"Beneath a Warlord's Face" Log Date: 10/23, 10/27/00 Log Cast: Faanshi, Delilah Log Intro: After many days of taking shelter in her teacher's herb shop, the griefstricken Faanshi has finally achieved a measure of peace in her heart -- thanks to a strange vivid dream that came to her in the night of her lost beloved, Lyre Talespinner. Or at least, she thinks -- mostly certain -- that it had been a dream... Her heart has been eased, too, by the arrival at A Moment in Thyme of a refugee out of war-torn Avalon, bearing with him a confirmation of what had befallen the wandering bard... but bringing with him a precious gift for the shudra: the instrument with which her beloved had shared his name. Now, with the lyre taken into her possession, Faanshi has allowed herself to begin to return to Atesh-Gah and her daily life therein. But while she has been trying to restore her spirit, it seems that the young seeress of Clan Messala who had told Faanshi of Lyre's demise in the first place has been experiencing turmoil of her own, centered around the Warlord who has become her guardian.... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Afternoon Date on Aether: Sunday, April 14, 3907. Year on Earth: 1507 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waning Crescent Season: Spring Weather: Rain Temperature: Cool *==========================================================================* Secluded Grotto - Atesh-Gah Garden - Haven Cupped within the delicate palms of serenity, this miniature grotto offers a shelter away from the pressing demands of Atesh-Gah. Surrounded within the velvety, quiet confines of billowing cypress and the weeping leaves of willows, reality is left far behind. A flirty, intoxicating fragrance drifts lazily throughout, brought forth from the sprinking of powdered jasmine, creamy azalea, and a variety of other flourishing blossoms which have taken root here. Half-hidden within a dense gathering of thriving, fanning ferns is revealed a statue of unblemished white marble. Etched with a talented hand from long past, care has been taken reveal the likeness of Ushas, Goddess of Mercy, mother of Khalid Atar. Smooth, globular stones of slate hue have been hollowed and placed within an arc formation about the sculpture for ritual offerings. Interwoven, and within the clutches of iron shapings, are brazier stands of a few feet in height, a rippling of flames licking the bellies of each. The lush underfooting of grass carpeting offers, along with a scattering of modest boulders, a few pleasant spots for rest and relaxation. Creeping unobtrusively through this surreal enclosure are the persistant trailings of ivy, vines tangling with the every surface. Contents: Delilah Kosha Obvious exits: Fountain She might have been spending a good amount of her time in the Amir-al's temple as of late, deep in prayer and meditation. She might have found it difficult to gain any kind of comfort at the shrine of Ushas. But this doesn't mean that Faanshi has stopped seeking it; indeed, on this spring afternoon, a time at which it is safe to assume that the Ushasti may not be present, the halfbreed shudra has come to immerse herself in prayer. To Khalid she has been praying for strength and discipline; to his Holy Mother, however, Faanshi prays for peace and mercy for the soul of the Mongrel man she loved. She kneels now before the shrine of the Lady of the Dawn, a small bier lit before her, towards which she now gazes with a strange rapt fascination, as if the tiny fire has become her source of consolation. Delilah stumbles onto the shrine, having been poking around the fountain in search of a nice quiet spot. She makes no try at being quiet, and, finding herself intruding on someone, she turns away, not recognizing Faanshi. Delilah Smaller than most of her peers, Delilah is something uncommon in the Varati race; Diminutive. She looks to be at least half her age. Not that she is weak! But what she lacks in physical stregnth, she more than makes up for it with will-power and the superb stregnth of her magic. Her facial features, in contrast to the usual woman's, are almost as sharp as a razor. her eyes are like the smoke from a divine fire, captured and held withen a spacious prision, filled with a distant look at times and then a Knowing one at other. She is wearing the tradition silk garments of a Varati woman, the silks various shades of blue and silver, shouting her affiliation with Clan Messala proudly. The steps of the troubled young girl are more than enough to alert both Faanshi and the dog that's been quietly lying near her. Kosha whurfs softly, and his mistress peeks up in startlement above her veil -- only to freeze as she realizes who has come in search of the peace of the shrine. "Imphada... I... Delilah?" she speaks up. Her voice is hoarse, but it softens with concern. As SHE realizes who it was, Delilah turns, her eyes a mixture of strain, embarrassment and a touch of fright. "Faanshi?" she says, sounding surprised. She ignores the dog, although she will pet him later, just as soon as she gets her right mind. Straightening slightly, though she does not rise from her kneeling position, Faanshi peers over liquidly at the clearly distraught girl. "It is I," she assures, though her brow remains furrowed beneath the edge of her scarlet sari. "Im... Delilah, are you... are you all right?" Just behind her Kosha flicks an ear, dark canine eyes curious as he watches the two females. One look into her eyes would answer that question. But the girl just slumps down, tuckign her knees under her chin in a rather lonely gesture. She fights back tears as she tries to find the words to answer Faanshi. "Holy Mother..." Under many circumstances Faanshi's sensitive emotions might be called a weakness by the Children of Fire -- but they also mean that the maiden's heart, burdened down by grief though it might be, immediately melts at the sight of the younger girl's evident pain. Rising, stepping over to kneel again before Delilah, the healer maiden unthinkingly reaches out her hands in an impulse to take the youngster into a comforting hug. For a moment, those sungolden hands of hers quiver -- then she tentatively touches Delilah's shoulder. "Can I help... somehow...?" Delilah's head rises as the hand touches her shoulder, her eyes meeting the green ones of the healer. "My magic..! " she begins, "It..it's out of con..control.. Its making me s..see things!" she says, "I..its t..twisting me! M..making me do a..and say things!" she says, not able to hold the tears back. Oh dear. Faanshi draws in a soft breath, and since Delilah doesn't appear to have protested being touched, finds enough bravery to squeeze the younger girl's shoulder. "Your power grows beyond your control," she murmurs, and it is not entirely a question. "Delilah, this... this is not something you cannot fix...! Has not the Imphadi Sumai found you someone who can teach you?" Finally, Dee's waterworks start to flow. "N..No." she says, "Su..sumai doesn't c..care!" she says, "A..as l..long as m..my ma..magic work, wh...why should h..he care?" she asks, between sobs, her head falling to her knees agian. Oh dear indeed. Her heart rising into her throat and the beginnings of tears of her own dampening her eyes in unconscious sympathy, Faanshi leans forward even as Delilah curls up. The shudra's sungolden hand remains upon the other's shoulder, and it even occurs to Faanshi to wonder whether she ought to try to coax the young seeress into her lap. Watching all of this, Kosha whurfs bemusedly -- perhaps the dog is confused to see Faanshi not being the one in tears for once? Just as softly as the hound's noise, the healer whispers, "Oh... oh, Delilah... the Imphadi Sumai of course cares... he is a good man, a just one... your Warlord and protector. Of course he cares!" And as she utters these words, it occurs to Faanshi all at once that she has spoken them from the heart... of a _Warlord_. Once or twice she blinks above her veil, though this goes unseen, bowed as Delilah's head has become. "Th..then why is he s..so c..cold?" Delilah asks, "S..sometimes I f..feel as if I w..were his p..prized wyrven. S..something h..he pet wh..when it does s..something good." She sobs, "He j..jokes w..with m..me as if i w..were his inferior in intel..intellegence!" She is on a roll, and continues to pour her heart out on the subject of Sumai. Now Delilah ventures into territory of which Faanshi is less certain -- for she is not, after all, Sumai's shudra. She has not dealt with the Warlord nearly so often as the young seeress has, and it is not really her place to speculate too heavily upon the man's character. Still, though... the halfbreed girl sighs unsurely, struggling for words. As they are when she works a healing, her hands are more assured than her mouth, gently patting and stroking Delilah's hunched shoulders. Carefully, shyly, she finally answers, "Delilah... the... the men of the Varati... are stern, from what I have seen. Warlords more than most. He may seem cold... but this does not mean that he does not approve of you. Surely he does not insult you...?" Delilah continues her sobbing. "H..he c..called me p..pretty" she says, "B..ut then he p..pets me as if I we..were Kosha!" she says, sounding a bit uncertain. The hound's tail wags back and forth for a moment at the sound of his name, though at the moment, Faanshi is too concerned for the younger girl to glance at her pet. This last outburst calls forth great consternation in the shudra's eyes; who is she, to try to analyze the behavior of a Warlord, even if he has been kind to her? It takes her several moments, during which she has to settle for continuing the gentle strokings of those shaking shoulders, before she can finally think of an answer: "I am... not the best woman to speak of such things, Delilah. Not too many Varati are willing to touch me." A slight tension comes up in Faanshi's voice for a moment or two, turning it stoic; this is the only acknowledgement she will give to her own loneliness and sense of removal from those who are in theory supposed to be her people by simple virtue of the fact that the Varati were the ones that raised her. "But... but the Imphadi Sumai has touched even me... it seems to be a sign of his favor, though I cannot understand why he should so favor me...!" Delilah looks down at the ground, at her feet, but the tears blur it. "S..so I sh..should be c..content to be t..treated like a d...dog?" she asks, souding disgusted. "N..not even o..on the s...streets w..was I trea..treated so!" she says, "I th..thought Su..sumai was better th..than that!" she says, crying agian. "That is _not_ what I meant," says Faanshi, tugging in a breath, not at all comfortable with trying to argue this, and growing more uncomfortable all the time. She can heal many a physical hurt with the touch of her dainty hands; she has also soothed a number of anxious, frightened animals, with strokings and gentle murmured nonsense. But this is not a frightened rabbit or cat. This is a frantic, overwrought young girl, and Faanshi is immensely out of her depth. Despite the contention of the very Warlord under discussion that she has strength by sheer virtue of her Varati blood, her own emotions are still extremely fragile, and they begin to shy away now from the force with which Delilah's outburst is assailing her. "I... I am trying to say," she goes on, squeezing her eyes closed as she struggles to sound calm, "that perhaps he does not mean what you think he does." The young seeress's knees are tucked under her chin, and her head is bowed, her veil streaked with tears. Later she will feel pride at the firmness her friend is showing, but for know, she is only a emotionally raught young woman, on the verge of total loss of control over her magic. "S..so he r..really f..feels towards m..me in s..some way?" she asks, lifting her head enough for her eyes to meet any that are willing. Her eyes regesture hope and a touch of disbelieve. She agian lowers her head, hiding her eyes and the tears. Too honest a girl to make a claim about something she does not actually know -- and too modest especially to try to analyze the feelings of so lofty a personage as a Warlord -- Faanshi can only murmur throatily, "Delilah..." And the name still tastes strange to her, though less so each time she utters it. It becomes easier to her with each soft utterance to think of her more as simply another person she knows, like countless acquaintances out in the city, and less as a kshatri separated from her by the gulf of castes. "I... do not know much... about the feelings of men... of _Warlords_, especially." The healer's eyes are there to be met, very full, very earnest. "I-I cannot say what the Imphadi Sumai feels, one way or another; I am but a shudra... a-and not a shudra of Clan Messala. I do not see him very much. So I can only guess... based on what he has permitted a lowly one like me to see." Both of Faanshi's hands rest themselves upon the young shoulders before her now, while Kosha experimentally cranes his furry head over and nudges at the girl, still a trifle confused that it is not in fact Faanshi curled in a ball of misery at his side. "But I... _can_ say... that I have watched... or met... four Warlords in my life and he is the most honorable of them all. He has taken in more than one woman who has suffered misfortune... and given them aid and succor in his Clan...! I believe with all my heart that if he has taken you into his protection... that he has not done it because he is cruel and would wish to hurt your heart." Her voice grows steadier all throughout these sentences she murmurs, and at the last of them her gentle voice has taken on an unmistakable conviction. As the dog nudges her, she stands her ground firmly, loosening up at the tactile contact. Faanshi is right, although the young woman's head is still bowed. "I k..know your r..right, Faanshi, But w..why c..can't I b..be content?" she says, reaching a timid hand out to pet the hound dog. Kosha nudges again, pleased; in the world as the dog perceives it, sorrow can be soothed by simple nuzzles, and acknowledgement of same means that he's doing his job. While the creature's tail thumps against the ground, Faanshi softly suggests, "Perhaps... because your heart yearns for a family and loved ones... and it is often difficult to see..." Uncertain territory, indeed. The shudra girl begins now to reach into herself and to try to put words to concepts she has never before been able to utter, and there is clear effort in her gentle tones even as she shapes her thoughts into speaking. "To see... love and caring beneath the stern faces that the Children of Fire present to the world." Delilah nods. "I guess." she says, weakly, the dog's nuzzling calming the emotional young woman as much as his mistress's words. She lossens enough that her knees aren't tucked under her chin, and she is looking up. And for a few moments, Faanshi simply watches the younger girl, as the insight blooms within her breast that kshatri or no, this little seeress in many ways is as alone within Atesh-Gah as she is. The thought makes a glimmer of tears shine in her eyes, for tears are easy to provoke within the maiden these days. "My heart-mother," she murmurs, her softest words yet, "was... for a very long time... the only person who ever hugged me. And even she... took a very long time before she permitted it regularly. But then... she welcomed it with all her heart. Such is the way of the Varati... at least as I have seen." Delilah loosens up further, "So you're saying give them time?" she asks curiously. While one would think that living on the streets would make one less open, in some ways, Delilah is way more demostrative than the average Varati. Certainly more demonstrative than gentle, timid Faanshi -- though here in the peace of this sacred grove, and after Delilah has all but trumpeted the shudra's freedom to do so in her face, the halfbreed maiden does not seem to hesitate now with her delicate and soothing touches. "I think... that that would be wise," she says, and though her tone is humble as always that underlying conviction is still there. "And... if your heart is heavy... if you need it... you may always come and speak to me." Delilah smiles up at her friend, her eyes expressing what her veil hides. "Thank you, Faanshi." she says, knowing just how much Faanshi will need the same. Her eyes are still red from her crying, but she is no longer a obvious emotional timebomb. "You are welcome, Delilah," is the heartfelt reply, and even though they are filled with tears she's unable to repress, Faanshi's eyes brighten ever so slightly in what at least for now is a temporary bulwark against her own grief. She even goes so far as to lean forward and slip her arms about the younger girl, squeezing gently. "You are welcome." [End log.]