Why People Think Im Crazy

✨You just shrugged. Honestly, it didn’t really matter. You had your henna done! You practically skipped through the day, all but proudly shoving your decorated hands in everyone’s faces and watching their reactions. Your friends were impressed - even Grim wanted his own henna done too. You just smiled and nodded, eyeing his fur. Maybe instead you could have Minajael decorate a handkerchief and tie it around Grim’s neck…?

✨As you were lost in thought, a loud voice calling your name drew your attention. You looked up. Waving at you from the end of the hall with his drumsticks, was Kalim grinning at you. Behind him, you could spot Jamil shouldering his gym bag. They must’ve just finished up their club activities. Perfect timing!

“Hey guys!” You grinned at Kalim, watching him rush over to you. “Kalim, slow down-!” Jamil tried, but Kalim stopped just in front of you. “So you did get your mehendi done! Cater told us during practice!” You nodded, proudly holding your arms up, “mm-hmm!~”

Kalim’s ruby eyes sparkled, “Oh wow! Can I see?” He took your hand in his, pulling it up to see the henna. “Your mehendi is so pretty! It’s so detailed!” His hands were warm, gently running his fingers over your skin. You chuckled as Kalim twisted your hands around to admire them, ruby eyes sparkling. You must’ve been like this with Minajael too, you mused. 

Jamil finally made it to you both, looking tired. “Hey Jamil,” you said with a small smile, ignoring Kalim scrutinizing your arms, “how was basketball practice?” He huffed, shaking his head with a tired look. “Floyd.” “Ah.” You nodded, deciding not to ask. 

Kalim looked up, “Look! (Name) has their mehendi done!” That’s when Jamil finally noticed it. Silently, he admired the stain. It was nice, he thought. Even at a passing glance, anyone could tell your henna was painstakingly done. Flowering blossoms spiraled on your arms, finally reaching your hands. Even your palms had a design, a mandala stained darker than the rest of your skin. Jamil nodded with a smile, “It’s very nice, (Name).” 

While Kalim gushed, Jamil studied the pattern. The design looked somewhat familiar. Jamil couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but there was something about the flower design. He just shook his head. Perhaps it was just a design you’d gotten inspiration from. Still, how did you even get henna out here in Sage’s Island? It was the off-season for when people typically got their henna done. Even Kalim didn’t have any with him. 

Beside you, Kalim tapped one of the henna flowers thoughtfully. “This looks kind of like royal mehndi designs,” he commented. Your eyes widened, “really?” Kalim nodded, “mm-hmm! That design is usually done by the royal family! The jasmine flowers are pretty unique designs, a lot of people in the Scalding Sands like ‘em. I know my cousin does!”

At that, Jamil eyed the floral design carefully. Hmm, Royal designs? His brow furrowed. Was that where he’d seen those flower motifs? He shook his head, no, you must’ve seen it at the Scalding Sands when he took you to the Yasamina Silk festival. He must be overthinking it. “Did you look the design up online?” Jamil asked, keeping his tone even. You chewed the inside of your mouth, not wanting to say. “Um, kind of?” you said, not noticing Kalim turn your hand over to see your palm. 

“Huh, that’s weird,” Kalim squinted, bringing your palm up close to his face. “Why’s Minajael’s name here?” You flinched as Jamil’s bag cluttered to the ground. Jamil couldn't stop the words coming out of him, “what?”

Minajaels name? Was in? Your HENNA design?! Jamil all but snatched your wrist out of Kalim’s grip. You yelped, but Jamil ignored it as he searched between the narrow mandala petals. “Mm-hmm!” Kalim chirped, leaning to point it out to Jamil. Kalim didn’t seem to notice the look on Jamil’s face, or that your eyes were blown wide, “Right here, on the palm!” Following Kalim’s finger, Jamil scanned through the mandala rows until he finally spotted it. In the looping script of the Scalding Sands language, was Minajael written among the layered petals.

You shook your head, “Oh, no, a part of it got smudged or something on my palm.” Poor Jamil just stared at your palm in shock, almost willing it to be a mere smudge instead of that spoiled prince’s name. Kalim shook his head, answering your question, “nope, that definitely says Minajael. Right, Jamil?”

At first, Jamil didn’t heard Kalim. His eyes were glued to your henna. The vine-like design climbing up your arms, the swirling patterns flicked perfectly outward, the mandala petals intricately and painstakingly drawn in - all of it was done patiently. Fit for a royal. That’s when Jamil realized - Your henna wasn’t just nice. It was done lovingly. 

Something boiled in Jamil’s gut before he finally snapped out of his thoughts. “Yes, that’s certainly the Prince’s name,” he ground out, forcing a neutral smile on his face and letting go of the iron grip on your wrist. Kalim ignored Jamil’s inner turmoil, instead bringing your hand closer to you to point it out.

“See, (Name)? It’s right here.” Your eyes widened. Sure enough, the same area you thought was just a smudge, or maybe where Minajael lost control of the henna, was actually writing. Surprise overtook you as you studied your palm. Suddenly, the looping script didn’t look like random scribbles anymore, but an actual alphabet. So that’s how it’s written. Minajael… you looked at it thoughtfully.

Jamil’s gaze was sharp and narrow as he studied your expression. He didn’t like the soft look on your face one bit. “(Name), you didn’t… ask the henna artist to put his name there,” his grey eyes bore into yours, “did you?” 

You just blinked, “no?” Kalim chimed in, “yeah, why is his name here? Usually having someone else’s name in your henna design means that you’re enga- mmph!” Jamil smacked his hand over Kalim’s mouth. Luckily, you were too caught up squinting at the mandala on your hand to register what happened. 

You shrugged, “I guess… maybe he left his name there as a signature?” At Jamil’s deadpan look, you stammered to explain, “y’know, like how an artist signs their artwork! Yeah!” 

Kalim nodded in understanding, while Jamil frowned. “So, he did this for you?” At your wide-eyed look, Jamil pressed, “you saw him yesterday?” You pursed your lips. Dang, looks like you were caught. You just nodded nonchalantly, playing it off, “yeah, he did my henna.” If you were lucky, you could maybe get out without a lecture. Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. You sighed inwardly as Jamil’s eyes grew wider than a Spelldrive disk, already freaking out. “What?!”

You just shrugged, “It’s fine, I just… had some free time, that’s all, and I went to Royal Sword Academy for a bit.” Really, it wasn’t that bad. You’d left NRC with permission before, so why did Jamil look so indignant?

“You can’t just leave campus like that!” Jamil blustered, all exhaustion from the day gone as he scolded you. You tried not to roll your eyes as you began walking towards the Hall of Mirrors. “I’ve left campus before, Jamil. I’m a big Prefect, I can handle myself. And this was worth it!” You wiggled your henna-stained fingers, trying to lighten his mood. Jamil just groaned, “That’s besides the point!”

Kalim just grinned, slipping his hand into yours. “Hey, maybe we should get matching mehendi when this one fades!” You grinned, “definitely! What do you think, Jamil?” 

Jamil just exhaled. Typical of Kalim to make plans on a whim. You looked over, “Jamil?” You prompted. He willed his shoulders to relax, and nodded. “Sure. I’ve done Kalim’s mehendi in the past, and Najma’s too.” Kalim brightened, “we could all have matching mehendi’s!” he cheered. 

You grinned, nudging Jamil as the three of you began walking towards the Hall of Mirrors. “Hey, maybe I could try doing yours!” Kalim chimed in, “Yeah! You never have your mehendi done, Jamil!” Jamil hummed at that. It wasn’t often that he’d had his own henna done. Between handling Kalim and managing his own school and work affairs, it wasn’t something he really had time for. Still… He glared down at your hand with that prince’s name scrawled in your hand. 

As if his name being there wasn’t bad enough, it was also the placement. Something about Minajael’s name being scrawled in your palm made Jamil’s skin on edge. To have his name in your hand… Jamil scowled. As if that prince wasn’t spoiled enough, he even had to go and put his name on you. How presumptuous. Even if your name was in his own hand, the idea still frazzled him. He wouldn’t even want his own name being inside anyone’s hand. The mere idea made scowl. Did that pampered prince even ask you what you wanted? 

After you waved your goodbyes, he and Kalim walked through the Scarabia mirror. While Kalim chattered excitedly about your henna, Jamil was more pensive as he thought about the flowers encircling your arms. If he were to do your henna, what design would he make? Perhaps stars or animals? Maybe he could do arches inspired by the Scalding Sands architecture. You seemed to like it when you visited. What about faux-bracelets encircling your wrists? He shook his head, huffing. This was ridiculous. He’d simply ask you what you wanted, and he’d do it. 

Soon he was back in his dorm room. Even now, he was still stewing over your mehendi design an hour later. It was the sheer intimacy of having Minajael’s name in your palm…  He scowled. And the audacity. Minajael’s name in your palm was still on his mind, no matter how much he tried to push it out of his head. He unwound his hair from its braids, looking back at his reflection in the mirror. 

He wouldn’t dare inscribe his own name in your skin without you knowing. Jamil stared at himself in the mirror, eyes darkening at his reflection as he undid the last of his braids. Although… Some little part of him couldn’t deny the intimacy of having a name on someone’s skin. His thoughts drifted. Where would he put your name on himself? Certainly not in his palm. The implications of having you in his hands made his thoughts turn sour. Idly, he stretched his wrists, still tight from club practice. Then he stopped. 

Jamil looked down at his wrist. Idly, he brushed a thumb over his skin until he could feel his pulse beating underneath - dutiful, strong, and ever-constant. 

The rhythm of his heart, proof of life. 

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth. Maybe he didn’t know what designs he’d create, but he knew one thing he’d like. Your name written in henna stain over the pulse on his wrist. Yes. That would do nicely, ya hayati. 

I hope this was ok!! Personally I’ve always thought getting someone’s name in henna over the wrist pulse was super romantic so. I indulged myself. Also I had no idea what to title this lmao 😭

Anyway this was a lil late bc I didn’t know how to end it but lmk what you guys think :D Thanks for reading!! I’m glad so many people liked the Minajael part!!!!

Until next time, take care shrimpies~ Xoxo Calci!~