"An Honor to Heal the Hunter" Log Date: 9/10, 9/19/00 Log Cast: Benja, Faanshi Log Intro: The shark hunter known only as Benja has been spending the brutal winter in Haven doing as he always has done -- tracking the movements of his beloved Kaiulani to insure that no danger befalls her, and if it does, he is there to defend her from it. But Benja has never had to deal with danger to Kaiulani when he's been wounded by it. Cornered in the old city garden by a pack of starved dogs turned feral by the vicious weather and their lack of food, the maiden Benja secretly adores and her two guardsmen never saw Benja's joining in on the fight with the wild dogs... and neither did they see the hurts he took from them. Now the hunter of sharks has seen Kaiulani to safety... but not without cost to himself. Badly hurt, he's collapsed not far from the ocean that serves as his refuge. Fortunately for the Atlantean, however, he is not the only one out near the docks this morning. And even if she's exhausted from many recent worries and cares of her own, even if her shy and gentle nature is deeply alarmed by the kind of man she's found crumpled in the snow, the halfbreed shudra Faanshi is arguably the very best healer to be brought by lucky chance to the fallen hunter. For if there's anything Faanshi can understand about a half-barbaric Atlantean, it is what it means to be living on the outer reaches of those who are supposed to be one's own people.... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Morning Date on Aether: Sunday, January 27, 3907. Year on Earth: 1507 A.D. Phase of the Moon: First Quarter Season: Winter Weather: Sleet Temperature: Very Cold *==========================================================================* West Seaside - Haven Here at the edge of town, wilderness has begun to reclaim what it once ruled. The docks jutting out into the water are neglected and rotting away, and those parts that still stand are festooned with mussels and littered with birds' nests. A beach extends to the west, though the term is generous, for it is little more than a stretch of gravel, mud, driftwood, and the remains of boats that will never sail again. One large hull lies on its side like the skeleton of some ancient beast, scoured down by wind and waves until the wood was left as white as bone. Gulls swoop and call noisily over the crash of the waves, as if vying to be heard. A line of dark rocks reaches out into the water, covered with mussels and barnacles, and the occasional clinging purple starfish. Contents: Benja Obvious exits: Beach Streets The sleet and cold do not usually have any harsh effects on the dwellers from the depths of the ocean, but today, perhaps that is not the case. In the shadows of a darkened alley, Benja lays, curled up around his still bleeding wrist protectively. The snow and sleet pelt down on him, partially obscuring his form from view. With the coming of the morning, the docks of Haven do normally grow louder -- but not this stretch of abandoned structures, especially in the midst of the brutal weather. But someone else is out and about this morning, lured here by the disturbing trickles of red fallen upon the snow and slush built up on the otherwise gravelly beach. The first sign that the wounded hunter's sanctuary is about to be disturbed is a whine somewhere out there in the sleet... a dog? Oh no! Not another dog! In the back of his semi-delirious mind, the hunter's consciousness stirs. Kaiulani! He does not move though. He can't move. He's so ...tired... Indeed, it's a dog, though seemingly larger and healthier than the mutts that had attacked Her... no, it was her guards, wasn't it, that the dogs had attacked? The form of the canine materializes out of the sleet, coming fearlessly right up to the crumpled form in the alley. Kosha's tail and ears are both down, but there's concern in the whine that sounds in his furry throat. Blood. There's blood here before him, and someone lying here in the snow. The hound barks -- in warning? In summons? And then a warm tongue is licking Benja's face. Benja starts at the warm feel of a tongue on his face, but he can do little to bring himself out of the stupor enough to push it away. A growling sort of noise tries to bubble from his throat, but it comes out more as a grunt of pain. Then, a voice: "Kosha...! Kosha, what have you found -- Ushas...!" And a second form comes into the alley, taking shape against the dull gray curtain of precipitation falling out of the sky. A slender shape clad in bright colors, which seems to divert the attention of the hound. Kosha swivels his head back and whines again at Faanshi, as the shudra maiden kneels as swiftly as she can before the fallen hunter. Green eyes lift up a shy, anxious gaze above her blue veil, and from behind the dark azure silk a voice entreats, "Imphadi, can you hear me...? Permit me to assist you, I beg--!" Benja glares warily at the dog, though his eyes reflect an ineffectiveness that can obviously be contributed to his state of near unconsciousness. Slowly his cold, pale eyes lift to meet those above the veil. Blinking slowly at her, he mutters quietly, "...Dogs..." Pale green eyes meet Faanshi's leaf-green ones, and hers widen in a rush of nervousness. What kind of a man is this? Dulled as those predator's eyes might be, innocent a maiden though Faanshi is, still something about his aspect is enough to send a chill through her that has nothing to do with the wintry temperature. So fierce he looks, with that scar across his cheek. She has not seen an Atlantean like him before -- though something in the back of her mind reminds her of a dark-skinned prince she'd been bidden to heal, once. And a tremor of fear shivers across her mind at that memory; will this Son of the Water drag her into his mind, as that other had done? But she must risk it. The man is bleeding into the snow, and it doesn't require her eyes to give her enough evidence to set her magic roiling in her system, demanding release. He is bleeding, and badly, and she is a healer. "There is only my dog Kosha, Imphadi," she breathes, forgetting to stammer for once in the urgency of the situation at hand. "I am a healer. Let me help you!" Benja drags his eyes from the lass to the dog and back. "Healer," his deep throat rumbles out quietly. Shifting his weight a bit, he tries to bring the malled wrist up within her line of vision. Or perhaps he is lifting it so that he might lick the wound, as it seems he might have already been trying to do. His teeth have grown sharp within his mouth, but they do not touch the flesh as his tongue sweeps over it to catch the heavily flowing blood. Sharp... teeth? Oh Ushas... Faanshi goes pale behind her veil, beginning to shake at the inhuman teeth that reveal themselves to her sight. Like those of the other Atlantean she had healed. Behind her, Kosha whines, sniffing more thoroughly at Benja now and beginning to become unsettled by the scent of the hunter's blood... and the sense of something Other about the hunter's scent in general. "B-be at peace, Kosha," the girl blurts, the stammer that so often haunts her voice manifesting again, urgency or no. Trying to fight off memories of the nightmares she'd had for a week after she'd healed Prince Kuronbo, Faanshi reaches for the mangled wrist, but her hands are shaking now and only close gently about Benja's muscled forearm, not yet pulling it away from his mouth. Her magic leaps within her at the contact of skin to skin, but with an effort she holds it back. She will get his leave, she tells herself as firmly as she can manage, or she will confirm that he is too dazed to give it. "Y-yes, Imphadi, a healer! I am a healer! W-will you let me help you?" Her fear leaks into her soft voice; she can't quite keep it out. But she is still there, nevertheless. Benja stiffens as he is touched. It is still an unfamiliar sensation for someone to wish to touch him. His eyes drop to the hand, and he stops licking. That Sylvan he met said she was a healer. Starfang, though he does not know her name. It takes a few bleary-eyed minutes for the thoughts to compute and the meaning of the word 'healer' to make it through his sluggish brain. When at last it does, his eyes widen a little and he offers his hand out to her confidently. "No hurt," he says. And that is either a request that she not hurt him, or an assurance that he will not hurt her, but his inflections give no evidence either way. The maiden goes still for a moment, as startled by the wounded man's rough speech as he is by the light touch of her fingers about his mutilated wrist. 'No hurt'? What does that mean? But the trusting way he holds out his arm to her needs no explanation, even to the guileless shudra. Marginally reassured, Faanshi murmurs, "It will not hurt, Imphadi...!" And with that, she lets her magic loose, tapping into the wellspring with her and focusing it in an invisible sphere about the flesh that canine teeth have ripped. Once the aether flows deep and sure into the wounded man, the maiden decides instinctively that he may not have enough strength to hold up his own arm -- so much blood has he lost! And thus Faanshi cradles the big finned hand in her own smaller ones, one over, one under, to keep it from landing limply in the snow. Coppery brow drawing downward at the odd sensation, Benja stares blinkingly at his arm as he feels the magic do its work. He must turn his head to do this, and so, the young healer is offered a view of what she can probably already sense, and that is the similar wounds that have shredded through his lower gills and his neck and shoulder. They are not so deep as to cause the loss of as much blood as his wrist did, but they do still ooze with dark red that drips down his chest. Sharp teeth can again be seen as he grimaces in pain from the movement of his head. "/I/ no hurt," he corrects in a voice gritted with pain. Now, does that mean that he won't hurt her, or that he's not hurt? He /is/ a macho man, after all. The maiden is true to her word; the mending of the rent flesh about Benja's sturdy wrist occurs without pain, though there is a strange ripple of feeling as tissue and skin reknit beneath her fingers. And oh, aye, she's sensed the damage to his shoulder and neck and gills already, smaller flares in her consciousness accenting the blaze of pain at the wrist. For now, though, she does one thing at a time. The girl's strength has been sorely taxed as of late, and Faanshi is not sure she can afford to expend herself on healing everything wrong at once... even if her magic tries to lash out of her control up to those other wounds. With a determination she does not allow herself to show in any other fashion, she keeps it focused upon the hunter's arm. As if she has laid it gently against sand warmed by the summer sun, the _cessation_ of pain begins to soak from his wrist to his elbow and out to his fingertips. And once again, behind her, Kosha whines. Perhaps he doesn't like those shark teeth, either? Not letting herself look at them, Faanshi whispers, "You... um... w-will not hurt me, Imphadi?" She means it as a simple request for confirmation... and perhaps as assurance for her nervous dog. But the question does not come out of her as stoically as she'd intended, unsettled as the maiden is by the appearance of the man she's trying to heal. Benja's webbed fingers wiggle as the pain begins to ebb. He seems to relax just a bit at that. He has not been able to move them for a while. Again his brows drop forward, this time in weary confusion. "Why hurt you?" he asks confoundedly. "You heal Benja... me," he corrects himself. He /is/ beginning to understand grammar a little better lately. "No hurt you." Faanshi's eyes drop closed for a moment, as she fights off a gritty feeling somewhere behind them. Later, she will permit herself to be weary. Now, she must heal this man. The shudra maiden leans her head forward for a moment as she takes the time to look _within_; does the wrist feel... right, now, to her magic? Flesh has been rejoined. Skin has connected again, smooth and dark, without so much as a scar in memory of the damage that had been there. There is still the blood... but for that, for the time being, Faanshi can do nothing. Instead she then lays her charge's mended arm gently down again, lifting a hand up now for his neck and shoulder. "A-all right, Imphadi," she whispers, shy green eyes peeking up again, timid, furtive over her veil. She has to look up, after all, to see where to put her fingers. Her touch alights at the side of his neck and along the broad ripped shoulder; once again, the aether flows. Benja's hand lifts again, though not high, and his fingers continue to wiggle for a moment longer. As she leans forward to heal, he looks over her face, his eyes catching on the veil. Hesitantly, while she concentrates, he reaches up to tug the thin material away so he may look upon her fully. After a good two years of learning to control her fractious power under FallingStar's tutelage, it requires a great deal to break Faanshi's concentration when she is in the midst of a healing. But the tugging down of her veil, even if hesitantly done, is enough. Halfway through closing the tear that slashes across the Atlantean's gills, the maiden freezes in shock, a strangled little squeak escaping her. Her magic sputters to a halt as the delicate chain that usually holds her veil in place slips down without much resistance over the mutilated ears hidden beneath her sari. And though her ears are still safely hidden, her face is brought into full view. High delicate cheekbones that go with the slant of her leaf-green eyes. A nose a shade too long for classical beauty, giving it what would be a lupine cast if the bones beneath her skin were not so delicate. A pointed chin, a mouth too small in comparison with those enormous, frightened eyes. Golden brown skin, though it is currently drawn tight with weariness and flushed with cold... and now with a deep blush of embarrassment as well. Benja looks upon her visage with pale green eyes, regarding her odd combination of features with nothing more than a small, weary smile. As the magic stops, he figures the healing is done and starts to raise his shoulder to roll it and test the muscles. He does not seem to realize that he's committed some indescretion against her. He just wanted to see what was behind the veil. Why did he -- what? Oh, oh, Ushas...! Visibly flustered, and even more so now that her veil is down and hanging about her neck by its chain, she falters for a second or two between restoring the veil to its proper place and finishing her duty. That dainty little mouth of hers works without sound for a try or two before she finally manages to squeak, "L-lie still, Imphadi... I-I did not finish...." Now, though, her fingers are trembling more visibly as she reasserts their touch. There is still damage there to be mended, though it is reduced now. Her voice trembles as well, even as she babbles out, "Y-y-you should rest somewhere s-safe... a-and warm... you have lost much blood, and you w-will need to get your strength back... eat good meals tomorrow i-if you can...!" Benja stops the roll of his shoulder as the pain shoots through it, and looks questioningly at the healer. Why does it still hurt? He relaxes then, as she says she's not done, and only distractedly wonders why she stopped if she was not finished. His eyes close as he nods to her instruction. He will probably make his way back to the sea though, rather than to a warm place. Warmth does not suit him very well. He is more comfortable in the cool water. Still blushing furiously, but not wishing to take the time to restore her veil while there is still healing that must be done, Faanshi bites her lip and closes her eyes and returns her attention to the application of her magic. It takes her a few more minutes, for she has to focus her attention all over again, but once she regains some semblance of composure the magic flows as readily as it had done before. The rest of the hurt to Benja's flesh obediently repairs itself beneath her palms, and at last the girl lifts her hands away, shaken in more ways than one. Benja slowly opens his eyes and looks back at her as he breathes a deep sigh of relief. He pauses for a moment and furrows his brow. "Why cover pretty face?" he asks confusedly. His eyes close just after, showing that he is not expecting an answer. Then, slowly, he begins to try pushing himself upward. "Thank you, healer." He breathes out raggedly with his effort. "Feel better." Ducking her gaze swiftly downward -- both to inspect her veil, which she realizes in chagrin has taken on a smear of scarlet where the Atlantean's bloodied hand had touched the silk, and to avoid the confused pale gaze upon her -- Faanshi blurts out tinily, "I-I was raised by the Varati... Varati women c-cover their faces, Imphadi... you are welcome. It is my duty... m-my honor to heal..." A nervous creature indeed, isn't she? As the dog lopes forward to nuzzle hopefully at her, Faanshi tries to seek further composure in the familiar, formal mannerisms with which she was brought up, clasping her unsteady hands palm to palm at her breast and bowing slightly over them to the hunter as she speaks. Benja watches this action and blinks a little before trying to copy it vaguely. "No seem good cover face," he tells her straightforwardly. "Pretty. Should let people see." Of course, to Benja, a blow fish could be pretty, but it doesn't lessen the statement. As if that is really of no matter to him he holds out his hand again to her, after the bow, "I'm Benja," he murmurs, tired. "I... I-I am not..." It's not the first time that Faanshi has been called pretty, but it happens so seldom that the halfbreed girl still blushes deeply in reaction. Moreoever, it's odd in and of itself to hear such a thing delivered in the Atlantean's gruff speech. The shark teeth had frightened her, reminding her unnervingly of the black-skinned Kuronbo -- but that passing similarity is losing ground to the differences between that Son of Water and this one. This one has not pulled her into his mind to assault her with dreams. And there's something trusting about him beneath his wild appearance, to which Faanshi's own trusting soul instinctively reacts. Having turned to scratch Kosha's head and try to assure him all is well, she catches the proffered hand only peripherally... but it coaxes her gaze up again. Unsure what the fierce-seeming Atlantean intends, she shyly stretches forth her own hand and says, "My name is Faanshi..." Benja's strong, yet weakened fingers wrap around her own smaller digits and give them a gentle shake. "Thank you," he says again, in his smooth, rich voice, heavy with weariness. "I not forget," he promises. The halfbreed girl seems unable to keep her gaze on the enervated hunter's face for more than a few seconds at a time -- because of his teeth? Or simply because of Varati-taught shyness, dictating that she should not look a man, any man, in the eye? Such conclusions might be beyond an unlettered shark hunter, but her bashfulness is more than obvious. It occurs to her that the voice of this Imphadi Benja is a beautiful thing, and that renews the flush in her cheeks even as a tiny, timid smile curls up each corner of her mouth. The hand through which magic has just flowed like ocean currents tentatively squeezes the lean fingers that hold it. "It is my duty... and my honor to heal," she repeats. This time, nervousness ebbing, she can say this with more assurance in her voice. "You are welcome, Imphadi Benja...!" Benja tilts his head a bit, looking a touch confused. An honor to heal /him/? He doubts it, but then, she probably does not know that he is crippled. He will not tell her though. He likes that little blush too much to spoil it. He may be unlearned, but slowly, through various sources, he is beginning to learn about women, which is itself a vast mystery to the shark hunter. "I will not hurt you," he assures, since she cannot seem to look at him. He takes great pains to say it correctly, his own eyes shooting to the side in a mild expression of hurt, that she would not be able to bring herself to look upon him. Perhaps he is too unseemly to look on. Kosha noses at the maiden again, tail wagging hopefully. Now that his beloved human has put her hands on the one who had lain unmoving, and who is now moving again, this means to the dog that indeed all seems to be well. It is therefore, as far as he is concerned, time for skitching. Or food. Or both! As for Faanshi, she is growing conscious of weariness of her own, a bit of lightheadedness welling up in the wake of the power she's spent. She's cold, too, more vulnerable to the temperature than the Atlantean is, and at least some of the unsteadiness in her hands comes from the chill in the air. But she forgets about that, momentarily, at the almost overly carefully uttered words. Something in them draws her attention back up in time to see the flicker of dismay across the man's green eyes -- and _that's_ enough to keep her attention up. Her brow crinkles. And she points out, softly and patiently, "You said that, Imphadi...!" She pauses, then adds in utmost earnestness, "I believe you." She does, she realizes in a measure of self-directed surprise. It is Ben's turn to not meet her eye this time. He nods with a tight sort of smile and shifts the weight between his feet nervously. "You are tired." Again that effort in speaking can be noticed, "I walk.. I can walk you ... home," he offers with a gesture of his newly healed hand toward the street outside the alley. As Benja has risen, so too does Faanshi, registering as she does the sheer size of the man. He is not as massive as the Varati warriors with whom she is familiar -- nor is he even much taller than a certain long-missing Mongrel bard whose face haunts her dreams and over whose welfare she spends frequent recurring sleepless nights. But the Imphadi Benja is more solidly made than Lyre Talespinner, enough to be daunting to a slender creature such as she. And the contrast between that and _his_ nervous manner, the awkward way with which he strives to speak in fuller sentences, keeps her attention. This girl has healed a wounded wolf graisha who changed form in her very lap, and something about the shark hunter now begins to cajole her into treating him much the same way. Perhaps he is graisha, she thinks to herself, with those sharp teeth and the -- wings? fins? -- that she can glimpse beneath his arms, to either side of the open-sided tunic he wears. "I live in Atesh-Gah," she says, voice still soft and shy, but not so frightened, not now. "It is all the way across the city, Imphadi... do you think that you can walk that far...?" Is she implying that Benja cannot do something as simple as walk? The hunter chances a glance at her face and snorts softly. "I can." He nods confidently. With another gesture toward the street he waits for her and her dog to lead the way. If he had a cloak, he'd offer it for her, as he can see she is cold, but as it is, all he could offer is a winged arm, and if she was unwilling to look at him, he doubts that she'd accept such an offer. "Then I thank you for your escort, Imphadi... I am... a little tired now." More tired than she should be, and Faanshi frowns at herself momentarily even as she steps out of the alley. Wind whistling down the street seems to cut right through her sari, and she has to pause to brace herself against it. Then her gaze falls upon the proffered arm, and she stares at it blankly for a few seconds. She has seen men offer their arms to women before, and seen women put their hands upon them or even loop their own arms about them. But to have such a gesture made to _her_...? Then she rubs a hand across her eyes, trying to rouse herself. And she steps forward, moving her one hand to lift her veil on its chain back up to its proper place, moving the other to timidly touch the arm held out for her. It looks like a nice strong arm, she has to admit. It might be nice to have that kind of support if she slips on the ice somewhere between the docks and Atesh-Gah.... [End log.]