Date: February 17, 1999 (Finished March 9, 1999)
Place: Varati Camp - Somewhere in the Empyre
Cast: Aurora, Faanshi, Kiera
Scene: Aurora has come to visit Kiera, but it is the halfbreed's new "charge" that gains her attention, for she discovers that the shudra is a healer with untold potential. Yet her gift has been misused in the past, and the fallen Empyrean extends her trust so that the young healer might learn to trust in herself.

Varati Camp - Somewhere in the Empyre:
      After the fashion of many a war-camp, this one -- the imperial one -- somehow fashions an organized and effective army out of hopeless frantic clutter and activity. The Varati host is here hosted, and tents spread legion across the rolling prairie -- now trampled into hard-packed mud. The tents themselves are surrounded by cook stoves and chairs, armor boxes and racks upon which clothes dry and repaired or cleaned items are stored. Women and men both hurry through the clutter, each to his own vital task. The air is warmer here, thick with fire smoke and the fouler odors of many people in close inhabitation with inadequate sewage and washing facilities. To the south is located the tent-hospital, to the north, the Amir-al's encampment.
      West are the wyvern pens and east, the corrals for the lesser creatures that serve as food for men and mount.

More days have passed in the indeterminable indecision that pervades the camp following the exit of the griffin-borne Empyreans. Kiera has passed this time impatiently, often spending much of the day out on 'patrol,' her excuse to leave and fly, and stay away for extended periods of time, to watch -- finally -- the world begin to awaken into spring. Now she has returned, for night threatens, and Kiera has made a routine of checking in with her ultra-small 'household' of one shudra, one slave, before she slinks into the tent and sleeps. So now she lands and paces toward 'her' fire. The one she shares with the Agni-Haidar.

The tiny 'household' of Kiera Khalida is represented, at least for the moment and if one looks only in the vicinity of that fire, by the kneeling figure of the shudra, Faanshi. Before her, the campfire crackles, but also resting before her on the ground is a tiny bier from which tendrils of fragrant incense curl. Faanshi's head is bowed over hands clasped at her breast, and she is apparently in the middle of prayer.

It is coming on evening, and for once, Aurora is in the camp. That is rare, in and of itself. She disappears frequently, and few can say where she goes or what she does while away. Few would bother to pay attention -- she is one of Khalid's 'favored,' and an odd one at that, though perhaps less so than his pet halfbreed.' The Varati whisper and speculate as to a wingless Empyrean's relationship with the God-King, but no one's ever thought to just come right out and ask her. Whispering is better.

These whispers follow Aurora through the camp as she moves toward the grand Khalida encampment. But her goal is not the spacious tent of the God-King -- instead, her steps are directed toward the area adjoining it... Kiera's small tent and 'household.'

The breezes that ever accompany Kiera, when she is awake, now curl around Faanshi, dissipate, then tease back into being, the smoke from her bier, and flutters the veil of that other halfbreed, even as Kiera paces toward Faanshi. But it's Aurora who she notices, and to Aurora that Kiera's breezes hasten, greet more exuberantly. Kiera even flares her wings somewhat, and she veers her path to meet with the Empyrean, "Teacher!" Kiera's voice is never loud, so the greeting is still soft, unstartling.

The disturbance of the tendrils of incense coming up out of her tiny bier startle the shudra girl; green eyes lift, widened over her blue veil, and seek out the source of the breezes. There's a flare of pleasure in Faanshi's gaze for a moment, though it is immediately dampened by shyness as she sees Kiera greet the other.

Aurora's mouth eases into a small smile as she nears the tent, and Kiera's welcoming breezes pluck the leyang from her hair and send it fluttering down around her shoulders. "Kiera," she greets in her customary low tones. She has yet to notice Faanshi. "You are well? I've seen so little of you..." And in her usual manner, her gaze skims over the halfbreed with a maternal, assessing look, as if 'inspecting' to see that Kiera is eating enough and is staying healthy.

Indeed, Kiera's physical health is nothing less than excellent, despite this adverse weather. Feathers shines in the strengthening torch-light, her short hair has grown to flop down somewhat, to curl more against the nape of Kiera's neck. Her talons are longer than usual, and she is dressed in a new set of robes, made after the style of her others, but these are in Khalida's colors. Kiera is a deep tan, having spent much of the time in the air, in the winter sun, and she shows it. "I am well, Teacher," Kiera says quietly, her gaze for once seeming quite the same as Aurora's, in examining her back. "Are you well? You have seemed... unhappy, and the Khalid-Atar spoke of your becoming Empress, to the Empyreans." There. Not a subtle bone in Kiera's body.

Faanshi pulls in a very soft breath, glancing from Kiera to Aurora and back again, before once more demurely lowering her head and trying to regain her train of thought for her interrupted prayer. And thanks be unto thee, O Mighty Khalid, for thy deliverance... She pauses a moment, her black brows knitting over her closed eyes, as she tries to think of tonight's reason to be grateful for her being rescued from Clan Sarazen's now-dead Warlord. ... for it has... given me the chance to see the springtime as we travel. Amen...

The woman's smile fades at Kiera's words, and her grey eyes lower to the trampled earth underfoot. In so doing, they settle on Faanshi and, eager for a means of changing the subject, Aurora asks, "A new friend, Kiera? We have not met." Perhaps she is unaware of Faanshi's status -- after all, she is not a Varati, although she seems more familiar with their ways than a wingless Empyrean could be credited for.

Faanshi starts again, once more lifting her gaze from where she kneels, though her green eyes hold surprise at Aurora's notice. The shudra girl, for a moment, blinks at Kiera, as if perhaps expecting the winged halfbreed to speak for her.

Easily, Kiera allows herself to be led to a new topic. She got her answer in Aurora's features, gesture and expression, and that change of subject. So Kiera nods to Faanshi, smiles at her, and introduces her, "This is Faanshi Khalida. She is a shudra of Khalida, and my companion. Her heart-mother, Ulima, is a wise-woman. They will go to Haven with us. Faanshi, this is Aurora, my Teacher."

Faanshi tentatively begins to rise, coming up from her kneeling position, and saying in a soft, low voice, "Good evening, imphada. May I be of service...?"

Smile restored, Aurora shakes her head in vague amusement. "Please, no, I am just Aurora, and you needn't serve me. It is a pleasure to meet you, Faanshi." Her voice is likewise soft, and sweet -- an Empyrean's voice, with that unique, 'airy' quality the race is known for, as well as its own distinctive accent -- just a hint of it, that comes out in certain words. She cocks her head and gives Kiera a quizzical look. "How is it that she came to be your companion?" Her grey eyes settle on Faanshi again a second later, inviting an answer either from her or the hawk-winged halfbreed.

Faanshi looks a trifle helpless for a moment, and then slowly settles down again on the ground by the campfire, leaving the choicer places to the others if they should choose to draw nearer to the flames. She blows out the little spark in her bier, leaving tendrils of incense still wafting about her for a moment or two. And then she murmurs, "Imphada Kiera saved me from the Clan of my birth. "

Kiera has nothing to offer to that, but merely watches. Nor does she draw closer to the flame. Her study of Aurora leaves nothing out, but meticulously scans her face, frame, clothes and stature of the moment. Wasn't Aurora present for part of that? The woman suffers. Definitely. One brown wing stretches slightly, then returns to Kiera's back. "Faanshi learns to be a healer. Do you know of teachers for her, in Haven?" If, maybe, Kiera could get permission to get Faanshi taught outside Atesh-Gah.

Blond brows knit over grey eyes as Aurora studies Faanshi, and at last she places those leaf-green eyes and that brief recount with an event -- the judgment of Hashim, warlord of Sarazen. She remembers that odd, blank, glassy look in the warlord's gaze, and the accusations he'd made toward this girl. He'd called her a demon. Lips pursing, Aurora answers Kiera's question after a few moments of speculation. "There is a whole school of teachers, Kiera. But I would not recommend them. I might... know of some alternatives." Her eyes slide back to the winged halfbreed. "But surely the Khalid has his own teachers who might be better suited for the task?" Glancing back toward Faanshi suddenly, she asks, "How skilled are you in healing?"

Faanshi slumps a little, looking uneasy, flicking a green glance from Kiera to the one she has identified as her Teacher. "It... is difficult for me to say, imphada," she murmurs. "I have never been allowed to heal anyone... except Hashim." She bows her head, now studying her hands as she wrings them.

In this situation, Kiera can learn far more by watching than speaking, so she resumes her usual silence, letting the two women speak back and forth, while she listens. The breezes waft through, carrying fresh air into the area and the smoke, out.

Approaching the campfire, and the young woman seated beside it, Aurora kneels down and stretches out a bare hand to Faanshi. "Try me," she offers, guileless and straightforward. "There is nothing wrong with me -- at least, nothing that I imagine you could fix. But there are subtler uses for healing than the mending of bodies. Have you learned to soothe pain? Or to 'see' life -- the perfection and order of it -- when you touch someone?" She keeps her fingers outstretched as she studies the green-eyed, golden-skinned young woman. "You cannot know until you try. It will help me understand how powerful you are. I am no healer, but I... understand much about magic."

Half of the shudra girl's face is hidden by her veil, but her eyes widen, showing her surprise. "M-my heart-mother has taught me some meditations, imphada, but she is not a healer... I have never had a teacher..." Her gaze fixes on the proffered fingers, and then, tentatively, Faanshi curls her own digits about them. That hand of hers is mostly soft and delicate, though it bears new calluses and roughness along her skin, signs that this girl has been engaged in a fair amount of work.

Aurora shows no signs of trepidation or anxiety at having a so-called 'demon' take her hand. She merely waits, patient and calm, her mist-grey eyes placidly studying the young woman. "Let your power work," she bids. "Let it flow from you, like water from a pitcher. It will search for things to mend, in me. And it will find old wounds, mended long ago. Can you name them?"

Consciously control that fire that has welled up within her, where previously, she has only known it to roar up from somewhere out of her head, out through her hands, to mend whatever might have happened to ail Hashim... and sometimes, to sear his flesh? Faanshi shudders inadvertently at the thought, and the slight tremor runs out to the hand that Aurora holds. "I... think I know where it lives in me," she whispers uncertainly, closing her eyes, trying to look Within.

"You needn't be afraid." Aurora's voice has an even, soothing cadence -- it is a tone Kiera should be familiar with; the kind she employs when instructing an inexperienced student. "There is no failure in this." She nods in vague response to Faanshi's words and replies, "Just look. Look with the eyes that healing gives you."

It has no perceptible color or shape or texture, but somewhere behind Faanshi's eyes, nevertheless, lingers that Something. The shudra has felt it often enough to recognize the sense of it, but finding it within her is one thing. Releasing it on purpose is another. She pulls in a hesitant breath, lets it out again, and tries to focus on clearing her mind as Ulima has taught her... and then, on clearing a path for that inner Something to come forth and out to her hands. In fits and starts, the power obeys her, first in trickles and sprinkles of sensation, like the beginnings of a springtime shower.

"There you go," Aurora murmurs encouragingly as she feels a tingling sensation pass from Faanshi's hands to hers. "It wants to come out. It is a talent you have, and it wants to be expressed. Like a voice that wants to sing, or... wings that want to fly." The latter is said in a quieter tone. "But your gift has been misused, or locked away. That is why you cannot always tap into it when you wish."

And despite Kiera's wishes to the contrary, the night curls around her, stealing first her sight and then her consciousness. While those who lend the scene only a passing glance might think that Kiera only quietly watches Faanshi and Aurora, those that take any real note of it will realize that the winged halfbreed has fallen asleep.

Locked away. Though she seems to be stoically trying to control it, another shudder passes through Faanshi at those words, and the fits and starts of power trickling forth out of her fingers reflect this. There is a sharp flare of the magic in her slender golden hand, an upsurge in the raw strength of it, the springtime shower for a moment turning into a full-fledged storm.

The surge of unexpected power brings a faint wince to Aurora's face -- it is not painful exactly, but odd-feeling nonetheless. "Gently," she instructs, her tone lowered to match the 'mood' she wants to convey. "Remember, let it flow. Think of water, for it is the closest analogy. When you pour it from a pitcher onto a tiled floor, it will soak into each crack and valley. Your magic is like that. It will flow from you to me, and look for each 'crack.' Any place where I am not 'whole.' Do you feel this?"

"I feel...." The shudra's voice comes out of her in a hoarse whisper now, and her eyes are tightly closed, black lashes making little crescents between her brow and the top of her veil. What does she feel? Perhaps Aurora's voice is provoking it, but she finds herself suddenly and vividly aware of Kiera's Teacher, conscious of her presence in a way she has never found herself conscious of anyone before. Let it flow, the Teacher says... Ulima has said much the same thing, and with an effort, Faanshi attempts to do so. As she lowers her guard, however, the power beneath her skin wells swiftly up and out. If it is water poured forth from a pitcher, that pitcher is large and deep, and Faanshi's hand shivers with the effort of trying to keep her mind clear, to just let it... flow.

Aurora had not expected this level of power in one so young and seemingly-inexperienced, and the sensation of a 'dam' being released, and her own body being used as a vessel, is a disconcerting one. Her hand trembles within Faanshi's as the healer's magic pours forth, and as she said it would, it seeks out inconsistencies in her; imperfections. The first and most immediate are the missing wings. In Faanshi's mind's eye, she can 'see' them. As they should be. Broad, white, and magnificent, sprouting from her shoulderblades and strong enough to bear her into the sky. But all trace of them has been erased, and though the magic gathers there, it is not strong enough to right what has been wronged. It cannot restore what has been gone for too long. Aurora sucks in her breath at the feel of the magic coursing through her, and manages another, "Gently..."

Faanshi forgets to breathe, as the sudden knowledge that the contact with Aurora provides wells through her consciousness. Wings... wings, snowy white where the ones she is accustomed to -- those of Khalid Atar, and it can hardly be said that she is particularly accustomed to the wings of the Son of the Dawn, either -- are sable. The fractious gift called up out of the shudra's mind and called forth through her hands seems to set fire to her palms... and her ears. Involuntarily, she jerks a hand, the hand unheld by Kiera's Teacher, up to rub it frenetically at the side of her sari-covered head. Breathless, she croaks, "H... how?"

"It was a long time ago." Aurora's voice is flat and toneless, momentarily losing that soothing rhythm she had adopted, and her clear grey eyes are veiled by her lashes as she glances downward -- lest anything be betrayed in her expression. Faanshi's gift -- her power... and perhaps at some points in the past she viewed it as her curse -- is still flowing through her, and it affords an intimate connection unlike any other. Faanshi can feel her withdrawal, attuned to her body as she is. Emotions are housed in a physical body, with physical manifestations, and the slight retreat of her hand, the uncomfortable shift of her weight, and her downcast eyes present a formidable barrier. Yet she forces herself to recover from the imagery that the young healer's question conjured up, and asks one of her own. "Tell me what you see."

Linked as she has become, the shudra draws in a pained little breath, making a small groan at the sensations overpowering her consciousness. "Wings," comes her tiny, breathless reply. "I can see your wings... oh, imphada, I am so sorry...!" Her eyes press closed, and her voice turns ragged; the golden hand that still holds Aurora's now grips it in a rush of emotion. Faanshi's other hand presses to her temple, and her head bows a little, her shoulders hunching as if to ward off a blow... or bearing a weight upon them.

"What else do you see?" Aurora asks. Her voice is gentler, and her fingers give Faanshi's a slight, encouraging squeeze. "A healer once told me that when she touched someone, she could see all the pain and all the potential inside them. That sickness was a darkness, and that good health glowed inside like a beacon. I always wished I had eyes to see such a thing..." Her voice trails off and she gives the shudra's hand another fleeting squeeze. "What can you see?"

Her magic churns in her blood and her belly, and Faanshi is dizzied, for the magic wants out now that it has been called up, and she does not know how to make it subside. In fits and starts, it pricks at her palms and her ears beneath her sari, and it tightens her throat, roughening her words. "I... have n-not been allowed... to touch anyone, save the W-Warlord," she stammers. "When he was... sick, or wounded... it just burned, and.... and..." Her hand in Aurora's begins to shake.

Aurora's fingers tighten around Faanshi's and she leans a little closer, pitching her voice low yet intent, to give the words weight. "Whatever he did to you, it was not right. Not right. He used your gift selfishly and cruelly, and he punished you for it. He made you feel shame and fear... didn't he?" Her voice softens as her grey eyes seek out the young woman's leaf-green ones. "You should not fear it. It is a gift to be shared. You have the ability to soothe pain. To mend. To ease. To make whole what was broken. You must learn to see the beauty in it."

Faanshi does not confirm the crimes of Hashim -- but then again, she doesn't need to, with that wary, frightened, liquid look of her gaze. Those green eyes peek up from over the top of her veil, stricken; her other hand, the one that has pressed against her head, comes down to curl unconsciously about her middle. "I w-want to," she rasps, drinking down the words like water, craving the reassurance even though she is half-certain she won't get its like again any time in the foreseeable future. "B-but I do not know... how to begin... the Khalid, H-He said that my m-magic must not go awry...!" She shrinks down a little, clearly terrified.

"Sshhh," Aurora soothes and she reaches out with her other hand, hesitantly, to touch the shudra's veiled cheek. It is not that her movements are uncertain -- it is merely that she does not know how the gesture will be received. Her serene mask is back in place and she reassures the girl with, "Khalid Atar can be... stern. And intimidating. He expects much -- sometimes too much -- of others." Her mouth sets in a resolute line as she continues to hold Faanshi's gaze. "But you must go at your own pace. You have used this power, yet I do not think you have truly learned what it is for. Everyone makes mistakes -- it comes with the process of learning." A brief smile flits over her lips as she squeezes the hand that's still holding hers. "But you have made the first step. Was it so difficult?"

"There is... very much I have not learned," Faanshi whispers abashedly. But the touch is accepted, and the firm, soothing voice seems to do good, settling the fluttering of the girl's golden fingers. What is seen of her features crinkle up in bemusement at the description of the Amir-al -- perhaps the idea of the god expecting too much of someone strikes her as difficult to comprehend. Then, half-hesitant, half-hopeful, she adds, "I... haven't... burned you...?" Her voice comes out from behind her veil raggedly, as though she whispers round a lump in her throat.

Aurora's smile broadens and she moves her hand -- flexing her fingers within the healer's grasp -- without actually removing it from her touch. "Look and see."

She still reels some, does this shudra; her recalcitrant power, denied a passage out to re-make the wings it knows should Be, demands some kind of outlet. Faanshi can feel it. Desperate to avoid harming the Teacher, she thinks only to call the power back into herself. It shoots back into her, but sullenly, roiling in her belly and blood, and making her queasy. Green eyes, a trifle glazed, nevertheless peer half-hesitantly, half-hopefully at the hand to which Faanshi yet clings... can it be true? Did she call back the power properly?

And there is Aurora's hand -- smooth, unblemished, unscathed. She flexes her fingers again for Faanshi's benefit, then turns her hand this way and that so that she can see that there are no hidden marks caused by the magic. "You see?" she asks. "There was no need to fear. There is trust involved... you must trust yourself and your abilities. Your magic wants to come out. It wants to be free. Over time, you will learn to free it without losing control and having to pull it back in." Canny, this one -- she must have glimpsed the look of discomfort in those leaf-green eyes and guessed at the way the healer turned her gift in on itself. With a conviction so sincere that she might well impart Faanshi with some of it, Aurora promises, "You will learn."

A choked, but glad little sound escapes the girl in the veil, as Faanshi beholds the undamaged hand still within her grasp. "I want to learn," she breathes, her voice still hoarse... but perhaps, just perhaps, braced up a bit with that very conviction offered in the grey gaze upon her. "I want... if the Amir-al says that I may, and if there are any who would teach..." But with that, Faanshi falters.

Aurora's faint smile has not yet fled. "Such a gift as yours is not one to be overlooked or squandered. I suspect that the Khalid will see that you are taught. And..." she hesitates, a look of compassion entering her gaze. "If you like, I can continue to instruct you myself, in what little capacity I may." Her voice softens. "For as long as I remain with the Varati."

Faanshi goes very still, and those leaf-hued, slanted eyes above her sky-blue veil go wide. Then she abruptly begins to tremble again, her entire upper body subtly quivering even as she bows as deeply as one seated can bow. "You honor me, imphada...!" she manages to whisper, her voice made no less fervent, no less grateful, by its lack of volume.

"Aurora," Aurora gently corrects with a faint widening of her smile. She reaches out again -- a gesture made in kindness and companionship -- to slide her fingers against the young woman's veiled cheek. Some part of her heart goes out to her -- this earnest, green-eyed, orphan waif -- and she cannot resist the brief show of affection. Then, freeing her hand from Faanshi's, she rises once more to her feet. "I will come to see you again," she promises. "And tell you what more I know of your gift."

"Aurora," Faanshi repeats softly. Her veil hides her mouth, and so it cannot be said whether she smiles -- but those green eyes kindle with unmistakable gratitude and perhaps even a bit of shy anticipation. As the Teacher stands, that leaf-hued gaze lifts to follow the motion, while the shudra girl's golden hands unconsciously seek one another out, fingertips rubbing at her still-pricking palms. "I will look forward to it, and if there is any way I can serve you in return... please, let me know...!"

Understanding the girl's need to 'repay' this debt -- which is not a debt at all, at least in Aurora's eyes -- the 'teacher' nods nonetheless. "I shall," she answers. And then, with a swirl of her kamiz's silky, sky-blue material against her booted calves, she turns and disappears among the Varati tents, her destination unknown.

FIN  

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