"An Odd Chance Encounter"

Log Date:
	7/14/99

Log Cast:
	Faanshi, Maat

Log Intro:
	Now that she's come back to Haven, Faanshi has found herself 
somewhat at a loss as to how to conduct her life. She misses Avalon and
everyone she's met in her sojourn to the new nation keenly -- especially
StormBearer, Milane, and Thomas Murako. The knowledge that she has had to
return to Haven because of her prior allegiances to the Khalid Atar and to
Kiera has sat with her far less easily than she wishes, and although her
mind tells her she's done the right thing, her heart needs some convincing.
	And thus, Faanshi has begun to prowl Haven's streets in the midst
of the winter that has settled into the city, looking for signs of where
her power is needed, looking for any sign of her long-absent mistress,
and hoping in her innermost heart to find Mongrel men or women who she 
might convince to go to Avalon in her stead... to somehow make up for her
own inability to remain there.
	What she finds, however, is the Shakir of Clan Al'Samar, a woman
who has already demonstrated her ability to thoroughly intimidate the 
young shudra, and who proves to be just as daunting in the snow-covered
solitude of a park as she is in the midst of a crowd in the Rialto...

*===========================< In Character Time >==========================*
             Time of day:  Noon
          Date on Aether:  Friday, December 12, 3904.
           Year on Earth:  1504 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Waning Crescent
                  Season:  Winter
                 Weather:  Wind
             Temperature:  Cold
*==========================================================================*

Winter in Haven, for young Faanshi of Clan Khalida, has proven to be an 
  entirely different experience from the last winter -- the first winter she's 
  ever spent outside the vara of the clan of her birth. And to Faanshi, the 
  whiteness of the snow that has fallen down over the city along with the 
  chill of the wind gives her a strange even if desolate sense of peace. Out 
  here in the city gardens, where she can feel the cold sinking into her 
  slender frame, she feels oddly braced, oddly cleansed. Watching her growing, 
  leggy puppy Kosha frolic in that same snow coaxes a smile out of her, though 
  that smile is visible to no one, hidden as it is behind her veil.

Old City Garden - Haven
     A strange thing, to some, to see such a thick, unbridled mass of forest 
  within the city walls. Even during the brightest days, it is shady here; 
  looming tree branches above filter out the sunlight, casting shadows that 
  might be relieving during a warm summer day, or alternatively fearsome by 
  night. The heart of the garden is most often alive with the chirps and 
  chitters of the wildlife that makes its home here.
     Still, some civilization prevails, if only tentatively. A wide, roughly 
  cobbled road stretches east to west, suitable for the usual traffic of a 
  city street, if a bit precariously. Benches line the various man-made paths, 
  reminding the visitor that this is indeed intended to be a respite from the 
  bustle of the town, and is not merely some uncontrolled mass of trees within 
  Haven.
Contents:
Maat
Obvious exits:
Streets <E,NE,SW>  Garden Archway <W>

Maat enters into the snow-covered garden and though no horn trumpets her 
  entrance, the energy behind her stride coupled with the sizzle of her 
  presence announces her more clearly than any sound. Unlike the calm peace 
  which has been passed to Faanshi by the garden, none of that soothing energy 
  would appear to be entering Maat's being. She charges into the garden as she 
  does through life, without pause; her take no prisoners attitude is evident 
  in every line and fiber of her being.

With an entrance like that, Faanshi can't help but notice the older woman's 
  approach into the gardens -- and even if she'd missed it, the heralding bark 
  of the young dog Kosha is enough to warn her that someone else is entering 
  the place into which she'd retreated in search of solitude, though 
  admittedly chilly solitude. The half-grown pup's attention swings in Maat's 
  direction, his still somewhat oversized pointy ears perking up, his muzzle 
  lifting to let him sniff at the air as she draws near. Now uneasy, the young 
  shudra rises gingerly from the bench where she'd been sitting, prepared to 
  yield her sitting place if need be, and already scanning her immediate area 
  for a discreet way to withdraw.

Maat hunkers down until she is in a crouched position and then claps her hands 
  together in a forceful manner. This is a general summoning gesture and it 
  would appear that Maat is making it toward the pup. For now, she ignores 
  Faanshi, or would, alternatively, not seem to have noticed the shudra quite 
  yet. From the Shakir, a short, rising whistle issues as a double blast. 
  Indeed, she is calling the pup to her.

Kosha quirks his little canine head, aware at this point of what it means when 
  a biped makes such gestures at him -- but not particularly familiar with 
  this individual. He stands there in the middle of the tracks he's left all 
  over the snow chasing his own tail, and out of general affable doggy 
  curiosity, he barks.

Faanshi sighs behind her blue veil, taking a few steps closer to her 
  four-legged pet and companion. Her gaze stays lowered, but her soft voice 
  sounds out when she comes close enough to the dog to be heard: "Imphada, 
  Kosha. Imphada." This, apparently, means something to the pup. Once he hears 
  the girl, he promptly trots towards Maat, still sniffing inquiringly.

Maat pats the dog on the head after allowing him to sniff her hands which are 
  filled with the scents of ink and paper. "You are training him." It is not a 
  question, but a statement. The woman sounds neither pleased, nor impressed, 
  nor truly curious. It is a statement completely bare of future implications.

Drawing close enough for the older woman to maintain comfortable 
  conversational volume while she herself keeps a careful distance, Faanshi 
  keeps her gaze lowered to the half-grown dog. Kosha inspects the proffered 
  hand, and wags his fluffy plume of a tail as his head is patted; in the 
  meantime, the shudra in Khalida colors replies only, "Yes, Imphada." Her 
  voice, too, is kept appropriately humble, appropriately low.

Maat gives the dog another pat on the head and then rises back up to her full 
  height. "Do not let me keep you from training your dog." This is clearly a 
  dismissal, yet Maat does not leave the area, but continues to stand, tall 
  and peach in the snow.

Faanshi considers; is it proper, really, to explain to the honored lady that 
  she wasn't actually training the pup right this very minute? While Kosha of 
  his own accord parks his furry haunches in the snow and watches the two 
  females, hoping perhaps for scritches or a snack of some sort, the shudra 
  finally opts for truth of a minimal variety, murmuring in quiet tones, "Your 
  presence disturbs nothing of import, Imphada."

Maat folds her arms over her chest, in a familiar stance. "I see. What has 
  brought you to the park? Do you not have duties in Atesh-Gah?" With Maat is 
  always seems to be work, work, work. It is as if the woman knows nothing of 
  pleasure.

Well, that'd make two of a kind, then, at least in regards to duty. But 
  Faanshi shows no apparent acknowledgement of the distinct lack of pleasure 
  in the life of a shudra, especially when that shudra is a halfbreed. "Yes, 
  Imphada," she replies, green eyes still lowered, "but today I was permitted 
  a few hours to myself, and so I..." Well, she supposes to herself, it is 
  best to tell the truth even if voicing it might make her uncomfortable; the 
  trick, Faanshi has begun to learn, is offering that truth in an 
  appropriately sized quantity. "... came to visit the park to... reflect."

Maat lets out a breath that is like a sowing of the wind, sighing in a hiss 
  that would seem almost to have no end, though it does eventually die. 
  "Reflection. That is a worthy pastime. It would do many people well to 
  actually think rather than simply act."

Surreptitiously interlacing her fingers behind her back and giving herself an 
  opportunity to tuck them under her sari for warmth, Faanshi considers this 
  comment, not at all sure whether she is expected to respond to it. Her 
  relatively pale brow crinkles a bit, but still she does not look up. Finally 
  she murmurs sheepishly, "The Imphada's knowledge is superior to mine in such 
  matters."

Maat consider Faanshi, taking a moment to reach down and pet Koshi once again. 
  "What were you reflecting on?" The woman appears to have no qualm delving 
  into Faanshi's private matters, as if the shudra has less right to privacy 
  than one of a higher caste.

Oh good! He's getting attention! Kosha might have learned that the word 
  'Imphada' means 'person in front of whom I'm supposed to behave', but he is 
  still a young dog, and laps up attention like water. His tail starts wagging 
  vigorously at the petting. While she notices this, and smiles a bit behind 
  her veil, his young mistress nevertheless holds her attentive but demure 
  stance, her posture straight save for her bowed head. It does not surprise 
  her that her privacy should be breached, though. Faanshi pulls in a soft 
  breath, aware that she is also blushing behind her veil and finding herself 
  grateful for one of the first times in weeks that she still wears it. 
  "Upon... the best ways I might... serve the Amir-al, honored lady," she 
  murmurs, her words provided readily enough, though her voice grows slightly 
  huskier as she speaks, the only sign of her disquiet she cannot entirely 
  conceal. "Upon my... meager skills and how best to apply them in His 
  service." A pat answer, perhaps, but then, delivered by this maiden, it 
  still carries the ring of truth.

Maat continues to pet Kosha while listening to Faanshi explain. Her hand 
  leaves the top of his head and moves to the ears which she scratches behind. 
  "A noble line of thought. Has your mistress entered into this line of 
  thinking? She is still living in the forest and attempting to kill deer 
  without weapons the last that I heard." Maat's bejewelled hand is busy as 
  she speaks. It may not find the perfect itchy spot on the first try, but it 
  is certainly vigorously covering the area behind Kosha's ears.

"Imphada Kiera has not... chosen to confide in me, Lady," the maiden murmurs, 
  again with that vague tone of disquiet she cannot quite manage to hide. That 
  too is truth, though of limited form. Kosha, though, seduceable beast that 
  he is, wags his tail all the harder for this fine Imphada who has graced him 
  with her attentions, and his liquid puppy eyes survey her with rather more 
  high regard now. Perhaps, thinks the little puppy brain, she will have a 
  biscuit!

Maat does not appear disappointed, though it seems that she might have hoped 
  for more. Remaining low to continuing to lavish attention on the canine, she 
  asks Faanshi, "Would you like me to leave you now, shudra?" Certainly, Kosha 
  would want the woman to stay, but if Maat does not consider shudra and 
  naraki opinions worthy, certainly she will not be considering a dog's 
  opinion.

The question rather takes Faanshi aback. She's silent for a full two seconds 
  as she searches for words, and even then she has to pull in another breath 
  to steady herself before she can reply with appropriate humility, "It is not 
  my place to influence your choice of location, Imphada."

Maat gazes up mildly at Faanshi, then draws her hand away from Kosha so that 
  she can once again stand upright. "I believe I asked whether you wished for 
  me to leave or not." Humor now tinges her voice. "I do not believe I said 
  anything about obeying you."

Rather horrified at the concept of telling a vaisya woman -- especially this 
  particularly powerful vaisya woman -- that yes, thank you, she'd rather be 
  left alone at the moment, Faanshi swallows hard behind the 
  ever-increasingly-useful blue veil. It occurs to this maiden that certain 
  individuals of her acquaintance seem to believe that her veil is a symbol of 
  shame and captivity; to her, however, it is a shield and a refuge, the only 
  one she has. It allows her to hang onto her composure, the signs of her 
  discomfort safely hidden, while she murmurs, "I had... hoped for solitude 
  and inspiration from the purity of the snow, Imphada... but if... you 
  require my services, or if you wish this corner of the park for yourself, 
  I... my... solitude can wait." Shy words, but perhaps with a hint of resolve 
  beneath them. Or resignation, perhaps. Not once does Faanshi raise either 
  her gaze or her voice. And the notion of Nefer Maat obeying her is ignored 
  entirely, outlandish, beyond consideration. After all, about the only 
  creature liable to obey Faanshi is the dog.

Maat takes a step back from Faanshi. She does not move any further for a long 
  moment, enough that the beating of a nervous heart can be felt thudding 
  against the ribcage a thousand times. Finally, she turns her back fully on 
  Faanshi and stomps through the snow to exit the garden from the opening 
  opposite the one from which she entered. Another word is not issued from her 
  to the shudra and it cannot be deciphered whether Maat chooses to leave of 
  her own design or if she is listening to Faanshi's opinion and actually 
  taking it into consideration. Instead, the entire action is left as an 
  enigmatic mystery to be contemplated or ignored in turn.

Faanshi still doesn't look up, though her hearing -- sharpened as the hearing 
  of many a shudra is with the practice of using it to compensate for not 
  being permitted to look one's betters in the face -- keeps very good track 
  of where the older woman chooses to take herself. And indeed, the young 
  halfbreed shudra can feel her pulse thudding with nervousness. Only when she 
  can't make out Maat's steps crunching the snow does she risk a glance in 
  that direction... and only when a return does not seem apparent does the 
  maiden, unnerved, sag in uneasy relief and drop to her knee in the snow, 
  beckoning Kosha to her. The puppy yips bemusedly at the woman's sudden 
  departure, but happily scampers up into Faanshi's arms regardless... letting 
  the maiden spurn the chill purity of the contemplation of the snow for the 
  time being in favor of the warm affection of her dog.

[End log.]