Lion Head Mesa They say strange fascination, infatuation

The sound of the Crown Prince was briefly dwarfed by her own choking over phlegm and spittle; it was not a good scene to come upon, and had Nazli been more 'with it' she'd have hidden herself better and tidied herself more fervently; instead, she thought she felt a presence and lifted her head to look upon the mouth of the alcove, and there -- there stood her friend, her sister, her Prince.

Mm, Makono -- ! She looked the same: radiant, tall, perfect.

Nazli wavered, tasting the sour notes on her tongue of spent bile and realized how she must look. It was then she began to fix herself up; but even so, it was a haphazard attempt. She looked as if she'd just crawled out of the catacombs after an accidental nap, or something.

How have you.. been? Oh, that was not her place to ask! She smartened up, swallowing the taste of herself, straightening her spine, looking at the ground as steadily as she could: I mean, ah -- can I help you?