"Strange Requests" Log Date: 2/11/01 Log Cast: Zafir, Faanshi, Selma Log Intro: By and large a great number of the Atarvani within Atesh-Gah and Haven pretend that the halfbreed shudra whose power has begun to rival that of their own healers doesn't exist -- except in those few rare instances when they must actually call upon her to accomplish something they cannot do alone. And by and large, Faanshi is more or less content with this arrangement. In her experience the Atarvani are to be avoided, for rare indeed is the Atarvani who does not look upon her with contempt. But there are exceptions. She still remembers the Nabi Jhonan who freely healed her when the Imphada Kiera delivered her from Clan Sarazen. And now within Atesh-Gah there is a most unusual priest who wishes Faanshi's help, both for himself -- and his sister.... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Noon Date on Aether: Thursday, November 4, 3907. Year on Earth: 1507 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waxing Crescent Season: Fall Weather: Foggy Temperature: Cool *==========================================================================* Courtyard - Atesh-Gah - Haven(#430RJM$) If indeed the Hebrew folk of lost Earth are correct in their legends, then this must be the legendary garden from which mankind was expelled. The flat expanse of the great courtyard of Atesh-Gah is covered in the most luxurious grass of bright emerald green, broken only by a cobblestone path for riding and walking to prevent wear upon the lawn. Rich copses of carefully tended wood grow by the walls, lovingly groomed flower gardens acting as a barrier of colour before the rising trees. Perhaps even more relaxing than the sight of the yard are the sensations of it. The lovely scents of flower and tree; honey-suckle, apple blossom, peach, and jasmine; combine with the soft cushion of green grass to provide a sense of peace and harmony that defies the looming sand-hued walls of unbreakable stone. Not even the shadowed maw of the main gate, nor the blocky, unimpressive presence of the impenetrable main keep can overshadow the beauty of this place. Indeed, the stark contrast serves only to enhance it. (OOC note: +view here/security; +view here/ring) Contents: Zafir Obvious exits: Atesh-Serai Gladiator Barracks Temple Fountain Out Entrance Foyer Stables Midday has gotten the courtyard into it's usual hustle and bustle. However, there are quiet apologies sa the the fog shrouds the area. The soft tapping from the bench in the center of thecourtyard indicates there is one person there who is just waiting and thinking. Neither fog nor rain nor sleet nor snow can keep Kosha from his appointed rounds -- and in this particular case, Kosha's appointed rounds involve his sovreign canine duty to sniff out every corner of the courtyard as he ranges out ahead of his young mistress. Faanshi and her loyal hound are coming out of the stables, and fog or no fog, it's difficult to miss the resonant full-chested bark of the hound. A bit more difficult perhaps is the soft anxious call of the maiden: "Kosha, do not get too far ahead--Kosha!" There is a rustle of robes, and the man on the bench speaks. "I'm not a snack thanks." His voice is sharp. Zafir The man before you looks back with a critical eye. His dark tan skin appears to be leathery yet is soft to the touch, almost like the local trees. His hands are caloused as if he refuses to use Shudra. He has weird eyes to most. One appears to be deep brown and one appears to be deep green. Their shade varies based on his mood. His oval face sits at everyone else's normal shoulder height. No chiseled features. They are smooth, yet rough. His black hair has a distinctness to it. Grey streaks by the temples run back to above his ears. He tends to wear the hair in a pony tail that hangs to just below his shoulderblades.As your eyes drift down his form, you note he wears a simple wool tunic with a drawstring to midchest. Over this is a unfastened leather haik. He wears cotton breeches with an unadorned leather belt. On his feet he wears Leather shoes with wool calf sleeves. The entire outfit is designed with shades of red, but he wears no jewelry of note. Faanshi closes her eyes over her veil for a moment, mentally breathing a prayer for strength, then hastens forward through the tendrils of fog to intercept her over-curious hound. Disappointed that the stranger he's discovered doesn't appear to have any food, Kosha whurfs once and then turns amiably enough back to Faanshi as the maiden comes up to catch him by his massive head. "Please forgive my hound, Imphadi," the girl murmurs humbly towards Zafir as soon as she makes out his figure before her. "He does not mean to disturb." Zafir bobs his head slightly. "Forgiven, and yet somehow, the way my year has been going, it is kind of fitting that I become a dog snack." Faanshi pauses, not at all certain exactly how to respond to that; rare indeed are the kshatri or Atarvani or even the vaisya who seem to expect her to make any answers to such commentary of theirs. "I... he... he would not eat you, Imphadi," she finally settles for saying, her voice kept respectful, her gaze kept lowered to the hound. "He does not bite unless he thinks I am in danger..." Zafir sighs some. "That is fine, though I wonder if you might do me a favor?" Answering _that_ is rather easier, though Faanshi is no more accustomed to being asked for favors than she is to her betters within Atesh-Gah making apparently personal remarks before her. Thinking to slip away and leave the strange small man to his business, the shudra instead keeps her place and shyly replies, "How may I serve?" Zafir gives a small smile. "You are a healer, or am I hearing a different voice then is speaking to me?" Quietly, the maiden draws in a breath -- and as long as she must stand before this man, she gently nudges at Kosha's back to convince him to sit and hold his place for the time being as well. The hound does so, alertly watching the two people before him, and leaving Faanshi free to attend to whatever the Imphadi might wish to ask of her. Very quietly, she says, "I have that gift, Imphadi, yes." Zafir nods ever so slowly. "Then I ask three things. Forgive me for pushing them so far, as is not my right, but just a request." He shifts some, eyes more or less on the wall of fog behind you. "First, could you possibly check on my eyes? Strangest thing, sight has been flickering. Sometimes I see, most times I don't. Second, if you have time, what might a teaching position mean to you? And third, could you just call me Zafir? I hate Imphadi." He chuckles at that last part. To all of this, the maiden goes very still, deeply bemused. This man is blind? And he wishes her to teach -- who? And he wishes her to address him by his _name_? "You..." She croaks this first syllable, and has to clear her throat before she can continue, "You know that I-I am shudra, and halfbreed, Im--?" And she catches herself just in time, holding back most of the title, though she cannot bring herself to the intimacy of the use of his actual name. "I-I mean, if you recognize my voice -- do you know--?" Zafir tilts his head. "And this gives us the right to push you down, to denegrate you no matter how good your skills may be?" He sighs, "I realize what has been said of you, though to be honest I never really had a chance to talk to you. I also know you are said to be a good healer and deserve more then to be treated like a real person." He smiles some. "If you don't feel, comfortable with the name, I'll settle for sir. But not Imphadi. Though you haven't commented on the other two." "Then... if you will permit me... sir," Faanshi says, her voice ever shy and now a touch closer as she summons up enough courage to step within arm's reach of the man before her, "I will see if I sense a-anything amiss..." A heartbeat after that, feather-light fingers make contact with Zafir's brow. Aether stirs, a ripple spreading upward and outward from somewhere deep within the maiden and extending forth to fall like a shaft of sunlight onto the man. And then -- it is gone again, along with the gentle fingers. Zafir blinks, though still does not see. "Right." Drawing in a soft breath, the girl says in a tone whose uncertainty has nothing to do with what she sensed and everything to do with how she fears the small Varati man upon the bench may react. "I... sense nothing amiss with your eyes," she confesses. "They are hale... hale as mine. But I have never healed eyes before, sir..." Zafir nods some. "It is as the healers at the temple have said. Nothing wrong. And yet I can't see." He blinks some, then grins. "You proved you know your skills very well. I have a sister who wishes to learn the art..." Answer to question two. "I-I see--" Sight or no sight, it may well be easily told by hearing alone that the shudra girl is growing flustered. Stepping back towards the comforting presence of her curious dog, Faanshi has to take a moment to regain her composure. And even though she manages to speak without stammering when she speaks again, it is still in a profoundly embarrassed little voice. "I am not exactly skilled at teaching -- surely the Atarvani or the Ushasti would be better options than I--" Zafir nods his head and shifts deeper onto his bench to try to make you feel more comfortable. "True be told, I would not trust my sister with them. She is a bit... flighty. And the way my life is going, we as a family may be fellow shudra very shortly. So why not work with those around me." Faanshi's brow crinkles up in active shock at the notion that somehow she might be more trustworthy with a flighty young woman than Khalid Atar's own priests, or the priestesses of His Holy Mother. "I," she rasps, swallowing hard, "am... unversed in... advising those of the temperament you describe, sir..." There is a kind of fledgling diplomacy in her voice now, though whether it is born of a shudra's hard-learned knack for respect to her betters or the simple, honest truth is perhaps a matter for debate. "Moreover, I-I _am_ shudra..." And therefore not exactly in a position to provide a steady guiding hand to a flighty young woman, but this remains unvoiced. "A-and I am bidden to aid the Voice to the Sylvans... I-I do not know if I would have time to properly teach your sister..." Zafir nods. "Do you have a specific healer who you would recommend to teach her then?" "The... Atarvani do not... favor me with their names a-and skills," is the maiden's meek reply to that. No bitterness there, no resentment, just a shy statement of fact. And though to a man who cannot see it is rather irrelevant, the shudra keeps her gaze demurely lowered. "My acarya is Sylvan, sir... she keeps an herb-shop... not too far from Atesh-Gah. Her name is FallingStar." Zafir bobs his head some. "Do you think she's be willing to teach...?" Faanshi draws in a few soft breaths, her surge of panic subsided just a little as it seems that this unusual little man may not pursue his alarming ideas of putting her to teaching his kinswoman after all. Unhampered by lack of sight, Kosha watches her with all the affection his canine heart can produce, and it seems to the hound as though she requires a bit of comfort; accordingly, he wags his tail hopefully at her. Faanshi takes a bit of strength from that, kneeling down to scritch the big dog's head while she speaks. "My acarya has taken an Atlantean student since she taught me," she murmurs. "She may be willing to take another, sir..." Selma walks from the steps and looks around. Seeing her brother and then the other women she waits to see if there is something she can do Zafir nods. "I shall have to see if I can speak to her about it..." He tilts his head. "Who do I owe for your services this afternoon?" That seems to startle the shudra. "It is my honor and duty to heal," Faanshi blurts. "Nothing is owed--!" For once, she sounds almost firm of voice as she utters this, though she does not go so far as to lift her head when she speaks. Zafir nods his head. "Alright. No need to startle the doves in the rafters." Selma looks at Zafir "Imphadi it is a healers honor to offer and help possible. Who--? Faanshi starts again, green gaze flashing for a moment up to look for the source of the new voice emerging out of the fog that still blankets the courtyard, holding out stubbornly against the November noontime sun. Then she hastily bows her head again, unwilling to look overbold before this stranger even as it occurs to her to wonder whether this might be the very sister of which the Imphadi has spoken. "Do you require my services in any other fashion, sir?" she asks, her voice remaining small. Zafir moves his head, eyes looking over Selma's head. "You quiet your mouth, woman. I'm in enough trouble because of you." He turns back to Faanshi. "No, I think I have exhausted my questions at this time." Selma nods "Yes Imphadi Well, that answers that question. Faanshi pulls in another nervous breath behind her veil, then pulls herself awkwardly to her feet. Sketching a deep bow to the seated man and then to the young woman, she murmurs, "I-I must continue about my duties... if you will excuse me, sir... namaste', Imphada...! Kosha, come..." The dog's on his feet in an instant, tail a-wag, and with that the young halfbreed seizes the opportunity to retreat into the fog. [End log.]