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.

Gratefully, Stark makes no further inquest. She wears the circumstances of her birth and desires no further reminder of those consequences if she can help it. Her tail gives a gentle wave as the mazoi joins her in the blue shade of the foothills, ears cupped to focus on the request that molds him suddenly into a bundle of nerves.

“Such an act will mean being reborn into the service of our Gods. Are you certain this is what you desire, Stark?” Eset questions, yet eyes the implacable strength in his face with stunned admiration.

It is commonplace for their people to rename themselves for a particular diety, or with care to reflect their achievements. But all names carry deeply personal and familial connections- Stark would be voluntarily abdicating one part of himself to be remade in Amun’s light.

it was more than just a name: it would be a rebirth. there is something a little bit daunting about the idea, forcing him to not answer with unbridled eagerness but to sit in the contemplation of it for a few moments longer. he would not be stark. he would not be the ironspine. he would not be son of nanoq and marvel. he would become something more.

son of the many gods, or perhaps whichever god chose to bestow him favor. whichever he felt close to.

he had come here to strike out of the shadows of his siblings, of his father. of the family legacy he carried as atlas shouldered the skies.

yes, stark breathes, conviction strong in his voice, gaze moving to meet her's. i am sure.

It is an affirmation confident enough to stir the bronze hair on her nape and she returns his reply with a steady dip of nose and a thrill filling her cheeks. The gods had smiled upon Stark since his foot stepped first onto the land of Muat-riya, and she knew he would be received with all the same openness he brought to them.

The honor of conducting the naming ceremony herself would be another world of importance for the hebsut. It was a ritual better led by Nazli or Senmut had the hems not been occupied with their baby daughter, and she would act as a vessel in their absence.

“Tonight, you will be renamed. I will bear witness for you before all the gods of Egypt. Meet me at the summit of the mountain just after dusk.”

Eset gathers her parcels. There was much to prepare, and the gods to consult.

a soft shiver slithers down his spine.

sometimes there are moments when a choice feels life altering, like the universe was sighing with relief that the correct choice was made.

in that moment, stark feels that significance as if it were a tangible, palpable thing.

tonight he would shed the names of those who had come before him, recycle and reused and take on one that was wholly his own.

he parts ways with eset offering her a soft thank you, unsure of how to prepare for it, himself.