Lion Head Mesa glory & garbling

He was alive in that forest, mind drifting about with the eddies of leaves carried in gales so strongly scented of pine it brought tears to his eyes. But Khusobek had been right—he no longer cared.

Machi was sitting up now, leaning forward across the half-eaten dishes with a rather sour expression. It is unfortunate then, Captain, that you have made peace with traits you do not possess. I do not surround myself with ugly creatures. He sniffed, offended, and the silken voice drew tight, You insult me when you speak poorly of yourself, the opal eyes glowed with an arrogant presumption only aristocracy could award. Tell me you will not do it again, at least where I might hear it.

The man sat back then, alabaster face pulling in an expression that could only be described as a pout. Vexation had cost him his appetite, even for the clams which he so favored. Yet, it seemed from the way he tipped his head over his drink, throat bobbing in long, greedy gulps, that his thirst remained unaffected.

The next question, however, perked him up, washing away all evidence of insult more effectively than a wave over pawsteps. His ears drew from where they had sat against his skull, and he turned back to Khusobek, eyes glittering in a way altogether unholy. There are things I did—during my time serving as Prophet—that out of all dwelling betwixt the wall of this iniquitous palace and beyond, only you would believe, dear Captian.

The "gods" decreed it, you see—righteous justice to be doled out upon whatever vulgar beast fouled my domain. Machiavelli explained, tongue wetting his parted lips. Some murders, slavers, and the like. Others? Whatever poor sod had been caught fooling about with one beyond their rank. He cackled, the sound dark and wholly wicked.

Yet, I tormented them all the same. A steadying breath fell from him, eyes fluttering shut in remembrance. Some of them cried. Some of them begged, or repented. Others still would only breathe in that ragged way you do when you refuse to show you've been broken. And I cherished every moment, every sound a symphony sweeter than any bard's song.

His eyes opened to meet ice-water once more, mouth pulling back into a grin. Their victims were not ones that I knew and cared for. The light glinted off of his cruel fangs.