Two Eyes Cenote Rattlesnake

He laughed and laughed! She had not even denied his accusations! Oh I will— make no mistake about that. Machiavelli's voice was a rasp, each word a dreadful swirl of fatigue and a simmering anger that refused to be quelled. He paced the cell, his movements tense and shaking, like a caged animal ready to strike.

I own my darkness— my flaws. You? You're a walking contradiction, pretending to be oh-so-secure while crumbling inside. Make no mistake as to why I'm here? Why am I here, Eset? You put me here! You betrayed me! You knew what I went through. I showed you. the beast hissed, I have never shown anyone before you! And where did that trust get me? You called me up in front of your friend to relive my darkest moments! To humiliate me! He stopped abruptly, facing the coywolf with eyes ablaze, the intensity of his gaze piercing through the gloom. You think I'm the problem?

WAKE UP, ESET! The words exploded from him, a thunderclap in the prison's near silence, reverberating off the stone walls.

His voice lowered, but the edge remained, cutting into every syllable. If it was not me then who would it have been? Who would have fled to your protection only to be betrayed? You think your enemies are outsiders like Herod and I? No.

He took a step closer to the port hole, staring down at the smaller woman with shining stained-glass eyes. When the blood of your people is on your paws, he snarled, the thorns protruding jaggedly from the flesh of his scabbed muzzle, it won’t be because of me. It’ll be because of your inability to face your own demons. You’re scared, Eset, and that fear will drive you to destroy everything you want so desperately to protect.

I'm easy enough to get rid of though, right? A raving killer you mercifully saved from the burning sands. That's fine, I'll be your villain. But what are you going to do when it's not me? Who's next, Eset?

Khusobek?

Legend?

What will you do when you can't throw away whoever's saying the things you don't want to hear? When you're forced to pull back the bedfurs and confront what's lurking in the corners of your soul? What then?

Take your food. I don't want it. Your little toy doesn't want to play your sick game any longer. He turned, walking until his wretched form was swallowed up by the cell's shadows.