"Flame of Spirit, Dust of Dreams" Log Date: 8/7/00 Log Cast: Jerrod, Asadel, Roxana, Niamh, Faanshi, Amipal, Keegan, Thalia, Safiyyah, Sumai, a phoenix (Grace), a fox (Brighid), Orson Log Intro: With winter on its way over Haven, it is the time of the ritual the Varati call "Invoking the Flame", a ceremony to give thanks for the eternal light of Ashur Masad. And Faanshi, living on the edge of the lives of the Children of Fire as she so often feels herself to do, is nevertheless humbly curious when she hears of this ritual scheduled to take place upon the beaches of Haven. It is not often that Faanshi feels comfortable coming near, much less participating in, the rituals of the Varati people... but tonight, at least, she is drawn to the beach in search of at least a glimpse of the honoring of the Holy Father of Khalid Atar. She doesn't expect to be allowed to participate, the recent kindness to her of the Warlord of Clan Messala notwithstanding. It will be enough, she tells herself, to gain at least a small idea of how Ashur Masad must be properly honored. But others besides Faanshi have chosen to infiltrate the ritual tonight, and the scene the young shudra discovers is not the slightest bit what she was expecting.... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Evening Date on Aether: Tuesday, November 26, 3906. Year on Earth: 1506 A.D. Phase of the Moon: New Season: Fall Weather: Clear Temperature: Cool *==========================================================================* You walk down the winding path towards the beach. Beach - Haven Soft sands from years of gentle ocean currents greet the feet of those who explore the expanse of beach that leads from the streets of Haven to the edges of ocean. The hushed roar of the waves can be heard, a lulling sound to the attentive ear. The sand stretches out for about a quarter of a mile and allows for plenty of space for pursuits of leisure. Depending upon the time, you may be graced by the awe-striking sunset, the peaceful glow of the moon, or the comforting rays of the midday sun. Several ocean birds fly overhead as if frolicking around and playing in the air, occasionally swooping down towards the ocean surface to retrieve a tasty morsel. The ocean itself seems to be calm and relaxing near the shore for several hundred feet before the sands slope harshly and drop. There, the water is safe only for experienced swimmers and boaters. There is a small path that leads towards the town that is paved with sand and lined on either side by flowers. Contents: Keegan Amipal Roxana Jerrod Sumai Safiyyah Brighid Asadel Thalia Grace Niamh Firewood Obvious exits: Path to the City Haven Bay Jerrod also stares into the flames, tossing a bug or two into the fire as he stares intently into the fire. Suddenly, he starts to talk to the fire, and then, suddenly, he yells "I WILL NOT EAT THE BUG!" and turns away from the fire. The beach is a strange sight. Varati gather around the leaping flames of the bonfire, but there is an odd flavor to the celebration. While many seem to be taking the ceremony in a proper, respectful manner, a goodly number of the rest are starting to laugh and lounge. And a very few mutter to themselves and stare off into space as if watching.. something. But there is nothing to be seen. Asadel seems utterly absorbed by the fire, infact he starts to walk towards it, dusky arms held open as if to embrace a lover Roxana is in absolute accord with Amipal's decision and rises gracefully to her feet, catching the end of her sari in one hand and pressing it to her face. What? She's leaving? Oh, no...not when he hasn't even spoken with her. Stepping behind the Kaimakam Niamh places a hand on the Agni-Haidar's shoulder with an affable smile, "The festival has just begun." In fact he moves to offer the Maharani his arm, "Your Higness, would you care for a stroll down the beach?" His eyes are fixed on her... They probably will not want her among them, Faanshi thinks to herself -- but still, there's an innocent, hopeful little girl lurking somewhere behind her veil, one who cannot help but at least try to sneak a peek at a party. Invoking the Flame... it's not quite the same thing as Holi, where revelry swamped Atesh-Gah and even gave a humble shudra a chance to shed her veil and lift her face to the eyes of men. But it's enough to draw Faanshi away from her usual treks through the city. She'll stop just long enough to see, at any rate... and daydream, where no one will notice her. Jerrod suddenly jumps Asadel, tackling him to the ground. "She's MINE! all MINE!" he says coldly as he keeps Asadel away from his fiery love. Amipal takes hold of Thalia's arm, levering the Varati Queen rather unceremoniously to her feet. "We're leaving, your majesty, because I've *said* that we're leaving," he murmurs, in a soft voice that nonetheless brooks no backchat. Niamh's presence seems an annoyance that the Kaimakam is doing his civil best to overlook, unter the circumstances. "I'm sorry, Estrel," he interjects. "Perhaps another time." Edging his way out of the gathering of Messala, Keegan makes his way slowly toward the fire. One strong arm supports a small box of herbs and incenses, of the finest quality. Approaching the fire, he lifts the box before him, and murmurs a small prayer. Focusing upon the box, it begins to crack and bubble, finally aking flame in the young man;s hand before being tossed into the fire. A sweet smoke wafts its way toward the heavens soon, bearing prayers aloft. Asadel doesn't even seem to notice he has fallen to the ground, his large bulk crashing unceremoniously into the sand Thalia blinks hazily at Niamh even as Amipal's superior strength moves her in the Agni-Haidar's desired direction. "Actually, Estrel," she corrects in a teacher-like tone, "my correct address is Maharani or your Majesty. Highness would be for a Princess, such as my daughter Oriane. I was actually coronated by Khalid and thus am not a Highness, but a ruling Queen. Therefore, the proper form of address is your Majesty." Sweetness, gentleness, and the ability to disregard faint errors in etiquette as insignificant appears to have flown away from Thalia. Niamh offers a rare, winning smile, "Truly, Imphadi, she would come to no harm with me." After all, he's Estrel and Nabi and all that good stuff. Want him to toss up a fireball to prove it? He continues to look into the Maharani's lovely, lovely eyes, "Your Majesty, I regret that we have not spent more time together..." Ooh, he loves it when she talks rough like that... Safiyyah slips forward on hands and knees. The strange affairs with the Queen-Maharani serves well enough to draw attention, for the moment. To Keegan's feet she crawls and then sits back on her heels. As the box bubbles, burns and then slowly falls to ash, she reaches out to wind her fingers into the fire, pulling her hand out with flame licking around it. With a small smile, she makes a motion as if tucking this flamelet into her pouch and then looks up at Keegan with a warm expression, holding her now-extingusished fingers to him as if expecting a hand up. "An honorable offering, imphadi." Jerrod suddenly stands, helping Asadel up. "Shall We both have her?" He asks, motioning to the fire and the woman he sees in there. Roxana could not agree more with her Queen. To deny her proper title is to deny the Maharani, crowned by Khalid's own will. Khalid created her Queen, not Concubine, and thus she is due proper title. And besides, the Estrel's manner does not seem quite appropriate towards a married woman, especially not the wife of his God. Something is ringing warnings in Roxana's mind, and she doesn't like it one bit. Asadel shakes his head, the dark locks of his hair snaking about as he tries to clear his head, slowly leavering his large bulk up. His calloused hands come over his face as he tries to work out what is happening Sumai's olive-brown eyes narrow as he watches the scenes unfold before him with a sneer of disdain and a frown coming onto his lips. "Akmed. Find those cats, if they won't come willingly... shoot them. Either way, use your discretion. Cover your face with silk like you would in the desert." he says in a growling and rumbling voice. Akmed, the aforementioned guardsman, bobs his head once and takes a series of guards with him. All armed and armored heavily as they begin to cloak their faces with silk that is born at variousp laces upon their bodies. Sumai turns and looks for his charge for a moment and releases a faint, irritated growl like an angry great cat before he spies her by Keegan. Watching as the woman removes her hand from the fire, Keegan narrows dark eyes toward her. "It is the best our clan had to offer in incense and herbs." Bending down momentarily, he takes her hands and lifts them gently, enticing her to stand. No need to have her on the floor like a naraki in front of all these people. Amipal surveys the smiling Estrel through narrowed eyes, the politeness of his expression waning by slow but evident degrees. "Doubtless, Estrel, she would be safe with you," he returns, granting the point without any serious conviction behind it. "Fortunately for both of us, that isn't your concern." He throws out an open palm, splayed parallel to the ground, and the Agni-Haidar complement shifts into motion towards the city proper; the Kaimakam himself starts walking, carrying the Queen-Maharani along behind. Thalia chirps back at Niamh in a reversal of her earlier stern voice, "Oh, yes, Estrel. You should visit more often. Come to Atesh-Gah. We'll do tea. I put on a lovely tea with crumpets and sweet chocolates. The most delightful cream puffs come from the kitchen. They just melt in your mouth." She looks over at Roxana. "Don't you love the cream puffs, Imphada? Oh and the cakes." She pats Amipal on the arm like a grandmother might pat the arm of her grandchild. "Oh, let's stop at the Rialto on the way home and get some chocolate cakes, hmmm? They would go so nice with a dark tea." Jerrod shrugs and starts to walk towards the Estrel, the Maharani and Roxana. Maybe one of them'll dance with him? Safiyyah rises almost gracefully, her hand within Keegan's as she gathers herself to her feet. The smile remains curving her lips gently and she nods, "You do yourself, and your clan, much honor, imphadi." She touches his cheek in an affectionate gesture and then turns from the fire and the heat of it to look for the other person that 'ought' to be there. Spying Sumai she lifts her free hand to him. Niamh actually pouts as Thalia is led away. "I shall, Your Majesty!" Well, now that she's gone nothing left to do but juggle small fireballs. Ah, such is life. Faanshi keeps herself a fair distance away from the gathered celebrants, and so she and her dog are out of easy conversational range. But the shudra maiden is not so far away that she cannot catch glimpses of what appear to be... strange actions going on. There's her mistress, unmistakable with the snowy wings that grace her shoulderblades, even more unmistakable surrounded by her Lions of Fire... but her Lions of Fire appear disgruntled, if the swift motions of the man who can only be her Kaimakam are any indication. The shudra frowns behind her veil, then lowers a hand to Kosha, whistling softly to him, calling the dog to follow her as she ponders backing away the way she'd come. Disgruntled Agni-Haidar, regardless of what else is going on on the beach, are enough to give the shudra maiden significant pause. No, nothing to see her. Don't mind the halfbreed as she goes about her business... Keegan nods toward Safiyyah, inclining his head at her words. "Thank you Imphada. You do me great kindness with your words." Escorting her back toward Sumai, and the rest of Messala, he aims dark orbs toward his brother. Why is this woman outside? Where others can see? Roxana turns to join the Maharani and Agni-Haidar as they prepare to leave. She stays at the Queen's elbow, looking back at all the odd behaviour with a worried crease between her brows. Quietly, she comments, "I do not like this one bit, Honoured Kaimakam." There is something in the air beyond the fungus, and it worries her. She is a virgin yet, but some of the comments from the gathered Varati have worried her deeply. Best by far to be out of the way - after all, a rape is the fault of the woman, in Varati society. The Phoenix rises from the ashes.. or rather from the shadows. Cocky grin showing from beneath carved and wooden hooked-bill. From within the holes of her mask, the girl clearly has the temerity to wink broadly at Faanshi before she inhales and then delicately blows the powder from her palm into the woman's face. She whirls away in a sudden flash of light and feather, firelight glowing off of warm-dyed tones of the same shade. Thalia waves cheerily to Faanshi as she spies the halfbreed. "I'll see you at home, sweetie," she calls out. "You and Kosha can come have some cream puffs." Her words drift along the sands as she is hauled up the slope toward the streets of Haven by Amipal. Jerrod changes his mind and walks towards Faanshi, offereing her a hand. "Can I have this dance, Domina?" he asks, "You're wings are like grapes and your lips like sausages!" he smiles cheerfully. Your teeth tingle. All along your skin, tiny electric currents of pleasure dance about at random, almost tickling. Your head feels heavy, yet the rest of you is light, so light it feels as if you might float away but for the careful weight of your cranium holding you to the earth. Your whole body is filled with a warm, pleasent sensation and it seems like it would be.. so easy to do all those things you would never allow yourself to do in normal circumstances because.. you just feel so good and nothing else matters. Kosha whips around in startlement at the figure that seems to appear from out of nowhere -- but his outburst of barking proves more or less needless as the disguised figure scampers off the way it had come. Faanshi begins to cough behind her veil, lifting a hand to her head. Ushas, what...? Thalia's words from somewhere far away make her blink in that direction, and then the girl and her startled hound both whirl about again as Jerrod calls out to her. All right... it's official. This is strange. "I... think not, Imphadi," she blurts, as earnestly as possible, starting to back away forever. Holy Mother, is she getting ill? Roxana blanches, as much as is possible for a dark-skinned Varati. Faanshi is here, with *him* bearing down upon her? The Healer may not be Kshatri, but Roxana wouldn't wish Jerrod on the lowest cess-pit slave. As the juggled fireballs help light up other parts of the beach, the Estrel catches sight of more wings. Ooh! The flames disappear as he makes his way over to the half-hidden Grace, "Excuse me, but I couldn't help notice how your wings seem to shimmer..." Near-black eyes are pools of admiration as he gazes at her. Odd for a Varati to say, isn't it? The fox makes its way quickly through the crowd, reaching one end and doubling back, as though it were all planned. A silent breath launches more dust into the air, silent and invisible, it spreads like the plague upon the wind, with much better results. Brighid smiles to herself, knowing that tonight she does the work of Ferrin. Amipal settles into a steady pace once Thalia seems to be cooperating with his 'suggestion' of departure; the sizable movement of men and attendants isn't rushed, but it is definitely an exodus, and it is steadily leaving the jubilant gathering behind. "The woodland folk are about some mischief," the man murmurs in response to Roxana's soft words. "We can only hope that there is little malice in the affair." Safiyyah allows herself to be led with docile grace, flowing up to Sumai on Keegan's hand. She laughs softly and continues that sinuous move right up to the warlord, leaning her head on his breastplate. "Ah, imphadi. It is a shame.. such a shame.." She pats his chest--or rather the smooth curve of metal absently with her free hand, still forgetting the other in Keegan's grip. Jerrod is Kshatri! He's..ah.. Jerrod d'Harmal al'Gul! So Naa! He can dance with anyone he wants! And he walks over to the dog and offers him a bug. The flash of another masked face, a rabbit, within the crowd elicits a quick gasp as dust is blown into the face of a woman. Then, as if never there, the form fades back into the crowd, toward the outer edge of darkness. The phoenix blinks. Twice. She tilts her head to look up into Niamh's face with a sudden tremble from head to toe and then a bright, ringing laugh. She whirls, back to the Estrel and wings outspread in all their dyed glory. With the look of a coquette even with the mask, she peers back over her shoulder and calls, "D' you like?" Roxana's veil and silken sari evade her grasp for a moment and she breathes in, the coughs. She can feel her mind trickling out between her ears, and she only caught the tail edges of a cloud. Trained in herbalism, and having undergone certain rituals with mind-altering substances involved, Roxana tries to hang on to what is left of herself with all her might, suddenly leaning heavily on the shoulder of one of the Maharani's Agni-Haidar as she fumbles her silken sari back upwards towards her mouth and nose. Thalia chirps like a canary, having attached herself to the last word in Amipal's speech, "Affairs, now there is something the Empyreans do well. There is always something to gossip about. Who is sleeping with who and vice versa. Now, this concubine system really limits the amount of gossip because you have one man and many women and it is all condoned. How can it be illicit if is condoned? Really, women should be allowed to have male harems. It would only be fair and just." Niamh reaches out to bury his hands in the bright plumage, "Shall I show you how much?" is breathed into those glorious feathers. A phoenix...how appropriate. He could drown in these feathers right now and die a happy man. Looking at Keegan and Safiyyah as they grow nearer, "Keegan keep her with the guardsmen, be gentle. I think she likes you right now in any case." Sumai's huge voice says as he looks around the beach and sees the halfbreed and motions to a guardsman who lifts up a crossbow questioningly and Sumai shakes his head a moment before he moves towards Faanshi. "Come here, girl." he says commanding her as he looks around at the people nearby. "Keegan, get ready to leave. I've had enough of this... fiasco." he says with a snarling voice and narrowing eyes which flicker to life with an orange-red glow. The very air seems electrified with courage and vigor, and fear is almost forgotten. So intoxicated upon this foreign courage, a woman lifts her veil, in public, to land a kiss upon the face of a stranger. Gasps emit almost immediately, but the woman simply smiles as if life could not be better. Free of all restrictions at last, she takes another deep breath, and moves off to find another lucky victim of her affections. The bird-woman shrieks and then giggles, whirling back about, wings flipping behind her now to settle those feathers back into place. She wiggles one finger at the forward man, fingertip going tick-tock, back-and-forth in front of her beaked mask. "Now, now, now. Y' gotta rub 'em th' right way 'r they get all messed up." Nodding to his brother and warlord, Keegan firms his grasp upon Safiyyah's hand, and remains at her side. A brief grin accompanies the revelation of her apparent feelings at the moment, but seriousnes takes over once more. "Yes Sumai," come practiced words. It's official. This is not only strange, it is downright alarming. Even as Kosha growls unsurely at Jerrod, not at all sure what to make of the man's thrusting a wriggling insect at him, Faanshi staggers back several steps. If there is any emotion alien to the young shudra, it is utmost euphoria, and her inner being revolts at the strange sensations trying to flood her system. Her magic roils awake as well, beginning to disorient her, and only when Sumai's command cuts through her growing daze does she snap up her head. Her eyes are wide and frightened above her veil. Safiyyah rolls off Sumai's breastplate with a heavy sigh. She glances around and asks with much disappointment audible in her voice, "Must we? It seems.. so happy. It has been a long time since.. everyone was happy." Niamh scowls a bit, like a chastised child, but then holds out his hand. "Show me then..." Indeed he seems quite eager to learn. "Such wings have always fascinated me..." he stares at the brightly dyed feathers, his eyes beginning to unfocus a bit. Oh, he is quite stoned...most assuredly for the first time in his life. Jerrod pouts at the dog. "Aww!" he says before staring at Faanshi. "You know what?" He asks, "I have healing magic too!" He crows! Below the beak, a lip is chewed in contimplation, and then the phoenix sidles up and takes Niamh's hand, turning to place it on her wing and stroke from curve to tip. "This way, y'see. Alla feathers go tha' way.. no' the other." She grins up into the Estrel's face with wicked delight. Roxana taps Amipal's shoulder, remembering what she was going to say before the spores hit. "Kaimakam - Faanshi?" She points back towards the fire with one thumb. Not exactly graceful, but it gets the meaning across. The fox moves quickly, covering ground she has yet to visit. She cannot be certain where her fellow Sylvans hit, so she takes the methodical approach. Do it all over again. After a few good puffs, she is content in the knowledge that some sections were sprikled three times. Quite enough. Making her stealthy way backwards, she meanders her way up into the dunes. Amipal follows Roxana's serviceable gesture towards the distant shudra, and his already dark expresion darkens even further; a soft sigh issues from between his lips. Taking rough hold of the nearest Agni-Haidar, he murmurs, "Take Queen Joy here back to the Atesh-Gah. Do not... let's be clear, do *not*... stop and wait for me." His exasperated gaze returns to Roxana long enough for the man to say, "I'll see what she's about." Niamh fondles the wing, reveling in the texture that just seems heightened by the dust he inhaled. In fact, he even bends down to bury his face in the feathers, breathing in their wonderful scent...their brush against his skin... If he is not stopped he might try and induce the phoenix to take a long walk behind some dunes... Keegan raises an uneasy eyebrow at the sights around him. Did that woman just remove her veil? In public? And what is that priest doing up there? Blinking, he battles the disbelief and casts a rather uncomfortable glance in his older brother's direction. Roxana decides that Amipal is the person to be near. She regains her feet enough to reclaim her weight from the Agni-Haidar who was supporting it. Without a dose of the dust for a short while she is becoming acclimatised, and while she cannot walk in a precisely straight line she can do a passable impression. Why she has fixed her attention on Amipal is anyone's guess, but she is more concerned with return of bodily functions that keeping her mind together at the moment, so little things float free of control. Looking back at Keegan, "I told you to take the guards and Safiyyah and go. This place is a mess and the ritual has been destroyedi n any case." Sumai says to the smaller, younger Messala lord in his commanding tone of voice. He takes one guard with him and walks directly towards Faanshi without any further regard for this happening, "Faanshi, come here." he says again to teh small shudra in a firmer tone of voice, his eyes flickering again for a moment as he and his guardsman walk closer to the shudra. Shocking. Absolutly shocking. And.. the bird-woman does nothing to stop it. If anything, she leans a little into the touch, looking up at Niamh with a distinctly avian tilt to her head. Predatory, even. The face, however, seems a bit of a startling move and she stumbles, forestalling headlong sprawl on the sand by winding her hands into Niamh's robes. That done, the phoenix does a credible imitation of a fish, mouth gaping open under the mask and eyes wide. "Ah.. righ'." Nodding once more to his warlord, Keegan takes the hand of Safiyyah, and with the company of five armed guards, begins his trek back to Atesh-Gah. Something is indeed amiss here, and black eyes flicker from side to side to determine just what it is before leaving. Thalia stops moving the minute Amipal lets go of her arm. She starts on a new diatribe. "And what is it with rotten tomatoes?" Obviously, the Queen-Mharani is experiences some free association within the confines of her brain. "Why can't people be inventive and throw diamonds or rubies? They'd make much better long range projectiles, being small and compact. And, glitter, they would certainly glitter in the air." The Agni-Haidar taking over Kaimakam Amipal looks at Thalia in consternation for a moment as the procession grinds to a halt, but grabs her by the arm. The cavalcade once again churns into motion. Safiyyah seems about to protest again, but she allows Keegan to draw her away from the excitement with a resigned sigh, disappearing along with the rest of the Messala guard sent along as they head around a curve of the path back into Haven proper. Jerrod looks at Faanshi. "Dog." he barks. "Dog. You Go when your master calls, dog!" he says as if he hates the fact. Jerrod's chirpy announcement of his magics goes primarily unnoticed by Faanshi -- for the Warlord's abrupt shadow falling across her has far greater command upon her attention. Kosha gives Sumai a growl, for that matter, but it's a far less certain one... for Faanshi's gaze shoots up the full foot and a half to Sumai's dark visage. Her eyes go round, her gaze strange, and for a fraction of an instant she can be heard to croak, "L-Lyre?" Then she shakes her head violently, rubbing a hand across her eyes and stumbling in Sumai's direction, rasping pleadingly, "Imphadi... I... I am ill..." Niamh moves to help the winged one up, wrapping one arm about her waist so he can continue to support her. Leaning close he all but whispers, "Do you keep the mask on all the time, bright phoenix?" There is a hunger in those eyes that not even the glass of the spectacles can hide Perhaps that dust destroyed all of his inhibitions... Or perhaps he just needed a little shove in the right direction. Amipal is weaving back across the beach-- along with Roxana, although this seems not to be an issue-- when Sumai closes with the shudra. The Kaimakam drifts to a halt, casting a sidelong glance at his companion. "Messala has her," he observes, as comforted by the fact as he can reasonably be, under the circumstances. "We're finished here, Imphada." His dark gaze goes to the receeding formation of Atar's Lions. Thin fingers remain twined in Niamh's robes as if unable to loose themselves of their own will. The phoenix hesitates and then whispers back in much the same tone, trying to peer past the glass and into they eyes beyond, "We all wear masks o' one sort 'r another." "No, Faanshi, you are poisoned." Sumai says very simply as he reaches down to her and offers her the gauntlet of his hand and offers it to her, "Come with me and I will take you back to Atesh-Gah. I assume you dog will follow you whereever it is you go." teh Warlord's deep voice says to her as he watches those around him with a narrowed, angry gaze. The wicked, barbed panzerhand on his other hand flexing tightly as though he's ready to cave in someone's head for just the wrong word. Hell, he just might. He's not got the best reputation amongst candala anyway. Roxana has met Messala's Warlord herself, and doesn't doubt that Faanshi is fairly safe with him. "Let us follow the Maharani, then, Honoured Kaimakam, and be away from this place." With that, she turns and attempts to follow the Maharani's entourage, stagging in the soft sand. Thalia gives one last cheery wave to the crowd and shouts loudly, "Good night, everyone! Good night!" With that, her figure disappears behind a dune with the mass of black and crimson flowing after her like the incoming tide. Thalia walks down the winding path back to Haven. Thalia has left. Jerrod shakes his head and sits down, his violet eyes clearing a little as his magic tries to clear his system of the vile dust. Amipal settles a strong hand on Roxana's arm as she stumbles, keeping her from losing her footing on the shifting ground; moving at an easy pace-- now that his charge has cleared the area-- he escorts the Maharani's waiting-woman from the sands. Asadel stirs weakly from his position by the fire, getting up slowly he looks faintly ashamed, moving quickly to distance himself from the others Roxana is certainly not dawdling as she leans gratefully upon Amipal's arm. Whatever it is in the air, she knows that she needs to get out of there swiftly. Roxana walks down the winding path back to Haven. Roxana has left. Amipal walks down the winding path back to Haven. Amipal has left. Safiyyah walks down the winding path back to Haven. Safiyyah has left. Keegan walks down the winding path back to Haven. Keegan has left. Asadel walks down the winding path back to Haven. Asadel has left. Jerrod looks around in horror. What happened? Where are his sandels? Why is Estrel Niamh fooling around with a Empyrean-looking woman? Poisoned? Ushas... Faanshi swallows and then regrets it, for though her veil has saved her from inhaling a fair amount of the dust in the air, some of it clings to the blue silk nevertheless. The maiden's hand seizes Sumai's with rather more strength than she normally exhibits -- the sort of strength a drowning girl might use to grab onto a sturdy branch floating in a raging river. Around her, Kosha whines as he circles her and the big warrior, and the sound of his distress prompts the healer girl into mumbling as though from a great distance, "He will follow..." "Ahh, but masks must be removed some time or another." And as Niamh speaks, his free hand moved to divest the phoenix of hers. But his hand pauses as an inner switch seems to click over. Blinking rapidly, he then turns aside to sneeze...once...twice...three times. He is standing with a winged one...her fingers entwined in his clothes. Oh...if Varati skin shoed blushes, his would be very, very red. Carefully he tries to remove the gripping fingers, "I...Imph...Domina...ohhh Atar." Her hand clamps onto the steel gauntlet as he begins to tug her away from teh beach, much like a father might lead his daughter away from a group of school yard bullies. "Come." he says in a loud and powerful voice as he draws teh small shudra off teh sandy beach with him and allows the dog to follow at its own whim. The great sized Warlord watches for anyone who might get in his way as he prepares to mash some faces in a not so friendly manner that Warlords are notorious for in these parts. SOme times stereotypes are helpful. Sumai walks down the winding path back to Haven. Sumai has left. Disappointment wars with relief, and the phoenix manages to unwind her talons from the front of the Estrel's garments. She steps back and reaches up to slowly pull the mask off her head, leaving pale-white hair to tumble in loose curls around her shoulders and leaving the delicate points of her ears too visible standing up through the fine locks. Wordlessly, Grace pulls one long plume from the mask itself--clearly one of her own pinfeathers--and steps forward to tuck it into Niamh's hand. She pats his knuckles and then turns away to slip into the shadows without another thought, or another word. You walk down the winding path back to Haven. 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: Sumai Obvious exits: Beach Streets Kosha breaks into a trot, all too pleased to get away from the strange gathering upon the beach and keep his beloved Faanshi in sight. The big dog keeps up well with the Warlord, and indeed, it seems to be Faanshi having the greatest trouble walking. The maiden stumbles several times as Messala's Warlord hauls her along, her legs decidedly more unreliable than her hand at this point. Her magic still surges uncomfortably, bothered by the stuff that's gotten into her system, but the effort of keeping herself moving blurs her attention away from invoking her power to clear her head... and her head begins to feel as though it might topple from her slender shoulders at any moment. The rest of her feels strangely insubstantial, and only the solidity of the gauntleted hand she holds gives her enough focus to keep her going. Niamh walks down the winding path from the beach. Niamh has arrived. The bonfire is left to burn, guarded by two atarvani who weren't hit by the poweder as hard. Exhausted and in a very odd mood, the Estrel begins to make his way back to the Citadel, his stride once more straight and true even if he seems slightly discombobulated. After a few moments Sumai comes to a paused step, several hundred yards away from the beach and the worst of the ruined celebration on the beach. The huge Warlord's armor still glitters and the navy enamel casts off erie colors with what little light is available to reflect. His huge hand continues to hold Faanshi's hand like a father might hold a child's, "We can stop for a moment." the Warlord's huge voice says down to his current traveling companion as he looks down at her for a moment, "I don't think you're looking very well at the moment." he says in a detached and scientific sounding voice while he uses his hand to guide her along. When the Warlord and the shudra slow and stop, Kosha does as well. The dog's ears have flattened along his furry skull, and he promptly parks on his haunches at Faanshi's side, gazing up at her with limpid dark eyes. At any other time, the shudra maiden might stoically repress any pain or sense of illness, pulling it within herself to where her magic might deal with it. But not tonight. Perhaps the dust that seemed to steal the reason of those in the celebration has had at least some small impact upon her, for she admits humbly, "I... I... feel strange, Imphadi..." Her one hand is occupied, and she presses the other to her brow as if that alone is keeping her head where it belongs. Niamh pauses at seeing the Warlord and the shudra paused in the street. Should he move past them? Acknowledge them? Words from before the fog are called to mind and he cannot help but frown as he looks upon the Warlord. It is sometimes dangerous to get into discussions with the young Estrel...it is said his memory is infallable and that often times conversations are even written down for later perusal...or implication. Considering this a moment, "I know nothing of herbs or poisons, I can only say that you could, perhaps, use your power to reduce the damage that it may be doing to your system." Sumai's deep and powerful voice says to her as he turns his olive-brown eyes down on her as his lips frown slightly at the half-breed as he shakes his head, "It was some powder that I believe some sfiters were using, those cats acted a bit too bright to be simple animals. Or even well trained ones. I believe they were Sylvans... I believe I will soon discover who sent them as well." he comments with no undo amount of irritation in his voice, "Having ruined a perfectly good celebration to the Amir-al with their childish antics. Now... I will see what I can ruin of theirs." he growls faintly. His eyes turn and watch those on the street, people trickling to and from the beach and he looks at the Estrel with the same indifferent manner he looks at everyone. Sylvans? Sylvans tried to ruin a celebration of the Children of Fire? A surge of dismay brings Faanshi's gaze up -- significantly up, enough that if the Warlord were at all close to her own height rather than towering over her as he does, she might actually be looking him in the face. For a few moments, the simple fact that he is speaking freely to her feels bizarrely _good_, bizarrely pleasing... not unlike the guileless pleasure of speaking with someone who calls her friend.... _Do not be ridiculous,_ a more rational corner of her brain sternly chides her. _You are a shudra. A woman. A -halfbreed-! In the name of Ushas, foolish girl, he is a -Warlord-! You cannot equate him with Prying-Eagle or Raging-Spirit or--_ Oh dear. Prying-Eagle. RagingSpirit. QuickWing. Sylvans all, and her friends. Sumai would not hurt them, would he? The small hand in the Warlord's grasp begins to tremble, and Faanshi cannot entirely keep her worry out of her voice as she blurts, "Perhaps... I-I... should return to Atesh-Gah, Imphadi... if you wish to find the miscreants..." A strange wistful note in her soft little voice, though she does not dare utter this aloud, might be interpreted as a plea: 'don't hurt them'. Yet the Estrel's look is not indifferent as he catches the Warlord's words. "You will do nothing of the kind, Imphadi." He states, moving closer. "You will not create a political incident with the Sylvans of this city. I can assure you that they will be questioned about this, but it will be done by the Estrella and the Hounds. Not by Warlords. Do I make myself clear?" Perhaps he has had more time to get used to the power he now wields as Estrel...or the combined power of being Estrel and Nabi for he is no longer afraid to pull rank when he feels it is necessary. Shaking his head at Faanshi a little bit, "I will get you back to Atesh-Gah. It would be foolish to go about razing houses and tormenting innocents in an early fashion before I have enough facts to deal with the true culprits of the matter." he takes Faanshi's hand again and begins to lead her down teh street for a moment before Niamh comes storming in and trying to order him around. Sumai's guards immediately bring crossbows to bear on the man who comes walking to their lord uninvited and they know about little tricks that people with magic use and won't hesitate to fire their bolts into the man for a second. Sumai turns around and looks at Niamh, "It is none of your business, Imphadi. You have no power over me and I will do as I please. After the way you were gropping the Maharani on that beach I would say that you have little right to demand anything of a faithful servant of Atar. Poison or no, you are expected to act as a man and that includes not consorting with anotehr man's women. Let alone the Amir-al's." Stop. Start again. Stop again. This kind of erratic progress is not exactly easy upon one who is not entirely certain of her ability to hold her attention together -- much less exert enough control over her magic to burn the strangeness out of her limbs, the weight out of her head. Or walk all the way back to Atesh-Gah. But Faanshi does not complain. The only sound she utters, as the priest calls out to her current companion and the small snicks of levelled weapons pierce through her haze, is a strangled little squeak. Kosha for his part half-growls, half-whines, and nudges anxiously at the maiden's side to try to keep her moving, to get her back to somewhere safe and quiet. Niamh closes his eyes once, taking in a deep breath. That's what happened? Well, it will have to be chalked up to that dust or whatever. His eyes open slowly but seem to hold a fire of their own even though his voice is even. But it is low...too low to be even considered cordial. "Faithful servant...do you always practice in hypocrasy? I remember your words on the beach, Imphadi...and you will be called to answer for them." His eyes then slowly take in the guards aiming their crossbow bolts at him. "You do not know how close to treason you are, Imphadi, to threaten an Atarvani. Be prepared to answer for your behavior before the Amir-Al himself." And he will say no more to the man. A nod is given to Faanshi as he sweeps his way past the two, his haik billowing in his wake. Holding Faanshi carefully he pauses fully and allows her to rest a moment, "Careful not to fall." he says in a deep and rumbling voice, neutral and indifferent. "It is you who jump to conclusions, Niamh. Merely because you did not see me place something to the fire does not mean my clan did not sacrifice, my brother asked for the honor and I bestowed it upon him." Sumai says to the man's back and shrugs his huge shoulders upwards in a neutral manner as he watches the man go, "I would kill any man who thinks to threaten me with acusations, you included. Atarvani or not. You may have the Amir-al call me any time you desire to, I will do what I please. That is the right of a Warlord. We lead." he says and lets the priest go. You journey north toward the western edge of Main street. West Main - Haven The very western edge of the city of Haven is notoriously less remarkable to the eye than the eastern vicinities. This end of the main drag sees little traffic, for naught lies beyond the gates but uncivilized forest. Rickety wooden edifices become prevalent over safer stonemasons' constructions, and the majority of the traffic moves via foot, rather than wheel or hoof. To the south one might catch a glimpse--or whiff--of the sea. The prospects east and northeast seem a bit more appealing, their roads lined with arbors and occasionally maintained shrubbery. The city gates loom to the west, but it is dark and quiet there, seldom approached and tended by only a pair of idle guards. Obvious exits: Freehold Streets Gate Garden Archway Sumai journeys in from the western edge of Seaside to the south. Sumai has arrived. As the Messala Warlord and guards part ways with the Nabi, Faanshi fixes her gaze upon her feet -- but this time, rather out of embarrassment or shyness, it is due to the simple need to make absolutely certain she knows where her feet actually _are_. Right. Left. Right. Left. She will walk, and she will not fall. Anything else is not an option. Faanshi remembers crying before this man, and the thought of disgracing herself before him again strikes a note of unease in the midst of the fog tugging at her senses. "I... will be careful, Imphadi," she murmurs absently. Her gaze is not unfocused; rather, it begins to take on almost too sharp a focus, as though the attention she now must spend upon her surroundings is more important than anything else in the world. "I cannot disgrace myself before you again... I... cried. Forgive me...!" Where did _that_ come from? He listens to your words and pauses for a few moments to to think to himself about this, though he doesn't stop walking with you at a slower pace. He is careful not to pull to hard or squeeze your hand too much in his gauntleted hand. "i will let you walk if you want to Faanshi, but I must comment that it would be easier if you allowed me to simply carry you there. I understand teh needs of pride." the man says to you with a slight shake of his bullish head, his thoughts really elsewhere at the moment. "You are not a disgrace and I find no distaste in your moment of weakness, such is allowed for women from time to time." Orson journeys in from Fairway Corner to the northeast. Orson has arrived. To this, Faanshi simply seems to... stop, bemused. A second passes. Two. And then in a strange, distant voice, the maiden asks of Sumai, "It does... not offend you, to touch me?" There isn't so much shame in her tone as pure confusion, bafflement that the Warlord would not only take her hand, but carry her if she is ill. Orson meanders down the street, whistling slightly. Orson stops walking down the street a bit down the way, and hides in a shadow, his dark clothes quickly hiding him from sight. A frown crosses his face. Sumai he recongizes, but the lady... The few guards that still travel with Sumai are observant, especially in this part of town and not at all happy with with the peopel that are nearby . Sumai looks at Faanshi, "No, not in the least. Its not as though I'm making overtures of love to you, Faanshi. Merely touching you harms me in no way, unless you start doing something that causes pain... in which case I would probably drop you and kill you... but I don't think that is something you would do." he comments to her as he purses his lips together, "Its entirely your decision, as I said. I understand." Orson brightens with the mention of the lady's name. He'd snap his fingers, if it wouldn't give away his position. He has heard of her, just never seen her face. The lady, apparently, seems to be ill somehow. One of the maiden's hands is carried briskly in the big gauntleted ones of the Warlord, and she has the other pressed to her brow -- but as Sumai rumbles his reply, Faanshi startles visibly at his particular choice of words. Then, hoarsely, humbly, she breathes, "I... will accept your aid, Imphadi, with gratitude... I feel... too strange...!" Kosha, at her side, yips gruffly and looks back and forth from the girl to the massive warrior and back again. His huge hand releases hers, tiny in comparison to his though it may be the woman still have Varati blood in here and her hand likely nearly as large a the smaller and more delicate race's male's hand is. After releasing her hand Sumai steps behind her a little and wraps an arm around her waist and hefts her up like one would lift a small child, aside from the fact that she's a full grown woman of upper five feet feet in height. After scooping her up he places a thick forearm behind her knees and the otehr roughly equal to her shoulder blades on her back. He is not ungentle with her, but niether does he treat her like fragile glass. "You are welcome. While I walk, focus your power on trying to purify yourself of the stuff." his rumbling voice says to the much smaller half-breed. Orson, unable to hear the conversation from his distance, sees only that Faanshi looks weak, and now is being carried by a noted Varati Warlord. He frowns, reaches a decision, and steps out of the shadows, no longer straight back and whistling, but now hunched over and shuffling. He makes his way slowly to the two of them, keeping his hands in sight, and away from his knife in deference to the guards. He hangs back, trying to stay out of range of the guard's weapons, but gets to withint hailing distance. "If it's pelases you, master, I have a message for the lady," he whines, trying to look insignificant. If the guards accompanying the Warlord are surprised to see him take a halfbreed maiden up into his powerful arms, they don't appear to be letting on -- and Faanshi certainly isn't trying to look. Nor does she seem to be entirely aware of Orson's approach, for as Sumai has advised her, she's tried to divert her attention towards calling up her magic to clear her system of the stuff she's inhaled. Kosha, however, does whine again, wanting Faanshi to be somewhere safe now, and she's Not! Getting! There! Whine! Orson merely stands there, lookign increasingly nervous. Looking across the small, thin body that now covers much of his chest Sumai looks at the mongrel who 'challenges' his path. The huge Warlord says in a deep voice, commanding and firm in an unforgiving manner while he watches Orson quietly and finally says, "Funny. You don't look like a Varati. Those clothes certainly aren't Varati. If you are a mugger or a rapist, you've made quite the poor choice of targets. I'll give you about three seconds to walk away before my guards start filling you with sharp, pointy things." he says in a non nonsense tone of voice as he holds the small shudra in his tree thick arms. Each one easily the size as an Empyrean's leg. Orson privatly thinks, 'Bloody hell,' but publically says, "Please, sir, don't hurt me. I was ordered to deliver a message to the lady. I found her, sir, by asking several of my friends who keep work for wagoneers, and they said they saw her around here. I'm merely doing my job, sir." he shuffles to ne side, lgetting out of the group's way, but still trying to press his point. Pausing a moment he considers, perhaps the message is important, so he then says, "Speak your message now." Sumai says simply as he holds the shudra against his broad chest, easily as broad as he torso is long. "She will listen as well as she can and that is all I can say. She is ill and I am taking her back to her place of rest. Start speaking, finish by the time I stop counting or you will not be a happy man." he says with no hint of malice, just blunt fact. Lady? What lady? Faanshi stirs vaguely in Sumai's powerful grasp. Now that she is off her feet, lightheadedness sweeps over her more readily; it would be very easy to let herself just sleep for a while, maybe dream, when she is carried so securely. But no. She needs to use her magic... no. She needs to listen? Her head turns against the massive arm that supports it, and a pair of troubled green eyes peer more or less in Orson's direction while Kosha paces fretfully back and forth. Orson shrivels even mroe into himself. "I cannot give the message a loud, sir. Perhaps if I went with you, I could give it when the Lady is better capable to hear it?" "One." the huge voice begins and the guardsmen raise their crossbows to take aim at you with deadly keen eyes of men practiced in shooting down moving prey in the heat of battle. Sumai doesn't seem to mind that they'll be killing you in, effectively, cold blood. The Warlord himself continues to hold the ill shdura in his arms without a second thought as to what's going to happen. Orson seemingly gives in. "AS you wish, sir. I shall catch the lady at another time perhaps?" He retreats, shuffling into another shadow, out of sight. You depart this curiously ramshackle fringe of town and brace the start of the town garden. Garden Archway - Old City Garden - Haven The occasional foliage that lines the streets of Haven grows more expansive here, trees looming higher as one approaches the town garden. The road continuing east seems little more than a ruined path, the cobbles having been long since warped and broken by the bulge of tree roots beneath them. Crumbling stone benches are occasionally occupied by the elderly in a state of repose, quietly murmuring couples, or even trodden upon by children at play. A massive arch of stone marks the entrance to the garden proper; its detailed engravings have either crumbled away or have been concealed by the growth of vines and ivy--a subtle triumph of nature over the man-made structure. Obvious exits: Streets Town Garden Orson arrives from the eastern end of the main drag. Orson has arrived. Sumai arrives from the eastern end of the main drag. Sumai has arrived. Orson follows the group, flitting from shadow to shadow unobtrusively. Orson departs the vicinity, following the road west. Orson has left. Passing beneath the arch, you move on into the thick of the heavily wooded park. 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: Shalestra Salmalin Obvious exits: Streets Garden Archway Sumai arrives from the shady path to the west. Sumai has arrived. The Varati have had quite the night, tonight -- rumors are already shooting around the city of Sylvan-caused disruption of their Invoking the Flame ritual upon the beach. Several Varati have been seen apparently beside themselves, and a good number more have been seen with uncharacteristically grim countenances even for their own stone-faced reputations. The party that comes striding through the garden at this hour most assuredly falls into the latter category, headed up as they are by the massive Messala Warlord, notable not only by his size but by the crumpled figure he's carrying in his arms. Sumai and the guards in navy and silver that flank him proceed through the night now as if two seconds away from breaking anyone and anything in their path... but fortunately, for the moment, their path is clear. And soon enough they are gone. [And soon...] You open the lion-emblazoned door, and step through. Messala Suite - Atesh-Gah - Haven(#1895RAJh) A spacious suite, set aside for visitors from Clan Messala. It is decorated in the clan colors, silver and navy, with the walls decorated with Messala's symbol, a rampant Lion. The parlor and lounge leads out to the main complex of Atesh-Gah. The seating, surrounding a fireplace, consists of a long navy couch, and two chairs trimmed in silver. A dining area sits to one side of the fire, a small table with seating for four, and an equally small kitchen is situated just off from this. The room is divided by a thick, rich drapery, behind which lie the resting area for servants and concubines. Cushions and divans are provided for the servants' resting when they are not serving their superiors. A small door leads into the master bedroom, where the the most pre-eminent guest sleeps. It has a fireplace of its own, and two large, stuffed chairs before it. The bed is canopied, done up in silver and blue, with drapes about it for privacy. Contents: Sumai Obvious exits: Sumai's Lair Out Once the obsequious Mongrel finally vanishes again into the night, the way is clear for the Warlord and his guards to proceed unhindered, at last, back to the Varati citadel -- and at a much greater pace than young Faanshi seemed capable of producing, on her feet. But off her feet, the maiden finds her world shifting to an odd melding of dark and shadow and the sense of floating while bolstered up by arms as strong as trees. Aether ripples through her, but seems oddly elusive to her command for once, and the effort of trying to bend it to her will only serves to blur her senses further. By the time the Messala party reaches the refuge of Atesh-Gah at last, the girl seems almost asleep. The dog Kosha scampers along in the Messala men's wake, growing initially excited at Atesh-Gah's familiar gates -- but then whining unhappily as the Warlord carries his beloved mistress out of his reach. Forbidden to set foot inside the great entrance foyer, the hound is left to lie forlornly down out in the courtyard, willing to wait there with almost the same patient loyalty one of the Lions of Fire might display to the Amir-al. And thus, Faanshi enters the Messala Clan's chambers without her four-footed guardian. The Warlord and his gaurdsmen come in in their slow and tired procession, though he's carried your a good long distance he seems unhindered by your weight or burden. The clan hall is abuzz with his whereabouts and the massive mess up down on the beach, though many have gone to rest some are up and about and curious. The chitter stops when they see their Warlord walk in carrying a Khalida shudra girl in his arms. Sumai, however, doesn't seem to care what they have to say or what they want to do. "Draw some hot water in the shudra chambers, I will carry this woman in there so that she can be cleaned and cared for." that is, his shudra will bathe you. Not an uncommon thing for the Messala, as the shudra women often bathe each other as well as their mistresses. Some of the men also have their servants bathe them as well. His heavy footsteps make their way into the suite. Voices. Kosha's unhappy whine, blocked out by the ponderous thud of the doors of the entrance foyer hauled shut by the sentries that keep watch in the courtyard at night. Then the familiar color schemes of Atesh-Gah's corridors... a fragment of the great mural of Ashur Masad... navy and silver of Messala? Faanshi stirs again. Where is she? "Imphadi?" she whispers, confused. These are not the Maharani's chambers. "Where--" He answers your questions, "My clan hall. I am not allowed near the Maharani's chambers, likely they would kill me tonight if I even tried to go near them tonight, after what happened on the beach with her." his deep rumbling voice says to you, "I will have my servants bathe you and clean your clothing tonight, you can sleep with my shudra." he explains to you in his no nonsense voice, deep and rumbling. Every time his words come out you can feel the deep reverberation in his chest vibrating your own, "There will be no men present, not even myself, only my shudra. Your honor will be unharmed in that respect." he assures. What has she done, to deserve such treatment? Even as she is borne peremptorily into the shudra rooms, Faanshi reels under the impact of those rumbling words. Never mind what the Sylvan dust did to her; it's almost inconsequential, as she struggles to assimilate such a show of kindness from a kshatri Clan to which she does not even belong. Part of her wants to protest that she is not worthy, and she attempts to say so. But what comes out is something entirely different, almost childlike, awed. "I did not believe a Warlord could be... kind," she breathes, half to herself. "The surahs shine in you, Imphadi...!" Well, perhaps the Sylvan dust has done something after all. Surely she'd never have dared to say _that_, without the stuff having gotten into her system? "Men who don't have some manner of kindness in them deserve to be dead. I pray that I do not deserve death just yet, regardless of what some people think." Sumai says as he walks in the shudra female's quarters, many of whom have rapidly dressed in what minimal clothing they can get on in such short notice. Many timidly hide from the Warlord and blush as furiously as you ever have that he has come into their chamber. Laying you down next to the bathing pool he looks at what you can only assume is his 'chief of shudra women', for lack of a better term, and says, "Make sure she is as comfortable as you can make her." he says and stands up, "Sleep well Faanshi, your clothing will be ready for you when you wake in the morning." he says as he leaves the room. "Yes, Imphadi, at once...!" "As you command, Imphadi..." Soft murmurs of obeisance are the Warlord's reaction even as the startled shudra women of Messala turn to the dazed maiden their Warlord has deposited into their midst. Who _is_ she? "She is Khalida--" "It's the halfbreed, isn't it? She isn't _of_ Khalida, she only serves them--" "The Imphadi bids us succor her, Afarya, hush. Her sari, now." More voices, soft ones this time, feminine. Faanshi turns her gaze bemusedly back and forth as the voices surround her, and for the first time in a very long time, the halfbreed maiden lets her eyes close in contentment. Such soft, soothing voices. They can lull her, right into... Sleep. [End log.]