[Log] Two Things
Who: Katric, Padian
When: Day 14, Month 6, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Where: Exile Settlement, Western Islands
What: Katric meets Padian, with interesting results.
On a Western Island, Deep in the Forest
It's a pleasant island, made moreso by the work of many hands. Stone cliffs on the leeward side make a home for dragons, a large cavern at the base home to the rest in all but the worst rain season. Tropical forest covers most of the island, though there is a small plot of land near the cliffs for cultivated crops and beasts, and the exiles have even added a small dock for the small fishing boats made from the wood of the native trees.
The smoke of fires for cooking, heating water from the freshwater stream that bubbles through the center of the camp, and even the occasional resmithing of old metal traces a hazy line above the island.
The wet season is marked by heavy grey and black clouds that hang perpetually in the sky. Some days, the covering is so thick that even midday feels like evening. Occasional fat droplets of rain leak down: a promise of the downpour to come.
Contents:
Padian
Obvious Exits:
Coastline (C) Dragonweyr Cliffs (DC)
Padian
Standing around five feet tall, Padian is not the sort of bloke who draws too much attention to himself. On purpose. Wheat-field hair of burning gold rests in a messy halo about his head. The edges are all frayed and split ends are not that uncommon for the sixteen-turn old boy. He has a round face, dimplemarks appearing on his cheeks as smiles burst unending onto his features during random parts of the day. His skin may have once been exceptionally pale, but now, kissed by the sun, he carries a light tan. Like good baked bread. Not too burnt around the edges.
He wears torn breeches; the kind that hover above kneecaps toughened by many scrapes and bruises. A tunic, loosely worn over his chest, is belted by a length of rope. Feet coated in a pair of worn, yet sturdy sandals are a little big for even his gangly-looking legs. Truly, this boy is only just coming into himself.
Lunch for the exiles is a busy affair, people going every which way with plates and pots of food for serving. Katric, though, has already gotten his bowl of stew, however, and retreated a safe distance away from the crowd by himself. The former healer seats himself at the edge of the encampment's meal area, watching the others going here and there, but not participating in the bustle.
Selecting a more uncooked approach, the blonde curmudgeon known to some as 'Padi' sits against the base of a tree, savouring the shade and the quiet. The clink of pots and plates has always chimed harshly in his ears, and it's closer to the sea that he prefers. As Katric meanders a little closer to his area, the boy raises hand in greeting. "Hoy. Sick of th' hustle and bustle, too, eh?"
"It's not--/that/," Katric answers vaguely as he glances back again at the mess of people. He shakes his head and glances back over at the younger boy. "I don't mind that," he repeats after a moment. "It's just... them. You. No offense. It was busier than this back at the Weyr, so it's not that." His explanation is disjointed, not making much sense as he settles in to eat--but now, he's watching Padian as much as the rest of the crowd.
"We're tough kids to get used to, but it doesn't look like you have the choice not to." The boy says, crunching a tuber out the side of his mouth happily. He sits atop a little overhang, kicking his sandaled feet over the edge where the grasses lurch forward. "Course it's busier in a Weyr. Maw says this ain' nothin' compared to bein' in a Weyr, but at least we all know eachother." He reasons this to be good. "Chyer name, anyway?"
Katric hesitates. "Katric," he finally answers. "You? It's a lot better back there, really. Lots more people, but it's not... overwhelming. Like this. Everybody always poking and questioning at you." Probably because they don't get a lot of new people around these parts. The man shoots a quick look back at the crowd, then turns back to Padian; whatever his grumpy words, he doesn't seem to really mind it that much.
"From what maw tells me, we've set the precedent for banishings and the like. If it's not as bad or lesser than what we have done, it is punishable on the mainland. Don't know what you've done, mate, but if it got you here, well.. You're among friends." He picks up a canteen, sipping from it for a short moment. "Padian. Padili's my mum. She's the one riding Obridath. Go ahead and call me Padi. Everyone does. Unless I break something, and then they call me other things."
Katric pokes idly at his stew, nose wrinkling before he glances up again at Padian. He doesn't elaborate on his crimes, only nods once in agreement. "Guess so. You... There's an awful lot of you here. Kids, I mean. Your parents just dragged you along out /here/?" He glances around the clearing in apparent disdain.
"Why not?" He asks, turning pale green eyes toward the man with pure curiosity. "I was five when we came out. Maw needed me." He explains before turning his head toward the gathered group. Another crunch on the tuber. He talks with his mouth full. "Wha bou you? Got any kidzayerown?" Another look towards Katric.
"My parents wouldn't have dragged me along with them," Katric notes with a faint curl of his lip. But, he shrugs, shaking his head and looking mildly horrified by the latter question. This he hides by pretending he didn't understand it at all: "What? I'm sorry--I can't understand you," he notes unapologetically.
"I asked you, man, if you had any loin-spawn. Children. Little terrors that look like you running around anywhere." The boy clarifies with a nonchalance that breeds him as a rider's child. Clearly, this is no big deal.
Weyrbred he might be, Katris is still not quite used to that particular question, especially having it put to him by someone turns younger than him in such fashion. As such, he near-gawks at Padian. "No," he finally says primly. "No, I don't, thank you very much."
A shrug, then. "Ah, well. Leastways y'don' hafta miss 'em." He comments blithely. Once again the top of the canteen is bit and he tips the container up. Clear liquid dribbles a little down his chin until a tanned forearm rises to wipe at it. "So. 'Stead of thinkin' how you don' like this place, I challenge you to name two things you do."
Katric wrinkles his nose, still eyeing Padian. He's not really eating at this point, just watching the younger boy. "Wait. What. Two thing I like about it?" he asks dubiously. "Like... what? I don't know anything."
"Forget about knowing, tell me what you /see/. Look around you and tell me two things that you see that are pleasant to you." The boy says, his hands gesturing with each word. Well, almost each word. Enough to make the words he needs to stress seem more important. "You may as well find this place likeable. You're here, now."
Katric hesitates, glancing around the camp with a rather sulky air. "It's... warm?" he finally ventures, after several seconds of looking in silence. "Wasn't never like this at the Reaches, or even the Hall. And it's..." This is harder. "You have an ocean?" he finally guesses.
"That's a good start." The boy says, lower lip jutting out as if to mull the answers over. "Yea, those'll do." He slips down from the overhang and turns. "Tomorrow, I will ask you again. You need to find two more things to like about this place by dinner tomorrow. Right now, I gotta go help cleanin' plates. Take care, Katric." A hand is raised in farewell before, still munching on the tuber, Padian heads towards the building pile of dirty flatware.
"See you," Katric tells Padian in pardon, left sitting bewildered in his wake.