Swiftcurrent Creek Indigo

Pharaoh. It’s a lightning’s strike back to reality. Her first reaction is shock followed by raw guilt, then both at once. In drawn out silence she stares at him, wanting to understand his ties to Akashingo and concurrently wishing he had none.

She’d not set out to lie, and still feels explicitly like she’d been caught in something; a good hebsut wouldn’t be a hundred miles away from her home, playing risky games with a much older, much wiser stranger. A good hebsut wouldn’t be wondering what it'd be like to kiss his neck.

The coywolf takes a dark red berry into her mouth and swallows.

“What do you know about the desert, Akavir?” She questions, her breath fogging lightly in the cool air. Her twin flames meet the impossible paleness of his eyes as they reflect a pinpoint of stars.

Eset is not sure what to think of the creek man, but it seems her subconscious had already decided. The alcohol tempted the blood in her veins, softening her shame. Legend’s warnings faraway, back in the realm of sun and gods. Here there was only the river- the river and Akavir. For all he knew, she was a fellahin whose path would never again cross his. She could still speculate on how he had earned his scars while pretending she had none. Her look lingers on his face; on the black velvet of his lips as they part to speak.