Rosewater Oasis Insomniac

He put his legs to the test again, no longer wracked with an exhaustion so potent it burned fires through every nerve; this could've been peaceful. Could've been.

One glaring part would always rob him of peace. His features pulled back in subtle strain every other step, he'd gotten used to bearing it in silence. Survived bearing it in silence.

He followed the waters, winding, shallow pools flanked with the vibrant blooms of desert roses; hundreds of them.
Tall palms reached to the sky, as if they might someday reach the sun, their trunks cast hanging shadows over the resplendant blue of the oasis, deeper and darker as they neared the largest of the pools. Perhaps the most lush of sectors, the main grounds were flanked with the brilliant scatterings of wildflowers and walls of green creosote shrubs, tall enough to shield from the desolate wastes that surrounded them.

.It's pretty, here. He murmured as he lead their pace, slow and limping.

Reminded him of home, in some ways. Even the pink of desert rose stirred a memory tainted with the face of death. A sister once wore one, plucked by him, himself.

That is where the hunters and warriors rest. He gestured with his chin one way. And further in is where the injured and sick stay.

Pharoah and Hemet-nesut take the nicest spot, where it is more private... higher and closer to the gods.

There was little reverence in the words as he spoke them. It unsettled him some, he knew that pharoah was blessed by them, crafted in their image; but the old pharoah had been too, and it did not stop the gods from crushing him in one single act of wrath. It seemed their love was a fickle thing. He saw it as an invitation for disaster. ...I do not come over here, much. He murmured. Nokht had been resigned to solitude since the wrappings of his leg came off, keeping to the quietest end of the oasis.