Lion Head Mesa [m] Elephantine

Again, her touch would pause as he spoke—the glance of soft peridot meeting the gilded lava of his own, and she felt her throat run dry. Nasima was naive in many ways, but surely, his desire to have no other attend to him for his injuries spoke of not just a certain fondness, but of something further…

Yet she could not imagine it! The way he wove words of compliments to her when he held the love and devotion of divinity such as Pharaoh—

—yet wasn’t such duty beneath her? Surely, if he requested, his wife would see to his every ailment, as one did when truly in love. But he needn’t worry her so, not when Nasima could do such work and assist…

Assist. To assist. She felt the lilt of her smile at his cloying words, her paw dipping once more to the salve and to rub at the base of his shoulder and nape, gently soothing—assisting.

And deciding then, that bergamot was a scent she would forever cherish. “We will let this settle on your skin—and then, after a relaxing sleep, you should find the pain to have subsided greatly. A bath in salts and hot water will also do you wonders, Semer-wati.”