Just Waiting to Wake

Legend slumped in the darkness, and on tired eyes and tired legs too exhausted to stand, she fell over. Fell into a deep, long sleep where the sun finally tried to reach her. Closed eyes, flattening ears, where her legs then tucked into her body, infantile. Oh, so sleepy. Oh, so tired.
So, so tired.
She had moved for so long

...

Never did like the fields. Too pretty were the flowers for an imp with a gone mind. Thought the buzzing of the bees were just louder static rattling around in her brain, but that much more real, and living, for that matter.

She felt small.

She always had. 
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But she could see him by the waters. Tail rising, those big long ears came to a tilt in the grass. Quickening pace, she approached at his back and felt a quirky smile lifting up on her mouth.

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@Khusobek

<3

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 he quieted.

 he tired.

 the captain slept.

 and when he woke, it was in a realm which made his heart race with unsurety. not the oasis, not akashingo, not muat-riya. khusobek, who had accepted their waking in the Field of Reeds, did not know what to make of this except.

"am i dead?" he asked aloud in questioning, staring oddly at himself in still water surrounded by trees he could not identify. but when he turned, crocodile's heart sang with relief. "legend?" and he marched toward her, glancing around himself in skilled scrutiny. why had the gods placed them here?

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There was one who did not turn their face from her.

Maybe that was why– why the woman moved so quickly to Khusobek, paws lifting to touch along the scars across his rugged face. "Khu?" Legend's throat was tight, and eagerly, the demon leaned closer, head tilting to look into the glaciers of the warriors eyes.

​​​​​Unsure, if only for a moment, if it was truly possible to envision something so wonderful and sickening at once. Being in a place unmade for a wretch made her skin feel sticky. Like it needed to be ripped off. But seeing Khusobek in the middle of it envoked a feeling of true greediness that caused closeness, clingy arms and pads that shuffled against the man. Frightened eyes that turned very lost the moment they chose to break from the mazoi, and guilty, maybe, to give him those owlish eyes that disgusted many away: those who thought they were too wide, too soft, too ill. Knew also the red from their straining had turned them ugly. Guilty, it seemed, to disturb even a figment of her mind. But she found panic in her chest when looking out into the field of unknown beauty. A wrist twitched on his neck.

Muttered as truth, "Only dreaming."
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she reached for him to wend her way; khusobek softened and put the brawn of his arm about her. "legend. we are well. i too think the gods have given us another dream."

 captain's eyes looked again for threat, and he surveyed shadows moving far off among the trees. "have you met others?" he had not, and held to the other mazoi as slowly red limbs began to carry them off toward those shifting apparitions.

 "not a drop i have drunk! and yet, see how i vision," he scoffed at himself, rolling eyes to Ra.

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Legend desired to be nowhere but all over the skin of Khusobek in that moment. Thick fur that was rich for the shelter she used it as, bundled up in the hold of arms and watching everything not his own self in a panic. Defensive, and then possessive to not lose even a figment of imagination. She did not believe him real, did not believe in sweet wildflowers and soft setting suns. But the imp knew the feeling of wishing to rip something out of reality and into her own body for all of eternity.

"I do not dream, Khu-sobek." ached the demon, wriggling into his frame and nearly drawing a hiss of terror at mere shadows in the distance. Instead, saw visions of raging hellfires and blood spattered on royal thrones. Heard the screams of pharaoh's long before Toula. Of gods that had always frowned upon her. Of ones that wished to smile on her, and just would not let them. 

They moved, and she stuck close, guarded to the mazoi, jodai, unbeknownst to her, rubbing an ear firmly into his neck to scratch the itch of craving any sliver of closeness. Angry to think that waking up would rip her away from him, guarding the man intensely, and yet somehow she felt as though she was hiding. Hiding under the shadow of his muzzle.

"Only you. 'N I– lost. Far 'way." 

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 in times past, khusobek had eschewed any connections between himself and another mazoi. he enjoyed the dominance of possessing fellahin, the rush of being chosen by one noble for any dalliances. on occasion he had even allowed himself to think of pharaoh, though his innate fear of the gods kept his mind from becoming so impure.

 but here, here in this gilded dream, he allowed himself to turn the high-powered lens of observation upon legend. she pressed to him, smoothed in anxiousness along his fur; her search for warmth began to rouse masculine response, and he hid this from her with a chuckling shift to taller frame. "then it is only you and i. for what reason have we been brought here together?"

 and for what reason did they remain?

 he became aware of her scent, her femininity, as he had not before.

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 in times past, khusobek had eschewed any connections between himself and another mazoi. he enjoyed the dominance of possessing fellahin, the rush of being chosen by one noble for any dalliances. on occasion he had even allowed himself to think of pharaoh, though his innate fear of the gods kept his mind from becoming so impure.

 but here, here in this gilded dream, he allowed himself to turn the high-powered lens of observation upon legend. she pressed to him, smoothed in anxiousness along his fur; her search for warmth began to rouse masculine response, and he hid this from her with a chuckling shift to taller frame. "then it is only you and i. for what reason have we been brought here together?"

 and for what reason did they remain?

 he became aware of her scent, her femininity, as he had not before.

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"Because." 

If only Khusobek knew. He was lost in senseless longing for answers that would not come. Legend knew one of them, and knew one of them well: the wicked did not sleep. Did that make waking dreams part of repentance? 

But what did she atone? Why her?

God knew what to show the devil in order to surge pain. Something she couldn't have.

Legend desired to drag Khusobek into darker chambers where the sun didn't reach and it was only them. He'd not see the blemishes on her throat when he was blinded, nor the imperfections within her own skull, could not run away to other men, women, friends, family, when there was no one else to choose!

​​​​​​But she wasn't supposed to think any of those things. Or think at all. It was stupid.

"Gods are torturous."

Legend's eyes squinted, and susociously, the woman whispered against the jodai's fur: "What is it seen?" Then, prickly hackles. She couldn't see what they headed towards, but she decided what they were on her own accord, whispering "Slavers!?" 

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