Two Eyes Cenote electrum

Thistle is on the air before a sound enters the room, and at once Eset knows she has come.

A breath scrapes her throat, a gathering of arms over the face of heartbreak, and in the middle of the room the coy makes herself a forgotten argil rise in a temple of medicine. A gutted husk, exposed for her recklessness, her promiscuity, her failures. She could not bear it. She could not bear for Tavina to see it.

Her voice roughens with a sob. Crushed marigold longed to find her petals of iris, but Eset cannot bring her eyes to open.