"A Solemn Escort Home"

Log Date:
	6/11, 6/12/01

Log Cast:
	Faanshi, Geridan, Kerani

Log Intro:
	Once again, Faanshi has had to deal with the death of a man she
loves.
	The first time, however, she learned of it only via the vision of
a young seeress; this time, she has witnessed the death firsthand, during 
her sojourn among the Ettowealona in the forests to the west of Haven. 
Moreover, it has come in the form of execution upon the discovery that the 
Varati man Mehul has been responsible for slaying innocent graisha--and Faanshi 
has stood witness to his head being sundered from his shoulders.
	And it has been too much.
	Memories driven from Faanshi's brain by the illness she suffered
as a result of the poison that had been unleashed upon the revelers at the
Dipavali festival have begun to return to her, thanks to the shock of what
she has seen--but at the same time, all else has retreated as her heart and
soul cringe away from one blow too many from death.
	All she has room for within her mind is the conviction that she must
return to Haven, now that she has remembered her true identity. But she does
not know that one who was present at the execution of Mehul is not about to
let her walk back to the city alone....

----------
By now the sun is well and thoroughly risen... but for the maiden setting 
  herself a solitary course out of the woods, the warmth of Ashur Masad is 
  relegated into the mounting sense of numbness sweeping over her entire 
  being. With every step Faanshi takes, a memory slips back into place -- but 
  with each one's return, the numbness spreads further across her heart. 
  Somewhere inside it seems to her that she should surely feel _something_... 
  but there is nothing but the numbness. A hollowness where her heart should 
  be, with nothing there but the sight of a sword slashing through the dark 
  neck of a man she loved, seared like a brand into her soul.
Kosha slinks along beside her, following her willingly, though the poor hound 
  understands little of what has just transpired and little of what transpires 
  _now_ save that his beloved mistress is on the move. He whines hopefully, 
  though, his ears pricking up, at the sound of her voice.
"I expect they will be displeased with us, Kosha. I will have to hope that the 
  Maharani will not mind if I put on proper clothing first when we get back."

"Faanshi." The voice comes from behind her... from a Varati man, the only one 
  within the Sylvan territories now. "Faanshi, I am Geridan Kentari Rashid, 
  Advisor and Haven Representative to Clan Rashid..." The formal title trails 
  off as the man comes to a halt a few paces behind her, having persued, 
  gliding easily along the ground... and still clutching the now-healed wound 
  upon his chest. "You know my wife, Kerani... she is a student of yours... 
  But I have come to escort you back to Haven, to ensure your safe passage 
  back to the city and in to the waiting arms of the Amir-al and Maharani." 
  The gloved hand rests with unease upon the hilt of his blade, which has been 
  reclaimed and sheathed.

Kosha hears the man coming before Faanshi does, but the maiden catches the 
  footsteps a second or two later. She does not stop, though. Only when her 
  name is called and Geridan identifies himself does she slow down and glance 
  up at the warrior who has come after her -- and the same numbness that has 
  seized her inner heart manifests itself in her summer-green eyes as she 
  lifts their gaze only high enough to mark his location. "Please forgive me 
  for not recognizing you, Imphadi," she murmurs then, tonelessly, her 
  attention returning to the path she walks. "I have not been myself."

Ok, he had deserved that, and Geridan's head bows down in silent apology. 
  "Imphada, your escort awaits. We shall bring you back to Haven, with a stop 
  at my home so that you might find yourself some traditional garb before you 
  come to meet our God-King and Queen." Slow strides carry him forward then, 
  deliberately paced and careful - his natural grace seems to be without him 
  at the moment, and though some of it lingers, there is effort in his 
  motions. "If you would permit me..."

Addressed with respect, Faanshi glances again at Geridan, the mask of absolute 
  expressionless that has fallen across her delicate features marring ever so 
  slightly, in what might almost be bemusement -- but it is fleeting, and as 
  soon as her brows knit together they smooth out again. "I am but a shudra, 
  Imphadi Rashid," she says then, her tone deferential and humble now... yet 
  strangely remote. "And do not deserve the honorific." A pause, then, both 
  vocal and physical, as the girl stops her walking and seems to consider.
And then: "But I would be grateful for the opportunity to make myself 
  presentable for the Quee--"
Wait a minute.
And then: "The... Amir-al is in Haven?"

The head remains bowed for quite a moment longer before his gaze lifts, his 
  entire body righting and strengthening with it while he nods. "Yes. He has 
  returned to deal with some problems that have arisen in your absence. But I 
  am certain he and the Maharani will be delighted to see you home again." 
  Resolution returns to the Warriors voice and stance as he addresses the 
  woman, his mind, however, in an endless roll that burns within the 
  crystalline of his eyes. It was not respect he was giving her... but apology 
  for the act he commited... He took the life of a killer... when he... who 
  has fought in so many battles, has probably slain more than Mehul could hope 
  to. One breath rises from his chest above the rest, but that is it, confined 
  and secured.

It may have been meant as apology, but it seems to make little impact upon the 
  healer maiden. Indeed, all in the warrior's words that seems to bring even a 
  hint of alteration to her detached expression is a faint trace of bemusement 
  at the notion that the Queen, not to mention the God-King, would be 
  _delighted_ to see her. Then her gaze slides inward for a moment, and she 
  murmurs as if to herself, "I must ask His forgiveness... perhaps He will not 
  be angry..."
Then the veil of detachment, as palpable as if she were wearing an actual 
  veil, falls once more across her features. Faanshi does not meet the 
  crystalline gaze upon her, but makes no effort to hide her face from 
  Geridan, no effort to disguise that while his eyes might carry his inner 
  fire, hers carry... nothing at all.

And it frightens him... It frightens him because it is a gaze he knows very 
  well... A gaze he woke up to every morning for years when he stared in to a 
  mirror or at his reflection in a pond... mostly the latter because a home 
  was seldom ever found among his wanderings. "We should make haste." he says 
  at last, those orbs of churning fire not leaving hers for an instant, as 
  glued to them unwillingly as they are forced to be by his own conscious 
  thought. "We have a horse for you as well, so that the return will be more 
  comfortable and less taxing upon you." For surely this as left her 
  drained... something he apparently prepared for.

Her empty eyes turn their gaze away then, as Faanshi glances about as if 
  searching for this alleged horse. For just a fraction of an instant there 
  might be something else there, a hint that perhaps she is bemused by this 
  notion of consideration for her comfort, but all she says is a quiet "I do 
  not know how to ride, Imphadi, but in the interests of haste I will try to 
  hold on to the saddle."

A slight frown tugs at the corner of Geridan's tightly drawn lips. He hadn't 
  thought that she might not be able to ride. "If you find it uncomfortable, 
  you may walk, but I thought it might rather ride." A gloved hand lifts from 
  the hilt of his sword, and slowly, he gestures out toward the edge of the 
  glen, where the horse and escort wait, not alowed to enter as he was. For 
  while this Warrior of Rashid is Inkana to Soft-Feather, anyone else is but a 
  stranger with a weapon./

"I will bear any discomfort," Faanshi says absently, "for I have been gone too 
  long from Atesh-Gah and must beg the Maharani's forgiveness. This will make 
  it faster and I thank you." With that, then, the maiden begins to walk once 
  more, given a new direction. Her feet place themselves mechanically one 
  before the other, and as she goes, the dog falls into place once more at her 
  heel. It is enough to get Faanshi to glance down at him, and again even if 
  fleetingly her numbed countenance admits a slight ghost of sentiment, a 
  wraith of her affection for her treasured hound. "Kosha will not be able to 
  keep up with horses, Imphadi. Do you have someone who will bring him back to 
  Atesh-Gah?"

Yet another thing he hadn't taken in to account... Perhaps it wasnt so wise to 
  take off so suddenly... Geridan's brows furrow as his gaze shifts to the 
  animal, studying it carefuly... The dog that had attacked him and nearly 
  cost him his life. But he holds no ill will to it, after all, it is just a 
  pet. "He should be fine. We will be moving slow enough that your escort can 
  keep up as well." After all, she is the only one on horseback. Even Geridan 
  himself will be walking or running alongside her as they make their way back 
  to Haven. It is her comfort that he had in mind when he brought the horse 
  along.

That seems to be enough to assure the shudra, then, and she says nothing else 
  as she accompanies the warrior to where the rest of his men await. Tired she 
  may well be... drained she must be, surely, both from the power she has 
  unleashed upon him and upon Soft-Feather, and from the bloodshed she has 
  just witnessed. But she gives absolutely no sign of it. Faanshi merely 
  stoically proceeds towards the waiting men, seemingly even oblivious to 
  whatever odd attention her current attire, her unbound hair, and her bared 
  face might get her.

Fortunately, it is nothing he had not warned anyone to expect. The image, 
  while it does draw a wide eye perhaps, is not so disturbing as such, and her 
  escort remains comparitively stoic as well, standing tall and firm at the 
  horse that awaits both her and Geridan's arrival... an air of silence about 
  them. The only sound is that of the neighing of the beast and its occasional 
  counting, stamping hooves.

Only when she draws near the horse itself does Faanshi stop again, looking up 
  to the equine to consider it solemnly; then, she swivels her head back 
  towards Geridan, though again without quite looking up fully into his face. 
  "May I ask for your instruction in how to mount, Imphadi?" she asks, brow 
  furrowing ever so slightly in self-directed consternation. "I... cannot seem 
  to remember whether Thomas showed me how to mount his horse."
Thomas. One of the Lost Ones. The first, in fact. Faanshi's gaze goes distant 
  again, while Kosha at her side swings a perplexed canine regard between the 
  horse and the man who has led them here.

"Certainly..." Geridan replies, moving past her over to the large animal. The 
  escort does eye Faanshi a little wearily now... noticing not the difference 
  in her garb... but within her voice and her eyes. There is a change there 
  that they can not help but note, and they look to Geridan with a touch of 
  concern as he kneels down, cupping his hands together. "Use my hands as a 
  step, put onle foot on them and then swing your other leg over the horses 
  back and take hold of it." This way is the easiest he figures.

Though something crucial appears to have shut down behind Faanshi's eyes, at 
  least for the time being that does not seem to include her comprehension or 
  her reason. She bobs her dark head a single time at the kshatri man's 
  instruction, stepping forward to place a bare foot into his supporting hands 
  and using it as the lever needed to clamber up into the saddle. It does not 
  require much of an effort to hoist her up -- she is small, this girl, for a 
  Daughter of Fire. And not without some grace, though it seems to take her a 
  few moments before she has figured out how to balance herself upon the 
  horse's back.
Kosha, for his part, whurfs unsurely; what is this, that Faanshi is getting 
  upon the Big Creature? The sound of him draws the maiden's attention again, 
  and though she does not smile, though her eyes do not lighten, her voice for 
  the dog is soft and gentle. "Be at peace, Kosha. We are going home."

A nod is given first to Faanshi, then to the dog and he attempts to actually 
  speek to it, his voice slow and rumbling, surprisingly soothing. "She will 
  be fine, boy." he sings deeply to it. "Come along." He then turns to give 
  the escort the signal to begin moving, taking hold of the horses reins 
  himself and beginning to bring it forward with a few clicks of his tounge. 
  The beast begins to move... and so the procession heads back to Haven... 
  back... home.

Kosha seems to take more assurance from Faanshi than he does from Geridan, not 
  surprisingly -- and even as the horse falls into an obliging walk at his 
  master's behest, Faanshi lets off that soft three-note whistle of hers, her 
  signal to call her dog. Thusly assured, the big canine breaks into a loping 
  stride alongside the horse, willing enough to accept this new situation as 
  long as it means he gets to remain near his mistress.
As for his mistress, true to her word, she endeavors to hang securely on to 
  her place in the saddle. It is apparent she is indeed untrained in riding, 
  for her stance speaks mutely of awkwardness with this mode of transport. But 
  she voices no discomfort whatsoever, and indeed, for the longest time she 
  says nothing at all, even as the Varati men lead her out of the woods and 
  into the farmlands west of the city.

[And after much of the journey has passed...]

The journey back has been a long one, borne mostly in silence as the escort 
  marched, its gaze straight forward, alongside the horse-carried Faanshi. 
  There was truly nothing much to say, for what was done was done, and none, 
  even the bravest of Rashid's Warriors, had the courage to raise a voice and 
  discuss what had transpired- or anything for that matter, for fear of 
  brushing across the topic indirectly. No, this was a time to treat with the 
  solemn respect of silence, the wtinessing of a passing, and ending of a 
  life, and the changing of another forever. Mehul, The Graisha Hunter, is 
  dead.
But now they have arrived home, back to the city of Haven, and the escort has 
  left them at the doors of the Gem Inn. Geridan has lead the shudra maiden 
  this far, and it will not be long before she stands before the Amir-al and 
  Maharani, but first, she must be cleaned and given garb that would be more 
  traditional. She must be ready, and it might do her good to see a familar 
  face... a female familar face.

Kerani is, as expected, at home - behaving and not seriously exerting herself, 
  as Geridan would certainly want. She's quietly concerned for her husband and 
  clansmen, particularly with what she learned about how dangerous Mehul was, 
  but likewise has confidence that what should happen, will happen. And so, 
  with Zahir fast asleep in his crib nearby, she sits in the living room, 
  busying herself with threads, practicing what little weaving she was able to 
  learn from her own mother.

Somewhere in the midst of the numb gray cloud that has wrapped itself about 
  her mind, Faanshi supposes she should be grateful for the silence of the men 
  of Clan Rashid. It means she needs to say nothing herself, needs to do 
  absolutely nothing except hang onto the saddle of the horse that carries 
  her. The shudra healer might well be somewhere else entirely, for all the 
  noise she makes as Geridan's mount bears her back into the city; even the 
  sight of Haven itself provokes no reaction from her. Only the occasional 
  hopeful yip from Kosha is enough to capture her attention, but even to the 
  dog, she does not speak. Nor does she smile.

When night falls and the party reaches the Gem Inn at last, even then the 
  shudra shows no sign of relief at the end of a journey, or any other sort of 
  reaction. Odd looks given her from those who serve and work in the place go 
  unnoticed as she walks like a ghost where Geridan encourages, up the stairs 
  on her bare feet to the suite his family keeps. And only when a serving girl 
  protests Kosha's anxious attempt to follow her up the stairs does she rouse 
  enough to say the first words she's uttered in hours:
"If the hound disturbs the Imphadi Rashid or others here, you may beat me, and 
  throw Kosha and me out. He will behave."
That's it. But it's apparently enough to secure Kosha permission to follow her 
  up, and the dog wags his tail in hopeful assurance as the girl accompanies 
  her escort into his rooms.

The door to the Kentari Suites glides open at the hand of a Varati Warrior 
  with eyes of burning sapphire. It is thus held open and he waits, patiently 
  for the shudra maiden Faanshi to walk in before closing the door. But even 
  he, as concerned as he is with the halfbreed woman and the need to return 
  her home, can not resist the urge to sweep over in but a few quick strides 
  toward Kerani, to take her up in to his arms and to kiss her. He nearly died 
  not a day ago, but he is not about to tell her that, even if some of it is 
  communicated through the ways his lips press so fiercly against hers. 
  "Faanshi..." he says at last, turning to her, one arm still about the waist 
  of his wife. "This is Kerani..." He says it softly, not wanting to insult 
  her memory should she remember, but wanting to help if she does not.

Kerani rises quietly as the door opens. She manages a bright smile upon seeing 
  Geridan - but that smile disappears upon seeing Faanshi. Shocked, she 
  regards the poor shudra lamb in Sylvan garb for a moment. Without saying 
  anything, she hugs her husband, tightly for a moment, and returns the kiss 
  of greeting. Moments later, her eyes turn back to her ertswhile instructor. 
  "Faanshi...?" she asks softly, a prompting more than anything else.
Incidentally, even if Faanshi's keen healer senses doesn't pick up on it 
  first, the fairly prominent swell to her abdomen speaks volumes.

One sungolden hand points to a place near the door of the suite, and the 
  halfbreed murmurs, "Stay, Kosha," to the big hound. He promptly lies down 
  there, big liquid eyes fixed upon Faanshi, and apparently he is content to 
  stay right there. The journey has, after all, been long -- and the loyal dog 
  has walked the entire distance from the woods.
Faanshi then turns her attention to the young woman Geridan introduces, and at 
  the utterance of both Kerani's name and her own, she lifts her gaze up to 
  the other female's face. Her overall appearance is certainly shocking, from 
  her unbound hair to her unveiled face, from the doeskin dress in which she 
  is garbed down to her bare feet... but what may well seem most not-Faanshi 
  about her entire person is the way she looks straight at Kerani, empty-eyed, 
  and the way her soft voice does not waver on a single syllable.
"Namaste', Imphada Kerani," she says gravely. Her tone is perfectly civil, as 
  deferential as a shudra's should be... but nevertheless, there is something 
  detached and remote about it. "I see that the Holy Mother blesses you with 
  another coming child; congratulations. Please forgive me coming before you 
  in this state."

Kerani
        This dusky-skinned young woman seems to barely be more than a girl, 
  with her smooth features and youthful vibrance - perhaps in her mid to late 
  teens. She stands at six feet, with the slender but solid build typical of 
  Varati women. Her dark brown eyes almost seem to shine with an inner fire, 
  and her wavy black hair flows to rest between her shoulderblades. 
        She is clad in a simple, snow-white silk robe that covers her from 
  neck to ankles - Though the robe flows about her loosely, it does not hide 
  the swelling to her lower abdomen. White slippers cover her feet. A veil of 
  translucent white covers the front of her face, held in place by a silver 
  chain about her head, and leaving her eyes unveiled. From each of her 
  earlobes hangs a simple silver hoop earring, circles about a finger wide 
  each. Around her neck are three silver necklaces - one of tiny links, one of 
  small chain, and one of larger chain. A tear-shaped, amber-red jewel hangs 
  from her neck on a thin silver chain. A small-chain necklace of less vibrant 
  metal supports a beautiful amethyst charm just below her neckline. On each 
  arm, she wears a pair of silver bracelets, one smaller than the other. Set 
  into the smaller bracelet on her left hand is a tear-shaped amber-red jewel.

Faanshi
     What is she?
     The most obvious thing to draw the eye to this maiden, the crowning ebon 
  glory that is her hair must surely come straight from the Children of Fire 
  -- and so, too, must the hue of her skin, a warm dark gold that speaks of 
  the blaze of Ashur Masad's light upon generations of her forebears. Yet she 
  is paler than many Varati, and standing as she does at only 5'9", she is 
  small for a woman of that race. With a slender, delicate build that makes 
  her seem in form akin to a young tree, she can be judged too dainty to pass 
  easily for Varati or even Mongrel. Shy or 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 nature of her voice. And she carries herself 
  such that the thick curly mass of her black hair seems to serve as a natural 
  veil, hiding much of her countenance from easy view -- but when she does 
  chance to peek out from behind the strands that fall across her face, the 
  clearest of signs that the Children of Earth also had a hand in her making 
  can be seen. Her eyes, set at an un-Varati-ish slant, are the color of 
  summer leaves... and unmistakably Sylvan.
     At the moment she is clad in very simple garb indeed: a dress of soft 
  worked doeskin hide, a pale brown against her sungolden skin. In deference 
  to the season, to go with it, her feet sport equally simple doeskin 
  moccasins -- and in further deference to the season, she is rarely far from 
  a fur blanket serving double duty as a cloak for her slender frame. Her hair 
  has been brushed out and washed, falling in a loose curly river of black 
  along her shoulders and down her back.
     Signs of recent illness still linger faintly about her person -- at 
  least, in her tentative motions and the occasional lost look in her eyes. 
  But on the whole the maiden seems hale enough, and meets the world with a 
  strangely open and guileless regard, almost as if everything she sees, and 
  everyone, is entirely new to her experience.

Whether or not she has come to recognize his wife, Geridan does not know. That 
  detatched familarity with which she speaks veils the truth of her emotions 
  from her words, and so, it leaves Geridan confused, his brows brought down 
  between his eyes as he nods slowly. "She is going to help you find some more 
  traditional garb and get ready to meet the Maharani and Amir-al." He then 
  pats the back of Kerani, motioning her forward toward the shudra lamb, 
  giving both of them a small and encouraging smile.

Kerani watches Faanshi quietly. The whole picture - the tone of voice, the 
  detached expression, the foreign wear - takes a few moments for the young 
  matron to digest, until Geridan's gentle touch brings her back to the 
  present. Following directions, that she can do without much conscious 
  thought, particularly when she hears who the shudra is going to speak with. 
  "Ah, yes..." she says softly. A few moments thought, she says, "We'll need 
  to get you cleaned up, and find something appropriate...."

"If you will show me where I may bathe, Imphada," says the shudra, shifting 
  her gaze off the other woman's face and staring now with her stoic gaze at 
  nothing in particular, "and if you could provide me with something befitting 
  a shudra to wear, I will be most grateful. I will go straight to Atesh-Gah 
  when I am presentable; I will not need to borrow your attire for long. And I 
  will wash it when I am done." As she speaks, she stands there with a pose as 
  remote as her voice; paradoxically, there is a strange lack of tension in 
  Faanshi's slender frame, and she stands straighter than usual, as if for 
  once she is not even paying attention to trying to make herself look as 
  inconspicuous as possible.

There is a squeeze upon Kerani's shoulder. He could not have prepared her for 
  this, the effects of what happened upon the shudra lamb, but he is there to 
  reassure his wife and he nods to her to proceed. "I will fix something for 
  you to eat when you are done bathing." he adds with a nod and smile, moving 
  without hesitation in to the kitchen and leaving the two women alone... 
  Perhaps, without a male presence she will relax and Kerani will be able to 
  speak to her... to reach her someway, somehow... Geridan sighs as he leaves, 
  shaking his head, and sets himself to preparing some simple food.

Kerani watches Faanshi quietly as the shudra lamb speaks. The young Ushasti 
  certainly wasn't ready for something like this, and can easily tell that 
  asking what's wrong will not be helpful. This isn't exactly how she had in 
  mind to rid Faanshi of her tendency to try not to draw attention, after all. 
  She looks to her husband, and smiles. "Thank you, Geridan," she says softly 
  - most any other time, she would insist on being the one to prepare the 
  food. Turning back to Faanshi, she sighs softly. "I can put together some 
  appropriate clothing. I'd rather have you properly presentable to the 
  Amir-al than rush to get ready. Come with me." Her beckoning falls well 
  short of a command, almost more like a request without being horribly firm, 
  as she starts toward one of the doors in the suite.

"If you think it best, Imphada, though it does not seem to me that He would 
  wish to see me. If He has come to Haven, surely He has more important 
  matters to which to attend."
Wait a minute. Since when did Faanshi offer an unprompted opinion on 
  _anything_?
She does it again, though, even as she follows the taller, younger woman as 
  bidden. "But I must be suitably attired for the Maharani. I do not think she 
  would approve of doeskin." Now, for a fraction of an nstant, the halfbreed 
  pauses and runs a hand against the bodice of the extremely simple dress she 
  wears. It is not unpleasing in appearance; it is certainly not a ragged 
  garment, nor even particularly dirty. But still... the undyed leather and 
  the simple stitchery and cut of it make it undeniably _Sylvan_. In it, 
  Faanshi seems a different creature entirely... and if the freedom of her 
  motions is any indication, she had grown accustomed to wearing it.

In the Kitchen, little noise can be heard, particularly as the pair of women 
  travel out of earshot, out of the adjascent living room. There, Geridan 
  busies himself, taking out plates and assorted foods, trying to use what 
  little cooking knowledge he has, and has learned from Kerani, to prepare 
  something edible for the newly-returned shudra maiden.

Kerani quirks an eyebrow. Well, she thought that this would be a fairly 
  regular day, but it's turned out to be anything but. Not that Faanshi 
  actually figuring out how to voice her opinions is a bad thing, just 
  entirely unexpected. The trick is figuring out how to keep it without 
  causing problems. After a moment to absorb this latest shock, she offers 
  Faanshi her gentle, good-natured smile. "That is a decision for him to make, 
  not me. Surely, though, the Maharani will be glad to see you returned." She 
  reaches the bath, entering first and waiting for Faanshi to enter before 
  closing the door behind the pair. "First, let's get you cleaned up."

For a moment or two Faanshi considers Kerani and her words, her brow crinkling 
  in consideration, as she steps into the bath along with her. The faintest of 
  expressions crosses her delicate features, one of just-visible bemusement, 
  at this notion that Thalia Tritonides Khalida would be glad to see her. "I 
  suppose," she allows then, still keeping that guilelessly detached tone, 
  "that she will be satisfied I am able to resume my service, if she forgives 
  me for my absence." As she speaks she begins to unlace the dress, the ease 
  of her fingers with the leather lacings another signal that she had indeed 
  grown used to wearing this garb.

Kerani catches herself before she sighs. It's easy to forget sometimes, with 
  how mature Kerani acts most of the time, that she's still just barely 
  nineteen years of age. Even so, she has to remind herself to be patient now 
  and again - right now, patience will do much more good. "I am certainly glad 
  to see you back," she says, sincerely, as she starts readying the bath while 
  Faanshi disrobes.

There's not much disrobing to do -- the dress is easily shed, as are the scant 
  undergarments of soft linen, left undyed, like the leather dress. Faanshi 
  stands there as innocent as a fawn, waiting for the younger woman to signal 
  that she may enter the water, seemingly untroubled by the baring of her 
  sungolden skin to Kerani's sight -- or perhaps oblivious to it. It is 
  difficult to tell, with the uncanny calm that seems to have claimed her 
  being. Innocent, too, is the gaze that seeks Kerani's at that earnest 
  proclamation. And innocent is Faansi's one-word response: "Why?"

Kerani pauses briefly in her task to look up toward Faanshi. At least Faanshi 
  still has her innocence, even if it's a little bolder than it used to be - 
  again, not entirely bad, in present company. "Because I've missed you, and 
  I've been worried about you since Dipavali," she says gently. A moment 
  later, she shifts topic back to business at hand - literally by testing the 
  water with her hand. "That should be warm enough...?" she prompts.

Oh. The halfbreed cants her head thoughtfully for a moment, then answers, her 
  softly deferential tone never wavering, "The Imphada honors me with her 
  concern and I am grateful." With that she steps forward on her bare dainty 
  feet to climb into the bath, and although she does not smile, although there 
  is absolutely no alteration of her vacant gaze, a subtle easing of her 
  features suggests that at least somewhere behind the mask of unnatural 
  tranquility, she is actually appreciative of an opportunity to submerge 
  herself in warm, clean water. Once in, she ducks her head forward to wet the 
  curly mass of her raven hair...
... revealing, as she does so, the mutilated remains of what were once her 
  ears, now two misshapen bits of tissue perhaps half the size that ears 
  should be.
And then they vanish again beneath her dark tresses, as she brings her head up 
  once more and stares up at Kerani through the dampened strands that fall 
  across her eyes. "Were there others made ill by the Festival? I should ask 
  the Maharani if I may have leave to heal them."

Kerani relaxes a bit as Faanshi shows the slight sign of her own relaxation. 
  And just as she starts to feel relaxation, she spots the halfbreed's damaged 
  ears. Self-control or not, Kerani widens her eyes, likely noticably - did 
  the Sylvans do that to her? Unlikely, she tells herself, but then what did? 
  And why couldn't she sense it? Deciding that now's not the best time to 
  think on it, and indeed missing that Faanshi's being unusually inquisitive, 
  she replies, "Many others were made ill, but the poison proved resistant to 
  magic, even to Delphi's skilled healers. I believe an antidote has been 
  found, though it took months to finally discover." Months where she added 
  what knowledge of herbs and fungus she has, aided by a Sylvan friend's 
  vision.

The shudra maiden's inquisitive streak of the moment seems to extend to 
  looking for soap and commencing to wash herself with it, as well. As she 
  does so, she bobs her head a single time to Kerani's words, saying, "It is 
  well, then. I will submit my magic to the Maharani's command, if she knows 
  of any who will permit me to heal them with it, who the Atarvani or Delphi 
  have not yet reached." Scrub, scrub, scrub. Lather begins to rise up from 
  her efforts... and then she pauses, brow once more furrowing in thought as 
  she considers Kerani again. "_You_... are a healer, are you not, Imphada? I 
  remember this."

Kerani blinkblinks guilelessly, totally taken off-guard from that 
  gently-placed question. After a moment, it sinks in - she doesn't remember, 
  does she? "I ... I am, Faanshi. You had taught me a few lessons in Healing 
  before Dipavali." She quickly thinks. "Picturing the concept of redness and 
  other colors, for example." She tilts her head, hoping that she strikes a 
  chord, and a pleasant one at that.

The halfbreed girl muses upon this, a heavy handful of her lathered hair 
  propped up in her fingers; then, again she nods, slowly. "Yes. I think that 
  I remember speaking with you about your magic." A beat. Two. Then she goes 
  on, "I must ask the Imphada's forgiveness; there are holes in my memory that 
  have not yet filled. I did not recognize your honored husband, when I first 
  saw him, though now I believe I remember that I have been here before." And 
  with that, she resumes her efforts with her hair, working the soap through 
  the thick dark mass of it all.

Kerani nods slowly as Faanshi confirms her suspicions. She smiles gently and 
  nods. "No forgiveness is necessary," she says. "You have been here before, 
  on a couple occasions, yes." The Ushasti's devious mind clicks on a related 
  thought, but it'll have to wait until Faanshi's out of the bath. "We've 
  spoken on many occasions, you and I."

One might almost mistake Faanshi for a kshatri, with the unconscious ease of 
  her current bearing, at least if one did not take into account the blankness 
  of her eyes. But no kshatri maiden, surely, would be so swift in the bath. 
  Faanshi does not take very long with her hair at all, and once she has 
  thoroughly lathered it she ducks underwater to rinse it. When she comes up 
  again she can be heard to murmur from behind the wet curtain of black, 
  "Again the Imphada honors me. When I have spoken with the Maharani and 
  learned if my duties have changed, I will speak with you more about magic, 
  if you wish it." *Splish*, then, down she goes once more for a second 
  rinsing.

Kerani smiles gently, waiting for Faanshi to reemerge before she replies. "I 
  would most certainly, if your duties allow," she replies. She then turns 
  toward the door. "Let me retrieve something for you to wear for when you are 
  dry." She gestures toward a cloth towel set near the bath before gently 
  slipping out of the bathroom.

With the same swift efficiency, Faanshi scrubs down the rest of her body; it 
  is as if she has never learned that a bath can be an opportunity for 
  relaxation and pleasure, and so she does not dawdle with the bath now. A 
  third rinsing is required for her hair, and then she stands up in the water, 
  beginning to work at squeezing excess moisture out of the ebon curls; when 
  she has done enough of that, she obediently takes up the towel and wraps 
  herself within it before she emerges entirely from the bath. It is thus that 
  Kerani might perhaps find her again as she returns, with the towel wrapped 
  about her almost sari-style while Faanshi combs her hair out with her 
  fingers.

Kerani is coming out of the master bedroom when Faanshi exits the bathroom. 
  The young matron of the household gestures Faanshi toward her with one arm, 
  before returning to the otherwise unoccupied bedroom. Draped over the other 
  arm are neatly-folded lengths of red and gray.

All of which are accepted with the same vacant-eyed calm. Faanshi accepts what 
  clothing is given her, murmuring responses that are certainly gratefully 
  phrased -- though delivered with that tone of detachment to each and every 
  syllable. As she had done in the bath, so do does she do with clothing 
  herself: she may be as at ease as a kshatri girl right now, but she is 
  shudra. She bathes herself, and she dresses herself. It is her place. And so 
  Faanshi is dressed in short order, her Sylvan leathers replaced with the 
  silks with which Kerani provides her.

Kerani gives Faanshi any aid she needs in dressing. "These are clan Rashid 
  colors," she explains, "but I am sure that you will have proper Khalida 
  colors returned to you soon enough. Do not worry overmuch about these - 
  simple honest care is all I ask."

[Faanshi solemnly accepts the garments and pledges their swift return, but
 does not dally long in the quarters of the Imphadi and Imphada. Her duty
 calls. End log.]