"The Simple Needs of Life"

Log Date:
	10/13/00

Log Cast:
	Starfang, Faanshi, Raging-Storm

Log Intro:
	With the news of the death of her beloved Lyre, Faanshi has fallen
apart to such an extent that her teacher FallingStar is deeply concerned for
her -- and has point-blank ordered her to stay with her for the time being
in her herb shop, even going so far as to send word into Atesh-Gah as to
her whereabouts and invoking her authority as an Adept in healing to keep
the young maiden away from her usual duties. Faanshi, barely able to keep
from yielding to the burden of her grief, has not protested; indeed, the
halfbreed is sorely adrift, reeling not only from Lyre's death but also by
the abrupt departure of her mistress Thalia from Atesh-Gah. Rumors abound
as to why the Maharani has left Haven... but no one has seen fit to inform
the humble shudra who serves her as to the truth of the matter. And so far,
no one has seen fit to call her back to the Varati embassy, either.
	Faanshi is therefore left to her own devices, and to try to make
herself attend to the simple needs of life despite the loss she has 
suffered. Needs like those of her dog Kosha, and those of a wounded 
stranger....

*===========================< In Character Time >===========================* 
             Time of day:  Morning 
          Date on Aether:  Wednesday, March 26, 3907. 
           Year on Earth:  1507 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Waxing Gibbous 
                  Season:  Early Spring 
                 Weather:  Breeze 
             Temperature:  Cool 
*==========================================================================*

City Park - Haven
     A large, well-manicured lawn covered with soft green grass provides some 
  respite from the daily hustle-and-bustle of the city. Along its perimeter, 
  beds of blue myrtle grow underneath a row of willow trees to the northwest, 
  with a small path leading back streetside. A hedgerow delineates the 
  southern boundary some hundred feet away, and a break in the hedge allows a 
  view into a smaller, more private garden.
     This area is generally used for large public gatherings and social 
  events, such as public performances or the huge festivals of cairds that 
  flock to Haven throughout the year. At more quiet times, it is frequented by 
  common folk and aristocrats alike, and most notably, the Sylvans seeking 
  brief escape from the confining streets of Haven.
Contents:
Starfang
Kosha
Obvious exits:
Street <O>  Garden <G>

Sitting on the neatly kept lawn with her knees drawn up, Starfang watching 
  passers by, while her mind wanders. Every now and then, something people do, 
  or a snippet of conversation will make her smile, and her eyes twinkle with 
  mirth before turning back to her more gloomy ponderings. Whatever she's 
  thinking about, it does seem to have her on edge, at least on the inside.

To be sure, Kosha isn't particularly on edge about anything. It's springtime. 
  He's a dog. And he's outside. As far as Kosha is concerned, this is more 
  than enough reason to romp. He comes pelting into the garden at top speed, 
  all senses alert, but not for anything in particular at the moment. No, this 
  big puppy-at-heart hound is running simply because he _likes_ it. Run run 
  run run run run run!
By stark contrast, however, the figure that follows the dog into the park 
  moves quite listlessly and slowly. Faanshi is keeping Kosha in sight, but 
  only just, and the look of consternation and frustration in the girl's 
  gentle gaze is distinct despite the veil that conceals the lower half of her 
  face. Perhaps, she tells herself fretfully, it was a mistake to take Kosha 
  out... but he did need it. And truth be told, so did she, going half-mad 
  with nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company in the shop this 
  morning.

Raging-Storm approaches along the path from the street.
Raging-Storm has arrived.

Raging-Storm
Raging Storm, is tall and lithe, his hair is as dark as a moonless night and 
  his eyes seem to sparkle with a fire of their own. His movements are swift, 
  graceful, nothign surprising there considering his Sylvan ancestory. Yet 
  there is something different about him. Storm seems to carry with him an 
  anger a rage that seems barely held in check. It can be seen in his 
  movements as just barely controlled fury, it can often be heard in his voice 
  as cold rage. 
The clothing he wears makes one think of a ranger or hunter. Dark browns and 
  greens remind one of ancient and dark forests. Upon the shoulders, knees and 
  elbows of his outfit are patches of jet black fur. Upon his shoulders is the 
  full pelt of a large black hunting cat its head acting as a clasp sits over 
  his heart the eyes of the beast have been replaced with two green stones 
  that seem to catch the light and throw sparks of green fire.

Starfang's eyes find Kosha as he runs as if there was no other reason to be. 
  And maybe there isn't, for that lucky dog. A spark of recognition alights in 
  those same eyes and her eyes dart about, looking for and finally finding 
  Faanshi. A beginning smile falters as she sees the state of the woman. She 
  frowns and stands from the fresh lawn, starting to slowly make her way to 
  the woman.

Raging-Storm walks into the area, his dark eyes seemingly searchnig for 
  something he might recognize. Obviously new to the city he is surprisingly 
  immune to its seeming wonders.

Run run, run run run, run run run run run run! Kosha pelts across spring 
  grass, wagging his tail at Starfang for no other reason than the simple fact 
  that she's there and she looks friendly; if this is at all surprising for 
  this particular young Sylvan, that's certainly beyond the ken of the dog. 
  But in the meantime Faanshi -- not exactly a wonder of Haven, though her 
  Varati silks do rather stand out against the delicate greenery of spring -- 
  has to pause even as her big canine burns off his excess energy. She 
  probably _could_ run after him. But at the moment, she just can't summon up 
  the desire to do more than watch him. The shudra girl squeezes her eyes 
  shut, scowling tinily at herself under her veil, and scrubs a hand across 
  her eyes. When she peeks up again she chances to espy Starfang seeming to 
  head toward her; if she hadn't already stopped, that would halt her in her 
  tracks. Green eyes gone dull above her azure veil, the tall young halfbreed 
  blinks bemusedly at the other young woman, almost as if she doesn't 
  recognize her, or at the very least is stunned to see her here.

Starfang forces a smile for Faanshi, although a worried frown is more visible 
  on her face. She doesn't ask after anything, though. "Chookma, sister of the 
  fire people." Everything about her, every little muscle in her body is 
  screaming at Faanshi about how she's worried and wants to know if she's 
  alright. But, in the interest of keeping the Varati girl at ease, she won't 
  pry.

Raging-Storm eyes flick to the charging dog and rest there for a moment, he 
  moves towards the hedges then stops and turns around and looks back at the 
  people in the park. His eyes wandering from person to person seeming to 
  inspect and catalog them all. Finaly his eyes rest upon Starfang and he 
  frowns slightly.

Come on, brain. You know this person. Faanshi's sungolden brow crinkles up for 
  a moment above her eyes, more in self-directed frustration that her ability 
  to think seems to have deserted her these last many days. But at last 
  comprehension dawns, and with a shadow of her usual formality, the halfbreed 
  clasps her hands at her breast and bows slightly unsteadily to the other 
  healer. "Namaste'," she whispers. "Chookma...!"

Starfang tries hard, and fails, to untense. One can see the effort it takes 
  her to not ask after what's wrong. "Uhm. Nice day, isn't it? Right?" She 
  puts her hands in the small of her back, where they continue to wring. "Nice 
  day. For a walk."

Raging-Storm continues to watch the two converse his attention seems to focuse 
  more on Faanshi than on Starfang, he seems to scrutinize her very carefully, 
  her movements her gestures, the strange lilt of her voice.

Starfang
Cold, hard eyes.
Despite her freckled, upturned nose and her stubby figure, those eyes are most 
  noticable on her. Burning with anger more out of habit than anything else, 
  one would almost expect the green irises to turn red. Wearing a simple, 
  wide, drab brown dress, her stubby figure is only betrayed by her feet and 
  ankles poking out from beneath, protected from the streets by simple, 
  durable slippers. About her left wrist is a surprisingly well-made bracer 
  sporting a vastly less well-made dagger in its sheath. But it _fits_. Some 
  might notice how the leather is shaped instead of sewn. Her long golden 
  brown hair is held back in a string that might be a braid. Her tan skin is 
  oddly clean for her appearance, but the foulness of her mood counters that 
  perfectly. Covering the top of her head is a large dull green cloth, the end 
  of which falls down her back almost as far as her braid. It covers her 
  forehead and is held up by the pointy ears common to most Sylvans.

"It is a-a good day, I have brought Kosha out to walk in the park... he needed 
  it...!" The dog in question, now that his mistress appears to have stopped, 
  looks back curiously in her direction -- but only for a few moments. Kosha's 
  more intent upon gamboling out, sniffing at this, inspecting that, and 
  peering over at the _other_ Sylvan he can spy, the one not talking to 
  Faanshi. Kosha flicks Raging-Storm a tail wag on general principles, panting 
  in doggish amiability.
Faanshi, in the meantime, seems unaware that she's attracted the scrutiny of 
  more than one set of eyes. She focuses upon Starfang, gazing down at her 
  with a liquid intensity that suggests that the simple fact of making 
  conversation is something she desperately desires... or perhaps that she's 
  half-afraid the shorter healer might vanish before her eyes. "Y-you are 
  well?" she breathes shyly.

Starfang hrms. "I guess... I'm alright." That same edge returns for a while, 
  "So Kosha's enjoying the park a lot. Hm. How's it going with the learning 
  stuff? Getting any better?" It's fairly clear she's not able to pretend she 
  didn't spot anything wrong with Faanshi.

Raging-Storm eyes flick from Faanshi to Kosha, and he frowns slightly, its 
  clear the animal belongs to the veiled being and ignoring it would be a 
  mistake. He frowns contemplating the animal for a moment then focuses again 
  on Faanshi.

Not so far gone in her distress that she cannot at least sense something of 
  the moods of those around her, Faanshi dimly realizes that Starfang's 
  expression is one of acute concern... and her gaze drops down in 
  embarrassment at herself. Reflexively, her slender arms wrap themselves 
  loosely about her willowy frame; she must, she scolds herself sternly, try 
  to pull herself together. "I-I have improved the strength of my magic," she 
  whispers out tinily. "My p-power still grows... your own...?"

Starfang shrugs. "I've... been busy with other things. I dunno, tho, it's 
  always been slow going for me." A small smile, "I'm sure you're already far 
  better than I'll be for months to come." She sighs, "I guess I'll get 
  there.. slower than you, but I'll manage to learn the stuff that matters." 
  Another shrug. She doesn't seem entirely comfortable with the subject...or 
  is that still worry over Faanshi?

Raging-Storm's ear seem to perk at the words of the women. His frown deepens 
  then his face seems to clear, or clear as much as it can and he picks up a 
  large stick. Stepping out from behind his hedge his attention shifts back to 
  Kosha, he whistles softly to get the animals attention and waves the stick 
  in the time honored tradition of a kid wanting to play.

"There is always much need for healers," Faanshi can be heard to murmur, 
  though it's almost by rote rather than any conscious control over her 
  tongue. She's still standing there unthinkingly hugging herself, and her 
  gaze shifts off Starfang a bit; in the spring sunlight, even with the veil 
  hiding her nose and mouth, her eyes look shadowed and tired. What's wrong 
  with this girl?
There's nothing wrong with Kosha, though. The big dog's ears perk up at 
  Raging-Storm's whistle, and he trots investigatively closer. Especially when 
  he spots that stick.

Starfang frowns deeply, almost asks, "Well, yes, it's true. I mean. Healers 
  are always welcome. Erm. So did you have a busy day so far?" Hm, yes, great 
  conversation. Very distractive. Not like babbling at all. Nopenope.

Raging-Storm bounces on the balls of his feet, waving the stick before the 
  large anmil, if he had a tail it would be wagging to show his desire for 
  play. His bouncing takes him slightly closer to the two women then he raises 
  the stick and tosses it away.

Kosha's enthusiastic bark shows his support for this Stick Tossing Plan, and 
  with a whish of his proud tail, the dog practically spins in place before 
  scampering off for the twig. The sound of that bark makes Faanshi start, 
  though, not unlike the rabbits her hound is so fond of flushing out of the 
  brush. She marks the location of the big dog... and then the location of the 
  Sylvan who's evidently decided to play with him. To Starfang, she answers in 
  small plaintive tones, "FallingStar h-has asked me to label all of the 
  bottles of herbs in the shop, but I am not done yet... Kosha needed his 
  walk..."

Starfang nods. "Yeah. Well, he's pretty happy..." She turns around and sees 
  Kosha has found someone to play with and manages a _sincere_ smile. "Well, 
  someone's having fun, at l..." She bites her lip, then coughs for no real 
  reason. "Uhm. So. I bet you know a bit more about herbs than I do, huh?"

Raging-Storm continues to bounce lightly on his feet s the large dog dashes 
  after the stick, he slowly moves towards the two women trying to get a 
  better listen in on there conversation.

"I was taught... some by my heart-mother, and by FallingStar... as..." With 
  that, though, Faanshi trails off. Her gaze is more solidly upon that distant 
  figure near her rambunctious dog now, and her brow might be seen to crinkle 
  up in a different kind of bemusement. Evidently she has forgotten what 
  Starfang was saying, for she just stares in the male Sylvan's direction for 
  a moment or two. And then she begins to tremble. "Hurt," she mumbles tinily.

Starfang frowns, looks at the apparently unencumbered Sylvan over there. 
  Seeing the distance, her brow raise as she looks back to Faanshi. "You can 
  feel it THAT far?" Surprise, as well as awe, is evident in her voice and 
  face. "Want some help?" She's... deferring to Faanshi?

Raging-Storm brow furrows, and he stops bouncing, he glances at the two women, 
  and realizes that they are talking about /him/. He mumbles something under 
  his breath and turns towards the entrance of the gardens. His feet set out 
  on the path towards the exit, the playfullness out of his bearing, and his 
  shoulders seemingly set.

"I... he does not... he has not come to ask..." Even more than seems normal 
  for her, Faanshi appears stricken with indecision. But even as she peers 
  unsurely at the Sylvan across the way, Kosha bounds back over to him, stick 
  in his jaws. Hey! You! Where are you going? The Throw the Stick Game isn't 
  done yet!

Starfang understands what Faanshi says, sees how he's walking away, doesn't 
  know if/how bad it would be. Hm. Doubt, indecision, hesitation... does she 
  even _want_ to find out? Well... the man's not having any trouble walking, 
  and was seeming to be quite active. Not the marks of a dying man. With an 
  unsatisfied sigh, she shrugs. "Fine, I guess it's not that bad, anyway."

Raging-Storm stops and looks down at the animal blinking, he relaxes slightly 
  and grabs at the stick, then tries to wrest it away from the large animal. 
  "Give me that." he growls playfully at the animal. He seems to have 
  forgotten about the women's notice focusing again on the dog.

Ooh! Wrestling! Kosha knows this game, and his tail picks up in speed of wag 
  as he tugtug tuggitytugtugtugs at the stick. Torn, Faanshi watches the dog, 
  and at last stumbles in that direction. Her eyes crinkle up more distinctly 
  even as she draws nearer to the Sylvan man... and her gaze drops swiftly 
  downward in a manner Starfang's already seen more than once, even before 
  this day. "Kosha... Kosha, be a-at peace," she calls out shyly, sounding 
  almost as if she's afraid of drawing Raging-Storm's attention to her. "Leave 
  the imphadi be..."

Starfang almost seems tall as she walks at Faanshi's side, showing no signs of 
  being shy, or insecure. She does seems to be anticipating something nasty, 
  though, as she walks closer and closer to Raging-Storm.

Raging-Storm continues to pull on the stick his teeth gritted in an almost 
  pained expression. "Give it," he growls softly, "give it, give..." he lets 
  go of the stick quickly, and straightens, his breathing slightly shallow, 
  his skin slightly pale. His eyes close as he seems to be concentraiting on 
  something.

He _is_ hurt. Panic strikes Faanshi for a moment, a desire to just go 
  somewhere and curl up and hide -- but regardless of whatever's reduced her 
  to this strangely disoriented state, she _is_ a healer. As she comes near, 
  though, the dog barks again, leaping happily towards her, stick still 
  triumphantly clenched between his teeth. Maybe she'll throw it? But the 
  shudra glances just a little wildly back and forth from dog to man and back 
  again... and with profound shyness she murmurs towards the latter, 
  "I-imphadi... do you require a healer...?"

Raging-Storm eyes fly open and his head snaps in the direction of Faanshi, he 
  sways slightly on his feet. and raises a hand to his head shaking it to try 
  and clear away the stars that have covered his vision. "No.." he says to her 
  his voice soft yet seeming to lack any form of conviction.

Starfang now comes close, now feels what she feared to feel. Her eyes narrow, 
  she pales a little herself. "Look.. you... You're not alright. We can have 
  you _be_ alright, right now. No longer weak, no longer wavering like an old 
  man. Come on... don't you want to be rid of that?" Don't you want to rid her 
  of this sense of pain and weakness?

Raging-Storm he lifts a hand in warning to them then opens his eyes looking at 
  Starfang and Faanshi. His eyes narrow as he stablizes, "You are of the 
  Delphi?" he asks them.

It is difficult at the best of times for Faanshi to insist upon aiding someone 
  if they tell her no, especially if the afflicted person happens to be a man. 
  Now is not the best of times. The Sylvan's refusal of her timid question 
  seems to throw her for a significant loop, and she shoots a pleading gaze to 
  her smaller companion as if desperate to take a cue from her as to how to 
  pursue this. "I... I-I will step back, if I am objectionable, Imphadi..." 
  And then the girl starts violently, wide-eyed, shaking her head dumbly back 
  and forth. Delphi, it seems, is not who holds claim upon this tall maiden in 
  silk.

Starfang seems uncomfortable at the mention of the name of That Place. "I'm 
  not. Does it matter? Whoever comes to you, they can take away those cuts, 
  and whatver else you'd rather see mended. You shouldn't turn people down 
  just because you don't like them." A hand wraps about Faanshi's elbow, as if 
  the small woman could ever hope to support this Varati.

Raging-Storm looks from Faanshi to Starfang his eyes search their faces and he 
  nods his head once and steps towards them. A quick movement that brings him 
  to stand just before the two women. This close a dark staind can be made out 
  upon the side of his chest just underneath his arm.

Kosha, now that all three of the two-leggers appear to have decided to 
  congregrate, circles hopefully about them. _Somebody's_ going to throw the 
  stick again, yes? Unfortunately, at least for the time being, the hound is 
  due to be disappointed. Faanshi only glances uncomfortably down at her pet, 
  finding him a far safer place to rest her gaze than a strange Sylvan man. 
  Her eyes do not, however, lower so swiftly that it cannot be seen that 
  they're as green as Starfang's, eyes that would look equally at home upon 
  the smaller healer. She says nothing else at the moment, but instead stands 
  there meekly, her arm in the other woman's grasp.

Starfang lets go of Faanshi, stepping forward, with some difficulty, "Best if 
  you took that off, so I can put my hands on the cuts. It's easier for me, 
  that way." She doesn't even consider to look to Faanshi, now, and her eyes 
  are filled with strained focus. "I can't imagine walking, or even 
  _standing_, if I had those."

Raging-Storm head held high glances down at Starfang then begins to undoe the 
  laces of his tunic . When he is finished he pulls the garment over his head, 
  as he does so he inhales sharply, as scabs are pulled from cuts to new. 
  Along his right side from armpit to waist is a long deep slash freshly 
  reopened, while along his back from shoulder to hip is another deep wound, 
  dried and caked blood covers both wounds and it is surprising that this boy 
  is still alive. He lets the tunic drop to the ground and continues to stare 
  into the distance.

Shy though Faanshi might be, mourning though she might be, she cannot help but 
  be affected by the Sylvan's stoic, grim baring of his injuries. She starts 
  again, breathing out, "Holy Mother... Starfang...? D-do you wish me..." The 
  halfbreed girl cannot quite finish the thought, but it's obvious enough what 
  she means. Does the other healer need her aid? Watching all of this, now, 
  the dog pauses his scampering. Blood. Eew. With a sneeze, Kosha drops the 
  stick.

Starfang places her hands on the cuts, right in the middle. Her eyes close, 
  she breathes deeply, then relievedly as the pain is taken away. No more 
  pain. Good. Just an amazingly wonderful feeling. Much better than pain. It's 
  almost possible to forget gaping wounds with blood dribbling over Starfang's 
  hands. They start to creep shut, very, very slowly. "I wouldn't mind a hand 
  at all, even if I could manage without." Despite her absent face, her voice 
  rings with complete clarity. At least the bleeding has stopped.

Raging-Storm doesn't move continuing to look straight ahead as he is 
  administered to.

Timidly, then, Faanshi inches forward to lend her aid to the smaller healer. 
  Her touch is far more uncertain -- at least, until her sungolden hand 
  reaches over to connect with Raging-Storm's nearest shoulder. And with that, 
  a roil of power swells up from within the willowy maiden, entirely at odds 
  with her skittish demeanor, bolstering up Starfang's own magic and extending 
  its strength. Evidently Faanshi does not actually need to see the damage, 
  for her gaze is still solidly lowered to the ground, and in fact, her eyes 
  are squeezed tightly shut.

Starfang smiles as the aid comes, giving no other reaction to it. "You're a 
  fool to have walked with this for this time. You could've been dead by now. 
  There's no shame in seeking help to _live_. Really. You can't count on some 
  healer just happening by to notice you're dying, despite pretending not to 
  be." As she berates Raging-Storm, the wounds have lost their depth and are 
  starting to creep shut faster and faster.

Raging-Storm stands seemingly taller, his breathing is easier, his eyes lose 
  an aspect of something, anger hatred mistrust. As he feels the pain ebb from 
  his wounds and the wounds themselves sealing together. His eyes though do 
  not move to the two healers he continues to look straight ahead seemingly 
  awaiting the word that they are finished with their work.

Like Raging-Storm, Faanshi says nothing. But it is arguable that her motives 
  for silence are different... and simpler; the girl still radiates a sense of 
  helplessness and panic, and despite the flow of power she's putting forth to 
  bid the Sylvan man's flesh mend itself, her frame is shaking now. Only her 
  hand remains steady, and once it drops away, her magic content with what 
  she's done, those delicate fingers begin to tremble as well. "H-he will be 
  well," she mumbles, mostly under her breath.

Starfang doesn't let go as soon as Faanshi does, instead checking and 
  rechecking for traces of injury, removing every single little tiny one she 
  finds. Arguably, that's a waste of time and effort, but she does it anyway. 
  "You can go wash, now." she says as she pulls her hands off the man. Her 
  hands are soaked with blood and she bends down to wipe them on the grass. 
  "You cn even put your clothes back on, if you like to forego the washing." 
  She shrugs and stands, her hainds stained a tinge of green, now.

Raging-Storm looks from one woman to the next, then he bends down and picks up 
  his tunic. He does not put it on yet just holds it in his hands. Again he 
  looks at the two women, he considers them for a moment, then says softly. 
  "Thank you." turning he moves out of the park.

[And with that accomplished, it does not take much to persuade Faanshi to
 flee back to the sanctity of A Moment in Thyme... never thinking to try to
 explain what troubles her to the anxious Starfang. End log.]