Lion Head Mesa Mom come pick me up I'm scared

it seemed as though this girl was innocent, if not a little bit... ignorant. maybe ignorant was not the right word — primitive. perhaps not even from the area. but this was her land, and here she could not be glowered at as if she were an imbecile whose flowery language was meaningless.
silently she assesses the girl whose name was worm, listening to her little story as she studies her. she is on the frail end, most certainly underfed and desperately in need of a bath, but these were easy enough to fix. zaahira had been the same way when she had first arrived. in fact, worm reminded her rather strikingly of her former self in a lot of ways.
perhaps that was why she now considered throwing her a bone.
you stand on the soil of akashingo. we are a plentiful land with much to offer. beneath that mesa, she accompanies her words with a gesture of a toned forelimb, is anything and everything you could ever dream of, touched truly by the Gods.
one brow quirks; less interrogative and more inquisitive, a serpentine half-smirk coiling at the corner of her lip. but what can you offer akashingo, worm?