"Sorrowed Grief, Sudden Guilt" Log Date: 10/23, 10/24/00 Log Cast: Faanshi, Tyler Log Intro: It has been a trial indeed for Faanshi, trying to learn how to bear the very thing she has been fearing for months now -- the passing of the man she loves, Lyre Talespinner, Mongrel, bard. The news has all but shattered the young shudra, to the extent that her teacher FallingStar has seen fit to have her stay in her herb-shop with her, the better to keep a watchful eye upon her and do what she can to help the girl bear her loss. Slowly but surely Faanshi has begun to regain a semblance of her daily routine, but it is slow going to say the least... and it has left her all the more vulnerable to acute confusion of the like brought on by _other_ Mongrels who confound her as Lyre never did... and over whom, though she is as of yet oblivious to it, her grief holds a power of its own.... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Night (Duskside) Date on Aether: Sunday, April 14, 3907. Year on Earth: 1507 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waning Crescent Season: Spring Weather: Wind Temperature: Cool *==========================================================================* A Moment in Thyme - Haven A multitude of smells mingle in the air of the small shop, combining from plants hanging from the ceiling or sitting on the shelves, or concoctions simmering over the hearth set into the side wall, or any of a number of sources. The wall opposite the hearth appears to be a work area of some sort, with a scarred table covered with tools, containers, and partially finished projects. The back of the shop is where all the finished goods are kept, it seems, judging from the full shelves - all organized with careful precision, despite how full they are. In fact, the entire shop is kept clean, the wooden floor well-scrubbed to an almost glossy shine. A set of chimes hangs near the door, jangling softly whenever the door is opened. Contents: Tyler Kosha Obvious exits: Private Quarters Out Tyler opens the door and enters from the street, accompanied by the soft sound of chimes. Tyler has arrived. Tyler Crystalline blue eyes, always running wild with proof of a turbulent temper, confront the world with keen, contagious excitement. Tyler looks to be in his mid-twenties, his features rugged and relatively handsome, fit for winning smiles and aggressive snarls alike. A quick shock of lemon yellow hair challenges the bronzed complexion of his skin in contrast, all shaggy and tangled after rather unsuccessful efforts by the mongrel to hand-comb it into place. Formidable in construction, cocky in demeanor, Tyler is six feet and two inches of adrenaline and abandon. His athletic musculature thrums with energy, reasonably combining explosive strength with curious expedition. Proud scars dance in sharp patterns across his powerful forearms and hands, while fresh cuts and bruises always adorn his knuckles, strictly exacted by his rough profession. Fitting snugly over Tyler's form is a maintained hauberk of chain-mail, through which a sky blue tunic can be glimpsed, the sleeves of both shorn off haphazardly at the shoulder for ease of movement. In a scabbard at his left hip is a standard hand-and-a-half sword, four and a half feet of sturdy steel. A serrated knife is also sheathed and located on the belt that wraps about his middle. The pants he wears are crafted from faded brown leather and his combat boots are worn-out, both suggestive of persistent action and movement. At last: the refuge of the shop. Faanshi has spent a good portion of the day at Atesh-Gah today, in prayer, in (bizarre an experience though _that_ was) actual or at least almost actual conversation with one of Khalid Atar's own warriors, and in attempted comfort of the one kshatri among the Varati people who has called her friend. But at last, knowing that her teacher wishes to keep close watch upon her, Faanshi opens the door to the herb-shop and lets Kosha in, calling out quietly, "Acarya, I am back..." As the hound scampers in beside her, the maiden peeks about the shop. No sign of FallingStar; she must be in her quarters? In the shudra maiden's wake, four bronze fingers wedge themselves into the door just before it manages to seal out the windy night. A vibrant blue eye peers in through the sliver of evening, curiously browsing the interior of the shop that may be glimpsed. When the door is suddenly heaved open, the chimes go absolutely crazy, dancing and singing their random song. The cheerful cacophony all but sends Tyler leaping out of his boots, and, as soon as he gathers his wits, he immediately forces a reproachful glare upon the chimes. Then the yellow-haired mongrel proceeds to saunter into a Moment In Thyme, rather like he owns the establishment. Kosha whips around, adding his own barking to the alert of the chimes -- and Faanshi very nearly leaps out of her sandals. Had she been carrying anything, she would assuredly have dropped it by now. As it happens, she simply has to keep herself from keeling over from fright right then and there. "I..." Ushas, her heart is hammering a mile a minute. Pressing a sungolden hand to her breast, the maiden croaks, "I-Imphadi, may I help you...?" Her gaze points itself downward out of unconscious, rock-solid habit; as of yet, she hasn't recognized this particular Mongrel man. "Uh-huh," sings Tyler with amusement. The tall mongrel's glare is forgotten. A carefree smile instead claims his expression. "I was looking for a ..." He trails off in mock contemplation, beginning to briskly walk a circle about the young woman. "... for a cute little healer," resumes he, pausing before Faanshi and letting a scarred hand rake through sunny locks. "Got any hidden in here?" he wonders, making a show of looking about the shop. She hasn't yet looked at his face -- but even though it's been months since she last crossed paths with this man, his voice immediately registers itself in her recollection. Faanshi's eyes go wide above her veil as she involuntarily looks up, and behind that blue silk, all color drains out of her face. "I... I _am_ a healer, Imphadi... as is my teacher... if you wish me to fetch her...?" FallingStar _is_ back there, isn't she? Is the Sylvan asleep, or engrossed in experimentation with her concoctions? She must be here, surely, if the door had been unbarred? He drifts closer. "Is she as cute as /you/?" he quizzes, gazing heedlessly into widened, leaf-hued eyes with his own electric blue ones. And as if acting of their own accord, Tyler's arms lift and actually reach out in a half-hearted effort to loosely wind about Faanshi's slender neck, assuming she does not wriggle away or faint. "You'd look much better without the veil," informs the mongrel, sending a cool breath of air to flutter the hem of aforementioned veil if proximity allows. Hey, now, wait a minute! At this sudden closing of the distance between his mistress and this Mongrel intruder, Kosha yurfs disgruntledly and now does his best to try to wedge his sizeable furry self in between the two. As for Faanshi, the maiden does indeed practically faint at this forward display, her nervousness turning to active fright. "Th-that -- that would not -- that would not be seemly, Imphadi!" she blurts, her voice rocketing up her range into a breathless squeak. Tears begin to flood those big leaf-green eyes of hers, for even though she has been praying for strength and discipline as of late, her grief-battered emotions are still extremely fragile. "I...I-I beg you, if you need a healer's assistance I-I-I-I will gladly help, but... but..." And she can't finish the sentence. Faanshi _can_ and does stumble backwards, trying to get away from the impetuous Mongrel, but she also starts to sob. The mongrel's knees come in contact with the muscular back of Kosha, restricting Tyler from nearing any further than he already is and keeping his arms from reaching the hound's mistress. He enjoys sending innocent creatures into distress with his devil-may-care attitude, but when silvery tears fill Faanshi's green eyes, his wildcat smile is dissolved into concern. "Hey," he murmurs, taking a gentle step in retreat, "don't cry--I was just ... just playing around." Tyler scratches at the back of his head, seeming all at once lost and awkward. "You remember me, don't you? Thought we were friends." Kosha punctuates the conversation with a low rumbling growl, but because Tyler does in fact back off, the dog doesn't seem to get quite angry enough to toss him to the floor and snarl in his face. The hound's mistress edges a few steps farther away, arms wrapping about herself, head bowed, tears streaming down her veiled countenance as though her heart is broken. "I remember you, Imphadi," she mumbles, voice still too high, childlike and fearful. Tyler does begin to get the tiniest hint of the idea that perhaps he is not the complete reason for the half-breed's tears. The little droplets of sadness seem to come so easily, but the mongrel is not known for his amazing powers of intuition--or even regular powers of intuition. "Sorry," he begins shakily, "I didn't meant to make you seem, ah ..." He stumbles for the proper description. "... uncomfortable. Look, I'm gonna leave, see? No need to ... cry like that." True to his word, Tyler blindly makes his way backwards toward the way out, reaching a hand out behind himself for the handle, his widened and apologetic eyes riveted to the shudra. "I... I can't... I can't _stop_!" Faanshi wails, her entire frame trembling violently now, as if she might collapse to her knees right there where she stands. She'd tried so hard to be strong for the young Imphada Delilah, to find the discipline within her that the Warlord had told her is part of her blood... but discipline over her magic is one thing. Discipline over emotions that have been fractured into shards is another matter entirely, and a thing she has not yet managed to master. "I-I am sorry, Imphadi... I can't stop... ever since he die--" And with that she cuts herself off sharply, a choking gasp the finish for that desperate admission. Just as desperately, she scrubs the back of a sungolden hand across her eyes and babbles out instead, "I will find my teacher, i-if you need a healer...!" The blond-haired mongrel does not quite make it to the portal when Faanshi's wail freezes him in his tracks. As if caught within two magnetic fields at once, he hesitates toward which to cling to. Finally, after a long moment of consideration, he takes a few /very/ cautious steps toward the trembling maiden, his rugged features etched with lines of worry and guilt. "I ..." He senses the grip of sadness honing in on him, summoned from just /seeing/ the delicate young woman in such a state--and, immediately, he shrugs it off before it can secure its purchase on him. Feeling hopelessly inadequate, Tyler does not know what to do! "... you ... please?" Perhaps if he could wrap her in a warm embrace, he could comfort the shudra, but wielding only words, the mongrel is desperately crippled. Tyler is not the only creature in the shop affected by Faanshi's desolation; the dog whines, ears and tail going down, and lays himself down at the girl's feet. There, Kosha simply stares dolefully upward. For her own part, the maiden jerks her head up at the young man's approach, looking exactly as if she thinks he is a wyvern about to pounce upon her. When he does not in fact do so she simply stares at him with eyes full of helpless despair, reflected and refracted by the tears brimming up from the leaf-green depths. Something in his expression must perhaps break through her shell of panic, for a fractional amount of composure creeps back into her voice as she rasps tinily, "You... wish me to f-fetch my teacher, Imphadi?" He shakes his head, sunny locks tossing back and forth, to answer Faanshi's tiny question. "I, ah, just came in here ... to see you," he admits with a voice that is still unsteady with the unmistakable weight of guilt. "Saw you and ... and Kosha ... outside. There's nothing wrong with me." There wasn't anything wrong with him /before/ he saw all of the precious tears, he means. "I don't like seeing you cry like that," Tyler suddenly tells Faanshi with a certain amount of conviction, clearing his throat and straightening his posture to confess with a momentary burst of resolve. "Can I ... help?" he wonders with a trickle of apprehension. "But you do not know m--" This is blurted by the healer maiden before she belatedly realizes that there are some circumstances under which a man may want to see a woman without really knowing her beforehand. Even in her innocent ken that concept exists, even if in the vaguest of terms; it drags her tearful gaze down to the floor and brings a hot blush to her cheeks behind her veil. While Kosha whurfs disgruntledly, made ill at ease by Tyler's attempted re-approach, the shudra appends lowly, "You cannot.... you cannot bring him back, Imphadi...!" "I know," says the mongrel, uncharacteristically solemn, "and I'm sorry that ... that he left, but maybe I could help you ... take your mind off things?" Or perhaps he should depart? Tyler glances over his shoulder at the door that, if passed through, might lift the weight of care from his unqualified shoulders. Slowly and uncertainly, he sweeps his blue eyes toward Faanshi. Unthinkingly Faanshi hugs her arms to herself again, as if perhaps they are te only source of comfort upon which she can rely, save perhaps the unhappy hound at her feet. Instinct and habit make her almost whisper that her grief is unworthy of this man's attention -- but she can sense the concern in his voice nevertheless, and because he is a Mongrel, she bites back the response she would have given a Varati man. "I... I do not know, Imphadi, my teacher h-h-has kept me very busy but I... it... has not helped much, and so I have been trying to pray for strength... she will be displeased with me, if I do not c-calm down and sleep...!" Shifting his gaze down to the floor beneath his booted feet, Tyler listens to the dilemma, his hand fastened to the nape of his neck, idly rubbing at muscles that have tensed since he entered A Moment in Thyme. Then, his brow knit with competing emotions and thoughts, he barely lifts his eyes, blond strands teasing at his vision, to murmur, "I'll let you go to bed, then." An odd blend of relief and regret floods in as he turns away from Faanshi and tugs at the handle of the door. Relieved, because he can flee and forget the melancholy encounter. Regretful, because there is an uninvited tinge of not /wanting/ to forget about the girl and her sorrows. A soft sniffle sounds from the maiden, as she furtively ducks her head away. Fetching out a kerchief from somewhere upon her person, she reaches under her veil to dab at her nose... and then she straightens up again, hands lowering and clutching the kerchief within them, to peer uncertainly at the now sheepish Mongrel man. "Forgive me, Imphadi," she says plaintively. "I-I did not mean to upset you...!" This, from the girl who'd just severely panicked at his unexpected flirtation? After slipping through the opened door with half his body, Tyler turns his head back in the shudra's direction, feeling whispers of wind slide through his touseled hair and rumpled clothing. "Hey, don't be sorry," he says in understanding tones, managing the softest hint of a smile. "Just feel better soon, huh? I'm sure your teacher knows what's best." It bemuses the maiden deeply that a man who seems at one moment bent upon breaching her honor can at the next moment turn gentle with concern. Faanshi draws in a breath, trying to remind herself that part of her is of the Children of Fire -- and therefore, part of her is, in theory, strong. She should therefore, she tells herself, be able to draw upon it. Tears still glimmer in her eyes, but their flow appears to have ceased for now or at the very least slowed; even as she straightens up to her full height, her bleak gaze is at odds with the stoic resolve she's trying to pull over herself as palpably as the veil she wears. The shudra clasps her hands at her breast, palm to palm with her handkerchief between them, and bows tinily. "You honor me... with your worry, Imphadi," she breathes. "But I... will endure." Watching the half-breed, Tyler wonders if her good-bye is meant to be some kind of courteous gesture or simply if it is standard, ingrained procedure. Whichever category it falls beneath, he doesn't get it. "Yeah," he says absently, adding a nonplussed, "honored ..." With that, the mongrel removes himself from the portal and it closes once more. [End log.]