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[color=21201f]B A S T E T ,   G O D D E S S   O F  P R O T E C T I O N.[/color]
[color=241b18]𝒂 𝒎 𝒎 𝒂  𝒖 𝒃 𝒂 𝒔 𝒕 𝒆 .[/color]
[color=7d694f] 𝒂 𝒎 𝒎 𝒂  𝒖 𝒃 𝒂 𝒔 𝒕 𝒆 .[/color]
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[color=#2e2c2c]..........................             [/color][sub][b][[/b] 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚂𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 [b]][/b][/sub][center][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/MY39Nrd.png[/img][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/center][indent][indent][color=9c9691][i][sup]He's here.[/sup][/i]

	It's a subtle twinge upon her nape that suffers under a tremor: that small quake of desire that coils upon her throat, burns it to ash, surrenders her tongue to a tool and means of fire that snakes against the bone of her teeth gnashed against a bubbling [i]mewl[/i]. He's always so close, and yet always so far; just out of reach from her quivering nails that know the lines of every muscle they have sunk against. Just yonder those doors where many Gods and Goddesses have come upon their summons, she has counted them all amidst the conversation she holds with Hathor muttering that she's [i]okay, just fine, always my dear sister[/i] -- and not pining for a certain God of Death [i]just outside those fucking doors.[/i] She knows she is inquired to about her familiars, but the rejoinder is snuffed out upon her lips and even with the Grecian poised and standing just right there as a visual token laced with mirth and charm, her piercing gaze has fled to the entry way. There it remains.

	Waiting, wanting, yet hating that need that simmers beneath the lace of her soul, Bastet is helpless against the memories that surface upon the turmoil that is her heart clenched in a vice with his signature scrawled in a vicious burn. Uncaring she is of the proffered conversations abound and commotions stirred from loosened stomachs and ruined shoes, the room is a mixture of spiced day-old-sex and rancid remains, and still, her gaze never leaves those doors. When Anubis enters, it's all she sees then and her lungs deflate at the breath she has been holding. He never changes -- neither of them do -- and his mere presence is a faceted jewel of yearning and desire that casts them in both black and gold. Golden eyes beyond gilded lashes brighten, gleaming with a certain knowing that flee away from the broad line of his shoulders and tick down the lines of his profile, raking through layers of clothing and flash back the way they came, sparkling in appetency. 

	Anubis is like the moon, bright against a backdrop of night, and she is like the waves of the ocean enslaved to his magnetism and though she may flee and crash against banks of sand, he brings her back, stronger and hungrier and needier than before.

	Bastet angles her body almost immediately when he comes to her side and there her cheeks color, just so, and lift upon the gentle smile that curls upon her lips. Perhaps the edges droop, softly, in the lingering feelings of sadness at their wayward hearts, but even so, Bastet is happy to see him, it has, indeed, been quite some time.

	[color=7d694f]"I --"[/color]

		[i][sup][color=black]miss you.[/color][/sup][/i]
		
	Everything is happening in waves and Bastet can barely think betwixt the chaos of emotions plaguing the walls of the room. It's much like a cage that becomes smaller by the trickling seconds that sluggishly crawl by. She almost feels the wills of time inch across her skin like a poisonous worm, unleashed by the Morrigan in such a way that bathed the room in leagues of dread and disbelief. Death is not of her domain, but her golden eyes find obsidian and she allows her stare to linger in mute inquiry -- did he know already? -- and once more, time is a dreaded thing. Her spine coils tight beneath her skin, her instincts birthed upon the wild accusations flung far and wide and the table flipped over in a muted threat. The air is awash in hate and sorrow and pain, and it bathes Bastet's heart in knowing. Memories bloom forth and she recalls wailing mothers and her attempts to subdue them, nails on her shoulders and faces plunged against her chest as they screamed. That accented tragedy colored their voices something reminiscent of desperation and seething rage and it's a sound she could never forget.

	Bastet is many steps behind in attempting to calm the situation, but she is no less involved. Each of those that speak and attempt to beseech to Hera's sanity have their faces committed to her piercing stare, especially to one man in particular who speaks eloquently and attempts to bring about reason to not just Queen of the Gods, but to her son and the Morrigan as well. He's nearly accusatory in his deduction and she can only silently agree. Her thoughts are alive in too many questions and she knows there's not enough answers for even one of them. She has come to know the ways of death, but how does a God meet the fate of the reaper. It requires all of her strength to quietly allow Hathor to merge herself into the confrontation, that will to protect her was fierce and vengeful and though Ares pockets his weapon, Bastet can taste his loathing and a yowl kindles away in her chest that boils to a muted growl. Her fingers arch, palms heated and quickly she clasps her gesture onto Anubis, pleading silently that he anchor her spirit as Hathor worked to siphon all of the emotions away from Hera.

	She knows the Goddess from her time spent at the office, they work in the same field, and her name is one uttered of respect and admiration -- if only they knew of her deeds -- but she [i]is a mother[/i], and even all the Gods and Goddesses in the room could not take that away from her.

	Bastet knows it's too much for her sister to take, her own soul wails at the blistering pool now pillaging Hathor's own heart, and she sees that much when she nearly collapses into her seat. Slowly, achingly slow as Anubis' warmth pools through her fingers and gives her sanity, Bastet comes to kneel before Hathor, her golden eyes flickering in worry and her brows arching at the tears still lingering upon her face. 

	[color=7d694f]"You should have allowed me to share some of that burden, sister."[/color]

	Gentle, as the protector she is, Baset loops both her arms around her shoulders and merely holds her there, steadfast and a pillar of comfort, and though she attempts to pacify her sister, never does her gaze leave the God of Death - not even once. 

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