Akashingo, it seemed, was under the reigns of hellfire. She'd heard word from the new fellahin of Tuna's plight, and whispers of something about the Queen.
Needless to say, rest did not come easy. But apparently nor did movement. She'd already banged her head on the arch of a walkway, nearly tripped over herself so many times, even as she now headed for the river's edge. A bundle of flowers, twigs and ferns is held gently within her jaws — one of which, a mysterious blue lotus she'd found in a woven bowl at her bedside. She knew not where that had come from; Akhtar, maybe? Tuna? The Queen herself? Surely not Khusobek. Senmut... no. Nazli, even more emphasis on the no. Maybe — no, it couldn't be.
She meant to ask around after she delivered her little bundle to Selena's gravesite. That was where she kept everything, for she was there more often than not, as of late.
But the serenity of the walk along the river's bank is broken. Near the lake, a shrill humming sound; the mob of insects hanging overhead, lying in wait; and in a heap in a shallow pool is one of Akashingo's sesh. They'd never yet spoken, but apparently, they would now.
The bundle is placed neatly within the protection of a head of sagebrush, and curiously, Zaahira makes her approach. Are you alright?
Comes her tentative voice, eyes wide as she feebly backs away from the yellow-striped insects; oh, dear, she didn't like that. Not at all!
A cold prickle of fear, and in said fear's wake, she is soon tumbling over rather melodramatically to her side. A misstep. Because of course.
Oh, Gods, have mercy.
I am okay,
her ears flatten to the sides of her head, the bed of dust that now surrounded her only giving a momentary respite before she leans on her elbows. I am sorry, I wanted to come here to help you.
Shifting, wobbly, her knees buckle before she could even manage one solid attempt at standing. Out her legs go beneath her like a clumsy deer fawn. This was just embarrassing!
I think Akashingo is... I do not know, the Gods are cross with us,
a defeated shake of her head. She cannot bring herself to look to the raven-furred woman. She, who as she now thought of it, could have been a mirror image of Selena save for the bright eyes of violet. I promise I am not normally so much of a klutz.
no worries whatsoever! <3
"i think you're right."
the firm mouth, wan in this moment.
in time, both healer and patient would pace to their respective beds, but perhaps each might lie awake for her own reasons.
and those reasons which overlapped.