Two Eyes Cenote Sleep over

There is something to be said about venturing into the unknown. Here, in the walls of Muat-Riya, Rooke dived into the deep end. An isolated mountain boy now witness to the surface of court politics. Out of his depths. Out of his league. Before the royals, cur was apt description of himself. He was the foreign thing here.

Mongrel that he was, he wasn't without gratitude. Machiavelli's steady presence was grounding. He was relieved as Machi smoothly took control of the conversation. Simultaneously, there is shame. Rooke was craven in every way that Machiavelli was grace.

Rooke does not know what to do under the eyes of Pharaoh and her consort. He is both extended respite and commanded to join them for dinner. Between the pair, he could not determine how much choice he had. Perhaps one dinner was the price to pay to rest?

His eyes remained wide, an uncertain furrow of his brow. The flush remained to his cheeks as the Pharaoh openly stared.

Thank you. He wrangled his voice before it could escape him again. I will attend, he glanced to Machi for some semblance of approval, after cleaning up. I have traveled for some time.