Two Eyes Cenote [m] Burrowing

It was not lost on him the way she barely looked at him—the curl of a grimace on her features. While there were likely a myriad of things probably running through her mind, he could not help but wonder if regret was at the forefront—regret for meeting him. Regret for their interlude…

His eyes caress over her as she settles—not touching him—refusing to. Only when she speaks does she look in his direction, but not to him—not truly.

She is a wall of fortitude—wilting, perhaps—but for how and why, he could not say… “Were you hurt, too, Eset?” His voice is quiet—she seeks to avoid him, but his eyes move to capture hers—wishing nothing more than to pull her back into his orbit. To settle her against him—to take away the hurts of not only the past days, but what he was starting to believe came from the very hallowed walls she spoke of.

“I don’t plan to remain, Eset,” he offered—the honesty of that statement lingering. He wouldn’t stay here—he couldn’t. Not only for those that needed him within the creek and valley, but he could not sing within a gilded cage. Not even for an assumed worthy ruler, like Toula. “You… You don’t have to either, if you don’t want. You can come… to the creek… Or anywhere, if that’s not what you want…”

He trailed off—his throat dry. He shifted his weight, ears falling back to his skull as she apologized, and he found himself frowning—that she ever felt the need to… “Why, Eset? You did nothing wrong.”