<div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v622/Jagwaar/Shazadi%201a_zpsql8ohgqw.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Shazadi<br/><strong>Race/Culture:</strong>Jinn-Blooded Bedu<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Thirteen Monkeys Coffee House<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>Rashid, Open<br/><hr/><br/>The sun had already begun His climb into the sky by the time that Shazadi dar al-Hajaya dar Rwala dar Dulam managed to rouse herself from slumber. Shamash’s light was bright, reflecting from the dome of the Hadreen temple in the middle of the city like a beacon in the sky, even though the days were beginning to grow shorter as the wheel turned towards the harvest months, and it spilled through the slits between the thin fabrics that she’d hung over the high windows in the small room above her bed to cast a thin beam across her face where she lay in a tumble across the pillows and other bedclothes. Inhaling deeply, Shaza reached above her head and stretched languidly, extending her feet out from under the sheets to curl her toes and wake her muscles. Last night … last night had been a<em>long</em>night, full of the curious, the hopeful and the desperate, all eager to know their futures and what she could See, and happy to offer coin for her services now that she had returned to the city. Not that she was complaining. Her purse was relatively full, and with her newfound funds she could afford a few pleasures along with the necessities, and that would please the Lady – as well as herself.<br/><br/>“May business always be this good,” she prayed in a soft voice, before resigning herself to the need to get up. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she set her bare feet on the floor of her little dwelling and ran a hand through her unruly hair, stifling a yawn as the sun’s light caught the lines of ink that trailed down her arm and side. “Coffee first, I think, and then a bath,” she mused, in a melodic contralto that was well suited to her profession. “And then, a little shopping to stock my empty shelves.<br/><br/>A half an hour later, dressed in a traditional<em>tob</em>of rust, burgundy and black that complemented her coloring and eyes, with a long translucent copper veil wrapped around her head and partially concealing her face, and wearing enough jewelry in her ears, on her fingers or braided into her hair for anyone to know she was a nomad – and with the rest safely hidden in her rooms – Shazadi made her way through the maze of Sha’ib’s streets and the bustle of morning commerce in the bazaar to her favorite coffeehouse, one chosen for its potential for amusement and enjoyment as well as the high quality of the coffee it served. Today was a day to celebrate after all, as she was back in the city after a long absence. She couldn’t always afford the fare at The Thirteen Monkeys, but today she intended to indulge herself. Ignoring the merchants calling out to her as she passed by, smiling to ones she knew here and there and exchanging a few pleasantries with others as well as promises to return to sample their fine dates or another’s wonderful bread and still another’s vegetables and bring them news of their clan or tribe as they haggled over price, Shaza walked through the crowded market until she could finally slip through the door of the coffeehouse, where several patrons lounged on cushions at low tables, sipping coffee and discussing the morning’s news.<br/><br/>As soon as she entered the establishment the fine aroma of spiced coffee filled her nose and she inhaled deeply, savoring the scent and flavor that always reminded her of home, though of course no one could match her mother’s coffee. But, Nadal and his monkeys were a close second. Making her way through the room, she found an empty table near one of the fine draperies that hung down the finely plastered walls where she could keep an eye on the door, and gathering up the skirts of her dress, she took a seat on one of the cushions, leaning back against the wall. In no time, one of the trained monkeys ran over and jumped up on the table to sqwawk at her, a delightful, diminutive capuchin that she knew well.<br/><br/>“Ah, Jamal. Have you missed me?” Shaza asked, reaching up to lightly scratch behind one of the monkey’s ears. He lightly chittered in return, leaning into her touch and pawed at her with one hand. “Yes, I know what you like, don’t I you cheeky thing? And<em>you</em>know what<em>I</em>like. So, I’ll have the spiced coffee,” she told him, pointing to the picture of her order on the small card he carried in his other hand. The little monkey chirped and nodded several times as she released him and them jumped off the table, running back to the bar where the coffee was prepared, leaving the priestess with a smile on her face as she watched him, leaning back once more as she waited for the capuchin to return with her coffee.<br/>