Two Eyes Cenote the night does not belong to god

the desertine, decided apollyon, was pretty in a way that he could not parse. her coat held a huge he had seen in no other of their kind, and when she spoke, there was such an ancient cast to her demeanour that she might as well have been a god-statue carved and come alive.

apollyon glanced up at the pinpricks of light which dazzled high above them in a dome which fit the desert.

"which is your favorite?" the demon asked, voice throaty with the effort of restraint even as her bouquet rose to madden him and torment the black eyes to blinking.