Agis, the tribe’s leader, studied the tear-catcher for what seemed hours. In a small tired voice, “Nesyassa, I think it is time. I hoped not to see this happen in my life time.” A smile crawls across his face, “Almost made it, wouldn’t you say?” Agis laughs ironically, he knows that he is in the sunset years of his life, 30, or 32 long years. It must seem comical to such a person as Nesyassa, who’s blood runs thick with the true god’s, and one of the blessing (or curse?) is longevity.
Nesyassa’s sapphire scales slide and overlap smoothly as she turns her head toward Agis. “Would you like me to commence getting the camp in order?”
“Always to the point you are Nesyassa. I never have told you how much I… we, of the Yavapai tribe appreciate you, and what you have done for us.”
“You saved me Sachem, I owe you and this tribe my life.” As Nesyassa said this, a gleam, nay, a blue sparkle flickers in her eyes. She sees a weak human in front of her, the desire to cull is strong, her blood screaming to do it, but as usual, she fights this desire off, this… rage hiding only skin deep.