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RP: Setareh Wing [Mission 3 Aside]

HotelKilo

Well-Known Member
VSV Arha Crew Quarters

At a certain age, with a certain level of responsibility, it was expected that things as petty as uncomfortable mild illness was something to be overcome rather then suffered. So Rasima Shahrazad Bousaid had confronted her cold head on and refused to be conquered. That was the plan at least. What had happened was that her fever had gotten worse, contributing to dehydration, even with the regular consumption of fluids that no desert nomad would be foolish enough to stint on.

Yet here she was, in all her glory, in pajamas abed with a cup of tea in her hands shivering slightly on her bunk. Rasima was glad that it hadn't struck until after her transfer... Getting sick and disqualified from combat duty was bad enough among strangers. With friends it would have been practically intolerable.

Setting away her almost-cold beverage, Rasima took up her tablet again to consider the unfinished letter home. Writing Hameed was one of the few Iromanizing touches the stiff NCO had, and that was carefully concealed from 'outsiders'. His latest update from home had been filled with the latest news of holiday celebrations, who had been blessed with children, or a good harvest. There had been some threat by marauders, but he hastily added that the Vanguard detachment had made quick work of the band.

She sighed, scrolling down her own much sparser communication. There was little in the way of gossip to impart... Her dear husband had a way of making the average daily news an amusing, rollicking trip through their local connections. It helped that she knew every name and place he mentioned... Rasima's writing was every bit as formal as she tended to be; no matter how much love she may have wanted to pour into written form the letters back never seemed to break a few terse paragraphs.

Not trying, however, was an unthinkable alternative. So Rasima typed. All that was left was her conclusion...

In closing, darling, do not forget me as I travel far from home. Please tell the children of my love. Do not forget that the payment on the loan from last fall is due at the end of the month. Write again soon.
Editing wouldn't make it easier to express herself, Rasima concluded for the millionth time, and sent the message on for forwarding with the next data transmission. She sniffled uncomfortably and took up the cold tea for a delicate sip.

Time for a nap.
 
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