"Katas and Colors"

Log Date:
	12/16, 12/17/00

Log Cast:
	Faanshi, Mehul

Log Intro:
	_One_ man professing feelings for her had been amazing enough to
Faanshi, but a second one -- who is a Varati at that -- is almost too much
for her to believe. Nevertheless, she has found the casteless Varati Mehul,
and much to their mutual astonishment they have immediately gravitated to
each other, recognizing and passionately responding to each other's inner
loneliness and pain. Faanshi has no way of knowing that this man is in fact
mad, and had sought her out with an initial plan of using her as a means to
find and kill graisha of her acquaintance, for graisha are the focus of the
madness that howls within him. But Mehul had not planned on Faanshi 
soothing the wildness in him into slumber; indeed, the desperately lost
child at the center of his soul has fallen and fallen hard for the maiden,
and now his only purpose when he is with her is to make himself her own
personal guard... and to do what he can to soothe the aches of her heart
as she has soothed _him_. His only challenge: to get her to be brave enough
to set aside duty long enough to take the time to learn his katas for
purging frustration and anger....

*===========================< In Character Time >===========================* 
             Time of day:  Evening 
          Date on Aether:  Saturday, July 21, 3907. 
           Year on Earth:  1507 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Waxing Gibbous 
                  Season:  Summer 
                 Weather:  Clouds 
             Temperature:  Comfortable 
*==========================================================================*

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:
Mehul
Tapestries
Obvious exits:
Royal Wing <RW>  Hallway <HW>  Throne Room <TR>  Out <O>

Faanshi hadn't quite conceived that the new duties given her by the Queen 
  would occupy so much of her time and energy -- but then again, she hasn't 
  exactly been able to give up her prior duties as well. The poor of Haven 
  still require healing, as do the few Varati who seem willing to permit a 
  halfbreed's hand to bring them their relief. She still has a student she 
  must teach, though she has heard as of late that the Imphada Maithuna Kerani 
  has borne a child... a fair argument for why the young priestess has not 
  contacted her as of late. But still, it requires investigation, and the 
  child to Faanshi's mind requires some form of gift, though for the life of 
  her she cannot fathom what a humble shudra could provide for a kshatri 
  child's comfort. She must wait for the Elder BroadShoulders to provide her 
  samples of the mushrooms that had been used to disrupt the ritual of 
  Invoking the Flame... and she must speak with both him and Grandmother 
  Tanith... and the Ettowealona... and the Apisachi.
It's enough to make her head hurt, but nevertheless the maiden presses herself 
  through the day, deciding she must attempt to draft some sort of formal 
  announcement to be taken around to the Sylvan tribes, and perhaps 
  distributed on the streets of Haven as well. She has acquired paper and ink, 
  and now as evening falls in Atesh-Gah, she has claimed a quiet place to sit 
  not far from the fountain in the great foyer, brow furrowed in intent 
  concentration as she struggles with the wording of what must be announced to 
  Haven about the new Varati Voice to the Sylvans.

While Faanshi sits with furrowed brow, struggling over the papers in her lap 
  and contemplating the forming of words to portray what it is she wishes to, 
  Mehul, ever strong, ever proud, stands at her side, hands clsped behind his 
  back, watching over her. He is her guard. He will protect her. He will love 
  her. Every now and again a brief smile and flicker of smoldering eyes is 
  thrown at her, and every once in a while his gaze slides over the scribbled 
  parchment. He can barely make any of it out.

He's been so quiet, so attentive, a constant presence at her side all day. 
  Half the time Faanshi catches herself starting, entirely unaccustomed to 
  having any companion besides Kosha at her side throughout the course of a 
  day... but the rest of the time, she finds a marvelous sort of comfort in 
  it. She's pointed out to Mehul's willing eyes and ears the location of her 
  teacher's herb-shop -- "that is where my acarya, FallingStar, lives... and 
  her new pupil as well, an Atlantean" -- and introduced him to several of the 
  merchants in the Rialto with whom she has become acquainted during her time 
  in Haven. There have been a few raised eyebrows at the sight of the 
  halfbreed girl with a _man_ in her company, but by and large the big 
  Varati's been greeted with smiles and amiable chatter. Questions like "Ach, 
  so th' 'rati fin'ly decided t' give Miss Faanshi a touch o' lookin' after, 
  have they?" "Known Miss Faanshi long, 'ave ye, lad?" "Ye be lookin' after 
  'er well then, ye big lad, an' come ye by more often. A friend o' Miss 
  Faanshi's a friend o' our'n, an' that's a fact!"
Now, though... Faanshi looks up, subtly reminded yet again of her new shadow's 
  presence. Green eyes peek anxiously over her veil, and the maiden asks 
  softly, "Mehul, are you certain... you are not bored?" That's seemed to 
  concern her all day, as if she still has a problem believing anyone would 
  want to spend so much time in her company.

And he has responded pleasently in kind, for those times, during such amiable 
  chatter, the stone has cracked and the mask has fallen to reveal, though in 
  company, it is seldom there in the first place, a welcoming and 
  heart-warming smile. A friend. They called him friend. And he has spoken 
  with them in return, 'Perhaps I shall at that.' and 'For a little while, 
  yes. And have enjoyed every moment of it.' as well as, 'A trouble maker she 
  is, hmm?' as a teasing jest. He can even joke. Presently a brow is arched 
  and sparks crackle over those smoldering charcoal eyes. "Bored? Of course 
  not, Faanshi." He speaks as though wondering how she could ever ask such a 
  rediculous question, though of course it is not the first time. Instead, 
  lips, curved ever so slightly upward greet her and faint as they are they 
  touch those dark orbs. "Just being with you is enough for me."

It's fairly obvious that the maiden isn't accustomed to those kinds of 
  assurances, either. Only through repeated vows of interest from the man at 
  her side has she seemed to relax a bit, slowly growing used to this strange 
  notion of a Varati who appreciates her company -- even aside from the notion 
  of the same Varati being interested in her for other reasons entirely. "Do 
  you not want to sit?" she asks then, pausing in her attempt to scratch out 
  words upon the parchment... and grateful for the excuse to stop. Little 
  furrows of strain have arisen between her brows, from the concentration 
  she's been pouring into her careful writing. "We walked much today..."

"I must stand and be ready." Mehul insists, puncuating the statement with a 
  firm nod. "I can keep better watch than I would sitting." That smile never 
  leaves those lips though, those lips that have held hers in an embrace, that 
  have confessed his affections and intentions to her. He see's the strain in 
  her however, and for the very briefest of moments, a hand slips from behind 
  his back, a rounded knuckle lifting to brush, so lightly, across her soft 
  skin of her veiled cheek. "Perhaps it's you that should take a break?" Yes, 
  he may have told her that he accepted her wish to wait, and she certainly 
  knows he respects that and her... but he seems to have come to think of 
  himself a suitor... or in the words of the child that dwells within him, a 
  boyfriend.

Faanshi has long been accustomed to her comparative lack of status around 
  Atesh-Gah and the disdainful glances kshatri have frequently given her -- 
  but she is fairly well confident that nothing dangerous is likely to 
  overtake her here in the very heart of the Amir-al's own embassy. Unaware 
  that that already small likelihood has been reduced by the danger coiled 
  into the big frame of her new self-volunteered companion and guard, she 
  protests anxiously, "I must at least figure out what to say in this 
  announcement... before I can consider going to bed. The Sylvans must be told 
  of the Voice and I don't think I can find them _all_... so I need to write 
  this out..." With the end of the quill unstained by ink, she taps on the 
  parchment spread upon the writing-board she's balanced upon her lap. But 
  there's that hand there at her cheek, and it makes her trail off into a soft 
  exhalation behind her veil.

The rounded knuckle removes itself from her veiled cheek, and for a long 
  moment, Mehul simply stares down at the parchment, his charcoal eyes fading 
  distantly in to contemplative though. "Honorable Sylvan neighboors, out of 
  our respect for you, and our acknowledgement of your strong presence within 
  the life of and surrounding the city of Haven, we wish to further understand 
  and improve the relations between us so that we may both work further to a 
  better tomorrow in which we can both live. In order to accomplish this, we 
  have appointed, to you, a Voice, a representative from us to you, through 
  which both can communicate. He is as much at your disposal as he is ours, 
  and we pray, may the Amir-al permit it, that the ties between us will 
  flourish." The suddenly vocal Varati silences then, refocusing and settling 
  his gaze back upon the woman seated before him, giving her a hopeful and 
  encouraging smile. He knows she can do it, but he wishes her rest. He has 
  already seen how everwhemled this position has made her.

Rest may come in short time, but for the moment, Faanshi blinks above her veil 
  and then stares up at her companion while the words roll out of im. 
  Surprisingly diplomatic words, and if the maiden lets herself, she can 
  almost imagine him uttering them to gathered Sylvans. Straightening up 
  slightly where she sits, she blurts, "Mehul... you... almost sound like an 
  ambassador yourself!"

An embarassed chuckle resonates from Mehul as he averts his eyes, casting them 
  back down to the parchment, clearing his throat soon after as he readjusts 
  himself, his posture his stance, hands clasping again behind his back. "I... 
  It was nothing." he insists, noding again before setting that dark gaze back 
  upon brilliant one. But if there is anyone he could help her be an 
  ambassador to... it would indeed be the Sylvans. Despite his lack of 
  knowledge of Varati culture, he has quite an extensive knowledhe of Sylvan...

The parchment already has several lines of tiny, cramped-looking script -- for 
  this is Faanshi's practice parchment, and she is loathe to waste any more of 
  the other sheets she has acquired than she absolutely must. She has 
  sharpened the quill to the smallest possible point she can get out of it, 
  the better to write the smallest possible characters she can -- and it's no 
  small wonder, really, that this effort is what's brought about her furrowed 
  brow and tired eyes. But as she watches Mehul's attention drop to her 
  writing again, the shudra thinks to ask, curiosity welling up, "It sounds 
  better than what I have written so far... do you read...?" Her gaze flickers 
  down to her writing and back up again as she speaks.

"Not well." is the response, though there is little shame or embarassment in 
  it. He seems to be able to forget that now with Faanshi, particularly after 
  the other night. She took him, sheltered him, and taught him. "I am able to 
  recognize my own name... and the letters of it... But beyond that, and a 
  word here or there, I can not." His eyes still remain on the paper though, 
  fascinated with the scribbles of communication, at the fact that she can do 
  such a thing. It is truly incredible to him. But now he falls to the ever 
  silent guard again.

And as before, Faanshi shows no sign of ridicule at this admission of 
  ignorance; instead, she simply bobs her head in understanding, and ventures, 
  "I could only make simple words for the longest of times... my heart-mother 
  taught me words for prayer scrolls, you see... but then I came to Haven, and 
  was able to learn more. It is good... I am blessed, I know, not many women 
  know how to read and write!"

"I learned from the markets. From vendors in the Rialto and writtings upon 
  walls..." His falling tone suggests the latter of them is also the lesser of 
  them and the more unpleasent. Not exactly the most articulate and useful 
  things in the world. "I don't ever remember learning my name though. I just 
  know it." His parents probably taught him a little bit, which would explain 
  why he is a quick study of the words around him... He's just forgotten.

"So you grew up within Haven, then...?" Curiosity continues to bloom, for as 
  Faanshi has pointed out before, she has barely had the opportunity to get to 
  know this sloe-eyed Son of Fire. For the time being distracted from her 
  writing, she rests her full attention upon Mehul, looking up at him as he 
  stands beside her seat... up, and up. Sitting down as she is, she can only 
  find Mehul's looming presence rather... looming, but at least she seems to 
  have begun to grow more at ease with it. With him.

"Sort of. I spent as much time in the forests around Haven as I did in the 
  city itself. I had to survive, and I did not want to be killed for thievery. 
  So I hunted." He stops there, pausing rather sharply, stunned at himself, at 
  what he speaks, that single word sending an alarm ringing through his entire 
  being, an alarm clock that wakes the beast, the cackling darkness from its 
  slumber and it threatens to wrest control from the little boy, to strangle 
  and cast him aside. What is he doing? What is he saying?! Careful... no. He 
  only said he hunted animals, not Graisha. Calm... "As I grew older," he 
  still sounds steady, and the pause, despite conflict, was short, "I simply 
  continued to do so because it became habbit and it was what I knew. So from 
  time to time I would come in to Haven to sell what I had caught, furs and 
  what have you. Thats where I learned from the markets." He also did spend 
  many a night within the city, but he assumes thats implied.

The Hunter within Mehul roils... but no. Faanshi does not see him. She does 
  not sense him. Is it because the shudra is unversed at sensing such threats 
  even when they look her in the face -- or because of the struggle to 
  suppress that inner growl, when the Child wants to stay forward and in 
  contact with that gentle interested gaze? For whatever reason, though, the 
  healer girl seems to see only the Child as she listens to the Mehul without 
  sharing the details of his past. Shyly, she observes, "But you grew up... 
  with the freedom to move about, and the sun and sky above you... and people 
  to watch..." Is that envy, in her soft voice?

If only it were that simple and that wonderful. "But I also had to fend 
  completely for myself," Mehul insists, meeting her gaze as his features 
  soften as the Child regains more complete control from the Hunter who, 
  though no longer slumbering, for the time being is subdued by the woman 
  before him, by her presence. The woman who said she would be his wife. The 
  cackling, the howling, is a faint echo now. "I had no one to help me, no one 
  to look after me, to feed me and teach me. What was a roof over my head one 
  day would be throwing me out in to the street the next for all I knew."

Though she does not have much faith in her own wisdom, still Faanshi can 
  understand these clarifications. "I have seen... the difficulty of living in 
  the streets," she murmurs solemnly. "This past winter was so very cold... 
  and there have been the other hard times that have come to the city since 
  the Most High caused my deliverance and I came here to live as Imphada 
  Kiera's shudra. The great plague, and the storms in the aether that harmed 
  all the mages... and the shaking of the earth."

"I... I did not mean to say that you hadn't... I apologize if it came across 
  as such." Mehul's eyes dart away momentarily and the cackling, for the time, 
  grows in intensity. He swallows hard and quickly puts his dark, smoldering 
  gaze back to hers, and it quiets, subdued again. Never does his smile waver. 
  "But yes, the winter was dreadful." A pause as he studies her, the 
  parchment, the lines of concentration that still linger on her exposed brow. 
  "Faanshi, you are certain you would not take a break? You are no good to the 
  Voice if you are exhausted to the point where you can not perform." Besides, 
  he has a plan.

"All is well," the shudra swiftly assures, touched by the apology, though she 
  hadn't felt one was needed; indeed, so seldom is Faanshi accustomed to men 
  of the Varati apologizing to _her_ that Mehul doing so now brings a bit of 
  wonderment to her gaze. Then she tilts her head slightly sideways, those 
  expressive eyes of hers turning sheepish, a trifle shyer. "That is... true," 
  she admits, unable to deny that particular wisdom. And tinily she concludes, 
  "I appear to have given myself a headache."

"You are simply stressed, tense." Now Mehul turns completely to face the 
  maiden seated at his side, a knuckle once more lifting to brush her veiled 
  cheek before coming to rest on her shoulder, as he leans down, the other 
  reaching for parchment and quill, attempting to take them from her. "I know 
  of an exercise that might be able to assist you. It's one that was taught to 
  me, and that I now try to do at least once a day to calm and ready myself." 
  An encouraging yet surprisingly bashful look is in his eyes as he speaks to 
  her of this, but still, he does not pull away. "It also helps you to get to 
  sleep at night. It relaxes and soothes you. If you would be willing to try?" 
  He has after all, yet to do it today.

The parchment and quill must needs be accompanied by the writing-board in the 
  maiden's lap; the bottle of ink is already resting upon the rim of the 
  fountain, within reach, but not in the way. Faanshi blinks, but permits the 
  taking of the items she still holds, her curiosity -- shy, but no less 
  intent for all her shyness -- still at the fore of her thoughts. 
  "Meditations?" she asks.

"Of a sort..." Mehul says with a nod as the things are taken. Now all he has 
  to do is keep them away from her until she goes to sleep, hopefully she will 
  forget about them. "It's actually called, Kata." He pauses, quite unsure as 
  to whether or not she has heard of it before, that bashful flush taking his 
  smoldering eyes and hardened features swiftly, disappearing just as quickly 
  though. "It's a physical form of meditation. Might you be willing to try?"

The word is unfamiliar to her, though this does not seem to bother the maiden; 
  rather, the curiosity only strengthens in her leaf-colored eyes, for in 
  Mehul's company she has a rare safety indeed. That of being able to freely 
  express interest in things that are new and strange to her. "I am willing to 
  learn," she answers in earnest tones. "What does it involve...?"

Mehul pauses, unsure how to explain this to her for fear of scaring the 
  beautiful maiden off. "It is like what you saw me doing in the garden a 
  couple days ago." Wow... was that really only a couple days ago? It really 
  does seem as though he has known her his entire life. "Slow and disciplined 
  motions, though your body is relaxed, calm. It's to slowly push out any 
  negative energy in you, to leave you cleansed and pure." He swallows hard, 
  nervousness sparking in those charcoal eyes. He truly just wants to help 
  her, that is why he brings this up. He wants to protect her, guard her, keep 
  her from any form of harm at all. "And most commonly, as it is best 
  practiced and most effective... it is performed bare..."

And -- oh dear, yes, the notion immediately flusters Faanshi, who starts quite 
  distinctly. Down goes her gaze and up comes a heated blush behind her veil, 
  though only the former is easily detectable. In a strained little voice she 
  blurts, "I-I-I do not think it would be proper for me to do that, Mehul..."

"I don't want to force you in to it if you don't want to...!" Mohid insists 
  instantly, quietly, and almost as embarassedly as her, his gaze too falling 
  downcast. Apparently he is ashamed to simply have asked her to bare herself 
  in front of him. But at the same time, he is willing to do it. He feels safe 
  with her, secure with her, more comfortable with her than anyone he has ever 
  known in his entire life. To her, with their connection... he already is 
  bare to her. "I just wanted to offer some help... I know it does me when I 
  feel myself coming apart." He looks back up to her then, charcoal eyes 
  smoldering, flushing with crackling sparks, searching for her own, pleading 
  for it to return to him.

"I... I-I just..." Drawn as she is to this man, willing even to allow the 
  possibility that some time in the future she could consider him a husband if 
  she could somehow win permission to wed, Faanshi nevertheless still is a 
  maiden raised in the ways of the Children of Fire. These ways have dictated 
  to her that she should not take off her veil before the eyes of men, much 
  less anything else she wears, and the prospect of being entirely unclothed 
  is enough to make her blush so brightly that it begins to peek even above 
  the edge of her veil. And perhaps she senses his pleading... for she does 
  look up again. "Mehul, I-I-I understand, but you see... I just... I-I-I have 
  never..."

"Like I said..." So quietly he speaks, such a hushed and quiet whisper, so 
  full of apology and understanding, and embarassment at himself for asking 
  her to do such a thing. He will probably be kicking himself for this for a 
  long, long time. "You don't have to... I was just trying to help... It's an 
  act of cleansing and purity..." He none the less manages to hold to her 
  eyes, even if the bright sparks begin to completely consume those dark orbs. 
  Anything for her... he would do anything for her. Even give his life.

"Is... the kata always performed b... I mean... as you say?" the girl asks, 
  sensitive to Mehul's embarrassment and agitation for all that she seems too 
  modest even to speak easily of going unclad. But even in the midst of her 
  shyness she seeks the hand of her companion, wanting to offer comfort. "The 
  ways of the Varati... you see... it is not proper to be, um... revealed... 
  except in the eyes of one's husband... or one's mahram. If a woman is 
  concubine, a-and not wife."

The hand she seeks is found. But Mehul was seeking it as much as her. For the 
  comfort provided, at least he hopes, is indeed a shared one. One that she 
  provides him and one that he gives to her, his strengh, his presence, his 
  assurence of protection... /always/. "It does not need to be performed 
  bare... but doing so is part of the ritual of cleansing and purity... It is 
  performed in our purest form. But Faanshi, you do not need to do it. I 
  understand." He squeeze her through their bond, affectionately and with a 
  touch of concern. If he damaged the connection between them at all...

"It would be best to wait... to see if we could be wed first," Faanshi 
  explains in utmost earnestness. Still very flustered, she peeks this way and 
  that, half-certain someone may well come along and demand to know why a 
  shudra is discussing taking off her clothes with a man. Only when no one is 
  seen near does she peek up again, voice dropped to a shy whisper as she goes 
  on, "If it... is a holy thing, of which you speak... then I could stand 
  before you blessed by the Amir-al's fire as your wife... do you see...?"

"Faanshi... you need not explain yourself or defend yourself to me." Mehul 
  says... dropping his voice with hers as he squeezes her hand and slowly 
  falls down to sit beside her so that he might lift it to his lips for a 
  tender kiss. "It was just an exercize meant to rid the mind and soul of 
  troubles, I thought it might help, so I offered to teach you." He still 
  manages to stare in to her eyes, though shame still grips him. "You do not 
  want to do it. So it wont be done." He smiles though, at the mention of 
  being blessed by the Amir-al's fire as his wife... as she speaks those 
  words. Certainly the joy it brings him to hear that is noticeable.

"But if you... wish to tell me... I would gladly listen... I know of herbs to 
  purify the heart and mind, and the meditations my heart-mother taught me... 
  she was Ushasti, you see." Faanshi relaxes, ever so slightly, now that her 
  companion sits beside her... now that her hand is squeezed and assurances 
  are offered. "But I have never heard of... exercises that purify."

"It is part meditation, you go in to a similar state." Mehul begins, his lips 
  again brushing the back of Faanshi's hand before he allows it to fall, fall 
  to his leg where he hopes it will rest, his fingers caressing its back. "The 
  motions are meant to slowly exercise both body, mind and soul in 
  concentration and deliberate tested movements." His eyes still stare in to 
  hers. He's never hard to explain this before... it doesn't come very easily 
  to him and he struggles to get the wording right. "These also push out the 
  negative unwanted energies from your body... It is difficult to explain 
  though... it is something that just has to be experienced... but the feeling 
  of serenity that grips you afterward far surpasses normal meditation."

Prolonged contact of any kind with _anyone_ is still a rare and marvelous 
  thing to Faanshi, she who has been accustomed for so long to her contact 
  being shunned by those who consider her blood tainted... and seem to think 
  that she will taint them as well with her very touch. There is in her 
  fingers an increasingly familiar little tremor as her hand is settled to 
  rest cradled within his upon his thigh. "I have had to do much meditation," 
  she says then, "to gain control over my power... I have only been able to 
  master it these past two years." Her brow crinkles then... but in a way that 
  suggests that beneath her veil, she might perhaps be ruefully smiling. "But 
  I am not sure if we think of the same things, when we think of energies?"

He is quite unsure what she means by that last question, and his brows furrow 
  at the statement as he caresses and squeezes her hand upon his thigh. "I 
  mean negative and hindering emotions, memories of the day that have left 
  their taint upon your mood, demeanor and general being..." He pauses, still 
  staring in to those beautiful eyes with his, tilting his head lightly to one 
  side. "As I said, it is a cleansing exercise." He'll never press her... he 
  just wants to help.

And he is -- in a way that perhaps can be sensed, as her slender fingers 
  trustingly squeeze his own in reply. There is a great deal to be said for 
  the simple uplift of spirits that can come from knowing someone is concerned 
  for her... and Mehul in particular is radiating a concern that humbles her 
  with its intensity even as it warms her to her very heart. Abruptly her eyes 
  brighten, as she confides, "My days of late have been anything but 
  negative...!"

"Nor have mine, Faanshi..." Mehul breaths silently, lifting his other hand, 
  his free one, up to lightly caress her clothed cheek again, smiling softly 
  in to her eyes, his own crackling briefly with an intense tenderness. "All 
  thanks to you..." The hand lowers after a moment, and he continues following 
  the pause. "But they have been stressful. I have seen it wear on you 
  already. Kata is such a wonderful release for stress. You'll find the burden 
  lifted from you and then some... you'll feel like a brand new person, 
  reborn." His voice is quiet, concerned, sensitive to her and her worries, 
  her wants, her needs and it is assuring.

Increasingly familiar, too, is what seems to be Faanshi's habit of withholding 
  any pain or stress she may be feeling. She shivers a little at the touch to 
  her cheek, eyelids drifting shut for a moment to make delicate dark 
  crescents of her lashes. "I... am accustomed to bearing stress," she 
  murmurs. "I think it is my lot in life, Mehul...!"

Mehul shakes his head, caressing that hand with his fingers, now patting it 
  with his other as well as he stares, still, in to Faanshi's eyes, deeply, 
  with increasing concern. "Faanshi... please. Let me show you how to deliver 
  some of that stress, to lift it from you. You don't deserve it." he breathes 
  softly, quietly. He only looks out for her, for her well being. He is her 
  guard.

"If it can be done while I remain clad," the healer answers... and then she 
  pauses, shyness threatening to overcome her, before she appends soft enough 
  that only Mehul's ears could catch the words, "I could... take off my sari. 
  I Have worn only choli and silwar before... when healing..."

"That..." Mehul says, swallowing lightly before continuing, still holding, 
  caressing her hand, maintaining that bond, "would do I suppose. It's not the 
  purest, but as long as it leaves you free to move, it should be fine..." His 
  smile twitches, for a moment, then grows further as he gazes deeply in to 
  her gentle eyes, letting out a long contented sigh as he becomes steadily 
  lost.

Two twin fields of green, like summer itself. Her eyes are a haven, a refuge, 
  where a small lost boy could curl up safe and sheltered... where a hunter 
  has no need to prowl. They meet the charcoal black gazing raptly down into 
  them, and even as Mehul begins to be lost in her gaze, so does she feel the 
  pull of his. "What should... we do, then?" she whispers.

The answer is a time in coming as Mehul remains lost within Faanshi's gaze, 
  simply staring, his charcoal eyes churning, smoldering with their invisible 
  flame as the boy emerges from behind them... and with tentative steps walks 
  in to that secluded grove of green and lays down... lays down to rest. 
  There, the Hunter can't find him. "We could... go try?" he whispers just as 
  quietly in reply.

"My things," murmurs the maiden, thinking of her parchment and ink and quill 
  and writing-board, though she does not turn her head to seek any of those 
  objects out... keeping her gaze in line with that of the small boy within 
  Mehul so desperate for its refuge. "I should not... we should not leave them 
  here..."

"I will take care of them," Mehul promises, and the briefest of sparks 
  flourish within his charcoal gaze. Indeed he will take care of them. "So... 
  shall we try then...?" He shouldn't have asked her to bare herself the first 
  time anyway. Perhaps if she became more used to it, then se would, once she 
  became comfortable with the kata, and with him. His smile remains, a 
  constant, the child is at peace, he rests, and the Hunter can not find him, 
  can not stalk him and haunt him... not now.

Slowly Faanshi bobs her head... shy still, but at least comfortable enough 
  with meeting Mehul halfway in this endeavor. "All right... but perhaps... 
  not here... out by the fountain, perhaps... it is too late to go out into 
  the city." And though she has grown comfortable enough with this man to try 
  this thing -- even with a lingering flush of shyness over her thoughts when 
  she considers the beauty of the movements she'd caught him doing in the park 
  -- she is not bold enough to do it where other eyes could see her. She has 
  been bold enough to try singing a song to the dawn up upon the stable 
  roof... but she has only so much boldness.

Mehul nods and stands, turning to face Faanshi with a new light in his eyes, 
  still clasping her hand in both of his, smiling boradly. "Of course! I 
  wouldn't expect you to here... People might see." He chuckles lightly and 
  even himself colors a little at that. She sang upon the roof? If only he 
  knew... how he would love to hear such a thing. "Shall we then...?" he 
  whispers again tugging at her lightly in an effort to assist her to her feet.

Shyly... but readily... she bobs her head and lets herself be helped to stand. 
  "Let us go...!"

[And in a few moments...]

Fountain - Courtyard - Atesh-Gah - Haven
      Concealed within the ring of tall, carefully groomed bushes and the 
  oddly comforting sight of droop-branched willows, is the merry and gurgling 
  presence of a marble fountain. As meticulously cleaned as the rest of 
  Atesh-Gah seems to be, the intricate stonework deceptively simple in 
  appearance. Perhaps ten feet across, the fountain itself is filled with 
  clear, cool water that bubbles forth from a raised pedestal in the centre of 
  the great circle. 
      Carefully tended gardens of bright flowers provide a colourful trim to 
  the circle of trees, their combined scent filling the air with a subtle and 
  sweet fragrance. The temptation to linger here and bask in the soothing 
  feast of the senses is only increased by the presence of the four stone 
  benches that are placed around the fountain. 
     You notice, through the thick greenery of bushes and ferns, a small 
  clearing to the north.
Obvious exits:
Courtyard <C>

Mehul enters the lovely seclusion of the fountain area from the courtyard.
Mehul has arrived.

Guided by a double clasped hand, Faanshi is led near the Fountain by Mehul, 
  his pace slow and steady, not wanting to rush the maiden in to such a task 
  as she is about to undertake. He wonders if he will ever get her to attempt 
  it in its purest form. But as they draw in to the secluded area he turns to 
  her, smiling and staring in to her eyes, "Are you ready?" he asks, 
  whispering feather soft.

There is no one out -- though Faanshi is never sure where the Agni-Haidar may 
  be at any time, and so even here in this relative bit of seclusion on 
  Atesh-Gah's grounds, she is not quite entirely at ease. But she does nods... 
  let out a slow breath... and peek to her left and her right amongst the 
  night-shadowed trees and flowers. "Where...?"

Slow movements carry the pair to a more secluded section of this garden, one 
  well hidden by shadows and trees that would keep people from view quite 
  well, but one with enough room to manuver. If there is anyone who could find 
  a spot like this, it would indeed be Mehul. "Here." he says with a smile, 
  lifting Faanshi's hand to his lips for a tender kiss before he releases her 
  and slowly turns his back to her, the laces of his shirt coming undone as he 
  pulls it up... and off, throwing it to the ground beside him. He 
  contemplates removing his leggings as well, but he worries of making her 
  /too/ uncomfortable, so he doesn't. But it does feel awkward with clothing 
  on... very awkward.

The shoulders and chest and torso of a Varati man still make for a good deal 
  of bare muscled flesh... more than enough to give Faanshi modest pause, and 
  her gaze dips shyly down to herself as with more hesitation she begins the 
  task of unwinding her black sari from her frame. It takes a bit of effort, 
  but apparently she is long practiced at it, folding the voluminous stretch 
  of cloth even as it bares more and more of what lies beneath to the night. 
  And what lies beneath... a bright red choli hugging her upper form, blue 
  silwar flowing loosely down her legs. A thick black braid that reaches down 
  to the small of her back, tied with golden ribbon. And a form that seems all 
  the slenderer without the yards of black wound around it.

And Mehul has now turned, whether by this time she has realized it or not. But 
  it is not over her exposed body that his eyes gaze. They do not wander, roam 
  over her as she reveals herself to him, no. They remain on her face, her 
  eyes, her ears, kissing them with their tender, affectionate stare, her 
  lips... but mostly those green orbs. "Beautiful..." he whispers quietly, 
  dreamily almost as he smiles at the woman, lifting a hand slowly to cup her 
  cheek as he had done the last he kissed her, just holding her there for a 
  good moment.

As the sari comes off, so too does Faanshi's veil... though they are not 
  rejected, simply reverently set aside to rest until it is time for them 
  again. It is a bare face she turns up to him, framed and crowned for his 
  sight by the coal-black hair pulled back from her dainty features into its 
  braid. Those features are full of timidity, a nervousness at wearing so 
  little before someone... but there she is, nevertheless. "What must I do?" 
  she whispers, keeping her voice soft, as if afraid to be overheard.... or 
  perhaps to shatter the peaceful solitude of this place.

Mehul releases her features, then turns a little, settleing down in to a 
  stance that looks as though he were riding a horse, his legs spread apart a 
  short distance past his shoulders, his knees bent, his hands in a heel-palm 
  shape, palm exposed but beginer knuckled, and arms pulled back by his hips, 
  thumbs pointing to the ground. His posture is as tall as possible, is proud, 
  bare and impressive chest pressed outward as his back arches a little, his 
  head and eyes staring straight forward. "Come," he whispers, "stand right 
  here beside me and do as I do." How this is awkward with pants!

Her ways might be Varati -- but here beneath the shade of the willow tree, her 
  sungolden skin dappled by the moonlight filtered down through its fronts and 
  the distant torches placed here and there around the garden, Faanshi could 
  seem almost completely... Sylvan. For a moment or two she watches as Mehul 
  settles into his stance, feeling bashful and fascinated and curious all at 
  once. "All right," comes her reply, as she steps closer to her companion. 
  "Do I... um... face you?"

"You can if you want..." Mehul whispers quietly, still staring straight ahead, 
  forward, not shifting his gaze, maybe not even blinking. "But normally you'd 
  stand right beside me." He remains in that stance, unmoving, waiting for her 
  to mimic him, his breath coming slowly, his chest rising and falling in a 
  gentle and regular rythm as his body relaxes, settling in to the meditative 
  state.

Then Faanshi will do what is normally done, for she does not want to do this 
  thing incorrectly -- it seems to her that the structure, the ritual, will 
  help keep her concentration away from the acutely unnerving sight of Mehul's 
  dark muscled form even partially bared to the night air. She stops beside 
  him, turning to face in the same direction as he, trying to make her slender 
  limbs match that position of grace and power.

Only a glance of dark, charcoal eyes, sparkling lightly in the black of night, 
  flitters over to Faanshi to ensure she has settled in to the correct 
  position. Already she is probably finding clothing just a little retricting. 
  And it will only get worse. "Now, you have to allow yourself to enter the 
  same state of mind that you would when meditating. You have to relax and 
  loose yourself, but remain focused on your inner emotions and being. You 
  have to feel yourself and your energies and harness them. Because with these 
  motions we are going to channel them and cleanse ourselves of the unwanted."

She can bear the restrictions: she has borne many greater ones, in the course 
  of her life. Locked away from the sight of her people and the warmth of the 
  sun, consigned to servitude because of the sin of her mother, called tainted 
  and shunned... after all of these things, the sense of her clothing pulling 
  at her body is trivial. And it is balanced by the sense of lightness that 
  comes from the sari being removed, of the kiss of summer night air upon her 
  arms, her wrists, her cheeks. That alone is almost enough to distract her... 
  but Faanshi has meditated before. Each day, with sage and sandalwood burning 
  in her incense bier, she takes her mind through the exercises taught her by 
  her one blood kin who loved her. Ulima, the wise-woman, priestess of the 
  Ushasti. Because of Ulima, Faanshi can find a clear small space within her 
  and begin the exercise of colors.
Red. Like her choli, like the apples sold in the Rialto, like the veil she 
  wore when she lived among Clan Behzad. She thinks of red, and for all that 
  her stance is awkward compared to that of the man at her side, her breathing 
  grows slow and measured, her features calm. "All right," she murmurs. For 
  once, there is no hesitation in her voice. Touching her inner core: that's 
  something she knows as well.

"Ok." Mehul begins, and his hands, the fingers take on a different shape, 
  index and pinky finger pointing straight upward in the air, the two between 
  knuckled down and the thumb now curved, also pointing upright. "Most who 
  perform Kata use different hand signs to signify the different energies, the 
  emotions that we are going to channel through our motions. The sign is a 
  helper in channeling. This one is for anger." He then proceeds, having 
  slowly driven, with much intensity, his arms quivering as he does so, his 
  hands outward to be held locked in front of him, not a bend at either elbow, 
  to explain to her each individual shape and its meaning.

Eyes turned a darker green by the shadows of the willow fronds falling across 
  her face flicker sideways, watching the controlled movement of those 
  chocolate-hued hands. "Channel... anger?" comes Faanshi's reply. There's a 
  hint of bemusement in her tone, almost as if she finds the idea of anger 
  entirely alien to her. Can this gentle maiden contain such a violent 
  sentiment within her? "How...?"

The reply may come across as an odd one to Faanshi, but it is indeed the 
  truth, how its done, and the only way at all to explain it. "You just... do 
  it. Meditate and focus, concentrate on the rawest of emotions. Frustration, 
  sadness, anger... Everyone has some of it in them. It's ok to admit it." As 
  he says that last another brief glance is thrown at her, charcoal eyes 
  crackling before facing forward again.

Faanshi's brow crinkles at that reply, indeed... though as she thinks about 
  it, still holding the mental image of 'red' within her, she has to confess 
  to the truth of his words. She is a gentle creature indeed, but even she has 
  known sadness and frustration. And even a little bit of anger. She has 
  accepted her place in life, and the ways of her mother's people -- but this 
  doesn't mean that they are easy ways to follow, or that even the gentlest of 
  souls cannot feel strain beneath the pressures of the life she leads. For a 
  few moments her hands wobble as sentiments she almost always stoically 
  represses swirl up from the bottom of her mind; the wobble travels along her 
  arms, then, until with a force she does not generally seem to be able to 
  produce, they come round before her into an approximation of the position of 
  Mehul's.
And she breathes, voice slightly roughened, "Like this...?"

He is staring at her now with a touch of surprise lingeirng in those dark 
  charcoal orbs, surprise at her intensity and accomplishment, but there is 
  also... pride. Something within him knew she would be a quick study to this 
  and she would find herself enjoying it. "Very good." he says quietly, 
  letting out a long breath after doing so before taking in another one. He 
  even smiles. "Now follow." Straight forward again, and just as slowly as the 
  hands were extended, they are now retracted, back toward his body, where 
  they were to begin with. Here he pauses. "This is to cut the channel, to 
  release the final trace of the negatice energy we just expelled before going 
  on to the next." And his hands shift to a different sign before one slowly 
  cocks to his side, lifts to neck level til the back of it touches his 
  shoulder, and then, shaking with the strain and focus, extends outward.

It is not at all very often that she is encouraged to show it -- or even just 
  permitted -- but there is a kind of strength within this maiden, and perhaps 
  now hints of it can be glimpsed in her arms' motions. She can remember being 
  angry... and saddened, and frustrated all at once. All three came to the 
  fore when an old mage tried to take her into Delphi... and tried to imprison 
  her dog with his magic within the ground. She has been frustrated time and 
  again when she has tried to explain why she accepts the life she leads to 
  those who live out in the city and who do not understand the Varati 
  people... and frustrated at the same time as she realizes that she cannot 
  bring herself to call them candala and kafir as she knows most of the People 
  of Fire would do. She remembers these feelings, delicate shoulders quivering 
  at what they call up within her... and tells herself that it seems to 
  strangely match the sheen of red she has called up over her inner thoughts. 
  Red, the color of anger. And she draws her hands in, tracing in her mind's 
  eye a scarlet aura about them, into which she sends the feelings roiling 
  sullenly beneath her surface. Make the red brighter... and then will it 
  away. She has done it before with her fractious power, and this isn't so 
  different now. As Mehul's hands shift position, hers follow a beat or two 
  behind, not quite as steady. But she banishes the red, leaving herself a 
  little shaken... but still in focus.

And now, simultaniously, as the extended hand draws in, weight and body shift 
  to the and the left pushes out in the same manner as the right had done, 
  shaking qith the focus, the intensity of channeled emotion as he pushes it 
  through and out of him. And since he has turned such, he can see Faanshi, 
  can watch her, her face, her motions, her breathing. His own body is already 
  covered in a light sheen of sweat, flowing chocolate skin, wrapped about 
  impressive muscle shimmering in the torch and moonlight. He smiles again. 
  She may have meditated like this before, but the physical exertion that this 
  entails far surpasses that of sitting down with legs crossed and hands 
  clasped upon them... far. He can already see the lines of stress, not the 
  lines of concentration surely as they are seperate things, vanishing from 
  her body.

Orange. With the red inner aura gone the shudra would ordinarily flow next to 
  an orange one -- but she holds back, trying to keep her mind dark and clear 
  as she unsteadily alters her position. The mental clarity... that's not new. 
  But aye, her body is unused to this kind of exercise, and so she has to take 
  it slower than Mehul, earnest as she is in her desire to learn the kata 
  properly. "What now?" she whispers. She, too, is beginning to sweat.

This is where the clothing restriction will come in to play quite a bit and 
  make moving very difficult. Slowly, MEhul draws himself back to the starting 
  stance, the horse straddle, legs just past shoulder width, arms tucked by 
  his hips. But gracefuly, entire body still shaking, sweating, covered in a 
  sheen that sends an aura about his chocolate skin, he draws up tall, 
  standing at a form of attention, arms now upward against his chest, fists 
  stopping at his collar, clenched. Now his right leg draws up, until his knee 
  nearly touches his stomach and it hovers there, toes pulled back. He remains 
  like this, waiting for Faanshi.

It's perhaps not quite as bad for Faanshi as it could be for Mehul -- for one 
  thing, she is a maiden and simply made differently. For another, her silwar 
  are loosely cut, though she has never had to subject them to this kind of 
  exertion. Nor has she ever had to try to stand on one foot. Something like 
  alarm flashes through her eyes as she peeks sideways at her companion... her 
  teacher of the moment, as she has been his. Then she swallows hard and tries 
  it. Returning to the starting position... that's not too difficult. Nor is 
  pulling herself up to her entire height, though the slowness with which she 
  does it creates pulls in muscles that normally do not register their 
  presence unless her magic reacts to damage to them. Pulling up her leg, 
  though... _that_ is difficult. Faanshi wobbles significantly the first time 
  she tries it, her balance threatened, and down comes her foot again as a new 
  frustration kindles in her expression.

"Do not get frustrated. Do your best, you may stand on toe if you wish, 
  instead of drawing the leg all the way up." Still he remains, without a 
  flinch or waver in his body other than the normal shaking of the focus and 
  exertion of his body. His voice even seems a touch distant, emotionless as 
  he goes through this ritual of ridding himself of the unwanted, the act of 
  cleansing. "You are doing wonderfuly."

Encouragement is as rare and precious to Faanshi as companionship and touch, 
  and even thoug Mehul's taken on a detached tone, still his words ring down 
  into her and bolster her resolve. Orange, she tells herself, taking a few 
  moments to remain as still as she can make herself; eyes closed, she 
  breathes in and breathes out, constructing a mental aura of orange that she 
  builds up along the length of her entire frame. Clarity returns with that 
  exercise, until she is able to resume the straddle and put her arms back 
  where they need to be. But this time, she slowly rises up on her toes 
  instead of trying to lift her leg. Achievement is one of the holy surahs... 
  but then again, so is Wisdom, and the maiden opts to try something a bit 
  less difficult on this, her first time with the kata. She shivers upon her 
  toes, but seems to figure out how to keep her balance in that position, and 
  she manages a tiny shy smile. "Thank you...!"

And then, slowly, carefully, deliberately, with what must be extremely 
  difficult to do, Mehul's leg shifts, parrallel to the ground and then 
  extends, straight out to his side, and even upward, high upward, near the 
  level of his head. Yet his perfect balance remains, and a shuddering breath 
  leaves him as he goes through the motion. "Again, you may keep your toe to 
  the ground, go at your own pace, whatever you are capable of. The Kata is 
  about the release of ones self, not of the person next to you. It is what 
  you must do to channel out the unwanted."

"What are we releasing now...?" Faanshi's voice goes thready with her 
  exertion... but even so, her stammer is still absent. Orange, she thinks. 
  Orange, like the fruit and several cats of her acquaintance in Bordertown, 
  stripy little felines that Kosha likes to chase... and even as her thoughts 
  try to diverge to that, she pulls them back to the simple visualization of 
  _orange_. Within her mind, she sheens herself over with orange, and tries to 
  see then if she can hold the inner color steady even as she begins to draw 
  her leg upward. Orange within... and sweat without, beading upon her brow 
  and trickling in a rivulet down the side of her fine-boned face.

"The frustration that leads to the anger..." Mehul explains, his voice light, 
  feathery... yet hard and disciplined in its distant caress. The leg then 
  draws back in, following the same precise course it had out, lowering before 
  the other then repeats both motions, out, and back on the other side and the 
  same painstaking speed. Through the entire basic Kata form the Varati runs, 
  taking careful consideration for Faanshi at his side, explaining its motion, 
  its meaning, what is being released, when, and how, allowing her simpler 
  movements when things become more complex and difficult to manage. By now, 
  surely, she sees how confining clothing is for this... But eventually, the 
  physical meditation draws to a close, and the Hunter resumes his original 
  horse stance, though dropping much lower, arms, in the shape of arcs, 
  sweeping down around his body, low, fingertips meeting then he stands tall 
  and they lift, forming a circle about him as the touch again above his head. 
  "This is to protect us til the next time."

Faanshi is half Sylvan... but she has been raised Varati. The restrictions of 
  clothing are second nature to her, and thus, when she finally drops into the 
  horse stance once again, she is aware of the strange feel of her choli 
  tugging against her in her curved places, the wrap of her simple sash about 
  her waist, the straps of her sandals wound about her calves. They are 
  restrictions... but she accepts them, for now. And they do not prevent her 
  from feeling an unaccustomed peace. As she looks up to find Mehul's gaze, 
  her own has taken on a newborn clarity that shines even against the sweat 
  that dampens each line of her face. "In the name of Ushas," she whispers 
  reverently, mimicking the circle, "and Her Holy Son...!"

"You see then. Feel it, hmm?" Mehul is smiling at her, beaming at her actually 
  as his gaze finds hers and he breathes one last deep, long sigh, his head 
  tilting to the side as his arms fall and he relaxes, still in stance, but 
  relaxes. He knows that the exhaustion of what she has done will settle in 
  soon and she will be heading for bed. It truly is a spiritual thing. "And 
  you did not even do it in its purest form." And the hidden message is... 
  'Perhaps you'll try it next time?'. He's such a sneaky suggestive little 
  devil isn't he. Yet managing to appear innocent as if it wasn't his 
  intention. Of course, it's not just to see her bare, he wants to help. Of 
  course. "You did absolutely wonderful."

Through orange and yellow, green and blue and finally violet, Faanshi has 
  pulled herself through the attempted melding of the meditations she knows 
  and this new form that Mehul has shown her. Now, the circle etched in the 
  air, Ushas and the Hawk who is her Son invoked, Faanshi takes a moment to 
  sketch the sigil of the sun across her breast... and only then does she 
  straighten up out of the stance. "I feel... good," she whispers, drawing 
  breath into her lungs and letting it out again.

Mehul's entire body is covered in a brilliant sheen of sweat, an aura of 
  golden fire upon flawless chocolate skin which wraps his ever impressive 
  muscles. And now, he too stands tall, beaming down at Faanshi probably the 
  brightest smile she has ever seen him wear. He too... feels incredible. "I'm 
  glad." he says breathlessly, the exhaustion starting to settle in upon him. 
  "Would you... do this again with me?" Perhaps they could make it a daily 
  thing.

Transfixed by that smile, feeling the pleasant weariness of exertion all over 
  her frame. Her own smile wavers a bit -- and then blossoms like a sunrise 
  across her face. "Yes," she murmurs, bobbing her head a single time.

"Allow me to escort you to your room." Mehul says with a smile. Where has her 
  parchment gone? Oh... thats stuffed away in a safe place. He only prays she 
  does not think to remember it as he comes to stand before her, gathering her 
  clothing and his as well. But he pauses there, his smile still beaming, his 
  charcoal eyes no longer seeming so dark, but to glow with their own light. 
  He he lifts a hand to touch and caress her bared cheek, a finger sliding 
  along her jaw, under her chin, and then back to cup the side of her face 
  again. "You are an incredible woman Faanshi. And I think the Amir-al for 
  every moment I'm alive to spend with you." And slowly he leans down to her, 
  to press his lips to her, again leaving her enough time to react either way. 
  Though this is just a soft and tender kiss, not to say it is not passionate, 
  but it is far from furious, simply gentle and affectionate, parting after a 
  moment and allowing his knuckles to brush her skin one last time before he 
  hands her her garments and puts on his.

[End log.]