"Healing by Chance, Compassion by Design" Log Date: 5/14/99, 5/15/99, 5/17/99, 5/21/99 Log Cast: Ambriel, Pu-abi, Cyrano, Sarasvati, Gabrielle, Darias, Cepheus, Faanshi, Sevilen Log Intro: Over the last several days, Faanshi has taken the first bold step she's ever made in her young life -- by choosing to venture out into Haven, to try to practice her power, and to seek word of her missing mistress Kiera, and of Kiera's missing slave, Murako. It has been an action that has begun to have astonishing results for the halfbreed shudra girl... A raven spoke to her, when she tried to heal it... A woman with wings saved her life in Bordertown, when she and Faanshi were attacked... Kiera's naraki is not only no longer her slave, he is now known as Thomas Murako... and has become a leader of Mongrels, leading them to the infant but growing nation of Avalon. He has even invited Faanshi to come with him and his people... And Kiera herself has taken up residence outside of Haven. She has advised Faanshi to stay in Haven, claiming that the girl would be neither happy nor useful in the forests where she has been living. Timidly asked by Faanshi whether she might be permitted to journey to Avalon for a time with Thomas Murako and his Mongrels, Kiera Khalida has balked at the notion of Faanshi leaving Haven... and has instructed Faanshi to return to Thomas to get answers to certain questions before she will give her permission to make the trip. But Faanshi, shudra that she is, has only so much spare time in which she can venture out into the city. Haven, however, as she begins to learn, is the kind of place where a healer can stumble across the need for her power, even near the very gates of Atesh-Gah. And she will learn that at least one young man within the citadel of the Varati has no hesitation in displaying kindness to one in trouble, even if she is a shudra and a halfbreed... *===========================< In Character Time >==========================* Time of day: Late Morning Date on Aether: Tuesday, August 24, 3904. Year on Earth: 1504 A.D. Phase of the Moon: New Season: Summer Weather: Clear Skies Temperature: Hot *==========================================================================* You continue north toward the crossing of Palisade and North. Palisade and North - Haven Some have likened the Varati home to a geode--rough and plain on the outside, while opulence and splendor lie within. Certainly the first part of that analogy is true. The only hint that these buildings house the more prominent members of Varati society are their size. Massive structures loom on either side of the street, crafted from brick, marble, granite, and even metal. And here, also, is the grand embassy of the Varati. Only shaping magic could have created such a structure, for it gives the impression of having grown out of the earth itself. Like the others, its decoration is minimal, yet flowing curves and the use of obsidian and marble make such ornamentation unnecessary. Flanked by stone pillars, the entranceway is constantly guarded by sentinels who may as well be stone themselves, so humorless are they. Only guests of the kingdom and ambassadors from other realms may pass within. A gate leads out of the city to a road that eventually winds into the distant, northern mountains, though few ever dare venture that far. Contents: Ambriel(#809PJncem) Cyrano Sarasvati Pu-abi Jana Cepheus Darias Gabrielle Obvious exits: Atesh-Gah Streets Gate Ambriel moves with Cyrano, but keeps her respective personal space. Lightly raised brows watch the event, and yes, she's still smirking, no rush to help or be of absolutely any use at the moment, an improvised 'performance' for her, how nice.... Falling Rock arrives from the west along Palisade. Falling Rock has arrived. Jana leaps into the air and takes flight, disappearing into the sky above Haven. Jana has left. Falling Rock travels west along Palisade. Falling Rock has left. Pu-abi sighs, as she removes her hand, lifting her head, "Dominus, please, help?" The mongrel directs to no one in particular. "She has a broken rib, and I have nothing with me." Pu-abi looks at you for a moment. "What happened Archon? Is the woman alright." Cannot just jump into Medea's husband's territory you know. His wings shift slightly, a surprised look at Cepheus, he doesn't really seem to be helping the girl, not normal for a Hound. That's supposed to be what they do help women and such. "Leave you be to lie in the street with a head wound? I think not Imphadi, even if you did perhaps deserve the blow." Gracious, where did that come from? Pity her back rises up only when the chance that he might strike back at her is slight. Slowly the pair make their way toward the gate, the slighter figure of the Varati woman muttering under her breath now about the insensitivity of men and her race and the Empyrean race .... it is like unto a flowing river of bile. Gabrielle squeezes her eyes shut, breath coming in faint wheezes as she fights the pain in her chest. She lies completely still, afraid that if she moves even a feather, it might hurt more. Darias makes one last attempts to walk himself, but is unsuccessful in pulling away from this stunningly impudent female...he grits his teeth, in anger, in pain? Probably both. They pass into the gates... Sarasvati passes between the heavy stone pillars that flank the entrance to Atesh-Gah. Sarasvati has left. Darias passes between the heavy stone pillars that flank the entrance to Atesh-Gah. Darias has left. "A dispute... I ended it." The Oracle, a.k.a. Medea's husband, glances back at the group. "The young Empyrean would not stop going after the Varati... so I /"encouraged her."/" He looks back at Cyrano and Ambriel, "The Varati seemed to have trouble of his own..." The figure of the shudra Faanshi is an unassuming one, slender, head modestly bowed to keep her gaze averted from the eyes of practically everyone she passes as she treks up from the south, heading for the gates of Atesh-Gah, laden with a small amount of goods purchased with meager coin from the marketplace. The figure of a small dog trotting on a lead at her side is rather more obvious, as he scampers along, alternately whining at the indignity of a rope about his neck and yapping his presence to the world at large. Gabrielle There is a somewhat ...absent-minded... air about this petite woman. Cork-screw locks of spun gold tumble down her back and nestle about thin shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face with a slightly snubbed nose and a small rosebud of a mouth, formed into a constant half-pout and curved in a way that makes her seem to be smiling over some secret known to noone but her. Her eyes are large and expressive, the colour of the sky on a clear summer's day, glittering with innocense and often taking on a dreamy expression, as the young woman drifts off to some world of her own. Majestic wings protrude from the shoulders of her only 5'2 frame, delicate arches of purest white spanning a whole 20 feet when stretched out in their full length. They usually drag along the ground though, as if the slight Empyrean has forgotten the simple act of holding them up as her mind is occupied by, to her, more important matters. Smudges from paint and ink can usually be found decorating the fair skin of her face, as well as the cloth of her ankle-long chiton, which is of a fine cut, but slightly crumpled, as if not much mind is being payed to outer appearances. Ambriel looks over to Cepheus, a returned 'favor' no smile or nod, just curious what might have got him to look originally, oh it was Cyrano, eck, back to the Gabrielle and the Mongrel's improptu performance. Pu-abi glances up at the street addressing nearly anybody who comes close enough to hear her, "Dominus? Imphada? Domina? Please a moment?" Okay, Cyrano once saw the Archon encourage some one right to sleep, not that person didn't have it coming. He turns to the pleading girl and the fallen one, The Praetor approaches Gabrielle. "Can I help you Domina?" He offers, as he looks at her. Gabrielle continues her silent whining, also now starting to shake slightly where she lies, feathers rustling softly against the ground beneath. She doesn't seem to take much notice of the going-ons around her any longer. Cepheus smiles slightly, nodding to Ambriel as Cyrano slips away. "I'd suspect she has a few broken ribs..." He nods to her and begins to move toward the south. It does not take very long before the girl in red and blue and gold, the girl with the dog at her side, catches sight of the crowd gathered not fair from Atesh-Gah's gates. Beneath her veil, Faanshi's face drains of color, and the goods she had purchased in the marketplace slip out of her hands, along with the rope that had been serving as the lead for the puppy at her heels. This is all to the delight of the puppy, who promptly dives on a rolling loaf of bread by way of canine games. His mistress doesn't seem to notice, for her attention has riveted on Gabrielle... and those around her. "P-please...." she calls out softly. "What has happened? Is... is someone hurt?" Cepheus travels south toward the intersection of Fairway and North. Cepheus has left. Seeming to hesitate at the word Domina, it is Pu-abi who nevertheless answers softly, as she bows her head, "Please, Imphada, Dominus, the Domina here has a broken rib, I need something to bind it, so she may be moved." Ambriel The soft, ivory skin of her face radiates with warm glow. Her head is titled down, lush eyes usually scanning the ground or a scroll. Strands of alabaster hair spill over her face, around a long neck, tapering off past her shoulders. Full lips, a light shade of blushing beige. The face is neither too much nor too little of anything, while all facial structuring bones are seen, none are emphasized more then another, while lips are full but not large nor small. Her beauty is a hidden one, not outreaching, but powerful enough to draw attention, at least when she isn't looking. She is by no means petite for an Empryean, rather full bodied, some muscle tone, some sketchings of bones beneath, some flesh to gracefully soften. It takes little movement for the muscles along her back or broad shoulders to ripple, most likely from her large pair of alabaster wings upon her shoulder blades, layered with soft downfeathers, giving them a somewhat cloudy appearence. She wears a somewhat unconventional outfit of a white halter top, tied around the neck to hold it up, then around the back and in a knot beneath the breast. Below a set of solid abdominals, a flowing skirt starts, the width of the front and back are tactfully wide, though are not sewn together, revealing little nothing, it's tied with golden tassels. She wears little jewelry short of supremely smithed silver bracers with a mirror surface which go almost all the way up her elbows. As quetionable as the outfit is, it does not seem tasteless on her, rather fitting instead, maybe it's because she's not wearing it for reasons of attraction. Cyrano A broad shouldered Empyrean male apparently in his mid-to-late twenties. The crimson mane that flows to just past his shoulders is scattered with golden highlights. Smooth and aristocratic, chiseled and expressive, the face houses two aqua pools, the color the clear sea near a coral reef, that hold and express emotions beyond the control of the owner. Over all the features of his face look to be compassionate and solid, with smiles slightly mischievous is frowns tragic. Lines of his form are sculptured and tone, the muscles exercised and worked into a solid frame, with strong arms and a lean waist. Behind this form are the wings of an Empyrean long and powerful coated soft feather white and rippled with platinum hues, they add to his expressive continence by naturally positioning them selves for flare, when not at rest cloak-like upon him. His motions combine the training of court flare with the efficiency of military swiftness. He wears a white silk toga trimmed with gold glyphs and silver border. Framing a broad chest is the ebony black cuirass of the Praetorian Symbol at the center of which a reared golden hawk proudly marks his loyalties. Clasped to his shoulder iron clamps, baring the rank Ceterion, hold a silver chlamys, military cloak favored of Empyreans. A thick black belt secures a purse to his right and a rapier with an ornate hand guard to left. He dons gold sandals, and steel greaves with gold trimming. On his left hand index finger, he wears an iron signet ring set with a square blood red ruby in a griffin. Pu-abi Pu-abi is a short and petite woman, which may lead one to think her to be delicate. A touch of her arms, though, will reveal wiry muscles developed from years of menial labor. Dark black hair is pulled back from the sharp lines of the woman's tanned face, making the light blue eyes somewhat remarkable. A light, simple dress is bound at waist, and loose enough to allow for freedom of movement. Gabrielle opens her eyes for a moment, staring wide-eyed up at all the faces around her in an unfocused, foggy sort of way, hands all the while clutched to her mid-section, before squeezing them tightly shut once more. Her faint shaking continues all the while. Easy enough to do, Cyrano removes his sash and offers it to the Varati, not that the word Domina was intended for her, nope, he can be nice but not that nice to a Varati. "Here this should do the job, at least enough to get her to Delphi." The crimson haired warrior says as he looks at Gabrielle. His eyes go back to Ambriel watching her carefully, okay she is alright back to the wounded girl. Ambriel takes a few steps forward, following Cyrano somewhat as he goes to the mongrel girl, hmph, she'll probably end up as a whore at the Siren song, most mongrel woman with little apparent future seem to drift there sooner or later, a smirk at the thought of this, another glance to the mongrel then her boy scout pseudo mate. "Careful not to get it dirty.." she airily adds. What? It's a nice sash! Someone _is_ hurt. Not that Faanshi needs, really, to be told -- not when she's come within easy earshot of the wounded Empyrean woman, not when a flare of unseen fire is surging up along her palms and setting off focused spikes of pain in the ears hidden beneath her hair, hidden beneath the protective blue cloth of her sari. Suddenly and acutely aware that she is within the range of the stern and watchful gazes of the Agni-Haidar who keep watch on the gates of Atesh-Gah, the young shudra girl stumbles as close to Gabrielle as she dares, her hands beginning to shake with the force of the aether beginning to swirl unseen around her slender golden fingers. Even as Cyrano and Ambriel seem to be trying to do their best to tend to the injured one, she wails out softly, "Please... I can help... if I may be permitted... please?" Pu-abi reaches out for the sash, and begins to fumble with it as she tries to decide the best way to get it around Gabrielle's chest without having it get in the way of the wings. Then another voice catches her ear, and the Mongrel woman glances up to Faanshi, beginning to back away a little as she offers up the sash to her, "The rib...needs to be bound." the Mongrel repeats again, and if saying it was enough to make it so, the rib would have been wrapped up several times over by now. Gabrielle doesn't really pay any attention to anything other than the pain that seems to be eating up her side. But even the pain seems to be fading somewhat now, as the frail woman slowly drifts closer and closer to the edge of unconcsiousness. A Varati healer? Oh right trust her to touch a downed Empyrean, sure, not. He looks over the Faanshi, appraising her carefully. "What are you going to do?" He inquires of the young Varati, after all size is nothing to a mage, magic is hard to judge and Varati are hard to trust. Cyrano bends down over Gabrielle, taking back the sash to gentlely bind the ribs. He drops down to a knee be side the girl to work. Pu-abi perhaps can catch a glimpse of green eyes in a golden-skinned face, over the top of Faanshi's silken veil. Those leaf-colored orbs appear to have gone nearly black with what looks like barely suppressed pain, and for all that most of her features are hidden behind that gauzy blue curtain, Faanshi's stiff bearing... and those stricken eyes... silently but vividly suggest that this slim figure has just been dealt some kind of agonizing blow. She seems entirely oblivious to the sash that the Mongrel holds out, as she crumples to her knees as close to Gabrielle's prone form as it's possible for her to get. "Please," she whispers towards Cyrano in oddly desperate tones, "Please forgive me... but... I... I can help her, if... if you would just allow me to touch her, please, imphadi..." Pu-abi begins to back away, stretching out sore muscles as she stands slowly. She glances at the scene once again, out of her hands now, and then up to the sky, with a slight hardening of the lines around her eyes as she notices the height of the sun. "Help her then, she needs it but, do not try anything wrong." He says to the Varati healer as he backs away from the girl. Yrf? The puppy, distracted from his assault on the bread by the odd behavior of the girl in the blue veil, lifts up a crumb-encrusted snout and peers over inquiringly at Faanshi's kneeling, rigid form. To her canine companion, as she'd been to Pu-abi's sash, the maiden in Varati garments seems oblivious. She holds herself frozen, though shaking vehemently, until the male Empyrean gives his grudging leave. When this happens, a groan that sounds as though it should be coming from the wounded one rather than this newcomer escapes her. And her slender golden hands descend, making contact with Gabrielle's supine form. The aether suddenly flares. To those who can sense such things, it is like unto a small bolt of lightning, unsubtle, swift, and strong. Magic surges up from somewhere within Faanshi and tracks down and into the fallen Empyrean, a wild thing turned loose on the hunt for pain and hurt, instinctively and unthinkingly setting it Right because it knows nothing else in its existence. And nor does it care if the mending of abused bone and flesh is done with delicacy; it only works to accomplish its goal. Ilex arrives from the south. Ilex has arrived. Ilex ventures beyond the city's walls and onto the road leading north. Ilex has left. Faanshi's eyes slam shut as her magic roars out to do its job, and sweat beads what little is visible of her face, dampening the veil she wears and making it cling to the contours of her cheeks and jaw. Trying to guide that fractious power is, for this slender maiden, like trying to ride an untamed wyvern... and she has only the barest idea of what _that_ is like, for only a time or two has she been permitted to ride a tamed one. With urgent desperation she retains enough of a hold on her power to keep it from doing more than it should... or so she hopes. Only when something seems to click within her battered awareness does she abruptly jerk her hands off the winged woman, scrabbling unsteadily backwards from her, rising just as unsteadily to her feet. "F-forgive me," she whispers hoarsely, though to whom is unclear. Before anyone surrounding the injured Empyrean can detain her, she breaks into a run, dashing for the gates of Atesh-Gah, looking dangerously unstable on her feet as she bolts away. You pass between the heavy stone pillars that flank the entrance to Atesh-Gah, and enter the famed embassy of the Varati people. Courtyard - Atesh-Gah - Haven(#430RJM) If indeed the Hebrew folk of lost Earth are correct in their legends, then this must be the legendary garden from which mankind was expelled. The flat expanse of the great courtyard of Atesh-Gah is covered in the most luxurious grass of bright emerald green, broken only by a cobblestone path for riding and walking to prevent wear upon the lawn. Rich copses of carefully tended wood grow by the walls, lovingly groomed flower gardens acting as a barrier of colour before the rising trees. Perhaps even more relaxing than the sight of the yard are the sensations of it. The lovely scents of flower and tree; honey-suckle, apple blossom, peach, and jasmine; combine with the soft cushion of green grass to provide a sense of peace and harmony that defies the looming sand-hued walls of unbreakable stone. Not even the shadowed maw of the main gate, nor the blocky, unimpressive presence of the impenetrable main keep can overshadow the beauty of this place. Indeed, the stark contrast serves only to enhance it. Obvious exits: Fountain Out Entrance Foyer Stables Sevilen enters from the carefully tended bushes which conceal the sight of a gurgling fountain. Sevilen has arrived. Sevilen picks his way carefully along the path from the fountain, emerald gaze sweeping about his path and environment. Now, a puppy only a few months old is not a creature with a large number of experiences to give it learning. However, in the short time Kosha has come to be acquainted with the Nice One, with the soothing hands and the gentle voice and the fascinating soft thing that hides her face from his determined attempts to lick her cheek, this small dog has learned how to tell when Faanshi is not in good shape. This is one of those times. Shaken, staggering, the girl has stumbled into Atesh-Gah from the streets of Haven, and it is with eyes turned dark and nearly unseeing over her veil that she tries to stumble towards the doors into the mighty main hall. Beside her, the small fluffy puppy Kosha scampers anxiously, letting off periodic whines and pleading for reassurance. If Sevilen does hesitate, it is for the scantest of moments that only the most perceptive can percieve. With an easy, graceful pace, he moves to the ailing halfbreed. Though the possible broach of etiquette could be debated at length, he moves to lay hands upon the woman without request or invitation, to help steady her in her path, and support her weight with his own strength. The little dog is the first to respond, letting out a noise somewhere between a yelp and a growl, unsure whether this stranger is here to help or harm his new mistress. Kosha's particolored fur bristles up with the force of his anxiety, and he is not long caught by indecision; he promptly launches himself at Sevilen's ankle, trying to do his doggy best to fend off this apparent intruder. _That_ rouses Faanshi at the same time that she senses hands upon her, and the shudra girl jerks violently, hands batting blindly at the figure that has come upon her before she realizes... she should not touch him. And so, swaying on her feet, she gasps out hoarsely instead, "P-please... please release me..." Sevilen's manner is as calm as ever. He releases the woman, after making sure to steady her as best he can. His knees bend a bit as he moves to scoop up the likely to be distracted puppy. He speaks, voice soft, "I did not wish to see you fall, or hurt. Is not the surah of Compassion welcome to you?" A man... ohhhh, Ushas. Faanshi thinks dimly that the voice sounds familiar, but for the life of her, at the moment she cannot think to place it. Nor does she dare to lift her gaze to catch a glimpse of the face of this male who has apparently come to her aid. She does, however, look up enough to focus blearily upon Kosha, who yelps indignantly as he is hoisted up off the ground and wriggles around in Sevilen's grasp, trying to sink his teeth into the young man's sleeve. "N-nooo," the girl groans then, stretching out shaking hands for the little creature. "N... naughty puppy... stop... stop..." And she steps forward, only to sway alarmingly where she stands. Sevilen Slight of frame(for Varati), Sevilen stands at perhaps five foot ten inches tall. His black hair is bound back and tied behind his head, though it's length falls over his shoulders and back. Eyes of a startling emerald green look out from a lean face, with graceful cheekbones and slim jaw. At rest, his lips quirk slightly, giving him something of a permanent muse. The slender bent continues to finish out his body, with slight shoulders and long, lean arms and legs. His hands are light, and fingers nimble. When he speaks, his voice is a soft, silvery tenor, with gentle timbre. He wears a long tunic of a creamy tan color, with a haik and silwar of an earthy brown, trimmed with intricate designs in glittering gold thread. Functional, sturdy sandals protect his feet. Sevilen's unmistakably bright eyes remain on the failing shudra, unblinking. He is cautious with the puppy, but moreso with the other, reaching out his free hand to once again support her form, especially if she should fall back. The puppy is carefully offered to the seeking hands, apparently with indifference to the tiny teeth the creature wields, thought they find flesh and sleeve easily enough. Sevilen looks at you for a moment. Kosha growls tinily, getting himself into quite the awkward position by sinking his young canine fangs into the flesh of the forearm holding him secure. His front paws wrap themselves around Sevilen's arm as well, and those teeth, while small, make it through cloth and scratch the skin beneath. Grr! But when cloth rips, Faanshi jolts, a tremor of some kind passing through her form. Her hands reach out... but not for the dog, or at least so it seems for a moment. She lets out a tiny, choked little whimper, before those fumbling fingers close about Kosha's wriggling form and clasp him to her breast. And with that, as the pup whines his dismay at being detached from his prey, the girl begins to sink to her knees. Sevilen moves slightly, to support the woman, but before he lends his arms, his voice issues to her, with concern, "I would help you stand...?" A question, of sorts, and a statement. Perhaps the sound of the whimper, or the frailness of her motions, has touched off something, for his attitude begins to soften from his usual implacable self. Kosha settles down when Faanshi gets her arms around him, and immediately tries to stick his nose under her veil, whining piteously. Now that she has the dog clutched desperately close, as though the little animal were some sort of protective talisman, the young shudra seems to have very little awareness to spare for anything else. The soft voice near her reaches her as if from a distance, and it seems to her that something is amiss with the request she thinks she heard its owner utter. He is not shudra. She should not be showing her weakness before him, should she? "I will be alright," she tries to mumble. What actually comes out, however, is "I will... I... if I could only sit down, imphadi..." It is without ado, and indeed, with a minimum of notice or fuss that Sevilen moves then, to guide and assist the weakened figure to one of the many benches. Once seated, he disengages, his presence obviously a source of discomofrt or even pain, perhaps, to her. There is still a storm of aether in her blood, and the aftershocks of what her magic did to the wounded Empyrean in the street are still commanding half of Faanshi's senses. Echoes of pain resonate through her awareness... and when the young Varati's hands once more make contact with her, even tiny, negligent pain throws out ripples through those echoes. Another of those strange little whimpers escapes her, and even as he sets her down upon the bench, one of her slim golden hands slips off the form of the puppy to grasp, with surprising strength, the forearm which her little companion had tried to maul. Puppy-scratched cloth cannot respond to her... but the skin beneath can. For a moment, it does, and for the second time in less than an hour for Faanshi, that fractious power within her sparks up into life. This time it is far less potent, almost momentary, but the brief surge of sensation under the damaged sleeve is unmistakable. A instant later it fades, and Faanshi's hand goes slack, falling down heavily from the wrist it had grasped. Sevilen does not resist when grasped, but the slightest of frowns escapes him momentarily. Instead of quick retreat as he had planned, he hovers nearby, in case the effort should prove to further weaken the shudra. And, while he does not watch the puppy directly, his eyes take in the motions of the young canine, in case it should once again decide to hunt large, calm prey. Kosha, as it happens, has apparently dismissed the other biped as inconsquential. As Faanshi's hand goes limp, so does the rest of her, and the puppy yowls plaintively, burrowing his nose even farther under her veil and trying to lick her chin. Sevilen moves swiftly to support the fainted woman, his hands moving to suppert her head in their gentle manner as he takes a seat on the bench beside her. Regardless of appearances, he seems intent on his task, moving to turn the woman so she lays back into his hands, rather than off the bench into the ground. Well, all right, so a moment ago Sevilen was inconsquential. Now Sevilen is trying to do incomprehensible things with his mistress again, and Kosha tumbles off the shudra's slack form as she is shifted. The puppy hits the ground, and wobbles to his feet, looking rather startled by this turn of events. Faanshi, in the meantime, moans. Once the woman is safely nestled, Sevilen frees one hand to replace the puppy onto it's mistress, apparently unable or unwilling to leave the confused animal in that state. His attentions returns to her recovery, though he is careful to avoid the little jaws of the protective canine this time. Bemusedly, Kosha yips as he is scooped up, and he wriggles violently for a moment or two before Sevilen redeems himself by placing him once more in Faanshi's lap. Or, rather, on his mistress's now supine form, which is close enough. The puppy once more determinedly burrows his nose -- and a good bit of the rest of him, for that matter -- under her now rumpled veil, somehow managing to tug enough of it free to free up a suitable portion of her cheek and jaw for a judicious dose of what he perceives to be suitable healing, canine style: a vigorous licking of her face. Whether it is Kosha's attentions or the ebbing of the storm of power that had roiled up within her, Faanshi soon begins to stir again, her eyes squeezing involuntarily further shut. A confused little noise escapes her, as it seems to her that she is in a very odd position at the moment. Is that naughty puppy trying to get under her veil again? And... isn't this an odd pillow she seems to have found? A smile touches Sevilen's lips at the behavior of the puppy. His eyes move so as not to see that which is to be hidden, though the rest of him is as still as stone, though a great sight softer and warmer. He blinks once, slowly, eyes focusing on some point in the impercievable distance. He speaks not, content merely to breathe and offer whatever comfort he can. It does not occur to Faanshi that the usual question one asks when recovering from a swoon is a trite one. Accordingly, the first thing she manages to murmur is a confused, "Where am I?"; the second, a feeble, "Stop that, Kosha..." The puppy, set upon his face-licking errand, does not obey her. Sevilen remains utterly still, passing the opportunity to answer, perhaps fearing the woman would once gaain try to move away and perhaps hurt herself this time. He bites back any words rushing forth to his lips, instead letting his gaze wander down once more to see the expression behind the voice. Her eyes... they're green. But large, and as they flicker open, at the sound of her voice, they can also be seen to be dazed. But clarity begins to trickle back into them, even as it begins to register that... oh, Ushas, is she where she thinks she is? Clarity gives way to consternation, and far too swiftly for a young woman who's just gone faint, she tries to sit bolt up right, saving poor Kosha from tumbling groundward again only by virtue of her instinctive wrapping of her arms about the wriggly, lop-eared creature. Sevilen is gentle in surrendering, though he moves to the woman's shoulders, fairly certain that sitting up as suddenly will bring yet another wave if dizziness as her head rushes. He still does not speak, whether from being startled or from being cautious, it is difficult to tell. Kosha has slid out from under Faanshi's veil, and that swath of gauzy blue stuff as a result falls more or less back into place, but it is still enough askew that its state adds to Faanshi's general consternation. "F-forgive me, imphadi," she babbles in a breathless whisper, "I... I did not mean to faint... I will get up now... forgive me... forgive me...!" Sevilen shakes his head, speaking softly. "No. I would not wish you to regain your feet until you can do so safely. It is no fault of your own, and I would not have you apologize to me of it." Dismay washes across the maiden's veiled face, and she does her best to try to keep her gaze averted. Caught between the strict training of her breeding not to contradict a man and the great leaden weariness beginning to suffuse her slender frame, she cannot bring herself to speak for a few moments, but honor finally compels her to breathe anxiously, "But... but I am shudra, imphadi, and... halfbreed... you should not... please... let me up...." Sevilen's voice comes softly, as if of it's own accord, so still his lips. "You feel pain, do you not? I sense it, though not as keenly as you do. And my motives are no more noble than your own; for it distresses me to see you in such state. Please, lie still." "I... the pain is gone, I healed the woman..." Faanshi's voice catches, then, and she fumbles unseeingly for some kind of support to help her to sit up. Her hand finds Sevilen rather than the bench upon which they are both located, and her fingers dart away as though she'd inadvertantly reached for a candle-flame. The puppy, still hugged close under Faanshi's other arm, whines plaintively. "I... will be all right, imphadi, d-do not worry for such as I..." Sevilen speaks gently. "I worry, nonetheless. You walk under the gaze of greatness, though you see it not. In time, for me to say that you had shown me a kindness would be a credit to me in this life. Please, allow me to exercise my wishes, and assist you.." Supported as she is by Sevilen, it is very difficult for Faanshi to keep her face averted from him; the result of her trying means mostly that she has practically buried her veiled countenance against the puppy. Her slight frame goes still as the young Varati speaks, and when she manages to find her voice again, it has gone even weaker with what may well be surprise. "As... as you wish, imphadi," she whispers timidly. Sevilens eyes close, and his head bows a bit. He speaks softly, as gently as he can, as if your head rested upon his words. "Thank you. I wish you to rest without fear, and leave me be your strength this moment." Faanshi curls both her arms around the dog once more, resting there obediently enough at Sevilen's request, but apparently she cannot quite succeed at fulfilling every aspect of what he's asked -- her frame is still taut with tension, her shoulders subtly quivering. Kosha whimpers faintly, reacting to the small tremors that pass through the maiden. Faanshi's voice is barely louder than that of the puppy as she murmurs, "Y-yes, imphadi..." Sevilen sighs softly, perhaps a surrender. "Can you trust my eyes, frightened one? One cannot lie in the eyes." His own emerald gaze, so unusual amongst the Varati, turns to regard her, in the hope that she may perhaps try to regard him in that different light. That softly uttered question seems to strike Faanshi deeply somehow, as the tremors cease, leaving her very still, though as of yet tense of frame. Slowly, her gaze lifts itself up from the fluffy-furred small dog she clasps to her breast, the frightened gaze that same dog might have if he were confronting someone who had been beating him and might be about to again. The shudra stops, however, once her eyes find the chin of the young man who supports her, for she doesn't dare to make herself look any higher than that. Sevilen holds utterly still, his hands warm and gentle. His breath barely brushes the girl, and he refrains from further comment, not wanting to jeaopardize the fragile peace that he has struggled for so far. Fragile, indeed. She is slight, this maiden, slighter than one would expect a Varati girl to be, less of a weight than one might expect in the arms that brace her up. But Faanshi's frame remains subtly tense, fright darkening the green of her eyes, and she utters no word to break the silence of the young man who has chosen to succor her. The puppy has no such compunctions, and lets out a small baffled 'whuff' at the odd situation he senses between the two young people. Sevilen cannot help but smile for a moment, and move one hand, ever so slowly, to offer the puppy something to smell. No fear or malice in his scent, just the light fragrance of something flowering and his natural scent. His attention diverts from the slight girl, though his support remains unwavering. Kosha flicks an ear, considering this proferred hand intently; that proferred hand has to come near his mistress's chin to get within easy range of his nose, and the pup's not entirely convinced he likes that idea. He does give an inquiring sniff or two to those brown fingers, but the moment they come too near to Faanshi's veiled visage, he lets out another sharp little 'whuff'. And Faanshi, eyes closed now, her slender form still taut with nervousness, whispers out, "I must beg you, imphadi... permit me to rise..." Sevilen speaks softly. "Can you rise, surely?" His gentle inquiry comes before his hand removes itself to support the girl once more. As far as Faanshi is concerned, she really doesn't see much of a choice in the matter -- after all, what business does she have allowing this man to clasp her in so familiarly a manner? And thus, though it costs her much effort and strength to do so, she makes herself sit up as best she can while minimizing the contact she must make with her self-appointed benefactor. "I will stand," she murmurs, determined to do so if it should mean her death right here and now. Sevilen sighs softly, surrendering at last, hands removing themselves to his sides. "Again I know the sting of failure, as surely as if by weapon upon the field of contest." He watches the girl rise, emerald gaze unblinking. "F-failure, imphadi?" The words come out of the maiden a trifle breathless. She makes it to her feet, though her acquaintance with a vertical position, especially with the puppy cradled in her arms, seems tenuous at best. She merely stands there for a few moments, blinking owlishly over the top of her veil, trying to convince herself that standing, as the prelude to actually _walking_, is a good idea. And in the meantime, her head turns slightly towards the young man, though she still does not meet his gaze. With a gentle nod, Sevilen confirms the question. "Yes. Failure, in the light of sense and understanding. To keep you from further harm, and to offer you even a fraction of the comfort you offer another. To know for a moment understanding without fear or derision." Even at the best of times, Faanshi sometimes can't make sense of what someone says to her -- such is the lot of one whose history of contact with most other living beings has spanned only a short handful of months out of her entire life. And this is not the best of times. Clinging to Kosha, who takes the opportunity to drape his front paws over her shoulder and nudge his nose in behind her veil once more, the girl blinks a few more times and struggles to figure out something of what this young man has uttered to her. One thing does make it through the fog of exhaustion layered across her mind, though. Earnestly she whispers, "You have been very kind to me and Kosha, imphadi... thank you... the Amir-al and his Holy Mother will smile upon you. I should... go lay down now...." Sevilen inclines his head. "Yes, you should. If you cannot climb the stairs, I will request assistance for you." He pauses, after blurting out. "I have only done as my heart and conscience commands. Who among us would be favored of Him if we did not?" He rises seamlessly, like smoke from a fire, and presses his hands together before himself. She _will_ climb the stairs... for in this, too, Faanshi sees no other real choice in the matter. And at any rate, the surah of Self-Reliance, she tells herself in the back of her tired thoughts, dictates that she make it to her little cot in Kiera's room under her own power. All she can think of to say, however, is a hoarsely whispered "Namaste'..." -- by way of thank you and agreement. Her hands and arms are full of puppy, and so she cannot necessarily clasp them before her, but the maiden does drop as much of a curtsey as her uncertain equilibrium can allow. And she adds equally softly, "Th-thank you again, imphadi..." With that, she turns to begin the laborious trek from the courtyard in which she stands to Kiera's suite within the citadel. Sevilen opts no longer to contest the girl's actions or wishes, but merely watches closely, his unblinking eyes keenly observing for trouble. His body is still, though he does nod in welcome to her quiet thanks. Slight she may be... and trembling as though she might blow over in the next strong breeze... but Faanshi and her little dog make it through the doors that lead into the entrance foyer. Their departure is slow, but it does occur, and soon, the maiden and the puppy are out of sight. [End log.]