bigotries and biases

[Sir Aman-ud-Din Ghassan Sayyid]

bigotries and biases
«all the world is but a looking glass, for not one gaze mirrors another, mere similarities coincide and intertwine..»

Aman-ud-Din- Aman-ud-Din trusted his stallion to take Tahirah back to safety. If men thought that horses were brainless and without sensibility, they apparently did not know the value of an Arabian stallion, who had much personality to contest that claim! Tahirah cried openly, not caring who saw. She was scared, afraid for Aman-ud-Din and what those men might do. She had faith in her guardian, but there were many more of them than Aman-ud-Din! Odds were against him, and she did not want him to die. So many thoughts went through her head as Bess cooed and spoke soft words to help ease her. When her feet finally touched the ground, she sniffled and held her hand to her mouth, staring up at Bess and Salah al Din. Walking over to the stallion, she rubbed his leg, the only thing she could properly reach. "Don't let him be there alone...bring me back Aman-ud-Din!..." And she started bawling all over again. The stallion snorted and nodded. The horse wanted to get back to his rider as well! These people were much too slow for the stallion's taste. Turning brown eyes to Bess, Salah al Din snort, and threw his head back, motioning for her to get on. And, when she did, Bess would find that the stallion shot off like a cannon with speed unmatched by any European horse. With all haste the stallion made for the woods again, where he had left his rider. Aman-ud-Din, meanwhile, was trying to hold his own. Steel clashed and rang out in the woods as the two in the middle parried and thrust, the man unused to a style of fighting that was purely unlike the Western world. The Arab was fast, whipping that blade around in his hands skillfully, his other hand held up as a defense, just in case. Finally, seeing an opening, the long scimitar took it's taste of flesh as it sunk into the chest cavity of the robber. He gasped and gurgled, before falling over dead. That sent the others in an uproar. Some dismounted while others were still on their horses, riding in circles. Two came at him with swords raised, and Parrying one, he kicked the other back into the ground. His attention was to the swordsman standing now, and as he swung, a horse rode by. Aman-ud-Din turned in time to see a flail being swung and aimed for his head! Eyes widening, he ducked and dodged the chain and ball weapon, only to feel steel slicing through his arm. Hissing in pain, he stumbled back and twirled the sword in his hand. He would have to watch it, these men were not playing fair. Blocking another thrust of sword, the other had gotten to his feet by now and was charging toward him. Hopping back as the other swung, Aman-ud-Din shoved one into the other, and sent them both momentarily into the ground. BANG. The end of the flail bashed into the side of his head, sending the Arab to the ground and seeing stars for a moment as the rider moved passed, and wheeled around for another attack. The remaining two horsemen were still riding circles, watching and ready to help if they needed to. Already, the Arab could feel the blood trickling down the side of his head from the blow. Blinking rapidly, he grabbed his sword and rose to his feet, just in time to block another hack by still with his own sword.

Beathag- She heard nothing of their protests, and they knew that nothing could be done to remedy it. Aman-un-Din was a valued, cherished friend, one that she owed a great deal to. One could never repay debts among those that always gave so freely of themselves. Dash! Before she could inhale a breath, the stallion shamed the wind with how fast he rode! Indeed, he could make any King of Europe's finest horse pale in comparison. His sleek, dark frame was little more than a shadow with flickering hints of gold from the hair atop Beathag's head as she but held on while the creature carried her to the place of altercation. Perhaps this was why she remained limber, active, and good with weaponry. No, she would never go again to the front lines with the Griffin's marching army..but what of times like this? What if a call was issued that couldn't be ignored? At the Castle, horses were being saddled, men were gathering in the courtyard to ride in the hoof prints of one who had gone before. The Arabian horse left quite a gap for them to follow by way of time, for soon they passed the fields and into the foliage of the forest. Other horse hoofs caught her first, followed by the voices, grunts of men, the sound of steel. Turning for one instant of cover, the bow was unlatched to come into her hands. Reaching over her shoulder, the arrow was made ready in utter silence. No one anticipated a return, it seemed, no one thought any would come to assist an infidel. The man with the flail would hear a distinct, quick whistle pierce the air around him. Too late to avoid it, an arrow would lodge in the soft, pliable flesh of his arm pit.

Aman-ud-Din- Bess was no great weight for the stallion to bear. In fact, she was lighter than Aman-ud-Din,but certainly heavier than Tahirah. That had not been the concerned of the horse, however. It was not about the weight of persons upon his back; rather, it was about getting to his rider with all speed and haste. It would have not been quite as bad, but being outnumbered dwarfed even the best fighter. Aman-ud-Din shouldered the one, pushing him away only to leave his friend open. So that scimitar sunk into the stomach of the thief, and as the man cried out, the weapon was quickly snatched right back out. Hearing hooves again, though that was all he seemed to hear as of late, the man with the flail came rushing towards him. However, that blow from the weapon never came as the arrow went right through cloth and flesh under that raised arm. The rider cried out in pain and dropped the flail, falling to the side and off the saddle. Both horsemen remain turned to look and see who this new attacker was. Aman-ud-Din silently thanked God for the swiftness of whoever came to aid him in such an unfair skirmish. His head was spinning from that blow to the head, but he was trying to keep some sense. His arm was bleeding where the blade had bit into his flesh and torn cloth as he raised the sword again to face his next attack,the remaining swordsman. Twirling the long scimitar in his hand, he slashed at the swordsman, swinging that curved bladed quickly, steel clashing and ringing as they met time and time again. Aman-ud-Din's movements were slowed from the head, but at least he was coherent, that was what mattered. A hit to the arm as the Persian sword sliced into the thief's arm. Then leg. And when the man hissed in pain, the Arab spun around him and raked the blade across the thief's back, cutting into muscles and spine. The man arched backward, and bring the sword behind his knees, the man went to the ground, where Aman-ud-Din finished him off.

Beathag- The two horsemen saw in front of them the Duchess coming out of the line of trees, on top of the horse that had carried the little girl to her castle. Did they know who she was? Bridgandry bands cared more for what they could get when traveler's passed through the forest instead of who's realm it was. She had no doubt that one of her riders would go to Raven Crest, the home of Sir Darius and Dame Kaelyn, calling for aid. She had no doubt in their ability to arrive, only in that she knew by the time they did the outcome would already be decided. "What's this here, eh? Woman with a pair of bullocks, shootin' out. Well let's see what the pretty misses is made of.." She held her place as they came near, "Ye've now tae decide tae back down.." "Mm...maybe after we ruff her up a bit...we can see what's got.." boy-thingyy fools. Reaching over her shoulder again, as the left facing one rode towards her, sword in hand, an arrow shot was aimed for the chest of his mount, causing it to rear back in pain and alarm, spilling him to the ground. While he backed away in angered shock, the second wasn't as slow as his cohort. Coming from the right, the bend of the bow slowed the arc of his sword. She heard the wood crack, felt it shiver under the force as she pushed back on it.

Aman-ud-Din- Aman-ud-Din blinked, stumbling a bit and as he pulled the sword from the victim it had claimed, he leaned on it for a moment. Wait. There were two more riders...where had they gone? Looking around, chocolate eyes finally found the riders, though they had their own battle at foot. It was not until then, as he me stumbled closer, that he noticed...Bess! So she had been his saving grace. Thank the Lord. One horse went down, felled by an arrow of the Duchess, throwing the rider. Of course, he got up, and picked up his sword again. That was a wrong move. Both hands gripped the hilt of his Persian scimitar, and lifted it over his head. With careful aim, the sword was released, sent hurling in the air and slamming into the back of the grounded rider. The blade when threw him as he fell forward with a scream. Jogging towards his felled foe, the Arab pulled his sword out and turned blinking eyes to the last of the robber party that wanted to take more than coin away from him.

Beathag- This one was fighting hard. He must have been an organizer in the band, having more talent than the first rider she'd encountered. He pulled back, sheathing his sword to free his hand. Balling a fist, he went straight for her face. She ducked enough to avoid full impact, taking the brunt of the hit on her cheek, causing her to blink as the world shifted for an instant. Holding to the stallion's mane, she was able to maintain her balance. In the time it took to gain her bearings, he'd dismounted, coming near with intention to pull her off. He only got hold of her shirt, pulling her forward enough to feel the heat from his mouth. Thighs held tight in the saddle, right hand reaching to her hip to take up the hatchet, hacking it into his wrists, forcing him to let go as he began to lose feeling in his hand.

Aman-ud-Din- The Arab would not leave his friend to fight this alone, as she had gone to come to his aid. He was thankful to the Lord that anyone had come at all. Quickly moving towards her and his stallion as the man tried to pull her off, the robber was met with a hatchet to the wrists. The man cried out in pain as he let go, but that would not be the end of his suffering. Coming up behind the man, Aman-ud-Din grabbed his face, tilted his head back to expose a throat, and raising that long, curved sword, the throat was severed and blood came forth. The tall Arab sighed heavily, and blinked again as another wave of darkness danced across his eyes. Thankfully, he shook it off and pushed past it. Blinking again, the blade was wiped off on the man's clothing, before carefully sheathed. Blood covered the side of his head and dampened a few strands of hair as it dripped down the side of his face and on his neck and shoulders. His arm ached from the blade slicing flesh and muscle, but it could have been MUCH worse. "Al hamdu lillah...Thanks be to God that you have come, Bess...are you well? Is Tahirah well?" He knew that she made it to Turas Lan, for Bess was riding Salah al Din! Under normal circumstances, he would let no one but Tahirah or Aman-ud-Din ride him. How strange urgency played a part in this. A large hand patted the shoulder of his horse, before he found himself leaning against the creature, looking up to Bess.

Beathag- If he had taken her off of the horse, she would have been forced into hand to hand combat, the potential he could have been quicker, faster. A blow with the hatchet cut into his wrist, a line of blood flowing over his arm to soak at his sleeved. It proved to be the lesser of two evils as the second blow was the one that ended his life. He was left to fall, gagging last breaths as blood soaked into the ground. Beathag ignored him, looking instead to the injuries of her friend with much concern " Pssht, askin' tha, look at ye..C'mon, can ye get up 'ere? Tahirah is fine, scared but fine...she made it safe..let's get ye safe." By the time they would prepare to leave, all the approaching riders would find would be corpses to take out of the forests. She offered him a hand to get him up.

Aman-ud-Din- Silently, the lofty man of raven hair was thanking the Lord of his divine mercy and protection. His hand had been shielding his children and followers this day. Aman-ud-Din was thankfully and grateful. His own condition was ignored for the time being, though that was hard considering that his arm was throbbing and his head was pounding harshly. A weak smiled appeared on his lips upon hearing Bess words. He must look a mess, but appearance was hardly something the aging Arab was concerned with. It had been about Tahirah and her well being, as well as Bess'. Apparently she was fine, and to know that Tahirah was safe, that sent him sighing in relief. She was safe..that was all that mattered to him, whether he lived of not...though he prayed that he would not perish here for he still had a duty to watch over the little princess of Pern. More riders came, and for a moment he tensed and his hand went to his sword. Not more riders. However, he recognized the banner and the armour they wore. Not a threat, he told himself as he nodded somewhat to Bess before he moved off to gather his cloak, and then mount upon Salah al Din behind the woman of blonde hair. "I am in debt to you, Lady Bess...thanks to God for your swift actions.."

Beathag- "Ye are mah friend, mah good friend..consider all our debts repaid." She looked over her shoulder through a curtain of rag-tag strands to offer him the famous half-smirk. "Let me take ye tae the infirmary, have the Physician put ye back tagether. Ah came out good this time, only one bruise n' a little sore!" Wait until the other Court found out. Somewhere in the distance she could hear Eamonn and Adam lashing their tongues now. But she was whom she was, thank heaven for that. The men in Griffin attire began to look at the scene in front of them, putting body's on the back of horses, searching the woods for other brigands as Beathag turned the horse around to head back to the city. In that moment, when the scene behind them became quiet, she would say, "Ye know, ah could ne'er repay all tha' I owe ye anyhow.." They were no longer dock workers, but the bond that was forged then would always be.

Aman-ud-Din- It was by her swiftness that he did not suffer more injuries than he had now. They had been playing an unfair game of five to one, three of which were on horseback and having him at a disadvantage. He had no shield to block himself from the blows, but had Bess not ended his life with an arrow, who knew how many more times he would have that flail upside his head. He was in need of some putting back together, or at least something to staunch the flow of blood from his arm and head. Dizzy. He tried to fight it, but that hard blow to the head left him tipsy and his head spinning around wildly. He was continuing having to blink to clear the haze and fog from his vision. Leaving the mess of bodies behind then, Aman-ud-Din let Bess steer his horse, for his vision was blurring and bearings were not all there. A large, long, and tapered hand pressed into the side of Beathag for balance, to keep himself from falling off as he sat behid her. "You owe me nothing...but I am glad that you came out with only a bruise this time! I do say that I will be in great need of Camomile tea.." He admitted.

Beathag- "Tea, n' wound washing, n' stiches. Hold fast tae meh now. Does nay want ye tae dae all tha' n' then fall off this horse. Feisty thing he beh, fast! Might have tae stretch out one o' those eye catchin alliances tae bring a few on the island." Keep talking, keep awake. His head was injured, and the loss of blood would bode even worse if he drifted off before he was properly tended. She knew it was harder to tend a head wound in subconscious, given one could see the breathing go too deep, to slow, and drift off all together. Forests to fields, fields to the archway of the gate they passed underneath. "Quite a way tae spend the Christian Sabbath.." she said, so grinned the unapologetic Celtic pagan, "We're almost there m'friend...almost there." Aman-un-Din was among the few people who knew her without pretense, without the falsehood she had lived under for many years before taking her true name back. In truth, she thought of him as her best friend, alongside Aislin and her husband Adam. Heart kin she had plenty of over the years, they fought together, bled, quarreled. Somewhere between silence, steadfastness, and an ardent admiration for his faith and strength, she came to call him her best friend, even if it was not stated often.

[Sir Aman-ud-Din Ghassan Sayyid]

Aman-ud-Din- The ride back to Turas Lan was quite a long one, at least that was how it seemed to Aman-ud-Din as he held onto Bess as Salah al Din sped up. His head was spinning wildly from that blow to the head, and right now, he would have loved to do nothing more than to lay down and sleep. However, he could not until his wounds were looked over, especially his head. That was the worst of the injuries he had. When they did finally reach the city, Tahirah was rushing around, pulling on Aida's skirts to find Aislin. The little princess was the herald of the Arab, for once she found the tall form of Aislin, between sniffles, she was retelling the events that had transpired. They were attacked and Aman-ud-Din sent her away before the men got there, and he was alone with all those bad men. Bess went off to find him as well as a few men to aid in the conflict within the woods. The poor child was panicking and could not stop sniffling and crying. It was not until she saw the tall, dark frame of Aman-ud-Din that she ran over to him and latched her arms around his leg and hugged him tightly. "I was so scared! Those mean men hurt you didn't they!...I told Aislin! Come on you have to get healed!" She babbled on, though much of it was muffled as her face was pressed into his upper thigh. When that head of dark hair came crashing into him, he nearly toppled over, and found himself stumbling back a bit. He blinked back the dark spots that rolled over his vision, and large hands came to rub her back. "Shhh...I am well, Tahirah...no more tears. All is well. Yes, I think a visit to Aislin would be a wonderful idea.." He agreed, his voice showing signs of waning from weariness. Tahirah took his hand and ran toward the infirmary to where she had last seen Aislin. Aman-ud-Din was jogging behind her, every little sound was painful. The side of his head was covered in blood as the terrible gash near his temple cried crimson tears. His left arm had been sliced open from the steel's bite and bleeding as well. Tahirah did not stop until she reached the room where Aislin resided. "He's here! He's here! Please help him!" Aman-ud-Din gave a weak smile to Aislin and dipped his bearded chin. "Hello Aislin...Tahirah...I will be fine, do not fret my Desert Rose. Just a bump on the head and a scratch." Even though it was far worse than that, Aman-ud-Din did not want Tahirah to worry herself sick anymore than she already had. Chocolate eyes shifted slowly back to Aislin.

Aislin Creed- Once more Aislin had been within her study, adding little notes here and there on her personal findings within medicine to make sure she would not forget. Notes, they were beyond important when it came to remembering things that could save other's lives. Only when one of her assistance came into the room and spoke of a little girl calling out to her, did Aislin raise her head and place the quill back into the ink. Pushing the chair back, she rose with her men's attire donning her form. Long hair had once more been placed within a tight braid to stay out of her way and swayed back and forth behind her with each steady step she took. Moving out into the main hall (where many were already getting treated for various reasons) she came face to face with Tahirah and lowered her frame down to hold the girl close as she rambled on about what happened. "Calm Tahirah..Aman-ud-Din is stronger then ye know. He will be alright. Ye said Bess went out to get him? She will nay let anything happen." Already, Aislin was moving from the child to stand, while still holding her hand. Orders were put out to prepare a private room for the court advisor so that she would be ready when he came. The word came that he was here and Tahirah went bounding away from Aislin to go and meet Aman-ud-Din. Aislin followed after her in a slow walk, seeing no need to rush for the male had not said he looked as if he were dying. "Evening Aman-ud-Din. Come..ah have a room already prepared for ye. We will look at ye at once." That tone was calm as always, before she waited for him to reach her and took his other arm within her own to help him. Once they reached the room, Aislin told Tahirah she would have to wait just outside of it so Aislin could look over his wounds. "It is nay for a child's eyes little one. Ah shall call ye as soon as we are done. Ah promise. Mary...could ye please bring Tahirah a chair to sit on and wait. Thank ye. " One they were beyond the opening of the room, Aislin shut the door behind her and helped Aman-ud-Din towards the cot. Carefully she eased him down to sit. "Do nay lay down just yet. Let us have a look at ye head. Where else besides this and ye arm are ye hurt? Any other open wounds?" As she spoke, she moved towards the bowl of hot water. Steam rose from it as she dipped a cloth within it and then moved towards him to push back his raven locks and cleanse the area. Parting the hair with her skin, she found the small gash and sighed.

Aman-ud-Din- Aman-ud-Din was not dying, thanks be to God. He simply had a head and arm injury, one that he was confident that Aislin could patch up in no time at all. But poor Tahirah, she was still worried because she had never seen such happen before, or seen Aman-ud-Din any other way. So when she saw blood, her imagination went wild. Seeing Aislin, he was glad that a room was already prepared for him, and he nodded lightly. "You have my greastest thanks, Lady Aislin." He replied, before he took her arm. Oh he needed that arm more than he wanted to admit, he was a bit off balance as of late, since that flail assaulted his head. Reaching the room, Aislin explained that Tahirah would have to wait outside, and the little girl shook her head wildly, clinging to his long leg. Aman-ud-Din patted the top of her head. "Tahirah, wait outside, please. All will be fine, Aislin is going to look after my wounds." He added. Tahirah frowned at first, not wanting to leave, but she trusted Aman-ud-Din, and slowly released his leg. Stepping outside, she sighed softly and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Once the door was shut, he walked with Aislin to the cot and slowly sat down. "Just my arm and head. My shoulder aches, but nothing more than a bruise there." The Arab replied, sitting there as Aislin pushed back his locks of raven hair to reveal the gash to her eyes. He heard her sigh, and pressed his lips together. Silently, he wondered if it felt worse than how it felt, or if the pain matched its appearance.

Aislin Creed- Raven hair had been wiped of the blood though not completely through, just enough to see how bad it truly was or was not. Moving to gather the bowl, she headed back towards him and placed it to his side where she could reach it when she would need it. Ocean eyes took in the wound before her as she started to explain. "It is nay too bad on the outside, but ye will have a dent in yer skull, could be for the lifetime. We will nay known until a few months have passed. Let's get this cleaned and treated, then we will move on the the others. ye will nay be able to sleep for a day and night, so go somewhere or have someone stay with ye to keep ye awake. " Was replied before she went to work.It was enough that a few stitches would need to be given. It would not be as painful as one thought. The head had the tougher of skin stretched out upon it and the less of nerves under the flesh. Pricking sensations would be felt, but it would not compare to flesh on the arm being sown. With careful hands, she used the right to keep the hair parted as the left did the stitching. Finally, he was complete with only four placed in his skin, before she sliced the thread with her dagger and then placed the items down. "Ah need ye to removeye shirt so that ah may see ye shoulder and work on ye arm without all that fabric getting in the way." Aislin's face was very serious.

Aman-ud-Din- Even the slightest bit of pressure hurt, and he tried to bite back the urge to hiss out in pain. His eyes closed for a moment and nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. And she was only cleaning it. Silently, he listened. A dent in his skull? Well, it would not be the first scar to have, he thought to himself. Ouch, Even thinking too much hurt. But she said he could not go to sleep for a day and night, and as a response, his body did not like the verdict. Aman-ud-Din wanted to sleep so badly, but Aislin knew best, and forbid slumber until a day had come to pass. He would heed her words and trust them before anyone else's. "That shall be a hard task, to fight the body's insistence on sleep...but I trust you. I should have to forgo the pleasure of camomile tea then." He mused softly, a faint smile touching his lips before she went to work. His eyes closed as stitches were applied, and the gash was sown shut. Well that was not too bad, or at least not as painful as he supposed. Her skilled fingers worked nimbly, and even Aman-ud-Din was stunned by her skill. Truly, she had a gift, a gift of life and healing hands. Once she was done, his eyes opened and chocolate hued orbs lifted to the physician. He expected as much, and nodded briefly, before the black sash around his waist was undone, and set aside. With care, the wrap tunic was undone and shrugged off, revealing his rather toned upper body to her. No one in Skye had seen flesh other than face, hands, and feet. Aislin was the first, but only because of medical reasons. Tanned flesh was exposed, as well as the scars that he had gathered throughout the years of his life. A long line went up his back, following the curve of his spine from a saber raking up his back. Another faint scar curled around his side from one of the dangerous passages through the desert in caravans. Upon the right pectoral muscle was the appearance of an arrow wound that had long since healed, though still left a reminder of the past. A few other little scars littered his abdomen and side, but they were hard to see unless closely looked upon. Minor wounds from years of serving the sultan. Muscles moved beneath olive skin as he sat up straight again, and glance to the wound upon his arm, as well as the large bruise on his shoulder from ramming the thieves to the ground.

Aislin Creed- As Aman-ud-Din began to unwrap his body of it's clothes, Aislin was already moving the cloth from the bowl to twist it, leaving behind the faint bit of blood to stain the clear water and make it more visible. She was not sure how bad the arm was yet. Turning around, she approached Aman-ud-Din as if he were any other male. No surprise to see many scars on him, for she had known him to be a guard of sorts and he was older, so had many years to be in such a service. Going right to his arm, she cleansed it with the warm water, then opened a bottle of whisky to pour over it, knowing it would sting but clean his wound as nothing else could. Once she was done, silently she began to sow his wound closed, making sure it was not too tight and could breath. If any puss should need to escape, it was better then to block it into the body. When she was finished, any extra blood that had seeped from the wound as she sealed it was wiped. moving around him, she faced his back from around the other side of the cot, pressing two warm finger tips around the bruising area. Aman-ud-Din was a well made male, but that was all he was to Aislin. A male in need of healing. Nothing more, nothing less. As she prepared to warm the ointment in her hands buy placing it within her palm and rubbing them together, she spoke softly, only wanting Aman-ud-Din to hear." Ah shall be traveling soon. Eamonn is nay pleased of course, but it is for good reason. Ah also be with our second child." It was not uncommon for Aislin to be so random, for Aman-ud-Din and Aislin had spent a great deal of time together when Eamonn had been at war. A bond, that while not always put into affect, was never lost on the two.

Aman-ud-Din- Aislin was a healer, a woman who had seen more flesh and bodies than he ever had in his life, why would his be anything more than another number in that statistic? Besides, she was married, happily he could see, and thought of it nothing more than that. Aman-ud-Din was not the sort of man to lust for another's wife, that was expressly forbidden in the Bible and by the Lord. Dark eyes watched as she cleansed the wound, wiping the blood away before pouring whiskey upon it, making such sting as if he was being burned. Brows furrowed and he stifled a moan of discomfort as muscles around the area twitched and tensed. Idle conversation began, and an interesting one at that. Aislin would be traveling? He was not surprised to hear that Eamonn disliked it, for he could not say that Eamonn was entirely wrong in displeasure. If he had a wife, he would not want to see her venture off without him if it could be helped. "Travel? Ah, I expected the Marshal to not be so happy to hear of such news." The Arab replied, husky voice accented thickly with that Arabian dialect. But there was good news to follow as well! She was with child. To that, a smile appeared on his features. "Ah, Mabrook, Aislin. That is good news to hear...it is no wonder Eamonn is concerned about you, women traveling during pregnancy is not the wisest of choices, and much care must be taken to reduce stress upon both mother and child. What is it you seek in your travels? I trust something rich in knowledge?"

Aislin Creed- Aislin would have offered her hand should Aman-ud-Din have need of it, but her bed side manners were never good. Compassion was a hard thing to express at times when one saw the same illments over and over again. "No...ye know him as well as ah. Aye...it be good news. News that we both are thrilled to have. Ah know of the dangers..ah nay be rushing off without the help of Bess to make sure every step possible will be taken to keep me safe and make sure my trips are as well. I seek more knowledge in the ways of medicine. More then Skye can offer. The Duke and ah wish to start moving the ways of medicine forward. It be time for a good change and ah wish to have a part in that. Ah be good at what ah do. My skills should nay go to waste. " hands had finished rubbing in the ointment with care before she moved back around, taking in the other scars, though not asking yet about them as she washed her hands. "Ye may recloth yerself."

Aman-ud-Din- Aislin was a sensible woman, and her Husband was a sensible man...though stubborn and hot-tempered. Aislin would not so readily dash off without a compelling reason for her adventures, reason he assumed were a necessity in her life. Aman-ud-Din would let her be the judge of that, however. Her explanation of all the preparations having already been made was sign enough that the woman would not take silly chances. Trips, so there would be more than one. Silently, he wondered how Eamonn was taking in all this news. More than likely, not well. The man loved Aislin, undoubtedly, but he was a man, and could not be her shield every passing moment. He tried, and did well in his question, but Aislin had a life of her own, and they were not in countries that had women under strict laws, it seemed. Aislin was very skilled in the arts of medicine, and she would do well in learning to improve. However, her trips could take months, a year even, depending upon far away she decided to go. She gave him leave to dress again, after his wounds were wrapped, and bandaged, the one around his head a sharp contrast against ebony locks. Carefully, he rose from the cot, and picked up the tunic, sliding it on and fastening it shut with the sash back around his waist. "Then depending upon where you travel, your trip will take months...and I trust you know that the longer you are away, the less Eamonnwill get to witness and share in your pregnancy, since he was away for many months last time...and this time, it would be a repeat, though roles reversed in a sense." Aman-ud-Din reminded her, straightening out and smoothing over the fabric. "Have you found anyone to go with you? I know you are skilled, and it makes sense to want to do better. But, sometimes we all must make sacrifices. Do not let your ambitions get in the way of reality. Only God knows what is in store for you. Saving patients with a little more than a bump on the head." He teased, chuckling softly as a hand went to his wrapped head. Blinking again, he sighed. "Oh how the hammer pounds at my brain...and this time it is not from thinking too long."

Aislin Creed- All this had been thought of before hand. She knew that taking long trips while pregnant was not the best idea. She had planned to only travel to lands close. A day's sail and the like. "Aye...ah know what be the consequences of my wants and actions. i will nay be traveling great distances while ah be with child. That would be ridiculous. Aye...ah have. A maiden ah trust will be going with me along with her husband who is one of Eamonn's trusted men. Bess says she will find a crew that is honorable and will not take advantage. Meanwhile, I am simply waiting for those things, then ah will be on my way to the first land. "Moving towards the door, she opened it for him and waited for him to leave. She said nothing on his comment of God. While Aislin had been fascinated, it was not for her. "Take things easy. Do nay rush yerself. Ah trust ye are nay the type to do such anyway. If ye still feel bad in the head within five days..come back to me. Good evening Aman-ud-Din."[/size]

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