"A Pleasant Little Interlude"

Log Date:
	11/29, 11/30, 12/5, 12/12/00

Log Cast:
	Faanshi, Sunset Tide

Log Intro:
	Life is generally always busy in one way or another for the young
shudra Faanshi -- and ofttimes traumatic and worrisome as well. But there
are some in Haven who have provided her the occasional boon of peace and
shelter that helps the city, for her, live up to its name. People like the
Sylvan sailor Sunset Tide, who freely helped her when she was ill and who
has used his shaping magic to give her a fine figurine of herself and a
toy bone for her dog Kosha besides. The halfbreed healer, feeling more at
ease with this young man than almost everyone else she has ever met except
her lost beloved Lyre, has promised that she will share a meal with Tide;
up till now, however, her duties have kept her from fulfilling her pledge.
However, Faanshi is never one to leave a promise unfulfilled... and if the
circumstances are right, she is also one to even express herself in 
conversation....

*===========================< In Character Time >===========================* 
             Time of day:  Noon 
          Date on Aether:  Thursday, June 21, 3907. 
           Year on Earth:  1507 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Waxing Gibbous 
                  Season:  Summer 
                 Weather:  Partly Cloudy 
             Temperature:  Warm 
*==========================================================================*

Small Room - Tide's House(#1743RFJ)
     This is a small room that serves as a home to some soul somewhere. A 
  solitary window provides most of the light through the day and a small 
  hearth which is across the room from the bed provides some small amount of 
  light. The bed itself isn't exactly what one would name as comfortable, 
  perhaps servicable would suffice in terms. Near the fire is a small table 
  with a stack of a few pots and wooden plates, the plates are very 
  incricately carved with excellent detail to the ocean on their surface. A 
  large tub rests in the other corner near the fireplace, a screen can be 
  pulled around it if need be but you doubt that the privacy is used very 
  frequently. The room feels lived in and seems to have a sense of precision 
  and cleanliness to its otehrwise spartan furnishings.
Contents:
Sunset Tide

It's a tough existence, sometimes, being driven by guilt and conscience. Many 
  in Haven might argue that the Varati people spend entirely too much time 
  living under the constraints of their religion -- and to be sure, a good 
  portion of Faanshi's day to day living is spent in strict adherence to the 
  traditions she has been taught to uphold. But she _also_ has a conscience. 
  And the fact that she had entirely forgotten about her promise to meet the 
  young Sylvan sailor Sunset Tide for a meal is sorely taxing hers. It's 
  actually been a week and a half since she remembered, all in a rush, that 
  she still hadn't sent word to him as to when she could see him again... but 
  a good portion of that time has been spent searching the Rialto for a 
  suitable offering to bring him along with her apology. And another portion's 
  gone to needing to spend time doing favors in exchange for the Varati 
  merchant who had the oilskin pouch in his stock, one of the few vaisya men 
  she's found in Haven who has deigned to permit a halfbreed to offer her 
  services to him. After healing his wife of a broken foot, two days of 
  babysitting his children for him so that he and his wife could journey in 
  peace to go and conclude the negotiations to seal his marriage to his 
  _second_ wife, and a third day spent applying herself to simple menial labor 
  about his stall in the Rialto, she's gotten the merchant to consent to give 
  her the pouch.
In the midst of all that, Faanshi's also had to juggle her usual forays into 
  Bordertown, gathering herbs for FallingStar, arranging with FallingStar's 
  _other_ student to take her into Bordertown with her, trying to figure out 
  where to squeeze in time to learn from BroadShoulders the making of the 
  vision-inducing dust that had been used at the violated ritual last winter, 
  and trying with all her might to avoid running into a certain alarming 
  Mongrel who shall remain nameless.
It is with a relief almost as powerful as her trepidation that she arrives at 
  the sailor's door this noon-time, basket with fresh bread and a meager, 
  precious amount of honey to go with it on her arm and the oilskin pouch 
  carried in one hand. With the other, she knocks timidly, mentally sending up 
  a prayer that she'll catch the Sylvan at home this time... and that he will 
  not be angry with her.

At the sound of the knocking on the door the Sylvan inside perks long, pointed 
  ears to the side while he considers for a moment. A *thump-a-thump* of feet 
  can be heard inside for a moment as he moves around the chamber to the door 
  where you presently stand. There is yet more noise, a scratching and 
  clumping of wood on wood while he removes the bar that hangs across the 
  doorway inside. Then, finally, the door opens to reveal the thin sailro with 
  the grin of gold upon his lips while he looks at you. "Chookma, lass." 
  Sunset Tide greets with a bright gleam to his sea-foam eyes while he steps 
  back from you so you may enter the humble, basic domicile.

Lass -- and dog! For Kosha is right behind Faanshi, and the dog wags his tail 
  amiably at the sailor, for he recognizes this place and its occupant. The 
  maiden in the meantime immediately clasps her hands and bows, blurting 
  anxiously, "Namaste'... chookma...! I-I hope you are not angry with me? I am 
  sorry I did not send you a message before--" As she straightens up again, 
  the soft worked-leather pouch between her palms, Faanshi's gaze drops to 
  that item and then flits upon again. With uncharacteristic impulse she 
  offers it swiftly forward, adding, "I have brought you this... to say that I 
  am sorry...!" And she holds it out for Sunset Tide's inspection, so that he 
  might see the fanciful design of a woman with long flowing hair and the tail 
  of a sea creature worked into the side.

Grinning like a man who's just met a long, lost childhood friend the sailor 
  beams at Kosha. "Ye wee varlet, come to eat me out'a house'n home ha'e ye?" 
  the Sylvan says to the dog as his long finger ruffle the crown of Kosha's 
  houndish head for a moment before he hadds, "Well, I s'ppose s'just as well. 
  In case I make a horrible roast we can always feed it to ye to spare 
  ourselves the belly aches." Tide finishs his dialogue with the unspeaking, 
  though not uncommunicative, dog and looks back to the beast's master. "Aye? 
  Well, alright lass. I'll forgi'e ye... but only this one time. Today." he 
  adds in an obvious joke and winks his eye at you as his palm lifts up so the 
  pouch can rest upon it. "Aye, ain't she a saucy lass?" he says of the 
  merwoman upon your pouch.

Skitches are a very fine thing in the World According to Kosha, but then 
  again, so is the smell of food in progress. The dog can't quite seem to 
  decide which is more delightful: the sailor's agile hands, or the wondrous 
  smells drifting out from the flat in which Sunset Tide dwells. Finally the 
  aroma of roasting duck prevails, and the big hound wriggles through the door 
  in an obvious attempt to give these enticing orders the investigation they 
  deserve. And, hopefully, to find and eat the food producing them, because, 
  well, FOOD!
Faanshi is rather less exuberant than her hound, but this is nothing new. But 
  as she peeks over her ebon veil there is obvious relief in her liquid green 
  eyes, as well as the beginnings of pleasure that the gift she selected meets 
  with approval. The fish-maiden is kept decent for innocent eyes by the 
  loose-flowing leyang draped about her upper form, though there is definitely 
  a saucy expression in the tiny features imprinted into the leather. "I-I 
  have never seen an Atlantean with a tail," she explains earnestly, "but I 
  thought, perhaps... you might like it? And it is oiled, to keep things dry 
  inside...!"

Grinning at you a moment the thin man reachs out and takes you hand to tug you 
  inside from the hall lightly, "Come in, lass. I'm nae gonna bite, though 
  Kosha may if he figures a way 'round my hearth to that duck." Tide chimes at 
  you merrily and looks at the pouch once more with observant blue-green eyes 
  and firmly nods his head in a definitive motions. "Aye, I like it very well. 
  Ye do me honor for buyin' it, which ye did nae ha'e to do." he says in a 
  playfully chiding tone of voice as he makes his way back over to his hearth 
  to protect the duck from Kosha's hungry, skilled jaws. "Ye can put yuir 
  basket on the table there. How does Kosha like 'is play bone?" the sailor 
  asks as he checks the metallic spit with the duck. Another of his own 
  creations, being a shaper is a marvelous thing most times, especially in day 
  to day tasks.

"Oh, I did not buy it," Faanshi blurts shyly, even as she follows the Sylvan 
  into his dwelling. "The Imphadi Zeheb ibn Alrahoun al-Samar permitted me to 
  trade for it, in service." As she sets her basket down and produces from 
  within it the bread and honey, she goes on, "It is his favorite toy...!" And 
  by way of demonstration, she produces the bone in question. It already 
  sports a few nicks here and there along its dark surface, though even 
  Kosha's determined teeth haven't really made any serious dents in the sturdy 
  wood. One jangle of the toy, and the dog's head swivels about from the 
  unwavering attention he'd been giving the hearth.

Grinning brilliantly at the masterful design of his dog toy, "Tis good, I ha'e 
  a real future in the market'a supplying animal toys if all else fails, I 
  think." Tide says to you in a playful manner, joking lightly about the 
  talents that he has been given. Listening to the incredibly, even 
  unnecessarily, long name that you supply him with the thin man's brows 
  furrow against one another. Shaking his head clear he returns to his easy 
  smile, "Services?" the Sylvan questions you in an easy manner. Not sure 
  precisely what services means to Varati who, to outsiders, are sometimes 
  noted for their dubious concept of service. If you look carefully, and have 
  memory, you may notice that much of the furnishes have been gilded with 
  metallic bits and pieces here and there.

The maiden bobs her black-covered head, saying, "I healed the foot of the 
  Imphadi's chief wife for him, and looked after his children as he went to 
  marry his second wife... and fetched and carried water and wood for him for 
  a day, and took messages." Indeed, Faanshi has noticed the small gleams of 
  metal here and there, and even as she offers Kosha his bone her gaze flits 
  about the place, as if she is too nervous to look at one thing for very 
  long... though this, again, doesn't seem to be unusual behavior for her.

"Calm down lass." Tide says to you in a voice that is smooth, though bubbly 
  with his usual perky enthusiasm. Aqua eyes glitter as he watchs you for a 
  moment and explains, "Sit back, rest yuirself as ye please. Yuir with a 
  friend 'ere. I did nae 'urt ye when ye were helpless'n I'm sure nae gonna do 
  taht just this minute either." he says to you reassuringly as he draws the 
  spit free from his hearth and places the duck upon a large wooden platter, 
  designed to be a mock up of a round shield with a tree and dove emblem upon 
  it. "Ye act like I got a kraken under me bed, which I admit I would nae know 
  'cause I ha'e nae looked, but tis unlikely."

Faanshi starts, seeming perhaps to realize her own tension for the first time, 
  but once it's been pointed out to her she murmurs a tiny rueful apology and 
  obediently settles into the nearest chair. Her words might almost be lost 
  under the enthusiastic jingles Kosha produces as he does his level best to 
  gnaw his bone apart, and so Faanshi tries again: "I... have... not been 
  alone with a... man very much, but you have always treated me with honor...!"

Chuckling at you as he steps back from the sizzling duck for a moment and 
  shakes his hand, flushed bright from the heat of the hearth, which he now 
  puts a heavy slate before so that it doesn't start to burn the room up in 
  these summer months. His solitary window is open, bringing in the scent of 
  the sea and some cool air to boot, with fluttering articles in the room here 
  and there. "Aye, well, I just treat ye the best I know how to treat m'self a 
  woman. There's prob'bly better'n me out there somewhere." Tide comments to 
  you honestly as he seems to take a great amusment from watching the large 
  hound give it his best go at getting to those noisy, metal beads inside that 
  bone.

Faanshi pulls in a soft breath, lets it out, and then does that again a few 
  more times in a conscious effort to try to relax herself. She has been safe 
  here, she reminds herself; indeed, this Sylvan has treated her with utmost 
  care when she was sick, and so far he has not behaved in an unseemly fashion 
  even once. Skittish though she is about being alone with a man -- any man -- 
  this is greatly comforting, and slowly but surely her slender frame begins 
  to lose its tension. "There are not many men in Haven who would take an 
  ailing person off the street and attend her in his own dwelling, for days," 
  she says softly. "That speaks of much honor."

"Or a man'a stupidity." he says with a swift grin coming to his own lips while 
  he watchs you for a moment and then winks an eye. "I do nae know, twas clear 
  that ye had nae place to go, 'r one I did nae'a anyway, 'n that ye were one 
  yuir way to a good'n painful death if'n ye did nae get warm in them silks. 
  Plus ye did nae look dangerous after I 'ad spoken to ye a time'r two." he 
  scomments on his reasons. His hands take a small brush and begins to rub the 
  juices and flavoring along the surface oft he duck with the semi-soft 
  bristles. "Did ye nae want wine? If so I got a wee bit'a milk too." he 
  questions you regarding the continuing meal.

Jingle, jingle-jangle-jingle, goes the dog with the wood-and-metal toy; every 
  so often, Kosha's play is punctuated by the scrabbling of a paw or two 
  against the floor as he changes his hold upon his current favorite prey. 
  Faanshi watches him fondly for a moment even as she listens to the Sylvan, 
  and at last lifts her solemn gaze back to him. "If you please," she answers, 
  the gravity of her enunciation softened by the simple fact that her 
  uneasiness appears to have left her eyes, "I shall have the milk. It 
  smells... very good...!" With one sungolden hand, she gestures in more than 
  a little bit of awe at the preparations being made over the duck. Now that 
  her attention has been captured by this, her gaze stays there; the sight of 
  a man cooking is not one the maiden sees very often.

While he's no master chef, by any means, Tide has had to take care of himself 
  for a very long time now. Tribal Sylvans often have one sets of people who 
  cook, mostly women, for the whole group while others gather and hunt food 
  for them to work with. However, having left his home five years ago Tide has 
  had to rely only on hismelf and he has eaten in many nations, from many inns 
  and gathered some small secrets from people much better than himself. 
  "That's fine, lass. S'that'r water since yuir nae goin' to drink any wine. I 
  figured ye might like somethin' with some taste." Finally the man brings out 
  two of his leaf-shaped bowl-plates and places them before himself. A pot 
  nearby his pulls a ladle free some long, green beans that have been sauced 
  with some bacon, onions and hot spices. Pilling a healthy bit upon both 
  plates before he begins to cut the duck up into small, deliberate spices. "I 
  cooked 'im with butter, honey'n cinnamon, if that's a'right with ye, makes 
  the meat tender, sweet'n spicey." he says to you as he piles liberally from 
  the bird onto both plates.

Faanshi's eyes get progressively wider as she watches the Sylvan at work, and 
  only the fact that he has outright asked her to sit still keeps her from 
  leaping up by force of ingrained habit to try to put herself to work. The 
  smells alone coming off the bird are more than enough to impress her, and 
  the rest of what Sunset Tide describes only serves to make the halfbreed 
  girl practically gape. The shudra of Clan Khalida do not under any 
  circumstances starve. Their food is not ostentatious, as befits their caste, 
  but it is nourishing and filling and often prepared well. But even so, 
  Faanshi is in the habit of taking the bare minimum necessary to sustain her. 
  Bread and cheese and the occasional bowl of stew are her accustomed fare, 
  and to see the lengths to which Sunset Tide has gone now stun her almost as 
  greatly as having once been invited to dine with the Maharani herself had 
  done. "I... of... o-of course it is alright," she blurts, stunned to be 
  asked such a thing. And then, flustered, she turns back to her own offering 
  to the meal, abruptly feeling very humble indeed. "I brought bread, and, um, 
  honey... I did buy that," she lamely murmurs.

Grinning at you a little bit as his face lights up and sparkles the man moves 
  the platters of food over to the table where he allows you to sit presently. 
  Going to the thick box where he he keeps things stored to try and maintain 
  their chilling, though they still only last a few days extra. Drawing out a 
  container of the white liquids, milk, and pours them in the wooden bowl-cups 
  that he keeps in his house. Tide takes the honey that you brought and 
  dollops a bit into the milk for both of you before he sits down across from 
  you. "There ye go, lass, the best o' Tide sittin' there for ye to dine on at 
  yuir leisure." aquamarine eyes watching you with a sparkle and his lips form 
  into a slim, brilliant smile on his lips while he watchs your reaction to 
  all his work.

Maharanis and empresses have sat down to finer meals, but one might possibly 
  argue whether such fine ladies have met food set before them with such 
  wonder before. It occurs to Faanshi that now would probably be a good time 
  to take off her veil; she's been avoiding that until the last possible 
  second, for taking off her veil has of late gotten her into alarming 
  situations. But this is Sunset Tide. He is safe, she tells herself, not as 
  nervous as she would otherwise be as she reaches up within her sari to undo 
  the chain that holds the opaque ebon gauze in place before her delicate 
  features. Thus is her marvelling expression revealed in full, and while she 
  carefully folds the veil and lays it atop her basket, the healer breathes in 
  obvious appreciation, "It... looks... and smells magnificent!" Is that a 
  smile tugging at her mouth, now that her mouth can now be seen? And is that 
  a shine of pleasure in her eyes?

Wooden forks sit by the plates, for your usage, as well as wooden knives 
  rimmed very slightly on the edge with steel which has been melded to the 
  wood. His voice is lyrical and bubbly when he replies while he grins to you 
  with that friendly rogue smile, "Why, thank ye lass, I ne'er had thought'a 
  me much as a great cook. I do the best that I know how to and yuir worth 
  doing e'en better'n that." Tide says to you in a bright manner, not watching 
  you take off your veil out of respect for your beliefs, though he does look 
  at you when you are done removing the article from your face. "Ah, yuir 
  beautiful lass. Ye were then'n ye are now, I'm glad that ye share yuir gift 
  with me." the sailor says, waiting for you to eat first before he will take 
  his first bite.

It's the noise of dishes being handled that makes Kosha look up, one end of 
  his bone in his mouth and the other protruding outward. Hey! Is that FOOD up 
  there? With a jangle and a rather undoggish hop, he scrambles over to 
  Faanshi's feet and promptly drops his bone, eyes fixed upon her in 
  unwavering entreaty. You're gonna give him some of that food, right, 
  Faanshi? That food right there. Take your time, he'll wait!
"Kosha," scolds the maiden in a voice that proably isn't nearly as stern as it 
  ought to be and thus explains why the dog's attention is so firmly in place 
  one might think he was attempting to telepathicaly communicate his hunger, 
  "do not beg! It is unbecoming!" Not that this stops the dog, though the 
  treat of roast duck he's now avidly anticipating doesn't yet make its way 
  down to him, for Faanshi has been distracted by the Sylvan's choice of 
  words. And his compliment. Blushing deeply, taking up knife and fork, she 
  murmurs, "Thank you... I... I do not think anyone has ever described 
  removing my veil... as a gift..." She trails off unsurely, a troubled 
  overtone lurking somewhere in those gently uttered words, which she tries to 
  banish. Surely it does no honor to this meal or its maker to be of poor 
  spirits before him?

"Aye, well, yuir welcome to the words lass. I meant what I say, though I can 
  tell that it bothers ye a bit." Tide says to you with a slight smile, honest 
  and open more so that his usual beaming smile. Aqua eyes sparkling trhe the 
  waves rolling over the seas while he shrugs his thin shoulders, "Ye do nae 
  need to feed him yuir meat, there's bones a'plenty if he wants to grab 'em 
  right o'er there." the thin sailor motions to the table where the mostly 
  butchered duck rests. Winking at you for a moment, "I chose something I knew 
  all three'a us could enjoy to some extent." he says in a reasonable manner. 
  Seeming to accept, gladly even, that with Faanshi comes the Kosha and vice 
  versa. "Go 'head'n eat'a bit I wanna see what ye think'a me handiwork. Looks 
  pretty, maybe, but let's see how she tastes. Neh?" he smiles brightly and 
  speaks cheerfully.

Handed a very convenient way to avoid commenting upon the topic of her veil, 
  its absence from her face, and what therefore is revealed, Faanshi swiftly 
  bobs her head in acknowledgement. "Let me give him a bone," she breathes, 
  darting to her feet, "or else he will beg quite shamelessly... and if I do 
  not he will start begging from you, I'm sure... I tell him that he is 
  breaking the holy surah of Self-Reliance, but he _is_ only a dog." And this, 
  apparently, is either one of the few ways a creature can get away with 
  violating the tenets of Atarism... or else Faanshi has just made a joke. 
  Which is it? Tough to tell, for she does drop her gaze as she steps to get 
  Kosha a treat of one of the biggest bones in the remains of the duck she can 
  find, making his attention follow her and his tail start wagging full-tilt. 
  As he plucks the offering from her dainty fingers, the healer girl settles 
  back down again and pauses... but only for a moment... to sketch a sigil of 
  some kind across her breast. Her eyes close, and the finely formed lips 
  generally hidden behind ebon gauze move soundlessly. Only after this is 
  accomplished does she let herself give the nourishment before her the 
  attention it deserves.

Grinning for a moment he gives a quick, burbling chuckle from his lips as he 
  looks at the shameless Kosha hound. Warrior of Faanshi that he is, Tide's 
  eyes sparkle like gems while he watchs you move and feed the ghound. "Nae, 
  lass, he'd just knock me to me rump'n take me chair to dine with ye 
  himself." the sailor says in a joking manner with a quick tongue and simple 
  manner. Giving the dog a mock, playful evil eye as though he suspects him of 
  conspiring against him even at this moment. Then the small Sylvan goes quiet 
  while he watchs you dine, waiting for your pronouncement on the meal that he 
  has prepared for you. Pursing his lips he almost seems to hold his breath 
  while he prays that you take it favorably.

A BONE! A REAL BONE! Toy bones are all very well and good, and toy bones that 
  jangle are especially fine, but when they go up against an actual bone with 
  actual flesh of duck upon it -- well, the decision is not a tough one for 
  Kosha to make. Firmly ensconsed in one of his personal canine heavens, Kosha 
  falls to chewing upon this prize with even more vigor than he'd displayed 
  for the wooden one. In the meantime, Faanshi takes her first few 
  experimental samplings of her own portions... and as they are consumed, her 
  reactions are almost ridiculously easy to read upon her face. A childlike 
  delight begins to kindle there, and once she has space to do so between 
  swallows, she asks with eyes gone wide, "This is duck? I have never had duck 
  before... at least... I don't _think_ so... it is very good!"

Watching you, not Kosha, the bright aquamarine eyes focus intently on your 
  unveiled, pretty face that you seem so ashamed to take compliments for. 
  Pinching his lips from a moment as you seem to savor the meat, then his eyes 
  light up brilliantly as you speak about the sweet, tender duck meat that he 
  has prepared for your consumption. "Aye, well, duck is a wee bit 
  expensive... but she's worth it when you finally get 'er in yuir mouth." the 
  Sylvan chimes at you in a bright, playful manner. "I'm glad ye liked me 
  choice, ducks are part water, part land'n part air'n when they're cooked 
  they take on aspects'a fire with it." he explains in a miniature diatribe as 
  he begins to dine on teh finely sliced meat for a moment, plucking out some 
  of the bacon boiled beans. His eyes alight at your open joy of a new food 
  experience and the pleasure of it being fairly well prepared.

"A dish for everyone," Faanshi immediately responds, something that may well 
  be a smile haunting the corners of her mouth. She still seems flustered, and 
  her gaze does not linger long upon her companion at any given moment... but 
  the sheer joy of learning something new clearly has a profound effect. 
  Certainly, the maiden seems to have no problem concluding, "Water, because 
  they are water birds... but they walk upon the land as well, so earth... and 
  air, because they _are_ birds... and all warmed in fire!" This, evidently, 
  is a very fine concept for Faanshi; each bite she takes is now given a warm, 
  serene glance before she takes it in, as if she is taking great joy in 
  consuming something wonderful. Each of her motions with knife and fork is 
  daintily done, though it is anyone's guess whether it's born of rigorous 
  upbringing or unpracticed grace. Again between bites, she asks earnestly, 
  "Do you think that is why duck is expensive? Because of its aspects of all 
  four of the elements?"

Listening to your first string of words the thin man beams you a smile and 
  nods encouragingly at your surmization of his own words. "Aye, yuir quite 
  the astute little shdura are ye nae?" comes his sly words and playful voice 
  as he looks briefly to Kosha with a tilted head, watching the hound savage 
  the bone with the occasional *pop* or *crunch* from his jaws. "I do nae 
  think taht is why she's so expensive, nae. I think that would be because our 
  devout leaders happen to lo'e to eat. So, she's a wee bit harder to come by 
  for us lower rankin' folks'n e'en then she usually costs a bit'o fair 
  change." Tide says in a thoughtful manner to you and then adds in an aside, 
  "Howe'er, I think that's why she tastes so well. She's got a bit'a all 
  worlds in 'er. A fair balance, one that yuir gonna be hard pressed to find 
  in any other food in the world." he plucks at the beans further and then 
  some at the fine meat.

A compliment upon her wits is rather less unnerving than one upon her beauty 
  -- though truth be told, Faanshi has received the former variety of 
  compliment even less often than the latter. But the lesser degree of 
  consternation praise of her thought processes brings her might be noted in 
  the fact that she turns merely pink, rather than crimson, along her cheeks. 
  "I _have_ observed," she says ruefully even as she explores everything upon 
  her plate, taking the time to slowly chew each tasted morsel and speak 
  between swallows, "that some of the kshatri _are_... um... fat! Not the 
  warriors... but still." Thoughtfully, then, Faanshi considers. "I met a fat 
  Empyrean once, but I do not think she is a noble. She sells things in the 
  Rialto."

Shrugging his shoulders upwards at your words, the Sylvan doesn't precisely 
  know how to reply to this but he shall make an effort none the less. "Aye, 
  well, I do nae know what makes 'em so large. I imagine s'where their 
  bodies'r so large anyway, taht if they do nae work at keepin' 'em strong 
  they get soft and pudgy." Tide says in a theoretical manner, with little 
  fact. "Most folk who'r big tend to be at least a little fatter'n us smaller 
  folk, but tis e'en worse if they do nae work 'cause all they do is sit, 
  eat'n sleep which makes 'em get fatter, faster." he continues absently. "I'm 
  surprised that 'pyreans are nae fatter than most'a them are, their noble's 
  do nae one thing for themselves but gossip, breed'n gi'e orders." he says in 
  a joking, light-hearted manner. "Hell, they do nae e'en fight for themselves 
  like most 'rati do."

"The People of Fire are great in stature," Faanshi agrees, bobbing her head 
  again. "There are Warlords and Agni-Haidar... seven feet tall...!" These 
  words are breathed in obvious awe, which doesn't really go away immediately 
  even as the shudra brightens at the proffered theory. Leaning forward just a 
  bit, she pipes, "Yes...! I have healed large persons before... I have felt 
  it in my magic, they must do many active things and eat wisely to remain fit 
  and healthy." Then she catches herself at Sunset Tide's latter words, not 
  quite making a face, though whatever has just spiked up behind her eyes has 
  shifted her focus a fraction. "The Empyreans... _do_ fight," she is 
  honor-bound to point out in their defense, even though the war between the 
  Varati and the Empyre is not exactly a comfortable recollection. "The 
  Amir-al called the Clans to war to fight with them... and they fly around a 
  great deal. That must be much exercise..."

"Nae their nobles, nae most'a them. Their 'Praetors' fight, but prators are 
  nae nobles usually. Some'r, but nae most'a them. E'en then I hear tell taht 
  a lotta their army is filled by Mongrel serfs that they pay to do fightin' 
  for 'em." Sunset Tide reminds you in a thoughtful manner before tucked a 
  little piece of the rolled meat of duck into his mouth. "Aye, it must be 
  exercise indeed. I spoke to one'a them brown bird-folk, Aesir? 'n they said 
  that the 'pyreans we know do nae fly nearly as much as they ought and seemed 
  lazy to them." he shrugs his thin shoulders and grins teasingly, "I'll ne'er 
  ha'e wings, so I guess I should nae judge."

Faanshi nibbles on more of her food as she listens, nodding her 
  acknowledgement about Praetors; she does have to admit, of the peoples of 
  Haven, she knows the least about the Empyreans. If there's a section of the 
  city she's visited least often, it's the Empyrean quarter. When her 
  companion pauses again she's quirked her head, caught anew by the mention of 
  the strange barbarians from the north. "I saw a couple of the northmen," she 
  offers shyly, "but I-I did not speak much to them..." This probably fails to 
  surprise. Faanshi has enough trouble speaking to the usual set of people in 
  her day to day living, without tossing in the Aesir out of the northlands. 
  "They seemed very... large. And very... loud."

Nodding his head a little at your words, the thin sailro seems to concur with 
  your summary of them as well, "More'n a bit boorish. They 'ad all the 
  'rati's worst traits and none'a the good ones to make ye think that they 
  might be worth keepin' 'round. Well, 'cept that they did make for fine 
  sailors all in all." the man quips brightly at the end of his little 
  commentary. Tide nods again at you, "I did nae understand why the Delphi did 
  nae let them 'rati kill the fools when they had the chance, 'r the 'pyreans 
  when they did. Guess they were 'fraid'r something." he says with a shaking 
  of his head slightly and beams at you, "For one, I'm glad they've taken 
  their lea'e'a us and we's them. For now, at least."

"Yes," Faanshi murmurs, looking a trifle uneasy, her eyes a trifle distant. 
  The northern Atlanteans... I saw them not long ago. On the beach. One of 
  their men killed one of their women... I do not know why, but she seemed to 
  _want_ him to..." With that, the shudra shivers and then peeks 
  apologetically at her young host. "Forgive me," she plaintively appends, "I, 
  um, do not think that is really a suitable topic for the dinner table." 
  Someone, indeed, has tried to teach this girl delicate table manners.

Sunset Tide listens to this and lifts his thin brown brows, with their curious 
  green tint, at the words. "That's... odd. I ha'e seen races that kill people 
  'fore, but ne'er ones that were hoppin' happy to get themsel'es put down." 
  he says with a shake of his head and then grins at you as he plucks at the 
  meat further, nearing doen with his small mound of duck. "Yuir forgi'en, as 
  if I could nae forgi'e ye for something ye wee lass." he says with a swift 
  and easy grin on his lips. "So, what 'as been happenin' in yuir life, 
  other'n what ye been doin' to find me a right pretty gift."

It's rather amazing, how many small nuances of expression are revealed upon 
  Faanshi's countenance when her veil isn't in the way. Such as the way her 
  cheeks blow out every so slightly as she releases a breath, looking just a 
  bit daunted as she tries to mentally tally up all that she has had to do in 
  the last many weeks. In between nibbling at morsels of duck, she answers, 
  "Well... do you remember, when we first met, I was looking for Sylvans? My 
  mistress commanded me to do so, but she left Haven for a time, and the 
  Amir-al bid me bring them to Him instead--" And then she cuts herself off. 
  Faanshi does not cover herself well, when she commits a slip of the tongue. 
  Red flushes across her cheeks as she belatedly realizes that she cannot 
  recollect whether she told this Sylvan sailor who exactly she serves.

Green-blue eyes flicker are rapidly as moth's wings when they blink in passing 
  succession as he looks at you, obviously boggled by the comments that you 
  are in direct service to what most people agree is the most powerful thing 
  alive. Or, active anyway. "Ye serve the 'rati god-king, lass?" Tide says 
  with his mouth falling open a bit, so that you can see the back of his 
  throat. "Ye must be some kind'a very powerful magess indeed to be servin' 
  that'un... Um, are ye, like, 'is personal 'ealer'r something?" he obviously 
  has no idea what to say to that small revelation which is, in fact, not so 
  small at all. All of the sudden he seems a bit more intimidated by your 
  presence, the feeling around him changes almost perceptibly as he just 
  watchs you.

"Oh no -- no," blurts the maiden, sitting bolt upright in reaction to the 
  shock that's burst across Sunset Tide's expression. Shaking her head with 
  uncommon vigor, Faanshi rapidly explains, "I-I-I am unworthy of _that_ great 
  honor... the Most High does not require my humble gifts--" And besides, 
  Faanshi has severe doubts that the Hawk of Heaven needs _anyone's_ healing 
  gifts; after all, has He not returned from the grasp of death itself? "But 
  H-His Queen has honored me by permitting me to serve her." Consternation 
  crinkles her dainty features as she speaks as she senses at least on some 
  level her companion's slight shift in mood.

Sunset Tide furrows his brow, knitting it tightly against its opposed mate 
  there while he watchs you with curious eyes. Then he clamps his mouth shut 
  to stop looking like an utter moron staring agape at you, "Oh, ye serve his 
  'pyrean." he says in a slightly easier tone of voice, though he fidgets in 
  his seat faintly. Its as though he no longer feels like he can say whatever 
  he wants to you because you are tied so closely to these people that 
  partake, gleefully, of putting down common folk like himself. "So, eh, what 
  do ye do for 'er? Make 'er bed? Clean 'er cloths?" he asks you, trying to 
  make a joke in a slightly feeble manner.

Has she frightened him? Upset him? Painfully aware that a good number of 
  people in Haven look with less than kindly eyes upon the People of Fire, 
  Faanshi as a rule tries not to tell those she meets on the streets who she 
  serves... because of reactions exactly like this one. Her features stay 
  crinkled up in uncertainty, and ease only a bit as the young sailor seems to 
  try to brave his way on through the conversation. "I am not commanded to 
  attend to her menial tasks," she answers timidly, and there might be a touch 
  of relief hidden in there somewhere, though it's tough to tell. "The Imphada 
  Maharani permits me to continue healing in Haven... a-and..." Not exactly 
  certain whether mentioning that she is to be Thalia's eyes and ears on the 
  city streets would make matters better or worse, the shudra catches herself 
  just in time, and settles for murmuring instead, "She commanded me to speak 
  to the Sylvans... when some of them violated the ritual of Invoking the 
  Flame, l-last winter. She thought I should speak to them because half my 
  blood is Sylvan."

He listens to you with an interested ear, pointy and cocked at you, to your 
  description of your duties and then the man shakes his head in utter 
  disbelief. "Ye mean, ye do nae one thing." Tide says in an amused tone of 
  voice as his bubbling and easy-going personality spring to the fore once 
  again liek a flower blooming. "So, ye just go 'round healin' folk, teasin' 
  sailors'n occasionally talk to someone for yuir woman? Dun sound like she's 
  using ye for much'a servanthood... more like she just lets ye go 'bout'n do 
  whate'er ye please."

"I am most blessed among shudra," Faanshi readily assents, a bit more of her 
  anxiety draining away as she watches Sunset Tide's good humor bouncing back. 
  "When the Most High's Favored, the Imphada Kiera, delivered me from... from 
  where I was before, she was a most generous mistress... so too has the 
  Imphada Maharani been. I say prayers of thanksgiving each morning and 
  night!" Many in Haven might speak of the oppression of the Varati upon their 
  servants and slaves -- and upon their women -- but there is a shy light of 
  conviction kindling in Faanshi's eyes as she utters these words, and an 
  absolute lack of hesitation in her voice.

Tide, being a foreigner to this continent even, knows only what he is told of 
  different races and people around here. Having only mild experience with 
  each of them, primarily dealing with Ettowealana and Atlanteans, as one 
  might expect of Sunset Tide's background. "Well, aye. Ye'r." he says in the 
  bubbling voice, quiet and a bit solemn but not without a slight measure of 
  amusement, "I ha'e ne'er heard'a any such thing b'fore from anyone. They all 
  say Varati'r horrible'n hard on their servants." he explains with a brief, 
  minimal shrug from his thin shoulders. "Where.. um, were ye b'fore?" he asks 
  a little tentatively.

"With Clan Sarazen," is the maiden's reply, very soft now, very shy. Her gaze 
  is extremely unsure -- but she does not lower it. Now that the barrier of 
  information has been breached, it is both compulsion and relief to share 
  with this young man some of the most crucial elements of her past. Even if 
  she isn't exactly certain how he will take them. But... in for a dinar, in 
  for a zechin. Her dainty throat flexes for a moment as she swallows, but she 
  goes on nevertheless, "O-or at least... the Warlord. He was my mother's 
  husband... but he had me locked away."

Makign a faint sound that is 'oh' the Sylvan seaman watchs you with easier 
  eyes, sympathetic and caring in a manner akin to how he treated you when you 
  were ill. "So, yuir the blood'a some kind'a Varati royalty but the kook 
  went'n triedt o kill ye?" he says to you in a quiet tone of voice, though 
  there's a hint of wasted outrage in his tone of voice that belies that he is 
  irritated with the Warlord. "Well, then I'm glad that yuir Kierag ot ye 
  free'a that'n, so that I coukld make yuir pleasure 'ere now." he says in a 
  lighter manner, shifting you to a light hearted mannerism, or so he hopes.

The corners of Faanshi's mouth creep upward; dire though what she is relaying 
  might sound, it is still _past_, and for this maiden there is much relief in 
  that. Here and now, too, the young Sylvan before her is easing her heart. 
  Earnestly she explains, inwardly hoping that her instincts are sound here 
  and that she can utter in safety words she has a great difficulty speaking 
  anywhere else, "Well... my mother dishonored her husband, you see... she 
  h-had a lover, a Sylvan... and I am from that union..." Again she swallows, 
  eyes beginning to turn a touch liquid, though strangely enough her 
  expression is almost peaceful. "The Warlord considered me... shameful. A-a 
  demon. My heart-mother... my kinswoman, Ulima... she was why I was permitted 
  to live. And she spoke with me to the Amir-al... when He discovered that the 
  Warlord was a-a breaker of surahs. And... mad."

Slowly the thin, wiry looking Sylvan nods his head as he absorbs what it is 
  that you are telling him here and now. His eyes look at you for a moment 
  while they show easy compassion of someone who feels these things easily, 
  "Aye. Sounds as though he were mad. Yuir, um, kinswoman sounds liek she were 
  a very brave woman to try'm keep ye ali'e through his... madnass?" Tide 
  questions in a slow type of voice, eyebrows furrowing once more and then he 
  shrugs once more and offers you an assuring, confident smile. "'n'now yuir 
  the luckiest shdura livin' in Haven I'd guess. Yuir surely livin' a curious 
  life, 'n'yuir surely a strong woman for that too."

He _understands_. The relief of this alone is enough to bring up a few more 
  almost joyous tears into the maiden's eyes, though she can be seen to blush 
  deeply at the mention of her own character. About herself she does not 
  comment, but she does avidly bob her head, affirming, "I am blessed among 
  shudra... and blessed, to find friends, s-such as yourself... I do not have 
  many." And now a bigger smile tentatively comes into view, uncertain, as if 
  Faanshi is not entirely assured that she _can_ smile. But she tries it, 
  nonetheless. "They are precious to me...!"

Grinning back at you his chin dips and bobs a few times at yoru words, "Aye, I 
  can tell they are. I'm willin' to bet, too, that yuir precious to them. 
  Some'a us'r miners, folk who like to dig a wee bit at the surface'n find the 
  gem that lays underneath it all." Tide says to you in a bright and 
  encouraging manner of voice while he watchs you smile, fully and genuinely. 
  Probably the firstt ime he's ever seen that happen, "I value ye as much as 
  anyone I ha'e met 'ere in 'aven. Yuir'n honest lass, 'n'pretty too." he adds 
  to tease you further as his eye winks."

Faanshi's blush deepens, and down goes her gaze, like a sea-bird diving for a 
  fish. "You... um... you said that," she murmurs tinily, flustered and now 
  desperately in need of something to do with her hands. She settles hastily 
  upon taking up her mug of milk and sipping at its contents, though her 
  pacing is awkward as she struggles between conflicting instincts to gulp 
  down the beverage and take her time with it.

The young Sylvan lets out a whimsical, bubbling laugh at your suddenly shy 
  mannerisms while he shakes his head slowly at you. Then, more seriously, 
  Tide says to you, "I can see ye ha'e a wee bit further to go 'fore ye can 
  break outta that shudra mold entirely." his lyrical and lofty voice says to 
  you, not in a derogatory manner but instead seeming more proud of what you 
  have accomplished rather than what you have left to accomplish. In his eyes 
  anyway. "Aye, I did say that. Just as I meant it'n I hope ye take it for 
  true, 'cause it is truth. I try naet o lie 'bout things too awful much." he 
  turns his eyes towards the hound who lazily gnaws at the bones you provided 
  him earlier.

As if the sailor has started speaking another language entirely, Faanshi 
  blurts, "But... I _am_ a shudra--" Looking at Kosha; there's an idea. The 
  hound is slurping away on that bone, but his tail thumps against the floor a 
  time or two as he notices two sets of eyes turned his way and hopes this 
  means that perhaps he might get more FOOD! Food is not, however, on 
  Faanshi's mind at the moment. Obviously not at all accustomed to compliments 
  -- especially recurring ones -- she meekly adds, "Thank you...!"

Long fingers, thin but weathered and hard from years of running ropes and 
  climbing wooden masts, flutter in a dismissal tone of voice. "I mean it, 
  lass. Ye need nae think me for sayin' so, but yuir welcome all the sdame." 
  Tide says with a slight smile from his lips while he watchs you for a 
  moment. "Ye know, beauty does nae rest solely in your face and breasts. Its 
  to do with the way ye speak, what ye say, how ye smell, how ye act... tis 
  part'a e'erything that ye are. S'nae just yuir shape'r any'a that. That's 
  why yuir beautiful, lass, s'cause ye ha'e such a good woman all o'er and nae 
  just in the body." he explains to you, his food and drink done but for tiny 
  scraps and slivers of food. Now he goes to rocking himself back a bit to 
  semi-recline in place while he just speaks to you.

Oh my, it seems Faanshi can turn _quite_ red with her veil off -- for sharp 
  color floods her cheeks as Sunset Tide goes so far as to mention her 
  breasts. Involuntarily, she tugs at her black sari and peeks downward, as if 
  to ascertain that she is still properly attired in that particular area of 
  her person. "I... I thank you," she stammers again, just as relieved to know 
  that the sailor seems to possess an appreciation of more than one form of 
  beauty as she is flustered that he would use such frank language. Or at 
  least, what is frank language to _her_. "I try with all my heart to uphold 
  the holy surahs...!"

Not that he was implying that he has been looking at your breasts, merely that 
  physical attributes that men seemingly place so much emphasis on when they 
  are speaking of beauty. Sunset Tide chuckles at your absent checking of your 
  clothing as he, once again, shifts his hand flittingly, "I'm nae lookin', 
  lass. E"en' if I were I doubt that that I copuld seen anything through all'a 
  them clothes that ye 'rati type folk wear." he says with a playful, joking 
  tone taht is almost pouty. Grinning then his eyes sparkle with mischief and 
  light hearted joy, "I do nae know what they are. One'a them is breedin' is 
  it nae?" he says with a teasing tone to his voice.

"Well... yes, Procreation is the tenth of the holy surahs--" Trust Faanshi to 
  be able to identify each and every one of them, even when she's blushing so 
  brightly one might suspect she'd just held her face close to a fire. "But 
  I-I-I have no mahram or... husband..." All at once, her expression wavers, 
  her eyes going a little lost, saddened.

Tilting his head to the side for a moment the Sylvan watchs you grow a little 
  bit mournful and purses his lips, "I did nae mean to bring up poor memories, 
  lass. I was just teasin' ye." Tide says to you in an assuring tone of voice, 
  consoling you in a gentle manner. "I'm sure one day yuir goin' to find 
  yuirself a fine, uh, mahram." he says the word as if he has no idea what it 
  means. It sounds important, though. So he says it.

Faanshi knows she made a pledge -- in a dream, perhaps, but a pledge 
  nonetheless, and with the clarity with which she recalls it, it counts for 
  her as a pledge within her heart -- not to mourn a certain Mongrel bard. But 
  this does not stop her from needing to close her eyes for a moment, or from 
  needing to pull in a long breath to try to keep herself from shaking. "I do 
  not... think I will ever have a husband," she confides dolefully. "The one I 
  mourn... he... was... the man I wished to... m-marry."

His eyes are bright as he watchs you for a moment as you shift into the Sad 
  Shi mode of life, but Tide shall not allow it! No sirree he won't! "Well, 
  lass, tis always sad to lose someone, leave alone someone ye... were in lo'e 
  with..." he says to you in a genuine, earnest manner while he watchs you 
  with firmly planted lips and then smiles ever so slightly as he says, "I am 
  very sure that ye will find someone who will take ye as wife some day. I 
  know ye could, e'en if yuir nae lookin' for 'em." he says to you simply.

Funny, one of the Agni-Haidar said much the same thing to her -- but somehow, 
  Faanshi suspects that the sort of husband Sunset Tide has in mind and the 
  one envisioned by the Janizar Kedar probably do not have much in common. 
  Continuing to nibble at her food, for she is loathe to ignore it after its 
  maker has gone to such effort, she says in a kind of gentle, wistful 
  resignation, "Not many Varati would want a wife of... tainted blood... and I 
  find that not many who are not of the Children of Fire... want to follow the 
  Amir-al." She looks up again, smiling just a little. This may be a burden 
  she is bearing, but it appears to be one which she has willingly accepted. 
  "I will live out the rest of my days alone if I must... but Ushas has 
  blessed me with friends, and that _is_ a great blessing!" Those summer-green 
  eyes of hers brighten up a bit, now, and she even seems to determine to 
  change the subject, without prompting. "I want to hear about all of the 
  places you've gone to... if you will tell me? At least until I must return 
  to Atesh-Gah today?"

His thin shoulders shrug upwards briefly as your words while he watchs you 
  nibbles so sparingly at the precious food that he has prepared for you. 
  Tide's own aquamarine eyes sparkle in amsuement at your own sudden, though 
  be it partial, levity and interest in his travels. "Aye, tis difficult to 
  find one'a the latter. Bein' as such ye'd be a second class citizen in the 
  ol' Amir-al's world there." he says in his whimsical and lyrical tone of 
  voice, "P'haps ye should consider choosin' a man who's nae quite in line 
  with yuir own... erm... religious preferences?" he says in a suggesting and 
  questioning manner. Then lickinghis lips as he sits back a bit, "What would 
  ye like to hear'a precisely?"

Faanshi spends a great deal of her time being uncertain about many things in 
  the world -- but of the unlikeliness of permission to marry one who does not 
  share her faith in Khalid Atar she has no doubt. Nor is she exactly eager to 
  debate the point, well aware as she is of the fragility of her position 
  between friends in Haven who look at her askance for voluntarily submitting 
  to the will of the Varati... and those within Atesh-Gah who look at her 
  askance for consorting with candala, above and beyond the fact that she is a 
  halfbreed herself. "I shall consider your advice," she promises earnestly, 
  but that's all she devotes to the topic for the time being. Instead, perhaps 
  hoping to squeeze as much new knowledge as she can out of the limited time 
  she has left, she asks in hopeful tones, "Will you tell me... what it is 
  like, to ride upon a ship? I've only been on one once -- and that was to 
  heal someone, at the docks! It wasn't going anywhere." Hers is still the 
  countenance of a maiden in mourning -- but just as detectable within her 
  features is a shy hunger for knowledge that does not often get to express 
  itself. And which does so now, here with this friendly young sailor and the 
  refuge of safety and cheer he is letting her occupy, at least for a little 
  while.

He looks patient and thoughtful as you ask your questions, easily excited as 
  you are the small man is more stable emotionally. That being that he seems 
  to ride on a moderate to high level of amusement or happiness at all times. 
  "Well, ridin' onna ship's nae so hard at all if ye really think 'bout. Aye, 
  she takes some time to get used to, but once ye do yuir more comfortable 
  with her little sway than ye are on solid, unmoving ground." Tide says in a 
  chuckle of amusement burbling forth easily. "Or did ye mean the extended 
  stay on her?" he questions but before you can respond he answers in any 
  case, "S'nae somethin' easy. Ye go for months, sometimes, on dry bread, 
  water'n gruel of some sorts. Ye eat a lotta oranges'n lemons too, which is 
  nae always pleasant." he says with a lift of his brows before continuing, 
  "Sometimes there's storms'n ye think yuir lass is gonna belly up'n smother 
  ye. When I sail I do me best to be in the top, when she full a'sail there's 
  nae much that moves faster'n its a... odd feelin'. Dangerous'n fun."

Listening, Faanshi is able to give her share of the food more of the 
  attention it is due; every so often, she does still peek with appreciation 
  and wonder at the roasted duck upon her fork. But a lot of her attention is 
  focused as well upon the young sailor's expounding, and those generally 
  solemn eyes of hers take on a glimmer of heartfelt interest. Even after 
  three years in Haven, so much of the world is new to Faanshi -- the parts of 
  the world involving sailing included. And when she pipes up again between 
  swallows, her plate almost cleared, there's a tiny shy smile of 
  consideration upon her delicate visage. "I wonder... if it's like flying 
  upon a wyvern! And why must you eat oranges and lemons?"

Your movements are followed by his shimmering, wave-like eyes with an absent 
  interest. Sunset Tide needs something to look at and that is as good as 
  anything, except for the occasional glance at the happy Kosha hound and his 
  crunching bones. "I do nae know, lass. I ha'e ne'er had the pleasure'a 
  ridin' on any one'a the 'rati beasts. I'm told they're traiend to eat folk 
  who are nae like 'rati." he says in a thoughtful, curious tone of voice as 
  though you might know what the truth of that rumor is. "We eat 'em so's our 
  teeth do nae rot out or get scurvy. We're at sea so long we can nae usually 
  get proper meals'n sometimes a fellow'll get scurvy, s'nae too pleasant'n is 
  s'pposed to hurt a bit. S'ne'er happened to me yet." he says and bares 
  glittering, white teeth in his mouth to display the fact of the matter.

She's a sweet young thing, is Faanshi -- but not without powers of 
  observation, when she's in an environment that lets her use them. "I do not 
  know much of wyverns myself," she promptly notes when you pause, sensing 
  that curiosity in your tone, "but they are great fierce beasts, especially 
  the Amir-al's wyvern queen, and they do not like people they do not know 
  coming near them. I have never healed a creature so big before." And even as 
  she speaks, her smile flickers up a bit larger at the baring of your 
  teeth... and wait a minute. Did Faanshi just _giggle_?

Folding his lips back over his teeth for a moment the Tidal One shrugs his 
  shoulders upwards at this, "I suspect that they teach 'em to bite anybody 
  who's nae got the same color skin that they do." he says in a simply absurd 
  supposition while he winks one of his blue-green, sea foam eyes at you. 
  "They're nae as sharp as'a wyvern's, but I bet they serve me fine for the 
  rest'a my life." he says in a continuation of his humor adding a firm nod of 
  his chin at his own words. Blinking a moment he pauses and then says, "Ye.. 
  giggled? I ha'e ne'er heard ye laugh before. S'odd... like some kinda little 
  wee song bird I heard o'er in a forest once 'pon a day."

Well, _that_ makes Faanshi blush and dip her gaze down a bit, but not 
  entirely. Nor does it banish her bashful little smile. "You looked funny," 
  she explains, in utter childlike earnestness, "but your teeth are very 
  healthy! But do not the crews of ships take healers with them, to keep 
  sickness awa--" Then, however, she catches herself, black-saried head 
  tilting. "No...it would be like the plague, I expect. A healer could heal 
  it, but it would come back if you are still at sea and the right foods are 
  not on the ship...?"

Nodding a little bit at your words while he grins to you, "Aye, the better 
  stocked ships can afford healers'a some capacity'r 'nother, some'a the 
  smaller ones normally can nae. Can a healer fix starvation? Nae really. 
  S'the same kind'a principal with this, yuir body is simply nae gettin' 
  somethin' s'needin'. I guess, prob'bly, a healer can hold it off for a while 
  longer but inna end it all comes down to the fact ye just ha'e to gi'e in to 
  the needs." Tide explains to you, guessing mostly based upon his logical 
  analysis of reality. He bares his teeth and makes playful biting motiosn at 
  you from across the table before he winks an eye at you, "Aye, they are. I 
  like eattin' duck. I gotta ha'e good teeth." he explains to you easily, 
  probably in a joke.

There's not much of her food left, but Faanshi industriously applies herself 
  to finishing it nonetheless as you speak. As she does she bobs her head to 
  your guesses, and when she has a chance between swallows she says sagely, 
  "Yes... I had to heal much frostbite during the last winter, but it kept 
  coming back because of the cold. And some of the sick ones during the plague 
  had to be healed twice because they could get the illness again, even if 
  they were healed." For a moment, saying these things, Faanshi gets a 
  somewhat older look in her eyes... or at least perhaps a weary one. But then 
  it goes away at your merry wink. Though she does not giggle again, she does 
  smile, shyly. "The duck was wonderful," she pronounces, of both her emptied 
  plate and the remnants of the bird nearby. "The rest of it... will it keep?"

Sunset Tide nods his head in response to your words as he smiles with a hint 
  os amusement, "Oh, aye. It should keep fairly well, but ye can gi'e a 
  slice'r two'a it to yuir hound as well if ye so desire. He's a good dog, he 
  deserves a bit more reward than just a bone I'd think." the lyrical and ever 
  changing voice of his says to you in a a playful manner. "I'm gladt hat you 
  liked the meal, I made it special for ye really. Put some meat on yuir 
  bones, though it seems I ha'e trouble with the same." he says and shrugs a 
  little bit, "Seems that I'm destiend to be a wee lad all in all."

At the mention of the dog, Faanshi rises again, eyes gentling, to fetch a 
  sliver or two of the waterfowl flesh for him. That's all to the delight of 
  Kosha, who looks up with wagging tail and hopeful eyes from the bone he's 
  practically eviscerated already. Kneeling beside him and letting the animal 
  happily lick fragments of meat right out of her hand, she observes, "You are 
  not terribly small... I have seen many Sylvans in the city smaller than 
  you." Of herself, she comments only, meekly, "I eat enough to sustain me... 
  but this was a very pleasant change." She scritches Kosha and then rises 
  again, once more returning her attention to her companion. "Thank you... 
  again. May I help you clean up before I return to Atesh-Gah?"

Shaking his head a little at your words the Sylvan proffers you an bright, 
  sunshine of a smile as he opens his hands freely while watching you. "Nae, 
  lass. Yuir me guest 'ere'n I'm goin' to keep ye from workin' at all while 
  yuir under me roof as such." he pauses and looks around before grinning 
  again and rising to his feet, "Such as me roof is." comments to you with a 
  wink once more. Leaning over the tint sailor rubs at the base of the dog's 
  ears with his fingertips briefly. Skitchs and food! Hot damn, heaven is 
  surely near. "Aye, there'r a few smaller'n me, but usually younger or women 
  though." he notes and shrugs his shoulders indifferently, not worried for 
  hsi size truly.

Ah, but still, people will make small talk about the strangest things. Even 
  Faanshi.. especially Faanshi, unused as she is to the concept of actually 
  having someone with whom she can freely converse. And loathe as she is to 
  give it up. But now that you're standing as well she draws in a long, slow 
  sigh of a breath, bobbing her head a single time. Regretfully she murmurs, 
  "Then... I should be returning to Atesh-Gah... I am expected."

Looking at you with an honest expression on his face for a moment the man 
  nods slowly at your words, "Aye, I s'pose ye are." Tide says in his quietest 
  little voice while he watchs you and then shrugs his thin shoulders, a 
  habitrual mannerism it seems, "Well, off with ye lass. Be safe, be careful. 
  There's a lotta bad people out there 'n some'a them look like they're good 
  people." he says in a slow manner and then dips his head at you in respect.

That kind of advice chases the remaining levity away from the girl's delicate 
  features, and though she takes up her veil from where she'd lain it, 
  preparing to wind its chain about her head and fasten it into place, she 
  does not yet do so. Instead she looks over searchingly to the Sylvan barely 
  taller than she, his eyes practically on a level with her own, their gaze 
  all the more easily read for being easily within her own line of sight. 
  "Thank you," she murmurs, feelingly. For the dinner. But just as 
  importantly, for the companionship and concern. Because of this meal shared 
  with a friend, something of the tension that seem to lurk all too often 
  behind this solemn maiden's eyes has been relieved at least for a time... 
  and she seems to know it, if that light of gratitude in her eyes is any 
  sign. "I will be wary... and... which god is it, that looks over the sea for 
  the Sylvans?"

His words were meant as a caring warning, much like a friend might tell you 
  to beware walking into ap it of lions or tigers. Tide gives pause when you 
  question him about the gesture, lifitng his chin ever so slightly as he 
  ponders where he picked it up. "I have ne'er really worshipped any gods, 
  lass. I just think to the strength'a me ancestors'n the skills'a me 
  fathers." his eyes watch you cautiously for a moment and then softens, the 
  worry fading from his face as he thinks of how long you've survivedi n this 
  city, "Be well, refuge." he says to you with a grin smattering his lips 
  brightly.

With this, perhaps, the maiden is satisfied. Clasping her veil between her 
  hands, she holds them to her breast and dips her head slightly forward over 
  them, saying serenely, "And you as well, Sunset Tide. Be blessed in your 
  strength and skill. Namaste'...!" Only then does she lift the simple, stark 
  black veil up to fasten it back where it belongs; only then, does she turn 
  to gather her basket and whistle softly to get the dog on his feet. At the 
  door, she peeks back one last time to add, "I hope to see you again... 
  soon!" Her mouth is hidden again, but her eyes are still light with what may 
  be a smile beneath the ebon gauze... and that light stays within the 
  summer's green, even as Faanshi and her hound depart once more out into the 
  day.

[End log.]