"An Enlightening Lesson" Log Date: 11/2/99 Log Cast: Faanshi, FallingStar Log Intro: The great plague that has afflicted Haven has been brought under control... and though it has cost her not a little bit of consternation and frustration under the heavy teaching hand of the Nabi Devaki, so too has Faanshi's healing gift begun to come to heel. Moreover, she senses a measure of promise in the offer of the Sylvan FallingStar to train her in her gift -- not because she has been forced to, not because there is a specific task to which she must be put, but because she _wants_ to. Even more amazing to Faanshi, however, is the interest that has been shown her by _another_ mage, one of Delphi, a man, and a _Varati_. Not wishing to abandon the Sylvan yet shyly honored that the Varati should bother with a humble personage like herself, the young halfbreed resolves to discuss him with her new acarya FallingStar when the time for her next lesson comes.... *===========================< In Character Time >==========================* Time of day: Evening Date on Aether: Wednesday, July 3, 3905. Year on Earth: 1505 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waxing Crescent Season: Summer Weather: Partly Cloudy Temperature: Warm *==========================================================================* You open the door to the herbseller's shop, entering admist the soft sound of chimes. A Moment in Thyme - Haven A multitude of smells mingle in the air of the small shop, combining from plants hanging from the ceiling or sitting on the shelves, or concoctions simmering over the hearth set into the side wall, or any of a number of sources. The wall opposite the hearth appears to be a work area of some sort, with a scarred table covered with tools, containers, and partially finished projects. The back of the shop is where all the finished goods are kept, it seems, judging from the full shelves - all organized with careful precision, despite how full they are. In fact, the entire shop is kept clean, the wooden floor well-scrubbed to an almost glossy shine. A set of chimes hangs near the door, jangling softly whenever the door is opened. Obvious exits: Private Quarters Out FallingStar brushes through the curtain at the back and emerges from the private quarters. FallingStar has arrived. Come the evening, the accomplishment of her prayers, and the quiet creeping out of Atesh-Gah, the shudra Faanshi ventures once more to the herbseller's shop in Bordertown -- uncertain, though, whether an evening hour is an appropriate one to visit. It is with a bit more nervousness than usual that the maiden and her ever-present guard dog approach A Moment in Thyme; once there, Faanshi knocks upon the door to see if it's locked and peeks about for some sign of a light or life within. There is light inside, indeed, if slightly faint. And the creak of that one annoying floorboard announces someone's movement in the general direction of the door, so there would appear to be someone inside along with that light. "If it's unlocked, just come in," FallingStar's voice calls, just barely audible to someone outside. "It is Faanshi, Imphada FallingStar," comes the anxious call from without. The door does, indeed, open at the maiden's tentative touch, letting her head peek in and her green gaze sweep the room. Beside her pokes the inquisitive nose of the dog, while the shudra asks, "Is it too late for me to come for teaching?" "Late?" FallingStar repeats, paused about halfway across the room, her hands stained with color from whatever she's working on over at her table. She glances past Faanshi, out the door, and blinks. "Oh. I guess it is getting late. No, do come in, please." Relief flashes across Faanshi's eyes, and she opens the door wider to admit herself and her hound. Kosha utters a gruff little whurf of approval while his mistress closes the door behind her; then, the girl turns and executes the bow of greeting that appears to be her custom, hands clasped at her breast. "Namaste', acarya," she says earnestly. "Do I interrupt?" FallingStar wrinkles her nose a little as she glances down at her hands. "Mmm. I was just finishing...not really...here, let me just..." She turns away, mumbling to herself, heading back over to the table to deal with her partially-finished project over there. "Good to see you again, m'dear. You're never a bother, really." Kosha knows his duties; he settles himself with a shake and a whuff of breath down on his haunches by the door. Faanshi, in the meantime, ventures shyly closer to the older healer, something like a smile in her eyes though her mouth is hidden as always behind her veil. But her gaze ducks down, too; perhaps she's not told such things very often. "I have said my evening prayers," she offers, "and... I hoped perhaps if you were not busy... we could talk some more...?" "Oh, of course. Of course." FallingStar rapidly works to finish her task; apparently it's familiar enough to her that she barely has to pay attention. Some kind of herbal preparation, it appears, and now she's portioning it out into containers. "Have you found the chance to practice, like I suggested?" Faanshi's furtive, curious gaze creeps to the containers and what's being poured into them; this, for her, is a fairly safe place to be looking. Her sari-covered head bobs solemnly, however. "There are some Mongrel children who let me touch them... and..." Now, though, her attention creeps back to the Sylvan, as she goes on in uncertain tones, "I met a mage, acarya... he said he was with Delphi, and he has much power. I healed him, too..." Pause. "Delphi?" FallingStar actually pauses, one hand hovering over the next jar in line like a bird waiting to perch. "A mage from Delphi? He...what did you do?" No, it's probably not imagination, her voice sounds just the faintest bit strained. She did once belong to Delphi, after all, if the rumors be right. Either Faanshi actually senses that hint of strain in the herbalist's voice -- or else she imagines she does. Disconcerted, she lowers her gaze to her fingers and studies them as she laces them between one another, back and forth. "He... is Varati, you see... and... he knew I am a halfbreed and could tell I was a healer... he... wished me to talk to him." She does not clarify that she actually did this; apparently it is enough for Faanshi to specify that a man of the Varati bid her to do something. "He wanted to know who is teaching me... and he said that I am... frightened." "Frightened. Mmm." FallingStar's mouth twitches slightly, before she resumes her task. A bit more slowly now, perhaps, than before. She personally doubts that a Delphic mage would recognize her current name, anyway, so she probably has nothing to worry about. "Varati, was he? Older?" "Yes, acarya..." Faanshi trails off all at once, her delicate dark brows knitting above her eyes as her face snaps up. Then, shame tugs her gaze down again. "I forgot to ask his name," she mumbles, abashed. "But he was concerned about my teaching, and... and I told him that you were my teacher, but he still offered to help me, and..." As she speaks, her voice grows progressively more unsure. "And... I am troubled, Imphada FallingStar." The tip of FallingStar's tongue sticks out just a little, as she carefully tamps down the lid on the jar. "Troubled? Why are you troubled, m'dear?" She glances up again, frowning. "Did he say something to upset you?" How to explain this? Profoundly awkward, not at all knowing what words she needs to express the disquiet in her heart, Faanshi pulls in a sigh and releases it. Her fingers still fidget with one another. "He..." Another breath, and then she abruptly releases it all in a soft burst of anxious words: "He said that I have almost as much power as he does but that does not m-make much sense because he is an aged, a-a venerable mage and I am very young and my gift is humble but he also said that I am frightened and I d-do not know what to think because I healed several people dur... during the plague and in Avalon and... and..." Now, acutely conscious of her own babbling, she trails off uncertainly and wilts visibly where she stands. "My dear child..." FallingStar sets the jar down and brushes her hands together (removing fragments of plants, but not the colored stains) before moving over toward the halfbreed girl. "It's all right, be calm. Child, think about it. Why do you say that your gift is 'humble'? "I... am a shudra," comes the low answer. "And... and the... the Amir-al said that I-I would not survive the t-training of the Atarvani..." Does this translate, for Faanshi, to 'not good enough?' Very possibly. "Mm." It probably wouldn't be good for FallingStar to say exactly what she thinks of that particular statement, no. Probably not. "Would not survive the training? Did he say that you were not powerful enough?" Faanshi appears now to be focusing intently upon her breathing as well as her fingers, possibly trying to maintain her composure. Still, though, her voice is very small as she mumbles, "The Most High said... just... that I am too old f-or the training. He did not want me." These last four words are almost toneless, stoically delivered. "It... seemed the proper conclusion, acarya..." FallingStar folds her arms across her chest, head tilting to one side a little. "Too old for the training. Mm. I see." She considers a moment longer before inquiring, "How well did you do, amongst those afflicted by the plague? Or those in Avalon? Did you find you could heal those who needed your aid?" "They told me I healed nine after the battle," Faanshi murmurs timidly. "I... um... don't remember that. But I healed Thomas properly a-and the other two." "Were they badly injured?" FallingStar asks, as though simply concerned for the health of those who were hurt. Casual, she is. Just curious. Faanshi sighs anew, her voice just a trifle odd as she slowly replies, "Imphadi Gaiden... said that the nine I healed after the battle... had arrows in them and some of them were badly hurt... T-Thomas... had two wounds, and he had great pain although he didn't show it..." FallingStar nods once, absently lifting one hand to brush back her hair from her face. "So, your power was enough to heal those in need, to give aid to your friends. It was enough to heal those afflicted with the plague." She pretends to consider her words for a moment longer. "Indeed, it seems that the only thing which says your power is 'humble' is...you." "I..." Faanshi's sandaled foot scuffs uncomfortably along its mate. At a loss for words, the girl risks a peek up again, all uncertain and baffled, clearly unaccustomed to anything resembling praise. Unaccustomed enough that she can't manage any better reply than, "I..." FallingStar starts to reach out a hand, remembers the stains, and reconsiders. "It's true, child. Believe in yourself. If you doubt yourself you only put limits on your abilities. And you have a great ability, a great chance to help others." "The Imphadi mage..." Faanshi knows not what else to call him. "... said that... he wants to help... that he might come and talk to you... is that... all right, acarya?" A flash of fear in the maiden's green eyes, fear perhaps that she might be about to invoke displeasure. FallingStar gives a quiet snort, shaking her head slightly. "Delphic mages, coming here. Well now." She sounds more amused than anything else, though. Hardly displeased. "Yes, it's all right. I think I'd like to have a talk with the man." There comes another small, soft noise of relief from the young halfbreed; shakily, she bobs her head in acknowledgement. "I... um... healed him," she ventures then. "He had an old one's pains, and he let me soothe him..." "See? You *can* do what's needed. You just need to believe in yourself." FallingStar gives an encouraging grin in Faanshi's direction and chuckles softly. "If anyone tells you that your gift is humble or not enough, it doesn't matter. If I told you that you were an Atlantean, no matter how many times I told you, would it be true?" That makes the halfbreed blink. "Um... no, acarya," she answers, her brow crinkled. And then, a small strange noise escapes her: it might be a giggle. FallingStar spreads her hands with a satisfied grin. "Well, then," she observes. There, logic completely proves her point. Right? "If calling you an Atlantean doesn't make you one, then telling you that you're weak or not good enough doesn't make it so." Subtly, slowly, Faanshi straightens up a bit, her hands beginning to calm down, her gaze steadying. "I hope to prove so," she murmurs, her voice brightening just a little. "If you ask me," FallingStar murmurs, leaning closer a little, almost conspiratorially, "you already have." She gives a soft chuckle and straightens again. "Well. How did you find your practice of the last lesson?" Just a trifle, Faanshi brightens again, a shy eagerness entering her voice as she speaks, prompted by having information to offer. "The Imphadi mage..." She pauses, searching for words, one hand flitting like a restless bird as she thinks. At last she settles for going on, "... felt like... my heart-mother, before she got sick. Just... old, not too different because he was a man and she was a woman. The body... it... wears out, yes, acarya, as one ages?" "Yes." FallingStar nods once in apparent delight, clasping her hands in front of herself. She likes it when her students do well. "Yes, exactly, it does. It feels different from a wound or an illness, yes? After a while it does, indeed, just start to wear out. There's only so much you can do, of course, nobody was meant to live forever." Something changes in Faanshi's stance, and her gaze lowers slightly. "Yes," she murmurs, her tone turning uncomfortable again. "That is... what my heart-mother said. In the letter she left for me." FallingStar blinks once, then reaches forward and pats Faanshi's shoulder lightly. "Ah, child. It is as much a part of life as being born...although that's hard to accept, in your heart. I should know." It takes a few moments before Faanshi is able to speak again, and when she does, her voice has a slight strain not unlike the subtle one that had haunted her teacher's, earlier. As if she's speaking around a lump in her throat, the halfbreed murmurs, "Yes... but... I... do not like death... my heart-mother died, and so did Craft and StormBearer, and... an Empyrean I tried to heal once. There was... death, in the tent camp, too..." "I know that, child. It's...I think it's inborn in everyone who has the healing gift, that dislike of death. It seems like it goes against everything we do." FallingStar squeezes Faanshi's shoulder, just lightly. As a healer for so long, she's seen enough of it to know. "In your mind you can know, there was nothing you could do. Everyone must die, just as everyone must live. But in your heart...it's difficult. There are no easy answers, my dear. I wish there were." With an effort, Faanshi squares her shoulders and nods, soberly. "Yes... yes." The gaze she lifts again towards the Sylvan is ever so slightly hollow, ever so slightly dark. It is a truth Faanshi has learned, indeed, but if that gaze of hers is any indication, the learning has been difficult. "And... different kinds of death... feel different. Yes? Wounds... or sickness." FallingStar bows her head for a moment, then nods. "Yes. They do." She pats Faanshi's shoulder again, once, then turns back toward the table again. Can't stand to leave something undone for long. Restless now, Faanshi begins to do something she has not yet done in front of the older healer: pace. Tall as she is, the shudra has a long stride when she chooses to exercise it, and she can cross the floor in a few paces. "I... have touched death, acarya... if... I had not healed the Atlantean that the Amir-al asked me to heal, I... think he could have died. There was much burning on his body and he... smelled bad. It was different with the Empyrean... someone had..." Her voice hoarsens as she speaks, growing rougher with memory. "Stabbed her. Sometimes... I find people hurt like that in Bordertown. That's why I have Kosha, acarya..." And from the door, hearing his name, the dog barks softly. The soft clink of jar against jar resumes, as FallingStar finishes what she was doing earlier and commences cleaning up what's left over from the whole proceeding. "You..." The Sylvan pauses a moment, clears her throat softly, and tries again. "You...have Kosha, for Bordertown?" Utterly earnest and guileless, Faanshi bobs her head as she stops her brief pacing. "Yes... to protect me. He is large and has big teeth and will bite someone if I ask him," she explains. FallingStar glances over toward Kosha, blinks once, then just shrugs and returns to her work. He always seemed like a nice, well-behaved dog to her. But, well, if Faanshi says so, it must be true. "Well. It's good, then. Bordertown isn't nice, often." "I know this," agrees the shudra. "But there are many Mongrels in Bordertown, and..." Another pause, another wave of shyness, as Faanshi bashfully admits, "Mongrels let me heal them. I think I know what... 'normal'... feels like for a Mongrel." FallingStar nods once, attention fixed on the table as she carefully wipes the assorted litter off with a rag. "Good thing to know. Mongrels don't often see a good healer...they're often very grateful for aid. Especially when you don't expect them to feel that you're doing something beneath you, as a favor to them." "Mongrels have always been kind to me," Faanshi murmurs. "Indeed." FallingStar carefully shakes off the rag into the fireplace, amongst the ashes. Clean all that out later. "They have less ideas about snobbery than the other races, as a whole." Faanshi begins to pace once again, stricken by a different version of nervousness this time. "Yes... good ideas -- strange ideas -- I, I mean... um, Imphada FallingStar, I have not been able to heal anyone but Mongrels and the Imphadi mage lately... do you want me to try to get a better idea about, um, 'normal'? H-How it feels?" Ah. Change of subject. "It's a good idea," FallingStar observes, fussing with the last few details. Almost cleaned up. There. Good. "You get practice all the time with feeling wrongness, when people ask you to heal them. Normality can be hard to recognize." Faanshi considers this, silent for some moments as she watches FallingStar at her work. And then, she confesses, "I... am... not used to just... touching people, acarya." FallingStar manages a slight half-smile as she glances back up at Faanshi. "I had rather guessed that, child. There are things which must be done to be understood, though." "Most people... do not let me touch them, because I am... shudra, and, um, halfbreed," the girl says then, towards her feet. "Most V-Varati, I mean... since I, um... well, since I am a shudra...." FallingStar arches a brow, just slightly. "Well, then...try talking to some of the other races. Some who won't look down on you for that. Mmm. Perhaps we *should* go visit the Siren's Song." Hastily Faanshi blurts, "I-I-I-I do not think I-I would belong there, imphada...!" "No, I imagine you wouldn't," FallingStar replies, with a soft chuckle. "Nor would I, really. But I know some people who tend to be found in the area. And I doubt any of them would mind helping a healer student." "But... the... um... it is... a place of... I mean..." With the way she's babbling, Faanshi's _got_ to be blushing under that veil. Her shoulders shrink down a little again, helping to relay her embarrassment. "I-isn't it?" Pretending total innocence, FallingStar just tilts her head to one side a little. "A place of what?" "Where... um... men and women go to... um..." Faanshi is growing more timid of tone again, but this time, she sounds decidedly different. The blush that's been lurking behind her veil comes creeping up over the top of it, tinging the uppermost edges of her cheekbones. In the tiniest of voices she finishes, "Mate...?" FallingStar's mouth twitches. Just a tiny bit. "Ah. Well, that's one of the pastimes common to the place, yes. They do go there to get roaring drunk as well, sometimes." "I do not think I would be very comfortable in a place of mating and strong drink, Imphada FallingStar," the shudra maiden blurts out, at top speed and in one breath. "No? Well, then. Hmm." FallingStar purses her lips slightly, considering. "Ah, well. I'll think of something later. All in good time." "Well, um... I have... been there, when there was need... if... you think that it will help me learn... but I-I-I do not think I should mate with anyone or have strong drink..." These murmured words are the tiniest yet to come out of Faanshi, even as she attempts to square her shoulders again and recover that stoic look she must wear so often in front of those she serves. "Oh, no. Gods, no." FallingStar gives a soft laugh and shakes her head. "If we go there, it'll be so you can find people to practice with. Not so you can participate in the local amusements." Relief sweeps over the maiden in a palpable wave. "Oh," she murmurs. "Oh. Well... is that... to be my next lesson...?" She's stopped her pacing now, still nervous though not quite so much so anymore, that childlike anxiety to please glimmering in her limpid eyes. "Do you wish to do that this night, or a-another time?" FallingStar shakes her head again. "No, dear, another time is fine. It's best to go during the day, after all. Less rowdy then. Have you met Jenean, by chance?" "Yes, acarya!" That answer is confident enough. "The imphada who is the mistress of the place...? I spoke with her... the first time I was there." Faanshi ponders and then adds, "I do not think she could find the healer for whom I left the message, because I have not heard from her... but... do you think she would remember me?" "Jenean? I think she remembers *everyone*." FallingStar grins, amused with some inner joke. "She's a very nice woman, you know. She'd probably let you check on her." Again, the halfbreed seems to consider this, and at last she bobs her head a single solemn time. "All right. If it will improve my knowledge." Though that issue settled now, Faanshi is left slightly at a loss as to what to do until then. And more specifically, now. She cants her head slightly sideways and peeks unsurely at the Sylvan who is now her teacher. "What must I do until it is time for us to go? Do you need work done, imphada?" FallingStar shakes her head once, as she glances about the shop. "Nooo...no, I don't believe so. I think I got all the chores done today." She hesitates a moment. "Oh, out of curiosity. How far away from a person can you sense if they are in pain? Close? Or far away?" Faanshi blinks repeatedly over her veil, going very still, perhaps in astonishment at the sudden question. "I..." Her voice goes soft and distant and bemused, as she hesitantly proceeds, "I could... feel Thomas... when he was hurt, all the way across the room. And... I remember _during_ the battle, when Imphada Kira made me stay down in the wagon... there must have been... people getting hurt... many paces away, but..." As she speaks, she begins to shiver slightly, her hands running up and down her slender arms. "I-I do not remember how far away they were. And... I-I remember feeling the Prince before I got into the room, I think... i-in Atesh-Gah. And I-I got sick a lot... when I used to live in Clan Sarazen... when... when my power woke up. I-I could feel the Warlord w-when... w... when he was... sick... before I... got to his room...." For a moment, Faanshi shivers harder, before she forces her attention back to her present and forces her gaze back to the older woman. "Does that help? D-does that answer, acarya?" "That means, child, how strong your power is. How far away you can sense someone's need." FallingStar sighs quietly, rubbing the back of one hand across her forehead. "It's...not easy to deal with, sometimes." Thoughtfully, shyly, the shudra adds, "I... do not get as sick as I used to... if... I can't heal someone. I haven't... since I went to Avalon and have been practicing." She doesn't actually _ask_ if this is good, but the hope is detectable in her soft little voice nevertheless, as distinct as if Kosha had wandered over and fixed his large eyes upon a desired hunk of meat. FallingStar nods, lowering her hand again and scowling at the stained fingers. "You don't want it to overwhelm you - if it did, you'd never be able to do what you need to. Either that, or the power would just be drawn out of you without consciously willing it." "It used to do that to me," Faanshi says softly. "Yes...I know." FallingStar tilts her head to one side. "And did you get less sick, once you learned to control yourself?" Down goes Faanshi's gaze to her hands. And she offers in that same shy tone of hers, that way of speaking that suggests she is perennially worried about how every word she utters will be received, "Yes... after I went to Avalon... I came back and tried to practice, and I got... less sick. But then the plague came and... um, well. B-but then the Nabi was chosen to use me in the Tent City a-and to heal any sick Varati in Atesh-Gah, and I do not get sick anymore if I have to heal someone... not yet... I-I-I have not had to do any big healings though." "Oh, trust me," FallingStar murmurs. "You don't *want* to do any big healings." The Sylvan falls silent for a moment, then sighs. "All right, I think that's enough for tonight. Just be sure to practice if you can." "Yes, acarya." Acceptance of an order, even though an order wasn't actually uttered, is ingrained in the maiden's demure reply. Faanshi inclines her head dutifully over her clasped hands, and ventures to ask only, "When do you wish us to go to the... um... Siren's Song?" "Oh, um. Daytime. Soon, whenever you can come by. Probably in the morning, or late afternoon, so we can catch Jenean there." FallingStar smiles a little to her student. If Faanshi is smiling in reply, it cannot be told -- the translucent azure silk, as always, blurs her features out of easy viewing. But her eyes are calmer, a little less haunted, a little less hollow, and there is a touch of eagerness somewhere in her voice. "I will come again as soon as I may, Imphada," she pledges, "and I will try to pracice feeling 'normal'." Once more she bows, but then, as she straightens, she blurts all at once, "Thank you...!" FallingStar's eyes crinkle a bit as she grins at Faanshi. "Oh, you're very welcome. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to teach you. Enjoy your practice..." Her mouth is unseen, but Faanshi's eyes are not, and they momentarily shine as she allows her gaze to meet that of her teacher, green to Sylvan green. She nods once, and that's her only reply before she quietly retreats to the door to rouse her dog and take her leave... leaving as quietly as she'd arrived, with little more than the whurf of her hound and the jangling of the chimes to mark her departure. [End log.]