"Blossoming Fancies, Blossoming Love"

Log Date:
	1/5, 1/7, 1/8/01

Log Cast:
	Faanshi, Mehul

Log Intro:
	In the midst of mourning for the lost Lyre Talespinner Faanshi has
hardly expected to find so quickly another man who might care for her -- 
especially a man of the Varati. But the hunter known only as Mehul has
proven himself to be exactly such a man, drawn inexorably to Faanshi and
causing her to be drawn to him in a mutual flood of shared understanding,
compassion... and powerful attraction.
	What has sprung up between the two of them is almost too powerful
for Faanshi to truly bear -- and it almost frightens her with its intensity,
for she has never felt this way before, not even for Lyre. But in the world
as she understands it marriages have been made on far less of a bond, and
so it seems only right and good to her that she must consider Mehul as a
potential husband, when she has properly mourned her lost Mongrel love. And
she is about to discover that this is a fancy shared and then some by the
hunter who has pledged himself to her protection....

*===========================< In Character Time >===========================* 
             Time of day:  Morning 
          Date on Aether:  Monday, August 28, 3907. 
           Year on Earth:  1507 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Last Quarter 
                  Season:  Summer 
                 Weather:  Clear Skies 
             Temperature:  Hot 
*==========================================================================*

The late August heat lies thick and lazy over Atesh-Gah this morning -- as 
  it's done ever since the sun came up. But the weather never stops Faanshi 
  from rising before dawn to say her prayers, even when she must don black 
  sari and veil, arguably the least comfortable garments a Varati-bred girl 
  could consider wearing on a hot summer's morning. Nor, this entire summer 
  season, has it stopped her from diligently producing her lyre and 
  practicing... but as of late, she's had an audience for such practicings. 
  And so does she have an audience this morning, before whom she's shyly 
  played her scales. Today as well, she's picked out a simple sweet tune, and 
  as she does so, she alternates between diligently studying the strings -- 
  and peeking at Mehul above the top of her veil.

And Mehul, seated crosslegged on the grass before her, stares in rapt 
  fascination as her delicate fingers work intricately over the strings, 
  placing and struming and producing a beautiful array of sounds. It appears 
  almost as magic to this Varati man, though he has heard such things before 
  of course. These, the times he has sat with Faanshi and observed her, have 
  simply been the first oppertunities he has had to get a good look at how the 
  intrument is played, confused as to how strings can produce music. None the 
  less those smoldering charcoal eyes rest upon the shudra woman with interest 
  and affection, his hands folded within his lap.

At the last chord in the melody she's creating, Faanshi lets the tone die away 
  into the air... and simply sits there upon the grass for a moment or two, 
  gazing gently at her companion and drinking in his rapt expression. "You 
  like what you have heard?" she asks in hopeful tones.

"Very much so..." Come the voiced reply, Mehul's deep and milky baritone 
  floating over to Faanshi's ears as his hands fold and clasp in his lap and 
  he lifts himself more upright in his seated stance, pulling from the trance 
  she had trapped him in.

"I cannot yet do it justice," Faanshi humbly admits. "But it is getting 
  easier..." Wonderingly, almost joyously, she peers over at her companion and 
  observes, "You look... like I think I must have, the first time I heard 
  music!"

A flush colors Mehul's cheeks... or maybe it's just hte effect his gaze and 
  head turning downcast has on his demeanor that makes them appear to do so as 
  Faanshi comments upon him and he chuckles lightly, saying only one thing, 
  "Oh?"

"I thought... I thought that Ushas Herself had taken the dawn, and... changed 
  it, so that I might hear it with my ears instead of see it with my eyes, or 
  hear it upon my face," Faanshi offers, cradling the lyre close. "It was 
  singing.... great massed voices lifted up in praise to the Amir-al, when the 
  Clans marched to war in the Empyre. That was... oh, Mehul... so many voices 
  singing together in harmony. I had never _ever_ heard the like...!"

Mehul smiles almost dreamily as he listens, apparently he is not the only one 
  who has a poets heart within him. For the words Faanshi speaks are beautiful 
  and they absorb the Varati man, drawing from him and nod of recognition, if 
  faint, for what she speaks. For though the feelings are genuine, the 
  comparison could use some tuning along the lines of details.

"So many people, besides... it was the first time I'd ever seen..." The maiden 
  draws in a long, soft breath, her head tilting slightly and her eyes going a 
  trifle distant as she draws upon her memories. "Holy Mother... even seen 
  most of my mother's Clan... much less anyone else's. There were as many 
  warriors as grains of sand...!"

"It sounds like it was a truly grand sight to behold." Mehul can hardly 
  imagine that many warriors at one place, for he has been to and seen the 
  vast beaches, and the grains of sand upon them are far inumerable, beyond 
  the furthest reaches of his comprehension and imagination. Still he stares 
  in to her eyes.

Softly, solemnly, Faanshi bobs her head. "I felt... very small... but for 
  once... almost part of the Varati. That even one such as I could be 
  privileged to see and hear such a thing... the only thing that surpassed it 
  was when the Amir-al raised the volcano under Lycenae. Even though I didn't 
  see that." Her voice stays soft as she utters all of these things, 
  reflective, furtive... as if she is confiding secrets to a playmate, almost.

And just as that playmate might listen, so does Mehul, his attention 
  inexplicably drawn to this shudra woman so that he can not pull it away, not 
  even for an instant, his smoldering eyes having come to a permenent rest 
  upon her own. The whole while he smiles as he listens, nodding his head 
  appreciatively.

"I remember when it happened, though," Faanshi breathes, scooting a bit closer 
  to the big man who sits beside her, again as though she were almost a small 
  girl better seeking to share secrets with a playmate... though the periodic 
  shy peeks above her veil with which she still favors Mehul are not exactly 
  those of a child. Innocent, yes... but there is a difference between a 
  maiden grown and a little girl, and in the last many days Faanshi has begun 
  to be reminded of this all over again. "My heart-mother kept me within the 
  tent... we prayed, while the earth shook and the hosts of the armies cried 
  out in praise of the Most High. When we came out again next morning the 
  great mountain had arisen, where once the city had stood...!"

"An entire mountain where there once was none..." It's a breathless whisper, 
  as unconciously Mehul himself slides closer as well, his head tilting down 
  so that he might listen more carefully, as if hearing her words in closer 
  proximity might reveal to him some hidden secrets within them otherwise 
  invisible. "I'd heard stories... but I'd never imagined. I thought, they may 
  have been exagerations." He winces at that a little, realising, that here, 
  in front of Faanshi, such a deeply religious woman, he may have doubted her 
  God-King... that is supposidly his as well.

Another in Atesh-Gah might criticize Mehul -- suggesting that a Varati would, 
  _should_ know better. But this is Faanshi, gentle and patient... and very 
  aware that this Son of Fire has spent more of his life in ignorance of the 
  mighty of the Hawk of Heaven than she has. In utmost earnest seriousness, 
  she nods her head and says, "I saw the mountain with my own eyes, though I 
  did not see the Amir-al call it forth from the ground... but the people of 
  Clan Khalida say that He burned like a star in the skies overhead while the 
  mountain arose under the Empyrean city. After that... the winged ones came 
  to the Most High to ask for peace. It was the first time I had ever seen any 
  of them...!"

How could one man possess such power? Well... he is a God smart guy! Mehul 
  flushes at the mere thought and bows his head in shame instantly, already 
  having done so a little at his obvious ignorence of the way of life that 
  should be his. Many would criticize him and many would call him candala. "He 
  was not wounded?"

"Not that I have ever known... I have... had never heard of anything that 
  could harm the Amir-al, until the infidel Clans rose up against Him and the 
  messenger came to claim to the Queen-Maharani that He was... dead." Faanshi 
  shivers a bit at the memory, involuntarily sketching her sigil of Ushas 
  across her breast. "I feared, when I heard that... but the Queen knew better 
  than I, for the Hawk of Heaven _did_ return for all that His messenger said 
  that a mountain had fallen _upon_ Him...!"

And now a mountain falls upon him??? Some kind of wind-wielder or something? 
  But even still, how could one lift an entire mountain?! "You heard the 
  messenger?" Here Mehul only heard the faintest tales of rebellion, but they 
  were never of any consequence to him. It was something he had no part of. 
  They were not his people. It was an... afterthought.

Yet again, Faanshi bobs her head. "It was the day after the ritual of Invoking 
  the Flame. Last winter. When the Sylvans came and..." A softly blown out 
  sigh punctuates this retelling, though now that that ritual has finally been 
  given a resolution of sorts, it is easier for the healer maiden to speak of 
  it. "And blew dust upon everyone to make them see visions. The Maharani 
  called me before her to speak to me of what happened and what she wanted 
  done to find the Sylvans... the messenger came while I was there! I remember 
  it very clearly. I had to heal him, for he was hurt."

A brow is quirked and Mehul leans a little closer... though speaking at all of 
  Sylvans will get him to do so, and the subject changes, at least for him. 
  "Blew dust to make you see visions?" There are other points of intruige... 
  but none as much as that.

"Yes... they made it, or at least it is thought, from a mushroom that the 
  Sylvans in the city can get. It is why I have had to look for Sylvans for 
  many months now." As she speaks, Faanshi plucks out a few quiet notes at 
  random upon the strings of the lyre, and its voice subtly underscores her 
  words. "Elder BroadShoulders is supposed to show me how it works so that I 
  can take samples of it to the Maharani... or the Amir-al Himself the next 
  time He is in Haven."

"You've been looking for Sylvans for the mushroom dust?" Mehul inquires, quite 
  perplexed now as he leans close still, brows furrowed and lips pursed in a 
  line of contemplation as he attempts to wrap himself around this. "I thought 
  you were to be their ambassador?"

"Oh... you are right, yes... but you see, apparently since I did find them and 
  bring them to the Maharani and the Most High..." Faanshi may well be 
  blushing now, if her voice is any indication. "Part of that seems to be, um, 
  why the Maharani thinks I could be their ambassador at least... at least 
  doing the work. I can't be the _real_ ambassador."

"They trust you though." Mehul states rather than asks, puncuating it with a 
  nod as he moves directly next to her now, his voice falling quiet and calm. 
  "So the Maharani has sent you." Maharani has an odd accent to it, obviously 
  he's not used to speaking such. "And Salamin is just to be a figurehead."

"I know, but..." Her hands go still upon the lyre, and one, shy and tentative, 
  seeks out Mehul's own. It is getting easier and easier to let herself touch 
  him... so much so that Faanshi almost does not think about her fingers 
  seeking his. Easier it has grown, as well, to talk with him. Like this. 
  Without effort or restraint. Easy enough that she can admit and feel safe in 
  doing, "I'm... scared!"

The furthest hand reaches acorss to clasp that of Faanshi's, fingertips 
  instantly beginning the tender and affectioante caress he has become so 
  accustomed to now, so that it seems second nature to him. The other, in the 
  mean time, thanks to their proximity, takes a step further and snakes around 
  her shoulders to pull her to him snugly, squeezing her gently. "I'll protect 
  you..." he whispers... "And be there with you... You don't have to be 
  scared."

She is so small, compared to the hunter. Small enough to be easily cradled 
  against him, small and fragile. "You make it... very easy to believe that," 
  the maiden breathes, turning into the embrace, laying her head against one 
  broad shoulder. "I have... almost never been without some kind of fear, 
  Mehul...!"

And so Mehul enfolds her as completely as he can with arms and body both, 
  still clutching and caressing one of her hands while holding her to him 
  where she has come to rest upon his shoulder, the other gently and smoothly 
  running in soothing lines up and down her back. "You need not fear, 
  Faanshi." he whispers agaisnt her sari, his lips pressing to the top of her 
  head, "I will protect you... I promise. No matter what."

"I believe you," Faanshi breathes, and even though her voice is necessarily 
  muffled by her simply being held against the hunter's broad shoulder, it 
  palpably warms and brightens. "I do feel so safe around you... I never have 
  before around a man of the Varati, ever! I walk in the woods with you, 
  without fear...!"

"You also lay in my arms... without fear..." Mehul pauses there, inhaling 
  sharply as the words, unbidden and unstoppable leave his lips which move 
  against the top of Faanshi's head, sliding along the fabrics of her sary as 
  he exhales and tugs her even closer to him til she can feel his heartbeat... 
  racing... yet calm, and peaceful, at rest with her so near him. "Til my last 
  breath... I promise you... I will protect you..."

Faanshi has enough presence of mind to carefully set her instrument aside -- 
  and that leaves both her arms free to slip about Mehul's big frame, her 
  touch as soft as her voice. "Protect me from being alone?" she whispers.

And as that other arm laces around him, another long exhalation leaves his 
  lips and washes over her in gentle waves a kiss following it upon her sari. 
  He could not resist. "Yes..." he whispers in reply... feather soft, 
  squeezing her hand as well as her body while rubbing her back... "For the 
  rest of our lives..." Our... he speaks of them as one.

"'Our,'" Faanshi repeats, and a noise that might almost be a giggle escapes 
  her. She gives Mehul a squeeze of her own, though her arms are hardly as 
  strong as his. "I still think I dream each time I think of that...! Do you 
  know... how often I have prayed th-that Ushas would send me a husband who 
  would n-not only not look ill upon my blood... but who my mistress would 
  look upon with favor? I-I-I still do not know... if I would have been 
  permitted to marry Lyre...!"

"Oh Faanshi..." Mehul whispers as she speaks, hugging her close to him and 
  nuzzling his face down upon the top of her head, sighing heavily against her 
  body, his heart pounding with sympathy, compassion... and... love. "I want 
  to, and I will be your husband... if you will have me. I would never look 
  ill upon your blood..." he pauses, his voice catching in his throat as the 
  next words slide slowly forth in the barest of breathes, "For it isn't your 
  blood I have found myself in love with... It is you..."

_That_ brings Faanshi's head up, a gasp underscoring the movement, her gaze 
  seeking out Mehul's as surely as her hand had searched for his. "What... did 
  you say?" she blurts tinily, eyes going wide above her stark ebon veil.

Mehul swallows, his entire body tensing as she shift within his arms and 
  attempts to look up at him. He can't for a moment, looking away for fear of 
  regection... but... she has not left his embrace, has not pushed herself 
  away from him. "I..." he whispers, turning those smoldering charcoal eyes, 
  glimmering with a suppressed moisture... "I said, I have fallen in love with 
  you, Faanshi...." So weak is his voice, yet the emotion that it flows 
  with... it is imesureable.

She probably should not be surprised. But nevertheless she is, and Faanshi's 
  shock registers quite clearly in her fathomless eyes. For a long moment she 
  can say nothing... and then she brings up a hand, fingers trembling, to lay 
  it against Mehul's dark cheek. Humbly she breathes at last, "I... I-I-I 
  cannot... think of something to say that does not make me sound like I'm 
  babbling... oh, Mehul... you're sure?" Ushas, what a question! Blushing 
  vividly now behind her veil, she strokes his cheek with her sungolden 
  fingers.

That touch.... steam rises off those smoldering eyes as the moisture of 
  captured tears colides with that invisible heat. His head leans in to it, 
  and it is difficult to halt his lids as they begin to descend. "Yes 
  Faanshi..." Mehul continues to whisper, his voice falling all the more 
  hushed by the second, til it's nothing but a whisp, a rasp of pure and raw 
  emotion. "I love you."

Not the first time she's ever heard these words -- but that doesn't mean that 
  they have a lesser impact for Faanshi. They fall upon her soul like rain 
  upon thirsty earth, soaking in and giving life and green shining warmth. 
  Almost giddily, she murmurs, "Mehul.... I-I don't... I don't know what I've 
  done that Ushas has sent you but you answer my prayers...!"

Mehul nearly chuckles, smiling at Faanshi now with all the affection and 
  adoration he can muster within himself, squeezing her hand before lifting it 
  to his lips to assult it with tender kisses. "Oh, Faanshi..." he whispers at 
  last, shaking his head and sighing audibly... He... is the answer to her 
  prayers. "You don't know what it means to me to hear you say that..."

Is that a shine of delight kindling in her eyes? The corners of them are 
  certainly crinkling up, hinting strongly of a smile beneath the black veil, 
  and her hands readily turn about in Mehul's grasp as she tries to best place 
  her fingertips so that she might once again touch his face. "I can see joy 
  in your features," she breathes, "and can begin to see...!"

Joy... It is an understatement. Elation would be more appropriate for the 
  quivering mass of raw unbriddled emotion that rolls off the flawless dark 
  chocolate skin of Mehul's face. "See... what, Faanshi...?" he breathes, his 
  heart racing, pounding, his chest rising and falling with the quickened pace 
  he is forced to compensate for.

"See wh-what it might mean to you... what... you hope for... with me. Mehul, I 
  just hope I can give it, I-I-I do not know what kind of life we will have 
  together but I can begin to see it in my head...!" Faanshi abruptly and 
  impulsively then curls her arms about him again, hugging him close, wanting 
  to feel the rumble of his voice against her. The warmth and solidity of his 
  flesh. Long and long did she go without her Mongrel bard's arms to hold 
  her... and part of Faanshi now clings to that sensation of physical presence 
  and support, drinking it in as quickly as she'd done his proclamation of his 
  emotions.

Arms hold her, enfold her, and pull her to his chest, as though he could wrap 
  himself completely around her and burry her within his soul to embrace her 
  completely with his presence and being, where she would be safe... forever. 
  "Oh Faanshi... I love you!" he says it again, his body shuddering with the 
  sheer force of it as he does so, a release... a beautiful release. It feels 
  so good to say it again. Never has he possessed such affections before... 
  never has he experienced such a thing before. Never alone again, never. 
  "Tell me what you see... please...?" If only...

"You want to hear my foolish fancies?" is the maiden's half-shy, half-hoping 
  reply, and again there's something almost like laughter in her voice. Even 
  this, however, sounds practically plausible to her hearing. So safe is 
  Mehul's embrace that words she never thought she'd hear herself utter seem 
  to bubble up within her with the greatest of ease.

...she would... "Foolish...? Not at all, Faanshi, not at all." the Varati 
  protests, squeezing her small frame tightly, pressing her even more to him, 
  hudling her up against his chest and keeping her there while his lips brush 
  the top of her head again as his shakes. "Tell me... please." He pauses... 
  "If you do... I will tell you mine." ... say it too.

The movement of the healer's head can be felt as well against Mehul's 
  shoulder. "All right," she can be heard to murmur, and although the shyness 
  lingers in her voice there is rising eagerness to go along with it. "The two 
  of us... living peacefully in Haven... so that I-I-I may continue to serve 
  Clan Khalida and speak with the Sylvans here... and children... perhaps we 
  will have children....!"

Children... children... "Faanshi..." Mehul interjects, looking down at the top 
  of her head as though he could see through to her eyes and suddenly scorning 
  the sari and veil for how it obscures his vision of her. "I would love to be 
  the father of your children... /our/ children..." He pauses then, settling 
  his face back down upon where her hair would be, his lips pressing in for 
  yet another kiss to be placed there.

"Propagation is the tenth of the holy surahs," Faanshi agrees -- and it may 
  well be that none but Faanshi could utter such a pious sentiment and mean 
  it, in a simultaneously pious _and_ eager fashion. "And oh, I want to have 
  children, I do...! Children who can live safe and happy in a place where it 
  will not matter if they have my blood... Mehul..." Up come her eyes again, 
  and now there is no doubt that they are shining. "Can you see yourself as a 
  father?"

He can in all honesty... playing with his children, teaching him the ways that 
  he learned out in the woods, to run... definately to run, how to survive, to 
  hun-... Hunt. No, no, no! For a moment the man's heart stops, skipping a 
  beat before resuming its normal patterns. "I would do my very best, Faanshi. 
  My very, very best." He meets her gaze, that shinning gaze, his smoldering 
  eyes not boring in to her, but yet enveloping her with their warmth, taking 
  her in to them and drinking from those forest green pools. In that one 
  instant... the cackling madness, the shadows and darkness had nearly 
  overtaken him with the words of his own father, those haunting, terrifying 
  words. His children... Hunters... The Graisha must die! But.. no... not the 
  same torture... not for them... not for Faanshi...! They MUST DIE! NOW! 
  Whatever had been is gone now, however.

That surge of madness... the maiden does not see it. It roils up within and 
  goes again without touching the limpid verdant gaze meeting Mehul's charcoal 
  stare. Her trust is not perfect, not yet. She has been betrayed before by 
  ones who have appeared to love her... but the seed of perfect trust is still 
  there. And now, now that Mehul has lavished her ears and her heart with his 
  emotions, the seed is unfurling a few tendrils of life. "And I-I-I-I would 
  not mind," she babbles then, her eagerness getting the best of her, "if you 
  took other wives... it is the way of the Varati, you know... because of the 
  tenth holy surah! I could help them bear offspring as well... I've helped a 
  few women in Bordertown, you know...!"

Other wives?! The thought had never even occured to him... apparently he has 
  much to learn about Varati society and the way it works. Why would he want 
  another wife anyway? He just shakes his head in response, not sure how to 
  answer that without causing some hurt within the woman he has just confessed 
  his love to, so instead... he continues on... "Faanshi..." a breathless 
  whisper as eyes smolder and gleam... "Could you remove... your veil...? I... 
  I want to see you... Please..."

She cannot possibly refuse him, not now. Her hand lifts up, slipping in behind 
  her sari to unfasten the delicate chain that keeps her veil in place. Down 
  it comes, gently lowered, bringing her nose and her mouth in view. Without 
  once taking her gaze away from his, she bobs her head slowly... and each 
  corner of her mouth turns shyly upward.

"You... are so beautiful Faanshi..." comes the breathless whisper as Mehul 
  shakes his head in disbelief at the vision of magnifisence that is before 
  him. Both hands raise then, coming to cup either cheek, thumbs working in 
  small caresses over her delicate features ands mooth skin... "So 
  beautiful..." he repeats, even more quietly, while those hands then begin to 
  slide further back, attempting, taking hold of her sari, to free the 
  remainder of her head as well... her hair in particular.

There is so much of it to free, as well -- for all that she keeps it confined 
  in the braid so often tucked down within the folds of her sari. But deft 
  hands can find that braid, can bring the black tresses into the morning 
  light. Faanshi gives a little gasp, her gaze dropping shyly for a moment at 
  the feel of Mehul's hands upon her hair, but she does not try to make him 
  stop it. Indeed, her head tilts just a bit _towards_ his hands, drawn 
  inexorably to their touch.

And those hands run through what hair they can, stroking it when they can't, 
  one however emerging again to cup and caress her cheek, a finger hooking 
  about her chin to hold her there and force her to look up in to his face, to 
  see the light shinning in his eyes and the smile upon his features which 
  reaches up and illuminates them brilliantly. "You are the most 
  incredible..." He stops, shaking his head... there simply are no words, none 
  that would be anything other than an understatement.

"You are beautiful too," Faanshi declares then, in a rush of warmth and 
  timorous but no less heartfelt admiration. She can no more help that 
  utterance than she can breathing -- it is inevitable, what with the way his 
  veritably incandescant expression washes over her. Soft is her hair, soft 
  and thick and dark -- how long would it be, freed from her braid? Little 
  bits and wisps of it escape the braid here and there, curling about her 
  hairline, or before her mutilated ears. Would her hair be straight or wavy, 
  if entirely unconfined?

Mehul decides to find out... with those same, deft, tender hands, he sets to 
  the task of undoing Faanshi's braid, all the while forever holding her gaze 
  and staring in to her eyes. "I love you, Faanshi..." he whispers again. How 
  he adores simply hearing himself say it! It's incredible... the rush of 
  emotions that sweeps over him. He cares not that her ears are mutilated... 
  infact... no, he resists the temptation... for now.

Only before Mehul is she brave enough to bare her head -- and bare her ears -- 
  to open view. But before Mehul, neither does Faanshi care that she still 
  bears the handiwork of the Warlord Hashim upon her person. Rapt, she draws 
  in another soft gasp as her braid is undone, liberating long black strands 
  to fall like charcoal silk over Mehul's fingers... and they're wavy ones, 
  long loose waves that ripple along the lengths of that hair and give it 
  added shape. A smile blossoms forth into being, all of her features now as 
  liberated as her hair, and since Mehul's hands are occupied she puts her own 
  to the task of gently stroking each side of his face.

Still his arms are wrapped about her, the insides of his elbows locked at her 
  shoulders, keeping her safe and secure within that constant embrace, but his 
  fingers, they flow with those wonderous waves through her hair, delving in 
  to and running through it's entire length, defining each soft and silky 
  strand while he stares in to her eyes. His lips become wetted by a nervous 
  tounge. He wants to kiss her... but this kiss... this kiss wont be much like 
  the tentative ones he has shared iwth her before... that he can tell. But 
  she is so beautiful...

This, too, surges through the hunter without any sign of awareness from the 
  maiden -- or does it? She is beginning to tremble ever so slightly in the 
  security of his arms, for his proximity and the intensity of his expression 
  both combine to intensify the pull he has upon her. The hand in her hair 
  adds in a final layer of captivation, a potent physical one that makes it 
  very hard for her to do anything but cling to him, her heart's pounding 
  increasing in force and speed in her breast. "Mehul," comes her whisper, and 
  it's barely a breath.

"Faanshi..." is the last word he will utter for some time within his 
  breathless whisper, for as his hands stroke and slide through the endless 
  waves of her cloud-soft hair, he leans quite suddenly down upon her, locking 
  his lips to her and capturing her in a kiss... a heated, passionate kiss, 
  one that communicates, more so than his words probably could, the love he 
  feels for this woman. It lingers, and it lingers, and Mehul's eyes have shut 
  tightly brought down from the sheer rollercoaster of emotion which he rides 
  now, his heart throbbing, pounding within his chest, reaching out of his 
  body to touch that of the maiden's so that they might become one.

Speech is now impossible, breath almost as much. Faanshi grows dizzy with the 
  force of the kiss, and it doesn't help in the slightest that the arm that's 
  pulled her close has set off a flurry of sensations in hitherto quiescent 
  portions of her person. Reaction shudders through her, for she has never 
  been kissed like this. Her arms cling more tightly to Mehul's muscled form, 
  involuntarily seeking steadiness... for to Faanshi, it seems that her entire 
  body is turning alarmingly pliant, about to melt in the embrace and the kiss 
  that have captured her.

So firm is the kiss, yet so yielding is the flesh as the two mingle and 
  collide in a flurry of passion and tenderness, their lips locked, embracing 
  eachother in a hold that in taking a life of its own, refuses to let go. 
  Mehul lets out something resembling a moan in to the maidens mouth, a 
  shuddering breath ripping through him until at last... it is broken, so that 
  he might breath again, his arms still clutching her tightly to him, but 
  giving her enough slack so that he might stare down in to her eyes while his 
  chest... his entire body for that matter heaves with the effort and he 
  struggles to regain his wind. Charcoal orbs smolder and burn with a 
  brilliant invisible flame riding wave upon wave of intense and throbbing 
  emotion. He loves her.

Even when her mouth is released, Faanshi does not yet manage to regain steady 
  breath; she can feel Mehul's chest heaving against her own, and she dizzily, 
  dazedly fancies that he is somehow seizing mastery of the very workings of 
  her own body. That she breathes because he breathes. That the very shape of 
  her person is defined by where he places his arms against her. And that the 
  strange heady intermingling of fire and chill within her, a potent 
  combination that begins to make her acutely aware of the outline of her form 
  against his own, is surging through her blood because his touch has brought 
  it to life. She does not even think to label it for what it is: desire. For 
  now, the maiden does not have enough space to think to do that, and so there 
  is nothing but the captivated enchantment in her expression as Mehul absorbs 
  it into his being. Her eyes have gone wide and glazed, her cheeks flushed, 
  her mouth full and soft.

Her first brush with such potent desire? For his chest does indeed heave 
  against her own, her soft, supple flesh pressed to him and back to her as 
  both of their bodies mold and conform to eachother with each breath taken, 
  with each of the most minute of movements that shift one person or the 
  other, sending off another flare of impulses and sensations through either. 
  Mehul... for one, has almost begun to sweat from the heat of it, his body 
  tingling and before he knows it... his lips have bowed again to capture 
  hers, to rub against and capture hers, to taste and savor hers within him. 
  And another low moan follows as one hand moves to the back of her head, 
  still burried within the flowing waves of her hair, the other continuing its 
  long journey of caresses.

Not entirely innocent of desire in general is Faanshi, oh no. She has looked 
  before upon men and found them pleasing... but looking is one thing, even 
  sharing chaste kisses with a man she hoped to marry. But this... this is 
  something different altogether. It gives her no room to breathe. No room to 
  think. No room to do anything but pliantly melt against the one who holds 
  her, held securely in his arms while he drinks deeply of her mouth. It takes 
  command of her just like...
Her magic, which surges into life under the onslaught of unfamiliar sensations 
  flooding her slender form. But there is nothing _wrong_ within Faanshi, and 
  so it crackles out through her and into the Varati man, seeking a channel 
  through which to spend itself. It finds nothing there either, and so must 
  content itself with burning away every tiny hint of exhaustion or wear in 
  his body until it courses back into Faanshi...
Leaving the maiden feeling all the more magnetically pulled to the hunter. 
  Bound to him. And when he next looks at her face she looks even more 
  dazed... almost intoxicated.

"Faanshi..." Mehul breathes between the panting breathes that now take him as 
  he stares at her, in to her, through her, equally as dazed and captivated 
  within her beautiful green eyes, equally as intoxicated by her, her feel, 
  her taste, her smell... just her presence. Never has he felt sensations like 
  these before, never has he felt such searing heat inside himself! But no... 
  nothing is wrong. He swallows hard, with apparent difficult, pulling her to 
  him slowly, firmly, sweat adorning his brow now visibly. "... faanshi..." 
  again.

His voice is just enough to bring a bit of Faanshi back to herself. Owlishly 
  she blinks, while her pulse pounds with the speed of a hummingbird's wings 
  within her throat and she must think for a moment of how to make her _own_ 
  voice work. "M-Mehul?" Tiny, breathless, almost helpless, she utters his 
  name almost like an invocation... though whether it is an attempt to reach 
  an anchor in the midst of the sensations that have gripped her, a request 
  for guidance, or a breathless whisper of need is anyone's guess.

Hopefully it is not for guidance... for if it was... he could not give it. 
  Mehul is as much an infant at this, if not more so, than Faanshi herself. 
  But none the less, he now delves downward again, following his earlier 
  impulse and pressing his cheek to hers, takes that stub of an ear in to his 
  mouth, showering it with gentle, tender, and affectionate kisses, while his 
  hands, still burried in her hair, pull her quite firmly to him. Not only 
  does it not matter that it is mutilated, but he will give it the same love 
  that he would the woman who owns it.

A miniscule whimper escapes the maiden at this, the feel of such attentions 
  upon her ear. Held so firmly, she can scarcely move -- much less breathe -- 
  but somehow she manages to lift up an arm and wrap it around Mehul's wide 
  shoulderblades, clinging there almost in desperation. And since she is held 
  so, it is dizzyingly easy to feel the sharp quiver of reaction that shoots 
  through her and makes it nearly impossible to speak. But she tries, mumbling 
  in a breathless squeak: "Mehul... should... should we..."

"What...?" It's breathed upon her ear in a voiceless whisper, taking with it 
  the heat and passion of his breath as it rolls in to and over her skin in 
  waves. But that is the only pause, for Mehul resumes then, kiss after tender 
  kiss upon the remnants of her ear without the slightest bit of hesitation or 
  disgust. He assults Faanshi, raining down on her affections and love through 
  a puckered embrace, echoing her own shiver as she tightens her embrace about 
  him, feeling her there, pressed to him, hearing her heart as clearly as it 
  were his own which throbs and pounds, racing within his breast.

"I-I-I don't know..." Ushas, how difficult it is to think when he's doing 
  that! Her last word trails off again into a whimper, another tremor shooting 
  through her. The maiden's breath pants out against Mehul's strong dark neck, 
  and it seems to her as though she is inhaling him with every bit of air she 
  takes in. That her body is turning to water, molding itself against Mehul's 
  own -- wildly, she wonders what kind of magic he must be working, that she 
  is reacting to his attentions like a tree to a Sylvan shaper. Her voice 
  scoots up in pitch as she squeaks out, eyes unfocused, "Someone... might... 
  see...?"

Now it is down to her neck that his lips move, blazing a trail of passionate 
  kisses upon her flesh as he arrives at her jawline, sliding beneath it and 
  steadily, his hands moving to clasp either side of her head, fingers still 
  tangled in her hair, pulling her and her melting body to him, against his 
  chest, heaving against her, his entire body shaking, quivering in her 
  embrace. It's time the other ear received the same treatment, and as he 
  rounds, having ducked his head beneath hers, he captures it, suckling, 
  caressing it with the briefest and tender brushes of his lips.
"We... could go somewhere... more private...?"

Her magic is still roused up within her, and now it shoots up into Faanshi's 
  ears, old slice-scars there tingling violently in reaction to her power -- 
  and leaving her acutely sensitive to what's happening to _both_ of her ears, 
  not to mention the baritone voice that rumbles into them. Within, it is as 
  though a tiny hurricane envelops her, starting behind her eyes and gusting 
  down through her blood; without, she makes another of those tiny whimpers 
  while her body jolts against Mehul's own, head arching back, her throat 
  baring to him. "Mehul... you... I... can't think... I..." Tiny, high-pitched 
  words, all of these. And then she forgets to finish, eyes glazed, her form 
  pliant... but still crackling with aether, filling with dizzying promise the 
  slightest contact with her skin.

Every time her body shivers, his echos it, heaving beneath her in its 
  entirety, pulling her, bending to and with her and he moans quietly in to 
  her, before at last shifting again. Fingers take over the caress of 
  Faanshi's ears as her neck is bared to him, too tempting to pass up. His 
  thumbs runn over and along them, massaging and rubbing tenderly, while tips 
  still manage to burry in her hair, tilting her head just slightly further 
  back as his bows. For a moment he only stares at her sungolden flesh, the 
  breath passing from her mouth to her lungs, feeling it in her chest as it 
  rises and falls against his, panting as well and bathing her in passionate 
  heat. But lips part, and Mehul finds them enveloping that smooth soft skin, 
  kissing at her throat, his tounge onconciously coming out to lightly, but 
  greedily lap against her, tasting her.

Enlightenment does not dawn in so many words -- but nevertheless _so this is 
  what it's like_ blazes across the back of the young healer's mind while one 
  of _her_ hands travels up to delve into the thick dark hair that crowns the 
  one who so ardently embraces her, seemingly the only anchor she has against 
  falling into a bottomless chasm of sensation. Something about it all 
  nevertheless tugs at Faanshi's consciousness, a lingering tendril of a 
  thought that keeps her from surrendering entirely -- for all that it would 
  be easy, all too easy, to submit to the loving attentions Mehul lavishes 
  upon her. Somehow she manages to find the breath to gasp his name, and then 
  she stammers, "W-we can't... we... can't..."

Her words fall upon him like a cool rain, a shower of awareness that shakes 
  him from his heated stupor... not immediately though. For a time his ravages 
  of her neck continue, lips traversing the entire expanse of her skin until 
  at last, with his breath, they begin to slow, eyes opening to blink and 
  refocus, smoldering with an unparalleled intensity. And hard as it is with 
  her hands burried in his hair, her body protesting her mind to keep him 
  where he is, his head lifts, slowly, til it is level with hers. But he needs 
  one last... Forward he moves, lockign his mouth with hers in one last 
  furious kiss, breaking away to press his sweat drenched forhead against her 
  own while he pants and continues to cup her face in his hands, his arms 
  embracing her tightly. "I'm... I'm sorry... Faanshi..." It's also at this 
  time he realizes how suddenly uncomfortable his clothing is. He needs to 
  bathe.

Breathe. You remember how to breathe, do you not, shudra? The mind says that 
  she does, though her body balks at the effort required. Captivated, she 
  bends into that last kiss before at last managing, with profound effort to 
  come up again for air. "This... these things... what husbands and wives do," 
  she whispers huskily. But now there's a strain of regret in her gentle tones 
  even as she makes herself breathe, "W-we must wait for them..." Still, a 
  tremulous smile quivers across her kiss-softened lips. "You d-do not need to 
  apologize...!"

What husbands and wives do... His sweat drenched forhead nuzzles against 
  Faanshi's as Mehul struggles to regain his breath, refusing to let go of his 
  tender grip upon her face which holder her where she is, which allows him to 
  feel her, the blood within her veins, the beating of her heart, the 
  miniscule movements of her features as she speaks and trmbles. He wants to 
  experience it all. "We will wait... Faanshi..." he whispers, apology, if no 
  longer voiced, carried within his tone. "We will wait..." He swallows hard, 
  allowing himself one last quiver within her embrace, "I love you... Faanshi."

She lifts a hand off him -- but only far enough to lift it to his cheek, 
  needing as strongly as he does to feel the heat of skin against skin. His 
  voice, his expression, and most of all the smoldering fire in his charcoal 
  eyes, make it exceedingly difficult to do anything but succumb to what still 
  roils through her system. As he rasps out his assent to her softly babbled 
  words, her shaky smile grows a little wider. Faanshi cannot call it relief, 
  exactly, that courses through her now -- but still there is a sweet sense of 
  _rightness_ that comes with hearing Mehul make the promise he does. 
  Gratitude wells into her already brimming eyes while she breathes, "Blessed 
  in the name of Ushas and Her holy Son... my heart will be your own, Mehul... 
  when my mourning time is done...!"

Mehul nearly cries out as the hand is lifted off to him, that loss of contact 
  and sheer presence which has filled his entire being with an incredible 
  warmth he has never before felt, though still he holds her within his arms, 
  feels her body against his, the beating of her heart. The heart she said 
  will be his own! All that stops it is the caress upon his cheeks, which he 
  leans in to and sighs, nuzzling further against her sungolden forhead, his 
  thick black locks sliding amongst her own. "Oh Faanshi..." He wants to 
  cry... wants to shed his tears with the woman who now completely owns his 
  love and devotion. "I will wait... I would wait my entire life for you..."

She _is_ crying now, tears beginning to spring up in the leaf-green eyes 
  locked into Mehul's own, but behind them that shine persists like sunlight 
  bursting through treetops wet with rain. With it comes Faanshi's rarest, 
  most brilliant smile, given wing by the elation that's swept over her. All 
  she can think of for a moment is a dream that came to her in the night -- 
  her beloved Mongrel bard begging her to be strong, to live her life, for 
  there would be joy coming to her. _You were right, Lyre,_ comes the giddy 
  thought even as she flings her arms about Mehul's neck and hugs him close 
  and warm, crying, "You do not have to wait that long...!" _Dearest Lyre, you 
  were right...!_

[End log.]