Lala lay in bed, the soft green blankets enveloping her like a cocoon. The night before, she had conveniently disappeared without a trace from the hospital. She had spent the night at Toumas's apartment, waking up to the gentle rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains.

The room was quiet, Toumas was nowhere to be seen, and she felt a pang of loneliness tugging at her heart. With a sigh, Lala rose from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. She was clad in a blue sleeping gown that clung tightly to her slender frame.

“This gown is too small and tight for this one!”

It was a garment Toumas had bought for her the day before, but it felt constricting, suffocating almost, she had misjudged how thin her body was when she told him her size. She had a small frame, but apparently not that much. With barely a frown, she shed the gown, standing bare before the world.

Her bare feet padded softly against the cool wooden floor as she made her way to the kitchen. The faint scent of old spices and burnt candles lingered in the air.

Lala's fingers reached out, the touch of the icebox machine sending a jolt of cold through her veins as she served a glass of milk. The condensation created after she opened the machine dripped down the sides, leaving tiny droplets on her skin that sparkled in the dim light of the room.

With a graceful motion of her hand, a subtle glow surrounded her fingers as she effortlessly levitated toward the kitchen cabinets. Fingers grazing the rough surface until she found what she was looking for. A box of crackers sat innocently on the shelf and she retrieved it with a gentle touch.

As she settled at the kitchen table, the wood smooth beneath her palms, she allowed herself a moment of respite. The taste of the crackers was bland on her tongue, a stark contrast to last night's dinner.

“Oh,” she sighed, pushing the empty box away, the crumbs scattered like fallen leaves on the table. Then she cleaned the crumbs that had fallen all over her body. “This one eats like a parrot with crumbs all over.”

She made her way to Toumas's bookshelves at his library. The scent of old books filled her nostrils, the musty fragrance wrapping around her like a comforting shawl. She ran her fingers along the spines of the books, most of them in French or German, until her hand landed on a large volume of anatomy. Pulling it out, she flipped through the pages, studying the intricate drawings of muscles and bones with a focused intensity.

The sound of the front door opening broke the silence, and Lala turned to see Toumas entering, a paper bag of food in his hands. "Lala!" he called out, but she didn't respond. Toumas set the bag on the kitchen table and made his way to the library, only to find Lala perched on a chair, completely nude, reading his private notebook.

Shock flashed across Toumas's face, quickly replaced by a mask of calm. He crossed the room, grabbed a blanket, and draped it over Lala's shoulders before retrieving his notebook. "You are free to check any of my books, except this one," he said, his voice firm. "And if you wish to roam unclothed in my residence, do so in my absence. But in my presence, I expect you to be dressed."

"Pray, allow this one to illuminate thine understanding of Babylonian garb which was usually crafted of waist strings or diminutive loincloths that veiled people’s loins and bestowed partial concealment upon their hindquarters. Anon, their garb did evolve into knee-length swathes encircling their form, bound at the waist, concealing their back. Also, skirts, with angled hems, were oft donned by men, regardless of their station in the social hierarchy. With the passage of time, these raiments grew more intricate, a testament to their artistry."

“What?” Toumas frowned.

"The Babylonians did attire themselves in skirts bedecked with tiered fringes, bedecked in hues resplendent; crimson, ash, aureate, and alabaster, hues emblematic of Mesopotamian vogue. Yon Babylonian habiliments did usher in skirts of knee-length, erstwhile a male prerogative, and shawl fringes for the fairer sex to adorn. Upon that age, most maidens did enrobe themselves in shawls enveloping their frame, paired with fashionable skirts. These mantles did cascade in length, shrouding even their ankles, secured by a girdle to anchor the ensemble."

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“What?” Toumas stuttered.

"The progeny, akin to this one, were clad in tunics of amorphous shape, likewise spun from wool, coupled with sandals or diminutive boots. Yet, 'twas not uncommon to behold children of indigent lineage or thralls garbed in naught but their skin, forsaking all vestiges of attire."

Lala met his gaze, her eyes a swirling mix of colors, shifting from gray to red to purple. Her voice was soft but carried a weight of centuries.

"This is no longer Babylon," Toumas sighed. "Yet, I was under the impression that denizens of antiquity were more chaste and reserved than the societies of today."

"Babylon... more conservative?" Lala feigned a laugh, her voice devoid of any emotion.

"The Babylonians were not ones to shy away from carnal desires; they embraced them without restraint. Folks would partake in acts of intimacy at any hour, in any place, with any soul that caught their fancy. In the heart of the city square, amidst a midday jaunt through the countryside, or perched upon a rooftop overlooking the bustling metropolis, Babylonians did not hesitate. It mattered not, and none took offense; indeed, 'twas deemed sinful to abstain of sexual action. Maidens were even sent to temples once in their lifetime for such liaisons, the first to cast a coin into their laps was granted the privilege. Or so my elder sisters hath recounted to this one. 'Twas a sacred aspect of Babylonian worship, a homage to the deity of love and passion, the goddess Inanna."

“Oh my,” Toumas scratched his head.

"Contemplate upon this: a society where the refusal of intimacy was deemed a transgression, where the state of virginity was considered anathema. And here I stand, untouched by any man, woman, or deity, a deviation from the norm that brands me an aberration in the eyes of this one’s people."

“Whatever,” Toumas sighed. “I still expect that in my presence, you are properly dressed.”

“This one shall reflect on it.”

Toumas left the room and returned to the kitchen to store the food he had purchased. Lala followed after him as she draped the blanket around her as a shawl.

"This one sees you seek a cure for smallpox. Did Aram succumb to it?" She interrupted. “This one read it in your notebook.”

Toumas shook his head. "No, he did not. But I have witnessed many fall to it."

A bitter smile tugged at Lala's lips. "This one offers oneself as a test subject. If a guinea pig is what you seek, then take this one."

Toumas's eyes widened in horror. "I cannot, it goes against everything I believe as a doctor."

"But this one gives one’s consent," Lala insisted, her voice devoid of emotion. "This one has lived for 4509 years, trapped in a body that refuses to age. This one has not known love, nor borne children. This one has not even experienced the bloom of youth. This one is frozen in tyme, cursed with immortality. This one loathes it."

Tears welled in Lala's eyes, cascading down her cheeks in shimmering trails. "This one is but a shell of what this one once was, this one’s body is frozen in perpetual youth. This one cannot express joy or sorrow, anger or grief. This one is a prisoner of eternity, and this one curses those who find release in death because this one longs to die one day."

Toumas's heart ached at the sight of Lala's despair, her words piercing his soul like shards of glass. He longed to offer her solace, to ease her burden, but he knew not how. At that moment, as Lala wept silently before him, he realized the depth of her suffering, the weight of her immortal existence. And he vowed to find a way to free her from the chains of eternity, to grant her the peace she so desperately sought.

Toumas crouched beside her, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "This one wants to help thee, even if it costs this one’s own life," she murmured, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face.

“Very well,” he said.

Lala's eyes met his, filled with gratitude and a hint of sadness as they changed colors from green to violet. "Thanks," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

“Hungry?” he asked. “I’ll cook something.” He went on his feet to later gather the ingredients he needed.

Lala went back to the bedroom and dressed in a light blue dress Toumas provided. This one in contrast to the nightgown was significantly bigger and more comfortable.

“I’ve been wondering,” Toumas said as she returned to the kitchen. “Why do you have a cat tail?”

“This one is not sure; this one has had it since this one remembers. Only some Arlos and Janas can see this one's tail.”

“But I'm not an Arlo.”

“The fact yond thou know how to create a simple butterfly shall prove enough or so this one bethinks. Even if 'tis all thou can do!”

“If you say so!” he smiled.

“On thine experiments. Shan’t you test this one's body?”

“Well, but not now. If I were to experiment on your body, I have to bring my materials from the hospital first.”

Toumas made some beef stew which Lala devoured in a few seconds, and after he finished eating and washed the dishes, he took the keys to his apartment.

“Don’t forget to take your medicine,” he said before leaving. "I'll be back soon. Rest for now,"