Log file from Jaihyn.
March 8, 1999
Courtyard - Atesh-Gah - Haven
If indeed the Hebrew folk of lost Earth are correct in their legends, then this must be the legendary garden from which mankind was expelled. The flat expanse of the great courtyard of Atesh-Gah is covered in the most luxurious grass of bright emerald green, broken only by a cobblestone path for riding and walking to prevent wear upon the lawn. Rich copses of carefully tended wood grow by the walls, lovingly groomed flower gardens acting as a barrier of colour before the rising trees.
Perhaps even more relaxing than the sight of the yard are the sensations of it. The lovely scents of flower and tree; honey-suckle, apple blossom, peach, and jasmine; combine with the soft cushion of green grass to provide a sense of peace and harmony that defies the looming sand-hued walls of unbreakable stone. Not even the shadowed maw of the main gate, nor the blocky, unimpressive presence of the impenetrable main keep can overshadow the beauty of this place. Indeed, the stark contrast serves only to enhance it.
Contents:
Zafir
Maat
Alaia
Allegra
Elidi
Shahar
Cassius
Cassius' mouth tightens at that significant look from Shahar. He avoids her gaze this time and spends these last moments watching Elidi. Ruined face or not, he wants to memorize her features, for there is no telling when he'll see them again. "There are some... requirements the God-King made, in order for me to, ah... remain alive." He is standing in the midst of two Agni-Haidar, who are keeping hold of his arms, though it's doubtful he could ever put up much of a fight. The patriarch is a sorry sight -- bruised temple, bloody, ripped chiton, slumped shoulders and wings. He doesn't look quite like the impressive Aegian others may have made him out to be.
Allegra furrows her brow as she is shaken, and after a moment opens her eyes. And the first sight she sees...Empyreans? In Atesh-Gah. She screams, struggling to get free and run away. Her wings accidentally whap Alaia in the face in her fear.
Jaihyn walks in, calmly at first and then stops, seeing, also, Empyreans but he does not have the same reaction as Allegra. Instead, a hand drops beneath his cloak as if to draw something but it doesn't look like he's minded to use it on the winged folks. He looks around, trying to figure out what in Khalid's name is going on.
"What are they?" asks Elidi's husky contralto, quickly and intent. "What is he extorting from us now? I shall do whatever I can to fulfill his requests, Cassius, if it keeps you alive." Another blackened feather drifts to the ground as Elidi's wings shift in angry agitation. She speaks solely to her husband now, some of that rage in her eyes softening. Even her face begins to look slightly tired, but she does not droop.
Chana-Cari steps out of the embassy and joins you in the courtyard. Chana-Cari has arrived.
Another significant glance is issued Cassius's way before Shahar turns toward Elidi. "A matter for later discussion. Stipulations. Nothing that ought to be termed extortion." Her mezzosoprano, tutored, honeyed, is well-matched to Elidi's contralto. "But should this naraki feel you should know -all- contingencies for his release, he may speak now."
Cassius jerks his head towards that childish scream, and his icy eyes narrow upon spotting another Empyrean within Atesh-Gah. The prospect of 'company' doesn't exactly reassure him. But Elidi's question reclaims his attention, and he turns back to her after tugging once more at the Agni-Haidars' grip. His arms are getting cramped. They pay him no heed, naturally. Irritated at more than his deplorable treatment, Cassius tells his wife, "He wants the Aegis to be lenient with those involved in the coup." Watching Elidi intently, he says, "Perhaps you would be the best one to... soothe any, ah, ruffled feathers. Between the Praetorians and the Aegis. Because the God-King apparently feels that the attack on Civitas Dei was in the... best interests for peace, he wishes the 'punishment' on the insurrectionists to be lenient."
"ZADA!" is Alaia's husky, if somewhat commanding tone. "It is well! Shhh, dove, it is well, calm yourself!" The slap given by her own daughter smarts for a good measure, thankfully the blossoming crimson veiled with proper silks.
Allegra turns in Alaia's arms, clinging to her mother's form as she sobs. "Mama, Daddy say-ed to run if Empys were in Atesh-Gah. Him say-ed they might want to steal me back. I don't want to go," she wails.
Jaihyn blinks, trying to figure out who is the Naraki in this situation, hand still beneath his cloack, watching with very curious eyes.
Maat has not moved a muscle since her attempt to rescue Allegra from herself. Instead, the still form would appear to be observing the conversation between Shahar and the Empyreans. Like a pillar of the stone the Varati are often compared in metaphor, the woman stands in observation.
Chana-Cari enters the courtyard and stops suddenly, suprised by the sight of Empyreans. She notices Maat and makes her way to stand beside her.
Alaia's tone remains low-key and husky with soothing as she speaks to Zada.
Elidi ignores the child's outburst as one used to focusing her attention upon more important tasks in the midst of chaos. Her mouth purses as she slowly nods to Cassius, "I... am not the most diplomatic sort, but Kalypso *owes* me for this and, by Tritonia's justice, she will make certain it is *done*. Was that all? Upon what else do you depend to keep your life?" The burn-gnarled fingers of her left hand clench into a tighter ball, but the thumb of her right absently strokes Cassius' cheekbone.
Allegra nods, casting a fearful glance over her shoulder, back at the Empyreans. She turns back to Alaia. "Safe?"
"The attack in the Palladium..." Cassius goes on to say. He's frowning with the effort of remembering -- that boot to the head Khalid left him with a throbbing headache. "Of the Praetorian Guard on the Varati stationed there... the God-King wants those responsible turned over to him... or to Delphi." His blue eyes dart to Shahar as if seeking confirmation. The patriarch has had a lot to absorb in one night, and he'd hate to miss a detail that could cost him his life.
Jaihyn finally lets go of the hilt of his sword and folds his hands together, merely watching, slinking to the edges of the shadows. There is a strange look on his normally calm and gentle face.
Shahar is silent. She seems not to be interesting in prompted much; never mind that that boot from Khalid might have popped a few details out of Cassius' brain.
A reassuring nod is directed at Allegra, as Alaia's arms once again tighten around her little girl. "Safe," she murmurs a bit breathlessly.
Allegra nods and completely tired out falls asleep on Alaia's shoulder.
Elidi asks Shahar with a bit of a frown at her apparent lack of interest in helping, "Is this true? We would not want the wishes of your Khalid Atar to be ignored or improperly carried out, would we?" Elidi puts on a small smile as the tips of her swings edge backward.
Cassius murmurs in a faint tone, "Nor would we, ah... wish him to fulfill his threat should they not be carried out." A scent still lingers in the air, here in the courtyard -- an unpleasant one. The lingering effects of the grisly scene that took place here only days ago. Cassius had heard about it, and the thought makes his knees week -- this once, he is glad of the Agni-Haidar holding him upright. Putting on a show of dignity is one thing, but the prospect of facing Khalid's full punishment would make the hardiest of soldiers feel faint. And Cassius is no soldier. "Just see that this is done, Elidi," he asks, struggling not to let it sound too much like a plea. Shahar is not participating in this negotiation between Cassius and Elidi; her stern demeanor indictates that she wholly supports what the Khalid Atar has demanded, and she is not in a position to negotiate.
Shahar is barely participating in this discussion between Cassius and Elidi; her stern demeanor indictates that she wholly supports what the Khalid Atar has demanded, and she is not in a position to negotiate. "What he says is true...the Amir-al demands leniency toward the insurgents and the Praetorians who had the unmitigated gall to attack our Agni-Haidar and Atarvani. In addition to leniency from those he has wronged."
With loving arms Zada is lifted fully upwards and nestled against Alaia. How the woman manages to accomplish such a feat is really beyond even her, as the legs of her young charge are forced to dangle at one side, to the left of her pregnant state. Without so much as a glance towards the Empyrean couple, she heads within, practically hobbling at the amount of children she seems to be collecting, one way or another. Alaia ascends the stairs to Atesh-Gah's sturdy double doors, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. Alaia has left.
Elidi releases another breath through her nostrils. "Then it shall be done. I know not how long it shall take for the government to deal with the insurgents, but I shall -personally- deliver the ones who attacked your people to this place or the Delphi before the week is out." For a few heartbeats, she studies Cassius, turning more of her words to him. "I have received no indications that I should be arrested for what small part I played in the insurrection. Perhaps it shall not be difficult to ask for leniency for the others." Her tone softens. "Don't lose hope, my husband. Not yet."
Vayu steps out of the embassy and joins you in the courtyard. Vayu has arrived.
Jaihyn cocks his head a little, still watching from the shadows, giving a small nod to Vayu from within them.
Cassius allows a fleeting smile to curve his lips and briefly banish the hopelessness and weariness in his pale blue eyes. "I decided not to mention your part in the insurrection. Besides... you gained us our only victory, Elidi. How would it look to our people if the Aegis were to arrest you?" He is standing between two hulking Agni-Haidar, looking bedraggled and the worse-for-wear, with a bruised templed and bloodied, ripped chiton. He is speaking to his wife in low tones, while Shahar looks on, and other Varati cast the two Empyreans curious glances.
Torchlight and dustwing'd moths that flicker through the air, lighting it with their phosphorescent glow; it is a calm night, but not all that walk it are posessed of that calmness. Vayu's descent from the foyer is hushed by the gravel at the base of the stairway. Pulling up the hood of his robe, his chin lifts as teeth pull back in angry defiance; so soon it sleets after warm sunsets! "Blood of the thousand martyrs," he curses lightly. Voices quickly distract him from't, though, drawing steelgrey eyes to the curious bas-relief of Empyreans and Agni-Haidar. White on black - white is the color of evil tonight, tempered to truth by the hell-red torchlight. "Curious," murmurs the whiterobed diplomat, not moving any further forward. Best to watch and be wet, than appear foolish and be dry.
"The Amir-al has been lenient, Domina," Shahar feels compelled to observe, adding lightly, "Your husband still lives, does he not? Those few things we have asked of your people shall be done - you may contact me or my husband in reference to them - and should the Seraskier grant his forgiveness, should the Pasha accept his servitude as apology, and should his daughter relinquish him from his position of naraki...he shall be returned to you."
Chana-Cari decides to head back in. Signaling to her mothe, she turns to the doors. Chana-Cari ascends the stairs to Atesh-Gah's sturdy double doors, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. Chana-Cari has left.
Jaihyn shakes his head to himself, angrily, retreating back into the shadows some more, trying very hard to stay OUT of trouble for once.
Maat is like the other loitering Varati in the courtyard, progress across it arrested by the sight of the Empyreans; she is a collection of shadows among deeper collections of darkness.
The Shakir's speech had caused Cassius no undue alarm.... until the end. Two words. 'His daughter.' His pale eyes widen and throw a venomous glare at Shahar -- he cannot hide his anger this time. Skilled as he may be at keeping his feeling hidden, this is one thing that will not stay concealed. The anger changes to alarm and then, wariness, as he swivels his gaze back toward Elidi. He cannot speak. Not yet.
Slowly, Elidi's head turns so that she might regard Shahar, her lone remaining eyebrow quirking upward. "What does Arianna have to do with this?" she asks in a voice that might just be wary. "She is this man's only daughter and I know that she wishes her father were not here." There isn't as much naivete' in her gaze as in her words. Suspicious lurks in the woman's copper-hued orbs as she looks to the Shakir.
Those stoic Agni-Haidar on either side of Cassius have not been oblivious to the conversation, and perhaps, if one were looking at just the right moment, they might glimpse a sly smile flicker across the lips of one of them. But the Lions of Fire are not known for their humor, and the smile quickly fades. Cassius, for his part, is not smiling. His ice-blue eyes are darting back and forth between Shahar and Elidi, and he's torn between anger and anxiety. "I... er... there... is something I should tell you, Elidi..." He audibly swallows. Strangly enough, he looks more nervous now than he did before the God-King.
Shahar seems expressionless thanks in part to her veil, and presently she is entirely silent, neither helping nor hindering the discussion between the two Empyreans.
The burned Empyrean woman's hand falters a bit against Cassius' cheek and she begins to draw her hand away. "What." That's all. Just that one word and it isn't even really a question. Now her wary eyes are focused upon the face of her husband and there is another whisper of feathers as her wings move.
Cassius swallows again, for his throat has gone dry. He opens his mouth, but after one glance at Elidi's face, he closes it again, and cannot for the words out. Loathing those curious stares from the other Varati, the Augustin patriarch shrugs his arms again in another attempt to free them from the grip of the Agni-Haidar -- again, with no success. He cannot say it again. He cannot endure the humiliation again. And nor can he face the accusation in his wife's gaze when she learns the truth. Taking the coward's way out, Cassius says quietly, "In my room... in the left-hand bottom drawer of my desk... there is a secret compartment." The Varati are listening, but he does not seem to care. "You'll find it, if you look. Inside, you'll find... papers." He swallows yet again. "Read them." After that first glance, throughout it all, he had not looked at Elidi again. He couldn't.
Still Shahar regards them with the emotional fortitude and strength of an obsidian statue. She looks at Cassius steadily, nothing given in her gaze, nothing taken either, then turns toward Elidi and waits for her reaction. If she is cognizant of the drain this will have on the Empyreans' spirits, she shows nothing of it. She watches, she listens, she waits. And she knows.
Jaihyn grumbles something to himself, staring at the ground now, not wanting to see the winged ones in such a state. He's trying to be good, oh yes he is. Promise.
Taking a step back, Elidi says, "I shall give you the benefit of the doubt, Cassius. For now." Mismatched wings flex and then lower a little as she forces herself to relax a bit. "However, I remember what revelations I've made while reading other papers written in your hand." Again, her face is that unreadable mask, but her eyes reflect her doubts that it will be good news. She turns to Shahar, "If that is all, Imphada, it seems I have many things to do."
Shahar turns her back on Cassius for the moment to direct her attention to Elidi, her voice, as always, pitched to the level that discretion demands. Coolly she murmurs, "Much rests upon your cooperation, Dea Augustus. Beyond your husband's welfare, beyond his future. I would request that you confer with me at your earliest convenience when you have information to offer. For the sake of many."
Leather on cobbles heralds movement on the edge of the courtyard; from the fringes, near the foyer's entrance, a white figure moves. He is stark against the stone walls and the darkness of foliage; made slick with rain, he shimmers as a pale apparition let roam the mortal earth, freed from the chains that the underworld uses to keep hold of such creations. He approaches Shahar at a slow pace, head bowed with hands clasped behind his back - no sense in charging into the thick of things, is there? There he hangs, the soggy and smoke-filled torchlight pooling orange in the hollows of his face, while the highlights are lit up in stark, shining red. Still, he is silent.
Elidi says "Why? It seems these requests are for the sake of my husband only. Or... does your Amir-al intend to make more threats so he might make more demands?"
Cassius is no longer paying attention to the conversation between his wife and Shahar. He's still shaken by what he had just done. He could not tell Elidi the truth to her face, so he presented her with the truth written in his own hand. All of it. He's shaking now; trembling in the grip of those Agni-Haidar, and he doesn't care who sees it. "I've... changed, Elidi," comes his voice, faintly, cutting through the Praetor's discussion with the Shakir. All of a sudden, the requirements for his eventual release seem less important, if he will have nothing to come back to at the end. "I would have done things... differently." How feeble his words sound, as if he desperately wants to believe them himself. "Don't judge me too harshly." He beseeches Elidi with his eyes, utterly humbled now, as he refused to be in front of the God-King.
Beneath the transluscent azure of her face veil, Shahar seems to smile, lightly so; her full lips essay a wry expression. As her chin uplifts, she lets Elidi's questions rest unanswered whilst Cassius's self-abasement reigns in the conversation. Eyes vaguely narrowed, the Shakir observes reaction from Cassius, then from his wife, memorizing all. It is, as they say, her job.
Jaihyn just sighs.
Elidi swallows as she begins to turn away, but her voice is gentle as she confesses, "I cannot make that promise until I have learned the truth, Cassius. It would not be fair to either of us. I would not wish to make a promise that I cannot keep nor would I wish to be made a liar when I could not keep it." A faint, wistful smile touches her lips. "Tyche's blessings, Cassius. Be strong."
Dark eyes flash sidelong toward Jaihyn. Sighing? Hopefully with irritation, rather than sadness; Vayu's lips downturn into a dust-ridden expression of disapproval at that thought. The eyes latch back onto Cassius - but they don't stop there. Elidi and Shahar are also watched. The black spaces in Vayu's eyes grow everdeeper as he watchers, pupils reflecting redorange and the smell of alien thought with their very hollowness. Smell, from reflections? The senses are strange.
Well, it doesn't sound irritated at all, that sigh. Hard to tell what's in that sigh, it seemed to contain volumes of something. Jai still continues to look towards the ground.
"The peace that has been begun between our people rest upon you, Domina," Shahar issues softly toward the Dea preparing to take her leave. "You know where to reach me should the desire or need to do so arise."
Cassius can't say anything. Words have left him. He's near the end of his endurance for this night. In the space of a few hours, he has been stripped of his rank, his dignity, his title, and made the lowest of slaves to the Varati. But he thought he could bear that. It was only when the Shakir revealed the matter of his 'daughter' that he plunged into hopelessness. And the instruction for Elidi to read the documents where he has recorded all his crimes only sealed his fate. He continues to shiver in the Agni-Haidars' grip and keeps his gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to raise his eyes to any of the onlookers. Least of all his wife.
The Dea's curt nod to Shahar is her last communication before she turns and begins her walk to the gate. The two guards who have been her escort move with her. Perhaps it is out of respect for the Varati that she walks or perhaps it is due to her burned wing, but walk, she does.
Jaihyn steals a tiny look after the Empyrean, still shaking his head a little.
A soft crunching of cobblestones is heard among the pillars of the gates to this garden. As they near, one notices Zafir for the first time, carrying a small sachel that seems like it should more be attached to his waist. His head is bowed and unwrapped, almost as if he returns from a pilgramge gone awry. His skin tones seem to meld with the surrounding blocks as well as clash with the grass, so depending on your angle of viewing him, he is either not very visible or extremely obvious.
Shahar turns to face Cassius for a minute. Then two. The silence hangs heavy about them, begging interruption, the way an infection begs lancing. "Take this naraki to my chambers," she instructs the ominous, oppressive Agni-Haidar, "where he will be fitted with clothing more appropriate to his station. And his study of our surahs shall begin. Should he show signs of disobediance...inform the Seraskier and ask for his preference for punishment."
Elidi passes between the massive pillars flanking the entrance to Atesh-Gah and returns to the street. Elidi has left.
Cassius' wings echo his mood -- they droop to the ground, the pure white pinions growing dusty when he puts up no resistance and is led away by the Agni-Haidar, at the Shakir's suggestion. He doesn't look up, keeping his gaze fixed downward, away from those prying, curious eyes. Thus begins his new life within Atesh-Gah. And power, influence, or pride will not save him now. Cassius ascends the stairs to Atesh-Gah's sturdy double doors, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. Cassius has left.
Jaihyn looks up curiously at Shahar wondering who will teach him the Surahs. Probably 'that man' himself. And he shudders.
Shahar's lips flatten beneath her veil, and, nodding to the other guards, she paces into the Atesh-Gah in Cassius' wake. Shahar ascends the stairs to Atesh-Gah's sturdy double doors, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. Shahar has left.
Zafir glances as the breeze of everyone passing him awakens him finally. He glances at Elidi's backside, his face growing to a deep frown. His eyes darken and cloud. The sachel gets bunched up slightly.
Jaihyn finally gets some life back into them as most everyone leaves. He heaves a huge sigh and shakes his head a little viciously suddenly.
"Hmmm." The first noise out of Vayu's mouth seems to be one of decided curiosity; he turns, eyes let stare deep into the sky as he walks. He pauses, however, beside the entryway into Atesh-Gah proper. "Akhund Jaihyn," he inquires, head dipped and turned slightly toward the Atarvani - almost as though he were confused at something a student had done. "I'm curious... why do you shake your head so greatly?" he inquires, voice low and almost gravel-textured as he places a hand on the edifice's wall, torchlight flowing overhim in liquid rivers.
Jaihyn cocks his head. "I dislike seeing anyone in such a position." he says simply.
Maat resumes passage across the courtyard, stirring neither wind nor dust. Nary a sound marks her progress from gate to the main entrance.
"Perhaps one should not be born an Empyrean." A soft smooth tenor voice says from the edge of teh cobblestone walk. Zafir's eyes flicker between the passingone and the one headed to teh bottom of the social ladder.
Jaihyn eyes the newcomer. "Why not? They are a proud and beautiful people. I do not see the problem."
A deep inhalation posesses the whiterobed diplomat; his eyes lift, and with them, his head. "Why do you feel pain for Cassius?" Vayu inquires softly, face expressionless. He uses the man's name, at least. "He is not Varati. He made himself an enemy of Atar. One would think that the judgement passed is adequate. Don't you?"
Maat puts a foot on the lowest step of the stairs, then turns to the new voice that chooses to counter Jaihyn's pitying statement. Golden eyes slowly pore over Zafir, then pass over to Vayu. Rainbow-toned robes settle once more into limpness about the tall piece of stone as movement ceases and the eyes begin to observe.
Zafir tilts his head. "You more then likely did not lose family to the heathens. The lord shoud not grant them leninency. He should strike them downwhere they stand!" He bows slightly. "But a mufti has no true say."
Jaihyn shakes his head, "I do not believe in slaves. No matter what they may have done. Put him to hard labor to repent or what have you, to build up his credit. Or who knows. But I am against slaves." Period. He turns to Zafir. "My clan has lost some people in the war but we do not think in such ways. We have a saying 'Respect your enemy for one day you may call them friend.'"
"I no longer am fortunate to have a clan." Zafir comments softly
Jaihyn cocks his head a little, "And why is that?" he asks with gentleness in his voice.
Maat's eyes move back to Vayu after Jaihyn replies. She does not speak, eschewing to join in the conversation due to social position. Something in her stance indicates a hint of consternation at Jaihyn's response.
The torchlight remains upon Vayu as he moves, offering up an orange, wet halo behind him as he steps closer to Jaihyn. "You do not believe in slavery, no matter what? Where is the vaunted duty to Khalid Atar that Atarvani are well-known for? Where is your faith in his judgement, Jaihyn?" Vayu's inquiries are almost scornful in tone, biting about the ear with sharp sounds. This is not the scorn Kiral showed for the Atarvani - this is scorn on a more personal level. Zafir is ignored; he's only a shudra, after all.
Zafir eyes Vyau, letting him deal with this other fellow first.
Jaihyn turns to Vayu and snaps, "I do not keep slaves! The Atarvani DO NOT KEEP slaves." he repeats, the normally gentle and warm features now harsh. "I am loyal to the Amir'al. To my people, to my clan."
Zafir says "Loyalty is like a flowing river. Almost anyone can control it if they know the right bouldes to move." Zafir comments dryly, his tenor rising to get attention now. "One can learn a lot from a pilgrimage." He eyes Vayu no"
Maat would appear to be finding this conversation more and more interesting. The foot strays from the lowest step and returns to its mate on the ground.
"Young fellow, this has nothing to do with whatever you find distasteful," Vayu answers, face suddenly becoming a mask of steel-veined stone; his eyes have become very large, brow sharpened downward with the threat of blood drawn from flesh, should it become any sharper. "This was a judgement of the Amir-al. If you do not keep slaves, good for you - stand by your convictions, and I shall stand by mine. I own no slaves, either. But the judgement given to Cassius Augustin was handed down by Khalid Atar - not you. I find it disheartening that in these times, Atarvani hold our God's wishes in less esteem than their own." Oh, Jaihyn's hit a nerve on Vayu today - his eyes burn with a strange sort of extrapersonal fury, and he blatantly chooses not to hide it. He's incensed at the fact that Jaihyn so casually calls what Khalid did wrong - perhaps not in literal words, but in inferrence.
"Loyalty is like a flowing river. Almost anyone can control it if they know the right bouldes to move." Zafir comments dryly, his tenor rising to get attention now. "One can learn a lot from a pilgrimage." He eyes Vayu now. "Or perhaps diplomats ignore Mufti as most Shudra tend to."
Jaihyn looks at Zafir with interest now, examining him up and down. "What you say is true, indeed. It is all relative, isn't it?" he turns back to Vayu. "Stuff it." he says suddenly, not in a very good mood today himself. "Just because our Lord has proclaimed something... I have no problem with that. But I can show /sympathy/ and have feelings for someone's plight, now can't I?" he says with an arched brow. Too bad Khalil isn't here to get into a fight with, he certainly won't draw his sword on a diplomat.
"No." Vayu's answer is deadpan, cold and inhospitable; were he the river of life, Jaihyn would be the rocks cracked and broken by the freezing of water. "His plight is deserved, Akhund; 'twas he who killed the children of our people, 'twas he who fathered Kiera and then wanted her dead. He is the face that evil wears in this world; he is the left hand of darkness. Your sympathy for him is as misplaced as it would be as sympathy for Mehmet's killer." His diatribe is delivered in a bland, hard-edged way with no emphasis on anything greater than would be expected from one talking embroidery over tea. Turning to regard Zafir, he touches his forehead in salute. "My pardons, Honored One. I did not know; I could not see the red robes, nor were you made known to me."
Jaihyn shrugs a little again, tired of this place, wishing he were back home in more hospitable and understanding surroundings. "As you wish." he gives in, just like that, voice dead and monotone.
Maat adds neither words nor oil to the flames of Vayu, but remains as stone, silent, but present.
Zafir brushes at his outfit, dust falling from teh robes to reveal teh red of the caste whom he has honored. "Travel does that." He chuckles. "Though I must say it is nice to see one berate those who have power to knock me back down." Waving at the salute. "I returned at the end of the war to help put an end to my family's suffering. A diksha was performed without me."
"I take no pleasure in arguing with Imphadi Jaihyn," Vayu comments in a quieter voice, arms folding up over his chest as he glances sidelong to the Akhund. For some reason, he seems to have little or no wariness about talking down to a fellow who could be, in many ways, considered Vayu's superior. "I merely deign it neccessary that certain ideas be corrected when they produce incorrect thinking," he murmurs. Vayu? Correct an Atarvani on religious matters? Bold fellow, isn't he?
Jaihyn shakes his head slowly, "You cannot correct me, nor should think that you EVER can." this is said quietly and with a small edge of bite to it.
Considering poor Zafir barely comes up to the barrel of Vayu's chest, he obviously has no intentions of doing anythign to get himself squished. He raises his chin a moment, then bows his head. 'Forgive me, I meant no insult." He straightens a moment. "Perhaps before we go farther I should introduce myself. Zafir Karu Sahir, Mufti of the former Clan Sahir, massecured in the recent war."
Jaihyn bows, palms together. "Jaihyn Ramah al'Rumai, recently from clan al'Rumai in the outer edges of Varati lands."
An arched brow offers a touch of flavor to Vayu's almost uniformly indifferent face. "Akhund, any man can correct any other whose thoughts follow illogical paths," he murmurs, "And that includes you, and includes the subject of religion. You swore, upon taking up the red robes, that your first duty above all others, even to yourself, was to *Khalid Atar's* wishes. You know as well as I do that what he decides is the correct one. Whose thoughts are more reliable? A man's? Or God's? Your ego seems to have swollen with your rise in rank - it is *wrong* for you to feel pity for Cassius." Momentarily forgotten in his words to Jaihyn, Vayu seems to snap out of a trance as he stops speaking; his inhalation is surprised, as though the air bit at his lungs. Bowing to Zafir, he crosses his arms. "Vayu Khalida Sirat, Deputy Foreign Minister."
Jaihyn stares at Vayu, his hand unconsciously dropping beneath his cloak. Then he closes his eyes and lets it fall back to its orginal position by his side. He says nothing in response to this. Nothing at all.
Zafir bows as well, and the dust has now about cleared from his red robes. "My apologies, Imphadi Vayu. I did not mean to be so opinionated when first we met. My clan always looked for guidance from the loudest of Khalid's honored." He raises an eye at Jaihyn.' Though if that were the case here, I'd find some competition."
Maat murmurs, like a whisper upon the breeze, "The most damning thing about words and actions is the rapidity through which they can be interpretted." Her eyes move toward that motion below Jaihyn's cloak. "And, often, action does speak louder than words."
Jaihyn looks at Maat, opening his eyes again, nodding. Still saying nothing at all, his demeanor quiet. It seems that brief shut of eyes, helped restore him to some sort of sense of quiet.
"I am... sorry... for being so vocal about the subject. But I find it distressing to hear dissent about what the Amir-al has judged to be right. Religion is a sensitive spot with me," Vayu states - his tones are not apologetic so much as they are explanitory, and most of that is directed to Zafir. When Maat speaks, however, he glances toward her, showering amusement with his half-grin. "I was wondering when you'd speak up," he notes. For his part, Vayu seemed entirely unconcerned about Jaihyn's hand and where it's bound to. After all, he is Kshatri, and undoubtedly has more training than most would-be attackers.
Jaihyn still says nothing, merely watching and listening without comment. His hands are now folded up in the arms of his robes, arms crossed his chest but it doesn't seem a defiant stance, merely protective.
Zafir straightens and adjusts his hold on his sachel. His eyes have cleared, in fact they have an amuzed twinkel to them now. He gives a slight chuckle and responds. "Perhaps I should get settled in. I have come a long way and am sure my comments will be addled with the gibberish of politics."
"Yes... I have business to attend to as well, I fear," Vayu murmurs, glancing between the two Atarvani as he pitches off the wall. His lips, downturning at the memory of work avoided, seem wrought of discomfort. He doesn't like avoiding work, then?
Jaihyn bows low and with seeminly genuine respect to both men, "May you walk in His light then, gentles."
Vayu bows back to Jaihyn, equally respectful - he may differ in opinion with the man, but he is still an Akhund, after all. "Honor and health to you, Honored One," he murmurs.
Zafir joins the bowing. "His is the way. may it also be your way."
Maat does not join in the bowing, remaining at the foot of the stairs, but turning to begin her assent up the stone once more, opinions, once more, kept to herself.
Vayu ascends the stairs to Atesh-Gah's sturdy double doors, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. Vayu has left.
Maat ascends the stairs to Atesh-Gah's sturdy double doors, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. Maat has left.
Zafir straightens again, and starts to make his way toward Atesh-Gah. His hopeful new home. Zafir ascends the stairs to Atesh-Gah's sturdy double doors, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar. Zafir has left.
*********
Zafir
The man before you looks back with a critical eye. His dark tan skin appears to be leathery yet is soft to the touch, almost like the local trees. His hands are caloused as if he refuses to use Shudra. He has weird eyes to most. One appears to be deep brown and one appears to be deep green. Their shade varies based on his mood. His oval face sits at everyone else's normal shoulder height. No chiseled features. They are smooth, yet rough.
His black hair has a distinctness to it. Grey streaks by the temples run back to above his ears. He tends to wear the hair in a pony tail that hangs to just below his shoulderblades.As your eyes drift down his form, you note he wears a simple wool tunic with a drawstring to midchest. Over this is a unfastened leather haik. He wears cotton breeches with an unadorned leather belt. On his feet he wears Leather shoes with wool calf sleeves. The entire outfit is designed with shades of his own skin, but he wears no jewelry of note.
Elidi
Redgold hair in uneven lengths has been arranged toward the left side of her head, the braid dangling along the burn-marbled flesh there and hiding the scarring where her ear would be. The rippled burn scars that angle across her face and travel down her left side are angry hues of red and pink. The color of her right eye is copper, but her left eye is unable to fully open due to the 'melted' flesh of her eyelid. One eyebrow is undamaged, the other completely singed away. The skin of the rest of her face is still smooth and golden. Her honey-rose mouth is likewise undamaged. She is 5'10" with the taut body of a woman that is used to exercise. Great, white wings of the sharp, swift angle of a raptor erupt from her back. The left wing is mostly burnt, feathers black and curling.
A white tunic that hangs to the middle of her thighs helps to pad the armor that protects her form. A segmented cuirass with copper-rivetted shoulderplates hugs her curves and fastens to her upper body with leather straps. She wears the emblem of a Praetorian Praefect with a gold cord that loops about her left shoulder. Vambraces of copper-decorated metal adorn her forearms and spike-kneed greaves protect her shins. An apron of embossed metal discs flares over the skirt of her tunic when she moves. Attached to the belt are a few daggers and a broadsword, the weight of the sword angling the belt upon her shapely hips. The left side of her neck and shoulder are trailed with angry pink burns, the scarring indicative of what is on her face. The burns cease at the top of her bicep, however, and only begin again upon the fingers of her left hand.
Cassius
A tall Empyrean, stately of manner and carriage, with pristine white wings and silver hair. His eyes are a glacial blue, wintry and reserved but for an occasional hint of wry humor. Angular features, a thin-lipped mouth most often curved in a sly smirk, and a hooked nose form a face that could only be called 'handsome' in the most generous sense of the word. But he is striking; as much because of his presence as his physical appearance. Each movement is smoothly executed, as if he were an actor constantly on stage, and his voice is cool and mellifluous, suggesting a cultured background.
He is clad in a pale chiton of fine make, embroidered with threads of silver and sapphire--the colors of House Augustus. Draped over one shoulder and left to hang down between his wings is a mantle of royal-blue, emphasizing the lightness of his garb. Typical of the Empyreal aristocracy, he wears some jewelry--rings of gold and silver adorn his fingers, and a necklace bearing the insignia of House Augustus hangs around his neck. Upon his feet are silver sandals, which lace to mid-calf and show little wear, for he is one whose feet rarely deign to touch the ground.
Vayu
While often we are told that the outer shape does not make the inner, we sometimes forget that the inner mettle of a man will often shape his appearance, by virtue of determination and will. This Varati man shines with his inner strength, body shape and language radiating confidence and self-reliance.
Tall, this Varati man - perhaps six and a half feet, perhaps a little less; his shape is, as the Varati are known for, seemingly chisled from some sort of dark brown granite. He does not appear exceptionally strong - for a Varati - but rather appears to have the hardiness of one who has travelled many miles during their life, and has endurance to outrun the greatest Olympians. He is lean, like a runner, but the muscles stand out as proof of said miles travelled. His face is beholden of the strong features of the Varati, dusky skin matching his hard grey eyes and jet black hair - everything is a square, hard angle, matching his prominent nose and jaw. He is marked with a mustache and goatee, as is the style of the Easterland Varati. These are noble features, matching fierce purpose with kindness and acceptance - he is, without fail, a handsome and regal man. Age can be see creeping in around the edges of his eyes, marking him in his early 30's, but it does not diminish his appearance one whit.
He is clad in simple fare; the mix of styles shows that he is a diplomatic envoy of the kshatri caste. He wears a plain white robe, embroidered with grey around the lapels, cuffs, and edges. Belted with braided leather, a jambiya dagger is present - it looks like quite a fine weapon, too. Below the robe appears to be brown jubbah; he wears simple sandals on his feet. Despite the plain fare, however, the Varati man holds himself as though he were a king among men - or, perhaps more accurately, a sage among students. Not condescending, but certainly aloof - kindly, but still distant.
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ŠJune 1999
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