One thing, fine hand rose and picked a glass jar from a shelf. Sangria-red eyes followed the brush-script of the Arabic, though he knew what it was long before he read the label. It was lavender, and almost empty. He had used a lot of it while making tea for himself and Sa’adat, easing the headaches that came from her illness. While he had not suffered the malaria as terribly as she had, he still spent many days lying in his room in pain.
The jar was placed down on the large wooden table. Enkiel was compulsive in his nature, and so there was very little out of place in the room. A nail supported the medical satchel that he so often wore, and it was here that the Tirones moved to. With this slung over his shoulder, he traveled down the hallway and out towards the entrance of the Guest House. Gabriel and Cern’s absence was felt—it was far too quiet without them here.
Once outside, Enkiel paused only to brush his too-long bangs from his face. His hair had begun to grow during the winter and now fell to beyond his shoulders. It was black save for his bangs, which were the same no-color tan as his fur. With well-placed steps the healer began heading west. Since the acquisition of Eden, gathering supplies had become quite easy despite it being a long trip. He left while it was still dark, and moving at a quick pace, arrived at the Garden shortly after dawn.
It was rare that she left the comforts of her new room, still close to the male who had taken care of her for the weeks since her coming to Inferni's borders, but it wasn't unusual to see the slender hybrid wandering the territory out of her own curiosity. She slept little even as the disease she'd brought with her had cleared enough for her to spend more time outside. Insomnia had often been one of her quirks; it hadn't affected her poorly as of yet, but she'd been waiting for it to sink in. To combat it, she kept moving.
Flowers were something she coveted, for the desert had so few of them that weren't covered with dust or died too soon, and the meadow to the west of the land proved a pleasant place for her to spend her time. It was where she'd first met the autumn-colored woman who, despite what appeared to be confidence and grace, seemed to suffer with needless emotional problems. Talitha. She'd found herself often stuck with caring for the two puppies that she assumed were Talitha's children, though she didn't mind caring for them if it offered the woman a chance to rest — the dark one offered her more trouble than the female, but neither were large enough or bothersome enough to be a real problem.
Still, it was nice to have time to herself. Her lungs filled with cool morning air, green eyes closed to allow her other senses to work. The meadow wasn't large, but it was cozy and allowed her to escape from herself without difficulty. Time flowed by without trouble. It wasn't until a new scent on the air, entirely familiar to the jackayote female, interrupted her thoughts that she opened her eyes and looked toward the east in search of the similarly sized Enkiel. He was quiet, something she found strange and intriguing all at the same time. A smile graced her features, slim legs carrying her in the direction of her healer...friend, could he be called a friend? She was always pleased to see him, a familiar face in the sea of strange features. "Hah-llo." One hand rose in greeting as the accented English word spilt onto the air.
By the time he had reached the meadow, the sun had begun to creep up from the forest at his back. It was not uncomfortably cold in the mornings yet, though he was well aware that the winter could arrive suddenly and with force. This month and the next would still be without incident, but soon enough all of his flowers would die and he would have to rely on those in the greenhouse. While useful, he found that the wild plants often grew differently—he was not skilled enough to understand the different needs of plants, and wished sourly that Clover had not abandoned them.
A voice distracted him from his thoughts, and the small man looked up. His movements were never sudden, never jerky; always, control. This he attributed to his holy blood. If he had been born another god, he might have behaved differently. Certainly, his siblings all did. Likewise, he did not smile to greet her, but instead approached at his same pace and met her without flair. “Sa’adat,” he greeted, his deep voice coming from such a small frame. “صباح الخير.”
He always seemed composed, which mystified the young woman, who had always seen emotion in all those she interacted with. Even here, in this new place, the faces bore feelings. Enkiel's did not. There was no return smile for her greeting, no slowing of pace, no sudden changes in him. He remained passive. Apathetic. Somewhere, it hurt her that he was cold when she attempted to be friendly, but it was brushed aside as his nature. Beneath the light kaftan she wore at all hours of the day, her tail swished from side to side in a continual show that she was pleased to see him. No more words came from her. They so rarely did, as she recognized Enkiel as a man and still upheld her mother's teachings that respect was to be shown to them regardless of place in the world. His own greeting was spoken in her mother tongue and it received a slow nod in return.
Had he come for the flowers? She knew he kept some somewhere, as he'd made tea for her with them before (albeit, awful tea that she hoped to take over in the future), but was the meadow the place where he retrieved them from? With a graceful, swooping motion, she plucked a brightly colored blossom from the ground and tried to keep pace with the Arabic male as, without concern for his personal space (something she proved to lack at any time of the day), she attempted to tuck the flower behind one of his large, black ears. "الصباح جيدة دائما عندما أرى لك." Her words were spoken with the continued smile, but a frightfully soft voice, and were presented as a truth she had witnessed on more than one occasion. Her days progressed more smoothly after visit from the jackal.
The quietness in Sa’adat was something he had come to expect. She reminded him of the women from the far parts of the land, who followed practices his own mother had never taught. Of course, she was mad. Why else would she bed a demon? Samael, whatever else he was, was no god. It had been his blood that allowed the true gods to come through, though, and this was perhaps the only thing that he had done right by his children. Coming here had initially been to find him—in his absence, Enkiel had found his own purpose.
So used to her was he now, having spent days upon days healing her from the malaria, that her closeness no longer bothered him. As a medic, he had learned to get over that idea quickly. As he walked, she met his pace and managed to secure a flower in his thick hair. Enkiel did not brush it away, allowing her the childish display. Alone as they were, he felt no qualms about her behaving in such a manner. It was a nice change from her behavior when feverish. “حتى مع الشاي بلدي المرعب,” he replied, slowing only as he spotted the pale flowers he was after. “أنا بحاجة إلى المزيد من الزهور. هل يمكن أن تساعدني تجمعهم؟”
The fact that he seemed unbothered by the closeness she often gained while lucid greatly pleased the Egyptian woman, for there had been times when others had grown outraged for what was perceived to be audacity. Catching up to him was easy; it was securing the flower that proved difficult, but she managed with minimal pulling of his onyx locks and it only served to brighten her features further as she watched him while they walked.
His comment about the poor quality of his tea brought forth vibrant laughter, a strange contrast to the usual whisper-quiet voice she possessed. Mirth filled her eyes, but she didn't correct him. She wouldn't deny it was awful. In fact, she was sure she'd told him in the past that it was unpleasant, though she'd meant it in the most constructive way. Tea wasn't the purpose of his trek across the territory, however — he needed more flowers, and wondered if she could help him gather them. "ما العمل الصعب لديك لي به ، وجمع الزهور." Back to the soft, almost unreal softness of her speaking voice, despite the fact that the words were filled with teasing sarcasm. She turned to look at the rest of the meadow with curious eyes as she wondered what it was exactly that he'd need.
Intimacy with patients had become something Enkiel learned to become familiar with quickly. When he had treated Talitha, he had to touch her in all places and do so with indifference. Even Gabriel had been a learning experience, for he was not the sort of man that one expected to touch with such familiarity. Very little disturbed him these days—even having a flower stuck in his hair.
He knelt suddenly, drawing the sharp knife he carried in his satchel. The lower and cleaner the cuts, the longer the flowers would survive. He would dry them, of course, but under his conditions. If they withered before he got them back to the Guest House he would lose the potency of their healing use. “كنت امرأة، لذلك يجب أن تعرف كيفية جعل الأشياء أفضل طعم,” he said from where he hunched, taking lengths of the lavender and piling them into bundles. “إذا وجدت الأشياء التي تحتاج إليها ، وسوف يعلمك أسمائهم.”
Too lazy to describe the flowers. O_O Mint, other plants and whatnot, also there.
Sa'adat al-Masri
her testament to the sky
'Frolicking', as she often saw any action that involved prancing around in foliage-based settings, was a pastime often undertaken by Sa'adat, and so it was with great pleasure that she undertook searching for things he wanted. He seemed to have faith that she, as a female, was capable of knowing the more difficult skill of making things taste pleasant, and offered her the chance to find things on her own. Oh, the chance to show him that she could make herself useful in more ways than simply offering him something to further test his skills on.
The exploration into finding flowers for the handsome jackal was pleasant. Taking up more time than she expected, she returned to him without the kaftan around her shoulders, instead holding the fairly large bundle of floral wrapped up inside of the soft fabric. It was strange to move around without the addition of her clothing, salt-and-pepper hair gracing her shoulders as she dropped the fabric-wrapped bundle at the feet of the young man. "القاهرة ومحطات أخرى كثيرة، ولكن أعتقد أن هذه هي مفيدة." She crouched to reveal the various types of flowers she'd managed to collect, sweet smelling and colorful and each useful in tea — cooking wasn't her forte, but tea was a skill she was proud to understand.
HEY RANDOMLY LONG POST WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? Word Count » +3
When she had arrived, Sa’adat had carried a disease he had been ill-equipped to battle. Enkiel was, however, a creature of resourcefulness—after all, he had come alone through the wilderness and found his way to this place. While he lacked the combat skill his sister had strived after and the divinity his brother claimed, Enkiel was wise. He was savagely wise in the cold way of his distance, which made him perfectly suited for his role as a medic. Sa’adat had come with malaria in her blood and a lesser man would have watched her die. Not so with Enkiel, who had sat up for long nights and learned what she carried and tasted it himself. Feverish as he had become, he had cured her.
He looked up as she returned, eyes lingering on the body she so often hid. This he recognized as the practice of women, though it was one he understood. Men gave into temptation easily. Even he, who had never felt any desire for the women he had encountered, admired her curves and her flat stomach. His medical eye recognized that she was well suited to bear children, though he would never tell her such a thing. Unlike Talitha, who was too thin and ruined her body with excesses, Sa’adat was (save recovering from sickness) medically perfect.
“لم أكن انظر القاهرة,” Enkiel admitted. “غادرت عائلتي من الاسكندرية.” He had desired to see the great city, but there had been little time. No, he had seen other wonders; Europe, where his brother had abandoned them, and Barbados, which had been a strange place he had quite enjoyed. “هذا,” he said, lifting up a stubby-leafed plant. “يسمونه mint.” He exchanged this for a long-stemmed bundle of flowers. “Dandelion.”
Shifting his weight, he motioned to a large bush closer to the tree-line. “الذي يسمى Hawthorn.” He motioned for her to follow, and with his own bundle of plants bound in loose cloth, advanced to the large bush. “يتم استخدام التوت لتضميد الجراح، ولكن اتصور انهم سيعملون كما صبغ كذلك. إذا كنت ترغب، يمكننا جمع اضافية لهذا الغرض.” A questioning glance, wondering if she might enjoy the project—he certainly had no idea how to use berries for dye or anything like that.
It had been quite some time since she had recovered from her disease with the help of the Infernian she stayed close to know, this healing man who seemed to know so much but felt nothing. The days bled together with bright colors and distinct smells and even though she knew now that she was still alive, this Inferni was still her strange underworld, but one that she did not fear as she might have in the days before. There was no Anubis, no towering Osiris, no dark Queen Isis...but there was Enkiel and Ezekiel and Talitha, creatures she saw in similar lights but on mortal planes. Without death, she served beneath them as a confidant and nursemaid and companion. As a subserviant member of what appeared to be a bloody, genetically entwined clan of creatures she was unfamiliar with.
Spending time with Enkiel allowed her to forget that she was in an unfamiliar world -- he spoke her tongue, and it offered a sense of home. Of Egypt, a place she knew was not hers by birth but one she loved as any loved the place they grew up. Inferni wasn't Egypt, it wasn't Cairo, it was littered with those from other places. Wolves, dogs, hybrid blood and creatures like Gabriel who were large and unfamiliar and completely male. She suffocated under the ingrained gender roles, jealous of Talitha's brash and abrasive nature and ability to force herself to the top of the ladder. Enkiel gave her some reprieve from her feelings of despair. He didn't ask things of her as others did.
She returned and dropped the bundle that consisted of her kaftan and the plant life, crouching and listening as he spoke and not recognizing his eyes on her. Green eyes shifted upwards to look at his face while he spoke of his own home -- Alexandria, not Cairo, a place she knew only by brief and undisclosed word of mouth. Her mind started to work, searching for the best way to speak of the large city as he moved on to the plants, lifting them up in turn and explaining their names, even including a bush she had ignored. In English, horribly accented with touches of Egyptian and Maghrebi Arabic, she murmured the names of the plants beneath her breath: mint, dandy-lion, hawsorrn. She gathered up the plants and followed as he approached it, staying a few steps behind so as not to crowd him while he taught.
Dying was not a skill she had ever learned extensively, but she was open to more knowledge, and when he offered to gather more for that purpose, she eagerly nodded her head. يمكن أن نكون? It felt right to ask even though she knew they would. Delicate hands reached out to ever so carefully look at the plant. انه من العار الذي لم تتح لهم ابدا الفرصة لرؤية القاهرة، بل هي جميلة. مكان جميل جدا. الكثير من الحياة هناك. Life she hadn't been able to experience herself before making her way to Greece and then crashing on the shores shortly before finding Inferni and her golden Saviour.
Focused fully on the berries of the plant, she shifted her weight and readied herself to speak of something she had been ignoring, familiar memories evoked by the presence of the healer jackal. لقد رأيت وجهك من قبل. Not his exactly, but the face of the bird-god, the Sun, was familiar in several ways.
