Lion Head Mesa Ogre Daughters

racharra's strokes are delicate and tender, her hands too used to a much larger canvas. still, taliba made a wonderful canvas; racharra couldn't help but smile at the girl's strain to remain still. she's a lot more patient than the nebet remembered herself being.

first, blue would illuminate against the reds of her face, bringing attention to the golds of her eyes. she steadied her arm, careful to never betray the girl's trust and push too hard. please keep still.. you are very doing well. she whispers breathlessly, sweat beginning to cling to her brows. when she'd pressed enough of the pigment to paint even the creases of her lid, racharra moved to the next step.

she reached for the black kohl, analyzing taliba's eyes. something traditional would do just fine.
we are almost finished, just give me a moment. she assured the girl as racharra prepared the dark pigment for use. the girl's auburn fur was still light enough to allow for the black of the eyeliner to stand out alongside the bright blue it laid against. but it was the ankh that gave racharra struggle — her arms sore as they strained for perfect precision. even if the girl was going to smear it off later, why did she deserve anything less than racharra's best?

and her best she gave. you may look now. she ushers taliba to a pool, unable to stop the wag of her tail as the nebet unknowingly sat eager for a response. well, little one?