Lion Head Mesa Anísychos

Arsenio beamed proudly at Sayf’s words. His tail wagged in a pleasant motion for a few moments. The man knew that it would be good to show that he was prideful, that he considered himself honored to be guarding such important members of Akashingo. It would do well if Sayf ever whispered words to the gold-furred ruler.

I do that for me, he feigned confusion. The man’s redstone head turned, first to the right and then back to the left. He searched the other figure questioningly, hoping that he could get the Fellahin to stop playing coy with his words. If I feel the stress, I will climb the mesa and sing a joyful song. You wish to hear?

Arsenio did not wait for an answer. He hummed roughly and allowed his eyelids to bob heavily. The sway of his muzzle moved with the sounds he made. The man’s expression was serene.