Lion Head Mesa glory & garbling

ofc! <3

sulking sobek was pulled from waking dreams by that sound. ears and nostrils drew tight and his body became the tensed sword already wielded in pharaoh's service. but senses explained it was machiavelli who had followed.

descending some way down from the mesa's top, khusobek peered through the darkness. sweet the scent of berrywine, now arched in a horrid spill upon the floor. and machiavelli close.

he did not think; khusobek had the servant in the hard crook of his arm, lifting him easily upward. now the dark liquid stained them both from where it had clung to his paws. "did you lose your head, my sweet?" teased toula's captain even as he began to ensure that machiavelli had not been further injured in his fall.

for all his jest, khusobek was enraged, a boiling pot with a heavy lid. he had not heard the story of the dog's return; he saw only one enemy, and surely it was they who had done this to his companion, to the faithful of muat-riya.