"A Fragile New Accord"

Log Date:
	2/1/00

Log Cast:
	Hawk/Kiera, Thalia, Amipal, Faanshi, Ishani, assorted NPCs

Log Intro:
	Queen-Maharani Thalia Tritonides Khalida has acquired a most 
unusual "pet" that has turned out to be no pet at all -- in fact, it is
none other than the graisha halfbreed wind-mage Kiera Khalida, locked by
the full moon into her hawk form. Only by the observation of Kiera's shudra
Faanshi has anyone been able to have the hawk identified, and since that
time, Faanshi has been called more than once to the Queen's chambers to 
offer what little advice she can upon the proper care of the transformed
young woman. These are certainly not the sort of circumstances under which 
Faanshi had expected to have to set foot in the chambers of the Maharani --
nor for that matter under which she had hoped to regain some sort of 
contact with her mistress. But as the moon finally begins to wax again in
the sky and the shudra healer is summoned again to Thalia's chambers, 
Faanshi finds herself hoping that perhaps these circumstances might lead to
a reconciliation of sorts between Khalid Atar's chosen wife -- and the
halfbreed woman he's honored with his divine favor....

*===========================< In Character Time >===========================*
             Time of day:  Night (Duskside)
          Date on Aether:  Thursday, December 8, 3905.
           Year on Earth:  1505 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Full
                  Season:  Winter
                 Weather:  Clouds
             Temperature:  Cold
*==========================================================================*

You pass by the guards and enter the Queen's chambers.
Queen's Chambers - Atesh-Gah - Haven(#1694RAJh)
     A harmonious blending of Air and Flame: Empyrean decorating intimately 
  joins with the architecture belonging to the people of the Neverending Fire, 
  the union composing a symphony designed to sing to the soul of the Varati's 
  foreign Queen.
     Extravagant. Four pillars stand about the expansive room, equidistant 
  from each other, and hold up a domed ceiling between them. Upon this concave 
  surface is painted a night sky, points of light set against a deep-blue 
  backdrop. The flickering illumination from oil lamps plays upon the 
  gold-inlay of the stars, creating the illusion that they twinkle and shine 
  just like their inspiration out there in the heavens. Tapestries and mosaics 
  almost completely hide the walls and floors, each one telling a tale of the 
  Varati people through woven thread and coloured tiles. Finely carved doors 
  lead out to a wide balcony, peaked windows, covered with latice-work, offer 
  views upon the grounds below, and an archway supplies a glimpse of the 
  bedroom beyond.
     Elegant. Where the room itself is heavy and rich, the furniture within it 
  is fragile and graceful in appearance--crafted for those of the winged race. 
  The decorating is spacious and airey, accomplished with a minimalistic 
  approach in mind: backless chairs and couches, constructed more for lounging 
  than sitting, are placed about the chamber with low tables situated close 
  by. Frescos decorate the walls where the tapestries do not and upon 
  pedastals here and there are ethereal statues and exquistely painted vases.
          **Required reading: +view here/guards**
Contents:
Amipal
Ishani
Thalia
Hawk(#83PJXc$)
Obvious exits:
Out <O>

Amipal
        A tall, graceful young man, slim by Varati standards but well-muscled 
  all the same. His light chocolate skin and narrow features betray an exotic 
  heritage, but his dark eyes are alight with a spirit all too common among 
  his people. Long, raven-black hair frames his face, and his supple hands are 
  dusted with the white marks of cuts long healed. He conducts himself with 
  calm assurance, seldom betraying any but the most fleeting emotion, either 
  friendly or hostile.
        Today he is swathed in the utilitarian black of his calling and 
  office, voluminous tunic and silwar tucked into brown leather sword-belt and 
  boots respectively. A cruel falcare hangs easily by his side, its lion-head 
  pommel clearly declaring his allegiances, and a worn leather bandolier 
  crosses his chest, stored with numerous balanced knives. A haik of similar, 
  somber hue hangs from one shoulder, and his dark hair is half-drawn away 
  from his face by a simple back-knot.

Ishani
        A young Varati, on the border of being a woman, with deep brown eyes 
  looking out from a slit in her rather disarrayed veil. Wisps of rich 
  oak-coloured hair escapes from her head covering and speaks of a waist-long 
  lustrous hair.
        Covering her short figure is a wheat-coloured robe. The robe drapes 
  over her arms and goes down to the ankles where her feet is covered with 
  leather sandals. As she moves, the robe occasional reveals the dusky skin of 
  her arms. Her walk lacks the gracefulness that a fully mature Varati female 
  might display. Instead of swaying, she almost bounces as she moves, walking 
  on tip-toes and you can almost imagine her doing little pirouttes as she 
  moves from one errand to another

Thalia
     Calm and gentle aptly describe the middle-aged Empyrean woman. Gold hair, 
  like ripened wheat, have been lightened with runnels of white that will only 
  grow thicker with time. Delicate features, brushed with the fine lines of a 
  woman who has smiled often, tell the tale of the years gone; high, arched 
  cheekbones, a sweeping nose, and a soft mouth bespeak of a classical beauty 
  belonging to peaceful times. Anchoring her regal face are twin pools of 
  blue-grey like a glacial tarn; deep, and bottomless, one could fall into 
  those eyes and drown within their depths. Thick lashes crown the eyes, 
  lending them a serene benevolence.
     Dove wings, white and pure as snow, drape down the back, enhancing the 
  vision of protection and comfort. She moves with an easy grace, sure and 
  certain in her place and position. Her figure, still rather shapely for one 
  of their middling years, is covered by a sari of the deepest royal blue, the 
  color a shimmering mirage of lushness. Lengths and lengths of the finest, 
  subtly-patterned silks, trimmed with gold-edging, wrap about her form and 
  exquisite jewelry sparkling with sapphires and rubies decorates her throat, 
  wrists and ankles.

Hawk has found a pedastal that she prefers to sit upon. Her stay here has not 
  been without annoyance; the hawk upsets anything that might be knocked from 
  its perch. She hisses at anyone in armour who approaches too closely. That 
  hissing is combined with a wide display of wings and flared tail, snapping 
  beak and eyes that promise, at the least, pain. Toward women, she is much 
  tamer. Much more gentle, allowing that more frail race to feed and hold her, 
  to handle her and touch her. The hawk has, whenever she can, escaped the 
  bonds of gravity for a spin around the room, trying to beat her way out of 
  high windows, and seemingly confused by the painting on the ceiling. Then 
  she returns to that pedastal and sits, glaring at the Agni-Haider who keep 
  her company.

Thalia gazes at the hawk and worry etches lines across her face. A hurried 
  conversation with one of her shudra and the girl breaks off at a near run 
  for the hallway. When the shudra returns, it is immediately evident that the 
  Queen has sent for her resident expert on Kiera as the shudra has Faanshi in 
  tow. Thalia does not wait for Faanshi to prostrate herself, but immediately 
  strides over to the halfbreed. "Faanshi," she cries with traces of alarm, 
  "the Hawk appears upset. Is something wrong?"

Amipal stands at ease near the Maharani's seat, arms at his sides, his gaze 
  travelling calmly from hawk to Queen; when she moves towards Faanshi, he 
  arcs an inquisitive eyebrow.

Fortunately, it's not too difficult to find the halfbreed shudra if someone 
  needs her; after months of her dwelling in Atesh-Gah, a good number of the 
  shudra and naraki have learned that this particular maiden is exceedingly 
  useful to have around to mend the pains of all manner of everyday mishaps. 
  Royal servants are no exception, and Faanshi has been summoned with all due 
  haste. Though if she were asked she'd hardly claim expert knowledge of 
  handling hawks, the maiden answers the Queen's summons with all due haste, 
  hoping she'll actually be able to provide some sort of answer. However, she 
  is taken aback by Thalia's skipping straight to the heart of the matter, and 
  even as she attempts to make the proper obeisances anyway she blurts out, 
  "Um... has anyone checked the phase of the moon, O Maharani?" It _has_ been 
  a few days, after all, since she first learned of the uniqueness of the hawk 
  in Thalia's possession.

Indeed, the hawk is more restless than usual. She's studying the light as it 
  slants through the windows, and even the motionlessness of the Agni-Haider 
  seem to set her at unease. For long moments, at Thalia's worry, the hawk 
  seems entertained and only watches the Empyrean woman. When Faanshi enters, 
  the hawk shuffles her wings, stretching them out and refolding them.

Standing unobstrusively on the left of the Maharani, Ishani lifts her head up 
  from a conversation with another of the Maharani's ladies to watch the bird 
  curiously. She has grown to be more comfortable with the creature ever since 
  the Maharani had instructed her to tend to it. A finger unconsciously moves 
  to cover the scratch on her left hand which had resulted after an episode of 
  feeding the hawk some meat. However the eyes that watch the hawk is free of 
  hostility, instead there is something almost like fondness in them.

Thalia turns toward Ishani, her hands betraying an uncharacteristic 
  nervousness that displays itself whenever she considers or speaks of the 
  hawk. The hands twist about themselves as the Maharani asks her Lady in 
  Waiting, "Do you know the phase of the moon?" She glances around at the 
  others in the room, the visual pass taking in Amipal. "Does anyone?"

A servant's dilemma: to protraste herself before her Queen as all Varati have 
  been bid, or to try to attend to the hawk whose agitation is clearly 
  unnerving the consort of the Most High? Faanshi swallows hard behind her 
  veil, and finally opts to make as much of an obeisance as seems appropriate 
  to forestall the wrath of any of the fine-born folk in the room, then 
  straightens cautiously once more. And although she keeps her gaze demurely 
  lowered, having taken note of at least one male in the room, the shudra 
  ventures in an attempt to be helpful, "It... has been a few days since I 
  learned" -- that you'd captured her mistress? Er. Not exactly diplomatic -- 
  "that the Imphada Kiera was here... I... would guess that perhaps she grows 
  near her time of returning to herself, imphada..."

As a rule, the hawk usually waits until the Maharani and her entourage are out 
  of the room, before she picks the knots of the leather strands that attach 
  her to her pedestal. This time, she does not, but dips her head and opens 
  that cruel curved beak to worry the leather. For a moment it might appear 
  that she would try to work through the strands, but the observant might note 
  that the hawk instead bites the sections of leather near her own legs. And 
  her wings mantle again. Her tail flares and she lifts her head up again to 
  stare now at her recent keeper, Ishani. The hawk shifts her weight from one 
  clawed foot to the other, talons scrabbling on the marble.

Amipal returns his quiet attention to the restless animal at Faanshi's words, 
  his expression taking on a note of mild interest.

Thalia has been uncommonly flustered and nervous about the Hawk since 
  Faanshi's revelation a few days past that it was truly Kiera. She nods, 
  still wringing her hands.

The intense eyes of the Hawk always manage to defeat her own in a staring 
  match, and Ishani glances away to hear the Maharani's question. "The moon 
  will not be full much longer, Maharani. It begins to lose its roundness
  in the sky." Her voice is soft but bright. She had spent much of yesterday 
  sketching the evening sun and so has the fact readily available.

Thalia nods again as Ishani provides the needed information, the motion jerky. 
  "Is there anything we should do, Faanshi? I have never seen such a 
  transformation. Are there any special requirements?" Thalia smooths out her 
  sari, as if trying to make herself presentable. She takes a step toward the 
  hawk and then considers the stupidity of the action. Thus a few scant 
  seconds later, the Queen reverses the motion.

Anxiety rises in the hawk. She flaps her wings harder now, trying to lift off 
  the stand, but the jesses keep her tight to the pedastal. Her wings clatter 
  against the nearby wall, off-balance her so that the other wing slams into 
  the pedastal itself. And so the hawk quits that struggle, keeping those 
  extremeties half-furled while she looks over to Thalia. Then Faanshi. This 
  time the hawk cries, a light shrill sound, more like a call than a sound of 
  pain.

That call from her transformed mistress unerringly draws the halfbreed 
  shudra's attention. "Clothing, O Queen," she murmurs, taking the chance that 
  perhaps no one will mind if she ventures -- cautiously, gently -- towards 
  the restless bird. "Or at least... a blanket, so that she may be covered if 
  she is about to change back...?"

Thalia has not, apparently, thought of this modesty issue. After all, 
  Empyreans do visit public baths. She steps away from Ishani and Amipal. 
  Brisk steps take her to the side of the room where she speaks with the 
  shudra that fetched Faanshi. When her conversation is over, she does not 
  return to the original grouping, but paces at the side of the room. 
  Meanwhile, the shudra vanishes out one of the room's doors, to fetch the 
  required items.

The hawk seems not to mind Faanshi's approach. Indeed, it seems to salute the 
  shudra with its wings, then pulls them much closer to its body. That nearly 
  unblinking regard fastens on Faanshi for a long moment, then the bird drops 
  her head to nip /again/ at the fastenings that bind its legs. One small 
  covert feather rolls off the bird's left wing and floats on what is likely 
  about to be last natural flow of air in the room for a few minutes.

Watching the bird in fascination, Ishani wonders what such a transformation 
  would look like, certainly an interesting concept to sketch. She remains 
  where she is, just near enough to the bird to feel the gusts of wind that 
  the hawk's frantic flappings produce. Watching the strange actions of the 
  creature, she muses aloud. "I think it wants to be freed?"

Amipal glances sidelong at Ishani as the Maharani wanders off, then takes a 
  moment to meet the gaze of one or two of his principal guardsmen. "Best 
  behavior, men," he murmurs, in a tone of long-suffering indulgence. "It's 
  family. So to speak."

Well, then, no one appears to be forbidding her to approach her mistress. So 
  far, so good, thinks Faanshi to herself. "Namaste', Imphada Kiera," she 
  murmurs softly, one slender sungolden hand lifting up for the hawk's 
  attention. You know this hand, don't you? "Will you permit me to assist 
  you...?" Never mind whether her fellow halfbreed is able to intellectually 
  understand her again, yet; if Faanshi has learned anything from her 
  surreptitious attempts about Atesh-Gah to heal its creatures, it is what 
  tone of voice to take with a creature who may be wary of her.

Hawk's beak draws against Faanshi's palm, then she drops her head under the 
  half-breed's hand and dips her chin forward, to the side slightly. This 
  exposes th short feathers on the back of the hawk's neck, forcing them to 
  stand stiff and show the skin underneath. --Only for a moment, with the hawk 
  do this, before she shifts her weight again and nips at the leathers that 
  bind her legs. The hawk's wings extend, dip, pull in, all in a slow 
  impatient dance that mixes balance with motion. And perhaps the wings seem a 
  bit larger, the feathers there a bit longer. Perhaps the hawk itself seems 
  to be getting larger and a bit thicker. The bindings on her legs certaintly 
  appear a bit tighter than they did a moment ago.

The shudra has not tarried and returns quickly with a blue sari, three 
  blankets, underthings and for some unknown reason, a pillowcase. Thalia 
  takes these items, which appear to be from her own wardrobe and most likely 
  a ill-fit for Kiera. She carries the items over toward Faanshi, showing more 
  clearly than words the Queen's tension as this would be a task normally 
  delegated to a servant. Thalia stands, awed, as the Hawk moves. With a free 
  hand, she smooths her own sari again.

Amipal observes this most recent of the Queen's peregrinations with a shallow, 
  thin-lipped frown. Clearing his throat, he intones, "Ah, Maharani... if I 
  may..."

The Ladies in Waiting near the hawk slowly start to move away, and Ishani 
  finds her gossip companion retreating with them. She continues to stay and 
  stare though, her brown eyes widening as she is close enough to notice the 
  thickening of the wings.

Thalia turns and looks stares dumbly at Amipal. What ever subtext the 
  Agni-Haidar is attempting to imply, Thalia absolutely does not detect.

Amipal fights his frown into a polite, if half-hearted, smile. "Perhaps," he 
  adds pleasantly, "it would be best to greet your dear cousin from over 
  *here*."

That's that, then. Faanshi pull in a quiet breath, and applies herself as 
  deftly as she can to freeing Kiera's jessed lower limbs. Talons and the 
  sharp beak are of no concern; after all, if she happens to be nipped, she 
  can heal it. "You will be free in but a moment, Imphada," she murmurs, the 
  syllables delivered with a gentle confidence that hardly anyone within 
  Atesh-Gah hears out of her except her loyal dog.

And the hawk will allow these minstrations, holding as still as her changing 
  and now awkward balance will allow. For she is shifting, and the process 
  which started slow and subtle now speeds. Feathers of the body suck in, 
  seeming to be reabsorbed into the creature's skin. Her neck thins, her head 
  rounds, with the beak pulling into odd, somewhat flexible lips, and no 
  sooner has Faanshi released the bonds on the hawk's leg -- with the second 
  being much harder to free than the first -- then the legs are now devoid of 
  feather, and the creature crouches upon the pedestal, reabsorbing 
  tailfeathers and tail material, eyes rounding somewhat, and hair beginning 
  to replace the skull feathers.

Thalia looks blankly at Amipal, then says, as if she were in a stupor, "The 
  clothing. I need to give Kiera her clothing." An attack of nerves and the 
  Queen's mental processes appear to have shut down. This does not speak well 
  for future political negotiations. Yet, as the physical changes begin to 
  overcome Kiera, the Queen does take several steps away from Kiera, though 
  still holding the clothing and blankets.

Ishani tears herself away from the hawk's change with a great effort of 
  willpower. "Maharani, if I may?" Her hands reach out for the clothing even 
  as her own eyes keep glancing to the amazing transformation that is occuring.

Amipal murmurs softly under his breath, dark eyes widening at the 
  transformation despite his best efforts to the contrary; he strides the few 
  paces across the floor that will bring him to a position slightly behind and 
  to one side of the nervous Queen.

Faanshi peeks briefly over her shoulder, trying to determine the relative 
  positions of those within the room, and as she does she sees Ishani 
  gesturing for the garb that's been brought from Kiera's chamber. She has 
  spoken of what little she can think of will be needed -- now, she supposes, 
  she has but to wait for Kiera to return to herself. And see what happens 
  then. Still, it has been some time since she has witnessed this particular 
  act of magic, and she returns her gaze back to the shifting young woman, her 
  own eyes gone wide and curious.

Thalia absently hands the clothing and blankets to Ishani, though it is more 
  like the Queen drops the items and Ishani must catch as quickly as she can. 
  Her arms now free, Thalia returns to wringing her hands to release the 
  tension.

And the hawk embraces her 'human' form with the same eerie speed. Her wings 
  are their full broad length, heavy-feathered with the same hawk's feathers 
  on Empyrean-style wings. Kiera's hair lays wild and fresh down to the backs 
  of her shoulder-blades and, with a careless combing gesture of her taloned 
  fingers, away from Kiera's face. The face itself is a studious blend of 
  Sylvan and Empyrean features -- the fine bone structure that marks House 
  Augustus, colored and cast within a more Sylvan-style frame. Kiera's eyes 
  are dark, Sylvan, but with the same reflective unblinking quality of the 
  hawk who has recently watched the goings-ons here, and she crouches on that 
  pedestal with taut-lined, muscular legs, a tripod balanced by one hand 
  touching the pedestal's edge. This, together with her wings draping over the 
  sides, might lend a certain harpy-like image to the woman as she stares. As 
  she seems to finally make the mental transition from avian to 'human'. And 
  as this happens, so stirs a brisk breeze through the room. The winged 
  halfbreed blinks once, then, looks around as if she'd only now seen these 
  people, this room. Her gaze stalls on Thalia.

Catching the clothing in her small hands, Ishani turns around and almosts 
  gasps out loud as she sees a woman instead of a bird. Taking quick strides 
  towards Kiera, she pushes the clothing at the woman, hands shaking a little 
  from the magic she had just witnessed.

Thalia stands her ground now that the moment has arrived. Her hands still and 
  fall to her sides. Only a convulsive swallowing motion betrays her previous 
  nervousness. In her mellifluous voice, she says clearly, "Welcome home, 
  Imphada Kiera."

When the Varati woman Ishani strides forward, proffering clothes, the gesture 
  is not taken for the kindness it's intended. Concurrent with Kiera's wings 
  mantling, the air around Ishani becomes near solid and it, like some wave, 
  shoves her back and away from Kiera. Kiera herself drops off the far end of 
  the pedestal, grace within her wings' motion, and continues to stare at 
  Thalia. "You have brought me here?" As an afterthought, perhaps perpetuated 
  only by the presence of considerable numbers of large armed men, Kiera adds, 
  "Domina."

Faanshi goes silent now, drawing in a breath, unsurprised by the temper of her 
  mistress even as she witnesses it. Clothing has been arranged; Kiera has 
  shown no interest. So be it. Faanshi, her shudra, waits to see if her 
  imphada requires her.

Amipal slowly crosses his arms, nonplussed by Kiera's state of undress and 
  visibly less than pleased by her tone of voice. His expression remains 
  largely even, however, mild annoyance showing only in the faint furrow of 
  his brow.

Thalia betrays additional nervousness, but licking her dry lips before 
  replying. "No, Kiera, I did not. The Bard Gaelius brought you to me as a 
  present. I was hoping that since serendipity has brought you home, that you 
  might stay awhile and we could take this chance to get to know each other." 
  She does not leave the protective space provided by Amipal, but her words 
  carry easily to Kiera.

A low cry is emitted by Ishani as she tumbles to the floor, the clothing 
  falling in a disarray around her. It takes her some time to realize what had 
  just happened, even then, her eyes blink rapidly as she pushes herself off 
  the floor in bemusement.

Kiera looks over at Ishani, distracted by the cry. And as Kiera looks from 
  Thalia, those breezes strengthen as if they report to Kiera, by their 
  presence and their touch of that which they encounter, the positions of 
  those around Kiera. But the fallen woman is not injured and so Kiera 
  switches her regard to her perceived prison. To the ceiling first. And those 
  who might be privy to such might feel the strength behind Kiera's magic 
  surge. A roof, and walls, and a floor and doors constrain her. Unconciously, 
  the winged halfbreed fluffs out her feathers as if she must appear more 
  formidable than her slight height and considerable magic might show her. 
  Kiera steps around the pedestal and comes to the center of the open space, 
  gauged by people and walls and objects. Then she returns her study to 
  Thalia. "The bard gave me as a present. To you. And you wish that I remain. 
  Here?" Inside? Finally, Faanshi is noted. And around /her/ a merry breeze 
  flit, like a brief, invisible greeting.

Thalia glances over at Faanshi, as if hoping the halfbreed shudra might 
  provide her with a clue by which to answer Kiera in such a way that the 
  favored of Khalid will not immediately leave.

Faanshi's veil and sari are rippled by the breeze that flows round her like a 
  peal of laughter -- and for a moment, she smiles behind the silk that hides 
  her mouth. Perhaps her mistress is not all that angry, if that little breeze 
  can touch her. But the shy young shudra is only slightly less befuddled in 
  this alien room than Kiera is, and it takes a moment or two of trying not to 
  gape at the bizarrity of the Queen seeming to look to _her_ for help before 
  she thinks to blurt out, "Imphada Kiera... I-I do not think that they knew 
  it was you -- they did not know, till I was called to bring you food -- _I_ 
  did not know!"

As Kiera's winds course about the chamber, Amipal's already dusky visage 
  darkens just a touch further with the nascent prospect of being called upon 
  to sacrifice his life in order to protect an Empyrean from the wrath of a 
  halfbreed mage. The Amir-al is subtle and fickle in his whims. The softest 
  of exhalations passes his lips, and he keeps his attention fixed on Kiera.

Kiera
A Halfbreed. So speaks the hazel-brown eyes within fine-featured face, when 
  taken together with the Sylvan's pointed ears and the Empyrean's wings 
  stained an unacceptable dark mahogany-brown with only a few of flecks of the 
  desireable grey-white. Perhaps this woman is Graisha as well, for those 
  wings do not simply emanate from her shoulderblades, but rather draw skin 
  and tissue from the length of her back - shoulder to the curve of her lower 
  back. Like a hawk, she seems mostly wing and attentive eye when those limbs 
  are spread to extension of 20', her head tilted slightly to focus upon a 
  target. The slender 5'2 female body seems thinner still, aerodynamic in its 
  bone-structure and meager weight, hardly appearing able to carry the mass of 
  shoulder muscle so well-developed for flight. Further suggestion of Graisha 
  are the feathers - a few dark brown, a few golden-auburn, a few pearly white 
  - which are interspersed through the short-cropped brown hair of this young 
  woman, and the slender-boned fingers' housing nails that seem much more like 
  talons - hard and shiney and a muted amber-brown. Kiera's skin is olive - 
  lighter than the dusk of her wings and hair - and largely without scar or 
  score.

So now the windmage's eyes turn to fasten upon Faanshi, as if they must see 
  the woman who spoke the words, to sort through the meaning of those words. A 
  moment passes, then another, before Kiera's wings curl in slightly, before 
  the breeze turns into more of a amiable whisper of air passing, and before 
  Kiera looks back to Thalia. "This bard brought me in as a hawk. As a gift. 
  To you. And you did not know? Did he know?" Something feral lies under 
  Kiera's airy alto, in that last question. Still, she eschrews titles. 
  Thalia's nervousness has not been lost upon Kiera.

Ishani picks herself up from the floor, quivering fingers smoothing her 
  wheat-coloured robe down as her gaze remains on this woman who was once 
  under her charge as a hawk. Her clothing weaves about her ankles with the 
  disturbed air in the room and her veil struggles to keep her modest before 
  submitting to the wind and falling to reveal her entire face.

Thalia puts her hands behind her back, standing as tall as she can in the 
  shadow of the Agni-Haidar. "I would like you to stay in Atesh-Gah so that we 
  might talk." She grasps at straws, trying to make the suggestion palatable 
  to Kiera. "You can stay in your rooms. They are clean and ready or wherever 
  you normally stay, but, please, do not return to the forest. I would like us 
  to at least /try/ to be friends." She licks her lips again and attempts to 
  answer Kiera's second set of questions. "I did not know the hawk was you 
  until Faanshi told me a few days ago. I was going to have you set free, even 
  before I knew." Now, Thalia shakes her head. "I do not know if the bard 
  knew. I have not had a chance to question him on the matter."

In the first part of the month, after Kiera's been hawk for so many days, 
  courtesy comes slow and hard. Hell, Kiera's brand of courtesy is already 
  warped and odd and often misinterpreted from its intention, so this, 
  combined with the early states of waning gibbous moon, create a situation in 
  which Kiera is hard pressed, sometimes, to be civil. She hisses, an 
  expelling of air through parted lips, while Kiera's wings shake once, 
  violently. Likewise, the circular, circulating currents of air pick up to a 
  near wind, plucking at clothes and hair, setting tapestries to flopping 
  against walls and rumpling bedsheets and whisking curtains away from 
  windows. Kiera draws herself up to her inconsiderable height, her 
  oddly-muscled, tanned and nude form proud before this Empyrean who 
  personifies elegance and civility. "What is it that this noble .Empyrean. 
  wishes of the Varati halfbreed Kiera?" Brown eyes flash, pupils barest 
  pinpoints against the expanse of dark iris. "Does the .Empyrean. forbid 
  Kiera to return to the forest?"

Amipal closes his eyes for a moment, tightly, as if a sudden pain had struck 
  him about the bridge of his nose. "By 'Empyrean,'" he interjects politely, 
  "I assume you mean the Queen-Maharani of the Varati Empire." He opens his 
  eyes, seeking out one or two of the guards. "Was that your impression, men?" 
  There are general if uneasy nods of agreement.

Thalia's wings likewise flare as the air travels past. Her white feathers wave 
  in the breeze. "No, Kiera," she says, her voice calm, but sad. "I will not 
  forbid you, but I am not any Empyrean. I am your Queen. I am the wife of 
  Khalid Atar. I am now a Varati as you are and I would be your friend, if you 
  gave me a chance. Not all Empyreans are the same. I am a Varati. You are 
  Varati. You are Khalida. I am Khalida. You have wings. I have wings." She 
  wisely does not mention that Kiera is half Empyrean. "I wish us to be 
  friends, Kiera. I wish us to share our similarities. I wish for you to give 
  me a chance to prove that I am different, Kiera." The Queen has been caught 
  up in trying to show Kiera her sincerity and thus misses Amipal's polite 
  correction on her behalf.

This was about what Faanshi had expected, upon Kiera's inevitable 
  transformation back to her true form in the chambers of the one she has been 
  avoiding for so long. Still keeping respectfully silent, the shudra girl 
  waits where she's been standing ever since her mistress returned to herself, 
  risking only the occasional peek over the top of her veil; for the most 
  part, she simply waits, and only the tight clasp of her hands betrays her 
  anxiety.

Kiera, however, does not miss the correction. Her regard lifts from the Queen 
  to flick to the Agni-Haider. Khalid-Atar's Agni-Haider. Kiera stares, for a 
  good long few moments at Amipal, wordlessly, before she looks back at 
  Thalia. The lines of Kiera's jaws and shoulders have not become less severe, 
  but the air currents in the room become, abruptly, still. In the stillness 
  that follows, Kiera's wings shutter, closing against her back. "I do not 
  wish this," Kiera finally returns. "But you are the wife of the 
  Khalid-Atar," and the Khalid-Atar is the beginning and the end, as far as 
  Kiera is concerned. Any more words that would come become internalized. 
  Edited and forgotten.

Thalia glances over at Ishani and gestures her forward to offer the clothing 
  to Kiera a second time. "I am Khalid Atar's wife," says Thalia with 
  finality, knowing that the winning hand might yet be hers.

Amipal answers the halfbreed's stare with a brief, civil smile; the expression 
  fades as soon as she turns her attention away.

Seems the winged halfbreed does not care to be distracted by clothing, either. 
  She follows Thalia's gesture in so far as to derive the intended meaning, 
  then proceeds to ignore Ishani or any clothes. If Kiera's standing around 
  nude bothers Thalia, then she'll certaintly use that small edge; it bothers 
  Kiera not at all, and in her darker moments, Kiera enjoys flummoxing the 
  poor Varati that have encountered her bathing in the garden fountain. "The 
  Khalid-Atar requested that I remain near the city of Haven, frequently, but 
  not that I live within the walls of Atesh-Gah. Will his wife speak 
  otherwise?"

Faanshi, very subtly, starts. But whatever possesses her at the words 
  exchanged between her mistress and the Queen is apparently not, so far as 
  the shudra girl is concerned, worthy of trying to interrupt.

Ishani tries to blend in with the background, now fervently wishing that she 
  had retreated along with the other Ladies in Waiting earlier. Fingers 
  nervously twitching, she does not raise them to adjust her veil, not wanting 
  any movement to draw the attention of the halfbreed, Kiera. Of course that 
  was in vain as the Maharani motions for her to offer the clothing again. 
  Trembling slightly, the Varati woman bends down to retrieve the scattered 
  clothing and proceeds with them towards the halfbreed. Stopping two 
  wingspans away, not eager to find herself tumbling on the floor again she 
  finds herself ignored, to her relief.

Thalia shakes her head. "No, you need not live within the walls of Atesh-Gah. 
  I only ask that you visit Atesh-Gah as frequently as you did before I 
  married Khalid Atar. I also request that you and I speak to each other so 
  that we might learn about each other. I ask that you cease to avoid me." 
  Thalia lays out each of her requests clearly and slowly, as if checking to 
  make sure that their literal interpretation by Kiera will follow Thalia's 
  original intent.

Another hiss follows this. Kiera's wings stretch out and snap together again, 
  not off-setting the woman's balance in the least. She is a physical being in 
  the peak of health, and one well-used to considerable activity. "I will 
  return to Atesh-Gah, because there is one I would see, here." That breeze 
  snakes over Faanshi's hair and veil, lightly. Kiera then addresses the other 
  two requests and decides that if she's going to humiliate her name, her 
  beloved God-King and her clan, she might as well do it privately and not 
  publically - an inevitable consequence of Thalia's requests. "You wish that 
  I speak with you," Kiera eyes Thalia levelly, "And not avoid you. Then you 
  should have them kill me now, for I will never bow to you, and I would not 
  shame the Khalid-Atar publically."

Faanshi's heart lightens ever so slightly as she feels Kiera's attendant 
  breeze caress her once again. This coaxes her into peeking hopefully up -- 
  even as Kiera's defiance of the God-King's ordered deference to his chosen 
  mate is uttered. Oh Ushas. Silently, she lifts one hand to her mouth.

Thalia puts a hand to her chin. "Would you speak with me if you did not need 
  to bow to me?" Her blue eyes meet Kiera's brown pensively. "And why do you 
  find the action offensive?"

"Yes," Kiera is doing that right now -- speaking without that requisite bow. 
  "I would speak to you without bowing to you." Kiera, of course, chalks this 
  up to typical Noble Empyrean Idiocy, that Thalia couldn't see this for 
  herself. "I will bow to no noble Empyrean." This is one of those little 
  Rules in Kiera's world. She takes Pride to a whole new height, and a rather 
  dizzying and dangerous one, given her current circumstances.

Concern flashes softly across Faanshi's liquid leaf-hued eyes, but even though 
  her attention is now avidly riveted upon the exchange between the two winged 
  women, still she keeps silent. All she can do is to hope that her mistress 
  will not wind up provoking the Queen -- or the Hawk of Heaven himself! -- 
  into punishing her.

Thalia continues to rub her chin with her hand. "Would you hug me? We are 
  family after all. Cousins, as some would say." An arch look is given Amipal.

Kiera blinks at Thalia. Do /what/? To /whom/? In fact, that question is so 
  bizarre that Kiera blinks again, rocked into a long and silent stare, 
  instead of any answer. Then, like some child who has forgotten her manners, 
  she responds, "/Touch/ you?"

Amipal has been looking at the Maharani as if she's suddenly sprouted a second 
  head, ever since she cavalierly dispensed with the necessity of bowing to 
  her. At her look, his expression swiftly and wisely clears.

Kiera's not the only one startled by this. Faanshi's already wide eyes go 
  rather wider -- but unlike her mistress, the shudra halfbreed pulls back 
  almost instantly from the shock. She has seen the Maharani extending 
  astonishing kindness to all manner of individuals, even lowly ones such as 
  herself. Does it not therefore make sense that she would extend an even more 
  loving kindness to the Favored of the Most High?

Ishani also glances to Thalia, wondering just what the Maharani is thinking 
  of. She slowly takes one step away from the halfbreed.

Thalia smiles at Kiera, her expression and voice otherwise neutral. "Yes, you 
  do not wish to treat me with the respect Khalid Atar has decreed should be 
  given from subject to monarch. Therefore, I am asking if you would treat me 
  as you would him, like family. I am his wife. I am in all ways equal to him. 
  If you respect him, then that same respect needs to be given to me. You will 
  not bow, but will you hug?"

The winged halfbreed returns, uncertaintly, "I do not hug the Khalid-Atar." 
  And she glances away from Thalia now, /her/ regard seeking Faanshi's. Only 
  for a moment, does Kiera study her shudra, then she turns again to stare at 
  Thalia. Kiera determines that it would be a /whole/ lot easier to kill this 
  Empyrean woman, here and now, than to wrestle with these shades of ethical 
  greyness which are already beginning to touch a slight headache in Kiera's 
  mind. And giving the choice of /touching/ the Empyrean or bowing to her... 
  Bowing suddenly seems a whole lot better. *Except*, Kiera already swore she 
  could not do that. So, for a while longer, Kiera remains silent. 
  Considering. Frowning, unconciously.

Thalia decides to re-iterate, "I am Khalid Atar's wife. As you do to him, you 
  should do to me. I am perfectly happy to accept a bow as a sign of your 
  respect for Khalid."

A sudden memory crosses the shudra girl's mind: the daughter of the Maharani, 
  and how she had treated the God-King upon His marriage to the very woman 
  with whom her mistress now argues. "Perhaps, imphada," Faanshi suddenly asks 
  in a tiny, shy voice, "the Most High would... like it if you did? Hug him, I 
  mean--" And then she cuts herself off, slamming her gaze to the floor and 
  blushing vehemently behind her veil.

"Except," Kiera points out, finding a shelter in that infamous 
  literal-mindedness of hers, "A bow to you would not be given to the Khalid, 
  as being from me, but as being from you. So if I wished to bow to the 
  Khalid, to respect him, then I would bow to the Khalid. I do not think that 
  you would bow as I do, nor you are me, so a bow to him from you would only 
  be that. Not from me. And I do not bow to Noble Empyreans." Back to the 
  original problem.

Ok, the concept of Khalid-Atar liking hugs suddenly strikes Ishani as being 
  terribly funny. She quickly bites her lower lip, inflicting pain upon 
  herself rather then letting hysterical laughter come out of her mouth. Kiera 
  might take it the wrong way if Ishani starts to laugh.

Amipal turns his serene attention to a vaguely-defined spot in the middle 
  distance, and keeps it there with all the force of his will. Better that 
  than venture a thought into this minefield of proposed cuddles and 
  obeisances.

Faanshi's voice winds its way slowly into Kiera's conciousness and she looks 
  over at Faanshi. /Hug/ Khalid? No-she-doesn't-think-so, thank you very much. 
  Hug Khalid? Hug Thalia? Maybe, Kiera's brow furrows as she considers, Kiera 
  is lost in a bizarre nightmare in her mind and she will awaken. But no. The 
  walls feel too real, close in too tightly around Kiera and her wind, to be a 
  dream.

Thalia says again, like a teacher explaining sums, "I am not an Empyrean. I am 
  a Varati. Respect to me is the same as respect to Khalid. If you do not 
  respect me, then you do not respect him. He has decreed that we are the same 
  because I am the Maharani. My rank, my station comes from the God-King 
  Varati. I am Varati. You have said that you will not disrespect Khalid. 
  Showing me respect is the same as showing Khalid Atar respect."

Such is the result of a shudra speaking above her place -- even if she _had_ 
  witnessed Thalia's daughter reaching out with a gesture of affection to the 
  God-King, months and months ago. It makes a kind of sense to Faanshi; after 
  all, if the Maharani's daughters are free to embrace their mother's husband, 
  why should Imphada Kiera not be, if she is as a daughter to the Most High? 
  But belatedly, she also remembers that the God-King _had_ looked rather... 
  flummoxed. Perhaps she is wrong. Like Ishani, she bites her lip, but out of 
  embarrassment rather than threatening giggles. Her last thought before she 
  deliberately clears her mind is a plaintive, _Well, if -I- had a father I 
  would hug him..._

Thalia's soft clear voice adds, "Khalid Atar has decreed that I am a Varati. 
  Are you saying that he is wrong, Kiera?"

"No. You are not the Khalid-Atar." There. Kiera finds another little Truth to 
  speak. "If he says that you are Varati, then you are Varati. But you are 
  still Empyrean and you are still Noble Empyrean. I am no less halfbreed, 
  because I am Varati." There. There. Kiera mentally retreats to these Truths. 
  She shores them up around her like some little fortress, behind which she 
  might hide.

This interplay of words is almost as fascinating as the transformation that 
  had come across Kiera earlier. Ishani listens intently to the verbal 
  sparring, perhaps she might pick something up and practice it on others 
  later.

Thalia's even gaze pours over Kiera. "Khalid Atar has also decreed that all 
  Varati bow to me. Now, I am willing to say that as his favored subject, you 
  may hug me instead. Yet, if you do not show me the respect that Khalid Atar 
  has decreed I must be given, then in refusing Khalid's wishes, you are 
  showing him disrespect. Khalid Atar has decreed that all shall bow to me. 
  You have said yourself that to refuse his command is to show disrespect. To 
  show respect to Khalid, you need only to bow to his wife. I am his wife. I 
  am your Queen. I am a Varati. I am these things first and foremost. Is your 
  vow more important than the wishes of Khalid Atar?"

She struggles through this marching army of words, silently. Then Kiera 
  finally murmurs, quietly, "The Khalid-Atar knows how I feel. I spoke this to 
  him and asked that he kill me then, if he would. And he did not." Right at 
  this instant, Kiera cannot remember if he /specifically/ released her from 
  the obligation of bowing to the Queen, or not. "You are his wife. You are 
  Varati." These things Kiera will admit. She omits the part about Thalia's 
  being /Kiera's/ Queen, however.

Thalia says kindly, "He loves you, Kiera. He does not wish to kill one that he 
  loves. I do not wish that you be killed. I only wish that you follow his 
  decree. Bowing to the wife of Khalid Atar because Khalid desires it to be 
  so."

Kiera looks away, then. Stares unseeing at the tapestry on the wall. "This is 
  why I avoid you, will not speak with you, Thalia Khalida."

And that's the heart of it all, isn't it? Anxiously, Faanshi peeks once more 
  over the edge of her veil -- but only fleetingly.

Thalia sighs and lets the argument go. "Very well, from this moment forward, 
  you are not required to bow to me. I would rather be able to speak with you 
  than argue this point until the end of our days." Thalia gave it her best 
  try, but she is admitting defeat.

Kiera holds her pose for a moment, then looks back at Thalia. Her brow remains 
  slightly knit, and under a hooded gaze, Kiera seems to see Thalia again, as 
  if a new light has illuminated the Varati-Empyrean to show different angles 
  or shadows, a different collection of shapes to make Thalia's face almost 
  unrecognizable from the one Kiera held in her mind. Kiera draws in a breath 
  and releases it, then tries another before she will return a concession: 
  "Then I will come here, and not leave when the Agni-Haider come, to show 
  that you arrive."

Thalia smiles, the expression tender and sweet. "Thank you," she says almost 
  breathlessly. The words spoken, she takes a deep breath as if she not had 
  truly inhaled since Kiera began her change. The exhalation is savored and 
  with a quiver, the tension which had ridden upon her shoulders falls away 
  like melting snow.

A quiet sigh of relief comes from Ishani, so the confrontation is avoided. The 
  clothing that was offered to Kiera hangs limply by her sides, tired arms 
  unable to keep them in an offering pose.

Praise be to Ushas. Perhaps it is not a declaration of abiding peace -- but at 
  least this is something, is it not? A spark of hope kindles itself within 
  Faanshi's breast now, and she dares another tiny peek at the two central 
  figures in the room.

"Thank you," Kiera echos, perhaps unheard by her own ears as she looks again 
  toward Faanshi. The words might be meant for Thalia, or perhaps for the 
  shudra. Or for Khalid-Atar himself, if one would assume that Kiera prays to 
  the God-King.

Amipal lowers his head and touches a hand to the bridge of his nose, two 
  fingers massaging there in slow, soothing circles.

Thalia steps to the side, directly in front of Amipal. This action opens up a 
  wider path to the door for Kiera. "You may stay as long as you like or leave 
  as soon as you wish."

Ishani notices Amipal's motion and she almost felt pity for the poor man. She 
  idly wonders if the Agni-Haidar manages to ever get a good night sleep 
  without tossing and turning with worry at what the Maharani might do next.

Faanshi glances towards the door as Thalia speaks again -- but she doesn't 
  move. She will stay, or go, with her winged mistress. But still... despite 
  this girl's habitual timidity, there is that curiosity in her eyes, again. 
  And hope.

No sooner has the path to the door opened, then Kiera's body sways toward it. 
  But she remains looking at Faanshi a few moments longer before a blink 
  allows her, or prompts her, to turn her gaze away from the taller halfbreed. 
  Kiera then glances straight to Ishani and she frowns again just slightly. 
  Finally a moment of quiet speech: "You tended me. Thank you." Nothing more 
  but another glance at Thalia, while Kiera gives in to her fears and steps 
  forward, heading toward the door. No clothes, of course. Kiera forgot.

Unfortunately, Faanshi's magic is healing, not telepathy -- so she is not 
  entirely certain what that glance of her imphada's might mean. She chooses 
  for the nonce to bob her head in mute acknowledgement, a little glow in her 
  chest suggesting that the thanks might have been for her, but a servant's 
  pragmatism advising that she not take such a thing for granted. Nor does she 
  remain where she is as long as her mistress is in motion -- especially since 
  she's about to head out the door clad in no more than she wore when she was 
  born. Lifting a hand, she blurts out softly, "Imphada Kiera, we brought 
  clothing... from your chamber...!"

Thalia puts a hand to her mouth to hide her new smile of amusement. She makes 
  no mention of Kiera's lack of clothing. Instead, she walks toward Ishani, 
  smile still hidden. Passing by Faanshi, she murmurs, "Thank you for coming."

Amipal watches the halfbreed go, without comment. He seems inordinately weary 
  for such a brief interview.

But Faanshi's words fall upon deaf words. Claustrophobia is a harsh mistress, 
  driving Kiera quickly from the area, to the nearest window, door or ledge, 
  from which she can make her escape.

For a moment, a feeling of regret passes through Ishani as she realizes she 
  has no more hawk to tend to. But, oh well, at least she was thanked. A 
  half-smile appears on her lips and she shrugs, Kiera's clothes now crumpled 
  underneath her sweaty palms.

Kiera moves out into the hallway after a servant opens the doors for her.
Kiera has left.

[End log.]