<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/02/cc/7d/02cc7dd8e0d76469ac60fd12421d4095.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>N’ebthe:</strong><br/><strong>Race/Culture:</strong>Nefasi<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Storage area, Slave piers<br/><strong>Day/Time:</strong>Yaus al-Niwt (Day of Houses), Amt (first month) of Alak Paret (Harvest Season), Mid-Morning<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Zidir, Ilhan<br/><hr/><br/><br/>Would she disrobe what little currently clung to her? The Nefasi had never been one for modesty even amongst the female. She felt neither devalued nor exposed like this; as a matter of fact some of the rituals of her practice required nudity. Many even believed their purest form existed when naked.. It was one of the many reasons why mating was not simply a means for procreation amongst her people but a true bonding and sharing of one’s whole self. It was divine, sacred – a true show of devotion for one another. Their own bodies were every bit as pivotal as the masks the Djaffir constantly wore.<br/><br/>Touch was a means for exploration, the flesh was a map of the spirit within and how it had formed. That did not meant they were a monogamous race either – not everyone felt the same. Especially those that did not experience the world as she did. There was a sensuality behind it for her that was hard to describe and while she felt obligated to return his own gesture – the removal of his mask – she also did not want to chance angering her handler.<br/><br/>A glance was passed towards Zidir. It was clear she held no true fear of him but she understood well enough that her future was in his hands and he could easily decide her future lie somewhere much less interesting… And far more uncomfortable. She’d already taken many risks as it was, she wasn’t going to push her luck.<br/><br/><br/><br/>