"The Beginnings of Rapport" Log Date: 2/12, 2/22, 2/26/01 Log Cast: Faanshi, Salmalin Log Intro: It seems sometimes to Faanshi that death is an inescapable part of her life -- for she is scarcely able to cope with one loss before another comes along to batter her soul. The latest one has been particularly cruel, for her young friend Delilah of Clan Messala has been brutally murdered, and her remains left on the shrine of Ushas. Faanshi has been unable to bring herself to go anywhere near the shrine ever since, and her efforts to organize herself, Mehul, and Salmalin for a journey to go and visit the Sylvans in and around Haven have been derailed entirely. But even as the halfbreed healer struggles yet again to relocate the inner strength several people have told her she possesses, she has accomplished something entirely without her knowing: influenced the disgraced kshatri who has been commanded to work with her, Salmalin al'Sar, to find enough strength within himself to give up the wine that has been his bane... and to reach some conclusions about her that astonish her.... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Afternoon Date on Aether: Saturday, November 6, 3907. Year on Earth: 1507 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waxing Crescent Season: Fall Weather: Chilling Rain Temperature: Cool *==========================================================================* Faanshi might have been handed new duties in the name of the Maharani and of improved relations between the Varati and the Sylvans -- but this doesn't mean that people in Bordertown have stopped needing her. This time the call was relatively minor, a harried young Mongrel lad whose anxious wife had intercepted Faanshi on her way back to Atesh-Gah and asked her to come heal his broken arm. Not too taxing a healing... but still, it means that Faanshi's had to trudge practically all the way back to the embassy again in the rain. And hope that she can still get in a bit more delving into the records pertaining to past relations between the Children of Fire and the Children of Earth. Into the courtyard she slips, Kosha trotting along at her side, apparently unbothered by the November rain. Salmalin watches, from his perch upon the steps of Atesh-Gah, as Faanshi enters. He stands up slowly and seems to be waiting there for her. Hands clasped behind his back he does not seem to mind the cold rain either. Hair slicked down and clothes completely soaked he seems like a drowned rat. There is a dark look to his features, but that could just be the shadows cast upon his face by the clouds. For once he is fully clothed, boots even cover his feet, though they look to be rather old. When she is close enough he calls out, "Good afternoon, Faanshi. I hope all is well with yourself?" Kosha barks affably, wagging a very soaked tail, as he and the young shudra come closer; the maiden starts at the sound of Salmalin's voice, green eyes flickering up for an instant above her veil before their gaze shyly drops once again. There might be a glimmer of surprise in the green at the Voice's presence... or perhaps his clothed, albeit damp, state... though it's hard to read any sort of sentiment from this girl, at least when she insists on keeping her gaze pointed downward at all times. On the other hand, the surprise in her _voice_ is detectable enough, as well as a tremor of alarm. "Namaste'," she blurts. "W-were you waiting for me -- forgive me, I was stopped on my way back, there was a man with a broken arm--" Salmalin smiles warmly and beckons the shudra to continue on with him inside. The rain is rather cold, even for those of fire. He pulls his shirt away from him for a moment and laughs at the sucking sound that is made. As he turns to enter the door there is a noticeable feature to his face now: four long cuts along his left cheek. They seem to have stopped bleeding only recently started to scab. "No. Well.. not until I could not find you. I wanted to ask you a question about the Sylvans, but that can wait if you are tired. I can always go and seek the answer myself I suppose. Though you seem to like looking up information." He shrugs and wipes water from his face. After a moment he stops and says over his shoulder. "With all the people you help it is a wonder you do not start a business.." For a moment, the girl is taken aback, caught between the sight and the sense of the cuts upon Salmalin's dark face -- and his suggestion. But in what appears to be her natural impulse to put the need of another before such shocking concepts as what she should do with herself, she looks uncertainly up and makes a tiny gesture at those small injuries. "Your face... do you wish, I-I mean, if you require healing... I-I should put Kosha in the kennel, though..." The dog, for his own part, looks vaguely disappointed. He wants to go In, if Faanshi is, but alas. He is not allowed within the embassy proper, especially when soaking wet. Salmalin turns around, lifting a hand to his face. He smiles and shakes his head. "There is no need. They will heal soon enough. You should save your skills for more deserving wounds." He looks down at Kosha and frowns. He is just so cute. "We could stay out here if you wish to play with him some more." Starting down the steps he gives a tiny shrug. "Are you hungry? I was about to go eat and was wondering... I am not sure how tired you get from healing, but I know that one friend of mine.. well he said that eating helps." So far there is no indication that he has been drinking, but yet he is babbling on and on about nothing. Is the ambassador nervous about something? "He will be more comfortable in the kennel, out of the rain... as will you...? I-I will be right back, please excuse me..." With that, then, the maiden whistles three soft notes to the dog, apparently a signal to him to get him to fall in at her heel. And with that the black-clad maiden steps off through the rain, guiding the hound off to the kennels. She does not have far to go; indeed, in short order, after she's vanished off towards the stables and the kennels beyond, she's coming back alone and even running a bit, as if she were late for an appointment and afraid of failing to follow an order. Salmalin grins at Faanshi as she is running. "I hope you are not rushing on my account... I can wait for years if necessary." He turns to head inside, appearantly going to go for the food he mentioned early. Holding the door open for her he looks down at his soaked boots for a moment and seems sad that he cannot see his toes anymore. This is definitely not his favorite type of weather. She is, one might suspect, surprised that the Voice waited for her... and for that matter, that he does her the courtesy of getting the door _and_ allowing her to precede him. For just a moment, the halfbreed's eyes are again visible above her soaked veil... then her gaze timidly lowers again, as she murmurs, "I-if you wish to question me, it is my duty to hurry... I... um... thank you..." And she flutters in, like a small black bird, to the waiting warmth of the foyer. You ascend the stairs into Atesh-Gah, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. 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: Tapestries Obvious exits: Royal Wing Hallway Throne Room Out Salmalin passes through the grand double doors that lead out into the courtyard and joins you in the entrance foyer. Salmalin has arrived. "I wished to question you about matters that could wait until another day," Salmalin corrects her gently. He takes in a deep breath as he enters behind her, the door closing slowly. Without hesitation he removes his boots from the soaked feet and holds them in one hand as he moves deeper within the embassy. He can almost taste the food. Looking about he stops a moment and turns to face her, "Am I ugly?" He blurts out all of a sudden. That stops Faanshi cold. "Wh-what?" comes her startled reply -- and a bit louder than her normal murmur, almost loud enough for the ear to get a clear idea of how her voice might sound if she ever spoke up. Salmalin looks at Faanshi with all sincerity and an almost naive look to him. He frowns ever so slightly, "Am I unattractive? Is there something about me that might frighten people away?" "I... I-I..." Oh dear. Flustered shudra alert. The omnipresent veil hides the blush that floods across Faanshi's cheeks, but the way she almost palpably shrinks where she stands pretty much makes up for it. Her gaze plummets straight to her toes -- _hers_ are visible, for she wears her humble sandals even in this weather. And it seems to take her a time or two before she can croak out tinily, "I-I-I am not... very well versed... a-at such observations..." Salmalin nods thoughtfully and sighs. "Of course. I am sorry. It is just that you are the only person.. Well, I guess this means I have to keep trying." He starts again toward where the kitchen awaits them. "So you never look? At all?" comes another question, though he does not stop this time. Because she is still being addressed Faanshi sets herself into motion again, though she hesitates for a moment or two beforehand -- why does the Voice question her this way? Wrapping her arms unconsciously about herself, both to try to help her wet frame warm up and out of reflexive abashed reaction to discussing such a thing, she asks in return, "D-do you mean... at... people in general...?" That is as close as she can bring herself to the notion of herself voluntarily looking at men, the one just behind whom she now walks included. Salmalin waves a hand. "Never mind. Forget I asked... I am just.. today has been very odd," he says quietly. As he goes down the steps to the kitchen he seems to be deep in thought, barely a word escaping him. One cannot help but get the im pression that this is bothering him greatly. As he looks around for something he turns to Faanshi. "I should apologize.. I have been.. it has been a while.. since I last had a drink. Usually.. I mean.. this is why I drink. It helps to keep me calm." The maiden does not quite start as violently as she had at the question about the Voice's appearance... but still, at this, she does start. Her chin even lifts just a bit, though not enough to bring her gaze fully up; then she seems to remember herself and down it goes again, as she follows the young kshatri down to the kitchens. "You have ceased to drink?" "I have tried.. the worst of it is over," Salmalin explains quietly. He licks his lips as though a drink might actually help, but the smell of food is more to his liking right about now. Looking back at Faanshi he gives her an apologetic look. "Usually I go from angry to confused for several days. Then I eat and then finally I just sort of am lost for a while until I find something to occupy my time. Forgive me if I seem a little odd. It has been a while since I have been completely sober." "You do not need to apologize to me...!" This breathlessly escapes the shudra, and apparently she not only means it, but even seems a bit shocked that Salmalin would think it necessary to explain himself to _her_. Again, at least for a moment or two, she seems to feel enough conviction for it to override her seemingly impenetrable shell of shyness. "All is well -- how may I aid you?" Another fleeting glimpse of green accompanies that utterly earnest question, just above Faanshi's still-damp veil. Salmalin looks at Faanshi with some surprise and chides himself silently with a lowering of his head. Of course. His memory seems to fade with the lack of wine. "Oh," he says quietly. Right. He just nods to her as he moves toward a table filled with some fruits and cheeses. Picking at some of them he looks around for a plate, not really paying much attention to the people that scurry about and look at him questioningly. "Have you found any more information regarding these Apisachi? Anything mentioning ritualistic scarring?" If Faanshi is hungry, she does not seem inclined to do anything about it as she and her companion enter the kitchens -- no, she won't try to eat here. Not in front of a number of eyes who would be less than pleased at the baring of a halfbreed visage in their presence. But she follows Salmalin readily enough, despite the shyness of her steps, and she waits patiently while he fetches his own victuals. "I know that they are said to do such things," she murmurs... apparently too shy to speak very loudly in this place, too. "But most o-of the records in Atesh-Gah a-are sparse... if you wish I could go and ask my acarya, though she is more familiar with the Ettowealona." Salmalin finds a platter readily enough and picks it up lightly as he steps back to let a busy shudra pass. Picking up pieces here and there he seems quite comfortable with the effort, not minding much of anything. He nods to Faanshi once he has chosen a suitable meal. Indeed there is a rather large pile now and one that would seem too much for the small man. He looks to the woman following, him and then back at the plate. Satisfied he looks around and finds a water jug sitting by itself. Peering inside he smiles and then picks it up with his free hand. "If we have not killed them it is not important. Truly an interesting insight into these Sylvans. This will prove quite a surprise I believe. Come.. You should sit and at least have something to drink," he insists as he starts toward the steps once more. The healer maiden has to bite back the impulse to offer to carry the food for her companion, very conscious that it may well look odd that the shudra's hands are empty while the kshatri's are laden... but it seems to her that Salmalin probably would not permit him to serve him in that respect. "I... will sit for a time," she assents, though the notion of drinking seems to take her a bit longer to handle. There is, of course, that veil in the way. Her voice goes a little smaller as she hedges, "If... I could find a cup, and a reed through which to drink..." That veil is not coming off under any circumstances. Not in the busy kitchens, to be sure. Salmalin pauses a moment and looks at Faanshi through knitted brows. "A reed? Faanshi.. are you feeling well? Now I know that you need to rest. Come.. you can sit in my room a bit if you wish. No one should disturb you there." Not that anyone really disturbs him there either. Perhaps they just wish to forget about him. He nods once and then heads up the stairs without any hesitation. It does not bother him really if she decides to go sit by herself, he has grown used to that. "Maybe you can tell me more of these Ettowel.. Et.. These Etto Sylvan. Perhaps there is something about them that might help us with the other Sylvans as well." Oh dear; he doesn't understand, does he? Blushing deeply, Faanshi lets herself hold her tongue at least so long as it takes to leave the kitchens, her feet thudding softly against the stairs as she hurries along in Salmalin's wake. By the time she's reached the top of the stairs along with him and the two of them are en route to the al'Sar suite, the maiden's a bit winded in addition to being flushed... but now at least she has the excuse of having climbed a couple of flights of stairs on which to blame her heated cheeks, at least to herself. But only when they are approaching the suite does she murmur sheepishly, "I-I meant... so that I could drink... with my veil in place." And Salmalin's personal liberality aside, she _does_ open the door for him, if he's carrying his own food. Salmalin does stop for a moment as he moves toward his room. It seems for now he has said all that he had to. The food is looked at and the water sloshes quietly as he moves. Perhaps he should have gotten more, he thinks quietly. With a bit of a sigh he decides not to go back and instead smiles pleasantly at Faanshi as she opens the door. As he steps inside he laughs, "That seems rather difficult. Wouldn't you rather drink with it off? I mean.. I would have quite a time trying to drink like that." He kicks off his boots without use of his hands as he heads toward a chair, setting the food and water down upon a small table. Pulling chairs to the table he sits down on one and motions Faanshi toward the other. "I promise not to look.. if you wish to remove your veil. I will not tel" He grins a little then takes a bit of fruit to munch on as he waits on the shudra. She does sit down, though her gaze remains downcast and her sungolden brow crinkled in pensive thought. Faanshi keeps her head quirked towards the Voice as he speaks -- force of habit, for her, can hardly dictate otherwise -- but she says nothing until he has made his promise. And then, all that she can bring herself to say is a very quietly murmured, "It... _is_ a... trifle difficult." There it is again, that stoicism from her, and her brow crinkles up a bit further as if in self-directed consternation that she is admitting even so much as this. Salmalin sighs softly and swallows what he had been eating. As he had promised his eyes remain averted, though it is clear he is tempted. Who would not be? But the Voice does show some self control as not even a flicker of his dark eyes move toward the shudra. He can behave himself once in a while. "You would chastise yourself over the truth? As though to admit something was difficult was the same as denouncing your God." He pulls out a piece of meat and moves it between his fingers for a moment as th ough he contemplated whether or not to eat it. There still remains too much food upon the plate, surely he is not full yet. Looking away further he glances to the shadowy parts of his room. "Just because you are shudra does not mean you cannot have concerns, or feelings. No matter the caste an itch is an itch and we all will scratch if we can. To ignore it and bare the displeasure when there is relief close at hand... one must find comfort as they can because one day someone might command that no on ever scratch again. Does.. does that make sense? I mean.. Must you always be so.. hard? I feel as though I should be saluting you sometimes." Every last one of those words boggles the healer -- though none so much ast the final sentences, which make her start visibly and even peek up over the top of her veil. Summer-green eyes flare with unmistakable surprise, and the shock of the young man's words leaves the halfbreed speechless for a few moments. At last, though, the surprise gives way to a just as palpable uncertainty. When she finally manages to speak, she sounds almost... childlike. "The... Imphadi Warlord of Messala... says I must be strong... a-and Mehul has said... that sometimes strength means you must know when to... rely on the strength of others, but... I... I don't know how... to do other than I have done...?" Profoundly disconcerted, Faanshi wraps slender arms about herself, gaze trailing off across the room. As he eats away at the food on the platter Salmalin takes a moment to push it closer toward Faanshi. Again, he does not look up at her, but it is clear he wishes to. He would never make a good shudra. "I did not mean to..." Oh no, he has done it again. "I was not judging Faanshi. I guess maybe I am trying to deal with my own problems by trying to change you.. It is just so.." Shaking his head he trails off and curls up into the chair. Surely she does not wish to hear about him. She has had such a long day and here he is being selfish. Letting his head lull back slightly he closes his eyes, laughing gently. "You are you and I am me. I suppose there is nothing to be done about that. It just seemed that you need a break once in a while." "If it would aid you... I mean, to speak of your own problems, I would not mind...!" Faanshi straightens up where she sits, seemingly jerked out of her discomfiture by the notion that Salmalin might be in need. The healer in her, or the shudra habits that someone appears to have pounded into her until she can barely think or speak anything else, or some mixture of both? Regardless of what motivates her, concern flashes into her eyes and adds a bit of strength to her gentle voice. She pauses a moment, though, before she appends timidly, "You... speak wisely...!" Salmalin shakes his head slightly. "You do not have to say such things to me Faanshi. I have no need for my ego to be stroked. If I speak like a fool please tell me.. it will probably be better that way." With a smile he curls up even more, resting a cheek on his arm that is draped over his shoulder. The food is left for her and his thoughts wander some as he seems to finally have calmed down. "And as for my problems, they are nothing more than the realities I must face now that I have no drink to hide behind. The truth hurts like the sun when there is nothing to shield your eyes from it." "I say it because I mean it," the maiden murmurs, soft... but without stammering, for once. "What you have said about... my needing... a break, I mean." It's a bit less difficult to admit it, the second time around, though Faanshi now speaks of more trials than just the simple hindrance of a veil to one's attempts to eat and drink. "I think you are the first within Atesh-Gah... who has... ever said such a thing to me." Salmalin's arms tighten for a moment and then he seems to relax a little. Toes curling and straightening he just smiles. For a while he is quiet, almost asleep with his eyes closed as they are and yet his smile does not fade. "No one can endure forever without stopping at least once. Even Khalid-Atar requires respite from his mission.. that much is clear from the histories. Strength is not a test to see how much pain can be endured.. It is being able to do what is necessary when the time comes. Strength is the ability to love yourself and others equally." Sighing softly he seems to be remembering something. "But I ramble off topic. I guess maybe I just have time to notice such things It is not as though I have fancy clothes and courts to occupy my days." As the young man speaks, Faanshi earnestly listens -- though a good deal of what he has to say is not exactly news to her. Slowly, with great trepidation, she slips her hands in under the top of the sari wound so thoroughly about her slender frame, to undo the chain that holds her veil in place. That motion is soundless, but other small noises suggest that she has in fact begun to timidly apply herself to the food that Salmalin has tried to offer her. One thing he says, though, does strike her oddly, and with crinkled brow she murmurs, "I have never heard of... loving oneself being a part of strength." There is a sharp motion of Salmalin's head as he lowers his eyes away form their path. They had been moving toward the woman as if to ensure she was still there and now he just looks away. It is clear he is smiling, though. "Hate and anger are the easiest of emotions. It is simple to think of oneself as beneath another, it is easy to put yourself in a position of servitude because your path is clear. Love, however, is difficult. To know yourself and love what is there, yet remain as humble as any servant... that is strength. I think you have that Faanshi.. it is just.. lost somewhere beneath the propaganda and lies." Finger's touch the back of the chair lightly as he turns to sit with his legs over the arm of the chair. His head presses to the soft frabric of his chair and he smiles even more as though held by invisible arms. "Ultimately it comes down to finding balance.. for that requires the most strength. It is the greatest of tests that many refuse to even strive for.." How could this man be able to make such a conclusion about her? Faanshi frowns, not entirely comfortable with hearing much of what she has been told thoroughout her life referred to as 'propaganda and lies' -- especially by one who is supposed to better by virtue of gender _and_ caste _and_ purity of blood. With tiny furtive motions she nibbles down swallows of food, takes in sips of water... and in between them her voice ventures out again, "You have sought this balance?" Of herself she asks nothing, but now there's a hint of something that might almost be hope in her tone. Hope, and perhaps recognition of the dilemma of which he speaks. "I do.. when I am not distracted, but it seems sometimes easier when I am not looking," Salmalin says with a whisper to his voice. He presses a cheek against his hand and laughs quietly. His toes continue to curl and stretch before him, offering a bit of a distraction that he can focus upon. "It is when I come to the end of a path unknowingly and am able to see what I was meant to see with clear vision that I find balance. It is knowing the truth for myself and finding strength in that... that brings me peace. The best of truths are the ones you discover for yourself." There is a hint of sadness to his voice now, his eyes closing as he looks away from his feet. Arms once more cross over his chest to keep in the warmth of his body as best he can. "Balance for me has been hard to find.. it is almost as though I fear finding it." Faanshi's surreptitious little inroads on the food cease as she goes still, the fine-boned features brought into view by the removal of her veil crinkling up in consternation. "What if," she begins, and her voice is the barest breath of a whisper now, catching audibly for a moment as she struggles with herself to try to find the proper words. "What if... the only truths you can see... only bring a little peace? And mostly just... fear?" Salmalin nearly looks over at Faanshi with a bit of surprise. It is only by some luck that he nearly falls from the chair and so must busy himself with not falling. "Fear.. well that.. my teacher once said that fear is something deep inside of you. It is not caused by anything or any person.. just you and you alone. He called fear 'the other half' as though you could touch it like a lover. I never truly understood what he meant by that. I suppose it is just his way of saying that we all have our fears to confront." This, too, Faanshi knows; others have told her before that all men have their own fears. But there is something she does not know, and she asks in that same oddly childlike tone she'd used before, "How do you make the fear go away?" Has no one ever taught the girl this? "I try to pray... to ask the Amir-al to make me strong." Her head slumps. Disheartened, she concludes, "It doesn't seem to work very well." Salmalin clears his throat and takes on a rather haughty expression, "The Amir-al helps those who help themselves." He laughs at the saying and seems to be recalling some long lost teacher. Amused now and feeling silly he wiggles his toes some more. "You must take the first steps and you must take risks. The Amir-al will be there when you need Him the most, but there is a lot that he must take care of. You must confront the fear, walk through it as though it were fire and there was a life desperately in need of your help. Nothing must stop you. Not the pain, not the despair. Fear is death and death is that which brings you back to the beginning." A very strange expression indeed begins to creep across Faanshi's features as she takes all of this in -- looking perhaps as though Salmalin has just suggested she should strip off her garments and dance through a wyvern pen. For long moments she is silent, her hands now holding nothing but the thick black silk most commonly seen concealing her face from the world. And at last when she speaks again, her tone is strange as well, somewhere between confusion and realization. "I take a risk," she whispers, "speaking to you of these things... showing... my face." Salmalin nods slowly, laughing as well, though not at her really. He seems almost giddy as though he is watching a student read on their own for the first time. "And I hope that it helps with the fear.. that you will not run and hide at the first sign of trouble. Death is the beginning.. it brings you back to the same point in time until you go nowhere. Besides there are greater risks to be made, challenges to be met that go beyond this." He settles back into the chair properly, bringing his legs up so that the bottoms of his feet touch one another. "You are truly amazing Faanshi. Your talents, your gifts and the soul that makes you who you are. One day you will realize it all and yet it will all seem natural because you will have grown into the person you were meant to be." And to this, the maiden makes absolutely no reply at all. She merely lifts a stunned gaze from her veil and stares at the man Thalia Tritonides Khalida has made Voice to the Sylvans... and, gentle as everything else she does but as inexorable as the Fire of the Hawk of Heaven, she begins to cry. Even now she tries to be stoic, features crumpling up in her effort to keep from breaking down; she manages to hang more or less onto her composure, but the tears come anyway, streaking clear wet tracks down her sungolden cheeks. And, finally, she croaks out hoarsely, "Th-thank you...!" It is concern and habit that brings Salmalin to Faanshi's side. A woman's tears, no matter the cause, is nothing to take lightly. Kneeling there without looking at her he offers his silent comfort as best he can. A hand reaches out, but it is hesitant and unobtrusive as though he feared to have it slapped away. "Faanshi.. " Is all he says. It is all he can really say. This was unexpected and unnerving. He had only spoken from the heart what he knew to be the truth as he saw it. Slowly he starts to rise, unsure if he should stay or go. She has been praised before -- by her teacher in healing, by the Mongrels and Sylvans and others in the city she has helped before. But somehow on a half-conscious level within her it is one thing to be praised for her use of the power that Khalid Atar has granted her... and another thing entirely to be praised simply because she is _Faanshi_. Hearing it now, she feels something clenched tightly inside her relax for once, soaking up the knowledge that there is another Varati who seems to think her worthy-- --And then Salmalin is rising, and the force of Faanshi's own habits kick in, hard. Not for this meek healer is so abrupt an action as slapping away a hand stretched towards her in concern, but she does shoot to her own feet in the beginnings of dismay that she has somehow done something wrong. Hastily dabbing at her eyes, she mumbles, "F-forgive me, I beg of you -- I-I am not used to -- I mean, I--" Something breaks within Salmalin and he winces as Faanshi draws away. Pained by the knowledge that his own actions could make her beg for forgiveness he shakes his head. Falling to his hands now he just remains there a moment or two, breathing deeply to control himself. He ruins everything it seems. Finally he just sits down on the floor, leaning against the chair Faanshi had been sitting on. "There is nothing to forgive you for, Faanshi. You have done nothing wrong. Nothing." His voice is full of sadness and dismay, but he tries to hide it and if she could see his face she might know the depths to which his belief in that runs. "I mean that.. if there was anything to forgive you for I would.. just so you might find peace. Yet all you have done is be true to yourself." There is a moment of silence. Two. Then the tread of a sandaled foot... and the touch of a slender hand upon the nearer of the young Voice's shoulders. Faanshi's fingers are shaking, but nevertheless she shyly clasps that shoulder; whether it comes from the healer, the lonely maiden, or the hurt child that lurks somewhere behind her eyes is perhaps difficult to say, but the touch is there regardless. Another moment of silence... and then she speaks, utterly guileless, utterly in earnest. "You have given me a bit more peace," Faanshi assures, soft voice still roughened slightly with her tears but growing firmer. "I... try not to ask for much in my prayers... but... to know that there are at least a-a few of the Children of Fire who... find me worthy... thank you, Salmalin...!" His name, not Imphadi or Sirdar, but his name. Salmalin does not look up, but instead he lets a hand cover her own briefly. It is a fleeting touch.. a silent thank you and assurance of his words before. He smiles at the name.. his name.. from her lips. Looking down further he laughs lightly, "You need not pray," he whispers gently, "you alone make yourself worthy." [End log.]