Luneshale Pass season of the witch

Ah, there she was. Seemingly oblivious to her status as a pawn upon the proverbial senet board; from what the mazoi knew of her colleague, either she cared not for politics both of lake and of mesa, or was very good at pretending she did not.
Either way, it mattered not. Not today. Hi, Dove, a lazy smile spins her features as she gestures to the assortment. come eat with me, yes? I want to talk with you.
Little stormy-eyed Legend, always so brave. Zaahira splits the meat into two portions; the larger slid in the direction of the little blackbird, along with a berry, should partaking interest her. She laps at one of them herself; slowly, swirling the earthy flavor of the skin on her tongue, before crushing it between molars and allowing it to burst. Never once do her eyes waver. I may have a job for you.