Two Eyes Cenote Dear gravity, you held me down in this starless city

Spotted. Damn. Ptolemy had wandered into something of a reunion, it seemed, and so he would make himself scarce. He cast a dark look to the girl in earthen tones, displeased to have been interrupted.

But he had the other girl's scent now. Her name, too. Minuet. He murmured it to himself as he turned to slink away, thinking now of the islands. There, perhaps. It was where the first druids had been made, and where he would bring those his mother had abandoned, when he found them; a fitting place, then, to achieve what the prophet never had.