"A Ceremony of Death" Log Date: 10/25/00 Log Cast: Faanshi, Starfang, Izak, Katya, Hedeon (NPC emitted by Katya), Vlad (NPC emitted by Izak), Ashai, Okalani, Emilee, Jihaad, Asha Log Intro: For many days now, Faanshi has had to struggle with the most piercing loss she has experienced since her beloved heart-mother Ulima passed away: the news of the death of her beloved Lyre, the Mongrel bard. But even as she has been shattered by her grief, the duties set upon her by her shudra status have not truly abated -- and the one death she has experienced has been the meagerest of candles against the blaze of the loss of Clan Khalida's Shakir, Shahar, the Lioness of Khalida. So far as Faanshi has heard, none know the exact details of what brought about her passing... but Faanshi remembers how angry the Amir-al was when He summoned her into his presence to explain her request for an audience. And she remembers how the Atarvani commanded her to come and spend her humble power upon the healing of Khalid's own chosen warriors, his Lions of Fire... a task which hinted to her that Khalid might have had something to do with the injuries his own warriors sustained. Death, it seems, has visited more than just one humble shudra... and for all that she is not about to question it if her God-King's divine wrath brought about the death of the Shakir that same God-King had honored as a daughter, still, it is in Faanshi's heart to try to find as much peace from death as possible. Enough that she has accepted with a ready heart the profoundly personal and deeply unusual dream she had in the night of her beloved Lyre's spirit, coming to bid her farewell. But on this night, some nights after that soul-soothing dream, it will come to pass that Faanshi is not quite done with her encounters with death, at least for the time being.... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Evening Date on Aether: Wednesday, April 17, 3907. Year on Earth: 1507 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waxing Crescent Season: Spring Weather: Breeze Temperature: Comfortable *==========================================================================* Beach - Haven Soft sands from years of gentle ocean currents greet the feet of those who explore the expanse of beach that leads from the streets of Haven to the edges of ocean. The hushed roar of the waves can be heard, a lulling sound to the attentive ear. The sand stretches out for about a quarter of a mile and allows for plenty of space for pursuits of leisure. Depending upon the time, you may be graced by the awe-striking sunset, the peaceful glow of the moon, or the comforting rays of the midday sun. Several ocean birds fly overhead as if frolicking around and playing in the air, occasionally swooping down towards the ocean surface to retrieve a tasty morsel. The ocean itself seems to be calm and relaxing near the shore for several hundred feet before the sands slope harshly and drop. There, the water is safe only for experienced swimmers and boaters. There is a small path that leads towards the town that is paved with sand and lined on either side by flowers. Contents: Kosha Starfang Naglfar - Beach - Haven(#2414Je$) IC Note - The longboat Naglfar is currently anchored a bit offshore. There are a number of Hounds standing around the beach, as well, guarding the boat and preventing any incidents from occuring. Obvious exits: Path to the City Haven Bay It has been some time since the last time Faanshi came down to the beach -- and some time indeed since the last time she did it for any reason save sailor families calling her to them for help. Or lying ill in the care of a particular Sylvan sailor. Tonight, the maiden is here for a much more personal reason. Her dog trotting smartly along at her heel, Faanshi ventures quietly out onto an unoccupied stretch of the beach, looking for a sheltered spot where she might perhaps be able to light the tiny bier she carries with her in her basket. Where she may let sunset's last remaining light touch her face from the west, and say her prayers to the Amir-al where the ongoing rush of the sea can soothe her spirit. Holding up the hem of her crude woolen dress with one hand, and rubbing her eyes with the other, a dripping wet Starfang walks where the crashing wave can curl up arond her small, stubby feet. Her eyes are closed, her nose turned to the wind so it might caress her cheeks. Occasionally, a foot lifts up to fling some mud into the sea. It's quite clear that a beach is simply _fun_ to her. Prayers of gratitude... not only for herself and achieving a measure of sorely needed peace, but also for the spirit of one she held dear seeming, so far as she can tell ever since a dream that came to her in the night, to pass on smoothly into his next life. These are the prayers Faanshi breathes over her tiny bier while tendrils of smoke rise up to meet her, a bare whiff of sweet incense scent against the fresh, clear tang of the ocean wind. But even as she kneels there in the sand, her head bowed and her hands clasped at her breast, the dog who lolls beside her sees the Sylvan passing. A little whurf rumbles in Kosha's throat, and his young mistress peeks up above her veil. Eyes that are not quite so strained as they once were brighten ever so slightly at the sight of Starfang's evident pleasure; then, soft and tentative against the sea's susurration, not at all unlike the smoke whose scent blends in with the salt air, the shudra maiden calls out. "Namaste'... chookma...!" Starfang's snap open, her foot flings some mud out into the sea once more, then she starts to head towards the veiled one greeting her. Calm languid paces take her out of the waves' reach, her toes gripping the sand as her dress is released and smoothed a little, where it needs no smoothing. A happy smile is returned to the greeting. "Faanshi!" Starfang Cold, hard eyes. Despite her freckled, upturned nose and her stubby figure, those eyes are most noticable on her. Burning with anger more out of habit than anything else, one would almost expect the green irises to turn red. Wearing a simple, wide, drab brown dress, her stubby figure is only betrayed by her feet and ankles poking out from beneath, protected from the streets by simple, durable slippers. About her left wrist is a surprisingly well-made bracer sporting a vastly less well-made dagger in its sheath. But it _fits_. Some might notice how the leather is shaped instead of sewn. Her long golden brown hair is held back in a string that might be a braid. Her tan skin is oddly clean for her appearance, but the foulness of her mood counters that perfectly. Covering the top of her head is a large dull green cloth, the end of which falls down her back almost as far as her braid. It covers her forehead and is held up by the pointy ears common to most Sylvans. Faanshi, indeed. Kosha straightens up a bit where he lies nearby, tail beginning a few hopeful wags, while the halfbreed maiden inclines her head in demure acknowledgement. The bier nestled in the sand just before her still sends its faint tendrils of smoke into the darkening air, and within its heart, a tiny glimmer of flame might still be seen to burn; every so often, it flickers when a breeze dips low enough to touch it. "Hello," she says then, shyly. Starfang drops down to her knees in front of Faanshi, digging her skirt deep into the sand. A not-that-absentminded hand reaches out to Kosha, making a bit of a scratching movement. Her face remains directed to Faanshi, though. "How're you doing today?" Oh good. Scritches! Kosha's tail-wagging picks up its pace, and the dog wriggles closer to the young Sylvan, entirely pleased with the prospect of getting some decent attention to the perennially itchy places behind his ears. Faanshi in the meantime quirks her head for a moment, something slightly bemused flashing across her eyes... and then she breathes, with a tiny hint of wonder somewhere beneath her soft tone, "I am... doing well." This seems to almost surprise her. But she doesn't linger over it long, going on, "And you?" Starfang grins, "Oh, I'm fine." Sharp nails hook behind Kosha's ears, touching itchy places, scrubbing them quite firmly, leaving an absence of itch, presence of comfyness. She cocks her head back and lets a huge yawn, displaying a set of pearly white pointy teeth. "You were wading in the water," Faanshi observes, a touch of that wonderment still somewhere within her gentle voice, as if something so simple as playing on the edge of the ocean is new and strange to her. "I did not mean to interrupt you... if you were having fun...?" Because it did indeed look fun. Starfang smiles at Faanshi. "You know, I reckon that beach will be there tomorrow, most likely. I know people who could make it go away, but I don't think any of them _will_. So it's not worrying me to not be out there by myself right now. You on the other hand, you're not always here." She grins. "I know you don't believe me much, but I like seeing you." How often does something like that get said to this shy maiden in her Varati silks? A sound of an indrawn breath might be caught, somewhere behind Faanshi's veil, and the halfbreed breathes, "You honor me--!" It's more than just ingrained servant reflex; that pronouncement genuinely touches her, and even brings a hint of a light into the big liquid eyes over the concealing veil. "Thank you... I-I am pleased to see you as well. I'm..." She pauses a moment, still profoundly shy despite recent newborn peace, searching for words. Then she confesses, "I am not used to people being happy to see me. Mostly...!" Starfang swtches her hand to Kosha's still itching ear, tapping beneath an eye with her free hand, "Because of that, huh?" She gives her head a shake. "It's senseless, anyway. With my people... you'd be honored instead of enslaved, just because you can heal." She shrugs. "But then, we don't usually keep any slaves. It's just... very different with those fire-siblings." A soft sigh marks her disproval of that difference, as well as a measure of resignation to it. That's the way the world is. One little Starfang doesn't change a world. Izak has arrived. Katya walks down the winding path from Haven and steps onto the beach. Katya has arrived. "But I am not a slave," Faanshi points out, very softly, to Starfang. "I am a shudra... a servant. It is my place to serve, yes... but there is honor in good service." She and Starfang are -- well, Faanshi is kneeling, Starfang plopped down nearby in the sand, the dog Kosha lolled beside them. A small bier of incense sends sweet tendrils of smoke into the air, just before the shudra maiden in Varati silks. "I know that healers are honored among the Sylvans, yes... but... I do not seek honor. I only seek to heal." Starfang frowns a little, shrugs. "I guess one needs to be Varati to really get the difference. I don't really see it very well. Don't have to much, either. I never need to know if it's alright for me to spit on people, since I just ... hrm... spit on them as I please." She giggles, as if that's a good joke. In the setting sun of the clear, cloudless evening, fall shadows fall on the sand, behind the shapes of the two unlike healers. Yet hardly a sound passes as the four icy-pale Najada march from the city upon the beach, a look of pride and determination on all of their faces. Little attention is given to the comparison of races and ideologies as they make their way towards the sea, leaving faint traces in the sand. The leader of this odd quartet is the Najskor himself, one hand resting lightly upon the hilt of the dagger at his hip. Izak's countenance seems chipped from stone, but in his pale blue eyes there blazes a veritable fire. Not a glance is given to the two women upon the sands, rather, he seems intent on reaching the water. Kosha sees the newcomers passing before Faanshi does, and the big hound's whurf rumbles softly in his throat as they go by. But since they do not come near his young mistress, the creature stays contentedly put; besides, he's being scritched by Starfang, and this is not a situation he desires to change any time in the foreseeable future. Faanshi upon hearing Kosha's small warning -- and then upon catching a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of those who pass -- peeks shyly above her veil in their direction and might be heard by her Sylvan companion to breathe in a soft sigh of startlement. Starfang's last observation momentarily forgotten, the shudra breathes tinily, "Are those... some of the ones from the north?" Starfang turns her head to the group, shrugging, "I guess. I can't tell." She doesn't seem quite as interested as Faanshi, turning all her attention (as well as her free hand) to Kosha. "'s none of my concern, anyway." she mutters as her hands move down Kosha's neck. At the side of the Najskor is a smaller, rounded female figure. Her head is lifted with pride, the last rays of the setting sun catching in her silvery hair. Never leaving the side of her husband, her paces are quicker to match his stride. One webbed hand is kept tightly to herseld, the other clutching reassuringly to a man -- or rather: an adolescant -- at her side. The boy is towered by the pillar of ice, but his chest is brough out, shoulders propped back to reveal the developing musculature. His free hand switches between gripping the long, curve dagger at his side and brushing over his bald head, as if to reassure himself that there is really no hair upon it anymore. Walking last in this macabre group is a tall man whose features resemble the Najskor's so well they might be brothers. Each step is taken in unison with the others, and less obvious to one's sight is the fact that they blink as one. And likely breath as one. Izak enters the surf, plowing through the cold water without a touch of difficulty. When about waist deep in the ocean, it is then he stops, and he pivots smoothly upon his heel to regard the woman who is his wife. Vlad, his brother, stops as well, and typically remains silent and apparently impassive. The northern Children of Water aren't exactly the concern of a humble servant girl of Atesh-Gah, either -- but still, Faanshi peeks timidly in their direction nevertheless, not brave enough to call them, but still curious enough to try to observe as much of them as she discreetly can. As shudra go the halfbreed does get out rather more often than normal, but still... these folk are a new experience entirely, and the same hints of wonder Starfang might perchance have glimpsed in her eyes and voice before linger in her leaf-green gaze now. "No," she agrees hesitantly to the Sylvan, "but... they are the first of the northerners I have seen... how fierce they look...!" Starfang nods to Kosha. "That's why I don't look all that interested." she murmurs softly. Her nails dig into Kosha's back, rubbing as much as scratching. Unlike the stride of the three warriors around her, Katya's step is more feminine, graceful, almost lofty. Body swaying with each step, her webbed feet barely touch the sand around her. The waves splash against her calves as she follows into the water, but do not hinder the Najada woman to meet her husband's side. Finally letting go of Hedeon's hand, leaving the adolescant to himself in this moment, she turns to face Izak likewise, looking up to him with an expectant, intense peer of cold, frosty blue eyes. *The time has come. We are ready.* The simple thoughts of conviction only echo in the minds of the four Najada, letting the image of a strong, virile blue man within the waves appear in their minds. Faanshi is, primarily, an innocent even if she has spent well over a year now venturing through the streets of Haven looking for people who need her healing power. But there's one thing she has managed to learn, long before she ever set foot in the city -- and that is if you do not wish to attract the attention of the wyvern, you do not walk up and wave a torch in its face. Bobbing her head in understanding to Starfang, she lowers her gaze down to the dog and joins her companion in scritching Kosha's fur. This is just fine with Kosha, who wags his tail all the more vigorously now. But in the meantime Faanshi murmurs softly, "I have not... seen too many Atlanteans. I've healed a couple... and my teacher is teaching one now. But that's it...!" There might well be no one else in this world for all the attention that Izak seems to give his surroundings. At the Telepathic message, there seems to be no response from the man that is evident in his physical features. Yet in his mind is assent and pride. Then his hand clenches 'round the dagger at his hip, and in one smooth motion he pulls it free. The blade is slick, sharp stone, specially Shaped for what is about to happen. His free hand reaches out to seize Katya, cupping her head with a surprising gentleness even as he draws her in closer. Ashai walks down the winding path from Haven and steps onto the beach. Ashai has arrived. Starfang grumbles softly, "He'd best not be killing her with that. He'd best not be." She doesn't seem to be looking at all, though, instead continuing to look like she's immersed in cuddling Kosha. She seems to be perfectly calm, at peace, noticing nothing. Seems. "Sweet Merciful Mother--" Fragile as Faanshi has been as of late, she cannot help but react when that fearsome-looking hairless man seizes the woman. Color drains out of her face, though this is difficult to see behind her veil. Kosha whurfs again, at least partially distracted now from the attention the healers are giving him. And Faanshi blurts hoarsely, "Is... is he punishing her?" Sweet Merciful Ushas, do not let it be a death...! Faanshi is not at all sure she can bear witnessing a death. Not now. Katya does not flinch away from the touch, letting herself be pulled towards the huge Najskor. Cold blue eyes narrow down on the blade. With her chin still lifted, the water playing around her hips, she looks like a person frozen on the spot. Then, a cool, controlled smile spreads on her thin lips, making them seem hardly any more sympathetic. One arm reaches out, hand touching him on a bare shoulder, to draw him deeper inside the water. The tendril of thought she stretches out is brief, but clear, a lure of the deeper sea ahead of them. Okalani walks down the winding path from Haven and steps onto the beach. Okalani has arrived. Grinding into the sand, Ashai's staff makes a strange sound, it's metal almost shrieking. He approaches the beach and watches the strange gathering from a few dozen yards away, standing unmoving and the darkness of his hood hides his features and emotions perfectly... Four Najada stand in the water, waist-deep at the moment. The Najskor's fingers briefly rub at his wife's scalp, silver hair tangling around each digit and the webbing. Izak retreats deeper into the water, and simultaneously, the three remaining Najada warriors look towards the beach towards those gathering. Their eyes are not very friendly. Izak's especially. The dagger he holds in his hand is brought closer to the woman's throat, but not a drop of blood has yet been spilled. Emilee walks down the winding path from Haven and steps onto the beach. Emilee has arrived. Starfang sighs softly and rises, letting go of Kosha altogether. She doesn't seem to lack attention for the strangers anymore. "I'll be right back." she murmurs to Faanshi, starting to trudge through the sand to the gathering in the water. Her nose is raised more than a tad, her eyes narrowed. She doesn't notice any of the newcomers beyond being sure of them not being part of the group busy with what appears to be ritual sacrifice. Gliding easily deeper into the water, Katya seems remarkably composed, considering the man at her side is holding a dagger against her icy skin. She does not struggle against his touch, the proudly lifted head exposing her throat even more. Legs, having taken already a deeper shade, begin to paddle easily through the water as she remains close to the Najskor, one arm slinging around his chest. Her usually passive blue eyes shine with the light of triumph. Even as Starfang seems to decide to make this her business now, Faanshi rises gingerly to her feet, profound uneasiness radiating from her willowy frame -- veil or no veil, sari or no sari, this maiden's body language is more than enough to project her discomfort to the world at large. Kosha gets up too, not quite as synchronized with his young mistress as the Najada are with one another, but still the hound is sensitive to the halfbreed's moods. And the hound seems to sense now that something is amiss. Drawn by curiosity Okalani has come to the beach, all the way to the shoreline, her two personal bodyguards gathered around her. The young priestess' eyes drift away from the spectacle long enough to see the arrival of Emilee and her escort and a hand reaches out to the Shaper as her gaze returns to the spectacle unfolding. Lips are drawn tightly over her teeth yet her face reveals no further expression than awe. Ashai still does not move until Starfang does...he then looks around, not knowing anyone really...the foolish student....and the Order-Master. He approaches Okalani and stays a few yards away from her, his dark cowl catching the wind now as he stands, disregarding the bodyguards of the priestess, his gaze locked on her or so it seems... Emilee slips down the stairway from the streets behind her escort. Eyes glued to his feet, she almost run into his back when he stops and peers over his sholder at the small ward he was leading. With a small motion he directs her attention to where Okalani stands. Seemingly this is enough for the woman, she slips from behind the man and makes her way over to where the Priestess stands...looking more then a little confused, as well as frightened, she attempts not to attract attention, and so keeps her gaze lowered. Jihaad walks down the winding path from Haven and steps onto the beach. Jihaad has arrived. The triumph in his wife's eyes is reflected in Izak's, brightening with keen pride. Bloody this ritual may be, it is certainly not being done without consent. Yet what is he waiting for? Why does that knife hover in the air just inches from her darkening skin? His own hand begins to flush with a dark, bluish-grey colour, just as the bodies of the two remaining Najada are already mostly dark. Vlad, the brother of the Najskor, and Hedeon, the son, again turn to look at the gathering on the beach. Nothing is said, but every fibre in their being cries out warning. Approaching this group will not be met with friendly discussions. Starfang still needs some time to reach the group, yet doesn't seem to be slowing down at the sight of the definitely capable-seeming guardians of this ritual. It's quite amazing how much anger she can radiate just by gait. The water has claimed almost all of Katya, her dark body, gliding upon the waves, clinging to the man who seems about to kill her. And while there is no fear marking her expression, and no longing of safety in her gestures, her body is still shivering -- trembling with expectation. She has caught the impressions and emotions going haywire of all those not understanding at the beach, even caught Starfang's anger -- but she is ignorant of them. The only focus remains Izak and a presence that -- while it can not be seen by anybody else -- is still present for her. Waiting for her, and expecting her. Waves washes over Okalani's feet, doing no harm to the sandals worn by the Pasiphaean priestess who, in spite of the gruesomeness of this ritual, seems unfaced. As the Mongrel Hound at her side moves forward she only lifts a hand, stopping him with neither words nor magic, for it would just destroy the... serenity which is almost palpable in the woman who wishes to die. Izak is regarded, his features, his skin and at last the hand holding the knife which will take his wife and priestess' life. The small shaper finaly takes her place next to Okalani, her escort standing behind her and watching the ritual with what he hopes is a bland expression. Emilee herself finaly seems to get up enough nerve to lift her eyes slightly...her gaze shifts from the Priestess to the stalking Starfang...her first sign that somthing is truly not right here...but it's starfang...so this could be just a normal outburst...untill her eyes seek the waves. Her eyes widen as she spots the pair and the blade. There is a great deal of contrast between the two healers who had just been conversing by the dog. One is short, the other tall. One is brusque and blunt and straightforward, the other shy and gentle and retiring. One is a Sylvan, the other a halfbreed raised by the Varati. And while the one strides forward with confrontation in her eyes and displeasure in her every motion, Faanshi stands stock-still where she had been previously quietly praying, not very long ago. Her bier, still at her feet in the sand, finally goes out; the scent of the incense within it, nevertheless, lingers in her vicinity. But she has forgotten it now. She gazes with sharply liquid eyes towards those in the water, her slender frame gone tense. No, it seems to her, this is not a punishment; the woman seems to be... pleased? But Faanshi is a healer, and her healer's soul cannot help but recoil in alarm at what every sense tells her she is about to witness. _Holy Mother oh please let this not be what I fear Holy Ushas if there must be blood let it not be the blood of her life..._ The desperate prayer shoots through her head, and in its wake comes a memory of a dream, a voice gently encouraging her to be strong, but to that voice within her she silently wails, _I'm... not sure I can! Not now, not so soon!_ Katya suddenly pushes her upper body out of the water with all of her remaining force. Her head is thrown back, arms lifting high above silvery hair shining in the last rays of the deep crimson sun. The swift, fluent motion sprays more drops of water around her, letting Vladimir, Hedeon and Izak glimmer in a play of evening light. For a brief moment, her lips part, evoking one work, a mangled, barely understandible 'Now!' Yet it is not her voice which draws attention, but a vision she sends to everybody present, Najada, Atlantean and drywalker. An image of herself projected just a few moments into the future, the ceremonial dagger slicing up her throat. And the full conviction that she is giving herself in to this sacrifice, to the god that lures below the waves. Taking on the shape of a strong, powerful man, Vodyanoi has deemed her worthy and faithful for this final act, and is waiting to take her lifeless body into his arms and her strong spirit to the underground realm for an afterlife. A gentle breeze ripples across the surface of the dark ocean and over the sandy beach. A towering Varati clad in the uniform of the Amir-al's Lions of Fire. His haik stirs as the salty breeze reaches him. He inhales deeply of the fresh ocean air. Moving further onto the beach - Jihaad's jade eyes catch sight of the gathering near thw water's edge. He approaches to better see what is transpiring. Ashai looks after Starfang, still not moving a muscle, then he moves towards Okalani, stopping a few yards from her again. His staff makes a grinding sound again as he rests it's tip in the soft sand, the dark opening of his hood seemingly glued to the scene, sensing that something is about to happen, something he will most likely not forget. Starfang stops in her tracks, her narrowed eyes suddenly widening not in amazement, but _distaste_. Her face pales and for a moment, she seems even about to throw up. Subduing that urge, she does spit on the ground, indicating a small measure of how much she detests this which is delusion, and folly, and perhaps even a little sacriligeous. Swift as a serpent and just as deadly, the Najskor's blade does not fail to hit home. It steals life away quicker than one may draw breath, slicing wet and slick in a straight line from the hollow of his wife's throat to the tip of her chin. Izak's face is frozen and tense, eyes blazing bright with a fervor that is only reflected in Hedeon and Vladimir. Thin lips are pressed into a tight line. And then it is done. The killing blow is made, and crimson blood gushes out into the dark waters. But before the last spark of life may be snuffed and ushered swiftly into the afterlife, the Najskor bends to roughly plant his mouth upon his wife's. His last claim upon her before she is relinquished with honour and dignity to a greater force. Jihaad stops his approach short of the water as the blade slices into flesh. The sight does not seem to phase the battle-hardened Agni-Haidar in the least for has witnessed far worse and even participated in gruesome acts of slaughter himself. One less Candala in Haven to be bothered with. The Amil-al certainly works in strange ways. It might as well have been Faanshi stabbed by the blade, the way the shudra maiden jolts violently when the weapon strikes home in the Najada woman. Only the fact that she is not close enough to Katya and Izak to sense the extinguishing of her life keeps the shudra maiden on her feet now -- but still, the simple sight of someone being killed practically right before her eyes pierces her through and through. A choked breathless gasp escapes her, a bare squeak of sound. And then she whirls, her bier and her basket entirely forgotten, to bolt away from the beach and what she has just seen. _Forgive me Starfang I can't I just can't I can't stay oh Holy Mother..._ It doesn't take more than a breath before Kosha whines and follows her, and soon enough, the maiden and the hound are out of sight. [Aghast, heart-sick, Faanshi bolts all the way back to Atesh-Gah...] 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. Contents: Jihaad Obvious exits: Temple Fountain Out Entrance Foyer Stables Running is not normally one of Faanshi's greatest skills or even one of her better ones. But somehow the girl manages to pelt all the way back to Atesh-Gah on the sheer strength of what she witnessed at the beach; now, a good while later, still breathless from the exertion, she's reached the sanctity of the courtyard and has collapsed onto one of the benches therein. She sits with arms huddled close about herself, head bowed, the dog Kosha lingering anxiously before her and staring up at her with liquid dark eyes. Jihaad steps into the courtyard carrying a neatly folded bier and basket in his arms. Spotting Faanshi - he approaches her at a slow even pace. Stopping before her - he offers her the items and matter of factly says, "You left these on the beach." The dog skitters around at the Agni-Haidar's approach, and at the same time, involuntarily, Faanshi's head shoots up. Her eyes might be glimpsed above her veil, wide and green and full of the lingering shock of what she has just witnessed. Her newfound peace is still new enough that she cannot prevent the tears that have sprung up in her eyes during her desperate dash back to the embassy, but at least by now they've mostly dried, leaving only traces of wetness about her lashes. At the realization that there is a Lion of Fire before her with her very own humble possessions in his hands, she springs off the bench and kneels before him, blurting, "Forgive me, Imphadi... I did not see you... and... I did not realize I'd left them, thank you..." Her voice is still breathless too, strained as she struggles to regain her composure. Jihaad simply nods his cowled head to her as he ghands her possessions back to her. Again he speaks in his rumbling voice, "I did wish for any candala to taint your belongings with their touch." The maiden is veiled as is good and proper -- which is arguably fortunate for Faanshi, as this means that the way the girl's jaw drops at the warrior's words goes safely unseen. For an instant she's too stunned by the apparent decision on the part of the warrior that the touch of candala hands upon her belongings is a threat that overrides the touch of her very own halfbreed hands upon same to manage to speak. Then, peeking up just enough to see the items held out for her, she lifts tentative hands to accept them. And she blurts hoarsely, "I... thank you again, Imphadi!" Jihaad nods again, "In the future I advise caution be taken." "I will remember," Faanshi rasps in as much respectful gratitude as she can manage. Well, assuming that she isn't startled into blind panic again by blood sacrifices out of nowhere disturbing what had been her quiet evening prayers and a conversation with a friend upon the beach, she'll remember. _I have to be strong..._ It's her mantra now, and she chants it to herself even as she bobs her bowed head to the warrior and begins taking inventory of the contents of her basket, just to make sure that her herbal pouches are all there, along with the flint and tinder she'd used to light the bier and the incense with which she'd filled it. Jihaad turns from Faanshi and moves for the steps of the embassy. Two at a time he ascends the steps then opens one of the doors and moves inside. Asha steps out of the embassy and joins you in the courtyard. Asha has arrived. Jihaad ascends the stairs to Atesh-Gah's sturdy double doors, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. Jihaad has left. Asha emerges, bobbing her head and standing with eyes downcast as Jihaad passes, then flitting down the stairs softly and gracefully as any bird. Beginning to calm, though she is still badly shaken, Faanshi might be seen kneeling near one of the benches, riffling carefully through a basket set before her upon the cobblestones. Next to this rests a tiny incense bier, and next to Faanshi herself is her anxious dog Kosha, who looks back and forth from her veiled face to what her hands are doing, and who then promptly attempts to sniff at the contents of the basket. Asha glides over and kneels next to the dog, offering her hand to him to sniff. The approach of the older woman swiftly draws Kosha's attention; so too does it draw Faanshi's, though the dog looks up more quickly than the unnerved shudra does. "N... Namaste', Imphada," the maiden breathes, pausing to scrub her hands across her eyes while Kosha turns his inquisitive nose towards those profferred fingers. Asha pats Kosha on the head gently and smiles, and lays one hand on Faanshi's shoulder. "Namaste, Child." Breathe. Calm and easy, be at peace. At last Faanshi's heart, hammering as it's been since her mad dash back to Atesh-Gah from the beach, begins to settle down. As the older shudra touches her, though, still the maiden can't quite hold back a little gasp, the barest breath of sound behind her veil. "You are well, Imphada...?" she asks in shy politeness, even as Kosha seems to decide he approves of this new person and starts wagging his tail benignly. Asha smiles at Kosha and pats him, then puts her hands on both sides of his neck and ruffles his fur. "He is a good dog." she says softly. "Yes, I am well. How does the day find you?" Kosha pants happily, definitely approving of this gentle attention from this woman who serves Clan Messala -- and although it can't easily be told if she smiles, not with a veil so thick that the features beneath it are effective concealed, Faanshi does seem to subtly relax. "I am... well enough," she murmurs, and to her relief realizes that that seems to be more or less true. Asha is defintely smiling and it can bee seen in her eyes, although her mouth is modestly hidden by the opaque navy blue veil created by the end of her sari. She pats Kosh some more, then turns to her Mistress. "You are upset?" she asks softly. "I do not mean to pry, please forgive me if my attention is unwelcome." The halfbreed girl pulls in a long, slow breath, closing her eyes for a moment and trying to insure that the last few fibers of her composure are woven back into place, as much as she can accomplish. "I... it is only... I saw a death this night, Imphada... I have not... it has not yet left my mind...!" Asha blinks and her expression looses it's calmness. "This is a shocking thing, child." she says after a moment. "Can you tell me of it?" Shocking indeed. Faanshi peeks up above her veil, eyes still a little lost and ill at ease, though clear and green in the torchlit night of the courtyard. "Yes, Imphada," she murmurs, unthinkingly wrapping her arms about herself. "I was down at the beach... around sunset, to say prayers where I could hear the ocean's voice... and see the fire of Ashur Masad in the west... and there came... Atlanteans, some of the strange fierce ones from the north... do you know of them?" This last is uncertain, for Faanshi recollects that this shudra woman is new to her service with Messala here in Haven; is she new, too, to the city? Asha shakes her head. "No I have not met any of this race." She sighs. This city is full of so many candala - aggressive and rude for the most part - they do not know their own shame. Even though she is an innocent in many ways, Faanshi arguably has more experience with the people of Haven than many who dwell safe within Atesh-Gah's walls do -- yet, if she is aware of the paradox of the very innocence of her opinions towards them, the maiden gives no sign of it. To Faanshi, they are simply... other people. Whose ways are often strange and frightening, but nevertheless, simply other people. "These ones... they are not like the Atlanteans who live near Haven, y-you see, Imphada? At least... from what little I know. But I saw some of them... a man with a woman, and he took a knife, and he..." Her eyes shudder closed again, and she has to swallow hard before she can continue, "He... stabbed her, but she seemed to want him to... I... I ran. That was all I saw..." Asha blinks, quite clearly shocked and shakes her head. "How fearful." she sighs. "Still, perhaps she had dishonored herself in some way - as these candala reckon honor - and was too fearful to end her own existance." She shakes her head again. "What an awful experience for you." Asha puts and arm around Faansi's shoulder unthinkingly. More strangeness. Faanshi actually turns her head to stare in bemusement at the older shudra as she touches her, a tiny ripple of shock passing through her system... but with her emotions as fragile as they've been as of late, and with certain insights that have seemed to simply grown up within her because of a dream in the night, she isn't about to turn away this proffered grain of comfort. Still though, her eyes go liquid above her veil. "I... will... I must go past it," she murmurs. "But thank you, Imphada...!" Kosha, in the meantime, yawns mightily, displaying sharp teeth to the courtyard at large, and then lies down beside the maiden to patiently wait and watch. Asha smiles behind her veil and removes her arm, blinking slightly as if asking - What possesed me? - "Tell me, Child." she asks, still smiling slightly although you can't see it, "Do you know where I might buy herbs in this city?" Well, now, _that's_ an easy question. The abrupt change of subject is oddly bracing, and there's more steadiness in Faanshi's soft voice now as she answers, "My acarya, the Sylvan FallingStar, keeps a shop not too far from Atesh-Gah... and there are a couple of sellers of herbs I know in the Rialto, with whom I sometimes trade, if they have something my acarya does not have...!" Asha nods and a slight frown comes into her eyes. "I do not have any money." she confesses. "I must ask my mistress if she will make an advance since my supplies are running low." "If there is something you need, I keep herbs with _me_..." Impulsively, though profoundly shyly, Faanshi holds up the basket through which she had been riffling before the older woman came into the courtyard. "At least a few things... for teas and poultices... you are welcome to make use of them, if it could help." Asha smiles. "Ah, that is kind of you, Child. May it bring favor upon you! Hmmm." She lifts the strap of a large leather draw-string bag over her head and lays it down on the ground, easing it open to reveal bundles and packets of herbs, as well as a small mortar and pestle and a number of other items such as bandages. "Now let me see. I definitely need some comfrey and I could use a little willow bark..." The bag is rather bigger than Faanshi's basket, but something almost like pleasure lightens the halfbreed girl's voice as she is able to proclaim, "I have willow bark, Imphada--" And this, she is able to produce immediately, slender sungolden fingers diving into her small collection of wares to pull forth a small pouch redolent with that particular scent. "I have no comfrey with me... but rather... sage and sandalwood, and chamomile and lavender, and feverfew and johnswort. I can get more willowbark, though!" Not at all certain whether her humble offering will be accepted, she timidly holds out the pouch. Asha smiles and takes the bark with every indication of pleasure, bowing over it and murmuring "Bless you, Child." She stuffs it away in her bag and says "Johnswort I have - it is good for tonics and there was much of it growing around my Mistress' estate. Lavender and mint I can get from the gardens here, but tell me do you have any pennyroyal?" "Not with me," Faanshi admits, blushing a bit behind her veil. "I do not normally need to carry it, you see..." Too modest to come right out and say that she can heal most things she encounters in the streets of Haven -- and thus her need for herbs immediately on hand is small -- the girl says instead, "But I can get it -- there is some in my acarya's shop, and she gives me a share of the herbs when I work for her, you see...!" Asha nods and purses her lips. "Perhaps I can trade you something for it? I have some Mountain Ash bark which is good for the runs. I don't imagine that it grows around here? Or some cherry bark?" "We-ell," Faanshi murmurs, still more than a little startled to be having this conversation in the first place and quirking her head thoughtfully to one side -- coincidentally ducking her leaf-green gaze out of Asha's immediate line of sight -- "the nearest mountains are some distance away... so yes. It has to be brought in to the marketplace, by those who journey out to fetch it. Cherry trees..." Faanshi pauses, thinking hard, nibbling at her lip beneath her veil. And then she ventures timidly, "There are cherry trees not far outside the city, to the west, but you can't go too far or else you'll get to the woods where the Sylvans live." Asha nods and hmms. "I see that I have much to learn. I had thought of asking Mistress to provide me with a guard for herb-collecting..." She passes over a small bundle of spongy bark, tied with a small piece of twine. "I do not powder it until it is ready to use." she explains. "I find it is more effective that way." Gratefully Faanshi accepts the pouch, after making certain that her willowbark seems well enough accepted. Clasping her hands at her breast, the girl bows over them and murmurs, "I must go now to my acarya's shop, Imphada... the hour grows late and she bids me stay with her to sleep... for the time being." She does not explain why, not yet; such is for Faanshi's heart alone, at least within the walls of Atesh-Gah. "But I-I will be back in the morning to come and say my prayers and I will bring you the pennyroyal...!" Asha rises and makes a dignified, graceful bow of her own, although of minimal degree. "Blessing and Peace go with you." she murmurs. "Atar keep you in His flame," is Faanshi's earnest reply as she gets up, alerting the dog with her motion as she does so. Gathering her things together, the maiden then takes her leave... considerably more at ease than she'd been when she ran into the embassy a while ago. And in a small but meaningful way, reassured that even if she is shaken by death... she has a place and a purpose in life. [End log.]