Moonchild [Dhatzu]

[Tamsin]

Who: Dhatzu
When: 50th of Summer, 511 AV

She looked up, though, tucking the little piece of paper that she used as a bookmark between the pages and closing pages of the book, folding all six of her hands on top of it and waiting. It was time. Six arms became two, her skin paled, her hair lengthened and straightened out as it pooled in the chair beside her. There was a greater weight to her head, from the hair and the horns, and she waited, and breathed. Sensing the metamorphosis was complete, Tamsin opened her eyes again, and settled to read some more about Zintila and her involvement of the city and the stars.

Leth was high in the sky once Tamsin left the Library, one of the last to leave, having tucked the book back on its shelf. Another day. She knew where she had put the book, back where it was supposed to be, and that was all she needed to find it again. For now, though, she adjusted her sari, tucking herself under the silken drape and beginning her nightly stroll, watching, observing, and taking her sweet time. It was always interesting to see those who dwelt here and how they reacted to seeing her in the streets. She drifted, almost, with no set destination just yet. Under his eyes, the Moonchild knew that she was never alone. She listened to the wind in the peaks, pausing at a particularly insistent gust, and waited it out, looking up at the moon as it reflected off of her horns.

To an onlooker, she was strange and ethereal, Chosen of Leth, and seemingly cursed to mortality once again. Tamsin did not see it that way. He had promised her that she had more to do. That this had happened for a reason. She just wished she knew why it was so, why it was her, but she could only trust in His guidance for this. But in any case, it came down to one thing - He had need of her. She had fulfilled that need before. It was simply her turn once again. With the wind calmed, the Ethaefal began to walk once more, accompanied by the silken rustlings of her attire.

The moon is bright tonight.

[Dhatzu]

The aged book lay open upon the heavy wooden table, the page had not been turned for a quarter bell. The Shinya acolyte had slipped into the library late, finding a break in his exercises to indulge in some reading. The library was sparsely occupied, and, intent on getting into the book he had uncovered, the young man all but ignored the other patrons. Dhatzu had been intently studying the ancient tome, indulging his passion for unveiling secrets of the past. Since, as a child, his pursuit and eventual discovery of the shrine cavern where Zintila herself first passed the divine art of Akarni to mortal man, his hunger for lost history had never waned. The location, nor even the discovery of the place itself, had ever been breathed to another soul. For in that carved cave, Akajia herself rewarded him for his tenacious hunt for the place, and his ability to guard secrets. The Mistress of the Night marked him, left him with divine gifts, and from that night forward, the young man's humble devotions were shared by both Zintila and Akajia. But fifteen chimes ago, something had drawn Dhatzu's attention from his studies. A woman, herself pouring over an old book, sat a few tables over. A woman he had somehow overlooked. Only a great distraction could turn the passionate youth from his study, and this being proved to be just that. The...woman...was extraordinary. Most immediate were the curled horns that protruded from her temples, deep green, almost glassy in appearance, though they did not appear fragile in any way. A mane of dark silky hair hung from her head, over the back of her chair to nearly brush the floor. Her skin was creamy and unblemished, like the surface of a cup of okomo milk. The woman's features, what he could see, were feminine and beautiful, as if carved from pale stone by a master craftsman, but as smooth as the skin of a nectarine. In short, to Dhatzu she appeared divine. The silvery mark on her forehead confirmed as much, for the man did recognize that it related to Leth. The lhavitian looked down again, an open scroll laid over part of the old book before him, hastily fetched after first seeing the being. Drawn on the scroll was the image of a handsome man, curved horns projecting from his head, much like the woman. The title of the article next to the picture read "Ethaefal". That being sitting in the very same room as he was one of the Leth's fallen souls. A giddy excitement had overcome the young man, and he had found himself enthralled by simply watching her. Though she moved very little as she read, each movement seemed as fluid as oil poured over a smooth stones. A hushed Makath whisper drifted from beneath the acolyte's table. "Staring is rude NightWalker." It was the small shadow Dhatzu called Little One. A curious but harmless shade that often followed the lhavitian and asked too many questions. Dhatzu kicked under the table, a reaction more than a deliberate act, as his foot would find no substance to strike in the shadows. "Hush!" He muttered. His eyed darted up again to see that the woman had closed her book and stood. If she appeared exceptional as she sat, the ethaefal now seemed regal at full height. Taller than he, the woman indeed appeared truly statuesque, the epitome of perfection in contour and form. Book in hand, she appeared to almost glide as she walked, the nobility of her gait and posture putting to shame the aristocrats of Lhavit's noble houses. For a breath, Dhatzu wondered if once again, he had found himself in the presence of a goddess. Quickly gathering the scroll and book, he hastily handed it off to a startled white-robed Seeker and slipped between the ornate shelves to follow the ethereal creature. Dhatzu followed her out into the night, passing the guards at the library's doors, their own eyes still fixed on the radiant being that had exited the building before the acolyte. Only in the full, rich moonlight, did the ethaefal finally exhibit her full glory. A silvery sheen reflected across her skin as she moved, her horns almost luminescent in Leth's pale light. Moving from shadow to shadow, the Night Stalker trailed the woman, enthralled by her exotic grace and otherworldly bearing. A particularly strong gust blew down from the peaks and she paused, as if inquiring. Dhatzu too halted, backing into the dim shade of an roof's overhang.

[Tamsin]

She didn’t seem to notice the way others stared at her. If she felt it was rude or unnatural, she didn’t notice it - perhaps she ignored it. But as it was, Tamsin didn’t notice it. She did not know the customs of this place - such things couldn’t be learned in a season, not even half of one, and as such, she did not comment or offer remonstration - it was not her place to do so. She did not understand the reverence for people - they were passing. What if she was a complete and total monster on the inside, underneath her milky skin and startling eyes? But their staring didn’t hurt anything, after all. Any guilt they would feel from it would have to come from their own scruples.

She looked up at the sky as she walked, more, perhaps, than she looked around her at what was there before her. The wind pulled at the silk she wrapped around herself, the drape of fabric over one exposed arm. The skirt and blouse she wore did not meet each other, leaving an expanse of exposed skin around her midsection. Exposed and yet not - he could see flashes of whiteness from time to time as the wind pulled at the silken wrap she wore around her, only for the drape and her long mane of black hair to close it off again. She took her time - following her was not an issue, not when others moved so much faster. Dhatzu could easily get the feeling that the creature he was tailing felt that there was all the time in the world.

Perhaps, for her, there was.

She walked onwards for a while, no longer looking up at the sky, judging by the angle of her head, but at the world around her once more. The stones of the street were something she seemed to find interesting, along the with the buildings and the plants and the birds that sang in the darkness of the sky. There was something truly wondrous about this place at night that she liked even more so during the day. Maybe it was the way Leth became so prominent - Syna outshone Him during the day, but during the night... the night was His time. Something caught her ear, though, and while she did not pause, Tamsin turned her head slightly to the right, barely a fraction of an angle, but the horns indicated the movement well... had she heard him? ...only to look forward once again. “Do you find that the moon is bright tonight?” Her voice was quiet, like someone well-used to never having to speak up for others to listen, no matter how far away they were. She was bluffing - she wasn’t sure if anyone was there, but her gut feeling told her that if she felt like she was being watched, then, perhaps, she was.

[Dhatzu]

The blue-clad acolyte did his best to remain unseen, darting through the orange, yellow and white clothed residents of Tenten Peak, the radiance of their patron Syna now supplanted by the realms of Leth, Zintila and Akajia. It was the shadowy sphere of the latter goddess that now enveloped Dhatzu as he slipped to the darkness between buildings, under overhangs and behind hulking statues. The Night Mistress' minions, shadow-things, skittered about him as well, whispering among themselves. A few often followed the Night Stalker, even as he followed the Ethaefal, hoping to see him commit some amusing faux pas or uncover some juicy secret. The dark wraiths were of no concern to the acolyte at the moment. Of course he knew there were Ethaefal's in Lhavit. But they were rare indeed, and he had never had the chance to see one. This one was a beauty. She glided over the flagstones in an unhurried pace, casting long glances at the star-studded sky, the architecture around her, even the stone ground. The lhavitian could not fathom the mind of one practically immortal, the tall Eth seeming to examine her surroundings as if she were just discovering the city. It was said they fell through cracks in the Ukalas, to tumble into the seas and crawl out, left to fend for themselves. It always sounded a bit like folklore to the acolyte. Perhaps it was true. One way or another, he was going to find out. This being was wrapped in mystery, and he was going to uncover it. His gaze lingered on the bared flesh that appeared now and again as the light breezed tugged at her hair and wispy garments. How much like a human woman was she? His musings were cut short as he caught the subtle tilt of the glossy green horns. He heard her lilting voice and quicky sent his gaze in a darting circle. There was no one closer than he. The Eth's voice was soft and unphased, as if Dhatzu were walking right next to her. Surely he had been discovered. An excitable shadow giggled somewhere behind him. He could deny he heard it, play off his suspicious behavior with some passable excuse. A plausible lie began to form on his lips, but went no further. Did he not want to learn about her? Did he not want to see her close up? His discovery may not have been ill-timed after all. Dhatzu, as casual as he could, strolled out of the shadows cast by a giant statue of some past hero of the Dawn House. "It appears so, doesn't it? I believe it just seems to glow brighter away from the lights of Surya Plaza." The young man spoke casually, or as casually as he could muster as he stepped into Leth's light, his eye caught by the fleeting shimmering along the milky skin of the Ethaefal's arms, and glimpses of her midriff. Distracting too were the green, glassy horns. They did not give her the appearance of a monster, as one might think. In fact, somehow they seemed to enhance her appeal. "I find a bright moon my favorite." Dhatzu added. "The pale light creates deep shadows." It was a rather honest statement, intent on engaging the being in a conversation. She was a fascinating find, and the young man would do his best to linger in the Ethaefal's company.

[Tamsin]

She stopped altogether to give him a chance to catch up to her, head up and looking ahead until he approached, waiting for him, closing her eyes contentedly against the breeze. Once he was beside her, though, Tamsin inclined her head in greeting. Her mismatched eyes, violet and indigo, each flecked with the silver that formed a ring on her forehead, open now, providing an almost shocking contrast against her milky skin. So she had been right about being watched, after all. Well, she supposed, that chalked up one for listening to your instincts.

It was a young man, it seemed, that had been on her trail. She wondered how old he was - the Ethaefal had found that she was not a particularly good judge of this. But age was only a number, and an insignificant one at that. It made her wonder how old she truly was, not that she had the faintest, foggiest notion of how to possibly calculate such a thing. If she had been with Leth since before the sundering, and it was over 500 years since then - everyone told her that the year was 511 - then she supposed she was getting up there. People were strange, the stock they always put in the words of those who were older; as if no one younger could be wise in their own ways.

Wisdom has no age.

“His radiance always comes through the most when there is nothing to intercept it,” Tamsin was agreeable. “He is always there. But other lights seem brighter and illuminate in their own way. But I prefer His. It is warm and soothing, where the sun, Syna forgive me, can be much harsher without intending it. His light plies the shadows well. It is enough without being overwhelming. Leth understands moderation. I think that that in itself is a lost art, don’t you think? People spend their days going from extreme to extreme.... only to forget to come back to the middle.” She did not fidget as she walked, touching her hair or horns or rearranging her clothing with self-consciousness. It likely never occurred to her to do so. She took her time with her words, it seemed, just as she took time just to move. It was a slow gait, more of a stroll, really, as if the idea of rushing was anathema to her nature.

“Perhaps people imagine the middle to be a dull sort of living, with the trials and tribulations of the day...” She pondered that for a moment, glancing at him to see what he thought of it. Up close, when she moved her head, he could see the tiny, delicate silver chain that linked a number of little silver rings in her ears. “But perhaps that is what comes from dreaming beyond one’s reach. Expectations are set so high that they cannot help but fail to be met, leading to a crushing sense of defeat... instead of recognizing life’s little victories along the way.” It may have been a strange link of conversation, but to Tamsin, it made sense - any dozen things could be linked from one, if one only sat and thought about it, and gave it some consideration. Besides, she found that she liked company - she liked having someone to air her thoughts to and to listen to theirs. Soon he had another little victory, as she introduced herself without prompting. “My name is Tamsin. What do you call yourself?”

Loneliness has its place and time, but it is not tonight.

[Dhatzu]

Dhatzu strove to don the persona of confidence and significance, unwilling to let the Ethaelfal detect the giddy turning in his stomach at the mere presence of the unearthly being. He had never seen the Sun Lady, nor the Moon Lord, Lhavit's ruling Ethaefals. They were legendary to say the least. This particular Eth may not have been a ruler, or even hold a significant position, but the air of her person exuded otherworldliness, drawing the young mortal man like a moth to a flame. The acolyte drew up next to the woman, for she seemed to have invited him to do so when she engaged in conversation. Intent on keeping his eyes from her, Dhaztu found the attempt impossible, and his eyes darted frequently to her, each stolen glance studying another aspect of the mysterious person. The animalistic horns, the mismatched vibrant hue of her eyes, and the silvery mark of Leth's on her forehead, as bright and shimmering as Akajia's mark on his back was dark and penetrating. Tamsin spoke like the wizened old men in the tea houses. She appeared too young to speak with such eloquence and depth, though her appearance truly did defy attempts to pinpoint an age. His gaze drifted sidelong again at Tamsin, noting that they met eye to eye, her stature perhaps an inch or two taller than he. Dhatzu recognized the moment as an opportunity. An Ethaefal was a unique thing, having one as a friend or ally would be quite a boon. Besides, she was intriguing, and fascinating even to simply gaze upon. The young man listened with care to the Eth's words, intent to engage her in dialogue, even though she spoke in a rather pensive strain. Much of what Tamsin shared challenged the young lhavitian, the words of a timeless being falling on the ears of a human who had just become a man, whose thoughts barely acknowledged that his existence was truly but a vapor compared to hers. "Moderation. It is the mantra of the Shinya." He spoke, perhaps a bit too frankly. "But extremes are what help define us, shape us, and remind us what it means to be alive. I grow weary of dwelling in the middle." Dhatzu chuckled derisively. "Dreams, some have them. I had dreams, but they have begun to become hollow, perhaps the goals to which I aspire are not so desirable as they once were." The lhavitian spoke with a candor unusual for him, especially in the company of a stranger, and once he realized it, his glance again darted to the strange woman at his side. A light breeze drifted again from the mounts, tugging at the light fabric of her garb and the edges of her lengthy mane, lazily shifting the hem of the acolyte's robes. He bit back the plethora of innane questions he wanted to ask, elementary questions about where she came from, what was she doing here, what she appeared like when Leth and Syna exchanged control of the skies. Those were the questions of a child.

[Tamsin]

Likely much to Dhatzu’s relief, Tamsin did not comment on the way he kept sneaking glances at her, though she hardly noticed them. She listened as he spoke, and appreciated what seemed to her the frank honesty that came from an age before they sought to temper and censor themselves. She found it refreshing. People seemed to guard their words with her, as if they feared hurting someone with them. Her or them? Did it matter? But mere words were only words. They only had as much power as one gave them. It was a basic truth.

“One can only find their balance by knowing when they’ve lost it,” she said agreeably. She didn’t outright confirm or refute his statement - it was up to him, it seemed, to decide how to take that. She, herself, had no need for the extremes yet. She had much to learn, much to discover, and naively lacked the cynicism wrought by life’s unfair twists and turns. His words kept her from that. She had no true desire to look at the world through permanent melancholy and bitterness. There was enough pain and sadness in this world without her adding her own self-indulgent misery to it. Sulking about her lot in this life would not help her with her own quest.

The strangeness of his chuckle made her wonder, but she did not comment. Why did a sound of mirth take that sort of tone?... unless it wasn’t really a sound of mirth at all. But she would unravel it yet. Perhaps she wouldn’t. Perhaps that had something to do with his failing to introduce himself as well. Maybe she simply wasn’t a sort of company he was interested in. What would be, would be. “Enough is as good as a feast, isn’t it? Should one gorge themselves to the point of sickness even once they’ve had enough? But perhaps that is how one learns when they fail to listen the first warning.” She smiled faintly as her eyes met his when he glanced at her just as she was looking back at him. “You speak of the Shinya. What is the Shinya? What do they stand for? Are you one of their numbers?” Perhaps that had something to do with the clothing that he wore. She could have sworn she had seen others attired in a similar fashion...

Before, where she would have stopped from the wind blowing as it did, she carried on, the wind making the chains tinkle and chime at her ears. “Why is it so, do you think? We should follow our dreams... for what we dream are what we shall become. The dream of yesterday is the hope of today... and the reality of tomorrow.” She certainly had no problems being forward to the point of the fact that it may have been rude to ask such a deeply personal thing, but if it was, Tamsin didn’t realize it. “Is it a fault, or a benefit, do you think, that people cannot fall in love with what is in front of them? That they want a dream, what they cannot have. The more unattainable, the more attractive. Is the bitterness worth it in the long run?”

[Dhatzu]

A wry grin crossed Dhaztu's face as Tamsin offered her perspective on balance. It was a nugget of truth, a wisdom worthy of the old scholars who debate in the tea houses. The young lhavitian honored those sagely men and women, but he did not think so lowly of himself to believe he didn't have some understanding of the world as well. "True, but how can one know they are out of balance, if they have never known true center?" His statement was true as well, he believed, but Dhatzu realized after he so proudly spoke his counsel, that it was somewhat irrelevant. Most likely the Ethaefal would considered it a youthful attempt to sound intelligent above his years, instead of an edifying contribution to the conversation. But to tangle words with one of the Eth's of Lhavit was more than he could have hoped for, and the young man felt a daring in her presence, Tamsin drawing him into a philosophical quandary almost immediately. Dhatzu nodded as she continued. "Its true, it seems as if some of us only learn the value of self-control by experiencing the consequence of the lack of it." He shuddered, realizing he sounded just like Aleto. Another thought danced on his tongue, wanting to be spoken, but Dhatzu refrained. The acolyte, in his heart, wanted to test those consequences, to satisfy his curiosity about those things done beyond the edges of temperance. He had not voiced this thought to anyone, not even the shadows. The charisma of this otherworldly being was difficult to resist, but the looming shadow of a nearby lion statue reminded him the wisdom of keeping some things to one's self. Seeing the shadow posed an often pondered thought. Is the Mistress of the Shadows watching him? Dhatzu knew Akajia's concerns did not include the ways of men. He had not seen her since she marked him in that secret cave as a young teen. But sometimes he thought he felt her again. Her apparent lack of attention did not deter him from offering his adoration and devotion, his worship of the alluring night goddess steadily waxing stronger than his love for the Star Lady herself. Tamsin's inquiry about the Shinya surprised him, dispelling the assumption that this Ethaefal had been in Lhavit for any amount of time. He was glad to take the role of teacher for the beautiful Eth, if only in that small matter. "The Shinya are the defenders of Lhavit. Its warriors and enforcers of law." Though his dedication to the order may be shaking, Dhatzu still spoke his words with a subtle air of pride. Tamsin proffered further thoughts on the subject of one's dreams, asking rather directly why Dhatzu's seemed to have faded. The young man shrugged, his gaze set on the pools of light marking the way ahead of them. "Perhaps they were not my dreams after all. Perhaps it was the dream of my parents for me, to follow in their footsteps, and I never stopped to consider whether I had aspirations of my own." "People," and Dhatzu realized he meant regular people, not those like Tamsin, "...are short sighted when it comes to what they want. They cannot, or don't want to, see the toll of unattained dreams. And it is true, what we cannot have, we want more." An almost involuntary glance was once again directed at the tall, stauesque Ethaefal. "By the way, I am Dhatzu." He added, just realizing he had not returned the favor of identifying hemself.

[Tamsin]

She nodded, faintly pleased at his comments on balance and moderation. If it had been a debate, she may have considered it a concession to her stance on balance. But as it was, to hear such wisdom from a young person here, that was more than enough. Oh, one never knew how far they could go until they gave it their all, and while some such ventures were worthy of the risk and hazards that went with them, she was more inclined towards neutrality, to the balance. To neither one extreme or the the other. While it was true that she loved her God with all her heart, in this life and any to follow, that seemed to be her lone exception. From a position of neutrality could one really reflect on things and see both sides of the issues. Perhaps it was simply because she had yet to discover an appreciation or loathing either way on something. But she had a motive to this preamble, this philosophical talk, and it was simply that she wanted to know more about the young man who kept pace with her, in foot and word. This was as good a way as any - history and suchlike did not matter to her. What mattered was the now - who they are, and eventually, what they would be. Anyone could change the past and future... neglecting to nurture the present.

The Ethaefal had seen a few of the Shinya around. She never knew what to make of them or what purpose they served, because it seemed that everyone had a different answer for their purpose. She understood that she had arrived during a time of change, for better or for worse. From what she heard, things were being restored, returned to what they were before and what they were supposed to be. It seemed like a better way of life than it had been. Here, at least, she felt welcome, though more so at night than during the day, but welcome nonetheless, and from what she had heard from passersby, from people who talked without thinking of those who might here, or for the benefit of their listeners, the head had been cut off the snake when the tyrants had been publicly executed. “I see. Thank you,” she inclined her head gravely, as if she was slowly lowering it under a great weight, before looking ahead once again as they continued to walk.

She was quiet again as she listened to him talk about dreams for the parents. Vaguely, she remembered a tall, six-armed woman wearing a linen robe of white, stitched with gold and hemmed with red, tied halter-style at the neck, gold jewelry on her upper arms, her wrists, her ankles; at her forehead, throat, and ears, performing a complicated dance with long, trailing silk fans. The fans were in the colours of red, orange, gold, yellow, and white, all of them sharing two or three of them, each fading to the next. The Eypharian’s arms all moving in a perfect choreography, in a dance in the warm, dry air as the sun rose, taking Her place in the sky. They were on the roof of the temple, as Tamsina followed Kabira’s movements, watching her ritual of supplication. She was watched through the entranced eyes of a child, in white linen of her own, her legs drawn to her chest, six arms wrapped around her knees, listening in rapt awe at the song in Arumenic, greeting and petitioning the Golden Queen... “They have a way of doing that, parents do, don’t they?” she sounded almost dreamy. “They wish to look after their little ones, to use their own experiences, good and bad, to guide their children, to help them make decisions. Perhaps longer than they should, to more impact and effect than they should...” She looked up at the moon again, silent longing in her features when he stole another glance, but she continued her slow walk, the sounds of silk moving in the wind with each step. "Are you a parent?"

“If they cannot stand to accept the nonsuccess,” she was careful not to say failure, “why pursue what they have no likelihood of gaining? If one measures their self by their successes... why do they not choose goals and dreams in which there is a possibility of triumph? Then one has the satisfaction of challenging their limits and enjoying the rewards of success. Is that not better than the self-inflicted torment of unrealized, unattainable dreams?” She took her time with this query, this progression, giving him time to think on it as well. There was no urgency to her mannerisms, nothing to make him feel rushed to reply to her. That was her way. If she made others wait for her words, then she could just as easily wait on theirs. There was no hurry. There was. “What dreams would you have, Dhatzu?”

[Dhatzu]

The Ethaefal spoke with ease, as if each word were carefully contemplated before offered from her full lips. She paused without tension, and Dhatzu's frequent glances caught her as often as not looking up at the glowing moon, as if it were looking back at her from its great distance. The lhavitian knew something about eths, having read about them as soon as he was able to comprehend the complexity of the books about them. He was, after all, one who love things mysterious, and of all the kinds of people who tread Mizahar, the Ethaefal were the most enigmatic. Leth was certainly tamsin's patron, her nocturnal eth form an obvious indicator, her longing glances at the moon only emphasizing the fact. With a calmness, she resumed their conversation, lingering on the subject of aspirations. When she asked if he were a parent, he laughed, maybe too loud, for it felt as if he had shattered some dome of serenity around them. "No, I am not a parent, I am barely an adult." He admitted with a small smile. Tamsin elaborated, better than he could, on his own statement regarding unattainable dreams. Her poignant inquiry regarding his dreams, and the sound of his name on her voice, was more intimate that he expected. It was not the personal nature of the question that gave Dhatzu pause, however, it was the fact that his answer would seem pathetic to the celestial being. "My dreams are still forming. My life is a rigorous regime of training and serving. How can I dream of possibilities outside the order to which I am confined? Unless my dream is to become the best Shinya I can be. Again, that is my parents dream. I can strive to attain it just the same, but it is not mine." A twinge of bitterness, one that has been forming of late, sounded again in his heart. "I want out of the box, to experience life out here, to partake of the things the shadows show me..." the night stalker paused. His affiliation with the realm of Akajia was not something he discussed or revealed lightly, especially to strangers. He quickly moved on. "I want to do things, for once, to please myself." The acolyte's last words sounded more selfish and childish than he wanted, they also were nearly blasphemous when it came to the stoic Shinya order. But it was true. Dhatzu wanted things for himself, he wanted to nurture desires he has been taught to suppress, to feed his affinity for the secrets, the underside of things, the things Akajia's touch on his life seemed to draw him to. A subtle shake of his head dispelled the rebellious notions. Dhatzu was suddenly uncomfortable with the subject, so he attempted to change it. "You have just...arrived, haven't you?" His question could easily be taken as an inquiryregarding her arrival in Lhavit. His intent was to discover how recently she had fallen from the sky.