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The knock on the door confuses Nefer for a split second before irritation takes over.
Jahoda has taken things into her own clumsy hands, it seems—even when Nefer had explicitly told her to leave it. One of these days, Nefer will have to impress upon her the importance of listening.
She rearranges herself from her pitiful sprawl into something a little more dignified, sitting up in her reclining chair, the cool wash cloth over her eyes coming off even as her eyes pulse with pain, her head stuffy and her body heavy. At least her room is more or less presentable.
Jahoda can’t be at the door, because she would’ve been announcing her presence and barging in if Nefer didn’t answer in a timely manner. Only one person would’ve gotten past her, which means:
“Do come in, Lady Moonchanter,” she calls out, congestion weighing each word down.
The door opens to reveal Lauma, looking fond. She dips her head through to make sure her antlers don’t get caught—they look longer today; the kuuvahki must be stronger—before closing the door behind her, standing tall.
Nefer tries to convince herself the way her heart has kicked into overdrive at the sight is due solely to a potential fever.
“How did you know it was me?” she asks, voice even softer than usual. She doesn’t wait for an invitation before making her way closer, stopping right in front of Nefer.
Nefer tracks the minuscule jerk of Lauma’s hand and hates that she wishes Lauma would reach out, touch. “I have my ways.” Pain shoots through her head, concentrated in the temples, but she refuses to look away from Lauma’s face even if she can’t quite meet her eyes. “What brings you here?”
She can’t look Lauma in the eye because she doesn’t know what she’ll do when she sees the concern, the care. She’s feeling weak enough that it’s dangerous, which is why she needs to have a stern conversation with Jahoda.
“A little bird told me you weren’t feeling well,” Lauma answers. “Will you tell me what ails you?”
“The little bird exaggerates,” Nefer says. “I’m fine. It’s a mild headache.”
Lauma’s eyebrows shoot up. “I don’t think you’d be out of commission due to a mild headache, so perhaps it isn’t the little bird that’s exaggerating.”
“Who says I’m out of commission? I’m simply taking a nap.” The strain of keeping her eyes open, engaged is getting to be too much, so she closes them, reclines in her seat. “You’re disturbing me.”
Lauma’s gentle laughter rolls over her, and she fights the temptation to open her eyes and stare.
“Will you permit me to examine you? I’ll try not to disturb your nap.”
“Aren’t you already examining me?”
“Should I take that as a yes, then?”
Carelessly, Nefer says, “Take it however you want. I’m resting.”
The last time Lauma’s hands had been on her, she’d been bleeding from her eyes and halfway to unconsciousness. She hadn’t had the capacity to catalog any of it, let alone truly remember anything other than the faintest of sensations. After, Nefer had taken care to ensure any follow up healing happened from a distance and Lauma had never pushed to come much closer.
When Lauma’s fingers ghost across her cheeks, she flinches, heart in her throat. Lauma murmurs gentle apologies, and Nefer forces herself still, embarrassment at the reaction making her cheeks burn. Lauma’s touch is a live wire, sparks dancing down her fingertips and under Nefer’s skin, and Nefer can’t tell if she wants to lean into it or away. Can’t decide whether it feels good, or whether it’s painful.
Lauma’s palms cup her cheeks, fingers curled against her temples, branding her skin, and she shivers.
“Cold,” she lies, hoping Lauma buys the reason for it.
Lauma hums. “Apologies. It does seem like you have a mild fever.” Pressing down on Nefer’s cheeks, she asks, almost coos, “Nefer, won’t you open your eyes for me?”
Nefer’s ready to refuse, but her body seems to have a different idea: of their own volition, her eyes flutter open. The concentrated look on Lauma’s face fades into a pleased one, and Nefer’s breath catches in her throat. She’s so close, stooping low, focused on Nefer.
The urge to kiss her continues going stronger with each day, and this is why Nefer had avoided looking her in the eyes. The gravity of her presence, her steadiness, lures Nefer in, pulls and tugs at her heart, drags her affection forward, and Nefer is afraid of her ironclad control breaking. It’s getting harder and harder to guide the wave of her desire, let it pass; with each meeting, it threatens to spill over, run amok.
Knowing Lauma would potentially welcome it makes it worse.
They wouldn’t work in the long run, Lauma far too dedicated to her sense of duty and Nefer far too dedicated to her sense of self, and Nefer doesn’t invest in initiatives that won’t pan out. She’s far too savvy for that.
Still, she’s unable to stop from swaying forward, pressing her cheeks further into Lauma’s rough, scar-strewn palms. Lauma’s soft gasp has her freezing, trying to pull away, but Lauma cups her cheeks even harder, fingers firm against her skin.
“Don’t,” she breathes, almost pleading, and once again, Nefer is unable to prevent herself from obeying.
She needs to say something, though—anything, to cut this short, to snip the reel that keeps pulling her, so she says, voice scratchy, “Are you always so hands on with your patients, Ms. Moonchanter?”
Lauma’s cheeks color, but she doesn’t drop her hands. “When they’re stubborn, I sometimes have to be.”
“I’ve never been called stubborn before,” Nefer mutters, and it gets the intended disbelieving laugh out of Lauma, “but I am hoping you’re able to conclude your examination soon. Have you found what ails me?”
Lauma thumbs at Nefer’s dark circles, soothing. “I fear it might be due to overexertion.”
She’d been putting in late nights for the past week straight, gathering intel for Yelan, but Lauma wouldn’t know that. “Everyone knows I don’t really do the work, Jahoda does it for me. Try another diagnosis.”
Lauma’s thumbs migrate to stroking her cheeks. “I’m afraid I can’t change the diagnosis just because you don’t like it.”
“What’s the treatment, then?”
“Rest.”
Nefer’s cheeks burn hotter because Lauma still hasn’t pulled her hands away. “Fantastic. I’ll start right away, as soon as I’m able to find a moment undisturbed.”
“Allow me to at least offer some relief until then.”
“Relieve me, then,” Nefer says, and closes her eyes once more, unable to take the onslaught of both Lauma’s gaze and her touch.
“Bear with me,” she mutters before there’s a flash of light and Nefer’s pain subsides into a low, barely-there ache.
“Thank you,” Nefer says, and when Lauma still doesn’t drop her hands, she pulls away, opening her eyes, unsure whether she’s mourning the loss or welcoming it. “That’s another favor I owe you.”
Lauma’s hands hover for a second before she drops them, shaking her head. “Consider it a gift.”
Nefer raises her eyebrow. Gifts aren’t real. “I’ll give you a gift in the future, then, too.”
Lauma’s sigh is familiar, and Nefer’s lips twitch. “Stubborn,” she says.
“Pragmatic, actually.” She reclines in her chair, crossing her legs, chin in the palm of her hand. “Thank you for your healing assistance, Lady Moonchanter. I’ll be certain to remember this remarkable gift.” A pause. “Did my wayward assistant offer you any tea? Snacks? Or did she just lead you directly to me without being a good host?”
“Don’t be hard on her. She was worried.”
“I know,” Nefer says, smiling. She’d told Jahoda to leave it.
Lauma’s gaze veers into disapproving. “Don’t be too hard on her,” she repeats. “She cares about you.”
Nefer hums. “Of course. And I care about her. Specifically, her continued employment at the Curatorium. However, since she didn’t offer you anything, would you like some tea? If not, I have something stronger from Liyue you might enjoy as well.”
Anything to get them out of her room, back into a place where Nefer knows how to guide the interaction.
“I would love to stay, but I have to get back to the enclave,” she says.
The genuine regret in her words is what propels Nefer to offer: “The Curatorium is always open for visits. Another day, then.”
Lauma’s answering smile is enough to dissipate any regret over offering. “Yes. Another day.”
“Don’t go bringing me any more gifts, though. Next time, I might have to refuse.”
Lauma’s hum is skeptical. “We’ll have to see, I suppose.” She turns to exit but lingers at the door, hand on the jamb. Looks back at Nefer, eyes soft. “Feel better, Nefer. Please reach out if it gets worse.”
“Of course,” Nefer lies. “Have a safe journey, Ms. Moonchanter. And thank you.” She pauses, allowing tendrils of sincerity to bleed in as she continues, “Truly.”
Lauma leaves without another look back. Nefer sighs, closing her eyes once the door clicks shut. She swears she can feel another headache coming on.