Two Eyes Cenote --the first act--

Zaahira's muzzle lowers to press the lightest of kisses to the raven-shaded crown of the Bast's forehead.
Goddess.
Playfulness sparks within her eyes as her gaze flicks from woman to woman. Do you not believe us, Eset? a laugh, buttery smooth; the most genuine sound to spark from her throat in what Zaahira could only assume to have been weeks. We will show you proof.
The room which holds the altar is vast, the walls speckled with aged rock and terracotta. She leans to stretch into a bow, threaded forelimbs out in front of her head, and from her lips comes the mutter of memorized hymn.