Lion Head Mesa [sc] [M] Diamonds Under my Eyes

Well, if you start talking too much, I know a way to get you to stop, the pale man murmured with a devilish smile. He turned, gathering a small selection of the offerings, each motion designed to captivate.

His tail wrapped around Izaiah's as he led him away from the table, swinging gently. You know, it's been a while since I've had anyone for dinner. Machiavelli continued, his smile widening as his shattered-glass gaze met hazel. I think this could be really nice.

As they walked, a pang of guilt tugged at Machiavelli's heart. The image of the jackdaw's bright, mischievous eyes and her infectious, squeaky laugh flashed through his mind, echoing as if she were right beside him. He glanced around nervously, ensuring she wasn't actually nearby. Would @Legend mind this? Would she be upset? The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the moment.

It's not too far from here, Machiavelli reassured softly as they slipped away from the crowd. The night air was cool, filled with the mingled scents of food and drink, and the hum of the celebration grew fainter with each step they took. The stars overhead twinkled like a thousand tiny lanterns, casting a gentle glow over the unending swaths of sand.

The path was unusual, winding, and long, with the piebald man pointing out the differently shaped boulders and the swathes of flora for the Sesh to inspect. He stopped occasionally to examine a delicate flower or run his paw over the smooth surface of a particularly interesting rock.

Finally, they reached a secluded spot where the dunes stretched endlessly, and the crowd was nothing more than a distant memory. We're here, Machiavelli grinned, sitting down before quickly jumping up again, his eyes scanning the ground. His dove-white paw crunched through the sand as he unearthed an unexpected object.

A bone, he exclaimed, holding it up to the moonlight. Hmm, I wonder what it's from. Maybe a rabbit? He squinted at it thoughtfully, Or perhaps a coyote. With a playful toss, he let the bone drop back into the sands with a puff.

Say, that gives me an idea for a game we could play, Machiavelli declared, dropping into a playful bow, his tail wagging in the air. You run, and I'll hunt you, he proposed, his splotched lips pulling back into a devilish grin, teeth flashing in the silver light. Are you ready? I'll give you a head start.

Go.