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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Quickleaf" data-source="post: 7356326" data-attributes="member: 20323">There is no questioning the sha'ir's eloquence, speaking as one who intimately understands the workings of genie culture, and even though his request for their True Names comes as a bitter wind to Ashtigal and Yehianna, they cannot dispute it. The promise of a return to their home on the Plane of Air is too great. The elder Al-Aeshma watching the ritual bows his head, a subtle sign to the other two to agree. All wind seems to have stopped in the wadi (dry riverbed) where you've made camp. It is eerily silent.Folding her arms across her chest, it is Yehianna with her regal bearing who steps forward first. Her lips move silently, but she looks into Salahuddin's eyes and worlds of meaning are exchanged. Only Salahuddin can hear a roaring wind in his mind's ear, the fierce and imperious True Name that Yehianna was given when the world was young. It defies language and yet Salahuddin knows the female al-aeshma's True Name, hearing it echo in the chasm of his soul. Head bowed, Yehianna speaks, "Grant me your forgiveness, oh wise sha'ir, that I may seek the grace of the Lords of Air and sway their hearts." Quietly, she floats back, mastering her pride.Begrudgingly, Ashtigal steps forward, furrowing thick brows dubiously at the sha'ir. At the last moment, he turns back to the elder Al-Aeshma with a snarl, a questioning look burned into his face. An impassive nod, motioning him to step forward is all the elder offers. The exhalation of defeat is like a bull's breath beating down onto Salahuddin's head. "Very well. I too seek your pardon, sha'ir, for any way in which I have aggrieved the Great Caliph of All Djinn. Only you can release me from this bondage, this exile to the forsaken places of the world. Grant me your mercy..." His head is bowed and his eyes furrowed with emotion when Yehianna discretely clears her throat. "Oh, ah, that is all. And I shall tell you my True Name..." With that, Ashtigal moves his lips silently, but to Salahuddin's ears it is a name that sounds like the rattle of death on the eve of a great battle, a hissing erratic wind. Eyes locked on Salahuddin, Ashtigal floats back as well.</blockquote>

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