Two Eyes Cenote i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre

Machi’s expression held its usual composure, though for a brief moment, a flicker of amusement danced across his opalescent eyes. It was fleeting, however, as the man's question was quick to cull it. How would the dog's heart weigh against the feather of Ma’at? The query hung in the air, the gravity of it undeniable. It wasn’t a question that could be dismissed with a simple quip.

Ah, Machi’s voice, when he finally spoke, was soft, carrying a note of thoughtful melancholy, as though he were sifting through long-buried memories. The feather of Ma’at. He let the name linger on his tongue, like tasting something bitter yet familiar.

You know, I wondered the same thing myself once, the half-breed admitted. There was a man who came to us— he was older, and required help preparing a heart scarab. Machi explained, his gaze fixed upwards, tracing invisible patterns between the stars. I was just a child at the time, yet I couldn’t shake the certainty that Ammit would devour me whole if I ever stood before the scales. A faint, humorless chuckle escaped him, a wisp of sound lost to the night.

He tilted his fair head, eyes narrowing slightly as he pondered his next question. But then, it led me to wonder... if a Pharaoh, in all their glory, denies Ma’at and instead exalts Apophis, leading their subjects into chaos, whose heart would Ma’at judge? Theirs— or those who followed the one they trusted most dearly? His voice was quiet, taking on the casual tone of one proposing a philosophical, yet, there was an edge of sincerity.

Ah, of course, Machi replied smoothly, inclining his head respectfully, his voice dipped in honeyed tones but with no hint of insincerity. Forgive me for overstepping. I meant no offense. Despite his curiosity, the dog knew well enough when to retreat. He had tested the waters, and Meseba had made it clear where the boundaries lay.