"Comfort for a Child" Log Date: 5/20/00 Log Cast: Kasia, Faanshi Log Intro: It is not often that the Children of Fire must call upon the healing talents of a halfbreed shudra -- after all, the priests of the Amir-al are powerful and strong, and very few indeed are the Varati who would trust the touch of a halfbreed, no matter what might be amiss with them. This is a lesson Faanshi has learned time and again over the two years she has thus far spent in Haven; no matter how anxious she might be to serve her mother's people with her magic, there simply seems to be little need for her. However, this doesn't mean that there aren't some among the Varati who would not turn away the touch of _any_ healer's hand. Some lowly ones whose masters might not dismiss them as unworthy of any more 'pure' a healer than one whose father was not Varati. And some who in childish innocence and need will gladly take any help they can get... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Night (Dawnside) Date on Aether: Sunday, July 4, 3906. Year on Earth: 1506 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waning Crescent Season: Summer Weather: Sprinkling Rain Temperature: Comfortable *==========================================================================* 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: Kasia Obvious exits: Temple Fountain Out Entrance Foyer Stables Kasia basically stumbles from the holy temple. Whilst that in itself is not really all that unusual for the clumsy little girl, the fact that she's out this early is. For all that she's a night-owl, she does need some semblance of sleep and it's doubtful she'll get to her chores /early/. Who in their right mind /would/? Bleary, odd, sapphire optics glance hectically around, obviously looking for something. Jerking, haulting steps are taken toward the main embassy building as she starts out across the dew-specked lawn. Healer FAanshi. That's who she seeks. If only she can keep her mind on /that/ and not the horrible pain in her knee and the huge slice across the right side of her face and the already purple bruise that takes up most of the left side of her face. Who did you anger /this/ time Kasia? Someone large by the looks of it. It is, to be sure, a decidedly unholy hour. With dawn not yet approaching, only the most diligent of Varati are out and about -- Atarvani who must keep watch over the temple, for example, and of course the Agni-Haidar can be counted upon to _always_ keep watch over the great embassy which serves as the Haven dwelling-place of the Amir-al. But rumor -- at least, for any who care to pursuse such a thing when rumor pertains to a halfbreed shudra -- suggests that the one called Faanshi might well easily be discovered coming and going through the front gates at all odd hours of the day and night. Today, perhaps Ashur Masad or Ushas or their Holy Son choose to smile upon the wounded one... for today, the healer maiden is venturing out in the pre-dawn hours, her veil and sari carefully in place against the rain. Might that be her, that figure emerging on soft-sandaled feet from within the ornate front foyer, her form blurred by the dimness of the light and the sprinkling of water falling down from the heavens? Perchance it is, for all that the hound said to follow her wherever she goes is not at her side... Rain easily dusts the girl's saris with water so that droplets appear, soaking the fabric so much that in places drips can form and roll down the girl's dark skin. Not that it would much matter what color her skin was in /this/ light--flickering torchlight not meant to see much else but anyone's way in. Too-large zoris flap against the soaked ground, slapping across the saturated grass. For all of this, Kasia manages to ignore the weather, completely oblivious to all but her own pain and the fact that she /has/ to get to Healer Faanshi. Whoever that is. And stay alive with that person's wrath upon being woken up at this positively /awful/ hour. Kas is used to it, but will other people be? Most likely not, in this little theif's short experience. Some woman, however, comes down out of the embassy building, though in the halflight, Kasia can barely even make out the saris and the fact that she's /female/ much less /who/ she is. Step. Step. Step. Slosh. Slish. Slosh. Ever forward, tiring with every step Kas presses on. Faanshi has slept restlessly again this past night -- but then, that's to be expected, and the young shudra has gotten herself accustomed to functioning on barely adequate sleep. This past night her dreams have been fragmented, one moment full of worry for a certain Mongrel bard of her acquaintance set off on a dangerous quest and gone for how long... and the next, full of a kind of dread over surprises and startling events that have swept over her these last few days. Hold up your head, girl, she's been advised; you're a healer! Easier said than done, however, and it is with a wariness born of years of experience that the halfbreed maiden ventures out into the not-yet-morning. All thoughts of Lyre's absence, of Cynara's disturbing appearances in her daily business, and of bemusing encounters with a reckless young Sylvan abruptly shoot out of her head, however, when a sense that normally lies dormant within her flares to life. Someone is in pain -- and nearby. Summer-green eyes lift an abruptly alert gaze upward, and Faanshi peeks as boldly as she dares all about her to try to find where that sense of agony is coming from. Someone is in pain and for all that Kasia is adept at hiding it on her features, no one can counterfeit pain. Especially from a healer. And no one is better than Kasia at noticing when someone else has taken note of her. And in this case, it's Faainshi. Hardly someone Kas has to worry about if they're wandering about at this horrid hour, in the sprinkling rain. Water is shoved from her sapphire optics as a child's curiosity takes over. Yes, she's hardened. And yes, she's still only 9. She has the whims of a child yet, and Kas is entitled to her share of curiosity. This time, it takes those eyes of sapphire from the soaked ground to the soaked Healer. Flapping steps slow a little bit as her head turns to take in as much of the woman as possible. After all, who's gonna see in this light? And /something/ about her is drawing... Kasia Pure ebony locks, cropped short so as to curl under her chin, frames the girl's slender, almost gaunt face, all sign of baby-fat long since vanished. Crystal, almost sapphire eyes accent the tanned face, breaking up the smooth cleanliness that is now a part of the girl, something that, before recently, was never an option. Despite her still obviously emaciated body, full lips part to rows of beautiful white teeth that have miraculously stayed clean and now reflect a uniform cleanliness about the girl, sitting just above a lovely, rounded chin. The body of the girl is just the opposite, the body more of a working boy than a girl. A flat chest is a telltale sign of the girl's less-than obvious youth for despite her height, she's extremely wiry, her face giving way to horrors many have never been witness to. This gives way to an almost-too-slender waist, the whole of her torso looking far too like a boy's of an age at least 2 years older than she of 8.5. Still developing, slender hips sit atop long legs, though long at her age is relative for they're a good proportion to her stretched out body but seem to do nothing to assuage the short height she holds as her own. Long, lanky arms to match the legs below them are adorned with dexterous looking fingers at the end one of the few signs that this girl is a girl, all of which one would have to look closely to see. Clothes that now show signs of femininity still hang in sheets off her too-slender body. Replacing a grungy tunic and trousers, the girl now sports a sari of deep purple, draped elegantly across her body despite the fact that it seems far too large for her slight frame. Down and across it goes, falling near to the floor, unfitted to her short stature. Underneath, a layer of light gossamer in the form of pale azure just peeks out from under the flowing sari, the edge of it falling on the girl's zoris, ones that actually look fairly new and unsuited to her uncommonly dainty feet for they almost flop off of the appendages. Over top it all, Kas wears a haik, one of rough wool that disguises the girl as something not out of the ordinary, something she would much rather be. It covers the almost bright colors, to her, of her garb, only the merest hints visible through the dour, gray shroud. Over her face, just as any self-respecting Varati woman would wear, there's a veil of the same azure as her under-sari. It sheets her face so that only two glimmering, sapphire optics are discernible above its rim. The one ornate piece on her would be the golden chain that holds the shrouding veil in place, a glimmer among deep sapphire. "Merciful Mother..." There. A _child_. Around many -- indeed, practically all adults -- Faanshi is painfully shy, acutely aware that the slightest wrong thing she might do or say will bring down the wrath of her betters upon her. But for children, she has more bravery. Perhaps it is because she has seen so few of them, through most of her life? Regardless, the shudra maiden issues a horrified little gasp behind her veil as she catches sight of the small figure stumbling out of the darkness, and with a hurried grace she does not normally display and of which she is entirely unaware, she hastens to intercept the little one and kneel down before her. "Oh, little imphada," she can be heard to breathe in fervent tones, "what has happened to you -- let me help you...!" For all the curiosity in the world--particularly hers, the little varati-girl never expected this strange woman to be /kneeling/ before her. This from a girl who was raised on the streets. Who has never seen the fact that she /can/ be deffered to. She's always the one kneeling. Surprise widens her sapphire optics into huge gems in a face of darkness and wet. "But I'm not--" The tones aren't stuttered as they would be to someone that was indeed her superior. Or that she /thought/ was her superior. This woman is kneeling to her and calling her imphada. She doesn't know Faanshi's rank and yet something about the woman is trustworthy and Kas isn't likely to be one who won't notice that. "I just--can we go inside?" The last is a perfectly human and definitely childlike plea, a little note of whining in the voice. A slender, emaciated arm, weighted by wet saris, reaches up, swiping usuccessfully at the rain to clear it from those odd eyes of azure. Blue eyes. Faanshi is already aware that her own green ones are displeasing to the Children of Fire, and she is assuredly aware that lighter eyes appear to be the province of the other races -- aside, of course, from the divine gaze of the Hawk of Heaven himself. Still, seeing a juvenile gaze of that hue turned plaintively upon her, the maiden feels herself caught by a second strong wave of empathy, on top of the sense of pain she's already aware of from this little girl. "Of course," she murmurs in gentle assurance, glancing up for just a moment to the door through which she'd just come and then back to the child. "Can you walk, little one? Will you permit me to aid you...?" _Ushas, let her not deny me..._ Some children have, and it pierces the maiden's heart each time a child on the streets of Haven shuns her touch. Indifferent to the niceties of blood, her magic begins to roil just behind her palms, anxious to reach out and oliberate that pain it senses. "I c'n walk. Allus." Always. Kasia has always been able to walk and that's how she survived to meet Vrsa and live somewhere where she can sleep and not worry about waking up with her belongings stolen. Or not wake up at all. She was favored, but that doesn't mean someone wouldn't have taken her out. "If'n we's go inside, we'll see." Had Kas known that the woman was a healer, she probably would have said differently, but how is this ex-streetrat to know? Besides, it's cold out here for all that /Kasia/ is shielded. It's summer, sure, but the rain brings out the chill in anyone. Good thing that shield is completely unconcious. It's more concious to make it /not/ there. Plaintative eyes turn toward the embassy itself, then back to the healer-woman. Blue. From two browns. How /ever/ did that manage to happeN/ Softly but swiftly Faanshi nods, and then beckons inside with one slender sungolden hand. "Come then," she urges. "If you will permit me, little imphada... I can take that pain away, and perhaps we may find a fire by which to warm you?" Inside is good, most assuredly, and the healer girl rises to her feet as swiftly as she'd kneeled, to move to and hold the door ajar for the small hurt child. Kasia ascends the stairs to Atesh-Gah's sturdy double doors, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. Kasia has left. You ascend the stairs into Atesh-Gah, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. Entrance Foyer - Atesh-Gah - Haven The entranceway to Atesh-Gah is a marvel of Varati architecture and art; a half-dome rising from the earth to the heavens, appearing as if solid stone and seemingly made without reinforcing supports. It is but a shell of smooth, solid rock, made unbreakable by a combination of shaping and ingenuity. A long flight of stairs leads up toward the double doors of the throne room, while a smaller door down below and to the right leads to the back hallway. The massive space is acoustically sound, carrying each gurgle of crystal water from the central fountain throughout the entire room. Four couches of rich royal blue upholstery surround the fountain, providing a resting place for any who would wish to sit and speak; though the edge of the fountain itself may function in a similar fashion. Flecks and veins of bright gold streak through the pale marble of the walls, leading the eye ever up... until a breath-taking sight catches the eye. Above all else in the room stands Ashur Masad, the Lord of the ever-rising Sun, and father to Khalid Atar. Surrounding the glorious sun-lord is a vast mural of his son's accomplishments, a millenium and a half of legendary history. Contents: Kasia Tapestries Obvious exits: Royal Wing Hallway Throne Room Out "Ins'de..." The girl is muttering to herself even as the healing woman continues in after her. The comments outside apparently weren't heard for the girl merely wrings out the short, shorn locks of hair, gazing over the top of the soaked, multi-colored veils toward the Faanshi. Azure, crystalline gaze doesn't leave the woman as the girl asks a perfectly innocent and rather childlike question. Right. "I's hurt real bad. I's gonna sit. Why'd'y' wanna help /me/?" With that, she slides easily onto one of the lovely couches, back turned to the fountain in the middle. Kasia's quiet. The room takes care of that, carrying her near-mutter to all 'corners' of the room. A hiss of pain and protest escapes her dark lips as she settles into the seat, though some of the foreign pain lines are completely erased, some merely lessened by the change of position. On graceful knees Faanshi again kneels as the child practically collapses into her chosen seat. A look left, a look right -- and then, finding enough courage to be able to look the little one directly in the face, the healer maiden lets her own startlingly hued gaze meet Kasia's, sapphire to summer-leaf-green. "I know you are hurt, little imphada," she gently murmurs. "I can see it... and I can feel it. I am a healer, will you let me heal you?" Kasia nearly jumps with startlement at the healer's announcement. Probably only the fact that that would have caused immense pain holds Kasia down whilst her mouth gapes open at the woman kneeling before her. A healer! Kneeling before /her/! That's just not right! It's a good thing she's wearing a veil now..."A h-h-h-healer?" Now the stuttering comes out. Once she realizes she's in the presence of someone who /should/ be deffered to. "Ww-w-who are y'?" The girl manages to stammer out, her eyes holding a spark of fear now, wrapped up amid the lovely hues of azure that swirl about in her rather expressive eyes. Eyes that she can school, certaintly, but not ones that are cloaked now. At least, not obviously. They hold wonderment warring with fear. Fear is rapidly winning. Indeed, there are a number of people out in Haven who might agree with you, child -- many of Faanshi's Mongrel acquaintances have urged her to keep her gaze uplifted, and no less a personage than the infamous Lady of Thorns has as good as ordered her to do so, at least while she walks the streets and alleys of Bordertown. But this maiden seems practically modesty incarnate, for there is no resentment in what's visible of the veiled countenance facing the seated, wounded child, no annoyance. There is only a deep liquid concern, reflected in both those un-Varati eyes and in the shy voice slipping out from behind the veil of rain-dampened blue silk. "My name is Faanshi," she answers. A hand comes up, dainty-boned and sun-golden of hue, lighter than a Varati's hand should be though darker than most of the candala who dwell within Haven. That hand does not, however, quite yet dare to make contact with the huddled form before it. "I am a shudra, little one... a halfbreed..." This last is breathed a trifle softer, a trifle strained, but Faanshi does not let herself pause for long. The child is in pain and may well not care _who_ heals her, but Faanshi has learned the hard way that it is best to warn of exactly what she is before trying to heal someone who may recoil from her touch. "I can heal you... or fetch another healer, if you wish it...?" A near-jump once again renders the poor little girl speechless. Once again only her pain and what little training she has keeps her down on the couch as her eyes widen yet larger into depthless pools of pure, molten sapphire. Faanshi? The healer /Vrsa/ sent her to has been /kneeling/ in front of her? "F-f-f-faanshi?" The girl repeats dumbly, looking into the others eyes. Sapphire meets emerald. Just then, however, the golden hand reaches upward and, seeing as Kas can't afford to miss a single movement, this one takes her attention from the woman's eyes to her hand. Skin that's different from her own and yet even that skin-color hasn't brought her closer to her people. Colors. Phah. "/Healer/ Faanshi?" The girl inquires again, as if not quite believing what she heard. Which she probably isn't. A tremble begins to make its way down her body, probably not much easing the pain. "But you're a /healer/!" Kasia's a shudra, how can Faanshi be a shudra? The halfbreed part is disregarded as if it hadn't even been said, for to Kasia, all races are alike. She's not aloof and snobby like her brethren. Oh no. She's too smart for that. That's what gets you in trouble /anywhere/ but Atesh-Gah. "V-v-v-vrsa s-s-s-sent-t m-m-m-m' t-to y-y-y-you." The poor, frightened ex-theif manages to stammer out. And at those pitifully stammered words, Faanshi's chest painfully and abruptly constricts, tears welling up in her eyes in reaction. Never mind that someone might come along and scowl at her; the urge to sweep herself up onto the seat next to this child and comfort her is too powerful to resist. In a rustle of silk she does this very thing, opening her arms to Kasia and murmuring as she does so, "I am here, little imphada...! I am here. I will help you, in the name of the Amir-al and his Holy Mother...!" Now /this/ is something new. It isn't every day that the grubby little shudra meets someone who isn't completely appalled by the fact that she doesn't care what race someone is. Or by the fact that she scorns the silly saris and veils. The things completely constrict movement! Of course, these people don't have to go around stealing things or anything, but /still/. The mother-daughter thing--Kasia's urge to fall into Faanshi's arms is definitely great and the fact that the woman holds something of great empathy doesn't exactly hurt and yet deep, old-tied instincts scream at Kas to /not/ do this. Habit as well. Who is she? Kasia doesn't know that she's who she claims and yet, how would she have known Kas was in pain if she wasn't a true healer? And so, the little varati-theif starts to lean forward, but her hair falls foward as well, brushing at the scratch on her cheek and causing the girl to wince and pull away, slender fingers darting to her face to trace the air above that horrible gash. _Sweet merciful Ushas..._ Faanshi wastes no further time in trying to convince this waif to permit her to help her; clearly, this is one of those times when she must take matters into her own delicate hands. And thus does the halfbreed girl reach forth to gently but firmly draw the child against her, at the same time reaching down within herself and finally releasing the restless power prickling just beneath her consciousness in reaction to Kasia's pain. "Shhhh," she breathes, the sound almost as soft as the rain, a muted patter at best inside these fine walls. Aether flows, the wellspring of magic reaching out to enfold the little girl along with the healer's arms. Kasia resists, as any sane of her ilk would, her whole, emaciated body stiffening in response to being held captive. HOwever, she /has/ lived--off and on--at Atesh-Gah for maybe a year now and /usually/, those here don't want to harm and therefore, her rather sensible mind takes over and the once-ridged body once again goes slack, greatful certaintly for the comfort the healer's arms provide both in tangible and in the magic that Faanshi thusly puts forth. Though she hasn't said a thing--who would? It's Kasia, after all--the shhh is like a cool cloth on her fevered brow, thusly relaxing her so that, like the limp and vunerable child she sometimes is--those rare times when she lets her gaurd down--takes over, becoming completely maleable in Faanshi's hands. It's probably better the halfbreed took over. Kas isn't exactly good at taking the initiative within these walls. Beneath the surge of this magic, gashes and bruises and dull, blinding pain cannot long stand. The servants and slaves of Atesh-Gah sometimes whisper to one another that this shudra maiden has power to spare -- and it would seem that they are right. Battered flesh begins to mend itself. Pain dissolves away like sugar stirred into water, leaving in its wake a sweet relief. As she cradles the slight form against her Faanshi does not limit herself to magic, either; she also reaches up with a bit of her own sari, using it to stroke away rainwater and cracked, drying blood from the tiny face. It does not take long. The magic subsides after a hand or so of minutes, leaving the maiden at last to try to steady her senses... and keep her embrace deliberately, carefully loose. Perhaps the little one may yet bolt... Bolt? It's just morning and Kas hasn't slept all night. The girl isn't likely to bolt. A'course, the shudra has every reason to think so considering the fact that she was wary to begin with. A sigh of relief brushes past the girl's lips like breeze stirring leaves whilst it rushes past her short-cropped ebony hair. Shoulders hunch and relax after the effort of staying awake and upright amid the horrible pain is completely superfluous. After all, she no longer has pain. Subconciously, and in a daze, Kasia reaches one of those dark, bony, slender hands up to touch the right side of her face. There, nothing remains and though she wouldn't be able to feel it anyway, not even a scar is traceable. Miracles upon miracles! This is why Vrsa sent her to this woman, for she's of incredible talent and power. Especially if she could presuade Kas to even be healed..."Thank y'..." The girl's voice is weary and reedy and sounds as if it were going to give out at a moment's notice--barely a whisper in the breeze. "You are welcome, little imphada," is the immediate, soothingly offered reply. Faanshi herself relaxes ever so slightly, filled with relief that the little one has submitted to her touch -- and relief as well at the sheer sense of release she can sense from Kasia's form. The exhaustion within her, surging up to overwhelm the girl now that pain has ebbed away, is equally apparent to the healer; accordingly, Faanshi makes no move to try to make her charge get up again. Instead she croons, her soft voice far more assured for a child than it ever is for someone her own age or older, "You should rest now, and when you wake... you will feel much better, I promise. I will take you to your bed. Where do you sleep...?" This at least ellicets a little chuckle from the girl--something completely child-like. However, due mostly to exhaustion, probably, the chuckle ends in a cough that wracks the girl's body over. Fortunately, she gets it under control before it can wreak too much havok. "Yes...rest." Kasia manages to whisper and from the daze of exhaution that once again descends on her head, making her eyelids leaden and difficult to hold open she manages to answer the question. The chuckle? Because she barely ever /does/ need the bed that Vrsa supplies for her. "With...my master. In 'is household in...the temple." Yes. An Imam would live in the temple. Eyelids flicker and threaten to close over the sapphire orbs, but the strong girl manages to battle them open, already trying to stand up. She's got to do this on her own. She /won't/ be a burden to Atesh-Gah. The moment Kasia attempts to move, Faanshi's embrace slackens about her. She can sense the little one's weariness, oh yes, and she would willingly carry this girl to a place where she can safely sleep and regain her strength. But she knows well the pride of the Children of Fire; is not Pride, after all, the third of the holy surahs? So she does not complain as her charge begins to try to wriggle to her feet. "Carefully," she advises as she herself begins to get to her feet, nevertheless -- for Wisdom is a surah as well. "Would you like me to walk with you, to your bed...?" Never in a million years would the poor girl have dreamed of asking /anyone's/ help. That's a sure way to get a knife in your back at night on the streets. But she's not on the streets. She's in Atesh-Gah and this is a healer...and she offered. That's got to be something. Besides. She hasn't the pride most varati possess. It's stupid to have pride where it isn't due."Please..." The whisper once again makes it past her protesting lips. Better judgement goes against it. Lesser judgement almost always wins with Kasia, unfortunately. "I dunane thinka make it." Sleep and weariness, exhaustion and relief cloud the girl's voice and what she says doesn't eactly make sense, but surely the healer will get the gist of it? Nothing urgen enters into the girl's voice for all that it's morning and people are assuredly moving about already. None seem to notice the girl and her healer, though why not, will remain a mystery. To Kas at least. Bright Khalid let it remain that way... [End log.]