Your bare face pisses me off. That's what you had said before dragging him without any explanation. Horus had been forced to stay still as you drew on his face, his blue eye fixed on your hovering face over his, as if you're the only thing that matters in the room (and you are.)

The tip of the kohl pencil was cool and smooth against his eyelid, drawing a sharp line. He could feel the faint brush of your thumb near his temple, pulling the skin taut to get the line just right.

He stayed perfectly silent, his breaths slow as he kept his head still. The air around them was thick with the scent of crushed mineral pigments and something uniquely Seth—perhaps lotus oil mixed with desert air.

You pulled back slightly, head tilted, scrutinizing your work. Horus’s gaze — still completely fixed on your face — followed your movement.

"Are you done yet, Uncle?" Horus's voice was a low, smooth purr, yet there was a hint of playfulness in his tone. You let out a soft, sharp tsk and only answered with turning his head sharply to continue your work, now applying a dark eyeshadow to his eyelids with your fingers. "...Guess that's a no then." He chuckled softly.