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Date Posted: 20:51:02 11/27/01 Tue
Author: Sarra
Subject: a little...help?
In reply to: Isobel 's message, "Exchanges and interchanges" on 20:13:36 11/27/01 Tue

Sarra watched the proceedings with laid-back interest. It was slightly amazing, actually, at the complete male-ness of her company. Granted it was predictable that men would give each female newcomer a cursory once-over, but this rapt attention on each new arrival really was quite funny, if one decided to take note of it.

Sarra decided she liked Isobel, though she gathered it would be unlikely with many other women. Sarra’s self-assurance, however, had progressed to a point at which it could not be threatened (in her experience insofar, however, though eventually life would probably lead her to learn otherwise), especially by a fellow female endowed with a physical person bound to be rapidly assessed and approved of by male eyes. She was secure enough in her other talents not to mind, unless it jeopardized a project of her own. Besides, why shouldn’t all women use whatever tools the Gods had afforded them? Isobel looked one to do so and Sarra admired her thoroughly for it.

She didn’t fail to notice, either, Tia’s interaction with Rowan, or lack thereof, and sighed slightly. Sara’s been interested in pursuing Rowan for an evening’s company, but now it seemed she’d have to restrain herself from it. This Tia was younger, less wise, and obviously more vulnerable than Sarra’s cool demeanor had ever allowed her to be. No matter what she’d done or how many she’d disregarded in the past, Sarra’s fairly newly discovered morals often recalled her from behavior she knew she’d eventually regret.

When Ravin stood to look for his Roc and Isobel followed, Sarra had a mind to do the same. Without thinking she pushed herself up from the table, and stumbled back against her chair, dizzy, when a wave of pain fell across her mind like a cloak. Shaking herself back to awareness, she clutched at her arm and found that the movement had opened the scab in the deep welt she’d attained the day before.

Cursing under her breath, her gaze roamed across the room and caught on the one that was a healer, Valhorek, whom she hadn’t met but obviously soon would. Blinking back the tears that were pooling in the depthless silver of her dark blue eyes, she rubbed the heel of her better hand over her eyelids and touched his arm, offering a smile when he turned to her.

“Hello, I’m Sarra. Don’t think we’ve met.” She loosened the tight grip her fingers had taken on her upper arm, and then drew her hand away reluctantly to reveal the aging wound, blossoming red across the fabric of her shirt. “I hope it’s not a bother, but I’d appreciate it if you’d have a look at this.”

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