Indulgence

The treatment of a dignitary here was not as expected, and perhaps that was a foolish thing to believe in the first place. The Desert of Skulls had been so nasty and unforgiving that Shalia did not imagine her reception was going to be handled so well. The Ascendant was very cordial unlike her meeting with the Kumik-- generally her own people. The Ozainae were seemingly a more civilized native society, but then again wasn’t ‘civilized’ just another way to make people feel superior? Dictate who was inferior? Wasn’t that term overused and quite honestly, shit?

Her guards were given their own more simplistic quarters nearby. They had spent long enough out in the sun while she herself had shelter, and deserved rest, too. She did not feel under much threat in this place which was a bit of a shock. Would take some adjusting.
That eerily calm sensation of finally being at one of the last markers in her path. It all felt a bit too easy, but she reminded herself that the way here was anything but. She deserved to rest her weary head.

A light meal had greeted her in the room, which she learned from a servant was some sort of small roasted reptile, a bowl of fresh red berries, and water in a clay cup. The craftsmanship, though many might think it to be basic, was clearly the result of someone who delicately cared for their clay. It took a steady, passionate hand to create this vessel. Patience. Precision. Presumably the natives of Arcadia did not have any mechanism like the kick wheels her mother once threw on, at least not that she had seen. She wondered where they had harvested this clay from, likely in the process of setting up their agriculture system…
It all was consumed gradually so as not to upset her unpredictable appetite these days, but as she held some berries in her palm and swallowed a chunk of the chewy meat, Shalia could not help herself when gazing around the room. She wandered over to tapestries with bright and beautiful art, examining them with a critical eye. Some of them looked more visually abstract while others likely told an old Ozainae tale which she was equally curious about. She would have touched them too if she had not been eating at the moment. For now, she would admire the art from a short distance and imagine who made it.

Shalia looked at the view of the oasis in the great big room with its great big windows. She wouldn’t think very long about it as memories of the Armat Caravanserai came back, and with that came memories of her.

The final tiring illusions from the desert lingered, hissing and nipping at her heels, and then it was gone by the time she found her gaze on the massive bed. By the gods, she could fit a whole family on this thing! If she were clean, she would have thrown herself into the silky caresses already, but alas she needed--

~Oh my word…a tub!~

Shalia’s face lit up at all the luxury in this room. It became clear to her that the Holy City was going to be not only the final stretch on the most perilous journey she had taken thus far, but also the closest to being pampered and pleased that she had felt--and would likely feel-- in a long time.

She asked the servants to prepare the bath and if they had anything good for healing sunburns out here. One of them filled the water while the other went away to retrieve an oil vial that was taken from some leafy plant they grew named ailo. Ailuva, loosely meaning 'sun-soothe' in Ozainae was the oil to be used on skin the sun irritated.
The woman also explained to her that the second small jar of a cream-like mixture she brought was called ailphri, or 'sun-shield'. She suggested that the fair witch use it to protect herself under the sun after eyeing the state of her skin and physical discomfort. A suggestion Shalia would accept graciously.

The oil smelled strongly of something akin to cinnamon and black pepper, a scent that was almost sensual in the way Shalia interpreted it. The witch was more than happy to use it on her peeling body and everywhere else. Scrubbing it into her wet hair, washing her face with it. She hadn’t exactly been exposed to a lot of soaps and skincare out in this wild world, so she would take what she could get.
The cream was thick and would last her a decent while if she used it sparingly, and ultimately smelled the same but a little less intense. If the products did what they were said to do, she might just request more before they departed. Shalia was desperate when it came to making desert travel a little easier.

When she was done, she wrapped herself in a clean robe as her dirty one and the hide clothing beneath it were carried off to wash and dry per request. Combed and braided her hair. Massaged aching limbs. Picked off the last of the fresh berries from her meal. The servants informed her that she could have whatever she liked during her stay within reason. That meant an opportunity to sample culture, drinks, and local cuisine, though she would be mindful of her eyes and ears being bigger than her stomach. Surely she had ample time to learn about all things Ozainae. It only made sense for an ally to make themselves familiar…but she was filled with a notion of genuine excitement at the opportunity beyond diplomatic etiquette.

With a full belly, clean body, and an eased mind, Shalia seated herself at the writing desk fitted with a few sheets of sandy parchment and some kind of inky mixture with a wooden utensil for writing.
To wind down, she began to write. Inspiration had hit her and everything she needed was laid out.
It would help brush up on her Mizaran to write some phrases her father used to say, would help ease her into comfort when writing the Helian lullaby her mother sang at night, to write a poem of her own like she sometimes did back in Fang. Hum an Odonine chant softly.
These supplies were an improvement from charcoal drawing and staining discarded hides or pale stones with berry juice just to make a few words legible. It practically called her to the blank page.

In the margins of something new she wrote, with little to no thought being put toward it, she scrawled some symbols down. Ones she could vaguely recall in her sleepy condition, but not place the full meaning of immediately. Her lips moved in some muttering, eyes drooping heavily now with her head resting in a palm.

Not long after, when she finished kissing her ring and the wooden yak head pendant of the banner, she sat them on a small beside table. She wrapped herself with the sheets and nestled into a sleep so restful that it would feel eternal.
Shalia drifted off to light wonderings of breakfast. Maybe she could have some of that hibiscus tea again in the morning with this mysterious Tamazzalt fellow. Enjoying it in a garden sounded splendid yet so bizarre in the middle of a treacherous landscape. Bizarre but wonderful.

This place was very real. Even then, she behaved in a manner that was almost hesitant to indulge herself in any of it, afraid it might pass through her fingers like a grain of sand if she blinked.

But indulge shamelessly she did.