Two Eyes Cenote we can't fall any further if we can't feel ordinairy love

@Khusobek @Qiao (I think) @Eset and anyone else who would be here, I imagine.

She was as light as feather—maybe he shouldn’t worry about that, and yet he did. The scent of blood still clung to the air, and while sunlight only now began to filter across the swell of desert, the air remained electrically silent with the tension.

He had to stop and adjust her form time to time—the stick of blood thick upon them—his heart hammering in his chest. A dark paw dangled closer to his face, and in this quiet moment, he curled his cheek to to—planting a kiss as tenderly upon it as he could without disturbing her, or his gait. “You are not alone, Eset,” he murmured quietly to her—though he did not know if she heard.

He slows when Muat-riya raises before them—and when it is time, he waits for Khusobek to announce them—uncertain if he should place her down here, or within the walls of her gilded cage.

please feel free to PP qiao to get things moving <3

at some point during their grim march, qiao had pulled aside and howled for @Stormchaser, so he could track her descent across the desert and bring @Riot and @Rowdy with him.  

it was one of life’s bizarre ironic twists that their destination happened to be the cenote. 

qiao was never far from eset thereafter; she followed akavir as his shadow, moving only to adjust the fallen healer where he could not. as he brushed eset’s paw in a tender gesture qiao was tracking the stars in the north. 

when they came to the cenote’s ancient margins, qiao stood straight and waited silently for direction.

skip khu

he did not wait, because they could not. he had shadowed them from the desert, wincing at the cuts in his own head. now he stepped to the front of their column, cold eyes moving over eset. he deeply worried. he would not show it.

he led them through the blue halls to the sesh's chambers, the crocodile explained, standing aside at the door as she was toted into the examination room. "the physician is away. all you need should be here," he rumbled to the small old woman.

he was useless here. there was no call to separate the stranger from eset. khusobek called that water be brought for them all and, after a moment's stare, muttered that the prince be informed.

he moved rote then, posted at the door unless the healer needed him.

sen will do what qiao says

"taltos."

when word came that eset had been found, the prince had not panicked. he had left nazli and aiesha, and gone at once to tavina's medical chambers.

there he found a man who was not quite a stranger, and a woman — the crone priestess qiao who had helped to embalm ramesses.

he had set down a tortoiseshell of water; now he moved to qiao's side. "direct me."

I hope this minor pp is ok @Qiao! please let me know otherwise!

When she comes to, she is staring at her paws in vacant penitence, utterly shut down. She hears a name she does not recognize. She hears a voice she does. Senmut. Humiliation.

Ceaseless tears press against the lidded gaze that never once leaves the floor. Akavir's scent is close, as is the shadow of the hemet, bent over her body in work. But Eset is brutally aware she cannot be fixed.

The emptiness of limp arms, wherein they would have lain. Eight fingers and toes, howling, soft mouth to her chest. The urge to blame herself glows hot. How could she let them die? How could she be so cruel.

Her body was a wasteland. Eset craved annihilation. Still, the hemet works.

Lead through the winding palace—vaguely, he recalls Akashingo and is reminded of it as well—the cloying scent and the vibrant walls. Polished floors.

He hated it just as much here as he did there… If not more, for Eset was listless upon him, and it had taken only a brief interlude with the others she called ‘home’ to realize that Toula indeed had vipers beneath her, as he had warned would happen.

Kingdoms, no matter their belief of royalty, affluence and culture… they were all the same in the end.

Shuffled into a room, Eset was laid down gently—his eyes fixated upon her as he tensed, waiting to be ushered out by angry guards.

They did not come, but a “Taltos,” did, and his eyes swept up to meet the red priest, brows furrowing. “Akavir,” he corrected the man, and left it at that for now—knowing he would need to explain later.

They worked on her—and he was not driven away yet—and the inkling of hope began to constrict within his chest that he might be here when she awaken—because surely, she would awaken.

there is a room, and it is not so different from the clinical room tavina had once dressed qiao’s skull in. she passed her gaze along the stone walls, waiting for the energy to settle. khusobek’s presence lingered, though he mentioned a physician was away. qiao hoped this physician did not mind a stranger rifling though her stores.

eset, at some point, had woken up. the would-be mother, her vessel hollow and energies reduced to a husk, will not lift her eyes from the floor.

once — so long ago to think of it turned her thoughts to ash — there had been a small coywolf wrapped in a garland of her own blood, holding the bodies of three perfectly still souls. the only audience the settling gloom around her. qiao quickly ushered the memory away. 

 relieved to see senmut, qiao tilted her ear to his single utterance. a quirk of her muzzle given as akavir responded.

she moved round the table, clicking her tongue to shoo away the men that hovered like black flies on meat. moss, fennel, goldenrod, and gaultheria. she called to no one in particular to retrieve, placing a paw upon eset’s haunch to draw her attention. you have lost much blood, dear. we will treat the external first — but you will need to rest. how is your pain?

tag for ref!

eset did not look up, and so senmut did not seek her eyes, did not press his gaze. instead, within the confines of that small room, he became an animate piece of furniture. his scribe-mind would recall each detail of this scene in perfection — but later.

moving away as the esteemed hemet took up her position beside eset, senmut remembered the flawed detainment, but that she had come to see makono gloried all the same.

to have her here again was — some measure of blessing and some measure of danger.

green moss. the feathery richness of fennel, and because qiao had not said, a small heap of dried fennelseed. sweetness encircled the working. sprigs of goldenrod, and for the last he had to search. 

these things were laid within qiao's reach, and if the hemet bid him fetch a dessicated variety, he brought it in quiet.

a servant replenished the water-shell at the door. senmut sent word to @Medusa, to begin her prayers against the pressing death spirits which sought to devour life essence.

In a touch she is made to direct her consciousness to the violence enacted upon her body. To focus is to fight, but the voice is inherently familiar and coaxes the barest bit of pragmatism. But she could not attach any word to this unthinkable pain. She’d awakened from the cold and it fell all around her life in a shawl.

“I feel like I’ve had a miscarriage.” Starkly, numbly, it was named, as if doing so could eradicate feeling. She breathes, frowning, for her mouth had acted on its own accord.

They’d been for her. She’d loved them too much. But she could not love without fury.

Dimly, her gaze lifts to look into the irises of the woman; garden green encased in glass. Faintly unaware of others in the room, she closes her eyes once more.

Feel free to skip over Akavir, since he's mostly just watching and waiting/useless. <3

The Pharaoh’s wolves worked—his gaze remained placed upon Eset with concern as he drew back against the wall—spine straight, the clench of his jaw forcing an ache in his teeth that remained only a minor distraction. His lip was still swollen from the sucker punch received earlier—a token of the insanity that seemed to plague the wolves of the desert.

He tried to unclench his jaw—his mind darkening as he recalled the shouting—the blood. The wailing of the dark woman before him and the way the ones who were supposed to care for her had failed in every aspect.

His jaw would clench again.

He remained until he was escorted away—aching to hold Eset, knowing that nothing he said or did could ever make this better for her.

shadows moved about the room as qiao bent to her work. she was concentrated, and as she worked the details of the red room faded away, the faces of akavir and senmut dissolved until it was just her and eset.

i feel like i've had a miscarriage. qiao's solemn eyes found the struggling face of eset in quiet confirmation. she noted senmut had collected fine specimens of the herbs she requested, and from the water brought by the servant she began to make a poultice.

while that settled, the priestess brought the moss to eset's thighs and flank, cleaning away the crimson stain that spoke of a mother's worst heartbreak. in the corner, akavir must surely feel her suffering.

eat this. qiao urged, bringing a compound of herbs to eset's delicate front paws. it would be a light analgesic; enough to soften her suffering. to the men, she gave a pointed look -- their presence might cause pain to eset given the delicate nature of her loss. qiao turned her body so that her shoulders blocked eset from seeing them. it is done now. look at me -- she motioned gently for eset to open her eyes. you must focus on your healing. it is all one can do.