Date: July 26, 1998
Place: Khalida Pavilion - Rialto - Haven
Cast: Aziza, Riva
Scene: Two women from vastly different cultures still find something in common during the Varati Night Market.

Khalida Pavilion:
      Canvas walls surround the door flaps, a center pole rises to support its canvas roof. Lush Kohi-Noor rugs line the cobbles for a neat floor. Clever folding stools and several folding tables and chairs are placed about inside the pavilion, and many plush cushions. One great chair must be a throne, a similar one of slightly smaller scale at its side. Its sides are staked down for privacy from the festival outside.

Riva slips into the pavilion quietly. She pauses by the entry to squeeze a little of the water out of her tunic and hair as her pale eyes glance around the enclosure. She watches the activity for a few moments.

Aziza sits among a myriad of what are probably the Khalid's concubines. She and another youngster are oohing and ahing over Lalita's rings and dark skin.

Riva hesitates to advance any further into this clutch of women who concentrate so completely on the things drawing their attention.

As men will, the Agni-Haidar draw aside, literally and figuratively opening an aisle toward the women. Draw aside, perhaps as well, from a figure greatly unlike their own--candala. This in itself instantly absorbs the attention of the women, lo, some of them many never have seen such a being. Clearly, however, they are curious and would like to.

Riva blinks slowly, the green lashes lowering to conceal the observant glance roaming around the area. With shoulders back and head high, the Atlantean Captain advances with a near regal manner, instinctively using the presence of her personality to add more to her natural poise. She steps forward as if the unfashionable uniform is of the finest quality stylish garment a woman could hope to wear. When she draws near the group she speaks in soft melodic tones which mingle and float through the tent. "Imphadi, Imphada. Blessings of Pure Water."

Goodness, the women's expressions change quickly when the creature's approach brings her so close. Curiosity, yes, more heavily overlain with disapproval, frowning eyebrows. Aziza's eyes widen neither more nor less than any others. "Imphada," she comments. "You know our ways." She glances over her shoulder, unsure of others' approval. "Water? Than... thank you." Her hand has rummaged through a pile of gorgeous folded fabrics to pull out a hank of yellow, similar to what she's wearing. She could be puzzled, too, at the apparent offer of water when none is to be seen. "Mayhaps you would like," she rises as gracefully as smoke from a brazier, "to try on this color? It would look ... flattering with your coloring." 'And cover you' is left unsaid, eh.

Riva smiles politely, with a hint of amusement warming her glance. "That is much too lovely to risk tearing on my gear, though your most generous offer is appreciated." She raises one hand, the fingers splaying to let the webbing spread fan-like. A graceful twist of the wrist completes the gesture begun to accompany the denial. "I do not yet know your ways, but am attempting to learn of them so not to offend when can be avoided. I am just beginning to learn."

Soft metallic clinks and tinklings accompany every shift of Aziza's movements. "No, really, try it on. Our me... " she hesitates, then returns to a higher degree of insistence. She leans as close as she dares, obviously uncomfortable. "Men are not to look upon women's bodies in public. At least, not ours," she amends, whispered voice trailing off just as her lashes lower to shadow her cheeks.

Riva looks down at herself, puzzled. Fingers snap closer together and move to check the fasteners of her garb. Nope, all intact. "In my native element I wear nothing but a strip of material which does not hold the water draped over my loins. I am dressed adequately for the job I must do. Would you put one of your warriors in that?" She then smiles kindly. "I have had an audience with God-Emperor Khalid himself in this garb and with one of the warlords at the Atesh-Gah," the soft, melodic tone responds. "Much material entangles us when we must swim or climb around the docks in helping to clear the harbor."

Aziza pointedly does not shrug. She holds the lovely fabric aside and folds it in half, then half again, while composing herself and mayhaps finding her tongue. "Then, have you brought us wares to buy?" And again, a glitter from beneath her eyelashes suggests she's taking another peek at that green hair. Something to see, that. Fatima, sitting beside where the girl had risen to her feet, tucks in her veil that much more firmly. In case.

Riva says, "No. I came to see what might be available for converting to a dress suitable for a formal reception at the Korallion... for the hostess. I am Orman Riva. Orman Kai has requested I forego my usual duties and serve as his hostess for the event."

Titters and veiled whispers among the women accompany their gazes now, some boldly, most surreptitious, at the candala woman. "I see. I have heard that clan name." Well, she might have. Anyway, she said it. Aziza continues, "I can give this yellow to you, as I already offered. Hold it against your skin," she offers again the cloth, this time with less urgency. "Even the least of the Amir-al's concubines has plenty, if you would take it. Speak of it as a gift from Aziza of the Abbasid, of clan Radif-E Raqs."

Riva reaches out hesitantly to grasp the material. One hand extends to see the effect of yellow material against her light, golden-hued skin and her eyes rise to the others for a moment. Eventually her head dips in a faint nod as she examines the length material. "You are generous," come the soft tones flowing from the female's throat. Gill flaps flare, giving a hint of deep pink slashes before they shut smoothly. "I shall have to see if I can find a remembrance for you in return."

Aziza, animatedly and in bouncy girlish fashion, gestures as if the color were the most flattering shade of golden yellow possible, jingling and jiggling the whole time. Talking with her hands, one might say. "Think nothing of it, it is a ... gift. Does your kind dance? I would really like for you to dance, if so."

The expression on the face of the green-haired woman is a little stiff as she mentions the usual lack of clothing for her kind. A hint of nervousness revealed in her repetition of some wording. "Landsiders will be attending so will need something which will not offend them. I am afraid my usual formal wear looks like a pearl and gem encrusted loincloth which matches some hair ornaments." She looks toward Aziza, probing beneath the fall of material to read the bumps and planes and curves of fabric to discern the face beneath. "Dance? I have not learned to dance here, on land. In the water, we swim in spirals and whorls, circling and doing what for serves as a dance, but it is..." her hand makes sinuous movements which spread up her arms as if displaying it is done in three dimensions. "What we do is not something can be done ashore. Dancing is one of the activities not yet witnessed by this one... save for a youngster dancing in his tracks to the music in the Rialto one day."

"I see," Aziza's voice whispers through her sheer veiling. (Whether she does or not, a figure of speech, perhaps). "Water dancing. That should be quite lovely to see," she continues to flatter. "Still, to excite the fire... some things just would not translate."

A puzzled eyebrow raises in a gentle arc. "To excite the fire? Translate?" The eyebrow drops back into its usual position as the smile widens. "Please explain. Show me what you mean."

Aziza blinks, once only, followed by a nonplussed unfocused stare-at-nothing for a long moment. "The Amir-al, of course. Khalid Atar is the god of Neverending Fire. He brings the... " She seems at a loss for words to explain to the woman.

Riva continues to stand and delicately shifts her weight from foot to foot, something which might have gone unnoticed save for the wet sandals which squeak as the layers of leather rub together. Patiently, the golden-skinned woman speaks in her melodic soft tones, "So much to learn. Is it the presence of your men which impedes the words? Your dance... inflames them?" She tries to choose her words tactfully, never attempting to read thoughts but well aware of the waves of curiosity and disdain, the emotions rising from the gathering. Her poise does not falter, nor her friendly demeanor.

"I dance to the glory of the flame of god. And if one likes the dance and feels the flames of Khalid within him, well... " Aziza's voice shifts, more low. "She has power to impart strength to him. Strength in manhood, strength in Varati fire, strength in their belief in Him."

Riva's eyes widen and her lips part a moment before a gentle laugh escapes, light as the small bubbles on the underside of kelp. "A mating dance. Oh my. My apology for asking about something so intimate. I shall try to not err in my curiosity again. So kind of you to be patient with me. We do not use such. Our thoughts mingle to a point each knows the others and can progress easily enough from there."

Aziza's hennaed fingers go to her mouth, to cover it, or where it must be, and her eyes twinkle in quickly contagious mirth, as well. "Mating? Like animals? Well, no. Don't you know about the stirring inside? It makes one well, feel good. Strong and handsome or winsomely beautiful." Her words go on to generally describe flirting and high self-regard. "Maybe it is much the same as what you said. The flame within might send a man straight home to his wife or concubine."

Riva half lowers her eyelids as her smile of amusement grows. What a topic for a group of women to pursue in such surroundings, especially verbally where the titters and asides are more private. Gamely Riva gathers her wits to respond. "I know. I know the way the unstoppable currents can rise from the heart and mind and swirl along sweeping all else aside, strong and pure and clean. I know how one can feel when they are looked upon as something that can quench a thirst. It is just... mind to mind, no artifice. Our water dance can trigger much the same, but sometimes... just the way we swim or move... or for no reason at all."

Aziza's enthusiasm keeps her giggling. A nod of her head gestures toward the other listening women. "Really not so different as us, your kind. We talk about things like this all the time in the harem."

Riva steps a little closer now that she is dry enough to not drip all over the others. "Have not spoken much with any women like you, so do not know enough to judge that."

Aziza's gaze meaningfully glances up and down your figure. "Nor I, your kind. I suppose I am keeping you from that which you seek?"

Shoulders rise and send light glinting along the long curls of drying green hair. Riva murmurs softly, "I sought satisfaction of curiosity and that seems to be satisfied well enough here." The melodic tones trickle out softly. "But you have others requiring your attention so I shall depart. My thanks for the length of material. I shall see what can be created with the lovely yellow brocade."

"Mayhaps we shall meet again, I know not when. Wear it in good health," Aziza gestures warmly. "Or as you will, it is yours."

Riva refolds the material in a manner to minimize its exposure to the rain. She tucks it behind her under the curve of her shield and settles everything back into place more comfortably before starting back toward the opening leading outside.

Aziza's gaze follows Riva's passage in curiosity. Maybe looks from the other women or the Agni-Haidar catch her attention. Yet her lashes lower as a veil proper veil before the woman has left.

FIN  

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