Forward-dated a couple ~ambiguous~ days.
She could stand now, and walk a little bit with help.
Her wits came back to her sometimes, and she recognized the room she inhabited or the faces of the
fellahin as they passed by the door; sometimes though, Nazli failed at that.
Being around Tavina, or Senmut, brought out the best of her. There was yet to be a moment she did not know them at first glance; but sometimes, mid-conversation or during moments she was given medicines, a sleepy look would overtake her features. None would comment about it while she was awake, that she noticed.
Nazli nibbled at a fresh meal now, ignorant to those around her. While her haunches quaked, she was able to keep more food down now than before. Her hips and shoulders were scalloped by the winnowing of her body, and the arc of her knobby spine remained prevalent.
She looked as though a desert wind might pick her up and fly her across the mesa like a tumbleweed. He kept himself apprised of the situation, employing a fellahin to feed him updates on the lilac girl, and in his downtime, he quietly beat himself to pieces to have sat idly by.
Perhaps if he had been here, Khaba never would have stolen the girl away.
She was awake when he dropped by, a skin held in his mouth full of exotic gifts, some form of attempting to apologize. Not very well, mid you, but Akhtar was rather allergic to “I’m sorry”.
He hummed pleasantly to get her attention, sitting the skin at his feet as he waved his coifed tail.
Nazli.
He suffused his words with as much warmth as he physically could. It wasn’t a familial sort of affection he felt, but it was far, far from romantic. He saw the girl as a colleague in her own right. A friend, maybe further down the line.
Its good to see you up and about.
When her company spoke, Nazli didn't react. She was picking at her meal and struggling to swallow a morsel; when Akhtar spoke further, a tremble ricocheted up her spine and her thinned fur stood on-end, puffed and cat-like.
Slowly, recognition came. She sighed and smiled at her feet, briefly bashful.
I am... happy, be... home.
It was her best attempt to speak with clarity, although she faltered and sought a drink almost immediately.
She was glad to be home.
Akhtar smiled, resting into a sit before the lilac grey girl.
I am glad you are as well.
He let his tail fall behind him with a soft thump of flesh meeting stone. He rustled into the skin he had brought, before bringing the source of water closer to Nazli.
Here, dear. Don’t strain yourself, you’re in a bad way.
An understatement, perhaps. He could count every single one of her bones.
The truth was, she should have never left. Why she had felt beholden to Khaba — who was a friend, certainly, but only a friend — eluded her now.
She lapped at the water and swallowed, finding comfort in silence.
For all the struggle she had been through recently, Nazli had been changed. She wasn't eager to get back to her work as a fellahin or to do much beyond resting, and could not fathom much more; and the previous iteration of her (before the starvation, before the large angry woman) would have been beyond eager for it.
A name did pop in to her mind, though. She passed a look to Akhtar and questioned, Makono?
Why had the queen not come by? Perhaps leaving as she did had caused a larger wound than Nazli could imagine.