"Pushing Into the Light" Log Date: 11/28, 12/14/01 Log Cast: Faanshi, Tanith Log Intro: Ever since she has come back from the Apisachi bringing Salmalin al'Sar safely with her, the soul of the young shudra healer Faanshi has had to make a hard journey. Among the forest-dwelling Sylvans, arguably for the first time in her life, she has begun to learn something like bravery and resolution... or at least, to learn them consciously, to be able to display them in a manner befitting one who has been given a task by the Amir-al and His Maharani to carry out. She _has_ succeeded... but now, an entirely new and entirely unexpected sort of upheaval has swept across Faanshi's life. Khalid Atar and Thalia Tritonides Khalida have left Haven, for good -- to reign full-time in Masada. Faanshi has been left word that she may seek to join the Ushasti if she wishes, for she has served Thalia well... and she has been bidden to continue to serve Clan Khalida as she has served the Varati Queen. But the new Pasha in Haven, not to mention the rest of Clan Khalida, have given no sign that they wish Faanshi to serve them in the odd capacities that she has done for the Maharani... or even to serve the Clan with her magic. And on top of it all, Salmalin has abruptly disappeared again, without a word as to his intended whereabouts, and even as she combs the city for him in between her healings in Bordertown, Faanshi finds herself deeply adrift. And wondering if, at last, it is time for her to leave the shelter of Atesh-Gah, and find a different place for herself in the world. Hers is a heart that is in sore need of advice... and fortunately for Faanshi, there is one in Bordertown ideally suited to give it.... *===========================< In Character Time >==========================* Time of day: Noon Date on Aether: Monday, April 16, 3909. Year on Earth: 1509 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Last Quarter Season: Spring Weather: Partly Cloudy Temperature: Comfortable *==========================================================================* Propylaea - Temple Shop - Haven Once a place of majesty and elegance, this long atrium now lends an entirely different tone to its environs. No more is the unearthly grace present that was once fostered by pristine marble given a ghostly glow by the touch of the sun. Instead, grapevines twine overhead on a strong lattice, turning the light within to a warm gold-green as the sun shines through. The large impluvium in the center of the room stands full of fresh water and lillies floating on its surface, while the area around it abounds with verdant growth. Moss and other plants grow untouched on the walls in any space where dirt has been able to collect over the years this temple lay untenneted, but the floor where it remains intact has been cleaned and restored, its mosaic in golden, orange and red tiles picking out a sunburst that fills the room. Earthy scents have long replaced any hint of ancient incense; the rich smell of loam and green, growing things hangs heavy in the air and heavier still on hot days. Even in the cool of winter it is clear that the walls and lattice above will provide enough shelter that the heartier growth will remain. Contents: Kosha Tanith Obvious exits: Street Cella There are not too many places in Haven where Faanshi feels entirely comfortable in prayer. To be sure, there is a temple to Khalid Atar within Atesh-Gah as well as a shrine to His Holy Mother... but in all honesty, the young woman has never felt entirely at home within the fiery splendor that is the Amir-al's sacred place, and it has been many months since she was able to approach the altar where a friend's remains had been left by a callous murderer. And now, with the Amir-al and His Queen -- her own mistress -- leaving Haven seemingly permanently, she is at loose ends. She has not ceased her praying, oh no... but more and more of it she has begun to do out in the green growing places of Haven. The old city garden. The park. And now that she has discovered this temple that the Sylvans appear to have reclaimed... this place as well. Today, as Kosha sniffs about bemusedly nearby, the shudra has stolen quietly into its leaf-shadowed heart, in search of peace. She sits at the edge of the impluvium, gazing pensively into the depths, studying a solitary lily caught in a shaft of sunlight. A whistle sounds in the air, hanging crisp on the wind as though made by a breeze. However, it is merely an old woman standing at the entrance of her garden leading into the cella. From the open windows of the temple she can be seen moving towards the temple... possibly be seen speaking to a few other sylvans before they blink out of sight. Keen scent or hearing, rather than eyesight, leads the woman up the path to the temple, soup bone in hand. "Chinchookma," she calls, then, "chookma, Kosha... Your mistress inside then?" The dog's attention is seized by his name -- and his name together with a _bone_ is a powerful enticement indeed. Tongue lolling, he lopes heavy-pawed to Tanith's side, too well-mannered to actually grab the bone, but gazing fixedly and with unmistakable yearning upon it. His ringing bark offsets a bit of the temple's quiet sanctity, but then, he is a dog, with a dog's innocence. Not quite innocent, not anymore, are the eyes of the maiden who starts at the sound of the canine's bark. Not quite so skittish anymore is Faanshi, either. She starts, but only a little, and only enough to raise her head and glance towards the way she'd come in, to see who might be approaching. When she does, something crosses the green eyes above her scant veil, and she rises silently to her feet. Tanith is content with speaking to the dog first. "Well, you look fine, Kosha. Yes. Hm. Fine indeed." Known not to starve anyone who looks like they need it, Tanith hands over the bone with a quick scratch behind Kosha's ears. Her dark green gaze is steady as it alights on the younger woman. Senses far beyond eyesight take in the more noticeable changes, but she doesn't pry into anything that might give her more insight or edge. There is no need. Nothing floats in the air longing to be found out - any longer. Tanith smiles and nods. "Chinchookma, child." For a moment, for just a moment, something that could perhaps be pleasure flares up in the green eyes of the shudra woman; she does not smile, but something close to it eases the delicate lines of her face, able to be glimpsed even through the light veil that is her habit to wear now. And without hesitation she steps over closer to the ancient, inclining her head formally as she answers, "Chinchookma, Grandmother... namaste'. I am pleased to see you." Tanith chuckles. "Well. Those-who-walk-beneath-the-trees have taught you a thing or two, hm? This is good to hear. But I have not seen you in many... what do they say? Moons? Pah. You need to fill me in. I feel quite left to the dirt." Now what crosses the expression of Faanshi can only be chagrin. It might be noted perhaps that although she does ruefully dip her gaze aside at this exhortation, she does it for but a moment before those too-old eyes of hers rise up again to Tanith's aged visage. "You... have come in search of this?" she guesses, delicate brows crinkling, before she then gestures to where she had been sitting, just a moment ago. "Would you wish to sit, then, to talk?" The hound, for his part, has already claimed a spot near the lily-bedecked impluvium, and is ecstatically gnawing away upon the gift of the bone. Seeing him, Faanshi adds softly, almost wryly, "Thank you... for thinking of him." Tanith says "I think too much. It comes with age, child. You will see." Tanith nods and then shrugs. "I have come because I felt someone was here. I knew a dog was here - but that it was you, this is merely honey on a sweetcake." It isn't often that Faanshi hears herself considered a bonus to something already pleasant -- but the Faanshi that might once have blushed horribly at such a comment is gone. This one still doesn't quite smile, but she does dip her gaze modestly for a moment as she murmurs, "Thank you again, then." And again she invites, gesturing with one slender hand, "Would you wish to sit?" She is young and strong, and might stand for hours if the situation dictates. She has, in fact, frequently done so. But Tanith is an elder, and if Tanith wishes to speak to her, well. Far be it from the maiden to sit down first. "I do not need to." Tanith frowns. "What is on your mind... I cannot but feel... blocked. Perhaps it is then, I have disturbed you." Satisfied, Faanshi respectfully inclines her head, and while her dog slurps happily away on the bone, remains standing at the old Sylvan's side. This time she does not look away, and instead gazes somberly down at Tanith for a few long moments while she looks for words. At last she quietly shakes her head, saying, "You do not disturb me, Grandmother. If anything... it brings me a bit more peace to see you. That is what I sought, when I came here." Now she gestures about, to take in the temple and the green growing things that have overrun its walls. Tanith nods, looking at the temple as though she had not seen it in some time. "Grace did a good thing with this place... although not what she had in mind. She reaches far with her vision, but is still young enough to realize she can change things in mid-stride." Her gaze rests on Faanshi. "You are always welcome here, you know." Grace. Faanshi searches her memory for the name, but by now, she is accustomed to having lost bits and pieces of it, ever since her time among the Ettowealona. The name does not return to her, but she does not fret over whether this means it was there to lose to begin with... or whether she'd ever known it. Instead she simply solemnly nods, lifting up her gaze to where the early afternoon sun filters down through leaf and new-growing vine. "I think," she answers musingly, "that at least part of me knew that..." Down her attention comes, to the little elder. "The part that drew me here. But I am relieved to hear it." Another level gaze from the elder. Then a bit of a smile. "Hm." She is a different creature, this maiden with eyes full of secrets and far older than the young face in which they reside... yet, still enough _Faanshi_ that she is just a trifle bemused by the steady scrutiny upon her. Beneath her light azure veil a hint of consternation creases her features, and it seems to take her a few moments to figure out what she might say. "I apologize for not coming to you before," is what she finally settles upon. _That_ perhaps is familiar Faanshi, the issuing of an apology. "I should have done, when I came back from the Apisachi. But things have begun to change within Atesh-Gah, for the Varati...!" Tanith says "I... know about a grande leaving. And I do not fault you for not coming sooner... I have had," how to say it? "Notions of turburlent times for you in the past. I merely wondered. I've no claim to you." "The Amir-al and the Maharani have left to Masada," is Faanshi's reply. For a moment, for just a moment, she might perhaps seem almost... bereft. But whether it is due to the leaving of the rulers of the Children of Fire or due to that one terse word to describe her recent life is not immediately obvious... not until she pulls in a breath behind her veil, eyes darkening a bit as they settle their attention upon the dog. That too is Faanshi, the habit to gaze at what she loves the most when her heart is troubled. "Turbulent is a word for it, I suppose," she whispers. But then she looks up again, and that is part of the different Faanshi, it seems. "The Eyotajolon fare well? Yourself, BroadShoulders, the others?" Tanith says "We change like the weather, which is to say, we change not at all." A casual remark about the tribe that so few outside their own know about. "We watch the sun rise and set." A change of topic for the elder as she walked to one of the high, broad doorways of the impluvium to look outside. "Did you know that the Sylvans will have an embassy?" It is almost a pleasure to be able to nod to this, tiny though the sense of gratification at an accomplishment might be. "Yes, Grandmother... though I have heard much..." How to put it? Her heart-mother _did_ teach her not to say anything, if one could not say it nicely. "Bemusement that the Sylvans would need one." But then, there has also been a considerable amount of 'bemusement' that the Sylvans would need an ambassador from the Varati, for that matter. "I think it is a fine idea." Tanith says "It is a fine idea... for those who... oh those prickly forest dwellers who cannot survive a day in the city without coniptions." She shrugs. "It was presented in good faith, and will be accepted as such. A place for you to come to contemplate, when you will it." After having firsthand experience with a particularly prickly variety of forest dwellers, Faanshi can't help but make a rather odd little expression -- a crooked little quirk of her mouth that might, on a person of more overtly vigorous nature, be called a smirk. But nothing of that enters her gentle voice when she speaks next. In fact, there comes about her a momentary sense of distance, of remoteness, as she admits, "This place... is the first I have found in some time where I have been comfortable taking solitude. Not quite city... not quite Sylvan. It is like me." Tanith lets out a breath. She looks around the place and has to agree. "Grace is very talented in growing things." It's a bit of an understatement. "I am glad this place is here... and so close to home. Both our homes." The halfbreed maiden turns slightly, those shadowed eyes of hers now resting their gaze fully upon the little elder. She says nothing for a few long moments, simply letting the sentiment ring in the air between them both; at last, however, she draws in a breath. And she says softly, "Atesh-Gah is the place where I sleep. Haven is the only real home I have ever known." Tanith says "Have you no place in Haven you call your very own? That you have made yours?" She asks this, only having a fundamental understanding of how those of lesser castes are treated... having only known a select few Varati who bothered to shared their lives when she was at the Citadel. "Besides Kosha?" "Kosha... my lyre... the clothing I wear... these things are mine, and nothing else." It might be wistfulness, that momentary glimmer in her eyes; then again, it might not. It could be this new straightforwardness Faanshi seems to have learned from somewhere that makes her say, her tone stark and low, "It has been safer, for me to keep from seeking more." Tanith nods at the wisdom in these words. "Yes, naturally it would be." Whether it is from a subtle change in the girl's aura, or merely her own insticts, Tanith asks a probing question: "What about now?" What _about_ now? Faanshi's gaze doesn't move away, and for a moment, for just a moment, there is something else within her summer-hued gaze besides her sobriety. A vision, perhaps a memory: a great black Hawk, soaring down to land by a small dove of multi-hued plumage, whose head is bowed in grief. The Hawk cranes His own head downward for a fleeting moment, touching His beak to the smaller bird before He transforms into swirling flame that ascends to the heavens... leaving the dove to shake herself and look bemusedly at her own wings, now subtly gleaming, tempered by the fire-- --And then her eyes are only eyes again, and Faanshi is saying gravely, "The Maharani has bidden me serve Clan Khalida as I served her... but I do not yet know if Clan Khalida truly wishes me to be their Voice to the Sylvans. There is a Pasha now, but he has not called me into his presence. Salmalin is... gone." There -- for just a fraction of an instant, a flash of something else. But it, too, passes quickly. "The Maharani has also said that I may at last seek the Ushasti... but I do not know if they will want me, since I have told the only Ushasti I know that I will not stop healing in Bordertown." It is perhaps the most she has said at once since she began this conversation... and Faanshi stops, as if momentarily surprised at herself for so many consecutive words. But then she concludes, "Now... my life has changed again. I do not yet know what to make of it all." With solemn expression, Tanith bows her head in thought. As she does so, she hums a rather slow tune to match the mood. "It is my belief, child," she begins after many moments of thought, "that the Graiae have set you on an arduous path with many turning points. They bend the paths of fate you see and here you are at another crossroad on your life's journey. Shall you be bold like the bramble rose, pushing your way into the light by way of thorns? Should you wither like the pansy beneath the evergreen bows, struggling to breath in a toxic environment?" A wry smile forms on the lips of the elder. "No neither. I can see this in you. You shall make your own way. Hm?" Fractionally, one corner of Faanshi's mouth quirks upward behind her veil. "It seems that I must," she admits, and then the maiden cants her head just a trifle, considering. There is a shadow of the old timid healer about her, as she goes on, "Grandmother Tanith... am I... still welcome, amongst your folk?" Tanith says "As much as you were before," she smiles. "That is not to say that some do not view you with distrust, but this is the way amongst us. Why do you ask so?" "Call it a need to... find my own way." There is something, Faanshi muses to herself, almost soothing in talking with the old Sylvan woman. Something that reminds her of days long past when she could talk in almost the same fashion with the beloved great-aunt who raised her. And for all that there remains about the maiden a sense of containment, still, something eases in her expression and lets through a glimmer of the emotions behind her veil. A hint of loneliness... a hint of need. "To find out where I may walk and be welcome." Tanith considers this. "Both Broadshoulders and myself have given you our protection, once, I believe. This has not changed from what I am aware of. This is enough for much of the tribe." She pauses, dark green eyes passing over Faanshi's much taller form with darting agility. "It is hard what the graisha think. You would know soon enough." "I have healed many graisha... but so far it has not won me any knowledge of what they think." Something else, now. No vision arises to give eldritch insight, but perhaps none is needed, given how the halfbreed's eyes darken and her gaze shifts uncomfortably away as she speaks. "And I wasn't certain whether the word would have come to you from the Ettowealona... BroadShoulders saw me there, but that was before..." And now she pauses, torn, half the new Faanshi who seems to have learned a measure of confidence... and half a Faanshi with a shadow of profound pain behind her eyes. Knowing or unknowing, the elder folds her hands in front of her and asks, "Before what?" "Before the Ettowealona discovered what Mehul had been doing, Grandmother." Faanshi whispers these words without hesitation. They have lost something of their horror, through the passage of time, but not enough that they come out of her as anything other than spare, bleak utterances of a heart that has been scoured and flayed before finally bathed and tempered in fire. "Did I tell you of Mehul? I was ill when BroadShoulders found me... I forgot who I was, and I didn't know him then. And there are still spots in my memory, sometimes." Tanith's eyes cloud slightly, but she merely nods. A piece has slid into place in her mind, but nothing more. "Go on..." "He was murdering graisha. Soft-Feather and the Imphadi Geridan Rashid said so, and they came and fought with him. They turned him into a ferret... but turned him back into a man before they put him to death, and I asked him if he had done what they said, and he said he did." Faanshi's telling is as bleak and sparse as her prior words, though now her eyes go nearly black, focused on something other than the greenery around her and the aged shaman who studies her. "I told him that he had broken the holy surahs, and so he did not struggle when Soft-Feather beheaded him." A heartbeat. Two. And then Faanshi murmurs, "I loved him, Grandmother, and I did not know that he carried death in his hands. I still do not know why he killed the graisha... and I did not know whether the graisha among you would let me anywhere near them again, because of him." A soft silence fills the room. Insects call to one another, but Tanith remains still, as though thinking. But as always, it is hard to tell what goes through the Elder's mind. "Can you hear that, Faanshi? Is is the constancy of time." She moves towards the halfbreed until she stands quite close, head angled so she looks up at the veiled face. "And they say that time is the best healer of all." The maiden's attention comes back, young green eyes to old, and although she does not smile -- not surprisingly, after what she has just confided -- still Faanshi somehow manages to seem almost amused. "I have been told that," says she. "I hope that it is true, and that it is better at healing than I, for I have nothing else to do the job for me." Eyes crinkle at the corners. "Let me ask you this: Did you help him kill the graisha?" Ah, so it _is_ still possible to shock Faanshi. Her eyes widen, a gasp escapes her, and her head jerks for a second or two as though she's been slapped. "No...!" she blurts, slightly strangled-sounding, as though her throat has constricted and she can barely bring herself to speak. One slim sungolden hand comes up, to press a dainty knuckle against her brow as if to ward off a headache. With effort, she makes herself form more of a reply: "No... I... have been shadowed by death all my life, it seems... but... I killed no one...!" Tanith nods, a small smile on her lips. Although satisfied at the answer, she is troubled by the response. "Faanshi-child. It is known you are a healer amongst us. I am sure even in the forest lands the Ettowealona call home this is true as well." A firm, but gentle touch is placed on the woman's forearm. "Listen. Listen to your heart. Listen to the call of the insects, the birds. Feel that which is Sylvan flow in your veins and *know*. You have the answer within you." She waits, eyes piercing as she gazes up to the face of the halfbreed. "You know, don't you... that you did not do this _thing_. And as you know, so shall the graisha. They are peculiar in their way of sensing such things." "I have not been back to the Ettowealona since it happened," Faanshi murmurs. "I had to go to the Apisachi for a time..." But she trails off, listening to the gentle, firm admonitions given her, _needing_ the comfort of the wisdom of Tanith's many years. It and the touch upon her arm seem to brace her. She straightens, pulls in a breath, and lets it out again as she then says, "After months in the woods... I know a little more of what is Sylvan inside me. And that will be part of making my own way, too. Will you tell your graisha... and the others... that I will heal them freely, still, whenever they need me?" Tanith nods, but not loosening her grip. "Tell me you know first." _Do not succumb to the arrogance of blaming yourself for their loss._ Words uttered in a rich, resonant voice toll like a bell across Faanshi's memory, bringing with them the recollection of eyes of a searing, searchlight blue. Black wings casting a shadow down upon her. A dusky hand touching her shoulder... and not for the first time, either. "I know," says the maiden, not loudly, but with a calm assurance that neither offsets nor is obliterated by the pain she has released into her words. And with a hint, just a hint, of something like flame in the depths of her eyes... though that could be vision's own memory, or even a fragment of reflected sunlight. Tanith says "Good. Now stop that foolishness and lets go get something to eat. You look like skin and bones." She shakes her head in disgust. "And I'm starving." "I would gladly do so. Kosha... come, Kosha. Food?" Faanshi turns to gesture to the dog, who has by now thoroughly demolished the bone that had been gifted him -- and yet, the eager speed with which the hound raises his head demonstrates very clearly that despite his eyes, he still has a puppy's ready fondness for the word 'food'. He surges to his feet, trotting happily to the pair of women, tail a'wag and tongue lolling in anticipation. And Faanshi gestures again, this time outward, to let her aged companion set the pace and course on which they might walk. As she does, another expression flickers behind her veil... a small one, a solemn one, but it is nevertheless a smile. [End log.]