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When Nefer finally awoke, she was struck with how incredibly thirsty she was.
Her throat was dry and raw. It was like she was back in the desert, back with her tribe after the terrible sandstorm, hoping for just a drop of water to quench the never-ending thirst.
But she wasn’t back in the desert. It wasn’t hot enough for her to be back there. Then, where was she? She couldn’t see—
Right. She couldn’t see. The pain came like an afterthought. The memory of the fight with Rerir came flooding back, hitting her with a ferocity that almost made her lose her breath. She remembered bits and pieces of it. And she remembered the searing pain of Rerir’s attack. Her eyes bloodied, vision fading. Even now, her eyes throbbed and burned incessantly, her entire body aching in a way she hadn’t experienced in ages. Even after Lauma had healed her, it still hurt.
Lauma. Where was the Moonchanter now? Nefer had been out of it after the battle. She wasn’t sure how everyone else was faring. Even if her blindness was temporary, thanks to said Moonchanter, it was beyond disorienting to be unaware of her surroundings. She had no idea how long she’d slept or what day it was.
All she knew was that her throat was dry, and she was thirsty. A feeling and memory wrapped up all in one. She hated it.
Nefer tried swallowing but that only prompted a cough to escape her lips. But that’s when she heard a soft rustling sound, like someone stirring. A jingle of jewelry and a slow intake of breath. There had been a pressure on the side of her bed that she hadn’t realized until it removed itself. And then there was the soft smell of lemongrass.
Lauma? Had she been here the whole time? Nefer wished she could open her eyes, but the stabbing pain and rough bandages wrapped around them prevented her from even trying.
“Nefer, you’re awake,” came the Moonchanter’s calm voice, laced with a sleepiness that told Nefer not only had she been watching over her, but she had been here for a while. If Nefer’s mind weren’t such a mess right now, she’d be dissecting that fact to truly understand what it meant. For now, she’d file it away.
Nefer didn’t have a chance to respond before Lauma was helping her sit up and placing a cool glass into the palm of her hand. “Water. Drink it slowly,” she said, her voice the same low, gentle hum as always. Nefer took it graciously, finding it difficult to pace herself. She relished it like a treasure, chasing away the thirst and the memories of the desert along with it.
“Thank you,” Nefer finally said, her voice still hoarse. Leave it to Lauma to know exactly what she needed without ever saying the word. That’s just how Lauma was — a caretaker, to a fault. Only Nefer didn’t particularly like being cared for. She wasn’t used to it, and it made her feel vulnerable. “You should go back to the Frostmoon Scions.”
Lauma chuckled lightly. “Good morning to you, too.”
Morning? So it had been an entire night since the fight with Rerir. No wonder Lauma had fallen asleep. That couldn’t have been comfortable. She should have just slept on the sofa, or on the bed next to Nefer, instead of hunched over on a chair.
The thought made her pause. It wouldn’t have been the first time they shared a bed.
Apparently, she had been quiet for a bit too long.
“Nefer? How are you feeling?” Lauma asked.
She sighed. “I’m fine. You can go home. Jahoda can attend to my recovery.”
Truth was, she didn’t want anyone to see her like this.
“Poor Jahoda has been beside herself with worry,” Lauma told her. “I sent her away to get some much needed rest.”
Nefer bit the inside of her cheek. She supposed she had been a sight for sore eyes after the fight with Rerir, blood running down her cheeks like in a children’s ghost story. It must have given the young girl quite the scare.
“And let me guess, I’ve been under your care ever since?” she quipped back.
Lauma gave a small nod — Nefer could only tell from the jingling sound of her horns moving. “Your injuries were quite severe. I wanted to be sure of your full recovery myself.”
Nefer absentmindedly lifted her hand up to touch the bandages on her face. She frowned.
“What is it?” Lauma asked. She was always so attentive. It almost put Nefer to shame.
“Nothing. I…appreciate your help,” she replied, choosing her words carefully. “You don’t have to continue using your silver blood on me. You’ve done more than enough.”
“You need not worry about me, Nefer,” Lauma said. Nefer felt Lauma grab one of her hands, holding it gently. She felt the roughened skin, littered with scars and callouses. It made Nefer’s stomach twist that someone so kind would be riddled with injuries like that. The pragmatic part of Nefer’s brain reminded her that it was Lauma’s own foolish desire to help everyone that had put this burden on her. "It's a small price to pay."
"You already know how I feel about it," Nefer sighed. "I guess I have no right to chastise you, considering I'm benefitting from it."
Lauma's hands had been one of the first things Nefer had noticed about the Moonchanter. The first mystery she had wanted to solve about her. Many more had followed. Lauma had a way of putting the weight of the world on her shoulders. Nefer would never truly understand it.
She felt a deep exhaustion tugging at her, as if being awake for this conversation had begun to take its toll. Her eyes throbbed with each heartbeat. It was quite the uncomfortable sensation. Lauma seemed to notice the slight change in Nefer’s countenance.
“I never took you for a worrier, but I was wrong. You hide it well. Still, there’s no need to concern yourself with me,” Lauma said plainly. Nefer was almost shocked at her bluntness. “You should get some rest, Nefer.”
“I suppose there’s nothing else I can do but rest, huh?” Nefer said with a defeated sigh. She leaned back into the soft pillows, the ache in her body deepening. “But really, Moonchanter, you should get some proper shuteye too. The fight drained everyone, not just me.”
Lauma gave an understanding hum, but Nefer knew deep down that the Moonchanter wouldn’t leave her side until Nefer was on the mend.
She wasn’t sure when Lauma had gotten so astute. Maybe she had always had a keen perception of people, and just hid it behind her wall of naivety. But it was remarkable how she always seemed to see right through Nefer’s facade.
That was her last thought before she succumbed to a fitful sleep once more.
The second time she woke up, she didn’t try moving. Her body felt hot and feverish, though the pain in her eyes had diminished slightly.
Convalescence was hard for Nefer. She had learned from a young age that showing any sign of weakness would only be used against her. So if she was ever injured or feeling under the weather, she’d choose to recover alone, locked away from prying eyes.
She didn’t consider herself a workaholic, per se, but simple rest came hard to her. When she was ill, she’d still find a way to busy herself with menial tasks. Being idle only made her mind race, and that was something she tried to avoid.
Only she couldn’t particularly go about distracting herself now, in her current state. Which meant she’d be doing plenty of thinking instead.
She had told the others that she wasn’t one to dwell on the past. Reliving her memories stung in a way she wasn’t expecting, leaving a discomfort swirling in her chest. But she hadn’t lied to them — she really didn’t dwell on her upbringing. She didn’t have fond memories of home, but it was home nonetheless.
But her rule not to dwell on the past was limited to her time in Sumeru. Nefer wasn’t immune to dwelling on other things. Especially when she had more free time than she knew what to do with.
Which is precisely why she found herself ruminating on Lauma’s words from earlier.
Miss Nefer, it’s not like you to lose your composure. That was the most reckless thing I’ve ever seen you do.
The words echoed in her head, bringing with them a swirl of embarrassment, shame, and also, surprisingly, a hint of fondness. She hadn’t realized Lauma had been looking out for her like that. She hadn’t realized Lauma even cared.
Of course she cared. It was Lauma. She cared about everyone and everything. She cared much more deeply than Nefer could even imagine.
More of the Moonchanter’s words swam into her head.
Still, I do not like this outcome.
I hoped we could win without sacrificing so much as a single hair on your head.
Nefer’s heart ached remembering Lauma’s words. That damn Moonchanter was so naive. In the battle against Rerir, the fate of the world was at stake. Everyone’s lives were on the line. Of course sacrifices had to be made. It was foolish to think otherwise, and perhaps only Nefer could see it. The twisted irony of being able to see all, and paying the ultimate price for it. In exchange, Rerir wanted to make sure she’d never see again.
A visionless visionary…where had she heard that before?
She was too warm in a way that once again reminded her of her past. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, jumping from Rerir to Sumeru to Lauma and…why Lauma?
A wet towel was placed upon her forehead, shocking her out of her incoherent thoughts. A small gasp must’ve escaped her lips at the surprise. She hated not being able to see what was coming.
“It’s okay,” came that voice again. Reassuring and soft, like a pillar of calm. How long had Lauma been in here? “You have a slight fever. A natural part of the accelerated healing.”
“I thought I told you to go back to the Frostmoon Scions,” Nefer said after a moment, clinging onto the newfound lucidity. She wasn’t sure if in her muddled thoughts she had been awake or dreaming.
“That won’t do, Miss Nefer,” Lauma said patiently, the title rolling off her tongue like a teasing remark. “Now tell me, how are you feeling? Really?”
Nefer sighed. “The pain isn’t as bad as before,” she answered honestly.
She heard the smile on Lauma’s lips the next time she spoke. “Good. The treatment is working.”
“You don’t have to stay here,” Nefer said. “I’m sure it’s quite dull. You have more important things to attend to.”
“…More important?” Lauma almost seemed affronted by Nefer’s words. She paused for a moment and Nefer waited, confused. “Miss Nefer, is it really so strange to think that I want to stay here to ensure your recovery?”
“You’re being too selfless. Go back to your people. I can take care of myself,” Nefer argued.
“Nefer, you don’t have to push people away like this,” Lauma said, the smallest hint of hurt in her voice. “I’m here because I care about you.”
Hearing her admit it so plainly, so unconditionally, made Nefer’s heart constrict. Lauma was too good for her. Nefer was nothing but an opportunistic liar. She was money-hungry, greedy, and selfish, because those are the qualities that had helped her survive in this world. Lauma was her polar opposite — altruistic to a fault, compassionate, and kind.
If Nefer was a sinner, Lauma was a saint.
“You shouldn’t waste your time,” Nefer said quietly, her voice almost a mumble. She wasn’t sure where the candor had come from. Perhaps she’d blame it on the fever. “You’re too good for me, Moonchanter.”
Lauma had bridged the gap between the two of them, sitting on the edge of Nefer’s bed once more. This time, she was closer. She grabbed both of Nefer’s hands in hers.
“You mustn’t be so hard on yourself,” she whispered. “You view yourself as some sort of villain, but that’s not true. You put up a front, but I can see through you, Miss Nefer.”
Nefer’s cheeks burned. Something else to blame on the fever.
“I can see that deep down, there’s good within you. I don’t even have to look too far,” Lauma continued. She was closer now. Nefer could feel her breath on her neck. “I hope that one day, you can see what I see.”
And slowly, Lauma leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against her cheek.
Nefer wished she could open her eyes right then and there.
She swallowed thickly. It seemed the Dendro Archon was looking favorably upon her right now.
“I didn’t think I’d see the day that Miss Nefer was at a loss for words,” Lauma chuckled, pulling back. The ornaments on her antlers made their familiar jingling sound. Nefer cleared her throat, willing the heat on her cheeks to dissipate.
“Well, I am at a disadvantage,” she said, trying to recover. “It’s easy for you to catch me by surprise when I can’t see what’s coming.”
Lauma chuckled again. It was a light, airy sound that Nefer wished she could always hear. Sometimes the Moonchanter could be so serious, but Nefer relished this side of her.
“Well, you should keep resting. Your recovery is going smoothly. Next time you wake up, we can try taking those bandages off,” Lauma said. Nefer simply nodded.
But something told her, even with the heavy tug of the fever weighing on her body, that it would be difficult to fall asleep after the exchange they just had.
Nefer was antsy. It had only been a little under two days, but resting was supremely difficult when you had so many things on your mind. So she was relieved when Lauma kept her word the next time Nefer had awoken.
She sat up with her legs hanging off the bed. Lauma sat in a chair across from her. Jahoda was back — she was waiting across the room with bated breath. Nefer could basically feel the anxious energy radiating off of the young girl.
Lauma pulled back the bandages. They fell to Nefer’s lap in a heap.
“You’ll want to open your eyes slowly,” she instructed. “They’ll be sensitive. You’ll likely be prone to headaches for the next few days, and I don’t want you straining your sight. That means no working until you’re fully recovered — got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Nefer replied, waving her concerns off.
As instructed, she opened her eyes slowly. They were sensitive, as Lauma had warned. Each blink was bleary at first and there was a dull bruising ache in both eyes — but nothing compared to the searing pain from before. Nefer looked down, inspecting herself — the bandages on her lap, her hands in front of her, the low lamplight of her room. And then she looked up.
Lauma was sitting in front of her, radiant as always. Even after the events they had gone through, even with the tiredness in her eyes, she was the picture of grace. Nefer was struck (not for the first time, mind you) with how beautiful she was. And true to her personality, her expression was pinched in concern as she watched Nefer. It was her trademark expression. Nefer wanted to wipe that worry off of her face.
“So? Can you see?” Lauma asked.
Nefer smirked. “I never thought I’d say this, but I missed seeing your face, Moonchanter.” The words came out before she could stop them.
Lauma pursed lips broke into a smile. Calm and happy, with a shade of pink decorating her cheeks.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she replied smoothly.
Jahoda hurried over, swimming into her field of vision. “You’re all better, Boss?!”
Nefer chuckled at her employee’s enthusiasm. “Yes, it seems that way. All thanks to Miss Moonchanter, here. And I heard what a caring employee you’ve been, Jahoda,” Nefer added. “Seems like I should give you a raise after all that worrying.”
Jahoda laughed — a little too loudly. “No need! Really! Unless you’re sure, in which case I’d never say no to some extra cash. I-I mean, no! You don’t have to,” she stammered nervously, before letting out a deep sigh. “I’m just relieved you’re back to normal.”
“Ah, ah,” Lauma said, turning to Jahoda. “Your boss is a stubborn patient, so I need you to make sure she takes it easy the next couple days. I don’t want her pushing herself too soon.”
Jahoda saluted, as if receiving military orders. “You got it, Lady Moonchanter!”
Nefer raised an eyebrow. “I’m right here, y’know.”
“O-Oh! I almost forgot!” Jahoda said, turning to face the both of them. “Captain Varka wanted me to tell you both that he’s hosting a celebratory feast at The Flagship! If you’re feeling up to it, we can head over soon!”
“That sounds lovely,” Nefer replied. “I’m tired of being cooped up in this room.”
“Something tells me that it’d be futile to insist you rest here for a bit longer,” Lauma said defeatedly.
“You’d be right about that, Moonchanter,” Nefer replied, standing up. She offered her hand to Lauma. “Care to join?”
The Moonchanter smiled at her, slipping her scarred palm into Nefer’s hand. “I’d love to.”
Later that night, Nefer would overhear Jahoda telling the others that “Boss Nefer was in a really good mood.” When asked why, she’d just say, “I’ve never seen her and Lady Moonchanter getting along so well. I wonder if something happened between them?”
Oh, Jahoda. Maybe she wouldn’t be getting that raise after all. Rumors about her and Lauma would hurt the Curatorium’s reputation.
But Nefer would catch Lauma smiling upon overhearing the same conversation, and Nefer would decide to let it slide. Just this once.