Two Eyes Cenote i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

she beseeches of him things he cannot do. and as she pleas with him, meseba cannot help but wonder if she knows this. if that suspicion or knowledge is what causes her to ask such things of him. that spell had long since been spun, intentional but there; woven into the marrow of his bones.

that is what you believe eset, he counters in hushed but firm tones; the twitch of his lips soft, warm, understanding. you have already make me happy. you have accepted me into your culture, you have renamed me. you have given me purpose and showed me the way to Sopdet and Osiris.

i forsake nothing loving you. perhaps it was selfish to confess such things to her, seeing the way it appeared to cast her into an internal war with herself. his peace had not been meant to cause her such war. he dares to move closer, wishing desperately that his touch, if allowed, might help to give her peace.

i am your devoted mazoi. always.