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“Breathe in,” Perfuma repeated. “And out.” Aromatic smoke swirled around them, making Scorpia’s head swim a little. Bad enough, she thought, the tent was so small, the homespun fabric brushing her broad shoulders as she sat, ungainly, on a folded blanket. She shifted slightly, trying not to cough in the hot, stifling air.
“Thank you again for helping me try this ritual,” Perfuma whispered. “I wasn’t sure who else I trusted enough to – well, I don’t even know exactly what it’s supposed to do.” Her nervous giggle seemed to defuse the tension that had been tightening between Scorpia’s shoulder blades, and with renewed confidence, she settled back into a more comfortable posture. After all, if Perfuma didn’t know what was going to happen, that made her complete lack of knowledge less of a problem, right? (Although, a small part of her brain wondered, if Perfuma was completely certain, wouldn’t that make her feel more relaxed, too? Maybe it was just being around Perfuma that calmed her? Nah, that was ridiculous.)
“I don’t think it’s ridiculous at all,” Perfuma said quietly, a rosy blush crossing her cheeks.
“Uh, Perfuma? I, um, don’t mean to alarm you but,” Scorpia leaned closer, close enough to see the sweat dewing on Perfuma’s face and shoulders, “I didn’t say that out loud.”
“Oh! Oh my.” Perfuma’s brow furrowed and she focused her gaze into Scorpia’s eyes, making the taller woman blush from more than just the heat. Can you hear this?
“Yes! Ooh, wait!” Yes. Scorpia beamed for an instant before realizing that this meant she would have to keep a handle on important thoughts like how far down do Perfuma’s freckles go? and gosh, the back of Perfuma’s knuckles look like they would be nice to kiss and I want Scorpia to rip my robe off with her claws like she’s shucking an ear of corn and oh. “Oh.” Scorpia echoed as the same realization reverberated between them. “Perfuma?” Scorpia’s voice pitched up and tight with nervousness. “How, uh, how long do you think the effects of this ritual will last?”
Perfuma pursed her lips. “If we’re quick, maybe three between the two of us?”
“Three…hours?” Scorpia’s abortive attempt to remember non-Horde units of time was swiftly replaced by a far more favorable set of tableaus. “Oh.”