Two Eyes Cenote the night does not belong to god

senmut had stayed for a number of days, as he had promised. nazli grew less and less afraid to be seen in his company, being doted on, or hearing the fellahin speak of their meals shared together; none knew what went on between them in the evenings, in their secret place.

the visitors to the temple had already dispersed back to akashingo; but when his time was up, nazli did not want him to go. she knew she would miss his presence; their nights had by now blended together and she would think of them together, often. the burning in her body had lessened but not abated.

at least she could send missives, she thought; she had kissed him in full view of others, and seen him go, and stared after senmut's diminishing figure as he made his way — even climbing up to their secret place during the daylight hours, overlooking the temple and the lands beyond, to try and catch his silhouette — but he was gone, then.

nazli moaned softly, feeling such grief for the distance — and that same yearning that senmut had ignited in her. she did not want that to end, either.

there had been no reason to drift so far from the gathering, and yet apollyon moved as if he had been spurred by a bite from satan himself.

the land warmed as he hunted his way down into at last sandy soil, then a profusion of desert flowers; dunes spread before him and he knew this was a place he did not understand.

hot winds whipped the grains into his eyes; he retreated and ran madly until the high, arching walls of stone forbade him further.

and here he found the tendril of something compelling, and followed it almost breathlessly.

she watched, watched, watched, until she was alone and aching now in a familiar way, and would linger there above the temple to await the stars, and praise Nwt. it was She who brought the two of them together, finally.

when nazli saw a shape, she thought it was senmut returning to her. she was elated! she danced across the flat top toward the shape and only when they were much closer did it become clear, his was a silhouette she did not know.

the urge to turn and run flooded her. nazli didn't know if she wanted to be away, or closer. she was still burning for senmut; but who was this man?

against the desert stars did apollyon see her silhouetted, and he quickened his pace when her face did not turn away.

no alarm was sounded.

instead the figure dispersed into the blackness and then when he saw her once more she had come to him.

his lightless eyes were filled with a serpentine pleasure, even as wariness washed through the unknown creature. she was some amalgamation of fine mingled ancestry that mattered nothing to the demon beneath the lure of her scent.

"out for a walk?" apollyon crooned, though he made no move to close their distance.

the figure was like a ghost.

his voice was different - not accented in the familiar way, so, accented then. noticeable. his eyes were voids, glittering like oil, and like her own.

for prayers, she corrected. better to avoid speaking of senmut, she thinks. he is precious. does this man pray? he doesn't look like the type.

the bold feelings in her body prevent her from running. wreathed in warmth and senmut, protected beneath the gaze of Nwt, she fears nothing.

i am here most nights; cataloguing the stars.

the desertine, decided apollyon, was pretty in a way that he could not parse. her coat held a huge he had seen in no other of their kind, and when she spoke, there was such an ancient cast to her demeanour that she might as well have been a god-statue carved and come alive.

apollyon glanced up at the pinpricks of light which dazzled high above them in a dome which fit the desert.

"which is your favorite?" the demon asked, voice throaty with the effort of restraint even as her bouquet rose to madden him and torment the black eyes to blinking.

she simultaneously wanted to keep him in her sights, as a protective measure, and wanted to look to the stars and witness them when he asked his question. feeling powerful after her many nights with senmut, she chose to look up and to draw her attention fully away from the man.

there were many stars to choose from; there were always such a multitude that it could be overwhelming. nazli spied a few bright ones now visible, and smiled.

we are in the belly of nwt. each light is one of her children; like her, i can have no favorite. what others would call the milky way.

look there, that star is sothis watching over us. and her consort sah, which you can trace. what others might identify as a belt, nearer the horizon. these names had come to her with prayer and attention over the course of many nights, and sometimes by speaking with those of muat-riya, or hearing word from akashingo.

watching the stars and now thinking of the palace, her mind wanders happily to senmut; her body reacts with a small shiver she could easily blame upon the season. the wanting is still there, but her lover is not.

she spoke and apollyon meant to listen. and he did. a little. she certainly knew more about the stars than he could ever hope to know.

"her consort." he did know that word, a sweetened segue back into why he had come, why he stood listening about the stars while her scent wreathed around them.

apollyon turned his attentions back to the young holy woman. "and do you, like sothis, desire a consort?" he grinned, the black-oil sheen of his eyes dancing.

her love of the stars and of nwt had overwhelmed the moment. she had spoken too long on the constellations and bored him! it did not matter, she reasoned. he was a stranger. she should have called for a guard and sent him away, not tried to teach him; but she was glad for company in this moment, because that was what her body demanded of her.
nazli felt a little silly, overthinking all of this. he had asked! she had answered. and he had caught upon the word of consort with an offer that made her gasp inward, softly.
her cheeks warmed; so too did her belly.
i... have someone, she admitted.
her eyes returned to the direction of akashingo, pining for senmut, knowing he was not here now and feeling -- she wasn't sure. that desire, stronger now. the call of nwt, she thought. yes. yes it was only her goddess, watching.
nazli did not know what to do. she looked to the man and saw his dark eyes, his dark shape, and the way the starlight caught upon the nape of his neck. why did she stare? why didn't she run?
but he is not here now. and nwt called to her now for supplication.

"no. he isn't. just you and i."

for a moment, if apollyon had been spiritual, he might have seen the starsheen of the stranger as something otherworldly, as if the very heavens of which she spoke had formed her.

as if she was not flesh and blood.

suddenly the demon wished to know if the desert priestess was indeed tangible, and in the smooth seeking way of a man who understands his own mind, he reached toward her.

slowly, gently, a serpent coiling.