Ohhh.... The sound didn't make it to the cake-scented air; it stayed hidden, as so much of her experience with Utu had remained hidden. Morpheus did not come to her in dreams; he was Greek, she was Sumerian, and their duties were wholly separate. But had he been there during any of the last eon, he would have known just how resonant his story must be for Nanshe.
Utu never had known just how long, just how fervently she'd loved him -- and she'd loved him since before Babylon took over their people, since before the new gods began converting those whom their followers conquered in war and marriage. Long after the Sumerian ziggurets were ground to dust or buried beneath the dunes of the desert, she'd loved him. And she'd never told him. And he'd never known. Fool... yes. Yes, she knew of that. She knew a bit about that, indeed.
This time when she leaned forward, she didn't feel the hesitation between them. Instead, she reached out and set her fingertips on the backs of his hands. "And now she's pulled you in again?" she asked softly, but her voice turned urgent soon afterwards. "Morpheus, you must go to her. Now. Now, now, can you manage it? Can you catch her just as she wakes? Bring her here; we can keep her safe, too, but don't let her get away."
Having borne the ache of unreturned love for too, too long, she couldn't stand to see it in Morpheus. Not when his opportunity may well have just presented itself.
"I have plenty of extra rooms," she offered. "I prepared for a great multitude of your people. Please.... Please, will you do this?"