pinky up

Yarra arrives quickly after the stranger, hips swaying rhythmically as she slinks over to Rhazien’s side. her uncle’s summons would not go ignored by the Saxe woman, her respect for the man too great to allow for it - and besides, she wants to be there for whatever deliciously wicked thing he’s concocted. “hello uncle,” she chirps, aiming to brush her shoulder against his in greeting. her gaze falls on the prey at his feet, and she sketches a single brow. “oh dear. poor thing.” she tuts with sardonic sympathy, poisonous eyes flitting to the woman she vaguely recognises from their reunion with Seph. “i don’t believe we’ve properly met,” she calls out, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Yarrabelle. and you are…?”