Sky Mesa Ladrón

Thread is for @Safiya, @Niño (if you'll join pls ily), and @Machiavelli. Set at the edge of the Mesa.

 

Niño, venir. 

Juárez instructed his greasy companion with a sharp tongue. 

Soto had not returned. This meant he had met trouble along his way. And while the jaguar did not have loyalty to anything, he was bound to his blood. They were more than brothers. The dark duo had been cut from the same wicked shadow. They danced with the same dark madness, the same evil wants. Soto could not be sacrificed. 

Juárez had traced his brother's scent to claimed territory. Then he had stalked the outskirts of it. And when he caught the trail of two wolves, he followed like a stalking jungle cat. Away from Muat-riya and to the edge of the mesa.

Safiya was built different. She had always known this. She was kind amd caring mostly, but she longed to be a Mazoi to show the world she was not to be messed with. But when you walked through life without fear. Well the world had a sick sense of humor. And sought to teach hard lessons. So you knew everything came at a cost.

And her cost was big. Beastie was with her. She counted this a win for the time being. But she also knew once they arrived he would leave her alone. She would face that as she faced everything else. With a lifted chin and fiery eyes.

take the pass down from this mesa; go directly though. luneshale is too far.

That was what Khusobek had ordered, and so it was done. Machi’s pale head moved in constant vigilance, his opal eyes scanning every shadow and rise as he led the girl through the pass. His gait was swift, nearing a canter. He didn’t like it here—trapped between walls of jagged rock, with the only means of escape being forward, and the wind funneled mercilessly into their faces.

If they could maintain this pace, they’d clear the pass and reach the flatlands within the hour. But as his gaze flicked toward the girl beside him, Machi doubted whether she could keep up for that long. He watched her movements, gauging her endurance, calculating the risk.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement. They were being followed.

Machi’s gaze snapped to the distant mouth of the pass, so close yet impossibly far. There was no chance they would reach it before their pursuers caught up—not if they quickened their pace. The bags in his mouth bounced against the feathered fur at his neck as he surged ahead, overtaking Safiya just long enough for her to catch the urgent signal: danger.

It was like Juárez to stay away for a couple days.
Not Soto.
Man couldn’t resist barking orders.
Niño wasn’t worried.

He was pissed. Seething.

He eyes the two, little ants on a field at this distance.
Killing causes fear, but decapitation sparks primal terror.

He says nothing but shadows jefe like a half-ton watchdog. Ready to commit open warfare soon as the order’s off his tongue.

The jaguar watched the traveling pair. The blood of his eyes was trained on the movements of the larger figure. The young one wouldn't pose a problem. Realizing this was enough to formulate a plan for their actions. If Soto's scent was trapped inside the claimed territory of Muat-riya, perhaps they would exchange one for another. And one so young... She would be a compelling trade, if Juárez could get her away from the grim-faced guard. 

El grande. Asegúrate de que no pueda correr. Muerde las piernas. Haz que regrese arrastrándose con su gente. 

Instruction was given to the obedient boy beside him.

Safiya heard the cluttering of paws and Machi was there in seconds. She dropped her packs and went on a full out run. 

Drop the packs Machi!

She ran outward to provide a rear guard and side. She was the Mazoi after all. And she'd do her best.

She didn't ask why he was running. Just followed him along. And kept an eye on their rear.

She had heard the call of one to the other in the end. Had heard the language that Soto spoke. And in doing so. This one did not sound lyrical or soft. 

And she knew suddenly, keenly, why they were here. And all she could wonder was how to save Beastie,  because as her father had said, these gifts were not free.

Assumptions made based on previous posts! Please let me know if I'm incorrect <3

There came a call, its cadence lilting, pretty even— a siren’s song spun in a foreign tongue, and laced with the promise of something worse than death. And with it, the hound was loosed, his paws a thunderous rumble, his teeth cracking as fiercely as lightning.

Time itself seemed to warp beneath the weight of each monstrous step, the space between heartbeats growing impossibly wide. Every thud of the hound's paw was a drumbeat, dragging the moments into a crawl. The rhythm of Machiavelli’s pulse marked the widening space between them, each thump a solitary beat against the fear building within his chest.

Thump.

He had always thought of relationships as transactions, little exchanges of convenience. Every compliment, each fleeting touch, the delicate bat of his lashes or the heated entanglement of bodies—each one an offering, made not for affection, but for protection. Each one had been a calculated move to ensure his survival, a barter for another breath in a world that had only ever been cruel. That was how it had started with Legend, and later with Senmut—a slow, methodical exchange that stretched on until he found himself holding something he never meant to touch.

Caring. A dangerous thing to possess.

He had cared for the Jackdaw. He had cared for the Red Prince. And in doing so, he had lost them both.

Thump.

Friendship, real friendship, had been as foreign to him as the concept of real love was before he had met Juno. But in the strange liminality of Muat-Riya, between Machiavelli the survivor and Machi the fellahin, something had shifted. He had stumbled upon it, unwittingly, in the form of a small girl—a child whom he had promised to deliver to Akashingo. An unusual bond had grown between them, one spun not from the threads of necessity, but from the simple magic of shared company. It was a curious thing to offer without expectation, to give without strings attached.

Thump.

Yet now, as the storm bore down upon them, resentment flared briefly, like the spark of a flame catching on dry kindling. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? To flee. To outrun the hound, slip into the shadows and leave her to her fate. He could vanish, untouched, unscathed— safe. The shattered-glass eyes flickered to Safiya, and he felt the weight of the decision settle heavily upon him, pressing like iron against his chest.

But there it was—the feeling he had long ignored, now rising to the surface, undeniable.

He could not. He cared. He cared for Safiya, and if he didn’t act now, he would lose her too.

The storm’s teeth snapped at his heels, and Machi spun with the precision of a blade. He gripped the bag tight in his jaws and swung it with all the force his body could muster, aiming to slam it into the hound’s skull, knowing this very well might be the last thing he ever did.

Thump.

They say before lightning strikes, your hair stands on end.

Was his fur rising now?

They run.
They turn.
They brace.
Niño surges.
There’s a blow upside the head. His vision’s blocked. He bucks; a bronto, wrenching the pack from his face and shredding it with head whips. The torn pieces drop from his teeth.

Niños’ eyes are stone cold.
Those eyes have seen his own jaws carving through a man’s neck.
Blood spattering.
Heads rolling.
Some men beg, cry, call out to God, or their mamas, or the names of their children. They pissed themselves, they vomited, they pleaded.

Your eyes would be stone, too.

This man was lucky.
This man should be praying to his new God, Juárez, who says break a leg instead of break a neck.
The hound tears forward, aiming to deadbolt his jaws on one hind leg.
No liberation until he hears the snap.
But he wouldn't be done.

One broken leg? That says 'bad accident'.
Two broken legs? That sends a message.

Niño was a good boy. He did as he was told. 

Their prey had been alerted and the two from Muat-riya were attempting to flee. The pass made that difficult for them. And before more than a breath had passed from his flared, dark nostrils, Niño was upon the male and was aiming his jagged fangs in precise and unyielding snaps. Ivory bullets in the barrel of a man who knew his purpose. 

The jaguar pursued the young one. Juárez too, a man who knew his purpose. The languid ripple of his muscle reflected the confidence of him. Rolling gold and black that took chase after the young girl. Bloodied eyes that glinted with amusement and thrill. 

The chase was always the best part. The scent of fear would bring him to the edge of absolute pleasure.

The male was after Machi. The mangy looking ugly one. They were atop them before she could blink. Safiya knew they could keep running. But they wouldn't make it. But maybe one of them could. 

She knew who they were after; she knew what they wanted. And much like Machi had told her once before. She would be something that could make her father heel. And it was a sickening, sickening realization. And for the first time in her young life she was absolutely revolted at the behavior of someone else. Not even her siblings had filled her with this much disgust and they were her siblings.

So Safiya chose to do something reckless with the fearlessness she carried. As Machi had said she always could. That someday it may happen. Well, today was the day. She turned with a snarl and aimed for the face of the bastard chasing her. She was smaller; she was quicker. She would dart around him and aim for the beast that went after her one friend in the world. Jury was still out on the man named, Soto.

Get away from him! Machi run to the palace. Tell them. They want me.

She used everything her father had taught her. She aimed, and she jumped. She would retreat and aim again. They had made a mistake when they thought she was nothing but a child. And that she would be afraid.

If it was fear, the big black ugly beast wanted. He wasn't getting it from her.

The bag’s impact against the hound’s dark skull reverberated through Machi’s bones, but the beast barely flinched. In a heartbeat, the hound tore the bag from his jaws and shredded it with ruthless efficiency, his fangs reducing the pelt to nothing in seconds, rations scattered over the sand.

No time to think. Safiya.

Machi whirled, scooping up a pawful of gritty sand and flinging it toward the beast’s gleaming golden eyes. It wasn’t much, but if it bought him a heartbeat of time, he’d take it. His pulse hammered in his ears as he lunged toward the small Mazoi, whatever paternal instincts existed inside him screaming to protect her.

Everything blurred into chaos. The world moved too fast, each second a blur of snapping teeth and pounding adrenaline. Machi’s head jerked toward the cream-colored stranger as Safiya’s voice cut through the fray, her command ringing sharp and desperate. She urged him to run. To make it to the palace for help.

He barely had a chance to process her words before the world tilted violently. Pain exploded up his leg as the hound’s jaws clamped down with a sickening crunch. Machi screamed, the sound torn from his throat as white-hot agony flared through him. Without thinking, he snapped back, teeth aiming for the storm-beast—any part of him he could reach, desperation guiding his strikes.

His eyes searched for Safiya, pleading. They were outmatched, and he knew he wouldn't make it. But she could— she was small enough to make it into crevices the brutes couldn't reach.
Please.

A final desperate snap for the jaguar's tail, if only so that she might have a second's head start.

The onslaught’s dirty– claws, blood, flung grit and gnashing teeth.
The hound kept on him.
Man squirms like a crappy suspended in a net. Thrashing.
Scales poking.
Niño’s head whips faster.

Maybe he can free him of this leg.
Maybe he can scare the piss outta him.

Nino didn’t need to fight for pride, for gang colors, for territory or drug turf.
He fights for fun.

“Do something you love for a living and you’ll never work a day in your life.”

When his jaws open up it’s only to lunge at the man again, this time as he’s nabbing for Jefe’s tail. The boy aims to clamp down on a front paw and begin dragging if successful.