Storm Watch Butte [M] First impressions are important, and I'm afraid I might mess this one up

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For days he had been racing against time, pushing himself through a dizzying array of landscapes. The scorching sun had relentlessly pursued him, casting its fiery light upon each new horizon, while its twin followed closely in tow. Six times had the cycle repeated, with each vista blending into the next - from the murky swamps to the sprawling woodlands, from the lush meadows to the arid plateaus. Yet, despite the unending trek, he had not stopped for even a second. His head start had given him some respite, but he knew they would be close behind.

He had collapsed on the seventh day. Dragging his weary body into a hole to sleep. His paw traced the contours of the rabbit pelt he was carrying, seeking out the comforting shapes of the objects concealed inside- his last hope should they find him again.

- -

Awakening from a light slumber, Machi stretched, stepping out into the dawn's cool embrace. The flat landscape around him seemed to go on for miles, the sand carried on the wind whispering forgotten tales of misery and isolation. There couldn't be a better place for one looking to disappear.

Return to sender.


The call of Muat-riya pulled the devils child in, beat in by waves of push and oceans of fight. She swam with the waters of scorched sand and burning Ra. Night fell cold. Day fell hot. Mindless, forward, dead in a winding brain with eyes that did not think twice.

Muat-Riya engraved itself.

She treaded the Stormwatch. Safe by home. Never far. Always there. She could make way for the cenote at any time. Yet she lingered and she kept her head low, lazily moving, and ears filled with sand until she heard a faint ring.

Her head drew frequently towards the palace. Never lost.

And soon she'd begin her path for it again with high ears and scavenger eyes. Periodic bubbles of whines danced out of her inked throat.

 

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Note: Power play, injury, etc. have already been discussed OOC

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A silhouette, draped in a cloak of twilight and the ebony plumes of a raven, hesitantly traversed the expanse of red-gold sands. She proved a stark contrast against the desert's palette—an arresting focal point that ensnared the rogue's all-seeing eye and drove him to melt into the sands like a serpent.

As Machiavelli lay prostrate, pondering the art of concealment, a revelation flickered in his stained-glass eyes. Why settle for mere evasion when this encounter could be elevated to a statement? Evading a lone mercenary was not enough; it demanded a response that echoed far beyond. An army, relentless and prepared, would be needed to drag him back screaming and bloodied.

With pantherine grace, Machi ascended the rocky terrain, his makeshift rabbit pelt bag stowed carefully in the hollow where he had rested. There, poised and patient, he awaited the impending approach of his prey, a hunter eager to mutilate.

The stranger emerged from the undulating waves of heat, the mirage-like shimmer distorting her form until the very last moment, and then, with a calculated grace born of desperation, Machiavelli revealed himself. He lept from his perch, a wraith of the desert—all golden light and gnashing teeth.

A heavy shoulder to the flank was all that was needed to send the woman tumbling to the ground. A heavy paw pressed to her temple, holding her still.

Well, well, well, my dear, you've proven yourself quite the cunning tracker, haven't you? A testament to your skills, you clever girl. The man purred, voice as smooth as silk as he leaned down to meet his captive's moonsilver eyes. I must say, it's quite a pity to see that talent go to waste. He traced a finger along her jawline, a wicked smile playing across his face. Oh dear, it seems I've gone and confused you, how silly of me. Let me explain, my darling, I have a very special plan for you, you see? If they crave a god, well, perhaps they'll find their deity in the transformation I orchestrate upon you. Let's find out, shall we?

I SCREECHES!?!

Naaghai sands, rolling below every burned pad. The haze of the lowland desert shaking the vision of Muat-Riya's path. For every sway of her hips, a forelimb overtook it. The bottom of her muzzle skimmed the floor in waves.

Until breath was ripped from her lungs, and sand was spiraling above her eyes. Her face was torn through the desert until air was soon heaved out above her. She cried and snapped, feigns and bluffs with flashed gums. She flailed with kicking legs and a growling, whining mouth that intertwined with snarls. Her eyes stayed winced, her tail tight to her stomach. "STOP! STOP!" Upset. Distressed. She did not understand. Open, open, her jaw opened until it nearly clicked, and until weight pressed against her skull to silence her.

Hazy, head warped through spaces of time. Foggy eyes, slow and disoriented as they opened, met the crystalline gaze of a psychopomp that spoke to her. And every word- oh, every word, she listened, and she took in, as if it left her the very next second and she heard nothing at all. Her bones crawled as ice trailed down her spine as her scalp burned against the sands. He spoke to her, how he confused her and how she was lost. Oh, and he was right. How lost. Very, very lost. Her mind was glossed over with the pretty mirages of Ra, and her eyes that were stuck in a daze. The finger, tracing along her jaw, and how she leaned her head into the end of his claw before it left her.

And by the end, when he told her of the grand masterpiece he planned to create, she was focused.

She was smiling.

Until the edges of her teeth showed.

Until she looked near lovestruck by the calming peace of thrill exploring her. She laughed, happy, giddy and joyful as she did not dare waver her eyes. "Yeah?" She paused, and then, her eyes lit up to match his, "you gonna show me?" This was fun. And now she liked this. She liked this. She knew nothing of what he spoke of. She didn't need to.

She liked this story. Liked crazy. Liked fun.

She fed it desperately.

Her head finally reeled back, giggles from her lips that were goading. Her entire body relaxed. All of that fight from earlier, gone. "To make me look all pretty? Like a god?" A head tilt, like she always did, then a wider smile that was filled with wonder. "Yeah?"

 

Machi: Bestie wtf
loool

---

She smiled. Grinned and begged like many before. Disgust, hot and forceful, surged through the man-god's veins.

Why don't you fight back, dear? He asked with a quirk of his head, the weight of his paw pressing heavier. Is the promise of riches not enough to entice you to resist? Would torture at my hand truly be the greater reward?

The scent emanating from the jackdaw woman's pelt reached the man, causing his nose to twitch involuntarily. A subtle snarl ghosted across his lip. She did not smell of the others. Instead, the aroma of desert winds and the wild essence of foreign wolves clung to her. She was no mercenary; this was a nobody, or worse—an unpredictable and possibly deranged harlot.

"Tor-ture?"

That was a new word.

At least, she acted like it was when suddenly threw her head back with the weight of his paw, a smile overtaking her mouth as she looked the devil square!

 "Yeah!"

"Tell me-- what that entail. Tell me 'bout it!"
Her eyes beamed. Her tail, stuck to her stomach in horrid firmness.

Staring into her eyes was like falling into quicksand, and it was Machiavelli who looked away first with an annoyed click of the tongue. The pressure lifted from the lady's skull as Machi stepped away from her, flopping dramatically into the sand. I'm sorry, my darling, there appears to have been a case of mistaken identity, he crooned, gaze searching for something else to attract it.

This was found in the shape of a small beetle struggling to cross one of the ridges formed in the sand. The wind would blow it over, only for the thing to right itself and begin again. His stare remained occupied by the misadventures of the little bug, rounded russet ears pointed toward the stranger, sure to catch any words that chanced to fall from her lips. It was only when the creature, defeated, flipped onto its back and stayed there, legs wriggling in the air, that Machi's gaze returned to the woman.

From her mouth, a drawn out, gentle, "Ahhhhh." 

And then, she was wildly laughing with her front legs jittering with each pulse of her chest. "HAHAHAHAHA!" Legend couldn't hold in her giggles or her joy in the matter, the absolute amusement she had found. "KE-KE! GYEHEHEHEHEH!-AHA! AHAHAHA!" Her voice was raspy as it was squeaky. Funny! He was funny! And insane! "And I thought I was crazy!"

"Watcha here for, crazy? You mass murderer? Killer? Oo-Spooky! NYAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!" Oh, to have fear or to have preservation. Legend thought she was funny.

A thin-lipped smile spread over the man's maw, meeting the stranger's eyes briefly before searching again for the pitiful bug.

It was a moment before he spoke, If I'm crazy, what does that make you? He asked, flicking the beetle upright with a clear-pink nail.

He turned his head back to the woman, a glint in his opalescent eyes, Were you heading home? I beg of you to allow me to escort you back. It's the least I can do after such an... awful misunderstanding.

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She was hysterical. Oh-oh- And then-- BWAHAHAHAHAHA! "Oh, I'm weird, but yah are CRAZY!" Legend had hobbled up onto her legs, head down in a wicked laughter from the most wild ride she'd been taken on all month! "Yah fuckin' weirdo! You here, why? Oh, I bring you back, all right!"

"You comin' with me. You meet all my friends!"

Khusobek will love you.

Thank you so much for the thread <33

That was easier than he could have hoped.
Machi arched an eyebrow, a sardonic grin playing across his features. I must express my gratitude for this unexpected and undoubtedly unmerited display of trust. Embracing the company of a complete stranger, particularly one who made a rather audacious attempt on your life, back to your home is truly a fascinating choice. I am genuinely intrigued by the intricacies of your decision-making, my dear, he quipped, the amusement evident in his tone. But then again, one can hardly anticipate conventional reasoning from someone who exhibits a peculiar enthusiasm for the prospect of torture, now can they?

Well, if you've exhausted your reserve of vibrant epithets, shall we be off? He asked, standing and pulling himself into a comfortable stretch.

Legend was soon at a disciplined sit, her tail curled neatly over her paws in a gentle, gentle tap. A smile on her mouth, her chin tilted down just far enough into her neck for her fur to cover her chin, she was locked onto the stranger. Staring, quiet, listening and attentive. A light in her imp eyes, dimming as dark as one let it be. For fun.

When she broke the silence, it was dignified. Regal mazoi of Akashingo.
"Of course."

"Come. She will show him."