Two Eyes Cenote sixty-first [ap]

taking some liberties!

sweet was the desert air.

and yet it could not quell his stomach, nor the sickness of his heart. nor its great emptiness. senmut could scarcely wait for the moment where he would be back in the familiar red rooms.

he could hear the spill of singing, of light, of laughter and animated conversation, and turned to go back when he caught sight of @Nazli too, in the sands.

red ears splayed in unsurety, but ok slightly unsteady gait did senmut approach, and lifted his gaze to the sky. "are you pleased with our success tonight, nazli?"

she wore what he had once made, and he felt afire to see it, guilted, elated, surprised.

the storm that had fallen upon them during the coronation appeared to have cleared away. as nazli stepped out, her head was down; but she raised it up to the sky to see the stars, and breathe, and found comfort by focusing there instead of upon the celebration.

senmut's voice brought her back to earth.

a moment to collect herself, to smile, and play her part.
yes, of course.
it was pleasant out here beneath the stars, not quite alone but in the company of someone she admired; but nazli couldn't help the feeling that her answer was a practiced one, an expected pleasantry, rather than anything deep or meaningful.

she caught his eye as he looked upon her, not realizing it was the necklace his eyes traced, and felt a blush.
you've done a wonderful job, erpa-ha.

it was indeed rote, and he had come to expect that this was how it would be between them: servant and holy man, even though nazli had joined tavina as sesh.

"it was eset's triumph," he demurred through a warm expression and even warmer face. "she has been a perfect example of hebsut."

perhaps it was the drink, perhaps it was all the unsaid desperate things that senmut had told himself to bury, but instead: "i had hoped you would keep it."

but his eyes were no longer on the amulet, instead finding the lilac planes of her face with a thousand emotions springing to life in his own. the offering of this charm had marked a horrendous time, and while senmut did not want to remind nazli of this, he could not feel as though he had managed to comfort her in some way. or perhaps not.

senmut had failed her.

a self-deprecating smile was reason to look away, to step back from the moment; "will you return to akashingo or will you stay in muat-riya?" he had failed her, to protect her, to ensure her safety. nazli needed no more from him unless it was the gift of distance. "i myself will be leaving in another night, before the celebration has ended."

his ease with speaking was something to be envied. perhaps she should have taken to the drink — but even thinking this made her stomach churn. nazli would always associate the medicinal smell of over-ripe fruit with one of the worst decisions she had ever made.

he named eset, and nazli presumed that was the name of the courtesan from the feasting table; she chose not to commit this to memory either (in the sense that trying not to think of something forces the opposite).

she touches her amulet when he speaks of it, and smiles, but her eyes far-away. nazli looked to senmut as he smiled, but it was not something they shared; he seemed disturbed in some way, and looked off to the far distance.

opening her mouth to speak — finally — and he was already speaking of his departure. oh. her mouth hung open a moment, then closed as a wave of unexpected emotion choked her. tension in her jaw; hidden thankfully by the night.

i'll go with you if you ask me, she wanted to say; needed to say, couldn't say. i came all this way for you! she wanted to rage. you asked and i came! she swallowed the words, forced herself to take a breath and to ease the tension inside of her body.

i plan to stay in muat-riya, to see to the temple.
a pleasure palace. hadn't he meant to save her from this?

"i am certain eset will be glad for your presence." formal; rote; what had she been about to say? why was the coolness between them suddenly expanded?

come with me, his tongue all but ached to say, but senmut did not. why would she? and how could he be sure she wished to come and did not only act elegantly on what she considered a —

an order.

and he could not stomach the idea that he could ever give her such a command.

the stars gleamed. senmut cleared his throat. "did you meet any of the guests? i am hearing that at least a few of them claim to have witnessed ghosts at the ceremony."

his eyes asked her to speak not this, but what she had held back. "pharaoh and her consort will not stay forever in muat-riya. perhaps — you will return when they do?" almost a plead.

this eset was to stay here? her heart sank momentarily —
guests, ghosts, what was the difference. they would be here for a time and then gone again. but not eset. why did that name taste so bitter?

i worried when i saw clouds. we are fortunate for the god's favor. weather talk. how far apart they were now! standing side by side, yet somehow worlds apart. was this her fault?

he was watching her. nazli wanted — so much, too much. she let herself soften to his eye; little nazli, so weak from her work, so tired at this hour.

perhaps—you will return when they do?
if that is pharaoh's wish. a bow of her head, her eyes closing.

take me home with you.

before the eyes of the prince, nazli seemed to wilt a bit, surely exhausted by all the empty talk that seemed to be their only connection as of late.

come sing with me again, nazli.

"long may pharaoh rule," he murmured, shutting his own until the clench at the corners of his eyes felt too severe. and then he was himself again, the rueful, dutiful, devoted hereditary prince to akashingo.

"it has already been a long night. may i escort you to your rooms? or will you stay and dance?" and here he did a soft little step, his eyes gentle, hoping to at least silken their discourse a little.

nazli was tired.
it went beyond the physical. she was tired of being tired; the feeling of being pulled around by the whims of others, of following orders. when would it be her turn?
she had given herself to one pharaoh physically, another emotionally, and now what could she give? her devotion had strained.
i would go anywhere for you.
senmut.

tavina would lose her mind to see me dancing, i think. a smile; she kept her eyes low. so sleep, yes... her eyes briefly looked to his face, and for that second she wasn't tired at all; warm and wanting, and then guarded.

enjoy your night, erpa-ha. a bow, as she left his side.

her naked gaze said more than senmut ever had with his failing words; his heart raced; his pulse quickened.

his skin prickled with something like anticipation! he shoved the electricity of it away and dipped his head.

"good night, nazli."

in time he would return to the palace, to his drinking, to his discussions of alliance, but for now the priest only gazed at the stars in guilty loss.