Two Eyes Cenote In Heavy Mist, In Glitter Dust

His coughing subsided and Rooke's eyes welled before being blinked away. His paw rising to dry them as Machi prepped his death powder. Wear it? He was soon answered that it was simply done for looks before being swept into yet another preening session by the fellahin.

Rooke fought to stay still. An exasperation born from the weariness of this rather long evening instilled in him. He wanted to squirm like petulant toddler. A mere babe. He certainly felt like one in this strange place. Nothing made sense here. He still barely understood the man he considered a friend. But he wanted to. So he held still. He sat good and still and waited patiently for it to be over.

When Machi began to put the makeup powder away Rooke continued to be very good and not immediately wipe his paw along his face. He wanted to. His face felt funny after being stretched and decorated. A quirk to his lips at the mention of the accident with the powder.

I don't plan to. I didn't even mean to in the first place.

He stiffens at the gentle paw upon his head. The part of him that kept wary of these strange folk. The part that remained wary in how he looked at Machi. Rarely in the eyes, ready to hide. The same part begins to anchor him to the floor with a sinking feeling in his gut.

Right. It was time for dinner with the pharaoh.

With a brave face Rooke offered the fellahin a smile and began to steel himself for the greatest ordeal of his life.