Don't Forget the White Sails

Rakia let a slow, languid smile unfold on her maw, a delicate nod of her head following suit. “I would think that you would already know your name precedes you," she replied, a soft layer of amusement filtering through her words. The glimmer in her eye danced, icy blues meeting Rhazien's gaze. It was a guess, really- but she had several context clues. She could all but smell the rotting carcasses that littered the Syndicate’s borders from here - the same odor that blended with this man’s musk. And as far as she was aware, Rhazien- while not old by any means, was certainly one of the oldest Saxe to assist in setting up the satellite. The Sultan’s brother. Or uncle, she supposed, in the new world at least. It wasn’t difficult to draw the connection between the dual colored emerald and amethyst marbling behind his calculating gaze. But a guess, no less. “My name is Rakia Perreau,” She began, offering her own introduction as she subtly shifted her weight, her delicate pink-tinted tail flicking behind her. Her tone was as smooth as the glossy snow under their paws, laced with unassuming confidence and a hint of intrigue. “And I’ve come to serve the new Sultan- to provide assistance where he may need it." She finished, looking for any sort of Rhazien’s own recognition as he may offer it to her.

"Rakia Perreau"