<div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v622/Jagwaar/shazadi12b_zpsbdi1kpro.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Shazadi<br/><strong>Race/Culture:</strong>Jinn-Blooded Bedu<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Crimson Palace (con't from The Thirteen Monkeys)<br/><strong>Day/Time:</strong>Yaus al-Niwt (Day of Houses), Amt (first month) of Alak Paret (Harvest Season), Late Morning<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Rashid<br/><hr/><br/>Rashid’s laughter was infectious, and his words rang true, telling her more about his continued hunger than anything else. Their encounter, however satisfying, had clearly just whetted his appetite. She chuckled softly and smiled happily, which transformed her face, making it brighter, flattered by the compliment. But when he began to speak of his heart, and of love, Shazadi was overwhelmed by the sincerity and depth of his emotional confession. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew she should say<em>something</em>.<br/><br/>“You love me,” she breathed, humbled and incredibly moved to have earned the love of this kind and gentle man. “I’m deeply honored, Rashid. I’ll try to be worthy of your gift.” It was on her mind all the while she gathered the water, and while she began to wash his body, listening to him speak of the familiarities of desert life. It was comforting to share such things with him, with someone that understood what it was like to live in the great dune sea. Dipping a cloth into the bucket, Shazadi brought warm water to gently rinse the soap’s lather from his skin, soothed by the melodious tones of his voice and happy to give him this simple kindness, more than repaid by the grateful and pleased sounds he made in return. She was as taken with his memory as he was, imagining it in her mind as he described it, hands one again lathered with soap and moving behind him to scrub his back, fingers and thumbs kneading the muscles of his toned body while he spoke, becoming lost in his words. They wove a spell around her, capturing her imagination and transporting her to another place and time. It almost made her light headed.<br/><br/>By the time Rashid grew silent, Shazadi’s mind had returned to his earlier words, the ones that had precipitated his story. It was true; you could never know what the day would bring. She had no idea when she woke up that morning that she would run into him that day, or that he would agree to spend it with her. Or …<br/><br/>“…turn the corner …” Shazadi murmured, as her hands skated over Rashid’s back, sounding distracted. “…band of assassins …” Her voice dissolved into a whisper as her hands stilled on his skin. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating as the room disappeared and another Sight took hold of her vision.<br/><br/>“The market…” she whispered, as it began to coalesce in front of her eyes. Shazadi sucked in a breath as the scene began to play out before her. “ … there's<em>danger</em>ahead,” she breathed, as her vision began to go black.<br/>