Two Eyes Cenote Come on, my Combat Chameleon

The waving of her tail continued throughout every word in foxy flips. She was awake now.

"There are many tasks to be done in muat-riya, he may find. That are beyond nail cracking, and voice breaking. Perhaps one will eventually fancy his interest. Surely, he is smart enough to find them?"

The skin upon his face was raked by the pads of his paws, and somehow upon release, he still was celestial. Opal eyes, but beyond that, crystalline fur. Untangled, and groomed. Messy only from a bedtime frizz, and the clawing from his own wrist. He spoke as a scribe who challenged the scripture of her own tongue. It was a sin to take her eyes off of him, so she did not for a moment as he drew himself awake from a robe of bedfurs to move closer. The serfs head tilted to follow the fellahin's body, watchful, because his very steps demanded that much.

Enough that the title mazoi felt strange from his lips when he spoke it, and she did not know then if it was an acknowledgement, or a degradation. Yet he was a fellahin, and so that just couldn't be.

The curve in her mouth turned to meet her tail being grabbed. He was gifted a subtle laugh from her vexatious throat. Swiftly, she slipped around his side to nip at the fur of his neck, missing it by the fringes. As if he had a collar on that she could drag him by, and to bring him away with her deeper into the growth of the palace. Slinking down low, with then closed eyes that opened again delicately.

"She must leave before it gets far too late once Hebsut is addressed. Before then," she would leave when the moon was centered in the sky. She needed to ensure that Eset did not need another message carried. That Khusobek could handle the borders. That the rocks were sparkly enough still to keep her entertained. But when it came to Machiavelli, a new task unveiled itself now. Taunting, as she stared to him.

"He can be then pampered thoroughly for the night, yes?"

Pulling her body away to ask him closer, she trotted forward with him, leading. "Come." Again, a nip to the fur upon his neck as she spoke, to frizz the silk of his coat a little more. "Machi." She hoped it angered him. They led to the center of the cenote, where the tunnels opened up a crater in the system. Algae swept over their heads as they walked through, and water rushed in front of their feet. Above them, the second floor of their system wrapping around the opening to look directly down. Sunlight bore through from the top of the desert.

A spirited hop to her steps, she jumped forward beyond the small bridge connecting the island to the walkways, and looked back to the eyes of Machiavelli with a breathless breath before she disappeared quickly into the overgrowth of flora. Come find me, and she would make it an easy game for him, because she wanted to be found by the devil.