Lion Head Mesa thirty-seventh

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Wren found herself wanting to fight back upon Senmut's backhandedness, a snide curve to his lip as he drawls. She was no companion of Germanicus, nowhere near it; not a friend, not a travel buddy, nothing short of a goddamn tour guide. She was her father's daughter, the last of a garbage bloodline full of garbage politics and garbage treatment of others. This was not something to be proud of.
And yet, she straightens up in a sudden move of seriousness, bloodshot eyes boring right into the green-eyed fox of a man. That's right, her breath twinges with alcohol, her mind swirling and marbling; but with all her might, she forces herself to be clear. I come from a looooong ass line of men who once controlled an entire chain of mountains to the east at their peak. My father was a smart man, very smart. A damn good tactician. We're talkin' almost hundreds of men in militias, and they had to find wives for 'em somewhere, right? her eyes burn with challenge, the grand tale of her youth that may or may not have been... somewhat exaggerated. So, y'know, believe me when I say I've seen it before. Maybe not with your fancy grandiose gold-plated way of life, with, like, princesses and shit, but I've seen it. Everything is for the betterment of the clan, at the expense of the women, eh? A brief look to Akavir. That being said, if she was the wife of somebody important, she would either be here, or they'd have kept better tabs on her. Taltos, I don't know how much more we're gonna get outta this.
And with that, she slumps once more, swinging a foreleg around the small of Akavir's back, pride brazenly smeared across her hazy features. She is the one who leans up to his ear, now, with only one thing in mind; payback. Is that what you want, Akavir? To spank me? a whisper, only for his ears; warm, sultry. How 'bout I let'cha show these fuckers how to really treat a woman?