"A Third Chance Encounter" Log Date: 7/20/99 Log Cast: SilverFox, Soft-Feather, ShadowWatcher, Faanshi, Teliko Log Intro: For the past many days, the old city gardens have proven Faanshi's retreat of choice when duty does not keep her within Atesh-Gah -- and when she needs a rest from the tentative efforts she's begun in creeping around Haven at night to try to find people who need her healing magic and who do not mind their assistance coming from a halfbreed. On the whole the girl has been left to her own devices, and that is exactly how she likes it, for she can quietly study for herself how plants behave in the winter... how snow falls... and a number of other tiny little details about nature she's never had the luxury to learn before. But every so often her peace in the gardens has been disturbed, with encounters ranging from the Shakir of Clan Al'Samar to a grubby young Mongrel thief... and every so often, the Sylvans of the city cut through the area as well, inexorably drawn there by the greenery that holds sway in the midst of all the stone and slate and wood. And every so often, an occasional Atlantean finds her way there as well... ---------- SilverFox arrives from the shady path to the west. SilverFox has arrived. Soft-Feather arrives from the shady path to the west. Soft-Feather has arrived. ShadowWatcher arrives from the shady path to the west. ShadowWatcher has arrived. SilverFox leads the trio of Sylvans through the streets of Haven with practiced ease. His trips to Rialto have been very numerous, though the time between his returns steadily increase in length. He nods to passers-by as he trudges onward. Following SilverFox and Soft-Feather, ShadowWatcher nod as he look around. "Yes, I've slept here a few times myself too." Soft-Feather walks slowly along the street, following his companions. He wears a smile, but his eyes nervously dart about. He smiles to those he passes and continues on. One girl clad as the Varati generally are is fairly dismissable -- though Faanshi, resting sore feet on one of the benches that line the paths, glances up in bemusement as the Sylvans go by. Green eyes track their passage, but only when they're not looking, and the dog at her feet yips softly at the sight of them as they pass. It's cold out here- well, perhaps not as cold as it has been on past days when sleet fell in such chill waves from the sky, but cold enough to make it somewhat uncomfortable for the majority of the races. Not the Atlanteans, though. Being accustomed to the waters of the oceans, they take cold suprisingly well. Teliko is living proof of this, dressed as she is in her traditional, iridescently green-blue sarong, glossy black hair caught up into a topknot. The fisher and carver, it seems, has been sleeping in the garden like so many other misplaced Sylvans and the odd homeless citizen. Her eyes flutter open, flickering with tints of the ocean as they catch the errant rays of moonlight. /What have I been doing here?/ she puzzles silently, moving from her supine position on grass kept amazingly green in the winter to a more comfortable seat on her rump. A quick scan of who's here- at least who she can make out in this darkness. SilverFox treks east to the crossing of Main and Border. SilverFox has left. ShadowWatcher treks east to the crossing of Main and Border. ShadowWatcher has left. Soft-Feather treks east to the crossing of Main and Border. Soft-Feather has left. "Shhhh, Kosha, hush now," Faanshi murmurs, very softly, once the Sylvans have gone. Only when they have vanished off to the east, however, does she return a distant, musing gaze down to her canine companion. "None of them were StormBearer, but perhaps they were his people... hush now." A Varati maiden who talks to dogs? Stranger things have happened, and the dog doesn't seem to mind. Though he can't exactly be called little -- he's too big for a lapdog and his oversized feet and ears speak of more growing yet to occur -- still there's something engagingly puppyish about the creature, and he yips again at the quiet sound of the voice of the girl in red and blue and gold. Now where's that yipping coming from? Teliko peers from shrub to tree to somnolent Sylvan and still doesn't catch it. Granted, her eyes aren't as good in the dark as in the light of the sun, but the sound at least should give it away. Her onyx brows furrow in question as she considers the last section of the park in general view she's not already considered. Yes..Undoubtedly from that way. She stands, and brushes off grass clippings from her singularly Atlantean garments before moving with the uncannily liquid grace of her folk. Pinkish gills at her neck flare as if to 'taste' the air around them, then close as quickly when that air proves to be just a bit too chilly to readily accept. Teliko clears the grassy park standing between her makeshift sleeping arrangements and the little yappy sound, and with a hunter's gaze, looks through the stand of hortensial bushes seperating her from the two. There, on that bench: a largish young dog, with fluffy, multi-colored fur and a plume of a tail that promises to be magnificent when he reaches his full growth. That tail is currently eagerly wagging at the figure leaning over him, a figure mostly shrouded in the dark blue voluminous cloth of a sari, save for the silken veil that conceals half the face. Hands are in view, though, slender golden hands that stroke the dog's head with much affection. "Shhh now, Kosha. Good dog. Good Kosha. Shhhh..." Silently as a shark cruises amid its watery feeding-grounds, Teliko maneuvers around the hedges to where a small path has either been cut away by some beneficient gardener or formed in an unplanned way by decades of forced ingress and egress through the shrubbery. She's very careful not to catch the edge of her sarong on jutting branches or twigs- which would certainly make a sound to announce her presence. In addition to the lapis and verde hues already mixing and swirling in the cloth, a sheen of silver has fallen over it due to the moonlight, making it perhaps the brightest object in the gardens and visible to just about anyone who is looking that way. So much for stealth. The fisher moves to stand perhaps ten yards away from the shudra and her canine friend, casually crossing her arms over her chest. "Blessings of pure water." she greets quietly, inobtrusively, as if to gauge the girl's response before saying anything more. Teliko Delicate, almost slanted aquamarine eyes peer out of Teliko's deep golden brow. The young Atlantean's heart-shaped face is almost childlike, with round cheeks and guileless features. Sleek sable tresses cascade then are caught at the nape of her neck with a elaborately carved ring of pink shell, then fall once more to the small of her back, bound in three other rings as it falls. A wide strip of vibrant lapis cloth is bound around her ribs, shimmering with the occasional streak of jade. In coloration, it is not unlike the ocean itself, rippling in the sunlight. It extends to just about the bottom of her ribcage, revealing smooth, sun-bronzed flesh below. Her arms and shoulders are left bare, aside from the numerous coral bracelets and armbands tinkling together as she moves. Around her waist, a simple sarong of the same green-blue cloth is expertly tied, permitting her just enough extra cloth to move with ease on land. On her feet, she wears a simple pair of sandals. If one looks closely, they might see a small fin-ridge on her lower back, as well as feathery webbing on the backs of her ankles and wrists, as well as between her slender fingers. A soft gasp; at the same time, a shift in attitude from the young hound, who snaps his head around and brings his ears up into an unmistakable posture of alertness. "Stay, Kosha!" comes the murmured order from the girl on the bench; then, a furtive peek of the green gaze over the veil, towards the newcomer. The head covered by blue sari bobs then, politely, while one hand remains upon the neck of the dog. And then the maiden on the bench appends, not knowing if there is a proper reply to this apparent Atlantean greeting, but proceeding half on instinct, "And to you..." Proper or not, it is obviously acceptable by the other nocturnal visitor to the public gardens. Seeing the blue-clad lass to not be outright hostile, Teliko moves a bit closer to the two, taking about five or so steps forward. Then, she falls to a crouch, sarong rippling around her slender yet muscular legs to pool around her ankles with the fluidity of silk. Her intent becomes obvious as she peers closely at the small dog through the veil of wisps of hair such a deep shade of kelp as to be indistinguishable in this muted light from black, except vaguely in the brightest shifting highligts cast onto the very crown of her topknot. "Cute little dog you got here." she comments amiably, not seeming to give much of any consideration to the fact that its owner is, for all appearances, Varati. "You say his name is Kosha?" The half-grown puppy's big pointed ears perk up a bit in response to this stranger's voice uttering that magic word, his word, his name-word. Alert dark eyes, still focused on the stranger, take on a bit of curiosity as it becomes evident that this newcomer is not about to do something untoward to his mistress. Another yip escapes him. The girl on the bench, in the meantime, inclines her blue-shrouded head, once. "Yes... Kosha. He keeps me company in the city," is her soft reply. Would that she had gone fishing already this morning rather than sleeping late (well, for her at least) in the city, Teliko might have offered the inquisitive little bundle of yaps and fuzz and big, glittering eyes an oceanic treat. But she hasn't, nor has she even a scrap of dried fish with her- or does she? Though it might be lost amid the myriad drapes and ripples of her sarong, there is a small pocket sewn as to be invisible to the casual observer- but not to the wearer. Talifa must have packed some sort of snack for her elder daughter which she forgot about..True to her thoughts, there indeed is a packet wrapped in slick, green seaweed which has been waiting for her. Salted fish, nothing special, is what it proves to be when she removes the wrapping. It's gotten a bit crushed and crumbled, making it an unappealing meal for an Atlantean..But would a dog like it? First, though, she asks, "Think he'd like some fish?" Must be those 'puppy-dog eyes' that entice Teli' wish to give up her finger-sized bundle of fish. The air stands quiescent for a moment, without the faintest breeze. Then, unexpectedly, clouds drift across the indigo bowl of the sky and deliver an unexpected burden upon the city: rain. /Cold/ rain. Oh no! Kosha whines at the sudden downpour, and the maiden in the Varati garments tugs her sari a bit closer about her. One advantage, at any rate, to the fashions of the Children of Fire -- there's a lot of cloth between the wearer and the elements, at least if the wearer happens to be female. The puppy, however, is not quite so fortunate and whimpers his dismay at being rained upon to both the young women... but wait. What's that? Food? "He is a growing puppy," murmurs the maiden in blue, "and always hungry..." For all that Varati raiment may protect the being beneath, the Children of Water still have the distinct advantage of being- quite literally- in their element during rainstorms. Teliko's gills open once more as streams and rivulets of the icy water run down from her forehead to her jawline. Her hair slicks about her back, a few strands plastering themselves to her bronzed forehead. At least the rain might serve to reconstitute the desicated foodstuff a bit. "Well, then he can have this fish here. It's dry and salty. I don't know if dogs like it, but we can see." She smiles despite the drop of water that teeters precariously off the tip of her nose, threatening to fall to the ground and seaweed-wrapped fish. Before it can, however, she sets the food at arm's length on the ground, then sits back, waiting to see the puppy's reaction to the odd stuff. Fascinated, for she has never been so close to an Atlantean -- at least, not one that wasn't about to die -- Faanshi peeks in wonder at the gills that respond to the water falling from the sky. Kosha, in the meantime, edges forward to eye the stuff Teliko offers him, senses pricking up: what's that? Yes, that! Food? Is it food? The pup apparently decides in favor of the food verdict, after a few inquiring sniffs that tell him there's something meat-related in there, for he begins to gnaw and nip at the seaweed. Mm..Seaweed. It has a decidedly salty tang to it, and an equally distinctive texture. Almost like the underbelly of a slug after a cool, spring rain. As the pup tests the seaweed, Teliko observes him. She's dealt with dogs before- but those were always the nasty sort that race through the Rialto for the sole reason of driving away business and defiling her fresh-caught merchandise with their copious drool and acrid breath. But this one seems different. Perhaps it is the fact that he's just a little bumble at this point in time and it takes a heart of stone to deny the charms of a baby. Teliko is nothing if not friendly to a fault, so she holds no prejudice against either dog or owner. "Where'd you get him from?" she asks, raising her green-blue regard from the canine. "I've only seen those full-grown ones with the ragged coats and crazy eyes. This one certainly isn't one of them!" Her silvery, delicate twitter of a voice is kept at a level as to not awaken the sleepers or disturb the puppy's exploration of the gift of food. Seaweed, huh? Well, Kosha, being a carnivore, admits the presence of the green stuff only in so much as it is a barrier to surmount to get at the actual interesting-smelling stuff underneath it. Once he discovers the object of his quest -- a-ha! fish! -- the little fellow begins vigorously nibbling up the stuff. In the meantime, the quiet maiden who seems to be his mistress murmurs, "The keeper of the kennels in Atesh-Gah allowed me to keep him... because he was small and sickly when he was born... and I took care of him." The rain continues to shower its chill drops onto the fisher, shudra and puppy alike, never relenting nor even pausing for a scarce moment. Undaunted by the sky's continual delivery of icy rain, Teliko glances for a moment at the ravenous dog- long enough to consider the seemingly immaculate pelt and vibrant health. "He? A little scrawny thing?" Deep green-black brows arch at this seeming paradox. "But he's so...Alive! Look at him! He gobbles up the salty fish like it was mother's cuttlefish stew!" 'Mother's cuttlefish stew'? Must be an Atlantean colloquialism for the most delectable taste-treat of them all, though the gods know why stewed cuttlefish would be so much to crow over. It is difficult to tell with the veil that hides half her face, but something in Faanshi's demeanor seems to soften a little. "I was... very lucky in taking care of him," she allows. "And although he is a dog, he has the spirit of a kshatri." Or, at any rate, the appetite of a healthy puppy. Kosha practically inhales the fish, licking up the final few tidbits of the salty flesh from the seaweed that had cocooned it, and spluttering a little as he gets some of the green stuff caught in his sharp teeth. Kshatri. Teliko is unfamiliar enough with the various confusing ranks and regiments of Varati society to be blissfully unaware of her meaning- that he has the tenacity and drive of one of the feared Varati warriors that so crushed the Praetorians like so many white-quilled insects. Then again, she made her cuttlefish stew references, so the shudra is entitled to her Varati terminology. "Heh. He certainly liked that fish I offered. Does he get enough to eat otherwise?" She reaches out a tentative, slender hand to take back the bit of seaweed, but stops short, asking, "Would he let me touch him, or is he afraid of strangers? Last thing I want is a bite that would bleed and attract sharks." No mention that there are no sharks here in the garden, but old habits die hard. The puppy looks up again as there appears to be no more of the interesting-smelling foodstuffs forthcoming, one ear perked, the other flopping along his skull. Something like intelligence glimmers in those brown eyes, as if the little fellow senses he's being talked about, enough to give at least a bit of credence to the praise of the veiled maiden. His gaze fixes alertly on the proferred hand, but he makes no move toward it, not until his mistress murmurs distinctly, "Safe, Kosha. Safe." Then, he hops forward, yielding to puppyish curiosity, not to mention gratitude for having being fed, and his tail starts to wag as he regards the Atlantean before him. Behind him, the veiled one appends, "He gets enough... and he has begun to learn to hunt." "What does a little dog like him hunt?" the Atlantean asks as she extends the same hand once more- this time, though, in the name of friendliness to the energetic pup. Not sure of the correct protocol for introducing oneself to a dog such as this, she decides upon the shortest, bluntest route known: she places her hand atop his head and gives him a vigorous skritching at the bases of his ears. To the east, the sun has just begun to consider rising from its sleep beyond the horizon. The faintest tinges of violet begin to veil the few visible stars, who try their best to remain brilliant despite the challenging first-light rays. The moon is but a vague glow behind the westerly clouds, providing precious little light. Unabated, the rain still falls. "He's very vigorous for one who you said was little and sick." she comments with admiration. "How in Pasiphae's sweet name did you get him to be like this?" "Mice, I think... though I am told he may hunt squirrels and such as he grows bigger," answers the apparent Varati. As the light struggles against the downpour, Faanshi's face remains mostly hidden by the veil and the sari that now does extra duty as her hood. In the meantime, apparently mollified about the soaking his fur is receiving by the simple fact that he is being scritched, Kosha wags his tail with mounting enthusiasm, his little pink tongue now lolling out of his open mouth. While he joyously receives this attention, his young mistress is silent for a moment, before she at last answers the second question, even more softly than before: "I... healed him." Hearing and taking note of the quiet tones used to answer her question, Teliko's reply is equally low-pitched. "One of those types from Delphi?" A pause. Large eyes that seem more green than blue in this light (or lack thereof) blink owlishly, then she adds, "Wait- no. The Varati usually don't go there, do they? I haven't seen as many of them leave the gates as my own folk. Or even the Empyreans." She spends a quiet moment continuing to scratch away at the dog's ears- he seems to enjoy it, so why ruin his puppyish fun by stopping. Then: "I don't know much about healing. No-one in my family is a healer. It must be pretty powerful if it could make him into such a happy little dog from what you say he was." A flicker of relief courses across Faanshi's heart, as she senses that the instinct that guided her to speak truly to this kind-voiced water-child so far seems to be leading her well. Perhaps it will hold up? As she watches the other maiden bestow affection on her now significantly damp pup, there comes another answer from behind her veil: "My service belongs to the Khalid Atar, and to Kiera Khalida, his Favored." That's easy enough, and delivered in tones of gentle conviction. Slightly less certain is the addendum, "I was... very fortunate, with Kosha." Meanwhile, as the two have been engaging in pleasant conversation, the sun has decided that, yes, it will rise today. The golden orb has begun to peek over the horizon, bringing no warmth- only a deceptive cool, despite the pretty yet useless, amber rays it casts over the terrain. The best time for fishing has passed, but perhaps there is a chance that the fish will remain active due to the rain. Teliko decides to risk it and spend a little longer with the maiden and her dog. Her scratcing of his ears has faded to an almost automatic action, for all her other attention is focused on the cerluean-clad lass. "Khalid Atar.." she muses. "The king of the Varati, yes? I've heard of him." How could one not? "Our God," is the softly, reverently delivered reply, "and our King." The sound of the soft voices and the pattern of the raindrops lends a soft and subtle air to the scene, but as the sun begins to make itself known, the blue-clad maiden's attention diverts up towards the light. "The dawn comes," she breathes, rising to her feet in a single movement apparently intended to best settle the dampened sari about her tall, slender form. "Please excuse me, but... I must go...!" Conscious, then, that this might sound over-abrupt, she explains earnestly, "I must light a fire for the Khalid's holy Mother... and say my prayers for the morning." Humbly, she drops a curtsey, bowing her head to the other maiden. "Thank you for your kindness to my dog, imphada." The Atlantean maiden also rises, lifting her hand in an elegant gesture from the pup's head and letting it settle at her side. As she does so, it becomes plain to see that her own garments are made for this sort of dampness: the sarong settles with a fluidity equal to its wearer's gait as if it were still dry as when she awoke. "Well, if that's what you do this time of day," she shrugs her bare shoulders, "then you should go tend to it. Me? I'd best see if there are any more fish to catch, or whether they all left at first light as they tend to do." Her gaze settles for one last time on the Varatilike maiden, and she proposes, "Maybe I'll see you later..And have some more fish for this little fuzzy stomach here." She smiles warmly at both dog and mistress for a short time, then strides off through the gardens, toward the street. [End log.]