"War's End, Worry's Beginning"

Log Date:
	2/12/99

Log Cast:
	Kiera, Kalypso, Valerius (NPC emitted by Kalypso), Faanshi, Leonidas

Log Intro:
	There can be no doubt in anyone's minds: the feat of majestic
destructive power carried out by Khalid Atar at Lycenae has turned the tide
of the war between the Children of Fire and the Children of Air. The great
armies of the Amir-al have settled into place for the time being in Empyrean
lands while envoys of the Empyrean people come to negotiate with the God-King
for terms of peace.
	But it has been a long war, and for one particular old Ushasti 
priestess, it has been a hard winter march through a foreign land. Ulima
Jaroun Sarazen and her young kinswoman Faanshi might be under the protection
of Clan Khalida now, but Faanshi _is_ only a shudra. And though she herself
is kshatri and Shishya and perhaps entitled to greater comfort if she chose
to request it, Ulima does not choose to request it. Quietly she attends her
own needs within the small tent she shares with her young kinswoman, smiling
tiredly each time Faanshi worriedly inquires after her health and promising
the girl that there is nothing wrong with her.
	For Faanshi, this really isn't all that assuring... for even though
she _is_ now under the protection of the Amir-al's own Clan, even if she has
made a friend of a _halfbreed_ who has the God-King's own favor, Ulima is
the woman who raised her and to whom Faanshi looks as a mother. She cannot
help but be worried about the old woman's fragile state, even as the Varati
seem to be drawing their war at last to a close....

----------
Every movement is watched, with exceptional attentiveness. Kiera's brown eyes 
  flick from the one Empyrean to the other, then settle upon she who moves 
  more. Then that gaze takes in details. The hair. The wings. The way this 
  woman leans forward and the way she moves. Kiera has not, but remains still, 
  other than the mantling of her wings.
Kiera stands by a fire, which Kalypso and Valerius have just approached. It's 
  the barest few moments after sunset, or our friend Kiera would be quite 
  asleep.

Kalypso's hands are reenveloped in her cloak again, as she turns away from the 
  flames. She is, as usual, composed in manner, but her features are drawn, 
  lines formed about her eyes, pale circles under them. A brief tilt of her 
  head is directed towards the griffins in the pen as she takes a step towards 
  Valerius. "We should send word to Leto, as well, and make sure he has a 
  chance to look at the cut on Ariel's foreleg. I would trust that they 
  should've arrived in Civitas, by now."

Though the weather is nice, still, her heart-mother has retired to bed early 
  with the coming of dusk... and Faanshi, emerging from the tiny tent she 
  shares with Ulima, frowns softly to herself as she steps out into the 
  twilight. Sunset time means that it is time to light her little bier and say 
  her nightly prayers to the Khalid, and on this particular even-time, the 
  young shudra who serves Kiera Khalida approaches her prayers with a mild 
  dismay in the green eyes that peek over the top of her veil.

Ah-hah. Faanshi is evidently enough to draw Kiera's attention from the 
  Empyreans and their conversation, whatever it is about. "Faanshi." Kiera's 
  voice is a light airy alto, one that rides just barely above the sound of 
  the slightly moving breeze. "I was hoping to see you tonight, before I 
  sleep." That might explain Kiera's presence here, in the near-dark, outside.

Valerius' fading voice is a soft rumble in reply, as he and Kalypso wander 
  towards the stakes that hold the three or four gryphons still remaining in 
  the camp. The beasts are restless, uncomfortable with their proximity to the 
  wyverns in the pens, but for the most part, they are well-behaved. Kalypso 
  is cautious, as she nears the small throng, moving even close enough to them 
  so that she may actually touch them. Valerius, however, is not so bold, and 
  remains a few paces back.

Green eyes swing in Kiera's direction, blinking; then, cradling her little 
  bier in her hands, Faanshi approaches the smaller halfbreed, bobbing her 
  head to her politely. "Good evening, imphada," she says softly.

Oh now they're going over to the gryphons. Kiera has to look at that, and she 
  shudders somewhat, drawing her wings back in against her back. "Good 
  evening, Faanshi. I wanted to ask you... Have you taught - or would you 
  teach - Murako the prayers that you speak to the Khalid-Atar? He should 
  learn these things." Belatedly, she addresses the woman to whom she speaks, 
  with her attention. "Are you OK?" That', quieter.

Kalypso disappears behind one of the large beasts, kneeling down as her hands 
  quickly run over the small gryphon's legs. It is obvious that this one is 
  still young, his wings still flecked with feathers of mottled brown. As Kaly 
  rises, her hands produce a small treat out of the folds of her robe, 
  offering it to the young creature before she continues towards the next. Her 
  brow is knit with consternation, all of the grypons among the group much too 
  sedate for her own liking. The lack of food and rest has taken its toll on 
  the wondrous beasts.

Once more, Faanshi bobs her sari-covered head, promising in her low, clear 
  voice, "I do not see much of Murako... at least not during the day... but I 
  can teach him the prayers that Ulima taught me..." She trails off, though, 
  at the mention of her heart-mother. And after a moment she says tinily, "I 
  am well, but I am... worried about Ulima, imphada."

"Ulima?" Kiera darts another look at the woman with the gryphons, as if she is 
  only waiting for one to rip her to shreds. And eat her. A sort of replay of 
  a scene that haunts Kiera's nights, sometimes. Then she's back to watching 
  Faanshi, "What is it that is wrong with Ulima?"

Faanshi's mouth is hidden by her veil, but still, the tiniest of sighs might 
  be heard from her if one listens closely enough. Her gaze falls down to the 
  ceramic bier she cradles in her palms, and she says very softly, "I... do 
  not know, but she has been very tired these last few days... she says that 
  it is only age, imphada, but we have all travelled such a very long way, and 
  the snows have not been gone long..."

The gryphons, however, do not even make a move to tear the young matriarch to 
  pieces. As Kalypso finishes her brief look-over of the second creature, it 
  is only too happy to take the small treat offered, before the creatures head 
  lowers in sleep. The first that she examined is the least somnolent of the 
  small group, the eyes of the raptor focusing on everything, and everyone, 
  about him. Almost as if he stands watch. Kalypso continues onto the next, 
  her voice a soft murmer as her hands begin running over the gryphon's wings.

Faanshi, as she speaks, catches hints of the small sounds of the gryphons not 
  far off across the camp. A glance is flicked sideways, curiosity is 
  manifested in green eyes... but most of the young shudra's attention remains 
  on her imphada and the matters at hand.

The imphada has no clue, really. "Can you tell with your magic, if she is 
  sick, Faanshi? And how old is Ulima? How old do the Varati live?" Kiera 
  doesn't ask the question that draws all those things together, and she does 
  notice the direction of Faanshi's wavering attention, "They are gryphons. 
  The mounts of Empyreans. And they come with, and will hopefully leave with, 
  the Empyreans who speak with the Khalid--Atar." Serious distaste, Kiera 
  holds for gryphons. Maybe even fear.

There is a subtle ripple of the blue silken stuff covering most of Faanshi's 
  features, as behind it she bites her lower lip. She watches Kiera for a 
  moment, bemused by what she senses in her winged mistress's voice, or 
  perhaps her expression, or perhaps something beneath them both. But her only 
  reply regarding the gryphons is a bob of her saried head; the reply she 
  voices is to the questions given. "Many decades... Varati live for many 
  decades, but Ulima is over seventy....!" A pause. And Faanshi's gaze falls 
  again, her grip tightening unconsciously on her little bier, as though it 
  were a talisman. "I am afraid to touch her," she whispers.

Kalypso spends even more time with the third of the gryphons she looks over. 
  It is an old female, easily the largest of the bunch. Gryphons of this age, 
  and size usually are not used much for the purposes of travelling, instead 
  used for breeding, or even released. But she is an old warrior gryphon, and 
  the scars of battle, some newer - some older, riddle her hide.

"Why?" Kiera asks, then blinks slowly, her features stiffening, than relaxing 
  in a yawn just barely suppressed. "Why are you afraid to touch her?" 
  Momentarily, the breezes that have washed this place with fresh air, chasing 
  away the smoke from so many fires, also stop. The yawn occurs, and she 
  shakes her head, half-smiling to Faanshi. "Nighttime."

Kiera stands near a fire, speaking with Faanshi. The sun has just set, and 
  activities in the camp are winding down. Over in the gryphon pens, Kalypso 
  examines each of the four remaining beasts, under the watchful gaze of 
  Valarius.

"If you need to sleep," Faanshi swiftly begins, more eager to see that Kiera's 
  needs are attended than to speak of her own shortcomings, "you need not stay 
  awake for me..."

Leonidas pushes his way out of a tent, then, and stretches his wings. It's a 
  reflexive motion, one that Kiera might recognize, but the majority of the 
  camp will not. The need to stretch is sometimes overwhelming, though he 
  apologizes to the man who is nearly smacked in the head by the gesture.

"No." Kiera shakes her head, then reaches to draw her fingers through her 
  hair, a rare 'human' like gesture. Then the flash of more white steals 
  Kiera's attention back to that Tent where the Empyreans have been staying, 
  and she watches Leonidas for a long few moments. Leonidas and his wings. 
  Faanshi might be further amused to see upon her Imphada's features a brief 
  flash of rather feral interest, that Kiera has worn once before, when 
  speaking of a man who, to Kiera's mind (or in Kiera's world), no longer 
  exists. Kiera licks her lips and again looks at Faanshi, tilting her head up 
  slightly to gaze directly at her, "Why is it that you are afraid to touch 
  Ulima, Faanshi?"

Hesitantly, not meeting Kiera's eyes, the taller girl answers, "I... do not 
  want to make her sicker..."

Even the wings of the old gryphon are examined by Kalypso, but she is careful 
  not to hurt the old creature. The task is difficult enough, considering the 
  faint light provided. It is enough, however, to distinguish between light 
  and dark, as blood stained feathers are easily found, and the beast has 
  enough of them. Valerius still stands paces away from the beast nearest to 
  him, well out of striking range, should one take a disliking to him. His 
  arms are folded in front of him as he waits, somewhat patiently.

Leonidas will pass, then, the fire, and the women in conversation, to head 
  toward the glimpse of white that must be either Kalypso or Valerian to the 
  Praetorian Legate. He does give both Kiera and Faanshi brief, if uncertain, 
  nods of acknowlegement, but then continues on.

Leonidas
Short-cut hair is richly golden, expressive eyes framed by long lashes of the 
  same golden hue are exactly that shade of blue that colors the sky on a 
  cloudless day, pure and breath-taking. High cheekbones, an aquiline nose and 
  squared jaw lend an aristocratic air to the man. Not thick but rather long 
  of build, his chest and shoulders nevertheless tend toward wide. His 
  gestures are precise, his words clear and crisp. Pristenely white wings fold 
  behind him, their tips nested against one another precisely. For all this, 
  the man himself is seldom known to smile.
The chiton he wears is dark red, cut to end just above the knee. The color, 
  however, is visible only in glimpses, layered as it is beneath armor. His 
  lorica is leather, sculpted to warriors' perfection, muscles carved in 
  precise definition. It is matched by a skirt of jointed leather plates, 
  hardened as much as they may be. The leather is dark in color, well-oiled. 
  Hardened leather makes up the greaves that protect the Praetorian's legs, 
  and supple leather the caesta that cover his hands. His baldric is draped 
  across his chest and fitted snugly about his waist, weighted at one side by 
  a sheathed gladius and at the other by a well-tended crossbow. His caligae 
  are dark brown, undecorated. A scar winds its way around his left upper arm.

Green eyes over a blue veil blink in startlement at the winged warrior in red. 
  Faanshi shyly averts her eyes, even as she hastily bobs her head at the 
  passing Empyrean envoy, visibly distracted from her conversation.

And Kiera, distracted as well, watches Leonidas pass and move away. Action 
  shot. Did she nod back to him? She did meet his eyes, and that shifto f her 
  wings may have been some odd Sylvan greeting.

Action shot, indeed. Leonidas crosses to the pen, resting a hand briefly on 
  Valerian's shoulder, then lets it fall. He clears his throat, and asks, "Is 
  everything all right, Dea Tritonides?"

Kalypso's touch is gentle, as she remains at the side of the old gryphon. More 
  than one of the treats passes through her fingers, down the gullet of the 
  beast, before Kalypso has finished. She still murmurs softly as she moves 
  onto the last of the tired creatures, her hands gently blending into the 
  white cap of feathers ringing his neck. Valerius turns, at the approach of 
  the Legate, a respectful bow of the man's head towards the other, but it is 
  he who replies, and not Kalypso. "She wished to take a break from the 
  wording of the treatise, Dominus."

Leonidas ahhs, and clasps his hands behind his back, beneath his wings. "If 
  there's anything I can do to help her, you'll offer my assistance I hope, 
  Valerius?"

Kalypso
     Tendrils of golden blonde hair cover the top of this young Empyrean's 
  head, the silky-fine locks ending just above her shoulders. Her face is 
  barely kissed by the sun, the soft golden tone of her skin making her seem 
  even younger, more fresh-faced. The aristocratic features of the girl's face 
  are contradictory; high, delicate cheekbones giving way to a strong, 
  squarish jaw. Wide-set eyes are reminiscent of the sky on a cloudy day, 
  fringed by long golden lashes that curl up at the ends. Pride emanates from 
  the youth, evident in the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her head. Her 
  slender figure is more streamlined now than ever before, lean muscles mixed 
  with feminine curves lending to movements that are fluid, yet graceful.
     Wings of the purest ivory extend from the girl's shoulderblades, a faint 
  sheen over the freshly cleaned feathers. Silver pinion feathers barely skim 
  the back of her calves, catching only the brightest glints of life, and 
  sending them away. A soft blue pelisse fastens around her shoulders, 
  fastened with some shiny silver buckles. The cloak is split in the back, 
  designed fit over wings. White rabbit fur lines the hood of the cloak, and 
  also rings the end of the sleeves. The fabric making the cloak is 
  lightweight but warm, and very soft. The pelisse is both functional and 
  feminine, not to mention flattering. The chiton hidden beneath the pelisse 
  appears to be ivory in color, while the unobtrusive shoes covering her feet 
  are a sedate navy blue. Affixed on the outside of the youth's cloak, near 
  her throat, is an exceedingly simple silver brooch, shaped in the fashion of 
  a grey owl. It is free of jewels, and anything but ostentatious, as if it 
  might belong to a household servant, rather than the Dea.

What was it that Kiera was saying? She drags her mind back to the present, 
  then looks up at Faanshi again. "You think you will hurt her? Will you hurt 
  her more, if you do touch her, or if you do not? And she is old; age is not 
  a disease, is it?"

So _those_ are Empyreans. Save for the dazzling hue of their wings, Faanshi 
  inwardly supposes that she cannot be really surprised that... oddly... they 
  remind her of the Khalid. Distracted anew, the shudra girl starts, and then 
  drags her attention back to her mistress. Her gaze falls again to her hands 
  and the little bier she still holds, as she nervously turns it about through 
  her golden fingers. "Age... is not a disease, imphada," she acknowledges 
  uneasily, "but... it's just that..."

Valerius' head bows, his cerulean gaze moving back to the Kalypso's slight 
  form. His voice rumbles again, though it is a quiet rumble. "She would do 
  good with some help, dominus. Even if she does not accept it." She is just 
  finishing looking over the last of the gryphons, and from what can be heard 
  of her soft voice, she appears to be discussing the weather with them. 
  Whether or not she actually is discussing things with them, the sound of her 
  voice is somewhat reassuring to the beasts, so she continues to speak. 
  Treats are offered again to each in turn, and gobbled up quickly by the 
  hungry creatures.

Leonidas nods agreeably to Valerius. "If something presents itself," he says, 
  "I'll help." Raising his voice, he suggests, "You should rest, Dea 
  Tritonides."

Kiera tries to think of something - anything - to say to Faanshi. Nothing 
  springs to mind, so she merely nods. "Perhaps you should take her to the 
  Atervani, Faanshi. They have healers. Skilled, who might better tell if she 
  is diseased, or if she only suffers from the years." Those words fall 
  quietly, before Kiera adds, to ensure that this actually happens, "Take her 
  there tommorow, in the morning, to see the healers. Take several of the Clan 
  guards with you." Even those two orders, decisions, are enough to cause 
  Kiera to drop into a momentary, awkward silence. As if she meant to stop 
  there, as if she has the authority (for sure!) to order around the clan 
  guards, Kiera then looks back over to see what the Empyreans and those 
  gryphons are up to, now.

A soft laugh replies to the words of the Legate, as Kalypso steps away from 
  the small group of gryphons towards the two men. "Rest is for the weary, 
  Dominus Thanatos, and I have no time for it. When I am at home, once again, 
  there shall be time aplenty for it." Or so she has deluded herself. "It will 
  take us longer to return to Haven than it took us to arrive here. The 
  gryphons are in sad shape." And her two are not among them.

"They... would go with me?" The notion that the guards of Clan Khalida would 
  go anywhere because Faanshi, shudra and halfbreed, asked it of them makes 
  the girl's green eyes go round as coins. It also brings a soft flush to her 
  face, though this is hard enough to catch in the twilight, and impossible 
  with her veil. "I... perhaps Nabi Jhonan will help me... I will go and say 
  my prayers and then try to find him. Please excuse me, Imphada Kiera...."
Faanshi, with this, bows her head to her winged mistress and shyly slips off 
  into the deepening twilight.

[End log.]