Two Eyes Cenote stars, aligning

somehow, she had not accounted for that. for this. the Sphinx was fire that warmed, consumed—but Senmut was something else entirely. was his element air, the way the breath was stolen from her? 
no. he was water. how many times had he revealed to her her own reflection in his calm waters? how many times had he healed the hurts of her spirit? how many times had he manipulated his own current, to keep her afloat?
she became aware that she, though, was fire—burning still, burning even without the Sphinx. this flame, always within her, that Rashepses first brought to life—
water that surrounded her then, muffled her hearing, that both dulled and heightened her senses. was it her fire in his gaze? or his own? 
in love and in lust both Toula was naive. she was still, watching him with searching eyes, echoing, only me?