Lion Head Mesa [sc] [M] Diamonds Under my Eyes

izaiah follows behind at a rather leisurely pace, content to watch the long tail bob and curve over the dove-white hips for a luxurious second before turning his gaze quickly away. the shmu ceremony? he gives a confused look before his lips straighten into a thin line.
it is how it is, he scoffs. a hint of defiance rises in his throat before he swallows it back down, biting the inside of his cheek. he wanted to scream from the hilltops that these were not his gods, and yet he could not bring himself to.
especially not as machi led him through the sea of dance and drink so confidently. izaiah shrinks down beside him, head disappearing into the ruff of his own neck as if he were trying to make himself invisible. he wished he was.
the warmth of the air is suffocating. his ears flatten to the sides of his skull, lip curling a few times as patrons nearly step on him. the brutal reminder that here, and everywhere else, he is invisible.
the dedicated fellahin pass around fresh meat and dry herbs, which the sesh can only assume is for seasoning, of some sort. it's meticulously butchered and pre-skinned; there are even some cuts served boneless. when he's handed a leaf-pouch with a portioned serving, he mindlessly grabs it with a mumbled thank you before returning to machi's side like a dog.