Golden Glade mustgrave

wise man, for atoztli's eyes lay lingering on the blood stirring just beneath his temple --

she pulls back with a pleased smile, longing after the loss of warmth their close bodies afforded.

a reckoning of promise in his dangerlit gaze. intrigue wraps its sharp grip around the priestess, who felt her blood elevated to a heightened thrum under the burn of his cool gaze.

then i wait to see you prove yourself worthy.

picking up the severed tail, atoztli leaves the fox there in the ruined earth. a gift -- or a totem, perhaps -- of what promise lingers between them.