Lion Head Mesa a whispering god

kiseki-yoku was rising.

queenly whispers surrounded the royals' glowing pool, and into it senmut stared as if he might divine the voice within the catacombs. he was not able to determine what had changed of the wellspring, only that in some minute way it had shifted.

kiseki-yoku whispered unto itself to nichibotsu and hinode;

satsu's smile curling upon redstone walls.

senmut thought he must be going mad.

as of late, the palace had received @Machiavelli but no eset. a stifling heat in the wintertide air gripped red priest, and in search of that sweetened familiarity he moved purposefully through the scarlet halls.

a scribe with a prince's step. voice beckoned to the fellahin and senmut did not wait to be bidden. "is she well, machiavelli?" he asked, worried greenlight gaze etching over the traveltorn figure of the pearlspill man. he did not allow himself to remember, not in this moment.

Sorry for the late reply! I'll try to be a bit quicker with the next one.

The man could be found in a forgotten corner of the palace grounds, where sprawling prairie grasses met desert sand. His thin figure lay wrapped tiger-striped in shadow, hidden beneath the swaying foliage.

Just how long had he been lying there? The answer seemed unclear. But one might observe the way the dust and sand clung to his pelt, giving him the appearance a figure sculpted of clay and grass and all manner of natural things, left then to be remembered only by the earth and her slow envelopment.

As the Prince's voice broke the silence, the grasses burst to life as if startled, and something small bolted into the distance. The cold, opal-sheen eyes tracked the retreating figure's disappearance, a small huff of air escaping through the dog's nose.

Slowly, Machiavelli unfurled from his reclined position, limping forward a few paces from the dense thicket and onto a patch of ground where the wild growth began to thin. A dirt-stained forepaw rose and began to cover something over with earth.

He did not look up, his attention fixed upon his work.

Of whom do you speak?