"Aid and Comfort"

Log Date:
	9/27, 10/1, 10/2/00

Log Date:
	Faanshi, Sunset Tide

Log Intro:
	The Varati are at war with one another -- and word has come to Haven 
that Khalid Atar Himself was slain in battle. Anxious to keep the wrath of the 
Maharani from falling upon the hapless Sylvans, the young halfbreed has hurled 
herself headlong into the search, only to do herself in by her own profound
concern. Overworked and over-worried, Faanshi has succumbed to a winter flu
in the midst of her search for the Sylvans who'd intruded upon the sacred
Varati ritual of Invoking the Flame. 
	But fortunately for Faanshi, she has not had to suffer her illness
alone on the streets. She has been found and taken in by a kindly Sylvan
sailor, Sunset Tide... and for all that she might ordinarily worry about the
propriety of being alone in a man's quarters with him, she is far too much
of a healer not to appreciate the respite her body is demanding.
	And for once, in Sunset Tide's care, she feels not only safe, but
almost at peace....

----------
When you get right down to it, this is not the first time Faanshi has ever 
  been ill. She has grown sick and faint from the backlash of her own magic 
  before, when fractious power she has not permitted out to confront sickness 
  or injury in others has turned on her to expend itself, leaving her reeling 
  in the aftereffects. But it's been some time since the days when she could 
  not control her power safely, and in the intervening time, an already 
  instinctual knowledge of what it feels like when something is wrong with her 
  body has been augmented by conscious understanding of what her magic tells 
  her. Now, a span of hours she cannot measure after Sunset Tide had helped 
  her to bed in his little dwelling place, the shudra maiden wakes again with 
  one consicous thought:
_I hate being sick._

Sitting over by his small table, which the man likely uses for everything one 
  would use any hard elevated surface for, Tide is holding a block of wood in 
  his hands as he peers intently at it. Certain pieces are not quite missing, 
  but they have, obviously, been shifted of moved around as his long, thin 
  fingers hold to the item while his mind forces its conception of reality 
  onto the hardened core of the wood. The shape that it appears to be taking 
  is, vaguely, human though difficult to tell precisely what it will become 
  when the aqua eyed SYlvan has completed the transformation. When you stir 
  again the man turns to look over his shoulder at you and the huge dog that, 
  by default, lays by your side.

The maiden's sungolden hand is the first thing about her that stirs, lifting 
  up fretfully to her veil even before anything else, as if she 
  half-unconsciously fears that it might have been disturbed in her slumber. 
  Only when it seems to be more or less still in place -- even if in sad need 
  of smoothing -- does Faanshi then open her eyes. Her small motions attract 
  the attention of the dog, whose tail thumps against the floor, and that 
  little noise makes Faanshi murmur in bemusement, "Kosha..." Then her head 
  turns, nervous green gaze trying to take in the room. It doesn't take her 
  long to find the other who has been keeping watch over her, and upon you her 
  gaze now stops, timid, uncertain.

Watching you for a few moments before Tide fully turns around to watch your 
  timid frame manuevering so tentatively about, "Welcome back to reality, 
  lass. I's beginnin' to think that ye were gonna stay here with me fore'er." 
  he chimes at you in a merry fashion, putting on a smile so bright that it 
  makes an effort to challenge the sun's dominance in the sky. "I hope yuir 
  feelin' a bit better'n ye were when I brought ye in 'ere, elsewise I'm gonna 
  ha'e to seek out a 'ealer for the 'ealer." he finally grins at you brightly.

It seems fairly obvious that Faanshi is not accustomed to receiving brilliant 
  smiles, for her brow crinkles and she peeks up at her benefactor strangely, 
  as if he were a wyvern that had suddenly taken it into its head to come and 
  lick her face as Kosha might. "I... do not feel so tired," she begins, and 
  the sound of her voice makes Kosha pull himself up off the floor, even 
  happier now. And now a bit of alarm creeps across what little is visible of 
  her expression. "How... if you please... h-how long have I been asleep...?"

He seems to think about this thoughtfully for a few moments and finally his 
  thin shoulders shrug upwards and he offers you a smaller, more normal smile 
  from his easy face. "A bit more'n a day. Drinkin' that tea'n sleepin's all 
  ye been doin'." pausing a moment Tide grins at you in a playful and rakish 
  manner as he speaks in similar tones of voice, "A bit rumpled, but certainly 
  nae worse for the wear in 'ere that's for certainly. But for the lack'a 
  noise people might think somethin' naughty's been happenin'... but, alas, I 
  ha'e nae such luck 'ere in me little house." he says in a mock disappointed 
  fashion.

Something 'naughty'. Faanshi isn't exactly sure what that is supposed to mean, 
  but the sound of it nevertheless makes her drop her gaze as best she can 
  while she's lying prone. "I... I-I would not know of such things--" she 
  murmurs, cutting herself off just in time to keep from saying 'imphadi'. 
  And, chagrined, she blurts, "I have kept you from your bed. I should not 
  stay here much longer..." She stirs restlessly, trying to move or at least 
  to get tangled blankets unwound from about her body, while Kosha gets to his 
  feet and tries to nuzzle her over the side of the bed.

Not moving, for fear he might send you into a dire dreadful state of fear and 
  shock, Tide watches you wrestling with those gripping, clinging beasts known 
  as blankets for a moment. "nae, I s'ppose ye would nae." he says in a gentle 
  and easy fashion as he shrugs his shoulders upwards and presses his lips 
  against each other, "Yuir nae botherin' me by stayin' in the bed, s'there 
  so's to be used. If nae by me, then by someone else and ye surely need the 
  rest a good bit more'n I ever will need any." he says to you with grin and 
  an affirming voice.

Somehow, Faanshi manages to sit up at last, a tangle of blankets about her lap 
  and her sari tangled about her upper frame. In consternation she inspects 
  her disheveled person, feeling abruptly swamped by a wave of disorientation. 
  What is she doing here, her clothes in such a state? What would the 
  khansamah say if he saw her like this -- assuming that is that he doesn't 
  beat her or at least scold her mightily for being away from Atesh-Gah for 
  Ushas knows how many hours?
But there is no khansamah here. And even though Faanshi has to wrestle with a 
  surge of dread about returning to the Varati citadel and how she will 
  explain her absence, the gentle attitude of her benefactor begins at least 
  somewhat to assure her that there is nothing much to fear _here_. 
  Tentatively, though she does not raise up her gaze, she turns her head in 
  your direction. Tentatively, she asks, "Why... did you help me....?"

Ah, but to just have you look at him. Of course, he's been fortunate enough to 
  experience that once or twice before in the past, on the first meeting even. 
  Tide considers you question as he swings his legs and plops them on the 
  table top, balancing in his chair. "Oh. I figure twas because I knew ye were 
  rich'n I'd come 'way with some great reward for keepin' ye ali'e and 
  healthy. This'a way I can retire after the ransom when I send ye back to the 
  'rati folks." he chimes to you, a merry jestful voice full of the mirth and 
  playfulness you should have come to expect of him by now. One of hsi aqua 
  eyes winks at you though you undoubtably don't see this happen.

Slowly, but palpably, the maiden's gaze comes up. "You are... teasing me," 
  Faanshi realizes, the uncertain tone of her soft voice reflecting the 
  bafflement in her eyes. Ah ha. So she knows humor when she hears it? "I am 
  only a shudra... I am not rich...!"

Nodding his head at your words for a moment Tide replies with a slim, sly 
  smile to your own words. "Aye, I'm teasin' ye. I helped ye because ye needed 
  help'n I could provide it. Or, thought I could in any case." his bubbly, 
  liquid voice claims to your own statement and motions a hand dismissally, 
  "Besides, e'en if I wanted money I could hardly get anything ot'a ye 'cause 
  ye just just a bed for a day... nae much value in that coin." he sighs again 
  in mock sadness.

Faanshi does not actually look down again, and thus the bleak look that 
  flickers across them might perchance be glimpsed, a sign that she might as 
  well have looked down. Her eyes give away more than her voice, however, as 
  she blurts, "There is not, there would not, be much value in a ransom on 
  me--" And then she catches herself, blushing heatedly and _now_ lowering her 
  gaze, along with leaning her brow forward into her hand. She should not have 
  said that, she tells herself dolefully. It serves no purpose.

Remaining bright and pleasant the man offers you a slight smile and shakes his 
  head a little bit, "Well, if'n they will nae pay for ye I'll gladly keep ye. 
  I can use meself a nice healer'n a pretty lass to boot for that." Tide says 
  to you in a gentle and sympathetic tone of voice as he finally stands from 
  his seat to make his way over towards the bed with some more tea in one of 
  those curious wooden bowl-cups that he has in his home. "Here, lass, drink 
  this once more. I s'ppose this'll make ye feel better, ye told me it did 
  anyways." he watches your downtrodden persona come through again.

Did she? Faanshi frowns, not liking the scattered state of her thoughts -- but 
  aye, she can recollect murmuring something about tea. She starts, but only a 
  little, as you approach her with cup in hand; as you draw near, she does not 
  lift her gaze past the cup, but at least she does accept it. "It is 
  feverfew," she murmurs, almost absently. "A-and chamomile... for relaxing, 
  and helping the body become cool again..." If she is aware of a 
  contradiction in her claims of worthlessness and the tiny glimmers of 
  knowledge and authority peeking through in her apparent comfort with 
  identifying herbs, she certainly shows no sign of it. More of her attention 
  occupies itself for a fraction of an instant upon the simple fact that she 
  needs to drink the tea, but there's a veil in the way. Finally, with one 
  hand, she awkwardly lifts the blue silk out of the way while with the other 
  she tries to hold the cup. Neither of these are particularly steady, if the 
  quivering of her fingers is any indication.

"Aye, s'what ye told me to put in it. I truly hoped that ye'd been lucid when 
  ye said that to me 'cause I surely did nae want to go feedin' ye flowers 
  taht were gonna kill ye dead." Tide says to you once more as he watches you 
  drink the tea, "Do ye need help with that lass? Yuir still a bit weak from 
  the fever I think, 'n ye ha'e nae been up or about in nearly a day so yuir 
  likely pretty stiff'r weak feeling now..."

"I-I-I carry no dangerous herbs with me," Faanshi breathes, sounding ever so 
  slightly surprised at even the possibility that she might. Then she pauses, 
  lowering the cup a bit and frowning at the trembling in her hands. Some of 
  it seems to her to spread down through her arms and up to her shoulders, and 
  she squeezes her eyes shut, hard, in an attempt to will herself to strength 
  and steadiness. Only with great reluctance and in a very tiny, humble voice 
  does she then finally whisper, "If you... if you would... please..."

He takes the cup from your hands, very smoothly and easily with his careful 
  fingers lifting the little wooden cup, then he lifts it towards your lips. 
  Waiting for you to situate your veil however it is that you want it 
  situated, "Yuir likely to need to eat some real food soon, to help ye get 
  yuir strength back. I ha'e a bit'a beef'n potatoes in a stew that I can warm 
  for ye. Hardly anything worthy'a notin', but it'll put solid food in yuir 
  belly so that ye can get goin' good on'a meal now." the fluid voice murmurs 
  to you as he helps you very carefully and makes sure not to do anything to 
  frighten your delicate varati sensibilities.

It's a delicate operation, trying to balance four hands, a veil, and a cup, 
  all while trying to keep portions of Faanshi's face out of your line of 
  sight. Somehow the maiden manages to hold part of her veil out of the way, 
  but even so, the line of her delicate jaw might be glimpsed upon the nearer 
  side of her face as she squeezes her eyes closed once again and focuses upon 
  swallowing down the contents of the cup held to her lips. In between gulps 
  she can be heard to rasp, "Food... broth? Broth first... in case my body 
  cannot take solid meat..."

Carefully times the cup so that the liquid comes out in careful, deliberately 
  spaced pours of the cup to your lips. He allows you to control your own 
  privacy issues and he concentrates on making sure you get the drink in your 
  mouth instead of on your chin. "As ye wish. I'll ladle out some'a the water 
  that was in teh soup, it ought'a ha'e some decent taste to it, but I doubtt 
  it'll ha'e what ye need to keep yuir tummy full." he says, sitting the cup 
  on the bed beside you, primarily empty but for a few drops, and goes to work 
  on a smallish pot of meat and potatoes.

As you move away again, Faanshi drops her veil again over her lower face, 
  blowing out a sigh and simply sitting there for a few moments to try to 
  listen to that inner voice that tells her of the state of her own body. "If 
  I eat too quickly, it may not help," she admits timidly, this time without a 
  tremor in her voice, though she still sounds as if she half-expects to be 
  contradicted or scolded for speaking with anything resembling assurance. But 
  as you go to work with the meat and potatoes, Kosha is finally encouraged to 
  get up and follow you across the room. With his mistress moving and 
  speaking, the dog is willing to let himself be distracted by something 
  almost as important -- food. Faanshi's gaze creeps up again as she follows 
  the dog's motions with her eyes, and by extenion, your own. Just a touch of 
  furtive curiosity there... but it's there.

Sunset Tide's stride is short and bouncy, you can tell that he's accustomed to 
  walking on a boat based on the slight, subtle sway in his step. "Aye, I bet 
  yuir hungry are ye nae, hound? S'been almost two hours since I fed ye." he 
  says in a playful, bemused vouice and tosses the dog a small hunk of boiled 
  beef, "Eat up, s'all yuir gettin' for a while. The rest's for yuir woman." 
  he says and scritches the dog's ear just a moment. Waiting by the fire while 
  the soup heat to a pretty warm temperature Tide then ladles out some of the 
  qater only into a deeper bowl to carry it back to you. "I guess ye'd know 
  better'n I would."

Again that furtively curious look comes into Faanshi's eyes, as she lets 
  herself continue to look up, watching you cross the room again. It might be 
  argued that those eyes of hers are even more puppylike than those of Kosha; 
  they're certainly less confident. Kosha is not a dog suffering from whatever 
  has left his young mistress' spirit in shreds. She stares up at you now as 
  you bring her the soup, not exactly comfortable with this care being paid to 
  her, though honor demands that she acknowledge it. In utmost solemnity she 
  murmurs, "I owe you... perhaps my life. I had not realized my strength w-was 
  so diminished, and if I had collapsed in the snow..." The halfbreed pauses 
  to swallow unseen behind her veil, then finishes earnestly, "Will you permit 
  me to return your kindness... somehow?"

Nodding his head at your words with a smile the man offers you the bowl with 
  the smooth, well crafted wooden spoon as a utensil to you. "ye owe me nae 
  one thing more'n sayin' a thank ye. Howe'er, if I e'er need it I'll be sure 
  to send ye a message to sew me belly back up if'n it gets cut open." Tide 
  says to you in a charming, playful voice as he winks an aqua, blue-green 
  eyes at you. The words are dire, but they're certainly meant in a playful 
  and jestful manner. He seems intent on making you smile, seating himself 
  next to you for a moment he waits to see if you can deal with food yourself. 
  Suspecting, in fact, that you won't be able to. "It'll help if ye take that 
  thing off. I know its something special to ye 'rati, but s'really in yuir 
  way."

For a few moments, Faanshi just sits there, staring dolefully at the warm bowl 
  that's been gently pressed into her hands, realizing in her inner thoughts 
  that for all the fear that grips her at the notion of unveiling before a 
  man, Sunset Tide is right. The veil is a dreadful nuisance when she needs to 
  eat or drink, and she can feel her hands shaking as it is even with the 
  simple effort of holding the bowl. Never mind trying to sip at the broth 
  within it while holding her veil out of the way. Faanshi draws in a breath, 
  then releases it and shakily whispers, "The women of the Varati... are 
  not... supposed to bare their faces before men who a-are not their 
  husbands." Even as she says this, however, she balances the bowl as best she 
  can in the palm of her left hand while reaching up with her right, around 
  behind her head, to unfasten the chain that holds her veil in place. In a 
  whisper of silk it drops down into her lap, and she sits there with her face 
  lowered and her eyes pressed closed. This is not the first time a candala 
  man has seen her face -- but when just about all of those who have seen her 
  thusly bared have either died or disappeared or been the victims of 
  similarly dire misfortune, it is difficult indeed not to be more than a 
  trifle superstitious about letting it happen again. _Forgive me, Holy 
  Mother... forgive me, Amir-al..._

"I ha'e heard that in places b'fore, but I ne'er understood why. S'not like ye 
  folk are hideous... or, on'a average, any more 'ttractive than any other 
  type'a woman in'a world." he says with a shrug of his shoulders and sends 
  you a wane, honest smile for the moment as his sparkling, aqua eyes shimmer 
  when he looks at you for a moment. "Yuir very pretty, 'shi." he says to you 
  in a complimentary fashion, "Hidin' a face like 'at's got'a be a crime 
  somehow." he says and winks at you with those sparkling eyes. "'sides, I see 
  all sorts'a ladies'a 'rati kind runnin' 'round with their veils off." he 
  says to you in a curious manner. Perhaps hoping that you may explain why 
  this has happened.

With her veil down, it is easy to see that Faanshi is not healthy at the 
  moment; lines of strain have etched themselves into her sungolden features, 
  and there are deep, shadowed hollows about her big exhausted eyes. But it is 
  also easy to see that despite her Varati coloring, the structure of her 
  features is entirely Sylvan. She does not look up, and neither does she 
  smile at the sailor's easy compliment. Instead, she hollowly murmurs, "Some 
  women are... are permitted to bare their faces. Kshatri women... nobles. 
  S-some Clans have differing ways as well..." And, shakily, she at last tries 
  to lift up the spoon from the bowl and maneuver it to her mouth. Her gaze 
  rivets itself upon that spoon, with an intensity that suggests that for the 
  time being, succeeding in lifting it is important to her to the exclusion of 
  almost all else.

"Do ye need help with that, lass?" Tide speaks to you as he nods towards the 
  bowl and then looks back to your face for confirmation or denail of your 
  need. Sylvan truly come in all colors, from pale skin and red hair to a deep 
  ebony-brown with black hair. So, aside from the fact that you are notably 
  larger than most Sylvan women, if not all, you look like a Sylvan wearing 
  Varati clothes and whose had her ears maimed by soem sadistic torturer. 
  "Aye, ye look like this one breed'a forest folk I saw in'a port 'cross the 
  sea a few moons back. T'were an interesting tribe, tended towards desert and 
  mountain life for the bigger part." he explains to you in a thoughtful, 
  liquid voice.

_That_ gets her to look up. "P-people that look like... me?" Faanshi blurts, 
  startled by the entire concept. It commands her attention even more than the 
  gentle offer of help does, though tears of frustration have begun to well 
  across her eyes at her own weakness. Fever heat still colors her cheeks with 
  an abnormal flush. But still, it seems to take her much effort before she 
  can bring herself to add in ashamed tones, "My... hands are shaking, I-I do 
  not know if I can..." Faanshi does not have much pride. But it seems that at 
  least she has a little, and it is in tatters now.

He takes the bowl from you and holds it carefully in one, long fingered hand 
  near your lips and then begins to carefully spoon it into your mouth. Little 
  'sips' of the broth first and waiting to see how you accept that before 
  going on any further, "Oh, aye, lass. There's people that look like all 
  sorts 'round the world. Brown winged bird folk, black skinned fish folk, 
  froest runner that look like ye... 'cept nae so tall as ye, usually, but 
  some of them aye." he says in a rambling, muddle footed manner of 
  explanation. His aua hued eyes sparkle in a brilliant manner while they seem 
  to motion back and forth like waves might. "Why're ye surprised? I'm pretty 
  young, aye, but I ha'e seen a good portion'a this 'ere world. More'n most'a 
  yuir folk in this city ha'e in any case."

Faanshi's state is generally fairly humble as it is -- but even she cannot 
  help but feel ashamed at being reduced to having to be fed like an infant. 
  Her chagrin and embarrassment flicker across her expression quite visibly; 
  with the veil down, it's almost laughably easy to read every little nuance 
  of thought she has in her features and her eyes. Perhaps, with her face 
  hidden behind blue silk most of the time, she's never learned to school her 
  expressions? In between sips of the broth -- which, thank Ushas, goes down 
  without protest and begins to send much-needed strength seeping through her 
  system -- Faanshi answers awkwardly, "I... did not know... there was anyone 
  else l-like me in the world. They live as Sylvans do... these others?"

"Well, like i said, they live mostly in mountains near deserts'n stuff but 
  they're pretty much nature folk. Like the forest folk ye know'a, aye." Tide 
  explains to you with a curious tint to his voice a thoughtful shrug, "I 
  s'pose that's something all 'sylvan' folk ha'e in common is just a simple 
  lo'e'a nature in some manner." he says to you with a smile flashing upon his 
  lips again, spooning some more broth into your waiting and oh so very 
  readable lips. "I'm a bit strange by their standards, since I lo'e life by 
  the sea'n ocean more'n I lo'e life on land. S'part'a me rootst hat they do 
  nae understand very well." he says and smiles.

"I like the green growing places in Haven," Faanshi murmurs then, after 
  swallowing down another spoonful of the broth. "And the forests... just 
  north, and west... I rode through the forests once. All the way to Avalon." 
  Perhaps it's the gentle smiles being given her, or the soothing tone of the 
  conversation, or perhaps just the simple sustenance of the hot broth. But 
  whatever the reason, Faanshi's voice loses a bit of its hesitance, though 
  she still speaks with all the shyness of a child confessing secrets to a 
  playmate in the middle of the night, during a thunderstorm.

"Aye. Perhaps ye could walk with me out to the west one day. I'm gettin' some 
  teachin' from the Sachem out that way. They seem awful friendly when all 
  things'r said'n done." his liquid, ever changing voice explains to you in a 
  thoughtful manner as the spooncomes to those lips once again. Perhaps it is 
  that he is caring for you and offers not one bit of judgemental or hateful 
  words to you and gives you every option he can offer that has won some 
  trust. Basic respect without pressure often makes speaking easier. "They 
  ha'e a ncie forest out that'a way'n I try to make it out there once'r twice 
  a month for a few days at a time." he explains to you.

"The Sachem Many Shadows?" blurts Faanshi then, seeming startled to hear of 
  this connection. "Of the Ettowealona? I-I have been there... I went there 
  with my teacher, my acarya, FallingStar... we went to ask them for help in 
  finding the ones who violated the ritual..." And with that, she trails off, 
  looking acutely troubled again, even as she meekly accepts the broth given 
  her. That swallowed, she concludes mournfully, "I do not know if I would be 
  permitted to return."

"Aye, Many Shadows they name 'er. An old woman, smart'n too if a bit on the 
  hard side." Tide replies to you words as his head nods to you in a 
  thoughtful and slow manner. The spoon rises and falls again, most of this 
  broth has departed through the method of your inhalation. "Why would ye 
  think that they would nae welcome ye back to their lands, lass?" he says 
  after a few moments long pause before he finally questions you about the 
  reasons. Its possible that he may make some guesses and assumptions on the 
  matter, but he would rather hear the truth before he speaks aloud on the 
  matter.

Green eyes seeming more or less willing to meet aqua now, Faanshi answers 
  plaintively, "I'm half Varati. I don't fit in there... a-and I'm not sure 
  that the Varati would let me go back." Well, all right, her gaze dips down 
  again to follow the motion of the spoon, but at least it comes back up again.

Shrugging his shoulders upwards a little bit as he spoonst he last little sips 
  of the broth into your mouth and leaves the bowl in his lap, absently. "Oh, 
  tehy almost never turn someone away from their lands. At least, not the 
  Ettowealana. I ha'e heard unpleasant things about that tribe to the north, 
  very aggressive." Tide's liquid and smooth voice says to you in a thoughtful 
  manner. "I can nae speak for the 'rati, though. I think that they're a bit 
  funny in heir ways, but I think the Ettowealana would let ye in 'less ye 
  pissed 'em off when ye were there last."

"The Apisachi are very fierce," Faanshi agrees in earnest tones, "and very 
  private, and... and I-I hope I do not have to go ask them for help in my 
  search..." Looking abruptly entirely drained of strength, her head and 
  shoulders bowing, the maiden goes on in a ragged whisper, "The ways of the 
  Sylvans a-are not the ways of the Varati, and the Apisachi... are even more 
  different from the Children of Fire than the Ettowealona... I do not... 
  think I am brave enough to have to talk to them..."

"Aye." Tide respondst o you but he is foreign to this environment, even though 
  he's made a few friends here, and doesn't completely understand that the 
  Apisachi are not only aggressive, they are out and out violent to strangers. 
  Shoot first and ask questions later never had so much meaning. "I hope ye do 
  nae either, then." he says to you in an agreeable tone as he reaches up a 
  weather worn hand to lightly touch your cheek with his fingers. 
  Encouragingly, "Stop being so hard on yuirself woman, tisnae yuir place to 
  be the ambassador to the Sylvan folk just 'cause ye had the happenstance to 
  ha'e a bit'a their blood in ye."

"I-I am bidden--" Faanshi doesn't exactly trail off, and neither does she cut 
  herself solidly off; instead, her voice wavers into a startled pause, as a 
  little tremor of surprise shoots through her entire frame at the contact. 
  Not entirely a flinch away from that rough hand, but assuredly a shiver of 
  surprise. It's not often this maiden is comfortingly touched. Eyes limpid, 
  pained, she croaks then, "I-I am ordered to find the Sylvans, my mistress 
  said so and so I _must_... that is my place...!"

Grinning at you a little he shrugs and takes the bowl up and starts back 
  towards the stew as he rises, "Well, ye found plenty'a them. S'not like yuir 
  some great master detective, 'less ye ha'e nae told me something 'bout what 
  yuir doin' outside'a healing." Tide says to you in a merry jestful manner as 
  he looks at the stew and then back at you, "Perhaps a bit'a meat this time?" 
  he questions you in a curious manner as his brown with vague green tints 
  eyebrows arching up ever so slightly as he watches you. He seems pretty 
  cheerful and bright, irregardless of your shock or condition. Perhaps trying 
  to infect you with a moment of happiness.

Apparently, the teasing doesn't _quite_ manage to register with the girl. 
  "No," she murmurs uncertainly, "I am only a healer, and a humble shudra..." 
  For a few moments she closes her eyes, concentrating with as much fierceness 
  as her gentle nature can muster on the simple act of breathing and 
  continuing to sit more or less upright. The broth is staying where it 
  belongs, which is good, and thus with a semblance of assurance she is able 
  to agrees, "Yes... please... a bit of meat... I think I will be able to keep 
  it down." In the meantime Kosha yawns mightily, lying down again by the bed, 
  greatly contented. He has eaten, he is warm, and Faanshi is better. All is 
  right in his canine view of the world.

The young Sylvan sailor spoons out a few dollops of steamed and boil beef 
  along with some potatoes and broth into the bowl that he carries. His legs 
  carefully wind their way back along the floor to your bedside while he 
  watches you with sparkling, aqua eyes. "I think ye'll do well with it, it'll 
  help ye get yuir strength back faster in any case." Tide explains to you as 
  he seats himself in the chair across from you this time, scooting it nearer. 
  Lifiting the spoon up after 'crunching' bits of the meat into more managable 
  bites, towards your lips.

Looking not entirely unlike a large underfed child, Faanshi bobs her head 
  solemnly as her benefactor comes back over to her. She can do this. She can 
  spend enough strength to keep sitting up, to accept the food given her with 
  as much pride as possible. "Yes," she murmurs huskily, and then after she's 
  taken a few bites and swallowed them down, she appends, "Thank you, Sunset 
  Tide...!" In her accents, the name is almost formal, not quite 'Imphadi' but 
  still given a gravity that a Sylvan maiden would not express.

Snorting at you the young fellow shakes his head at you and speaks in a 
  dismissal manner, belittling what he's doing for you, "Tis nae a thing to 
  worry 'bout, lass." Tide explains to you as you take the little bites of 
  beef that he offers you and, occasinally, potatoes. "Tis the best I can do 
  for someone who may be a good friend some day, I think ye do plenty'a good 
  things for other folk and it may ha'e been time for karma to catch up with 
  ye and sa'e ye from this miserable sickness that ye ha'e contracted." he 
  says to you brightly. "See, now I'm fate!"

Something strange happens to Faanshi's grave countenance then, so small a 
  change that someone not looking directly at her could easily miss it. But 
  since Sunset Tide's gaze is squarely upon her, the timid little upward curl 
  of both ends of the maiden's mouth presents itself clearly to his sight. It 
  does, in fact, appear to be possible to get Faanshi to smile, even though it 
  doesn't really reach her eyes. "I am not used to fate being kind," she 
  whispers.

"Well, like I said to ye, fate's gotta funny way'a workin'. Lotta folks 
  chooset o believe that, aye, it smacks ye with a load of rubbish often but 
  it also offers good in return for ill if ye look for it." Tide explains to 
  you as he feeds you another bite, very careful not to spill any on you nice 
  Khalida sari. When you've taken your bites and swallowed the Sylvan sialor 
  shrugs his shoulders upwards, "Dunno if I believe that or nae, but it 
  certainly seemst o make a weird kind'a sense. Do ye nae think so?" he asks 
  you.

The red patterned silk that still more or less swathes Faanshi's frame could 
  use a wash, and it could use a steaming to coax the wrinkles out of it -- 
  though aye, it would be good to keep further stains from the meaty broth out 
  of it as well. It is not entirely like feeding an infant, spooning the soup 
  bit by bit into the maiden's lips, for she does at least lean forward for 
  each morsel and receive it with a concentration more intent than that of any 
  baby. Moreover, few babies pause in between swallowing to crinkle their 
  brows in pensive thought at philosophical questions put to them. When she 
  can speak again the healer considers, and then says sadly, "I try to look 
  for good things I have been granted... because it seems a-a sin that I am 
  not... content, but it is very hard!"

Not that Tide has the ability to relate to feeding an infant any more than he 
  has experience feeding shdura of the Khalida clan, however he performs teh 
  task adequately if not with flash and glittert hat you are accustomed to 
  when someone feeds you. "Tis nae a sin to want to ha'e more, lass." Tide 
  says to you, confused in full for the moment as he continues to speak to you 
  in a thoughtful manner while shaking his head. "Tis ill if ye want too much, 
  but there's nae one fault in wantin' to take a little bit more to ease yuir 
  life and help ye get a bit more happiness. E'ery person deserves some small 
  measure'a happiness. If e'eryone had a bit more, we'd all get 'long at least 
  twice so good as we do now." he says with definitive manner of conviction.

Faanshi goes still and thoughtful, gaze dropping away for a few moments before 
  it ventures timidly upward again. Profound indecision crinkles her delicate 
  features, making the feathered black brows wing down worriedly over her 
  enormous eyes. "I-I-I try," she begins, and then she frowns abashedly at the 
  catch in her voice. It takes her more effort to continue, "I try... to 
  remember that other shudra serve... and with contentment and joy... I try, I 
  try very hard, but I can't..." Oh dear. Is she about to cry again? She 
  certainly seems to think so, for her mouth pulls itself into a tiny stoic 
  line.

Watching you as you begin to fuzz up on him again he goes quiet and doesn't 
  try to press the issue very much, his opinion known there's no reason to 
  make you get weepy over it."Well, ye seem to be more content than i would be 
  in yuir position." Sunset Tide consoles you, helping you feel as though you 
  are truly succeeding beyond the norm with your bid to enjoy being 
  downtrodden and generally treated poorly. "I would ha'e been runnin' fast'n 
  far as I could. They'd'a killed me years ago 'fore I got old 'nough to work 
  anythin' else out. I think the need for freedom s'part of the forest folks 
  make up too." he leaves unsaid that that would me you, also, likely feel the 
  same need to be out from beneath the yoke at a lot of times.

Freedom. It's a very tempting concept to a girl who's stood on the fringe of 
  both Varati society and that of the city of Haven, poised between them both 
  and therefore positioned to see exactly how she fails to fit into either of 
  them. As Faanshi struggles within herself, her already admittedly meager 
  appetite abandons her entirely, and she has to turn her face away from 
  what's left of the stew. "E-everyone outside Atesh-Gah seems to think I-I am 
  abused," she blurts. "But I-I-I-I am not beaten, and I-I have clothes and 
  food, a-a place to sleep... they let me have Kosha..." At the sound of his 
  name, the dog yawns again, and wags his tail drowsily. Faanshi doesn't seem 
  to see it, though. "And I-I can go out to heal people a-as I wish... I do 
  not have to mop the floors anymore! It is... a good way to serve, if one 
  must serve... isn't it?" And at last she turns her anxious gaze back to the 
  Sylvan before her, seeking reassurance.

"I ne'er said that ye were abused'r beaten'r anything of the sort, lass. Just 
  that, by yuir own admission, all'a that stuff they gi'e ye and offer ye 
  hardly gi'es ye one ounce'a pleasure. If ye enjoy what ye do, well, that's 
  one thing. I like bein' a sailor. Pays good, but the job's dangerous and 
  takes ye places ye ought not be pretty often. Ne'er get to see hardly no one 
  ye care 'bout in one way'r 'nother. Hell, s'nearly impossible to even send a 
  letter. I lo'e it though." Tide explains to you in a patient manner, 
  dropping the spoon to the bowl and leaving it there in his lap quietly. "But 
  if ye get nae pleasure'r satisfaction from what ye do... well, then I would 
  nae want to be ye, 'shi. There's good'n ill in every facet'a life. If ye 
  like where ye are, then blow them otehr folk off'n ignore 'em. If ye do 
  nae... well, I do nae know what yuir options'r with them 'rati."

Faanshi listens to all of the sailor's words, that anxious furrow still 
  marring her sungolden brow, a thousand different thoughts tumbling around 
  behind her eyes... and visibly so, within her troubled gaze and her unveiled 
  face. Each little nuance of expression can be tracked across her features, 
  and what finally wells up in the midst of all her uncertainty is a helpless, 
  exhausted frustration. Perhaps if she were hale, she would be better able to 
  answer this wisdom being proffered her. But she is not. And so what comes 
  out of her is almost a desperate prayer. "I... I just... I just need a 
  little more strength... if the Holy Mother would grant...." Her body begins 
  to waver there where she sits upon the bed, and she abruptly fumbles with 
  one hand, trying to keep herself sitting up. But now her arm is trembling, 
  and her expression has become what might almost be a self-directed scowl.

"'ere lass, lay down 'gain. Sleep a bit more'n let the food digest, when ye 
  wake up I garuntee ye'll be feelin' better'n stronger too. Then, maybe we 
  can see if yuir well enough to get out the door'n down the block without 
  toppling o'er like some spent soldier." Tide says to you as his hands take 
  your shoulder, firm but not horribly pressuring, and move to lay you back 
  down and draw the blankets up on you again as he offers you a smile. "Ye 
  ha'e all the tiem in'a world, lass. There's hardly a bit'a need to fuss it 
  all up with yuirself right now."

It is not exactly strange to be treated this way by a Sylvan... but it is, to 
  Faanshi, strange to be treated this way by a man. Faanshi blinks liquidly up 
  at Sunset Tide even as he settles her down again, bemused of expression but 
  without protest. For a moment, for just a moment, those sweet features of 
  hers are overcome by a sharp pang of what can only be worried grief -- but 
  she gives no voice to whatever brought that sorrow into her eyes. The 
  closest she comes is to plead even as her senses demand that she rest and 
  tug her back towards slumber, "You will not go away, Sunset Tide?"

Shaking his head at you as he smiles down on your bleary face for a moment he 
  reaches down and brushes your hair with a firm, friendly hand and says to 
  you reassuringly. "Me'n Kosha'll be here as long as ye are, lass. I'm nae 
  gonna leave ye untended while yuir so weak'n ill." his voice says to you in 
  the liquid, quicksilver fashion of its ever changing and near musical tones.

Those musically murmured syllables soak down into Faanshi's consciousness... 
  and if she'd seemed a large and underfed child while being fed, so perhaps 
  now might she seem a tired child finally coaxed into needed slumber. If she 
  were more aware, perhaps she might start again at the touch of the hand upon 
  her hair. But for now, the simple desperate need for human contact overrides 
  her shyness. Faanshi's face turns towards the comforting hand, and with a 
  soft exhalation of what might almost be relief, she lets herself succumb to 
  the release of sleep.

[End log.]