Lion Head Mesa [mp] prada

Hurk

Akhtar swallowed down the acidic bile in the back of his throat, allowing his head to lower noodly to the ground.

The shadow of a curse was resting over their comfortable little land, and he’d become the unwitting sucker of it. A fellahin, feeding him fermented berries, and who was he to say no to beautiful people offering him things? 

A fool. A damned fool.

He groaned emphatically to his empty room. 

Fucking stupid.

The sound of paws outside his room. He swallowed back the rising tide.

A breath.

You may enter. Half spoken into the dirt. Perhaps they’d think him just sickly. There was something going around it seemed.

Hope ya don't mind :>

Hello? Mister Hem? That's right, right? the voice not of a servant, but of a deer-pelted Sesh answered him, and tentatively entered the room. Could he even fit in here? Who was the Hem that he had followed, saw and got concerned over? 

Was he okay? He'd brought a small bundle of herbs that he was half-sure could do something. Haizel had spent much of his time making sure he knew what all of the plants he loved dearly could do.

I hate to burst in, but you looked ill, so I came to see if you were okay...