Two Eyes Cenote [M] A call from Olympus, ringing off the hook

GASPS

A wicked night and dancing stars.

The song of cries beckoned her through the halls. Legend traveled frequently between Muat-riya and Akashingo. Night-owl. There hadn't been a time where she wasn't.

The desert was cooler at night. Cold.

She was used to this.

Now her cold cheek was against the bedfurs of Machiavelli's room, also, was chilled. She watched him sleep with half-closed lids and a relaxed lip. Contemplative. Watchful. Just close enough where she could see his throat tense, before it tried just enough to calm itself. Where his face looked just a little less regal. She watched him, just carefully. She watched him, just enough to wonder a bit.

There was no true intention here. Just simply to be.

She didn't have the energy anymore.

Pale cheeks. The bridge of his nose, tanned over. Each corner of his lashes, twitching against his dusted lids. His darkened ears, beginning to seep into the shadows of the room. Where they stopped and began, she often lost track of.

But she was there, the side of her muzzle resting down. However long Legend had been in here, it was long enough that she too had grown tired. Yet, even still, even then, her eyes stayed upon him.

Machiavelli burst awake. Frenzied. Irate. Scolding, perhaps. Yes, she'd known. If he bit, she would still lie in place. Legends head had not moved from its rested state, which had not been far. 

"You sleep strange."