Two Eyes Cenote A Winged Insect to Your Funeral Pyre

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The fellahin's opal gaze met Eset's with chilly solemnity, his jaw tensing as she drew near.

In silence, he extended a single delicate dove paw, inviting her further approach.

With frigid grace, he guided her touch, leading her hand to the umber blend of fur between his shoulders, then beneath it, where her fingertips would encounter the rugged terrain of his flesh, pocked and dented.

Moving with gentle precision, he directed her next to trace along his throat, brushing over constellations he had only ever drawn himself, an obsession that would never smooth no matter how much he scrubbed.

There, he paused, a soft huff escaping his lips, his voice a rumble beneath her touch,

Good.