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+---- Thread: Two Eyes Cenote Dinner & Diatribes (/showthread.php?tid=62701)
Dinner & Diatribes - Machiavelli - September 09, 2024
The tranquility of night had settled over the palace, casting a serene stillness in the blue-lit corridors. A soft chorus of slumbering breaths filled the halls, blending with the faint whisper of a cool breeze filtering through the limestone. But Machiavelli remained awake. His paws moved soundlessly across the smooth stone floor as he slipped through the passageways, a shadow amidst shadows, until he arrived outside of the Mazoi's chamber.
With a slow, controlled breath, Machi tilted his head slightly, as if weighing the wisdom of disturbing the peace he was about to interrupt. Still, there were things that needed to be said, and for once, he felt the pressing urge to speak them.
Khusobek,he called softly, his voice a low murmur that barely disturbed the night air, yet it carried enough weight to reach the seasoned guard within.
May I have a moment of your time?
For a moment, only silence greeted him, and Machi steeled himself. He knew, perhaps better than anyone, that he was the last creature Khusobek would want to see at this hour—or any hour, for that matter. Yet there he stood, tail low, head dipped slightly in a show of reluctant humility. The uneasy, forced peace between them was fragile, but if there was any chance of mending what had been broken, this was where it had to start.
RE: Dinner & Diatribes - Khusobek - September 10, 2024
his children grew so fast that khusobek, already a father in a distant land, experienced for the first time a sense of paternal wistfulness. each day that they played and they worked was one he saw as miniscule, growing smaller and smaller still.
water, splashed overhead from a night's rain which trickled into a pool, its rivulet a fresh glisten in the moonglow. he let it course over the broadness of his shoulder; it sluiced along the defined musculature of his back, which did not tense at machiavelli's voice.
"enter."
now, what did this particular man want of him? stepping from the tiny stone cistern for which he had chosen this room, the man moved on pantherine feet to pivot, to watch as the servant made his entrance.
droplets of water fell in translucent beading to the room's floor. eset's hand was at work here, preserved; the masculine air prevailed. behind khusobek, his bed was unmade but it had lain in just those folds for so long that the hides had begun to stiffen. his nights were spent most often in the perfumed and inviting rooms of his wife. this was his first room, and it was here he came to bathe away the sand.
"why do you seek me?" he asked in quiet poise, eyes ready to see what machiavelli revealed with his own.
water, splashed overhead from a night's rain which trickled into a pool, its rivulet a fresh glisten in the moonglow. he let it course over the broadness of his shoulder; it sluiced along the defined musculature of his back, which did not tense at machiavelli's voice.
"enter."
now, what did this particular man want of him? stepping from the tiny stone cistern for which he had chosen this room, the man moved on pantherine feet to pivot, to watch as the servant made his entrance.
droplets of water fell in translucent beading to the room's floor. eset's hand was at work here, preserved; the masculine air prevailed. behind khusobek, his bed was unmade but it had lain in just those folds for so long that the hides had begun to stiffen. his nights were spent most often in the perfumed and inviting rooms of his wife. this was his first room, and it was here he came to bathe away the sand.
"why do you seek me?" he asked in quiet poise, eyes ready to see what machiavelli revealed with his own.
RE: Dinner & Diatribes - Machiavelli - September 10, 2024
I wish to offer my sincerest apologies for what occured that day in the prison,Machi began, his voice quieter than usual, yet holding a sincerity that could not be easily dismissed. He hesitated for a moment, opal eyes meeting Khusobek’s glacial blue, searching for any sign that he might continue.
If no immediate protest came, he would press on, his words measured.
It has lingered on my mind for quite some time, though I made no effort to apologize. I assumed, perhaps wrongly, that it would be... unwanted.The dog paused briefly, his gaze steady but cautious.
However, after speaking with Safiya, I was convinced to try.
He could not be certain Khusobek cared to hear the reasoning behind what had transpired, yet Machi continued anyway. His tone was measured, though the vulnerability beneath it was apparent.
It was my mistaken belief that I was to be handed over to Herod. I sought to provoke your anger, hoping you might... beat me. Herod only values that which is untouched— unblemished.The bitterness in his voice, though subtle, crept into his words, a wound reopened.
I... cannot say that I regret what I did, given what I believed at the time, as I was acting under the assumption that the Hebsut had sent you with the intention of... interrogation,he added delicately, leaving unsaid the darker implications that hung between them. There was a brief pause as the half-breed gathered his thoughts before he concluded, softer now,
I am truly sorry, however, that my schemes brought you unnecessary trouble.
I do not expect a response,the dog added after a moment.
However, I thank you for listening,he finished, bowing his head respectfully, and awaiting dismissal.
RE: Dinner & Diatribes - Khusobek - September 11, 2024
such a sign came in the form of nothing more than a barely perceptible tilt of the man's chin. he wanted to hear this; machiavelli had presented it well.
the fellahin went on, speaking of safiya. khusobek was careful to analyze the care with which that name was mentioned; if he saw something in it, for now it went unsaid. there was an aspect here, that his daughter had influenced the decision to send the man forth; it was appreciated in a softening of the icewater gaze.
guard remained, slowly lowered. they had shared the same confusion, machiavelli and himself, and it had hinged upon — it was where the blame belonged, in hands that were neither his nor those of the servant. but for his pride the crocodile was unable to place it there; he held it in his hand, in his heart.
machiavelli had come to apologize for khusobek's wrists pillared around his head, for the way he had twisted the thorns into the mouth speaking now; his stare pinched and he glanced away.
apology given; a smile's hint ghosted to life on khusobek's mouth. "i enjoyed what i did, as i too felt justified. i only regret it was you in my rope, machiavelli." honesty granted back, eyes holding those of the other.
his eyes traced now, to see if the lines remained; his shoulders stretched in a broadening breath. "do you care if herod values you, while we are being direct with one another?" the nature of the servant's relationship with this man tempted more than curiosity; he sought the blueprint of new power.
the fellahin went on, speaking of safiya. khusobek was careful to analyze the care with which that name was mentioned; if he saw something in it, for now it went unsaid. there was an aspect here, that his daughter had influenced the decision to send the man forth; it was appreciated in a softening of the icewater gaze.
guard remained, slowly lowered. they had shared the same confusion, machiavelli and himself, and it had hinged upon — it was where the blame belonged, in hands that were neither his nor those of the servant. but for his pride the crocodile was unable to place it there; he held it in his hand, in his heart.
machiavelli had come to apologize for khusobek's wrists pillared around his head, for the way he had twisted the thorns into the mouth speaking now; his stare pinched and he glanced away.
apology given; a smile's hint ghosted to life on khusobek's mouth. "i enjoyed what i did, as i too felt justified. i only regret it was you in my rope, machiavelli." honesty granted back, eyes holding those of the other.
his eyes traced now, to see if the lines remained; his shoulders stretched in a broadening breath. "do you care if herod values you, while we are being direct with one another?" the nature of the servant's relationship with this man tempted more than curiosity; he sought the blueprint of new power.
RE: Dinner & Diatribes - Machiavelli - September 12, 2024
Machi stood, waiting for the dismissal that didn’t come. Slowly, he raised his gaze once more, opalescent eyes meeting the Mazoi's steady gaze where the hint of a smile was found. He listened quietly, as the captain spoke in turn. A soft flush bloomed across the quartz-stone cheeks. Clearing his throat, he waved a paw in dismissal, his voice resolute.
I hold no grudge against you, Khusobek.His words were calm, offering peace.
If that is how you feel about the matter, then let it be buried.
There was a pause, a brief flicker of hesitation before Machi ventured into more dangerous waters. He could not leave without addressing a far graver accusation.
I hope it goes without saying that I did not attempt to murder Legend?His voice dipped, carrying a note of discomfort, the weight of that accusation too heavy to let linger.
It is true that I mistook her for a bounty hunter when we first crossed paths and... ambushed her. But she was not harmed.His tone quieted further,
We have since made amends.
If I had cared to be valued by him, I would have remained at his side.The dog's tone was near brusque, betraying the rawness of that particular scar. But, sensing the need to soften the defensive blow of his response, he quickly added, more curious than confrontational,
Why do you ask?