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It was dark in the kitchen. The fires cooled in the hearth, and Sen turned down the lamps. The kitchen, newly refurbished, was clean. He took a large cast iron pot of stew off of the old stove, and set it on the counter to cool. He opened a window and let the cool, wet spring night air rush into the room. He could smell the signs of spring on the air. Cherry blossoms, fresh cut flowers and ripe herbs. He liked spring the best. It was like the world went through a rebirth.

Silently, he walked outside and stood under the moonlight. It was full. He had waited until it was full. That was his way. He walked over to his two wheeled cart, parked next to the building. He hadn't used it much since he came to Haven. He spent most of his time in the Kitchen of Haven, or on the battlefield.

He reached in the back and felt for the loose board. He pressed down on the corner, and it came up without a squeak. He reached in and took out a small leather pouch. He stowed the pouch in his satchel, and replaced the board. His white face nearly glowing under the light of the moon, and his dark face nearly invisible.

The path down to the lake was clear of people. He could hear the guards laughing and talking, but everyone else was asleep during this how. The sky was clear and Sen could see the tapestry of stars winking down at him. Ancestors, so sayeth the Valkyn'vi, looking back from Mistralla, Sen didn't really believe that. If they were, they certainly weren't watching him anymore.

Once he got down to the lake, he took out the satchel, and the leather pouch. Inside was a black piece of rolled up leather. He unrolled it. It was a make up kit. It held the family tools used to do his makeup. Brushes, paste, cream, and small metal knife. Each clan of Valkyn'vi had their family recipe, that was guarded with their life. Passed down from Mother to daughter, Valkyn'vi could identify the clan by what makeup patterns they used.

From a side pouch sen took out a tiny silver box. He carefully opened it. In it was a lock of Shar's hair. He could still smell the jasmine from the soap she had used to wash her hair so many years ago. Next to it was the hair of the princess from back in the days past.

Sen took from the satchel his herb kit. Garlic, incense, ginger root. And a small piece of Ian's hair. Palmed during one of Sen's many attempts to bind Ian's wounds. He carefully threaded the hair into the braid of the other two sets of hair.

Then he took out his make up kit. He took out a stick of red. The half crescents on the edges of his face were red. The mark of failure. Silent penance that the Painted folk would recognize. Mistakes that resulted in the death of someone that mattered.

He carefully marked another crescent behind the one on the white side of his face. Since he failed the white part of his life, it was only fitting. The second moon was just behind the primary moon. Three failures , three deaths. Three lights blown out against the darkness.

Sen picked up his things, and went back to the inn, yet another failure to pay for.

It was late. Very late. Most of the folk of Haven were abed to prepare for the challenges of the next day, or happily drinking away their sorrows. She envied both. Sleep would not come, and drink was not really her way. So, she turned back to the leather bound book in which she had been writing with a slight sigh. She needed to make sure she kept a good account of everything she would need for her hospital, and there was a lot she needed.

When Sen entered the Inn once more, hardly more than a whisper of shadow, she immediately picked up on his emotions. She’d become so much more sensitive since becoming reborn in the Light, especially to those with whom she had daily interaction. The Valkin’vi cook kept mostly to himself, but as a fellow healer, she felt an innate connection to him. Her heart went out to him, for there was something so very resigned in the way he moved, a weight that was practically visible upon his shoulders. It pulled at her, his suffering, called her in a way she could not refuse. So it was for Orien; she was compelled to help those in pain… of any kind.

The elven woman crossed the large common room to stand in the kitchen doorway, regarding him with kind eyes. “There is a deep sorrow in you, Sen of the Valkin kin. Is there aught that I might do to ease your pain?” Her voice was soft, timid. Yet, there was such a light and desire to truly help in her too, and that outshined her natural meekness.

Sen watched the elven girl slip into the doorway of the kitchen. She was filled with trepidation, and spoke to him in quiet hushed tones. They carried over the stillness of the night.

"Thank you for the offer. But there is nothing. each of us must deal with their own pain. Everyone grieves differently. I hope you don't take Ians loss too hard your self. " Sen said, sitting on a long bench.

"I'm sure all of us feel like we we should have been there, we should have done more. Maybe a little pain will change the next time."

She winced at his mention of Ian. “Yes… the wound is yet raw. I…” She faltered. Should have been there for him… should have gone with Delayne as she asked, she did not say. “He was kind to me, dear as few others. He will be so very missed. But mine is the care of those who are left behind, to see to what hurts I can. Grief is as keen a sword as any of steel.”

She sat down at a stool near him. “I am Light… no troubles weigh long upon my shoulders. A blessing and a curse, sometimes. But others… others can become consumed by grief and darkness. I would bring them what Light and ease that I may. You… you need not carry that weight all alone.”

She almost reached out and patted his hand, but refrained. Not everyone took kindly to such things. Still, her desire to help and to heal was clear behind her gaze.

"I am certainly aware that I do not share the burden alone. I appreciate your kindness. Especially in times when the darkness creeps in a little more." Sen says, his face slowly turning to a smile. "We have fine company over here, and everyone is valiant. It makes every loss, that much more painful. I wonder who then exists to balance the scales."

“We do,” she said softly. “We who would heal, would be strength when others cannot be strong for themselves. It is given those who walk in Light to be such for those who have lost their way. Each of us in our own way. Together, I believe that we might all be strong, might make a brighter day than yesterday, keeping the love of those we have lost ever in our hearts. As there is great darkness, so too is there great Light.”

The elven healer gave the Valkin’vi a soft smile. “If you are burdened, or simply wish one who would share silence with you, I am ever your humble servant, Sen’Za’Rien. Sometimes we who heal others are forgotten… that we need healing from time to time as well.”