"A Little Morning Ruckus"

Log Date:
	5/15/00

Log Cast:
	Prying-Eagle, Fox, Faanshi, NPC Sylvan and Mongrels (emitted by
Prying-Eagle, Fox, Faanshi), BroadShoulders, Sebastienne, Cynara, Boden

Log Intro:
	Summer has come to Haven again -- and although Faanshi's life has
changed as of late with her being taken into the service of none other than
the Queen of the Maharani herself, in some respects the existence of the
young shudra healer hasn't changed in the slightest. Thalia Tritonides
Khalida has departed from Haven for duties involved with her august position,
leaving Faanshi to her own devices and with an absent mistress, a situation
with which the maiden is already quite familiar.
	She has tried not to let herself feel a pang of remorse that this
new mistress of hers has gone away; after all, is she, Faanshi, not a mere
shudra and unworthy to command much of the time of she who is the consort
of the Most High? Nor has she allowed herself to think overmuch of the fact
that the Mongrel bard she's grown to love, Lyre Talespinner, has _also_
departed Haven upon a private mission of his own. She still has her teacher
FallingStar to see every day, herbs to learn and administer to those who
come to the Sylvan woman's shop, prayers to say to Ushas each morning and
the Khalid Atar each night, the companionship of her beloved dog. And Faanshi
has the knowledge that there is need for her each day in Bordertown and in
Haven at large -- at least, if she can continue to stay out of the way of
Delphi.
	There is _always_ someone who needs her attention. The faces of
those she heals may change, but ultimately their need is the same. And the
Rialto in the heart of Haven can pretty much always be relied upon to contain
some kind of excitement and danger, something in which a halfbreed healer
girl may find herself and her loyal canine companion embroiled without a
breath of warning.
	No, indeed, some things never change...

*===========================< In Character Time >===========================*
             Time of day:  Night (Dawnside)
          Date on Aether:  Friday, June 25, 3906.
           Year on Earth:  1506 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Waning Gibbous
                  Season:  Summer
                 Weather:  Partly Cloudy
             Temperature:  Warm
*==========================================================================*

The Rialto - Haven(#159RDJM$)
     Reigning over the Rialto is the very heart of Haven: the Delphic Citadel. 
  It dwarfs the other buildings, which cluster around it like so many children 
  seeking a parent's protection. Day or night, rain or shine, its walls seem 
  to glimmer with a light of their own, as if, over the centuries, the magic 
  within had slowly permeated the entire structure. The main tower soars 
  higher than the tallest tree, and each side tapers inward so that it 
  resembles a giant obelisk. Four smaller towers stand at the four points of 
  the compass, representing the unification of each race under Delphi's 
  government.
     And here is where they all gather. The Rialto is the famed marketplace of 
  Haven, full of shops, stalls, and brightly colored tents. The shouts of 
  merchants, the haggling of patrons, the music of entertainers, and the 
  laughter of children create a nigh-constant cacophony that assaults the 
  senses. But the Rialto is nothing if not exciting, and crowds often gather 
  here for important events and public addresses.
                      (Note: 'places' are enabled here.)                      
Contents:
Kosha  
Fox     
Prying-Eagle                 
A wooden fence            
Obvious Exits:
Streets <N,S,E,W,NE,NW,SE,SW>  Delphic Citadel <DC>   The Smithy <TS>        

Sparkles of sunlight glimmer by the horizon, casting occasional sharp 
  reflections on windows. The coming dawn and morning is peaceful, but 
  activity is already stirring. Vendors are opening their business, wares are 
  being carried back and forth, and others are hurrying on early errands. It 
  seems it is going to be a day at the Rialto, just like any other. 
Suddenly something is... quite disturbing the peace. From one of the streets, 
  curses and noises can be heard, and soon after a young Sylvan man comes 
  running for all he's worth into the Rialto and between the vendors, looking 
  over his shoulder from time to time.

With the coming of dawn, it seems Fox has decided to start back up with his 
  thieving for he is once more in the Rialto, covered by his cloak and gloves. 
  Granted, the cloak is rather hot in this weather, and the gloves don't fit 
  right anymore, but he's trying. Just as he is about to filch some food, he 
  hears the noises and turns, watching the Sylvan running towards the 
  marketplace. Wait a minute, he recognizes him! Is that Varati after 
  Prying-Eagle again? Just as the other is about to pass him, hedarts out to 
  try and grab the other's arm and pull him back to the side of the stall.

Dawn has already begun -- and thus is the shudra Faanshi already up and about. 
  Her prayers have been sung to Ushas, as she's searched for another day's 
  worth of courage to set foot in the Rialto, all too close to the edifice of 
  Delphi. That august establishment in theory has no power over her, serving 
  Thalia Tritonides Khalida as she now does, but old fears die hard. And so on 
  an early summer morning, the maiden in red and blue and gold is another 
  individual on her way into the marketplace. At her side is a huge handsome 
  dog who has much the same goal in mind as Fox does: the acqusition of food. 
  And like that Sylvan youth, the dog is alerted by the pounding of running 
  feet. His head swivels in that direction, ears perking up, and with a growl 
  of warning he scampers into the way of his young mistress lest she get 
  trampled by those in hurried approach.

Kosha
This young dog, probably a year or two old, seems to be an easy hundred 
  pounds. He has large, wolfish pointed ears and paws that must have been 
  positively enormous when he was a puppy, but which now harmoniously match 
  his big muscular frame. He sports fluffy, multicolored fur of white, black, 
  gray, and silver, thick stuff that seems ideal for attracting dirt, burrs, 
  and any other manner of detritus and debris. His tail is a proud plume 
  almost constantly in wagging motion whenever he happens to espy someone 
  familiar to him. Alert brown eyes speak highly of this dog's intelligence. 
  He is never very far from the shudra girl Faanshi, and seems always on the 
  lookout for anything that might threaten his young mistress.

Faanshi
     At first glance, some things about this individual are easy to discern. 
  The garments worn are those oft seen on Varati females, yet, this figure 
  stands at only 5'9", small for a woman of that race. But woman she clearly 
  is, if the glimpses of slender hands and feet and of the shape beneath her 
  flowing garb are to be believed. What portions of her skin are visible are a 
  warm shade of gold; a hint of a braid of coal-black peeks out from beneath 
  her sari. Shy or perhaps simply trained to submissive silence she must be, 
  for she rarely raises her eyes to anyone unless specifically bidden, and she 
  speaks so seldom and so softly that it is nigh impossible to determine the 
  quality of her voice. Only the most astute of observers might notice that 
  every so often -- perhaps when she thinks no one is watching -- this silent 
  one peeks with furtive curiosity out from behind her veil at the world at 
  large, with eyes set at a slight un-Varatish slant in her face, eyes the 
  color of summer leaves.
     She is simply clad, her garments of humble make but excellent repair, 
  perhaps the clothing of a servant whose household garbs even its servants 
  well. Her choli is a bright shade of red; her silwar, bright blue. A darker 
  blue sari with gold trim is wrapped about her slender frame, and a veil of 
  translucent light blue silken stuff conceals the lower half of her face from 
  easy view. On her feet are a penniless shudra's version of boots -- several 
  rags of blue, red, and gold cloth tied there and there along her calves, 
  ankles and feet, held in place by the long thongs of her sandals.

Fox
        Fox doesn't seem to resemble his namesake at all. In fact, he could 
  almost pass for Varati...or at least, a Varati love-child. His hair hangs 
  past his shoulders, thick and straight and dark. His skin tone is even a 
  little bit coppery...but that could have something to do with his more 
  recent time spent in the sun. Besides, what Varati has freckles? Or pointed 
  ears? No, on closer inspection, he is definitely Sylvan. By the reddish 
  tufts of hair covering each ear-tip, it would seem that he is graisha as 
  well. There may be a drop or two of Varati blood, but it's been thinned 
  quite a bit. Besides, his green eyes are really too bright a color for any 
  non-Sylvan. Although he prefers the cobblestones of the city to the 
  leaf-strewn paths of the wilderness, his eyes are the color of pine needles; 
  a deep, slightly blued green. He is obviously young into adulthood, as he 
  still has a bit of than lankiness equated with the teenage years. But that 
  is slowly fading. Still, he is fairly tall, just about 6', and slender. He 
  is still at an age where he can eat all day and it wouldn't show. His face 
  is fairly sharp-boned; high cheekbones, a straight nose, and narrow chin, 
  giving him a bit of the alertness of his namesake even if he lacks the 
  coloring. His hands are long-fingered...artist's hands, should he choose to 
  explore that route.
        His clothes are simple. A woven shirt of a faded blue, bordering now 
  on grey, dark pants tucked into boots, and a vest decorated with symbolic 
  totems, the most prevalent being a red fox. About his neck hangs a medallion 
  given to him by the Shaman, and a small carving knife is tucked into his 
  belt.

Prying-Eagle
         The explorer, Prying-Eagle is usually covered with dust. Or perhaps 
  it is just an effect of the curls and waves within the darkly brown hair 
  that crowns his head, just reaching past his pointed ears. Or maybe it is 
  the dusky brown visage of this young sylvan man. Pale green eyes gaze at the 
  surroundings with a combination of curiousity and mischief. An almost 
  constant glimmer of intrigue can often be caught within them, an 
  unquenchable thirst for more of the world around him. Prying-Eagle's facial 
  features are still somewhat smooth from youth, but offer a hint of sharper 
  angles, emphasized by high cheekbones depicting the essence of a strong 
  character that he is yet to grow into. There is also something barely 
  noticable somewhere within these features, something serious, some kind of 
  hidden strength that is waiting to be discovered. 
         Prying-Eagle is dressed in an outfit typical of a traveller and 
  explorer. Like most Sylvans, his clothing has the colors of nature, but his 
  own is combined with the kind of clothes city dwellers wear. A loose, brown 
  shirt covers the graceful and subtle strength hinted at in his movements. A 
  vest made out of hide fits more snugly, widening the sleeves of his shirt. 
  It seems like a garment meant for practical purposes, as this vest has 
  several pockets along the chest and sides, showing small bulges that hint at 
  items in them. The vest hangs loose, but the shirt is tucked into a pair of 
  firmly belted pants, made out of a loose, comfortable brown cloth. There are 
  patches of hide for his knees, made to make them last better for long 
  journeys and more dramatic situations he may find himself in. Peeking out 
  from below his pants, are a pair of soft, yet sturdy leather boots.

"Hey! I told you, alright? It's not my fault!", Prying-Eagle calls 
  exasperatedly over his shoulder at a little gathering of merchants that are 
  charging after him in furious intent.. "Oh great", he mutters. "Why 
  bothering, they aren't listening anyway.." Let's just keep running, shall 
  we? Chaos erupts even further only moments after. As Fox reaches out to grab 
  him, he finds himself.. rather surprised, and loses balance, only to run 
  headlong into Faanshi's dog, which results in a nice flight forward right 
  into a wooden box, sending up a cloud of hay, smoke and dust into the air. 
  The merchants, one fat Sylvan and two Mongrel associates skid to a halt, in 
  order to keep themselves from ending up in the same mess.

Fox gets pulled out from his hiding space as Prying-Eagle doesn't seem to 
  stop. Oops. His arms windmill, but he still loses his balance, rolling in 
  the dust and hay that have spilled from the other collision. Once he gets 
  back into a crouch, his eyes narrow as he looks to Prying-Eagle, but first 
  he has to see if anyone is following.

One hundred pounds of muscular dog is not exactly a comfortable thing over 
  which to trip. Kosha has already started lunging forward in protective 
  canine reaction to the figures charging past -- and when Prying-Eagle slams 
  into him, the hound lets out a loud bellowing yelp of protest, unthinkingly 
  trying to throw himself to the cobblestones beneath his paws in protest. 
  Just behind him, Faanshi lets out a rather softer gasp of dismay, crying, 
  "Holy Mother of the Amir-al... Imphadi, are you all right?" This, clearly, 
  is to the fallen Sylvan, towards whom she now attempts to flit even as she 
  casts a brief worried glance over her dainty shoulder at the men hot on 
  Prying-Eagle's heels.

The clouds of dust and hay settle down slowly, and seemingly out of instinct, 
  the light footed Sylvan attempts to stand right away, to simply run further. 
  He sits up slowly, and puts down his hands down on the cobblestones to 
  support his way up. He gasps in pain as his shoulder gives way, providing no 
  support at all, and he collapses once more.. His hair bobs about him as he 
  looks up and around.. A Varati woman? He squints his eyes.. A large dog.. 
  Fox? That's his name! Fox! How come he remembers now.. Prying-Eagle narrows 
  his eyes further as if he was dizzy, and looking intensively is quite a 
  task.. One fat merchant and his two.. Must run! He lifts his hands again.. 
  Bah! No use. He groans and lies down to await his end.. 
"You owe us, Prying-Eagle, and you know it. " A quite greedy grin forms on the 
  quite prodigious Sylvan's lips. "I will settle for the contents of you bag, 
  and we're even.. " Damn it.. He looks over his shoulders. Better get this 
  business settled before any Hounds may arrive.. Could attract attention. We 
  wouldn't want that.. He steps forward with his two associates, in order to 
  grab Prying-Eagles shoulderbag from what appears to be his.. wounded 
  shoulder. Does it really belong to them?

Fox hasn't been noticed by the thugs, so he slides behind them, thinking to 
  run at them from behind. It might be enough time for Prying-Eagle to get 
  away...but this time he's going to want to know what everyone is after. A 
  moment to set his weight before he rund to try and leap on the back of one 
  of the two aggressors.

Whether or not attention may descend from the Hounds at any time, attention has 
  most assuredly been seized from the dog and the girl in Varati garb. As the 
  merchants shove past her with a roughness that brings Kosha to his feet 
  again and provokes an irate snarl out of the dog's throat, the maiden in 
  turn breathes in sharply as an inner sense flares to life. The Sylvan is 
  hurt -- and he's tripped over her dog. This makes it her fault. But there 
  are three men on their feet and only one of her... well, two, if you count 
  Kosha. Deeply unaccustomed to trying to assert her will towards those of the 
  male gender, she pauses for a fraction of an instant before her honor 
  propels her forward to try to stop these men from whatever harm they might 
  want to deal upon the fallen one. "Please, Imphadis," she begs anxiously, 
  "he is hurt...! Let me attend him, and then you can conduct your business--" 
  From the looks on their faces even an innocent lass like Faanshi can suspect 
  that their intentions aren't entirely pure, but then again, an innocent lass 
  like Faanshi must at least _try_ to give them the benefit of the doubt...

Prying-Eagle shuffles backwards against the wooden box, clutching his shoulder 
  bag almost frantically. "No!", he breathes, then coughs, which brings a 
  wince from the shaking of his shoulder. Damn it that hurts! "You expect me 
  to pay you with something that doesn't rightfully belong to you, for 
  something I didn't- " He coughs again. Just like still, you fool. This young 
  man seems too restless to really understand he shouldn't speak or move 
  however. That's a typical flair of young, restless men.. 
"Well, you /are/ going to pay. " The Sylvan merchants flicks a hand at his two 
  associates. "Just grab it quick, so we can get out of here. " They look 
  warily at the growling dog though.. "Woman..", one of them begins 
  threateningly. Uff! He is toppled over and sent forward on the ground, face 
  down, by Fox.

Hey, this is more fun than he thought! Too bad Fox can't make certain the 
  toppled one doesn't get back up...he's just not that heavy to keep him down 
  for too long. And then there are the other ones...'Run!' he signs to 
  Prying-Eagle...Faanshi too, if she can understand it. He's confident that he 
  can outrun the thugs if he has too...he doesn't have a sore shoulder.

Faanshi has managed to learn a number of things in the two years she's been in 
  Haven -- but the hand-signs sometimes used by those without any kind of 
  speech as of yet are not one of them. Not comprehending the gesture that Fox 
  tosses her way, she remains focused upon the fallen, aching man crumpled by 
  that big box there at the marketplace's edge -- and then she shrieks as the 
  Sylvan's other Mongrel associate opts to seize _her_. That's enough to bring 
  Kosha into the fray, and the dog's white teeth flash as he promptly tackles 
  the man, driving both him and the maiden to the ground.

BroadShoulders enters the Rialto from the northwestern intersection of Fairway 
  and Border.
BroadShoulders has arrived.

The bustling morning activity of the Rialto doesn't appear to be much out of 
  the ordinary, except for a little.. intermission near a vendor selling sacks 
  of hay and flour. Near these sacks and boxes lies a young Sylvan man named 
  Prying-Eagle, who is desperately trying to get up on his feet.. To either 
  fight or run, hard to tell at the moment.. But his apparently broken 
  shoulder collapses each time.. Two Mongrels and one fat Sylvan merchant seem 
  intent on some bag that Prying-Eagle is clutching seemingly for his life 
  right now.. 

Ughmmpf! The fallen Mongrel aims with an elbow up at Fox, trying to cause pain 
  and momentum so he can get up. The other Mongrel is thrown backwards like a 
  rag-doll treated by a kid, as the large dog throws itself at him. "Ahhharg! 
  Get him off me! Get him off me!" The merchant stares greedily at the bag 
  Prying-Eagle is clutching.. Damn it! Too much attention is directed already. 
  Without even looking back at his two associates in trouble, he turns, and 
  starts to walk, or rather, wobble, quickly back the way he came. He casts an 
  angry glare over his shoulder.. Down at Prying-Eagle. I will get you.. 
  sooner or later. And at Faanshi and Fox.. Don't think I won't remember.. 
  With that, he disappears in the crowds, before the Hounds are attracted.

Fox gets the elbow in his side, yelping at the sudden pain and slashing out 
  with his claws to try to at least draw some blood. That'll make him feel 
  better about bruising a rib. Purposely stepping on the man as he stands, he 
  gives him a shove with his foot before moving to Prying-Eagle, rubbing at 
  his aching side. Stupid thugs. Good thing he's not upset enough to shift of 
  then they'd be a bit worse off...or he'd like to think that at least.

BroadShoulders runs into the Rialto, a younger Sylvan at his side. "This way!" 
  the boy calls, setting a direction through the marketplace towards the 
  altercation. A tail of silver-streaked bronze hair bounces merrily against 
  the smith's wide back and sparks fly from the nails in his boots as the 
  older man makes all possible speed towards Prying-Eagle and Fox.

One hundred pounds of muscular dog is not comfortable to trip over -- and one 
  hundred pounds of _angry_ muscular dog is even less comfortable to have 
  perched upon one's chest, as Kosha is now perched upon the chest of the 
  Mongrel who'd been insolent enough to try to seize Faanshi and shove her out 
  of the way of his associates. Growling a deep, full-throated growl right 
  into the man's face, the dog seems about two seconds away from going for his 
  captive's throat, but the maiden has scrambled to her feet now. Faanshi's 
  inner sense has flared again at the signal of pain from the silent Sylvan -- 
  and now that she's marked the merchant running off, she tugs Kosha off the 
  Mongrel man and then waves a finger at him, looking all the world as if 
  she's trying to scold an errant child. "Namaste', and forgive my impudence, 
  Imphadi, but Kosha grows very irate when he thinks I am threatened. Please 
  leave now, so that I may attend these men," she requests in tones of 
  surprising gentleness for a girl who's just received such rough handling.

A growl of pain comes from the Mongrel man as Fox puts his claws into it and 
  shove him away.. The one thrown on his back by the big dog looks quite 
  relieved as he is freed from a hundred pound of angry canine. They both look 
  around.. Where is their master? One of them spots Broadshoulders and his 
  friends. Now, isn't it one of the laws of universe, that thugs run away any 
  moment they are outnumbered? Of course. And this they do, tripping, running 
  and limping off into the crowds.. The vendor selling all this hay and flour 
  crosses his arms and glares at the people who have cause so much commotion.. 
  At least none of his wares were ruined.. And in fact.. it has attracted 
  attention. May be profitable. 

Prying-Eagle tries to raise yet another time. What a restless fool he is! He 
  clutches his shoulderbag of hide like it were an infant in his arms, before 
  his eyes roll upwards and he collapses in a more final manner, groaning. 
  Trying to stand too many times with a broken shoulder takes energy, quite 
  obviously, that should be saved for other things.

Fox can't help but wince in sympathy as Prying-Eagle collapses. Well, the 
  least he can do is try to get that satchel from his shoulder so it can get 
  set or something. He does wonder what's in that bag that everyone wants, but 
  he'll look later. In the meantime he starts to wonder how to get 
  Prying-Eagle back to the tunnels, when BroadShoulders' scent comes downwind. 
  Oops.

BroadShoulders arrives with his young escort, who promptly fades back into the 
  crowd. He takes stock of the scene with one swift glance, casting an angry 
  gaze at the fleeing thugs, and begins to deal with the irate merchant. 
  "Everything alright, Master Merchant? Nothing broken? Yes, actually, I would 
  like some flour. Four sacks would be perfect." After all, the others are 
  adults - mostly. They should be able to sort themselves out now that the 
  threat has gone.

"Peace, Kosha, be at peace, I am all right, shhh..." The maiden's voice falls 
  like a gentle rain upon the ear as she takes a moment to soothe the 
  aggravated canine, and with a disgruntled yurf Kosha submits to the 
  strokings she bestows upon his furry head. His hackles slowly lower, and a 
  few wags animate his proud tail. But Faanshi takes only a moment with this 
  indulgence, for a higher need is tugging inexorably at that power that lies 
  within her. She pivots upon sandaled feet towards the two Sylvans by the 
  box, then throws herself swiftly to her knees beside the stranger whose 
  damaged bones seem to scream to her for help. Most of what can be gleaned 
  from her appearance is a sense of her bright silks, a glimpse of black hair 
  beneath her sari and the sungolden hue of her hands and what little is 
  visible of her face... and eyes of an unmistakably vivid green above her 
  veil, lifted for once to meet the faces of male strangers as she pleads, 
  "You are both hurt... please, Imphadis, will you allow me to help you?" The 
  rapidly approaching smith and his young companion are noted, at best, as 
  peripheral presences. BroadShoulders has not stepped forward to block her 
  from the one who tripped over Kosha, and so he is deemed as unimportant as 
  Faanshi is ever likely to deem a man, at least for the moment. All her 
  attention now falls upon Fox... and upon Prying-Eagle.

"Noooo", Prying-Eagle groans almost desperately at Fox as he tries to take his 
  bag, barely concious. He clutches it again, which brings another wince from 
  his shoulder.. He sighs deeply. "Don't open it..", he breathes. "Just keep 
  it safe. " He is so tired of this.. Why can't people let him take it to 
  where it rightfully belongs? Thuck... His head lands in the dirt, yes. His 
  energies are quite spent now. Pale green eyes open to look up at the Varati 
  healer.. Or is she Varati? Her eyes look oddly green.. Her veiled face is 
  the last thing his vision registers before he falls unconcious.
.. That's what happens to young reckless men who can't lie still when they are 
  hurt.

The bag is taken, but Fox nods his head, agreeing not to open it. His side 
  does hurt a bit, but he shakes his head as the Varati looks to him. 
  Prying-Eagle is in more pain. He's just bruised. Moving out of the way he 
  fights the curiosity about the statchel and just holds it, dividing his 
  attention between BroadShoulders and Prying-Eagle and Faanshi.

The merchant mollified, BroadShoulders turns to Fox. "What happened, Fox? 
  Beyond thugs attacking and hurting both of you."

Oh dear. Those green eyes of the maiden's blink for a moment or two above her 
  veil in evident bemusement as Prying-Eagle loses his grip on awareness -- 
  but only for a moment, as this means she's gotten all the answer she's going 
  to get out of him, and her decision is made for her. She bobs her 
  sari-covered head once in acknowledgement to Fox before she leans forward, 
  just enough to place one hand upon the unconscious man's shoulder, the other 
  on his brow. And as she does so, the aether begins to flow.
At Faanshi's side, Kosha has calmed down now, his anger passing swiftly now 
  that his beloved companion isn't in any further apparent danger. His ears 
  twitch in his own version of puzzlement as the man sprawled in the dirt 
  faints, and the big dog thrusts his muzzle curiously past his mistress, 
  sniffing the inert Sylvan thoroughly.

Prying-Eagle pages: The bones of his shoulder is broken firmly in one place, 
  and dislocated in two additional ones. Quite the strain to his muscles.

One moment, so completely filled with life, running, struggling with all his 
  efforts with his attempts in trying to keep the followers from taking his 
  bag.. The next, exhausted, limp. Prying-Eagle's hair catches the wind 
  slightly, some of it blowing across his forehead and eyes.. From a state of 
  tenseness to absolute relaxion. For now, because surely, he will be in pain 
  when he wakes up, one way or the other?

Fox sighs and begins signing. Prying-Eagle ran in, Fox tried to catch him and 
  pull him away...he ran into the dog...fell into the hay and all, then the 
  thugs attacked. That's the basic gist of it. He starts to shift his weight 
  and winces as it pulls at his bruised side. Hopefully no ribs were broken. 
  Looking about as the healing goes on, he decides that it might be safer to 
  bring the satchel to the tunnels. His side can be looked at later...maybe 
  Sunrose can fix it or something. If not, he'll deal. Signs are made to 
  BroadShoulders, telling him where he's going to go.
Fox takes the northeastern route toward Fairway and Vicina.
Fox has left.

BroadShoulders nods, agreeing. "Yes, if the thugs were after that satchel, get 
  it to safety." A raised hand and a quick signal, and a minute or two later 
  another Sylvan emerges from the crowd. This Sylvan has 'warrior' written all 
  over him, and has a face Fox recognises. Fox and the warrior vanish, heading 
  for the street BroadShoulders came in by.

Magic courses through Faanshi's slender fingers and out into the wounded young 
  man -- and what it tells the halfbreed girl makes her bite her lip behind 
  her veil. Keeping her hands in place, she draws in a breath and tries to 
  steady her concentration as best she can, enough to let her lift her head 
  and look worriedly about. The other Sylvan, the one with signs of graisha 
  about his appearance, appears to have vanished -- but there is the older one 
  remaining. To him, the girl calls out in tones as urgent as her gentle voice 
  can produce, "Imphadi... please, Imphadi, can you help me? His shoulder--! 
  It is out of its place...!"

Prying-Eagle remains still. There is little else he can do. In fact, that's 
  what his mind and body is right now telling him to do. But correcting his 
  shoulder.. Now that will surely waking up, won't it?

BroadShoulders nods, and smiles down at Faanshi as he crouches next to her. 
  "Namaste, Imphada. You are the master of this. Tell me what I must do."

Faanshi can feel Prying-Eagle's pain sizzling through her senses, and her 
  magic roils in reply, anxious to reach out and obliberate that hurt. But she 
  is not the maiden of two years ago, who would have had difficulty keeping 
  rein on her own power; now, instead, the girl in the sari and veil manages 
  to hold the flow of her magic back just enough to let it keep washing 
  through the wounded man, to mute out pain as best she can to prepare for 
  what needs to be done. At any other time she might be far shyer around this 
  respectably aged smith, but not now. That BroadShoulders greets her in the 
  manner of the Children of Fire brings a quick flash of warm gratitude to her 
  eyes, and in reply she bows a bit in his direction, as much as she can 
  manage with her hands still occupied. "It is his shoulder, Imphadi," she 
  states with conviction. "I can feel it out of place, and it must be put back 
  where it belongs before I can mend it and his flesh properly -- but I am not 
  strong enough to do it alone...!" Kosha, in the meantime, is made to skitter 
  out of the way when the smith joins him and his mistress; undeterred, the 
  dog tries to shove in between them. Faanshi spares just enough attention to 
  instruct him sternly, "Sit, Kosha!" And the dog takes a few steps backwards, 
  reluctantly obeying.

Prying-Eagle remains almost peacefully unconcious, unaware of what is about to 
  come..

BroadShoulders nods at the words of the Healer, and smiles at her. "I will do 
  anything to help this young man, Imphada. Show me what must be done." His 
  deep voice is filled with concern, and the desire to help.

"Help me move him, carefully, Imphadi -- I will hold him steady, but I need 
  you to take his shoulder, _here_..." And Faanshi's fingers trace the spot 
  where the young Sylvan's shoulder makes an unnatural angle with the rest of 
  his upper body. As carefully as she can, she slips an arm in under 
  Prying-Eagle's head and draws him up closer to her, so that she might hold 
  him firmly. "When I ask, please push there, with all your strength.... are 
  you ready?"

The smith takes hold of Prying-Eagle where the Healer has shown him, and nods. 
  "When you are, Imphada."

"Uhh..." The young Sylvan man mutters something, as the touches start bringing 
  him back towards being concious again.. Perhaps the soothing against pain 
  that Faanshi provided him will help. Hopefully.

Faanshi has not managed to learn sign language during her time in Haven -- but 
  she _has_ learned how to mend a dislocated shoulder, from hard-won 
  experience. Once she has her charge held against her and BroadShoulders' 
  hands are in place, she closes her eyes and once again widens her attunement 
  to the power still surging within her. She must be ready, to hold his body 
  if he thrashes, and to meet and match with her magic the new hurt she's 
  about to deal him. Her throat dry, a sheen of sweat beginning to gleam 
  across her brow, she breathes to the volunteer at her side:
"Now."

BroadShoulders pushes and twists, bringing his massive strength to bear on the 
  arm and shoulder. He has done this before, though not more than twice, and 
  he knows a little bit about how to go about it. Without the Healer, however, 
  he'd have been lost.

Sebastienne has arrived.

Prying-Eagle's suddenly gasp of pain is followed by a more noticable cry of 
  agony as his shoulder is pulled and twisted at. He is so sore, yet at the 
  same time soothed there, so his muscles are in no position to resist even 
  remotely, which makes the task easier for Broadshoulders. Some people have 
  turned to look at the little spectacle, a few of the vendors frowning. 
  Better take this away soon.. Bad for business. By the Earth Mother, this 
  hurts! 
A young, reckless Sylvan called Prying-Eagle lies against a box filled with 
  hay. A Shudra healer, Faanshi is kneeling next to him, and is in the process 
  of, together with Broadshoulders, to twist his shoulder quite firmly. It 
  seems to hurt.

Just behind Faanshi, Kosha is still sitting as he's been bade, but it's clear 
  the dog is uneasy at the activity in which his mistress is engaged. He 
  whines at the injured Sylvan, or perhaps at Faanshi -- maybe he'd like his 
  mistress to stop doing this strange business of hers, too? At the moment, 
  though, the shudra girl is not in a position to ease her hound's anxiety. 
  Her magic linking her consciousness to every aspect of the young body she's 
  cradling against her, Faanshi feels that blast of pain almost as keenly as 
  Prying-Eagle does -- but unlike the Sylvan, she's still in control of her 
  awareness. Her veil hides it, but she grits her teeth behind the blue silk 
  as she tamps down on her fractious power's flare of response -- and then she 
  channels it, now that his bones are where they belong, into mending what is 
  broken and torn within him. Aether flows unhindered now, pouring into the 
  Sylvan like a waterfall of light, making pain melt away before its advance.

BroadShoulders rocks back onto his heels, watching Prying-Eagle as the man is 
  Healed. The dog's whine is heard, and BroadShoulders turns to him, still 
  crouched, holding a hand out. Will the dog let him be friends? The smith 
  hopes so, but doesn't know that much about animals.

A lone figure with a grim face slowly enters the Rialto. Head is ducked low, 
  watching those around her from behind fallen bangs, while shoulders and 
  wings droop behind her. Slow and precise are her movements, almost as if she 
  had been zapped of her own mind and control. The whimpering of a dog, the 
  shrieking cry of pain, all are heard, but she does nothing to locate the 
  sources. Instead, Sebastienne moves to 'her' barrel and climbs atop it, 
  folding one leg over the other.

Prying-Eagle's cries of pain gradually fade, and cease with an exhausted gasp 
  as the pull of his shoulder stops. He can't feel anything there.. He's so 
  numb! His chest rises and falls rapidly, and he is once more fully awake, 
  sweat running down his face, his hair plastered against his forehead.. 
  "That.. hurt", he breathes. There is no accusation in his voice, just an odd 
  stating of the obvious. He squints his eyes again, as if trying to make out 
  the faces above him more clearly. Broadshoulders.. At least one familiar 
  face. That somewhat eases his tensions a bit. His gaze drifts to Faanshi for 
  a moment, narrowing in concentration.. Dressed like a Varati.. but doesn't 
  look like one..

The maiden feels her charge's return to consciousness a fraction of an instant 
  before it actually occurs -- and thus, even as Prying-Eagle awakens again, 
  Faanshi's magic is already beginning its retreat. Her eyes are still closed 
  too, and it seems to take her a moment before she can open them in answer to 
  the Sylvan she still holds. "You will be all right, Imphadi," she whispers, 
  her voice still soft, but now sounding a little insubstantial, a little 
  distant. "But you must eat something... to regain your strength... and rest 
  this day, if you can." Next to her, Kosha flicks a curious ear at 
  BroadShoulders, craning forth his nose to sniff at those proffered fingers; 
  for the moment, the girl doesn't seem to notice.

BroadShoulders lets the dog sniff for a few moments, and then withdraws his 
  hand. No sense in pushing it, after all. He turns back to Faanshi, now that 
  her attention is back on the world at large. "Imphada, I thank you." He 
  points down one of the streets.
As Prying-Eagle regains some sense, the burly smith whispers to him. He 
  stands, bows to Faanshi, and heads for home.

Sebastienne folds her hands together and lets out a slow sigh before beginning 
  her usual 'scan' of the market. Now that she is looking, she sees the small 
  scene going on, and recognizes Prying-Eagle. With a shake of her head she 
  mutters something about finding someone who gets into more trouble than even 
  her. She just stays put, watching for a moment.

Green eyes look up at Faanshi, then at Broad-Shoulders, wide. Then 
  Prying-Eagle tries to spot if the merchant and his associates are still 
  there.. He takes a deep breath and relaxes.. Then he looks over his 
  shoulders.. His bag! He doesn't seem to be in the position to answer 
  Faanshi, as this shock comes on him. "They took it!" I need to.. He puts 
  down his hand again on the ground to get up.. Uh oh.. His shoulder is good.. 
  but numb. Flomp, and down he goes again. When Broadshoulders whispers to 
  him, he sighs with relief, but there is still something wary on his 
  features.. He has to hope now one messes around with it.

With a little gasp of dismay, Faanshi tries to steady Prying-Eagle, as long as 
  he seems intent upon sitting up again. "Gently, Imphadi," she blurts, while 
  Kosha determinedly gets up and pads back over closer to her side now that 
  BroadShoulders seems on his way off. The maiden nods a hasty farewell to the 
  smith, saying earnestly, "It is my duty and honor to aid..."

Gently? He hasn't tried that approach on a regular basis.. He is too reckless 
  to do that. Slowly, very much so, he sits up, reaching up with a hand to rub 
  lightly at his shoulder.. "Did you do that?", he asks His voice is 
  well-articulated but somewhat unpolished, and already, curiousity is 
  starting to sound in it. He studies Faanshi with a mix between curiousity 
  and wariness. She is the one who helped him, right?

Sebastienne hops off the barrel and starts her movement towards her new 
  friend. She says nothing, and stops just behind the healer woman. Listening 
  carefully, she kicks a wing back to keep it out of her way should she have 
  to run quickly.

Once Prying-Eagle is able to sit up, the last connection Faanshi's magic has 
  maintained with his body dissipates and leaves in its wake a lightheadedness 
  with which the shudra girl has grown quite familiar over the years. She 
  doesn't try to rise or move -- instead, she can be heard to breathe the name 
  of her dog in instinctive pleading. Kosha promptly leans up against her, 
  giving her a furry neck around which to lay one arm. Half the dog's 
  attention is upon the Empyrean girl who has drawn near, however, and Kosha's 
  distraction in turn makes Faanshi turn her half-focused gaze to the 
  newcomer. "Namaste'," she murmurs towards Sebastienne, and then to 
  Prying-Eagle she appends, "Yes, Imphadi..." The voice from behind the veil 
  turns sheepish as she concludes by way of explanation, "You tripped over my 
  dog."

Sebastienne
Dirty, unkept and shapeless are the words used to describe the not-so-regal 
  looking wings that droop and drag behind her back. In fact, it looks as if 
  she has never used them, and maybe doesn't even realize they exist. Her hair 
  is long and soft, and colored like fresh honey as it tumbles over her 
  shoulders. It does an impeccable job of framing her chiseled face. High 
  cheek bones, a small nose, and small, full lips. Her chin matches the rest 
  of the ensemble, proportuined and well shaped. Her eyes are deep set, and 
  are colored the same blue as the night sky - just as the sun begins to slip 
  past the horizon and sheds its last rays of the darkening canvas.
Her clothes however are not what one would expect to see a young Empyrean 
  running around in. She wears dark pants, torn and dirty, and a dark blue 
  rope that has been cut and hemmed up to hang as a shirt. On her feet, the 
  unthinkable - clunky brown, soft solded boots.
She walks easily, and seems to have a stamina for staying on her feet. Her 
  skin is fair still, though obviously darkened from many days spent outside. 
  Her eyes take in everything around her, and flinch when she catches people 
  looking back at her direction. When one can spot her, and elude her to the 
  fact she is being looked at, you can find a bright smile and laughter in her 
  eyes.
Carrying:
Angel Necklace

Prying-Eagle's own features turn into a rather sheepish grin as Faanshi 
  responds to him. "Yes, I can recall doing that. " He reaches out with a 
  hand, perhaps a bit hesitantly, but obviously in a friendly gesture towards 
  the large dog.. "Sorry about that, fellow", he says faintly. Hey, his voice 
  is not supposed to sound this faint and tired.. He turns his gaze back to 
  Faanshi, and the sheepish grin transforms slowly into a smile. "Thank you 
  for healing me, and.. " He looks past Sebastienne, where the merchant and 
  his fellows left.. ".. and whatever that was done. I guess I owe you. " He 
  is owe a lot of people lately. Wait. Sebastienne? He reaches up with a hand 
  to wave to her.

Cynara arrives right into the thick of the Rialto from the southwest.
Cynara has arrived.

Boden arrives right into the thick of the Rialto from the southwest.
Boden has arrived.

Sebastienne nods to Prying-Eagle and offers just a small grin. Then, softly 
  spoken adds, "You should invest in a lot of raw meat. Looks like you're one 
  who could use it alot." She giggles a little and takes a deep breath. "I am 
  grabbing some food, would you like some?" She ignores the Varati-dressed 
  healer type and looks to the Sylvan.

She's not exactly unaccustomed to being ignored by Empyreans -- but even so, 
  the fact that Sebastienne is apparently ignoring _her_ brings a flicker of 
  something like distress to Faanshi's green gaze. She dips it shyly away as 
  the Empyrean girl addresses Prying-Eagle, demonstrating her obvious 
  familiarity wtih him, and all that Faanshi manages to make by way of reply 
  to the Sylvan man is a softly murmured, "It is my duty and honor to heal, 
  Imphadi. Be careful with your shoulder..." And with that, she begins to 
  cautiously rise, thinking she will leave this man with the one who is 
  clearly his friend.

Prying-Eagle seems to have another view of the situation. Empyreans may hate 
  Varati and the other way around, but he is not going to take anyone's side 
  in it.. Sebastienne may be a new aquaintance, but Faanshi unselfishly just 
  saved him from a lot of pain, and her dog did some additional saving.. Of 
  course, he tripped on it.. But is that her fault? He takes a deep breath, as 
  he slowly makes himself up on his feet. Yep. They still work. He brushes 
  some dust off his knees, as if what had just happened was something that 
  happens daily to him. He offers Faanshi another faint grin. "Nevertheless I 
  think I am in debt to you. " Damn you, Prying-Eagle, you must always be so 
  weak around women, don't you? His smile turns into a somewhat roguish grin. 
  "I'll be careful, trust me. " It's as if that grin, and his statement 
  clearly contradict the other. "Food? Err.. Sure. I just need to make sure my 
  body is working again.. " He brushes some loose, not so dust-free hair away 
  from his forehead with a finger.. He hopes they are not going to go at each 
  other's throats..

The morning summer sun washes down over the golden hair and white wings of the 
  branded healer known as Cynara she steps into the market place, blue eyes 
  immediately scanning it for attack or familiar faces. Beside her, strides a 
  young mongrel man to whom she murmurs occassionally. It does not take long 
  for the target of her search to be spotted and the young man is more or less 
  expected to follow as the lady of thorns targets her even strides in 
  Sebastienne's direction.

Boden keeps in stride with Cynara, a slightly puzzled look on his face as he 
  too looks around. Once he spots Tienne his features brighten into a broad 
  smile and he tries to wave her down. Pulling ahead of the Empyrean healer, 
  Boden picks up the pace and trots over towards his winger friend.

Sebastienne grins and nods to Prying-Eagle. "Stay here and get yourself pulled 
  together, I will go get you something." With that she shakes her head gently 
  with a smile and stands up straight. To Faanshi she turns her head. "It's a 
  start I suppose. It would have been better if you did it because you wanted 
  to, or cared to, rather than out of honor and necessity. But it's a start. 
  Thank you." Her back turned from those who approach her, she turns about 
  with a carefree lilt to her step and heads to the food vendors. Boden is 
  then noticed and she smiles waving back at him... ... until she sees who 
  follows. At that she turns from her direction and tries to duck into the 
  crowds.

To be certain, if there is any hostility here, it is not about to come from 
  Faanshi; if anything, the overwhelming demeanor now put forth by her slender 
  form is one of a profound, uncomfortable shyness. She might be noted to 
  shoot Sebastienne a deeply bemused glance as the winged girl deigns to speak 
  to her, and she pauses before murmuring humbly, "My duty... _is_ my 
  desire..." But the words come out of her barely audibly, her veil hiding the 
  movements of her mouth. To Prying-Eagle she makes no reply at all, at least 
  not vocally. The winning grin he offers her gets him merely a timid little 
  shake of her head; evidently, the maiden will accept no recompense for what 
  she's just done. Kosha nudging hopefully at her side, Faanshi turns to creep 
  quietly away, trying to move on knees now threatening to turn unsteady 
  beneath her -- only to see Cynara and Boden heading her way. Ushas. Boden 
  she does not know, but Cynara's striking figure is familiar, and Faanshi is 
  suddenly possessed with an even greater desire to make herself scarce.

Prying-Eagle's gaze linger on Faanshi with a mix between curiousty, concern 
  and uncertainy. The woman is completely exhausted.. "Imphada, are you 
  alright?", he asks. He always has to check if people are alright, doesn't 
  he? And run headlong into their problems and poke around. He reaches out 
  with his hands. "Let me escort you to wherever you are going?", he offers. 
  At least he can do /something/ for what she did.. He returns Sebastienne's 
  smile, but sighs as she heads off.. Well, that's to be expected from that 
  one.. Fiery woman, that one.. He fights for a moment to keep himself from 
  grinning at that thought.. He doesn't seem to have noticed Cynara or Boden's 
  approach yet.

As Tienne is seen to dart away, Cynara hisses softly, her pale blue gaze 
  almost enough to lower the temperature of the entire Rialto a degree or two. 
  With an irritated sigh, she lifts a brow at Boden. "Why is she doing that?" 
  she asks him, and then without waiting for an answer, she gestures in the 
  direction Tienne ran off in, "YOu know her hiding places, find her and tell 
  her I -will- speak with her." she tells him, her tone a command and request 
  in one. A glance then goes to Prying-Eagle, then just past him toward the 
  younger healer. Giving them both a nod, she takes a moment to speak with 
  them before she will chase after the wayward outcasts. "Have you found a 
  teacher yet, Imphada?" She asks Faanshi directly.

Boden scratches his head at Tienne's actions and grunts in response to Cynara, 
  "Maybe she's playing a game?" okay so its a stretch, but he's confused 
  again. Boden slips into the crowd of the Rialto and dissappears briefly. As 
  Tienne creeps her way around a tall empyrean she comes nose to nose with 
  Boden and he simply smiles and says 'hi!' with a beep of her nose.

Sebastienne stumbles back a moment and grunts. "Ugh!" She trips up on a wing 
  and curses as she grabs Boden to keep from falling, then kicks it angrily 
  out of the way. "What you doing here? Why you following Cynara around? 
  C'mon, let's go get some food." She tosses a wary look over her shoulder in 
  search of the branded healer, then grabs Boden's arm to hurry him along.

Faanshi has worked bigger healings, burned plague from ailing, weakened 
  bodies, and brought men and women back from wounds that would otherwise have 
  killed them -- and collapsed for hours afterward. Here and now a broken, 
  twisted shoulder has merely sapped her strength. She is still on her feet 
  and not likely to faint, or at least so might be gleaned from the slow and 
  careful way she's holding herself. And thus her huskily whispered "I will be 
  all right soon enough--" may actually be the voice of experience and not 
  just a gentler version of the stoicism that seems part and parcel of the 
  Children of Fire. Her voice dies away, however, at the sight of Cynara 
  before her. There is a pause before she manages to speak again, and when she 
  does her words are hoarse, her eyes dark and tired and nervous above her 
  veil, her hand curling unconsciously into the fur of the dog at her side. 
  "Namaste', Domina Cynara... yes... I have had a teacher for many months 
  now..." Teachers, even. But she won't let herself think about the betrayal 
  of the Imphadi Samein.

"I am sure you will, as soon as I've seen you to safety. I insist", 
  Prying-Eagle says, his voice a bit firmer, but the grin that forms on his 
  lips is somewhat sheepish.. Any chances of escorting the young woman are 
  strongly dimished as he hears that voice, and his head whips around. Yep, 
  it's Cynara. "Domina", he says, trying one of his more winning smiles. Which 
  is a half-grin. He seems to leave her name out for a reason. He looks at the 
  other side, and reaches up to brush some more dusty hair from his face.. 
  Where did Sebastienne go? Oh well.

Cynara's lips curl as she watches Boden find Tienne and beep her nose, amused 
  at their friendship. As long as it -stays- friendship. Her eyes roll, 
  however, when the limp-winged girl drags Cynara's mongrel scout after her. 
  Traitor. Returning her attention toward Faanshi and Prying-Eagle, for the 
  moment before she is going to chase after the little rats, she nods 
  approval. "Good. Good." Samein, now there would be a good name to mention! A 
  student of Cynara's in her Delphic days, and if you wish to speak of 
  betrayal, he is the very one who marred her flawless forehead with this 
  blasted brand she now bears. The winged healer notes the exhaustion of the 
  other healer and tilts her head, "Have you just healed something large?" she 
  asks, then turns her head to keep an eye on Tienne and Boden before they get 
  too far away. Glancing back at Prying-Eagle's greeting, she nods to him. "I 
  trust you got my message?" She asks. But before either of them can answer, 
  she begins moving away, "See her home, Prying-Eagle, she is indeed too 
  weary." She orders him, as if he were obligated to listen, and as if he 
  weren't already insisting. "I will see you both later, right now, I've got 
  somebody who needs a good talking to." And she begins to move into the 
  crowds and towards Tienne and Boden.

Boden takes Tienne's hand tightly in his own, "Ah ... I was uh... just uh... 
  coming the same way as her?" a poor lie, then again he's never been able to 
  lie well to Tienne. "Okay so we were talking..." He shrugs a little and 
  smiles, "What are we getting to eat? Mmmm hey how about some steak... 
  ooh..." He suddenly seems to remember, "Cynara said she wanted to talk to 
  you... dunno bout what though..." Boden laces his fingers into Tienne's own, 
  smiling at her softly.

Sebastienne shivers a little at that and lets out a sigh. "Then we'd better 
  hurry, I have no wish to talk to her. Come." She turns and pulls on the 
  already held hand and starts moving towards the thickest part of the market. 
  She doesn't turn around, that might point out to Cynara that she is trying 
  to escape. As it is now, maybe she just didn't see her.

Cynara does not wait for a reply from the healer or the sylvan, instead, she 
  hurries off in fast pursuit of the limp-winged girl and the little traitor 
  boy. She is fast enough to catch up to the within enough distance to be 
  heard when she commands them in a tone that expects to be obeyed. "Stop." 
  the rumble of a soft growl in the word. "Tienne, come back here."

"I--" That's all Faanshi really has time to say, before Cynara's brisk 
  attention has directed itself elsewhere. She wasn't wobbling before, but at 
  least for a moment as the older healer strides off in pursuit of her quarry, 
  the relief that swamps the halfbreed girl is enough to bring a suspicious 
  weakness to her knees. She squeezes her eyes shut, counts to ten and waits 
  for the unsteadiness to pass, and then remembers that she hasn't managed to 
  elude everyone's attention yet. The Sylvan is still there. Without looking 
  up into his face, Faanshi turns her head back towards him, hoping to assure 
  him into letting her go her own way: "Imphadi" -- Prying-Eagle? her mind 
  wearily notes -- "I am... merely a little shaky, it will pass, it is 
  unworthy of your worry. Do not allow me to distract you from your business 
  of the day..."

Sebastienne halts her steps and closes her eyes as her teeth clench with a 
  nervous gulp. "Damnit." A hardened transformation takes place as Tienne 
  brings her shouldersup and head back, ready to face the onslaught of... well 
  she is ready for almost anything. She turns and looks to Cynara, not moving 
  forward yet. "What do you want Cynara?" A hint of exhasperation sounds off 
  in her voice, but below it is the tremor of fear.

Boden looks between the two Wingers, back and forth and senses the growing 
  hostility, he swallows hard and kisses the idea of a good meal goodbye. His 
  fingers stay laced with Tienne's and he squeezes her hand tightly to remind 
  her that he is there if she needs him and he turns to face Cynara as she 
  approaches

Prying-Eagle nods in response to Cynara's question, and his grin widens 
  slightly, enchancing the more boyish aspects of his visage, as he becomes 
  almost excitedly curious. "That I did. I am looking forward to it. You will 
  not disappointed! " Pale green eyes blink slightly, and he watches Cynara 
  for a moment after he walks away.. He brushes some additional dust off of 
  his clothes.. Well, there's always some dust there it seems. What is it with 
  women? Giving you orders about things you were already about to do? He 
  chuckles softly to himself, shaking his head slowly. He smiles faintly, a 
  bit confused still, as Faanshi speaks to him. "My name is Prying-Eagle by 
  the way. What is your own?" He shakes his head, his jaw setting with a hint 
  of a more stubborn self in within him. "You healed my injured body and saved 
  me from pain. You are not unworthy of anything. " He flashes her a grin, 
  that's a bit roguish, yet slightly sheepish. "Now, will I escort you, or 
  carry you back?"

Cynara's cool eyes focus first upon Boden and then grow colder as they wander 
  toward Tienne's face. Where a moment ago, there was a sort of sardonic 
  amusement at Tienne's attempted escape, the tone the young girl takes washes 
  all traces of it away. A cold regard centers on the girl as Cynara closes 
  the distance between them. "I -want- to know why you are suddenly avoiding 
  me." She replies with a less than friendly tone, giving most who hear it 
  quite a good idea why the girl might want to avoid the branded healer.

As Cynara approaches, Tienne brushes her wings back further behind her and 
  takes a step back. "I.. I'm not. I have just been.." She stops herself 
  before lying to the healer. For one, the woman deserves better, for two, 
  Tienne doesn't want to lose her tongue. "I don't want to talk about it 
  here." She looks down for a moment and fiddles more with her wings. Anyone 
  who might have been looking at them would notice they are looking more 
  scraggly then before, as if again she cared nothing for them.

Boden watches Tienne and Cynara argue briefly and then the raggly wings, 
  "Tienne, your wings, what have you been doing to them?" True lately its 
  usually boden that has to keep her wings in shape and preen them, but he'd 
  at least expect her to keep them clean. He mutters softly, "We should get 
  you a bath..."

And, indeed, Cynara is looking at them. Pale eyes wander over the tattered 
  wings and then back to Tienne's facee. There is no compassion upon Cynara's 
  features, no loving warmth or consolation to the pain Tienne might be 
  experiencing. No. There is only an unsympathetic respect for the girl as a 
  person who makes her own choices. "Very well, shall we go somewhere quieter 
  then?" she asks in an assuming tone, gesturing to the soutwest in the 
  direction of the Siren's Song.

Prying-Eagle. A strange name to ears accustomed to the names of the Varati -- 
  but then, Faanshi doesn't really have a chance to reflect upon her relative 
  lack of familiarity with the naming-ways of the Children of Earth. Her 
  attention is immediately distracted by the rather alarming choice the Sylvan 
  has presented her. Aware that she's made a disconcerting habit of collapsing 
  in random places around Haven only to be carried home in the arms of helpful 
  strangers and deeply embarrassed by the notion of that occurring again, she 
  blushes deeply behind her veil. "That will not be necessary, Imphadi 
  Prying-Eagle," she murmurs then, chagrined, gaze still averted from his own. 
  "I-I... will walk with you, to Atesh-Gah." Kosha wags his tail, recognizing 
  those syllables; they mean Home. And after a beat she appends tinily, "My 
  name is Faanshi."

Atesh-Gah? He has not visited that place in years. Seems there is a new chance 
  for everything. Prying-Eagle smiles faintly again, looking over his shoulder 
  one last time, before starting to walk in the direction of Atesh-Gah.. He 
  still remembers the city. "Faanshi", he repeats softly to himself. It sounds 
  Varati.. She doesn't look very much like Varati though.. Of course, this 
  makes him curious, and he is perhaps looking at her a bit more than he 
  /should/. He has gotten in trouble for less. And his tongue is of course 
  tied in a knot every time he tries to talk to a young woman. What else is 
  new?

Boden ambles toward the southwest.
Boden has left.

Sebastienne walks westward toward Main and Border.
Sebastienne has left.

Cynara makes her way south, toward Seaside.
Cynara has left.

No indeed, this maiden does not quite seem like a Varati really should, in 
  appearance. She is smaller and daintier than their women seem wont to be, 
  her skin lighter -- and there are those green eyes like summer leaves above 
  the silken veil that shrouds the lower half of her face. Their gaze remains 
  demurely averted, though, and thus if she is aware of the stare her former 
  charge is levelling upon her, it cannot be easily read in her face. She 
  begins to move across the marketplace, concentrating on putting one foot 
  before the other, with her self-appointed escort on one side and her dog 
  falling into an easy loping gaze on the other. Morning crowds long ago began 
  to fill the marketplace -- and the merchants who had been eying the earlier 
  commotion now exchange relieved glances as the last few involved people 
  finally move on about their business. But upon none of this does Faanshi 
  comment... and soon enough, despite her evident habit of standing aside to 
  let practically everyone else in the world go past her if she happens to be 
  in someone's way, the north side of the Rialto is achieved.

[And shortly...]

You continue north toward the crossing of Palisade and North.
Palisade and North - Haven
     Some have likened the Varati home to a geode--rough and plain on the 
  outside, while opulence and splendor lie within. Certainly the first part of 
  that analogy is true. The only hint that these buildings house the more 
  prominent members of Varati society are their size. Massive structures loom 
  on either side of the street, crafted from brick, marble, granite, and even 
  metal.
     And here, also, is the grand embassy of the Varati. Only shaping magic 
  could have created such a structure, for it gives the impression of having 
  grown out of the earth itself. Like the others, its decoration is minimal, 
  yet flowing curves and the use of obsidian and marble make such 
  ornamentation unnecessary. Flanked by stone pillars, the entranceway is 
  constantly guarded by sentinels who may as well be stone themselves, so 
  humorless are they. Only guests of the kingdom and ambassadors from other 
  realms may pass within.
     A gate leads out of the city to a road that eventually winds into the 
  distant, northern mountains, though few ever dare venture that far.
Contents:
Prying-Eagle
A strange cloud in the sky
Obvious exits:
Atesh-Gah <AG>  Streets <S,E,W>  Gate <N>

Prying-Eagle's hand lingers lightly on Faanshi's arm, as if ready to support 
  her, would she be about to fall or lose strength. His tongue still seems to 
  be in a knot, despite that his gaze drifts over to her from time to time, 
  curious. Who is the woman? A mysterious that tugs at his mind subtly, but 
  only to grow stronger.. He can't stay away from mysteries. Perhaps it will 
  be his death some day.

That hand on her arm is helpful, for though Faanshi has stoically kept herself 
  in motion, there is nevertheless a subtle unsteadiness to her frame that 
  keenly curious pale eyes upon her can easily observe. Kosha trots along 
  smartly at her side, though he periodically shoots the Sylvan a baleful 
  glance, as if trying to figure out exactly who this man is and what his 
  intentions are towards his beloved healer girl. Faanshi herself says very 
  little as she and her two escorts -- two-legged and four-legged -- make 
  their way northward. Soon enough the neighborhood gives way to the buildings 
  of the Varati and the imposing front gates of their citadel, Atesh-Gah; only 
  then does the girl pause and peek unsurely at her self-elected Sylvan 
  companion. "I live there, Imphadi," she murmurs. "You have seen me safely 
  home... thank you..."

Pale green eyes lift along with Prying-Eagle's chin, as he gazes up at the 
  impressive structures.. How many secrets are hidden in there? Perhaps he 
  will have to find out one day. And get killed for it. He lowers his gaze to 
  Faanshi again, and smiles slowly at her, enchancing that ever growing 
  roguish trait again. It seems to be a slumbering part of him, but seemingly 
  intent to grow. "You're welcome, Imphada Faanshi", he responds. "I am glad 
  to see you back safely. "

It is perhaps fortunate for the maiden that she is a healer and not a telepath 
  -- for that curious stare turned upon the forbidding edifice that it is the 
  home of the God-King himself and the motivation behind it might well send a 
  frisson of uneasy superstition down her spine if she could sense it. As it 
  happens, she's already uneasy at the roguish crooked grin he's trained upon 
  her and the heat it's calling out in her cheeks, though those are mercifully 
  hidden behind her veil. She begins to turn towards the nearby gates, then as 
  if in afterthought glances back and blurts, "Your... shoulder may be weak 
  today, and perhaps tomorrow... I-I am not so great a healer that I could 
  make it strong again so soon. Treat it carefully...!" Those words rush out 
  of her, and then she proffers a hasty "Namaste'," clasping her hands at her 
  breast and bowing slightly over them in what seems to pass for her as 
  farewell.

"It's whole. And you are the one who did it. That is all that matters. You 
  seem to be great enough a healer to me" Prying-Eagle's grin remains, as if 
  he wasn't aware of it. Together with his curious gaze, it creates a slightly 
  odd blend. "But I will be careful.. " He doesn't seem too convinced about 
  that. People rarely /allow/ him to be careful... "Namaste", he responds. 
  Perhaps it is a lucky thing that he can not see the heat on her cheeks, 
  because he seems completely unaware of any reactions he may have on her.

Oh, aye, she's blushing, and the compliments are only making matters worse. 
  Unable to think of anything else useful to say, the shudra girl deems it's 
  time to flee into the citadel. "Come, Kosha, come," she entreats her loyal 
  hound, and gets herself a wagging tail for her efforts as she gestures the 
  big creature along. Faanshi turns to follow the hound, then glances once 
  last time back at the Sylvan, giving him a clear impression of her Varati 
  silks of gold and blue and red...
And her not-Varati green eyes, standing out in contrast.
And then, in moments, she's out of sight.

[End log.]