"Hair of the Dog" Log Date: 7/21/99 Log Cast: Faanshi, Maat Log Intro: Not much time at all has passed since Faanshi has had to return sooner than expected from her sojourn among the Mongrels striving to settle the fledgling nation of Avalon. But it has been a time full of the start of small but profound changes to the life of the young shudra healer--ones which have led her to be brave enough to begin to venture out into the city to try to find those who may let a lowly one such as she aid them with the power that has been given her. The trick has been thus far how to do it without rousing the attention of Delphi--but when it comes to the attention of those of the Varati race, it's another matter entirely.... *===========================< In Character Time >==========================* Time of day: Evening Date on Aether: Friday, December 26, 3904. Year on Earth: 1504 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waxing Gibbous Season: Winter Weather: Partly Cloudy Temperature: Chilly *==========================================================================* At last, the rain has let up. That, at any rate, is something of a relief, as it insures that Faanshi and her loyal dog remain dry as she slips out of Atesh-Gah come the evening. Well, at least mostly dry. Kosha might be a fairly well-trained dog, but he still smells of wet fur even after having had a dry corner to himself for a few hours. If it is not coming, then it is going. Maat would seem to be a woman that is hard to miss. Even as Faanshi departs Atesh-Gah, Maat is making for the gate. Her path and that of the shudra will most certainly cause a collision. Well, 'hard to miss' means, after all, 'hard to miss' -- even for a shudra girl who, habitually, keeps her gaze averted from those who custom and society deem her betters. Kosha's yip gives her a fraction of a second of warning, and it is just enough for the girl to throw herself sideways into the nearest wall in order to get out of the way of the passing woman. Maat says amusedly to Faanshi as she passes by, "You'll crack your head against the brick and your brains will dribble out your ears." At least she sounds amused until she starts to sneeze. Snit, snit, snit. Faanshi did not, as it happens, whack her head into the wall; slender golden hands had flown up to catch herself against the brick, for the shudra is not without dexterity. Addressed, she turns then to Maat, her head politely bowed as she murmurs, "I did not wish to block your passage, imphada..." Then she pauses, ears caught by those small sneezes, risking a fleeting peek from over her veil before her gaze dips swiftly down again. "Atar bless you," she appends automatically at the snit-sounds. Maat continues to sneeze without abatement. Snit, snit, snit. It is good that their is a veil covering her face, else she would be spraying Faanshi with unmentionable fluids. During the olfactory rampage, she rages a hand under her veil and rubs at her nose, the motion seen as the veil waves back and forth, displaying that Maat's chin is a pale as her hands. Kosha, lingering at Faanshi's feet, lets out a small uncertain whurf; equally uncertain by this, the shudra halfbreed peers with unaccustomed bravery at the ailing woman, at least as long as she is obviously distracted with the sneezing fit. "Forgive my temerity, imphada," she ventures then, even as magic that had swirled up into life only this past morning to heal a sickness snaps into life at what is now before it, "but... do you... require assistance....?" Her voice remains soft and respectful, though it takes on ever so slight a tremor as she clenches her hands at her breast rather than touch the vaisya woman without leave. Maat might answer Faanshi, if she were capable, but alas, she cannot stop sneezing. Water is now running out of her eyes to weigh down the veil that is flapping about from Maat's uncontrolled exhalations. Ushas! Faanshi swallows hard behind her own veil, and then her shoulders square beneath her dark blue sari. She steps forward, offering an arm, and thus far managing to hide the way her pulse has stepped up with the roiling awake of the power within her. "Please... allow me to aid you inside, imphada," she breathes huskily, "to a warm place, where you may... rest." Maat allows Faanshi to help her inside as she is nigh helpless herself. She simply waddles after Faanshi with one hand attached to whatever part of Faanshi she can reach while she continues to sneeze. Yip? Kosha, who had been expecting to accompany his mistress out into the night, is a trifle confused at the abrupt turnabout... but well, he is a young puppy, and flexible. He skitters around to fall back into step at the shudra girl's side as she helps the woman in through the gates. Maat passes between the heavy stone pillars that flank the entrance to Atesh-Gah. Maat has left. You pass between the heavy stone pillars that flank the entrance to Atesh-Gah, and enter the famed embassy of the Varati people. Courtyard - Atesh-Gah - Haven(#430RJM) If indeed the Hebrew folk of lost Earth are correct in their legends, then this must be the legendary garden from which mankind was expelled. The flat expanse of the great courtyard of Atesh-Gah is covered in the most luxurious grass of bright emerald green, broken only by a cobblestone path for riding and walking to prevent wear upon the lawn. Rich copses of carefully tended wood grow by the walls, lovingly groomed flower gardens acting as a barrier of colour before the rising trees. Perhaps even more relaxing than the sight of the yard are the sensations of it. The lovely scents of flower and tree; honey-suckle, apple blossom, peach, and jasmine; combine with the soft cushion of green grass to provide a sense of peace and harmony that defies the looming sand-hued walls of unbreakable stone. Not even the shadowed maw of the main gate, nor the blocky, unimpressive presence of the impenetrable main keep can overshadow the beauty of this place. Indeed, the stark contrast serves only to enhance it. Contents: Maat Obvious exits: Fountain Out Entrance Foyer Stables Maat manages to stumble after Faanshi in her sneezing haze without kicking Kosha, but this is a fair miracle of dexterity. She simply allows the shudra to lead her where she will. You ascend the stairs into Atesh-Gah, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. Entrance Foyer - Atesh-Gah - Haven The entranceway to Atesh-Gah is a marvel of Varati architecture and art; a half-dome rising from the earth to the heavens, appearing as if solid stone and seemingly made without reinforcing supports. It is but a shell of smooth, solid rock, made unbreakable by a combination of shaping and ingenuity. A long flight of stairs leads up toward the double doors of the throne room, while a smaller door down below and to the right leads to the back hallway. The massive space is acoustically sound, carrying each gurgle of crystal water from the central fountain throughout the entire room. Four couches of rich royal blue upholstery surround the fountain, providing a resting place for any who would wish to sit and speak; though the edge of the fountain itself may function in a similar fashion. Flecks and veins of bright gold streak through the pale marble of the walls, leading the eye ever up... until a breath-taking sight catches the eye. Above all else in the room stands Ashur Masad, the Lord of the ever-rising Sun, and father to Khalid Atar. Surrounding the glorious sun-lord is a vast mural of his son's accomplishments, a millenium and a half of legendary history. Obvious exits: Royal Wing Hallway Throne Room Out Maat passes through the grand double doors that lead out into the courtyard and joins you in the entrance foyer. Maat has arrived. _I can do this... I can do this... I can do this..._ In fact, she'd done something very like it only this very morning... and as far as Faanshi's power is concerned, there is very little difference between healing an ailing Mongrel boy and healing an ailing Clan Shakir... and Foreign Minister, temporary though the post might be. The shudra, however, is not quite so sure about this as her magic, and she clamps down hard upon the power threatening to overwhelm her senses if she doesn't allow it to do what it is sensing needs to be done. As she guides the Shakir into the mighty entrance foyer, though, an ember of quiet determination that sprang into being within her somewhere between Arcillium and Haven's gates whispers subtle counsel to her heart. She allows a glimmer of aether to trickle out through the palm she rests upon the shoulder of the Shakir, enough to give the woman back her breath, and never mind the drain to her own strength. "Your quarters, imphada," she murmurs, not bothering to hide the rasp creeping into her otherwise soft and gentle tone, her diction taking on a firmness she would ordinarily never dare to use to such a lofty personage as this. "Shall I take you there?" Maat catches her breath for a brief moment and manages to say, "The Clan Suite would be very nice," but then the alien tickle which originally sent her into paroxysms returns to her nose as she inhales. Snit, snit, snit. She stumbles toward the stairs, for some reason trusting that Faanshi will see her safely up them. Maat leaves the foyer, ascending the stairs toward the hallway. Maat has left. You ascend the long stairs, leading toward the Hallway above. Hallway - Atesh-Gah - Haven(#1148RLn) Following the same design as the rest of Atesh-Gah, the long hallway is done in shades of polished white, delicate gold, and ethereal sky-blue. Here and there doors dot the otherwise unblemished magnificence of the simple design; each one leading to the room of some important personage in Atesh-Gah's roster. A long flight of stairs at the beginning of the hall leads down to the Foyer, though a balcony at the landing atop the climb allows for a magnificent view of the courtyard. Obvious exits: West Wing Suites Barracks Entrance Foyer Passing through the door is like passing into paradise, leaving behind the mundane world and entering one where luxury and opulance are the primary goals. The gracious public room of the clan greets you with open arms once you have passed within. Al'Samar Retail Showroom - Atesh-Gah - Haven(#2121RAJn) Marble, alabaster, quartz and granite form the base of this room. Intricately carved and scuplted stone forms both furniture and statuary in a plethora of styles. Overlaid atop the stone are embroidered silks or intricately woven jacquards, to name a few types, all with the distinctive style of Al' Samar. Not merely ornamental, the decorations form fully functional furniture that meld into an elegant style of opulence and comfort. The walls are covered with tapestries, to soften the harsh stone of Atesh-Gah's basic building block; each wall-hanging depicts a legend or religious tale with exquisite detail, enough for hours of viewing. In the center of the room, a marble table inlaid with colored pieces of wood forms the center of a conversation group. Below the table lays carefully raked sand, while around it are a multifarious cushions in a wide array of colors; each has a unique and individual design. Extending ever outward, a wide sea of seating circles the nexus. The cushions separate to form paths and avenues; when seen from above, these mimic the geometric pattern inlaid on the table. Framed by marble statuary, a set of oaken double doors leads deeper into the suite of rooms while another set of double doors allows egress into the hallway. Contents: Maat Obvious exits: Draped Archway Oak Doors Hallway Maat Swathed from head to toe in layers of thick, protective cloth, the figure is slender enough to give the impression of femininity. Cloth circles the head, winding about in turban-esque fashion to only allow a pair of golden eyes to be visible. Hands emerge from within the folds from time to time, displaying a tasteful array of gems and exquisitely crafted jewelry on well-protected flesh; the color of creamy coffee, the sun has only rarely kissed these hands. All shape of the body lies hidden beneath the folds, revealing only a hint of curves and ankles to tease the viewer's perception. Yet, the despite the limited view of the person hidden by the cumbersome garments, the precise carriage and sure movements provide clues toward an authoritative person used to holding the reins of command. Peach cloth wraps around a brass cap, covering it entirely except for the small spike at the very pinnacle. Thick, opaque peach cloth hangs from the cap to just above the shoulders on three sides like flat curtains, hiding all but the face from view. The headdress seats itself low on the forehead while a facial veil composed of the same material as the cloth hanging from the sides of the helmet covers the nose and mouth. The end result is a face where only the eyes and brows are visible. A long robe with voluminous sleeves flows over the body, cinched at the waste by a sash of metallic brass cloth. On the upper arms, the cloth is brought close to the body by a spiral brass armband with a sphinx head at its tip. The robe splits over the legs to reveal large, balloon-like pants that hide all shape. The pants collapse downwards to cover the flat, thonged sandals like an Emperor penguin's belly plopped over his egg. Yet, when the legs lift, it can be seen that the pants are tightly wrapped about the ankles. Carrying: Maat A rasped order to the puppy has determined that Kosha will remain in the hallway; the pup doesn't like that much, but he resignedly lies down on the floor out in the corridor nevertheless, prepared to wait until his young mistress finishes her self-appointed errand. And Faanshi, aware that sweat has begun to bead her brow as she assists the older, taller woman into the rooms which are the domain of her Clan, nevertheless makes herself keep going. Only once before had she been permitted to cross into such a place, and while these are not quite the chambers of the Amir-al, still, the finery here is more than enough to strike awe into the heart of a simple shudra. But she does not allow herself to think about any of the grand objects that surround her. Instead, Faanshi stoically keeps her attention upon the need at hand, and upon finding the nearest piece of furniture onto which she might help the Shakir so that she might recline or sit as she wishes. Faanshi cares not which, as long as she can get Nefer Maat off her feet. Maat collapses onto the nearest cushion. Obviously, finery has no effect on her and she cares not if she soils the embroidery with her bodily fluids which are insisting on seeping out of her eyes and nose. However, once the door has shut on the resigned Kosha, Maat's nasal seizures slowly abate and soon, she can speak once again, though she is now a mess. Shudra do not, as a rule, possess much. Faanshi is no exception. But she does possess a handkerchief, a simple square of cloth kept diligently clean along with her garments, in an unspoken exercise of the surah of Pride. With some reluctance -- for her magic does not appreciate her breaking contact with the sick woman -- Faanshi helps her down and then pulls away enough to produce and offer that aforementioned kerchief, her posture and gaze reverting to that of the servant, head bowed. Her hand subtly trembles as she offers it, but her voice remains steady enough as she murmurs, "Take this, Imphada Shakir. If you wish it, I can bring you chai or kaffe..." Then, and only then, she pauses before concluding huskily, "If you permit it... I can... help you." Maat nods to Faanshi. Taking the kerchief, she blows her nose upon it, leaving a clear fluid behind that is most sticky and gelatinous. Once this action is completed, Maat reaches up and removes her besmeared veil, now almost completely sodden. The veil gone, a slightly aged face is revealed, the skin a light coffee with far too much cream. The face is not notable nor beautiful, it has far too much strength to be considered anything but powerful and it is currently covered with the remains of Maat's attack. "I do not believe I will need a drink, Shudra Faanshi." As it becomes apparent that the Shakir is exerting the strength of will to either suppress or ignore (or do both to) the ailment that plagues her, Faanshi swallows hard and settles her hands in her lap. Keeping the kneeling position she's taken up by the cushion, she peeks up briefly over her veil, but she does not lift her head. "As you... wish, imphada," she murmurs, unable to hide the breath she has to pull in between words as she forcibly keeps her hands where they are and shoves her power into the back of her consciousness. A few hints of sweat still gleam on her brow. Maat does not improve, but neither does she lapse back into the unceasing chain of sneezing which plaqued during the entirety of her trip into Atesh-Gah. Instead, she uses the corners of Faanshi's kerchief to clean the worst of the damages off her face. "What did you wish to do for me, Shudra Faanshi?" For a few moments, Faanshi's mind is blank with shock. All she can think is, _She doesn't know?_ Immediately on the heels of that comes a bemused _Evidently not_, and a surge of nervousness, through which the young halfbreed has to fight before she can manage to murmur, "You are... ill, imphada. I can... heal you, if you permit me..." She's told this very secret to several total strangers in the streets of Haven; why then is it so unnerving to be saying this to the Shakir of a Clan of what are in theory her own people? Maat wrinkles her nose and inhales. "I don't feel ill. At least not anymore." She does not seem particularly bothered by Faanshi's admission, but then she is not exactly inviting Faanshi to heal her either. She holds out the kerchief with its various fluids. "However, if you are trained, you may try to cure me of my non-existent ailment." Faanshi's green eyes close, and her hands go white-knuckled for a few heartbeats during which all she can think of is _You are -ill-, imphada, I can sense it, it is not so serious at what plagued poor Tybio but you are still -ill-_... a shudra, however, does not contradict a Shakir. It is simply Not Done. She swallows hard, aware from her small store of experience that she is going to pay for this later, but that is currently of no consequence. "I have... no formal training," she whispers, her voice strained, but delivering the truth without hesitation. A short sentence, but she'll marshall her fluctating strength for further explanation only if Maat requests it. Maat frowns now. "You should be trained. Without training, you are a danger not only to yourself but to others as well." Except for want of a bowl of water to repair the damages to her face, Maat is actually looking better with each passing minute. Whatever illness plaqued the woman, it seems to have fled as quickly as it arrived. Sullenly, almost suspiciously, the roil of power in Faanshi's system drains down to a faint queasy rumble in her belly. And the young shudra, certain she'll be feeling the aftereffects of her unsatisfied power soon enough, steels herself to simply get through it, breathing in, breathing out, deep soft breaths. "That is... true, Imphada Shakir," she acknowledges humbly, "but thus far... the Amir-al has not revealed unto me his will concerning from whom I should seek training." We shall not go into the issue that the first two choices of the Khalid's are nowhere near Faanshi at the moment, and that she has yet to meet an Atarvani or Ushashti who will touch training a halfbreed with a ten-foot-pole, either. As she speaks and her power grudgingly silences, her voice gains a few measures of strength. "In accordance with the ninth surah... I have... sought to train myself... and thus far... Ushas has smiled upon me." When certain bodily fluids dry, they become a nice, shiny crust. All over Maat's lower face this is occuring and she is developing a rather lizard-like appearance. "It is hard for the Amir-al to make his will known when he is far away." She takes a deep breath. "However, I am feeling much better so you need not stay any longer. I am sure you wish to go gadding about with your dog." Faanshi is kneeling, so she cannot exactly curtsey; thus, she settles for dipping her respectfully tilted head a little farther forward in as much of a bow as she can execute while on her knees. "As you wish, imphada," she murmurs, retrieving the kerchief she had proferred, and rising to her feet. Maat waves to Faanshi, indicating for her to head out the door, but of course, once the door is open, it not a second before Maat starts to sneeze again. Snit, snit, snit. The sound is becoming quite repetitive. If she has noticed the remnants of Maat's prior attack upon her visage, Faanshi certainly has given no sign of it. Like unto contradicting a Shakir, a shudra simply Does Not, under any circumstances, show any sign of awareness when one of higher rank looks anything less than dignified. As she is bidden to depart, she does so... but her ears catch the sound of that sneezing, and her power, in a surge of _a-ha! Knew it!_ churns in her belly, vindictively hinting that if it can't be allowed to heal the Shakir it is by gods going to play havoc with _her_. But of this, however, Faanshi also gives no sign. "Summon me if... there is any further aid I can provide, imphada," she manages to gasp, before her restless magic makes it impossible for her to take her leave. In moments, she is gone. [End log.]