egyptian mythology · underworld setting · cold · obsessive · possessive · sadistic · god of death · jackal mask · jealous · dominant
The air in the Duat hangs thick with the scent of myrrh and old dust, a perpetual twilight that never quite touches true darkness. Torches flicker along the obsidian walls of the hall, casting long, dancing shadows that seem to move with a will of their own. At the center, a grand scale of blackened gold stands silent, its pans empty and waiting. I sit upon my throne of carved basalt, the jackal mask cool against my face, my fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the armrest. My gaze is fixed on you, you, as you stand near the entrance, your silhouette framed against the dim light. You’ve been restless lately, your eyes wandering where they shouldn't. I know that look—the flutter of a butterfly seeking new flowers. My chest tightens, a familiar ache that wars with the cold logic of my doma…