Mansa Nguna gazed at Achilles up and down with the evaluating attention of someone examining a product that had exceeded manufacturing specifications.
She nodded to herself, and then she came over to him with her lazy unhurried pace and began her examination with thoroughness.
She lifted his hands and turned them over, examining the archaic tattoos of undifferentiation that pulsed across his skin with rhythms responding to the amplified Pride now burning within him.
She turned his head with fingers that were clinical rather than gentle, examining his profile from multiple angles with gold eyes that tracked details too subtle for conventional perception. She opened his mouth and looked within with the same unhurried focus she applied to everything, checking something in the configuration of his existence that only someone of her expertise would know to look for.
