Two Eyes Cenote he will never sleep

only if you have time/want to! no obligation! <3

though it was a morning like any other: stark wakes twisted in his covers, a thought heavy on his mind, a press against his shoulders. a want that has slowly festered into an obsession. his thirst for knowledge kept him thirsty, hungry: like a plague, a curse. that just learning would not be enough.

he had to assimilate and convert himself entirely.

a new life. a new man.

he could not rid himself of the scars but he could become what he wanted to be, what he needed to be to feel that he was truly apart of this place. of their culture.

he seeks @Eset with these thoughts at the forefront of his mind.

Along the fringes of the cenote, summer weeds spring fast. She culls them from the earth and keeps on, working her way around foothills. Roots of lomatium and fernleaf are gathered into piles she would later take to the herb stores.

An image of Zaahira formed in her mind like, and the letter that stood yet without answer. She gazes down at the blooms in her paws, the shade a light gold. Suddenly the thought ebbs and it is Akashingo’s neb she hears approach from behind. She twists, skin rippling, and with great relief sees the familiar form of the mazoi.

“Stark,” Eset breathes, welcoming his gentle presence, grateful for a distraction. She pats the soil from her paws and moves out to meet him.

stark hesitates visibly as eset starts; briefly looking as if he were stricken, and while relief floods her expression as she realizes it is him, he feels something dreadful sour his stomach, rooting in his heart. what or who has made her feel so uncomfortable in her own home?

he is mazoi. he is a protector. eset, her name spoken on a choked noise, his own mission forgotten about for the time being. are you ok?

She had the grim notion that Lord Sutekh meant to make her his wife. It was a union any woman should have desired, and her own fear stung like a betrayal to her people. Eset did not think she could speak the words aloud to Stark, no matter how she distressed in secret.

“It is not always safe outside the cenote,” she explains away her alarm- though she knew it was no safer within the walled cenote itself.

Across the heat her gaze finds the still cool green of the mazoi’s eyes and feels an instantaneous comfort. “I am glad you are here. I am gathering these roots for Tavina’s stores. Would you join me?”

stark makes a small noise — more grunt than anything else — of understanding. a communication that he understands even if she gave nothing truly away. he does not pry. it is not in his nature, eagerly to blindly believe that if he was to know, if it was to be shared then he would be told without needing to pry.

of course, stark agrees, knowing full well that he would agree to just about anything she asked of him.

he takes a moment to inspect the roots she's already gathered, so he knows what he is looking for before moving nearer to assist.

i ... came to ask something of you, he admits, tone going higher for a moment with his nerves, a soft clear of his throat given. he was so sure of his desire to be assimilated as one of their people ... and yet her feared rejection all the same. i want to commit to Pharaoh wholly, to her culture and religion. i was wondering if you'd help me with a new name. a name of your people's language.

he would pick one himself but he does not know the language or the culture anywhere near well enough to do so with any sort of confidence.