Nasal Massage - |link|

Elias smiled. He walked over to the small kitchenette, returning with a warm washcloth and a bottle of eucalyptus oil he kept for his own migraines. He pulled a footstool up to her chair.

"Rest is for the dead, Elias," she rasped, her voice thick and nasal. She dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief. "I have things to do. I have a reservation for tea at the plaza tomorrow. I cannot sound like a frog." nasal massage

"I’m glad," he said, standing up.

He placed the warm washcloth over the bridge of her nose, letting the heat penetrate the swollen tissue. Madame Vos closed her eyes, her shoulders dropping an inch. Elias smiled

She took a tentative breath through her nose. It wasn't perfect, but it was functional. She sat up straighter, arranging her cardigan. "Rest is for the dead, Elias," she rasped,