Qeya River i have no other god but myself

he is disruptive chaos in such a tiny little form.

the worst of the tempest is soothed by the soft feeling of sakhmet's tongue against him; cleaning him up from his mess — which had, incidentally, also affected malrok.

attauserk. he can kind of hear his name, though it is just a strange foreign jumble of sounds he does not yet understand.

he lets out a yawn, a small squeak leaving him as he nestles against sakhmet; threatening to pull him back into the bliss of slumber.