Luneshale Pass Fingers Tearing Through the Ground

For @Legend other tags for ref! <3

Backdated to before this thread. Around the 8th/9th

A message had been left with @Safiya, intended for either the Hebsut, or her father.

Hello, darling,

There has been a rather unfortunate hiccup regarding one of the essential plants required for the you-know-what involving you-know-who.

Fortunately, I happen to know of a place where it grows abundantly—Luneshale.

By the rise of the sun, I fully expect you’ll find me safely nestled in my bedfurs. However, in the unlikely event that I am not, please panic and assume the worst.

Much love,
Machiavelli

---

Beneath a sky laden with twinkling stars, Machiavelli slunk through the winding foliage, pearl-pink nails click, click, clicking against the pale sandstone, each step a soft rhythm against the hum of night insects and fluttering bats. The diamond-sparkling earth shone beneath him, reflecting the moonlight in a dazzling array of shimmer.

The devil's opal eyes swept across the landscape, their pale brilliance catching and amplifying the light until they gleamed like twin beacons in the dark.

The last time he had ventured here, a chance encounter with the farm boy Rooke had brought a fleeting moment of amusement. Tonight, however, he mightn't be so lucky.

Clamped between his jaws, he carried a long, slender stick, ground at one end to a wicked point. The tip gleamed faintly in the moonlight, slick as though recently wet. The other end was wrapped tightly in layers of pelt, carefully bound to prevent his mouth from coming into direct contact with the wood.

He slithered through the great, twisting arms of the cacti, their spines glittering like needles, and wove between sprawling beds of agave, pausing now and then to take suitable cuttings. When at last he found the plant he had come for, his gaze narrowed in satisfaction. Yes, this one would suffice.

Placing the stick down within easy reach, he crouched low, inspecting the plant with a practiced eye. His deft paws worked with precision, measuring the perfect length to make his cuts for propagation. Hope stirred in his chest—perhaps this batch would thrive where the last had failed.

It wasn't even like home.
Wasn't even like places not like home.
Wasn't familiarly unfamiliar. Not familiar at all. It wasn't even an enjoyable place, and her eyes riddled disgust when walking across the many rocky bits of shale on stilts, each paw lifting to flick off the muck that was hard ground. Moonlight didn't even love her right now. Shrouded in darkness for many moments, and trying to follow the stupid scent of a lone fellahin.
Hating every moment of this place and still marching through.

He was more of a tolerated criminal residence than a slave, but Legend wouldn't nip those words into existence, not when there wasn't need and it wasn't convenient to say. Wasn't need now, but as the days had scorched through the woman's mind, the man's sly smiles and sugary-sweet remarks started to really get on her nerves.

Maybe it was just missing the man, though.
Angry, even, that it seemed there were times that Machiavelli's scent could seem so strong right as an arrival was made. Avoiding her! After that room had been empty for so long and picking up dust in the manner of undisturbed bedsides and a lack of scent. Nothing up to par for Machi's standards. Oh, but that was because Machi had left and upon return, wouldn't even tell her where he had gone. He didn't have to, but it seemed it wasn't even a thought. Of course it was Legend who was left out of it! Of course it was Legend who didn't get told! Of course it was Legend who was avoided like a walking plague! And for what? Being busy? Bored? A lack of sex?

And all that anger stayed stirring in the steam of the woman's mind, and when those pretty white hairs of the man's sunken head finally came into sight, everything felt like it deflated. Legend's ears did like flopping rabbits. Behind a tall cactus, squinting as if she couldn't see him right no matter how much distance could ever be closed.

Demon to devil now.

Voice scratching as it broke through the still air, as if she had not spoken in a very, very long time.

Confused and lost.

"Machi?"

The dog's muddied ears twitched, sensing the soft footfalls before his mind fully registered their approach. His jaws clenched around the stick, lips curling into a snarl as he spun to meet the intruder, kicking up a cloud of dust that billowed in the air around him. Opalescent eyes narrowed, struggling to pierce the swirling haze. The fur along his ruff bristled, every instinct on high alert—until he saw her.

Legend? His voice cracked, barely a whisper, as the stick slipped from his grasp and clattered against the earth.

Without thinking, he rushed forward. Relief and disbelief crashed through him in waves. She was here. And gods above all he wanted was to gather her in his arms, to feel her solid and real against him. His heart raced, and for a fleeting moment, he believed he could close the distance and never let go.

But he stopped.

He had been imprisoned for attacking her.
She had not come to see him once in those many long months while he rotted in that cell—she hadn't even sent word for him.
His room, destroyed upon his release.

His momentum faltered, paws stumbling as he took a hesitant step back. His ears drooped, mirroring the jackdaw's own as doubt wormed its way through him. Was he allowed to embrace her anymore? Was his presence wanted?




Did she hate him?

Venom poured out his mouth from a sizzling throat. A snarl that hit the air like a whip and cracked the ears.

A cloud of dark dust ran off into the wind behind his tall figure.

And next he ran for her and her entire body shut down. Cowering, neck twisting to not dare look for a moment, legs curling into a terrible collapse. Eyes, coming to a shut until the beating sound of running came to an eerie stop.

When she opened her eyes and he was not towering her figure with foaming teeth and blood red eyes, was it wrong to have wished for an embrace from someone?

To understand how that felt?

Even if maybe they did not know each other well at all.
Machiavelli did not know what she had done.

He backed away from her. Maybe second guessing, or maybe it was never the intention at all, and because she was breathing and not yet dead and decomposing, intention no longer mattered to the demon. Never did at all. Only answers now.

And suddenly those big doe eyes caught Machi's and became a child's gaze that had been buried away. Scrambling on legs that felt all too big for her now, and then leaning forward-- the raspiness of a shrill voice breaking through in wounded cracks, "What did I do?" And,

"Why did you leave me?"

And why did she speak towards more ears than his?

She flinched, and the dog's stomach felt as though it had plummeted into the seventh circle of hell.

If it weren’t for the dark whispers curling around his mind, Machi might have realized that he often flinched too—when others moved suddenly, too quickly, even those he trusted. Even those he loved. But now, that realization slipped away, drowned beneath a suffocating tide of guilt and fear. His world shrank to a single, unbearable thought: he had frightened her. Herod's echoing laugh bounced between his ears—smug, mocking.

The dog's opalescent eyes flicked nervously, betraying the flood of emotions he worked so hard to keep buried. In one sharp glance, they darted over her face, silently begging for a sign, any sign, that he hadn’t turned into the very thing he feared. Machiavelli glanced down at his paws, and for a moment, the silvery sheen of something monstrous flickered across his vision. But when he blinked, the illusion was gone, leaving only dirt-streaked fur in its place.

His heart pounded in his chest, heavy and frantic, but outwardly, he forced himself into a mask of calm. He had always been good at that, hadn't he?

Slowly, carefully, Machi took a step back, ears pressed flat against his head, retreating as if distance might somehow erase the fear he’d caused. He lowered himself onto his haunches, making himself small. Not threatening. Not dangerous. Harmless.
Perhaps a monster nonetheless.

I would never hurt you, do you know that?
Could she still believe it?

Legend, Her name escaped him in a whisper, and he cursed how frail his voice sounded. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get too close, that he wouldn’t let his heart twist itself into knots of confusion and hurt. And yet, here he was, voice shaking, emotions spilling out no matter how hard he fought to hold them back.

Legend... I was imprisoned. The confession tumbled from him, unplanned, the dam inside him crumbling faster than he could stop it. I was imprisoned for attacking you. And then— His words choked off, silenced by months of unanswered questions. Why hadn’t she come? Why hadn’t she said anything?

When I was finally freed... His breath hitched. His throat burned with the weight of it. I found my room destroyed. You... you had destroyed my room.

I didn't leave you, darling, he murmured, barely more than a breath. His chest tightened as he searched her face, his heart thudding violently, searching for a glimmer of understanding. I wouldn't abandon you like that.