<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/>Shazadi lifted a hand to cup Rashid’s fingers where they rested upon her face, flushed by the generosity of his words and the intensity of the emotion that infused them. She had been fortunate in her life to hear many compliments. Some casually as she walked down the crowded streets of the afternoon market, others traded openly across the table while sharing a modest meal. Still more whispered in her ear during the heat of passion, as body slid against heated flesh, underscored by the frenzy of the moment. But never had she been graced with the praise that he now lavished upon her or had those words been filled with such depth of emotion and utmost sincerity. For a long moment she was speechless, her very breath captured and stolen away by the sheer enormity of all he had said.<br/><br/>“Oh, Rashid,” she sighed, voice husky with emotion, “There is<em>nothing</em>about you that is unworthy. You are the kindest, most honorable person that I have ever known, and you make me feel more treasured than the Sultan’s most valuable jewel. But I am not a goddess.” Shazadi smiled, with just the slightest bit of hesitation coloring her tone. “I’m just a woman who has been fortunate to blessed by the Gods, and I have just as many faults and foibles as everyone else.” Spotting the abandoned cloth on the floor next to them, her lips tugged up in a mischievous, lopsided smile.<br/><br/>“For one thing, I have yet to finish bathing you, as I promised,” she said, arching an eyebrow.<br/>