Lion Head Mesa and not just the muse

Hope you don’t mind! Aqui is plotting in his own way so I’d figure he’d have some questions!

The call rang high through the Mesa.

The Jodai was gone. The blood would spill in his wake. A debt, yet to be collected.

Aquillius hadn’t been sleeping since he had seen the witch. Monotony overtook his days as he worked himself to the bone, regaining muscle as he did. At night, his dreams drove him awake like a cacophony of trumpets, leaving him drawn and wane in his pelt nest, staring at the wall for hours without knowing if sleep would spare him or torment him more.

He imagined the knife. The blood upon the floor. His unconscious mind tortured him with visuals of it, of his teeth shearing through fur and muscle and sinew so akin to his own. Ripping to the bone with no mercy, only rage. He saw into dandelion eyes, going glassy with bloodloss, going cold with betrayal, looking at the treacherous mirror image of a son his father had produced. 

Oh Brutus! the choir in his head wailed, tearing out hair and strips of fabric Brutus what have you done!

So, he did not sleep.

The call that rang through the mesa woke him from a daze, but that was not sleep. He blinked, almost owlishly. Was this an opportunity?

brutus Brutus no Brutus! The choir howled. He ignored them, striking aimlessly at the rocks behind him with a back leg, then seeking out a servant to take him to @Makono .

He would linger by the door until announced and called in, then enter.

Pharoah. Measured, respectful, unsure, a thousand emotions and yet none at all. Aquillius didn’t even twitch.