"A Friend Found Again" Log Date: 5/9/99, 5/10/99 Log Cast: Faanshi, Thomas, Skyfire Log Intro: New gossip runs through the streets of Haven, about the return of the Mongrel leader Thomas Murako to the city. Some weeks ago, this news would not have reached the ears of the shudra Faanshi... but some weeks ago, she had not dared to venture out of the confines of Atesh-Gah, anxious to find her long-missing mistress and the naraki who had been kind to her, anxious as well to find some way in which she can increase her small control over her healing magic. The gossip has said that Thomas Murako has taken up a room in the Gem Inn, not far from the Varati citadel in the northern part of Haven. It is one of the small number of places that Faanshi has learned how to easily find, for it is not far from Atesh-Gah; it is, furthermore, a Varati place, a spot of familiarity in the otherwise huge and still alien-seeming maze that is Haven. And thus, hoping that the rumors are true, and hoping that if Thomas Murako is in Haven that this might also mean she can find Kiera, the halfbreed healer summons up the courage to venture to the Gem Inn and ask for the Mongrel who now occupies in one of the rooms within. The staff of the inn direct her up the stairs... ---------- You head up the spiral staircase to the second floor of the inn. Cinnamon Hallway - Second Floor - The Gem Inn - Haven Quiet. Despite the relatively high noise level downstairs, not much sound at all drifts up here. The thick carpets on the floor, luxuriant wool in cinnamon brown and pistachio green hues, muffle even the steps of the people who pass through here. The walls are of the same highly polished golden brown oak as is in the main room, though the tapestries are of even higher quality. The history portraited here is of Haven, if from a decidedly Varati viewpoint. At the end of the hallway there is a small door with a big window in it. That door opens out onto a wrought-iron balcony facing the courtyard behind the inn. Several brass lanterns are on the walls, giving a soft, golden illumination and spreading a hint of patchouli fragrance in the air. Obvious exits: Double Doors
Suite Three <3> Suite Two <2> Suite One <1> Spiral Staircase Suite One <1> A door in high polished oak, the maple syrup coloured tarnish of the wood making it stand out against the golden brown of the walls. The doorknob is shaped to resemble a fist gripping an assortment of jewelry, the perfectly reflective brass surface an echo of the one found in the ornate door number, a 1, found a few feet higher up. A soft knock sounds at the door come the fall of evening, a single tentative thump. One of the inn's workers, perhaps, to come to clean the room? But surely it's too late for that. Almost as afterthoughts, two more soft thumpings follow the first, not carrying too loudly through the polished oak of the door. Whoever's on the other side can't be particularly strong... or perhaps they're particularly shy. From within the confines of the room, you hear a voice call out to you. Its a familiar one which you recognize as Thomas', "Come in." It is resolute, without being aggressive, but definitely firm. You open the door to suite number one, a warm draft carrying with it the scent of cinnamon caressing your nostrils as you move inside. Suite One - The Gem Inn - Haven Silk. Silks in every thickness imaginable rule this suite, from the embroidered tapestries covering the walls and ceiling, the silk carpets softening one's step on the floor, to the cloth covering the armchairs and tabletops, and the covering of pillows, sheets and quilts of the massive oak bed. The furniture is generous though not cramped, the wood of choice still oak in many different hues of red, brown and gold, whilst the other colours in here are also warm. Honey, nutbrown, syrup orange and the occasional creamy white, with a few contrasting cobalts and rich, dark greens. The air smells lightly of cinnamon. Contents: Thomas Obvious exits: Out The invitation is obeyed, but as tentatively as the knocks that had sounded upon the door. That oaken door is pushed slowly open to reveal first a golden hand... and belonging to it, a slim figure in red and blue and gold, green eyes peeking up momentarily to take in the sight of the room and he who is within it. A small gasp escapes her, involuntarily, as Faanshi realizes that what she had heard was indeed true. In the early evening, Thomas sits alone in this bedchamber, a single oil-lamp is the only source of illumination that flickers over the oak and silk. You espy him at a desk, sitting there before it with a feathery quill in his hand -- the Mongrel that writes. This in and of itself is a miracle, as almost none of the abused race has this skill save scribes and others in the service of the Empyreans. The ex-naraki seems different somehow, and that is reflected even in the way he is positioned in the chair, one leg slightly askew. As he feels the inrush of air with the door's opening, his head turns to look over at you, "Faanshi?" His eyes squint just a touch with recognition. "What are you doing here?" His voice sounds curious, but almost disbelieving. You'd also notice that he is dressed in a tunica that is common to a warrior and you'd notice a large weapon, a sword, slung across his desk. This? This is a man who was a naraki? Faanshi stands there at the door, one hand upon its oaken side, the other involuntarily flying up to her veiled mouth at the sight of the room's inhabitant. "I... a... a man in the marketplace... he was saying to the vintner that you were here..." Involuntarily, for signs of writing and a weapon all mesh together in the young shudra's mind as signals of power and authority, and on the tail end of her whispered utterance, her stance begins to change. Her head bows, her eyes dipping timidly to the floor. "Pl-please forgive me for disturbing you, Imphadi Thomas..." Thomas You find yourself looking at a simple man who calls no pure race his own; a young Mongrel perhaps in his early twenties. But, occasionally, there is beauty in something so elementary, no more than lines or curves, ignoring breed or ancestry . His build is strong, sturdy as is a trademark of his kind, arms muscled and shoulders full of the kind of strength that empires are built upon. One might easily describe his 'look' as rugged, features are strong and well defined, as if carved from the very stone of a mountain. But, the hand was that of a Master, for there can be seen no flaw in its design, each line or angle is perfect and flawless, giving him a clasically handsome quality that few could call their own. The kiss of the sun has given his skin the tanned quality of one who often works afield, the whole blending well with the deep, chocolate brown locks which curl around his face and ears. The young Mongrel dons the garb of a warrior, in a fashion that is fitted for travel. Covering his broad chest is a coat of fitted metal scales over a surcoat of leather, this appearing well cared for, yet dirtied with the rigors of being outdoors. Beneath the armor is a purple-colored tunica, while his muscular legs are covered with thick pair of brown pants that are similarly stained with the dirt of passage. Strapped to his shins are a sturdy pair of solid plates, over which are fitted boots of supple riding leather. Thrown about his shoulders is a simple, black cloak that is equipped with a hood, and his hands are covered with a pair of riding gloves. Affixed to a thick belt about his waist is a heavy-looking broadsword in an unadorned sheath. It would seem rather odd, had you seen Thomas in the Varati's chains. One would hardly recognize him now, so straight does he stand and bearing with him that almost noble aire that was formerly dulled by the searing flames of the Atarvani. Yet, even those could not break him asunder. When he speaks, it is without fear and hesitation, carrying clear across the chamber and now beckoning you within, "No, you are not, Faanshi. Please, come in and join me." His large hand raises, gesturing you forwards with a slow, encouraging motion, "I had heard from a Varati man of the Clan Al'samar that you were searching for both Kiera and myself?" There is a slight pause as he looks at you, his manner clearly still disbelieving, "Why did you wish to seek me out? I had heard from Kiera that you were concerned something had happened to me. That I had perished?" ...taking a step forward, he hangs his head just a touch, "And please, call me Thomas. I am still little more than a naraki." Most Varati maidens might well be nervous, alone in a room with a man. And indeed, as she'd come into the inn asking after the whereabouts of Thomas Murako, Faanshi had flushed deeply beneath her veil at some of the measuring glances she had received from the inn's other patrons. Still, though... this is Thomas. And something, perhaps the unthreatening gesture of his hand, perhaps the mention of that other halfbreed to whom Faanshi had been given in service, coaxes her forward like a brightly-clad fawn stepping out of forest undergrowth. "Y-you have seen Imphada Kiera?" is the first thing she thinks of to say, her voice filling with a desperate hope, giving it almost enough volume to carry clearly across the room. Thomas is well aware of the Varati culture's prohibition against such things, which is perhaps why he finds your presence in his room to be something which he did not expect. "Yes, I saw Kiera the other day. She appeared out of nowhere. Flew down from the sky. We conversed briefly and she let me loose of my obligations as her naraki. Formally." The large Mongrel approaches, and seeks to close the door behind you. Wouldn't want anyone else to spread scandal about the two of you. As you hear the dull thud of the wood behind you, the man's shadow falls across you. "You are seeking her as well?" Now there is a definite question in his voice. "I had heard rumors that she had not been seen in Atesh-Gah for sometime. Some business about Cassius Augustin and the revelation of her true parents?" Struck dumb by not only her presence in the room to begin with, but also by Thomas's words, Faanshi says nothing as he speaks. She stands there with her hands clasped nervously at her breast, her eyes downcast, and only when the mongrel man seems to have stopped talking does the young halfbreed murmur, "I... know only that... a m-man named Cassius is her father, and... she left Atesh-Gah, but... but she did not confide in me as to... why, and... and I thought, perhaps I could find her, perhaps she w-went to look for you, but if she has found you, then..." And she trails off, the words growing a bit ragged, a bit too rapidly spoken, tinged with enormous doubt and uncertainty. "I am afraid I don't have the answers to what you've come here looking for, Faanshi. I've been on the road ever since I left Atesh-Gah." Thomas exhales slowly and you can hear the soft sound of his boots as he moves to cross the room at a slow pace. One hand hooks into the belt around his waist and soon he is back at his desk. "I'm afraid I have no idea where she is, but if you are looking for her, then apparently the rumors of her departure from the Varati are true. That indeed she could not deal with the reality of Cassius being her father. That she could not face Khalid with a clear conscience." He looks at the papers on his desk and fingers one slowly, "She wanted to be a God like him." Slowly his head shakes before he speaks more clearly, "Can I offer you some drink? Or some food? You must have travelled far to come here." Faanshi's saried form visibly slumps, radiating dejection for all that there isn't much of her expression visible. "I... came... only from Atesh-Gah," she whispers sadly. Thomas looks at you once again, his face half illuminated by the flickering shadows of the oil lamp, "What did you come here looking for, Faanshi?" He shifts his weight in the silence between, "Did you come here because you heard the rumors about the new nation?" This seems to startle her. Her head comes up for a moment, but then swiftly bows again, and it is with apparent effort that the girl whispers, "I... thought that you and Imphada Kiera... were dead, because you had... gone away, and not come back." Her voice comes out of her very small, almost childlike. Faanshi adds, after a moment, her veiled face still pointed downward at her rag-wrapped, sandaled feet, "But men were saying... in the marketplace... that you were here, and... I just... I just wanted to see. I-I am happy you are not dead, Mu... Tho.... Thomas." She falters on what name is proper to call the man before her, and if at all possible, her voice goes even shyer. The softest chuckle escapes Thomas' lips as he listens to your words. Yet, it is not an amused chuckle, it is one which seems to reflect mild disbelief, "You came looking for me because you were worried?" The chuckle fades off and is replaced with a smile, a gentle one, "I can't remember a time that anyone has done that before. Thank you." He takes a step closer, "But, are you sure that was what you really looking for? Kiera's gone, I'm gone, I had heard that Ulima was ill. Everyone is gone." Another brief moment of silence, "I know what it is like to be alone and to have no place. That was why when I left the Varati I needed to bring others closer to me. Others who were also alone and had no place. It was why we are working so hard today to make Avalon a reality. So that we have a place to call our home. Not as slaves or workers. But as free men and women. Where our talents are appreciated and we no longer have to cower in fear." Faanshi goes silent again as the armored mongrel man speaks, a slight portion of her nervousness soothed away... but not all of it. His words sound noble and grand to her untutored ears, but practically beyond her ken. The smile is missed, for even now, she does not dare to look up. Still, though, something in the cadences of his words prompts her to blurt, "M-my heart-mother, she..." "I know." Thomas whispers. Though she clearly wants to finish that statement, he does not require her to do so. He /does/ however take a step forward and hesitantly reaches out to touch you on the shoulder. His hand looms and will only come to rest if you do not flinch greatly from him. "At one time, Faanshi, you showed me great kindness. When I was suffering and I needed shelter, both you and Kiera gave me a place I could belong." A pause, "I am going to make you that same offer. If you wish, you can come remain with me and my people for a time. There, perhaps you could find a place to call home. At the very least, we could use your skills. I have heard you are a fine healer." "Wh-what?" The shudra girl can be felt to tremble, the sort of startlement coursing through her that someone shows when a touch in kindness is an alien thing, unexpected and unsought. Her head comes up hesitantly, that same startlement palpable in her leaf-hued eyes. Thomas nods, "You can come among my people for a time and there you will be treated as a friend." He smiles a bit, letting his hand rest full upon your small shoulder. So forbidden is such a simple gesture in the Varati culture. But then again, neither of you are among them at this moment and no one is watching. "If you wish such a thing that is. I know you have obligations to the Varati, and I would not ask you to renounce those unless you chose to do so. But ask yourself if what you have there is worth trading for a chance at a new life? A chance to be free of constraints and free of shame." His eyes drift towards your veil and then towards the door, but just briefly, "Beneath there is a beautiful face that is waiting to look at the world with those lovely eyes. Listen to your heart, Faanshi, and if it wishes to come with us, then return to me. It is all I will ask." Lovely or not, those green eyes over that blue silken veil go abruptly wide, thunderstruck. "I... I do not understand," she whispers, her slender hand flitting up unconsciously to the veil, as if to make certain it is still there. "Why do you say such a thing to me? I am not... not..." Faanshi can go no further than that, her trembling increasing, and with desperate haste she seizes upon something only slightly less troubling in Thomas's words. "Y-y-you want me to come with you...? To... to heal? But, but, no one wants me to touch them, they don't want me to..." Thomas's hand withdraws from your shoulder, sensing the unconcious fear that runs through your veins. He exhales slowly and shakes his head, "Do not ask questions. Just believe my words as you hear them and believe that I speak the truth. I have never lied to you and would not now." His entire focus is upon you and yet he does not withdraw, not yet, "There are many among us who want your touch. Many who need it. They need your help and your kindness. I have seen that in you. I have seen it first hand." Now, his words have grown strangely soft, almost muted. People who _need_ her. Aye, Faanshi has begun to see something of that herself... for it is exactly that that has driven the girl to surreptitious practice of her power on what hurt creatures chance to cross her path... and on what random beggars and street children she can find on tentative forays into the city around her. Creatures do not look at her in disgust... and neither do the occasional beggars, for thus far she has had the blessing of her anonymous garb and of nightfall to hide her activities. The thought that Thomas Murako knows of a place where she can go to practice her power, freely and without secrecy or danger, stops her cold. "You... have people who are hurt?" she breathes at last, tinily, plaintively. "Sick?" Thomas nods slowly, remaining a short distance from you, yet his gaze never wavers from your face, "Yes, Faanshi. There are many sick people amongst our number who are in need of a healer's aid. You well know that Mongrels are not capable of wielding magic and we must rely upon our own skills. The journey was hard on many, and the winter looms terrifyingly before us. I fear that without the aid of those more knowledgeable, our people will have a difficult time surviving the winter." His head bows just for a brief moment, voice growing softer, "You would of course be free to do whatever was necessary. Though we are not currently under the jurisdiction of the Delphi, they are aware of our activities and have sanctioned them. You would be safe there, at least for a time." Her veil hides it, though underneath that blue silken curtain, the maiden bites her lip. Faanshi's hands clench at her breast, her fingers intertwined, and she drops her gaze down to them, uneasily watching them tremble. "I might hurt them," she murmurs mournfully. "I-I have... magic" -- and her voice catches on the word, as though to say such a thing aloud requires much effort -- "b-but sometimes it does not work right, Thomas..." The Mongrel man exhales slowly, his eyes drifting back up towards you once again, "You have a gift." Thomas pauses, his hands still hanging at his sides, "I can see that you have a desire to use it. Yet here, among the city of the Delphi, you will find that to be very difficult." He notices the tension that courses through you, noting that this is not something that is easy for you. Hence, he proceeds with caution, his voice firm, yet soft and gentle. Encouraging. "Yes, it is true that you might hurt them, but if you do not try, they will almost certainly die. I would rather give them a chance for hope, rather than a certain demise. Will you deny them that? Hide your talents because you fear them?" Someone might die, if she does not act...? Color drains out of what is visible of the maiden's features, her big slanted eyes crinkling up over the veil, turning liquid, overbright. "I do not want anyone to die!" she cries hoarsely, aghast. Without stammering, and with an uncommon force to her otherwise soft little voice. Thomas shakes his head, instinctively taking a step closer as he sees you near panic now. His hand raises to calm you, but he does not touch your shoulder again, "Relax." He takes moment to pause, his voice remaining calm and measured to emphasize that there is no need for alarm. When he speaks next, it is with a soft exhale, as if resigned to something, "You cannot stop everyone from dying. It is a natural part of living. None of us is immortal and can live without death. It will come to us all in time. But you have a gift which /can/ make a difference. It can change people's lives and it /can/ save them. The decision to use that gift is yours. I merely offer you a place where people with it are badly needed." After finishing, he takes a moment to turn away, his gaze finding the desk and the papers upon it once again. As it grows later, the oil lamp burns a bit lower, its flame still flickering and fighting back the shadows with a steely resolve. Panic, indeed, is all too palpable in Faanshi's now hot, wet eyes, not to mention her entire bearing. Those eyes of hers squeeze shut, tears beginning to trickle out from behind black lashes, and her shoulders begin to visibly quiver. Innocent though Faanshi is, the implications of this choice before her loom ominously in her consciousness. Fretfully, she tries to make sense of them while babbling softly aloud, "I... I hoped I could find Imphada Kiera because the Amir-al, he ordered me to serve her... I-I have no other master or mistress, but I-I have tried to work for Clan Khalida a-and serve them well... I am supposed to control m-my magic but no one wants to teach me, th-they do not want me to touch them, and Ulima is gone now, and... and..." A sniffle scapes her, and with shaking hands, she fumbles for her sari, trying to dab at her eyes before her veil is too soaked with her tears. "I-I do not want to be a bad shudra, b-but I cannot let anyone die, Thomas, I can't...!" Clearly things are coming to a head for poor Faanshi here. With Ulima gone, and all the other people in her life mysteriously vanished, the girl has clearly floundered for a purpose and a place. The incredible stress only now finding an outlet in these moments where she can indulge in such emotions. As soon as you start to tear, Thomas takes those few steps closer and bends down before you, so that his eyes are level with yours, "Faanshi, listen to me, please." You can feel his large hands close over your upper arms, as if to embrace you, but he does not pull you close, "I know that you want to be a good shudra and that you want to help others, but you cannot stop everyone from dying. You can't." In that moment, his voice seems very emphatic. "Even the greatest of mages cannot stop such a thing. Do not blame yourself for actions that are beyond your control. Clan Khalida has not given you an outlet for your skills and that is not your fault. The Amir-Al ordered you to serve Kiera, but Kiera no longer is among them. Now is a time when you will have to decide. Decide where it is that you wish to go and what it is that you wish to do. I cannot make that decision for you, but I can say that I do think your service to the Varati is at an end." Reaching one hand over, he pulls a piece of cloth from within the folds of his tunica, "Here, take this and dry your eyes." He extends it towards you, "There is no reason to cry. You are among friends now." It's not too much of a bend; for all that Faanshi is slight of build, still, she is not particularly short, a fact often hid by the way she tends to keep her head bowed and her shoulders hunched, as if braced for a blow. She starts as the mongrel man's hands reach for her, shivering as though she were a nervous bird he'd managed to take into his grasp, and it takes her a few moments before she focuses upon the proffered cloth. Then tentative gold-hued fingers accept it, and in awkward motions she attempts to dry her tears, not once daring to look up to meet the firm gaze upon her. For several long moments, she is silent. And then, at last, she whispers tinily, "A-are your people... very far away?" Thomas shakes his head, "We are not as far as you think, but many of them are beyond the borders of Haven." There is a brief pause as he draws a breath, "But there are many who are still here who are in need of aid." As you grasp the cloth from his hand and use it to dry away your tears, you can next feel the fingers of that same hand upon your chin, attempting to lift it just a touch so that your eyes can find his. He invites you to look upon him as an equal and not as a servant, in the same way he invites you to join his group. The Mongrel who would break everything, would ask you to merely give him a simple glance. Not something so complex, yet after years of subjugation, it becomes so. "I know you feel like you have not made the right choices, or that perhaps you have failed in your duties somehow. I also know how hard it is to set out on your own. To find a place for yourself where you feel as if you belong. The hardest thing you will ever do in your life is to change. But, it is part of becoming. Part of growing up. Part of life." You hear a knocking coming from Out Her veil is neither so concealing that her chin cannot be found behind it, nor so thick that the contours of a delicate jawline cannot be felt beneath the filmy, flimsy blue gauze. At that touch, however, Faanshi is startled enough that she does not think to prevent Thomas's attempt to find her gaze, and she freezes there with his fingers upon her chin, her own still clinging to the tear-dampened cloth she'd been given. Eyes turned a deeper green by the wetness within them, fringed round by black lashes turned into starry points by those same tears, are brought up to meet the eyes of the armored man. And then... the knock comes, and the maiden jolts as violently as if she'd been struck by a bolt of heaven-dropped skyfire. Thomas looks up slowly, his gaze relucantly drawn from your own towards the person who knocks upon the chamber door. He announces, "Enter!" Skyfire enters from the hallway. Skyfire has arrived. When Skyfire enters, Thomas is crouched before a mildly distraught Faanshi, his hands are just sliding from her upper arms. The Mongrel man rises to his full height, clearing his throat, he gives the Sylvan an even stare, "Greetings, sir. What can I do for you?" Skyfire opens the door of the suite, peering in a moment before saying, "Chookma...I didn't mean to disturb...I have a message for Dominus Thomas Murako..." The name is said very carefully as he tries to remember it. "It is from Adept Jana." No last name is given. The maiden standing before Thomas Murako is one clad in a Varati's garments, and as the door opens to admit the second visitor into the room, she can be seen to visibly jolt. Tear-filled green eyes flash for a moment to the newcomer, just long enough to register that he is here and he is male. Faanshi's gaze plummets to the floor with all the speed of a bird shot down out of the sky, and she unconsciously inches away from Thomas. Skyfire Long red-black hair is pulled back into a loose braid, shorter pieces continually get in his almond-shaped leaf-green eyes or pulled from the braid. Tied off with a leather thong, the braid hangs nearly to his waist. A few strands of silver peek through the ruddy mane, perhaps more from stress than age, for this Sylvan seems in his prime. Pointed ears seems to push their way through the thick hair, rather pale for a Sylvan. As a matter of fact, his entire complexion isn't as hearty as it should be perhaps. Even the few freckles on his face seem in higher contrast than one would suppose. Standing nearly 6', he seems to be rather slim, but there is more of a supple strength than sickly weight-loss to him. His long-fingered hands are likewise pale, but seem quite strong. When the weather is warm...or at least when there is no snow or ice on the ground, this Sylvan happily walks barefoot. Granted, the feeling of stone beneath his feet isn't quite the same as earth and leaves, but it is close enough. His bones are almost delicate; high cheekbones, a straight nose, tapered chin, but there is obvious masculinity in the purity of his features. But there is a sadness in those bright green eyes...a yearning, as if he longs for something he knows he cannot have. He wears the traditional grey kaftan of the elementalists, the weave shot through with deep green threads. At the collar of the kaftan are pinned two emerald pips, denoting his rank of Acolyte. The usual-long sleeves of the kaftan are trimmed shorter and closer to his arm so as not to get in his way and the long robe is hemmed barely to his knees so he doesn't trip. Underneath the kaftan he sports a beige-woven shirt and dark brown leather pants that cut off mid-calf. His feet, it might be noticed, are almost always bare. Around one wrist he wears a stone and wood bracelet, designs carved into the wood of the ornament illustrating his name. Thomas shakes his head slowly and approaches Skyfire with a slow step, his hand lingering off Faanshi's shoulder, "A message?" He nods, "Certainly, what is it?" A pause as he glances back to the Varati woman, and then to the Sylvan, "And please, Thomas. Dominus is so formal and a title that I do not deserve to wear." Focusing his eyes intently upon the message-bearer, he awaits the words that will follow. Skyfire looks at you for a moment. Skyfire's eyes flick to the Varati-garbed woman as she moves, but then looks back to Thomas. He holds out a piece of parchment...no doubt the message. "I don't know what it is about...she seemed in a rush as she asked me to do this." He flashes both a smile as he wonders if he should wait for a response. Looking back over his shoulder he checks to see that his Adept is still there. Yep, still nursing a drink. "Very well. I shall attend her immediately." Thomas turns to look at Faanshi, approaching the woman once again and bending down, hands placed upon his knees, "Faanshi. I've got to go see Jana at the Delphi. I believe it is a matter of some importance. Do you wish to remain here in my room, or return to Atesh-Gah?" The large man seems to speak to the shudra with amazing kindness and a gentle voice, "I know you will need some time to think on what we've talked about here today, and I don't want to rush you into a decision." The girl in red and blue and gold, visibly shaken, blurts out, "I-I should go back..." Her voice is ragged with weeping, and she keeps her head down, her gaze avoiding the brown regard of Thomas Murako. "I-I should go..." Skyfire steps back into the doorway, "Should I go ahead and tell Jana you will be there soon?" This isn't really his place to be right now...perhaps the two need some more privacy? Thomas straightens and nods to Faanshi, "If that is what you wish." He looks over his shoulder towards Skyfire for a moment, "Yes, I will be along in just a moment, friend." Faanshi starts to stumble away, out the door, then realizes she's still holding onto the cloth that Thomas had given her to dab her eyes. Her bearing full of trepidation, she turns back to him, holding out the tear-soaked cloth. "I got it all wet," she murmurs unhappily. Skyfire nods to Thomas and heads back to the main room of the Inn to gather up his Adept, closing the door behind him... Skyfire leaves for the hallway. Skyfire has left. Thomas shakes his head slowly to the Varati woman, "Keep it. I've got others." He takes a step closer to her and speaks with that same tone, "Faanshi. I mean it. If you wish to return, I will be here. My offer still stands. Come to the room, or leave a message with the inn keeper. Well enough?" Straightening just a bit, he crosses his hands before himself and waits for your reply. Faanshi goes still, her hand holding the square of cloth poised there for a moment before her; only slowly does she finally pull it back towards herself, as if the option of doing so had not previously occurred to her. She does not speak, though her bowed head turns slightly towards Thomas as she listens. And then, timidly, the young halfbreed healer nods. "Yes," she whispers towards the floor. Thomas's eyes remain on you just for a moment, a silence falling over the room like a palapable blanket. It is broken by the Mongrel, who softly clears his throat and turns towards the room's bed. Walking towards it with determined steps, he retrieves a simple leather bag from its surface and places it over his shoulder. Turning to look at you, he keeps that look upon his face, "Come. I'll show you out." And with that, he starts towards the exit to the room, reaching for the door handle. Out. That simple action, that simple concept, is swiftly seized upon by the upset girl. Ashamed of her tears, ashamed of her weakness -- for is she not failing to uphold the third and possibly the ninth surahs, weeping as she is? -- Faanshi moves as quickly as she can manage to the door, waiting only for Thomas to open it before she flees out into the corridor. You open the door and step into the hallway. Cinnamon Hallway - Second Floor - The Gem Inn - Haven Obvious exits: Double Doors
Suite Three <3> Suite Two <2> Suite One <1> Spiral Staircase Thomas enters from suite number two. Thomas has arrived. Thomas steps out after you, noticing your swift retreat, and he calls out, even as you are moving from him, "Faanshi!" And yet again, she starts, green gaze flickering over her blue-clad shoulder. Had it been anyone else, anyone at all, Faanshi would have continued her escape. But this is Thomas, and the brief glimpse she'd allowed herself of his compassionate visage coaxes her into stopping, into blurting, "Y-yes?" "I missed you." Thomas stands there in the hall, half in shadow, his hands hung at his sides, "Good evening." And then he grows silent, his eyes turning from you and down towards the ground, just for a moment. Though it will do little to curtail your shame, the words are as genuine as anyone could ever wish to hear from the lips of another. "You... you did?" The halfbreed girl looks up involuntarily, that sudden admission catching her not unlike the fingers at her chin had done. Veiled, her expression cannot be easily read, but her leaf-colored eyes peek up to take in Thomas for a long moment, something like wonder beginning to displace the anguish still weighing down her gaze. _I should go,_ she thinks wildly, for not only must she return to her work at least for a little while, but this Mongrel man, this former naraki who has taken on a task she can barely comprehend, has business that demands his attention. Still, something keeps her, as the thought crosses her mind that the man she knew as a naraki now looks like... a Warlord. Embarrassed, then, that she should be gazing at one who carries himself like the leader of a Clan, she hastily averts her gaze. But she also blurts, "I missed you, too...!" And with that, her resolve breaks, and she flees towards the stairs, her blue sari fluttering along her frame as she goes. [End log.]