Two Eyes Cenote The deepest crevice of my heart

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Mangled.

And oh, how she had gotten close to the prisoner. There stood Khusobek, torn at the face and ripped at the ankle. Stained, battered even through the density of the crocodiles skin. Would not a moth be smarter than to plunge into hellfire? And then she remembered the vortex of the golden eyed man who spun in the shadows. Spinning, spinning, spinning, as her head draped over the enclosure to feed the beast within.

Red dripped in front of the imp's eyes. Deep, rich red in which she saw pooled on the ground to mirror her own body. The deep darks of her face, barren, exposed to the skin underneath. Ankle, mauled and shattered at the bone, disfigured. Neck, punctured and ripped of fur. And Khusobek would stand across the pool of blood as a twin figure in the same skin, in the same world.

Of course, there was no blood.
And she remained uninjured.

Khusobek..

"She sees." Kheti. The name almost fled the yaret. So much time had been spent in Akashingo as a quiet snake that Muat-riya had gone missing to the woman, but Legend did good to try and refresh the names of Khusobek's family. There was Eset's falling whose many rumors touched back to the woman, and Machiavelli who had been missing to the yaret, but now she could smell him but not see him at all. He avoided her. There was the prisoner man who had left gifts.

Now the mazoi who showed he had been attacked. Now Kheti's promotion.

Legend offered a wave of her tail once, twice, and a smooth blink. "There should be pride of Kheti." What was the word for expressing acknowledgement of ones successes? She did not know. Or perhaps, for some reason, could not manage to remember right now. Could not remember. Could not remember.

Her nose pointed at his face. All of him, really, but she had to pick somewhere. "Does he feel it?" Khusobek must have been touched by immortality, she felt. And he would always be immortal in her mind. Unburdened by pain. How?