Bramblepoint [M] The Night Comes Down like Heaven

He had listened quietly as Senmut spoke, his gaze trailing softly along the delicate ruby of the other's face. The flickering fireflies cast an ethereal glow on Senmut’s features, making him appear as if kissed by the twinkling stars.

Perform, Machi echoed softly, meeting the other's gaze with a brow furrowed in empathy. I, he paused, his opal eyes flicking to the filigree he traced absentmindedly, believe me, I know what that is like, darling. He returned his stare to those emerald depths, his tone firm yet tender, You will not be performing tonight, Machi asserted, nestling into the priest's hand. Understood? His tone was soothing, yet held an authority that brooked no argument.

Content to linger there for a moment, Machi was roused only by the mention of the jackdaw. The question of why had been weighing on the man's mind since he had been invited on this trip, and now it was the woman's words that rang through his head.
"'ahma-qu, 'ahmaq! Machi"

Stupid indeed. Opalescent gaze rose to the stars above as if their distant light might remove the paint from his foolish face. I see, he chuckled softly once his companion had finished talking. And if Senmut's smile was sweet and earnest, then Machiavelli's was the beautiful lie he had told hundreds before, and would hundreds more.

You were right to employ my services then, the fellahin purred. We can take things slow—figure out what you like and what you don't. How does that sound, love?