Two Eyes Cenote Ikaheka

EDITED c: <3 keeping vague!

“@Medusa.”

Three times she had lulled outside the hemet’s bedchamber, twice thinking better of disturbing her. But as the hebsut lapped the palace for a third time, she stopped short outside the room.

Here was a woman with some knowledge or another of poison. Here was a woman who had not yet been absolved of the heinous murder of a young boy.

Was she not a more worthy test subject than the sesh herself?

Her heart pounds. She thinks again of turning away. Instead she stays put, chin wenched high.

Muat Riya was in a tizzy. There was a new occupant of their cells, and Medusa lurked to try and listen. And pray for his soul. But she wasn’t able to get much information—she was no longer trusted. Fuckers.

Bored out of her ever loving mind, Medusa thought to go to Akashingo and relationship build with the King Consort and Pharaoh. She wanted some sort of job, and here… here, it all had kind of gone to shit too quickly. A puppy murderer was more liked than her, but Medusa still never delivered Qiao’s name to any. Maybe the woman had cursed her, who knew? 

Fuck. It was definitely working if so. Nothing else shitty seemed to be happening… unless…

Her mind fell to the prisoner. And it was then Eset said her name—Medusa blinked four times in shock, flinching in shock. Shit. I didn’t even hear you, and she rose to a stand. Medusa waffled for a moment, not knowing what to do next—she had a penchant for pissing people off. And she definitely didn’t want to do that, not now.

…how can I help you? she probably couldn’t, she realized, given she couldn’t even help her damn self.

She enters brusquely, eyes tracking around the room before landing pointedly upon Medusa.

Medusa. They were not so different– in age, in… breed. Still, the very sight of her summons revulsion.

“Look– I have no time to sugarcoat things, hemet Medusa,” she begins, a leap of flame meeting the still blue water of the pale woman's eyes. “Someone has been leaving a substance veiled as a gift on our borders. It would not be so great a worry, except that the doctor cannot determine exactly what is in it. To find out, she wants to ingest it– which I abhor the very idea of. Muat-riya cannot be without the good health of our sole physician.” Eset’s eyes are steady.

“Thus, I am in search of a volunteer, someone who will agree to sample the substance and report its effects.” She ignores how discourteous the inquiry is. No matter her personal feelings, she would never seek to belittle the important work of the hemet. Only– by her estimation, all others within Muat-riya were soldered to their positions here; mothers, fathers, guardians, children. She could not have known the very woman she spoke to now had birthed a litter only days prior, and was still healing from her procedures.

Among the lot of Muat-riya, Eset could only identify two suitable examinees. Medusa was one of them.

Medusa was interested immediately. Unable to read the room, she couldn’t see the extent of Esets feelings toward her… but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to recognize there was some dislike there. Medusa would feel more concerned if there was no undercurrent of that tension. She’d know then that no one here really held any regard for the safety of their Pharaoh. Someone had to be under the fire—how to prove, though, that it shouldn’t be her? 

Eset was kind enough to provide a way, albeit a risky one. Still, Medusa had eaten her fair share of unsavory shit to figure out what it would do. And some was learned under the tutelage of the priests and priestesses of that faraway place, for ritual. 

Give it here then, Medusa said with a tilt of her head, thin grin widening. Shit, maybe a side effect would be to dry up her fuckin teats for good. Not that she needed to worry about that this very second, having utilized the herbs Tavina had given her.

Relief, legible in the air and in the subsiding roll of the hebsut’s shoulders. Her eyes cannot help but hold curiously and long upon the young woman's stoicism. It is the fellahin who are subject to experimentation as a final line of defense between Pharaoh and her offenders. The coy had truthfully anticipated a lash-back, not this quick acquiescence.

But Eset made no move to question it now.

“I will come to you tonight,” she whispers to the hemet with a softening nod and falls away into shadow.

…

It was beneath the quiet fall of night that she returned, girded in satchels of water, herbs and small bundles of assorted other accoutrement. Swiftly she set to work, softening the hemet’s stone flooring with prey-pelts and organizing stacks of flora and medicinal herbs to temper possible side effects. Heaping amounts of fresh water was provided, as were sticks to gnaw in the advent of pain. They did not know what to expect, so she prepared for a bit of everything.

Medusa is instructed to sit and take in plenty of fresh water, to alleviate herself before-hand. They must remain quiet. Eset was anticipating impugnation from the doctor, but not until after the effects were documented.

The potent substance sat untouched in it’s wrappings beneath the hebsut’s paw. There was a long moment of hesitation where guilt settled like a knot in the core of her belly. Even if she cast doubt on the pale woman's character, this was not a risk she should have asked of any other but herself. Eset's worried eyes reach across the room to the hemet, desperate now to glean the truths in her mind and volleying a tight reluctance to go through with it all.

“I have asked, but I will not force this upon you, Medusa. There are so many risks,” her voice falls, glancing sidelong at the preparations, then slowly up once more. 

“Are you certain you will do this?”

Hours passed. She thought of things she shouldn’t. Faces she shouldn’t. Little, tiny, small faces. Ones that should be inconsequential. They were inconsequential. 

Thank Gods Eset came when she did. And by the time she laid out whatever it was they would be trying, Medusa reached for it and quickly scarfed down her share. 

Well, I’ve never tasted anything like it, she says with a huff of laughter. Too late to back out now. I do this in service of our kingdom. If I die tonight, it is for Pharaoh, her tail was still, please just ensure my father lives comfortably. Medusa wanted to be the success of their family, but now she was the failure.

Feeling warm and fuzzy though, she flopped on her side and smiled. Feeling pretty nice, though. Death doesn’t feel imminent, she should be relieved, and sound relieved, but Medusa found her voice was a little flat.

She should feel relief that the choice was made for her. But no such emotion comes. Only a moment of unreality.

“Thank you,” she whispers, the concern cloaked by layers of obsidian as Medusa falls back against the stone.

Her calm is chilling. Is it for implicit loyalty she conjures strength? Or something else? Eset wraps her tail over her paws, silent. If the hemet died tonight, no one would remember her glory, or her honesty. All her gold was covered in ash. She would pass branded in eternity as a suspected murderer. The hemet herself seemed to place so little value upon her mortal arbitrations and Eset contemplated this despairingly. In some ways, she understood. In some ways, she felt it, too.

The effects came quickly. Invincibility. Ecstasy.

The coy looks on, her face offering nothing. “Did you do it?”

Did she do it? 

She blinked. Then it registered. I have done plenty of shitty things, all in the name of self preservation, was this thing truth serum? Or were these words she’s always, always wanted to admit to someone? Anyone who would listen? but not that. Kids are… they’re off limits, her face soured. Fuck no would she ever kill a kid.

That was likely because she had them. It might have been a line previously she would have crossed. Now, it was unthinkable. 

When the first Pharaoh died, shit was chaotic. Almost like a “whodunnit”. Did anyone do it? Or was it natural? He was not very old, she let out a long, thoughtful “hmmm” at that. I feel like I saw some shit. Heard some shit. But it was so long ago, I can’t remember fucking half of it. Gods, she choked out a laugh, breathing easier when she cleared out a wad of saliva in her throat. Blechhh. But I know whose side I always want to remain on the good one of, that’s for-fucking-sure. Still, I was young and scared. When opportunity struck to go become a priestess and maybe be indisposable… in disposable????? UNdesposable??? Whateverthefuck… I left. Figured it’d keep me safer in the long run. Cause I love it here, 

She looked to Eset. Was she listening? I wouldn’t jeopardize that. I worked too hard, and she wasn’t one who particularly enjoyed doing that. Ever.

Words are painted like a window into the past. The slightest crease appears between the coy’s eyes.

“Why are you telling me this?” She stands, brows lifted and regards the hemet, utterly still, save the lash of tail that seemed to convey all the secrets of torment.

“Look, Medusa, I am not exactly a conservator of morality. I don’t give a damn what is in your past. I care what’s happening now. A boy was ripped apart. Slaughtered. He was tossed into the cenote like he was– like he was nothing.” Her limbs ached from so long seated on cool stone. Her chest trills with anxiety and hope, together, as she turns once more for the pale woman.

A boy was ripped apart, and Medusa cared that she worked too hard to spoil such an image. Eset felt sick.

“If kids are off limits, prove it. You were there on the scene. Tell me what you saw.”

Well, damn. She thought the context had been important to understand the “why”, but apparently not. It should be a relief that Eset could give a rats ass about the shitty way that she was, that that didn’t matter. But what weighed on her instead was the question.

I dunno what I saw, she said in a haze. She couldn’t reveal Qiao without risking herself more—Qiao would come for her life. The same way she went for that poor kids. I got there too late. Too late to stop it… too late to help, she rubbed her temples. It might come to me, but right now… it’s all a fucked up blur,

And wasn’t what she was doing enough? Why couldn’t it be? Fuck, she’d probably be letting Eset down with this one… and she didn’t want to do that either. Gods… let me think, she muttered, closing her eyes tightly.

“Never mind it,” she desists with an irritated wave of paw, “just, continue to focus and report on what you feel.” Medusa was good at that, wasn’t she?

The hebsut settles again, making herself look the dignified part, even if the hemet’s mind was too far abstracted to care or notice such proprieties. That line had already been crossed the moment the coy beseeched such a sacrifice of the woman.

Her eyes flick ahead. Eset had long ago made a game of tabulating wolves. Each slipped neatly into their designated color. But she could not file Medusa into any one role. Perhaps that is in part what kept her flames leaping.

“Why agree to this? It is a great risk,” she poses, head raised back over her neck like a cobra sussing a threat.  It is clear Medusa had a meaningful relationship with her father. Eset could see how much they cared about each other. Why, then?

“Have you nothing to live for?”