"Sorely Needed Comfort"

Log Date:
	2/16, 2/21/01

Log Cast:
	Faanshi, Mehul

Log Intro:
	She is hardly the only person in Haven or even within Atesh-Gah to
suffer sorrows -- but still, Faanshi has borne a great number of them with
less than enough time for proper recovery between each blow to her soul.
It has been especially hard as of late, what with the violent, brutal
killing of her young friend Delilah of Clan Messala, whose remains were left
on the shrine of Ushas. Faanshi has had to cope with death before, but this
one has been brought home to her in a particularly agonizing fashion...
and she has begun to despair, certain that this continued loss of those to
whom she grows loss must surely somehow be her fault.
	It has not affected her ability to heal -- not yet, at any rate.
But it has begun to affect Faanshi in other ways, and the Varati man who
hopes to be her future husband cannot help but notice. And strive to give
the troubled young woman the consolation she desperately craves....

*===========================< In Character Time >===========================* 
             Time of day:  Afternoon 
          Date on Aether:  Saturday, November 13, 3907. 
           Year on Earth:  1507 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Waxing Gibbous 
                  Season:  Fall 
                 Weather:  Clear Skies 
             Temperature:  Warm 
*==========================================================================*

An outsider looking in might justifiably accuse Faanshi's life of having a 
  kind of stultifying sameness day in and day out -- but then again, with very 
  few exceptions, no one has ever bothered to point out to the shudra that she 
  has other options besides those of duty available to be pursued. Those few 
  that have occasionally made a case for her doing something enjoyable haven't 
  as of yet been able to do so regularly enough to break her out of the stern 
  habits of work... and thus, even though the afternoon's a comparatively warm 
  one, even though Kosha is frolicking about the garden in hot pursuit of 
  passing birds, and even though she has a reasonably sunny spot in which to 
  sit between the willow trees, Faanshi's mind is solidly upon duty. She sits 
  with legs crossed upon the ground, a small bier of incense lit just before 
  her; her head is bowed, her posture stiff and erect save for a certain 
  subtle hunching of her shoulders.
At the moment, her attempts to meditate are not particularly successful.

"You're unable to relax." a voice comments softly from behind her, rising from 
  its spot within the shade of an overhanging branch, sunshine, dappled, 
  freckling his flawless chocolate features. All but motionless, unaided by 
  his hands which remain folded inf ront of him, Mehul rises slowly from his 
  position upon the ground, careful and ever graceful steps carrying him to a 
  spot behind the maiden Faanshi, where he once more resumes a location upon 
  the grass. "Calm yourself and let go..." he whispers in a soothing and 
  feather soft bass, his hands parting to lift to her shoulders and grip them 
  lightly, beginning a slow and gentle massage.

The soft noise Faanshi makes might almost be one of pain; certainly it's not 
  entirely a noise of pleasure, not when her black-clad frame seems as fraught 
  with tension as it ever is. "I'm... trying," she answers, voice thick with a 
  frustration the stoicism she's been carrying like weights upon her shoulders 
  can't entirely conceal. "It... I'm... I cannot concentrate today...!"

"Shhh... shhh..." Mehul's voice is soft, lingering, a gentle caress of the 
  surprisingly warm afternoon breezes which brushes by her ears in the 
  tenderest of caresses. "Lean back on me..." And he draws closer to the 
  maiden, almost to the point where his chest presses to her back, those 
  massaging hands lightly, but not forcefully, pulling her to him. "What is 
  wrong?"

The sage and the sandalwood have not been doing their job... and Faanshi lets 
  out another tiny sound of frustration even as Mehul cradles her backwards 
  against him. This time, though, that small noise modulates, taking on a hint 
  of surprise and relief before the maiden murmurs behind her veil, "Mehul, 
  do.... have you... e-ever carried so much within you that... you feel you 
  may -- I-I don't know, be consumed with it... if you don't find a way to let 
  it out?"

Brows furrow deeply as Mehul's arms lower themselves from Faanshi's shoulders, 
  finding their way about her waist to hold her snugly to him, offering her 
  his body and his presence, physical and spiritual for comfort and 
  strength... for something to rest upon. "Tell me, my dear Faanshi. Please. 
  Tell me what troubles you..." His head presses forward to the back of hers, 
  his lips coming to rest beside one of her veiled ears.

Where to start? Faanshi makes a small face behind her veil for a moment, but 
  it's tempting, all too tempting, to let herself crumple within those strong 
  shoulders. "I-I have been trying to be strong," she whispers tinily, "as a 
  Daughter of Fire must be... but it grows... difficult sometimes, y-you 
  see... I try to meditate to learn strength but today... I just can't...!" 
  The last word doesn't quite crack, per se, but it does grow more ragged.

Struggling to understand, all Mehul can do is hold Faanshi close to him, 
  gently, snugly, squeezing her affectionately in his arms, sighing softly. 
  "Faanshi, you're one of the strongest people I know. You just underestimate 
  yourself." He kisses the side of her head, where her ear would be exposed 
  were it not for the covering of her sari. "And I am always here... whatever 
  ever strength you need you can draw from me."

"I-I-I want to believe that," the shudra whispers. "Oh, Mehul... I-I... I 
  keep wanting to talk to you, t-to tell you... but..." Faanshi's voice grows 
  tauter, and she shifts slightly in the comforting embrace, desperate to 
  absorb its solid warmth. Her veiled face buries itself against the broad 
  shoulder that supports her, and her voice grows a bit more muffled as she 
  murmurs unhappily, "I'm scared--!"

"A long sigh takes Mehul as he envelopes Faanshi in to his arms, holding her 
  tightly now to him, cradling her and cushioning her, clutching her to him 
  and surrounding her with his warmth and love. "You never need to be scared 
  with me, Faanshi... never. Please. Tell me."

"Every time I try to talk to people," Faanshi murmurs in plaintive tones, 
  "every time... every single time... they go away... I'm scared you'll go 
  away too, Mehul..." With unexpected strength, the shudra's arms clutch a bit 
  closer at the broad dark frame of the man who holds her so tenderly near.

"I am right here Faanshi, right beside you, as I will always be, in body.... 
  and heart and soul." He kisses her head again as he whispers these tender 
  words, softly brushing over her skin and sari in little rolling waves. "Tell 
  me," Mehul insists almost pleadingly. "Please..."

"You... don't think... it's true then?" The words are strained, even as 
  Faanshi tries to make herself deliver them as stoically as possible. But 
  under the continual ministration of those gentle kisses along the top of her 
  head, she's beginning to tremble. "That I'm... cursed?"

"No, I do not." Slowly now, hands lift to that ever beginning to tremble head 
  and pull it back, so that Mehul might find Faanshi's eyes and lock with 
  them, stare deeply in to them, so that his soul and hers, for this time, can 
  be linked as one. "You never need be bound by what has brought you here or 
  by what those about you believe. Your heart, Faanshi... Your heart is what 
  will guide you and tell you who and what you are... You must only listen to 
  it..."

There's always pain in Faanshi's eyes, but as Mehul inexorably cajoles her 
  into lifting them up to meet his own, the shadow of sorrow in them might 
  perchance seem a bit darker than usual, whatever burdens she's carrying 
  closer to her soul than they generally are. "My heart hurts," she admits, 
  "a-a-and it's confused... and it says one thing while my head says 
  another...!"

"Faanshi, please..." Mehul exclaims in a quiet and worried... almost desperate 
  whisper, cupping her face in his hands as he stares down in to her eyes, his 
  own smoldering with invisible charcoal flames... so heates, so passionate... 
  "Tell me... Explain to me..."

She could almost drown in the intensity of the emotion that Mehul trains upon 
  her in his expression and his eyes, and for a few moments, Faanshi does in 
  fact feel almost as though she drowns. But because of that profoundly 
  earnest entreaty, her own eyes begin to turn a touch liquid even as she 
  struggles to put into words the tangle of conflicting emotions within her... 
  because Mehul has asked it of her. "I... keep having bad dreams," she 
  whispers. "I dreamt I-I-I lost you...!"

Nightmares? About losing... him?! Visions flash in to his mind... of rumors... 
  of Hounds... of a shapeshifter part bear, ferret, and eagle... "I'm right 
  here Faanshi..." Mehul breathes, his eyes quivering and smoldering violently 
  as he stares down in to hers... so deeply, holding her head before his. "I'm 
  right here and I love you... and... and... I'm not going anywhere..."

Not that nightmares of loss and abandonment aren't disturbingly common for the 
  shudra -- but she cannot know what flashes within Mehul's thoughts. Her 
  hands come up, though, of their own accord to grip his own. "I-I-I never 
  sleep very well," she miserably admits, sounding almost more embarrassed 
  that she must admit this than she is upset over the actual nightmare. "And 
  it's just been... bad this week... I-I did not want to say, I-I-I am trying 
  to be strong, you see... I'm supposed to find the strength in m-m-m-my 
  Varati blood..."

"Being strong does not mean holding all your feelings and emotions inside, 
  Faanshi..." Mehul says quietly, never once letting his eyes... even if his 
  voice had there for a moment... waver. "Sometimes strength comes from 
  knowing when to let go, knowing when you need help... And I'm here for 
  you... my strength is your strength... always... I love you, Faanshi."

A Warlord has said of Faanshi that he was surprised she had the passion within 
  her to love. Shy is she, and gentle -- but this does not mean that she is 
  without passion. It _does_ mean that she is often scared to show it... 
  especially after it has betrayed her so many times in the past. All too 
  conscious of this is Faanshi now... still, nevertheless, she draws in a deep 
  breath at Mehul's staunchly uttered pledges, his words soaking into her soul 
  like cleansing rain. All at once a bit of that passion she works so hard to 
  suppress escapes her, bringing her up to throw her arms about the big 
  Varati, clinging to him. "Make me believe it," she begs. "Keep telling me, 
  Mehul... till I believe it...!"

A long, lingering, and even shuddering sigh escapes Mehul as Faashi throws her 
  arms areound him, one of great relief and affection, his own enfolding her, 
  one upon her back, the other upon her head, holding her to him, so very 
  close, his face nuzzling against the side of hers, even with a small and 
  occasional kiss. "I love you Faanshi. I love you and I will always be here 
  for you to give you strength when you need it. I love you, Faanshi. I love 
  you..." he continues to repeat.

So simple a thing, the act of speech. But to a maiden who hears such uplifting 
  words so seldom, their effect is profound. Faanshi tenses palpably as the 
  mantra murmured over her begins, but she cannot stand against it. The deep 
  rumbling thrum of Mehul's voice is enough to resonate into her very bones, 
  and it begins to chase the tension from her slender frame while the haven of 
  his arms gives her a place for release she so often denies herself. The 
  maiden has tried to convince herself that tears are weak, and now she tries 
  to withhold them in favor of striving to answer the entreaty Mehul has made 
  of her, that of sharing, that of speaking her pain. Still, though, her eyes 
  grow wet while she whispers into his shoulder in counterpoint to his 
  murmurings, "I-I-I try not to ask for much, not to be proud, but oh Mehul... 
  I get so _lonely_... I just want to h-have friends... w-w-without feeling 
  like I'm breaking the surahs..."

"And nowhere in the Surahs does it say you can not have friends..." Mehul 
  whispers back after one last 'I love you', placing a soft kiss atop her 
  head. "You are such a wonderful and beautiful person... not only inside..." 
  his voice falls softer, filled with passion and affection, "but outside as 
  well... and you deserve so much more. You deserve to be surrounded by people 
  that care about and love you. Friendship does not go against the words of 
  the Amir-al." His arms hold her, enfold her, surround her with his strenght 
  and warmth, feeding it to her, giving her him, his presence, his being...

"Then why does His Holy Father keep taking my friends away?" The words aren't 
  loud, but they're seemingly torn right up out of the depths of the shudra 
  girl, so raggedly does she groan them. "M-my heart mother... Thomas, Milane, 
  Ianthe, Craft, StormBearer... D-Delilah... L... Lyre..." The last name makes 
  her voice crack -- but it also makes her tighten her hold upon Mehul, 
  desperate to assure herself of his solidity and presence.

"Perhaps..." Mehul begins softly, that squeeze upon him pausing his breath 
  within his throat, lowering the lids of his eyes and silencing him, so much 
  emotion flowing through such a simple gesture that it strikes him, to and 
  through the heart. "Strength... Faanshi... The Amir-al wishes you to be 
  strong... And it is only through harships that we learn the true strength 
  and integrity of our character and our hearts. We are the children of fire, 
  steel borne from flame, and if we can not be bent, we can not be broken. 
  This is what he teaches you... a harsh lesson perhaps... but one that will 
  help you... Do not be afraid, Faanshi. Life will come, and life will go, it 
  is an inevitability... so it is to be enjoyed... Do not shy from it."

Her head comes up at that, and for all that her face is veiled and her voice 
  barely more than a whisper, the pain and shame and guilt that shadow 
  Faanshi's eyes are almost as black a shroud as the one that hides her 
  features... and at the same time more than expressive enough to make up for 
  what the smoky gauze conceals. "What if the steel is tainted?" she breathes 
  hoarsely. "Tainted steel breaks in the forge...!"

Faanshi's head is taken then, held softly, clasped on either side by two 
  massive and attentive hands, careful in their guidance and caresses from 
  fingers that reach out slowly to rub lightly at exposed flesh, that which 
  rests beneath those beautiful, if disturbed eyes. "Then the flame shall 
  cleanse it, and it will grow strong." is his reply, and despite it, veil or 
  no in place, he leans down, planting upon her covered lips a kiss, so 
  tender, yet so passionate briefly before pulling back to gaze down upon her.

He believes, sweet merciful Mother, he believes. Faanshi's eyes squeeze shut 
  as that proclamation hits her -- and then her hand's coming up, pulling her 
  veil out of her way, baring the fragile lines of her features to be drunk in 
  by Mehul's charcoal stare. "Kiss me again," she begs, and the tiny volume of 
  her voice does absolutely nothing to diminish the force with which she 
  utters those three short words.

Never will Mehul be one to disobey such a demand. He stares at her for but a 
  moment, absorbing her features her contours, every line and curve of her 
  cheeks, chin, and lips, watching how they part when she speaks, how they 
  pucker when they come together... And then there are her eyes... those he 
  grips as tightly as he would his last breath of life, engulfing and 
  swallowing them, and in turn, being swallowed by them. But this is said and 
  done, for he leans, his mouth finding her own, and he shares with her that 
  same kiss, yet again so tender, and yet again so passionate, but lingering, 
  this time remaining where flesh meets fleesh in such a soft embrace... his 
  arms about her, holding her to him.

It can hardly be said that Faanshi is wise in the ways of affection displayed 
  between men and women -- but there _is_ something that might be uttered for 
  the emotion roiling within her system providing will enough to make up for 
  what her own innocence causes her to lack. She is not brave enough, even 
  now, to _say_ that she loves him... yet, with the almost fierce way she 
  clings to Mehul's muscled frame, her head bending back so that he may draw 
  deeply from her with his kiss, her small and slender form veritably shouts 
  the breadth and height of her need for what he now gives her. Tainted though 
  her blood may be... gentle a lamb of a shudra she might be... but if one 
  peers within deeply enough, there is a fire in Faanshi, and for once in the 
  shelter of Mehul's arms she lets it flare into life.

And what she allows him... Mehul shares with the shudra. He does not take, no. 
  There is no taking here within this embrace where the rest of the world has 
  fallen away, scattered as broken shards of glass to the endless oblivion of 
  unconcern. For now, there is only this, and this is only what is. He lips 
  against her own, his heart beating in time, his form molding, melding with 
  her movements as he clutches her to him and shares with her the breath which 
  is his life, his soul through this kiss, ever passionate, and ever tender. 
  He does not release, he can not release. Coherency and Rationality are ideas 
  long since abolished.

Within the maiden there is a small space left for thought -- just enough to 
  let the words that Mehul has breathed over her sink in, take root, take 
  hold. One of her delicate hands comes up to bury itself in his hair; the 
  other remains wrapped about him, while she loses herself within the ardor of 
  what has blazed up between them. But at last she must pull away, for she 
  must breathe. And even though she does not speak, even now, the man who 
  holds her so tenderly close can see in her face the effects his pledges have 
  had. Tears still glisten in her eyes... but for once, like a glory of 
  sunlight breaking through clouds...
Faanshi _smiles_.

[End log.]