Second Chances
Location: Cassiel and Chiavelth's Weyr
Time: Late morning on Day 25, Month 2, Turn 3, immediately after this scene.
Players: Cassiel, J'lor, Chiavleth, Vellath
Scene: J'lor goes to Cassiel, to try and reason with her.
On the ledge, Chiavelth is curled close to the entrance, a sign, no doubt, of Cassiel's current desire to shut out the rest of the world. Within, the greenrider paces the tiny confines of her weyr, arms crossed tightly over her chest in obvious irritation.
Vellath has never been one for hints, subtle or otherwise. He lands, the mud on his sides barely dried by the brief flight from meeting point to Cassiel's weyr. The blue warbles fondly at the coiled green as his rider lands on the ledge, the soles of his bare feet making a *thwap!* sound as they hit the stone. He walks up to Chiavelth, but not past her. The green is offered a nod before J'lor calls, "Cassiel? May I come in?"
Chiavelth looks rather flatly at J'lor, though a glance at Vellath has her slinking away from the entrance to join the blue. Within, Cassiel shoots a dry sort of glare at the green before turning it on J'lor. "One Weyrleading pair and a single craftmaster, J'lor," she says, the dismay in her voice overwhelming. "We can't make a change with one Weyr and one Craft, no matter /who/ they are! They're going about this all wrong, J'lor, and the only thing that makes them less bumblers than we were is that they have resorted to violence yet!"
"Cassiel," J'lor sighs softly as he steps inside. "An entire weyr and the support of the Master who crafts news and information for the whole of Pern is no small thing. What did you expect them to have? Half the world already behind them? Based on what? Rumors?" He leans lightly against the wall, watching the greenrider pace.
"At least a quarter!" Cassiel exclaims, gesturing sharply with one hand. "At least enough to be a real /minority/ rather than renegades. There's a difference, J'lor, and you know it. It doesn't have to be half of everyone, or more than half, but it should be enough that the ones who're doing it don't just end up here with us. And Telgari! Is she insane?"
The bluerider only crosses his arms over his chest and listens. He waits a few beats after Cassiel quiets before he begins to speak. "High Reaches and Telgar would be two of the six," he offers gently. "A minority. It makes a sort of sense, doesn't it? That if it's Telgar," and oh but that name is hard to say, "it's a weyr dealing with its own internal concerns. It makes the complaint against S'lien stronger, if it's his own people. I do not...I will not believe it was the entire weyr, Cass. It was him. And if Telgar doesn't want him, should they not be allowed to help?"
"You don't understand, J'lor," Cassiel shakes her head, trembling now as she paces. "/He/ didn't do any of it. /He/ ordered the guards not to. I was there, I heard it. I can't say he ordered the guards to- to- I can't, because to my knowledge he expressly told them /not/ to. You can't get him without those guards, J'lor. And even then...I don't know if he ever told them explicitly, either. The best you can hope is that he was negligent in hiring guards who couldn't follow orders. Don't you see?"
"He knew you were there, and it was no guard that ordered a queen to hold Chiavelth. He chose the guards that would see to you. He arranged it all, and his hands are not so clean as he might wish. If it had not been with his permission, how is it that you came to be in the...Cassiel, no one could have mistaken you for healthy. And no guard would so outlandishly overrule his superior if he was worth anything much. Derek could tell you so. You're shaking like a leaf. Come here." J'lor holds one hand out, palm up, as he watches her.
"Because I'm frightened, J'lor!" Cassiel snaps, turning to face him. "Shardit, J'lor, I held it together while they- during- But I can't just go back there without some faith that it's going to work!" She hangs back from that offered hand, arms still wrapped tightly around herself. "And I don't know how you can contribute to Roa risking herself like this," she adds more quietly, though even she can't meet his eye as she delivers that low blow.
"I'll be there," the bluerider insists softly. "You'll have the protection of a gold dragon and a bronze, if you'd allow him. You have the ear of the Masterharper of Pern. It you permit an escort then you arrive and depart, sanctioned by the weyrs. It's going to work." The hand remains, waiting, untaken. "I contribute because she chose to take this on. Because, one way or another, she brought it to me. And I think, had I refused," a hint of a smile touches J'lor's mouth, "she would have forged ahead anyhow without help."
Cassiel stills as she turns, eyes going wider still. "You expect me to go without Chiavelth," she suddenly realizes, and the drop of her stomach to her toes is practically audible. "You want me to leave the one person I can trust /completely/ to protect me behind to meet strangers who may or may not have plans to do worse to me."
"What?" J'lor's brows draw down sharply. "No! Of course you'd...why would you think...you and Chiavelth. Myself and Vellath. Will go. If you decide to go."
Cassiel lets out a long breath, the trembling finally ceasing with that relief, shoulders drooping. "Good," she says quietly, dropping down to sit on her pallet and dropping her head into her hands. "You scared the shells out of me for a minute there." She's quiet for a long moment then, just slowly shaking her head. "Ten years ago, J'lor, I would have said I would do this sort of thing without thinking twice about it. I wouldn't have understood anyone who couldn't bring themselves to do it."
Finally, the hand drops to his side, and J'lor moves to seat himself on the floor, in front of Cassiel and her palette. "I suspect that ten months ago, you would have done it," he says softly. "We were exiled. We played our game and we lost. We have been shown no kindness from the mainland, since. But if we want to survive, we're going to have to try again. They hurt us. And we must try anyway."
"I just- I just don't have the idealism to waste on lost causes, J'lor," Cassiel says wearily. "I can't keep losing. I can't keep trying things the same way, expecting to get different results." Her head remains in her hands, shoulders hunched around herself. "I don't want to do it now if it will ruin a better chance later."
"We are running out of time and out of chances," J'lor murmurs, his fingers very lightly touching Cassiel's knee. "We have Odern, possibly. We have this. And this is less about...Cassiel, if we can stop him, we must. He cannot be allowed to get away with it."
"If anything happens to me, J'lor, I'm coming to this island and I'm never leaving it again," Cassiel says quietly, turning her head to the side to look up at him, dead serious. "This is it. This is the last chance." She snorts a soft laugh as soon as she says it, looking away again with a shake of her head. "Listen to me. As though I won't buck up and do what I have to anyhow once I get there."
"Nothing is going to happen to you," J'lor murmurs vehemently. "All right? I swear it." Because, of course, the bluerider has never been known to make a promise he cannot reasonably uphold. He sighs softly. "Issa returns in three days. What is it you will allow, and what will you not? They want seven. How many will you permit?"
Cassiel rubs a hand at the back of her neck, still looking away. "All of them," she says wearily, though the statement brings another tremor, fingers tensing through it. "Let them all come. If they're going to betray me, they'll find a way to do it with three as much as seven. At least I can go and not let them see me afraid."
"Good girl," J'lor says, soft but impassioned, the hand on her knee offering a small squeeze. "Thank you, Cassiel. I know this...well...thank you."
Cassiel looks back towards him, gaze sharp with resolve. "If that girl gets herself exiled because of this, you realize Vellath is never going to catch Chiavelth again, right?" she asks, a certain dry warning in her tone.
"That...Roa?" J'lor laughs. "It would be the way of it, wouldn't it? Roa, a second queen and this one already heavy with eggs. Precisely what we need just now." He is smirking, but the expression dims a little bit. "Are you going to tell Derek?"
"What, that I'm planning on doing some reconnaissance on the mainland?" Cassiel asks, arching a brow. "Maybe, if I think he'll buy that explanation. I doubt he's terribly interested in handing S'lien over to the forces of law and order, though. My marks would be on him wanting to let it be until he can come back and deliver some personal justice."
The wrinkling of the bluerider's nose is all the opinion he expresses on such justice. "Good. I wouldn't put it past him to find some way to keep us here, if he didn't want us to go."
"I'd suggest, though," Cassiel notes, sitting up a little straighter, "That we find someone to work as a front. Someone I /can/ report to Derek as trying to get back to the mainland, and then we can slip off while he's busy with that."
"He's not going to be happy with that person. Is there someone willing to...accept that?" J'lor's jaw tightens. "I don't like the idea very much. Couldn't we just come up with an excuse for -us- to be gone, rather than for someone else to be in trouble?"
"Not really, J'lor," Cassiel says dryly, then quirks a brow. "Any of the boys who impressed prone to secret gatherings that you've noticed?" she asks. "Doesn't have to be them trying to leave, but they ought to be caught and told a thing or two if they are anyhow."
"A couple of the ones from the mainland like to keep together, and I suppose A'der keeps to himself quite a bit. Cass!" Shaking his head and frowning, the greenrider is given J'lor's accusatory glare. "I'm not setting up a weyrling to get in trouble over our mischief."
"Oh, you're a wherry-feather," Cassiel dismisses with a roll of her eyes. "They'll be fine. What's the worst that's going to happen? Even Derek isn't likely to beat weyrlings, and even then he probably wouldn't hurt them. If I can risk myself and as much as I'm risking to go to the mainland, surely you can risk a stern talking-to for a few weyrlings to keep it secret."
J'lor shakes his head slowly, but his head lowers, shoulders slumping a little. "Just make sure it's no more than that," he says quietly. "I feel wretched enough about the idea as it is."
"I'll do what I can. But you need to toughen up," Cassiel says wearily, reaching over to try to ruffle at his hair. "We have things to do, you know."
"I'll toughen," J'lor concedes as his hair is ruffled and strands are rubbed free of its queue. But then he peers up, eyes bright and playful, "if you'll soften. Just a little. Just when no one is looking." He winks.
"Not a lot of soft left in me," Cassiel points out with a faint, tired smile. "But I'll think about it. Maybe soon, when things change. I am what I need to be, J'lor. We all have to survive somehow."
"Don't lose yourself, Cass," J'lor murmurs softly, "in all of that surviving."
Cassiel smiles faintly, shrugging one shoulder. "Hey, you know what we always said, right? Doesn't matter if you lose yourself, so long as the cause goes forward. Always seemed a little odd for a group of people who thought each person could offer their own, important piece to the whole, don't you think?"
"Well, I think perhaps we said a lot of things we shouldn't have, then." There is another squeeze, the bluerider's fingers curling around Cassiel's knee. "We're smarter now."
"We're certainly older," Cassiel says, smile finally tugging at one corner of her lips as she looks over with a playful arch of her brow. "Especially you," she adds, smile spreading.
J'lor huffs, puffing out his chest and throwing back his shoulders. "I am the very picture of youth and vitality, I'll have you know." This is negated, immediately, as he shifts his weight to sit down beside Cassiel on the palette. Several different joints pop crankily in tandem.
Cassiel chuckles at the symphony of pops. "Mmmhmmm," she hums with some amusement, shaking her head. "You know, if we decide to give this revolution thing another try, you might need to pick out someone a little younger and prettier to be your face on things. Inspires people more, y'know," she teases, winking.
"Mmm. Perhaps so. Shouldn't wish to blind them with my wretched and aged visage." He lifts one hand to idly tuck a wayward curl behind Cassiel's ear. "How about yours?" he teases. "You act well enough. You can pretend to like people."
"And with such a good sob story to go with it," Cassiel drawls with a wry smile, shaking her head slightly. "We'll see how things go. At least I've got something of an education, which is more than can be said for most of our number," she sighs regretfully.
"They'll learn. We are, all of us, capable of learning," J'lor says with quiet conviction. "No games, this time. No tricks. Just us and our words. We'll see where they take us."
"This had better work, J'lor," Cassiel murmurs on a sigh, leaning a shoulder against the stone wall and dropping her temple to follow suit. "At least it's a chance to see Roa." She looks over then, a sidelong glance. "You think you'll be able to handle yourself?"
"Cass...if she looks at me, it will be an improvement from our last encounter," J'lor murmurs with a soft sigh. "We're not going for that. Or for her. I know it." The smile is weak and partially artificial now. "I'll be good."
Cassiel nods, though a faint smile curves. "J'lor, I don't think anyone really believes you're going to be good in the sense of you'll behave yourself," she points out with a soft chuckle. "Just that you'll be an unbearably good person, no matter the cost or the intelligence of it. But that's part of your charm."
The bluerider studies his knees and clears his throat softly. Did his tan just get darker on his cheeks and ears? "Careful, Cassiel. I might start to think you actually like me."
"When in reality, I can't stand you. I just kidnap boys and return then to the mainland, deal regularly with Derek, and do all sorts of foolish things because I find this island terribly boring," Cassiel says with dry amusement, arching a brow. "I don't /like/ liking you all the time, but I think it might be a bit foolish to pretend I didn't like you at all."
"You are many things, Cassiel," J'lor says quietly, his eyes lifting to study her face as a soft smile touches his mouth, "but I should never call you foolish."
"Not anymore, at least," Cassiel smiles wanly, shrugging one shoulder. "I think the whole trial and exile bit knocked the foolishness out of me." She twists, sitting cross-legged on the pallet, back against the wall. "How'd things go after I left?" she asks then, letting out a long breath.
"Did it? I wonder why it didn't do the same for me," the bluerider muses. He copies Cassiel's sitting position cross-legged, back against the wall, beside Cassiel. "It went as you might have expected. I said I would speak with you. Issa said she would return in three days to hear what we'd decided. We parted ways."
"I think you were used to having people try to knock the foolishness out of you already," Cassiel drawls, smile slipping crooked before it eases away at the description of events, nodding once. "Built up a resistance. Why do you trust her, J'lor?" she asks, quietly.
"Mmm...not with their boots, though." One hand moves to rub idly at his ribs as he ponders the memory. "That was a new experience. Who? Issa?"
"Her, yes. And Diya," Cassiel adds, lip curling in a sneer at the last name, as it always does.
"Because I think we all deserve a chance to change our minds or change our ways or try and repair past errors," J'lor begins. "Because if we wish to be heard and be forgiven, we can do no less for others. Because she came and she stayed and she remains here still. Because I cannot comprehend why the mainland would send her or what they could gain from doing so. I trust Issa for mostly the same reasons."
Cassiel shakes her head, looking up towards the ceiling. "You have far more faith in people than I do, J'lor," she murmurs wearily. "It continually amazes me that you've managed to keep that outlook after everything that's gone wrong."
"It seems to amaze most people," J'lor concedes with a chuckle. "My sins are no less than theirs, and yet I believe I am more than what those actions would suggest of me. It must be true for others, don't you suppose?" He tilts his head to peer over at Cassiel.
"No, I believe that you are one of a kind, J'lor," Cassiel chuckles, looking over with weary amusement. "Or, perhaps I just /hope/ you're one of a kind," she winks.
"Roa, I am told, at least has her mother's common sense. So I expect we're safe enough." The hand that settled on his ribs lifts and moves as if his knuckles might touch Cassiel's cheek. But fingers are drawn back before the action is completed and J'lor looks down and away before offering a sheepish smile. "I suppose I'd better go," he murmurs. But he doesn't yet move.
Cassiel reaches to try to catch that hand, pressing a brief kiss to the knuckles should she succeed. "Yeah, probably," she agrees with a faint smile. "Weyrlings to take care of and all that." She lets out a slow breath, leaning back again. "You can tell her when she comes back that I'll go. Just don't let her change the terms on you again."
"I'll tell her so," J'lor agrees gently. His fingers linger and then complete the motion they wanted before. His palm cups her cheek, the pad of his thumb resting just shy of the corner of her mouth. "No more changes."
Cassiel tips her cheek into that touch, her hand resting lightly over his. "No more changes," she repeats, then twists a faint smile. "Not even if she gets emotional. Or has reasons you think you understand. Just try putting your foot down."
"It's hard," J'lor complains as his chin ducks down and his eyes peer up and over at the greenrider. "I'm afraid I'll squash something."
"As you've been so bravely telling me for the last few months, some things /need/ to be squashed," Cassiel points out with a faint smirk. "So just keep that in mind."
"Using my own words back at me? Cruel, Cassiel. Simply cruel." His hand falls away and J'lor straightens. Sighs. "I'll be good," he offers once again with only the faintest of smirks.
"I'm good with words, after all. Besides, someone told me it was just going to be us and our words this time," Cassiel replies cheekily, straightening a bit as he does and tipping her chin out towards the ledge where Chiavelth flirts with Vellath. "She's going up soon," she notes, simply.
"We'll be here, when she does." The bluerider's own gaze lifts to study the way Vellath whuffles and puffs for his green of choice. "I'm afraid I can't promise eloquence, then." The half-smile hitches up a corner of his mouth and makes him look, just for that moment, a tad cocky.
Cassiel picks up her sad little pillow, tossing it at him with a smirk of her own. "Bring your own damn pillow if you think you're sticking around," she chuckles, the tacit acceptance of a presence beyond the flight itself unmarked by her.
All that throwing and catching firestone must be good for something. Clearly, what it's good for is catching sad little pillows. This one is snatched out of the air with lazy ease. "I'll try and remember. I can always sleep on the floor." His expression becomes woeful. "The cold, cold floor."
"We live on a tropical island, J'lor," Cassiel drawls with lazy amusement. "We dream of something a little cool. Besides, there's always Vellath. If you can peel him off Chiavelth's side," she winks, holding out her hands for the return of her pillow.
The pillow is not returned right away. It is studied, turned in his fingers, idly examined. "Vellath rolls in his sleep," is J'lor's only comment on that idea. "I really had better go," he sighs. He'll lean forward first, though, to steal a quick kiss as he presses her pillow back into her hands.
"How do you know I don't?" Cassiel replies with a brief laugh and a wry smile, meeting the kiss without protest. "Take care, J'lor," she says afterwards, nudging at whatever part of him she can reach with the pillow. "Don't travel too far."
"You," J'lor counters, "shall not squash me if you roll atop me in the night. In fact, I rather like the idea of..." but he has been pushed and obediently, he stands. "We won't travel too far." And when he heads out to climb aboard the blue who would much rather stay on this ledge with his green companion, it is only to glide to their own weyr, and then to the weyrling clearing.
Time: Late morning on Day 25, Month 2, Turn 3, immediately after this scene.
Players: Cassiel, J'lor, Chiavleth, Vellath
Scene: J'lor goes to Cassiel, to try and reason with her.
On the ledge, Chiavelth is curled close to the entrance, a sign, no doubt, of Cassiel's current desire to shut out the rest of the world. Within, the greenrider paces the tiny confines of her weyr, arms crossed tightly over her chest in obvious irritation.
Vellath has never been one for hints, subtle or otherwise. He lands, the mud on his sides barely dried by the brief flight from meeting point to Cassiel's weyr. The blue warbles fondly at the coiled green as his rider lands on the ledge, the soles of his bare feet making a *thwap!* sound as they hit the stone. He walks up to Chiavelth, but not past her. The green is offered a nod before J'lor calls, "Cassiel? May I come in?"
Chiavelth looks rather flatly at J'lor, though a glance at Vellath has her slinking away from the entrance to join the blue. Within, Cassiel shoots a dry sort of glare at the green before turning it on J'lor. "One Weyrleading pair and a single craftmaster, J'lor," she says, the dismay in her voice overwhelming. "We can't make a change with one Weyr and one Craft, no matter /who/ they are! They're going about this all wrong, J'lor, and the only thing that makes them less bumblers than we were is that they have resorted to violence yet!"
"Cassiel," J'lor sighs softly as he steps inside. "An entire weyr and the support of the Master who crafts news and information for the whole of Pern is no small thing. What did you expect them to have? Half the world already behind them? Based on what? Rumors?" He leans lightly against the wall, watching the greenrider pace.
"At least a quarter!" Cassiel exclaims, gesturing sharply with one hand. "At least enough to be a real /minority/ rather than renegades. There's a difference, J'lor, and you know it. It doesn't have to be half of everyone, or more than half, but it should be enough that the ones who're doing it don't just end up here with us. And Telgari! Is she insane?"
The bluerider only crosses his arms over his chest and listens. He waits a few beats after Cassiel quiets before he begins to speak. "High Reaches and Telgar would be two of the six," he offers gently. "A minority. It makes a sort of sense, doesn't it? That if it's Telgar," and oh but that name is hard to say, "it's a weyr dealing with its own internal concerns. It makes the complaint against S'lien stronger, if it's his own people. I do not...I will not believe it was the entire weyr, Cass. It was him. And if Telgar doesn't want him, should they not be allowed to help?"
"You don't understand, J'lor," Cassiel shakes her head, trembling now as she paces. "/He/ didn't do any of it. /He/ ordered the guards not to. I was there, I heard it. I can't say he ordered the guards to- to- I can't, because to my knowledge he expressly told them /not/ to. You can't get him without those guards, J'lor. And even then...I don't know if he ever told them explicitly, either. The best you can hope is that he was negligent in hiring guards who couldn't follow orders. Don't you see?"
"He knew you were there, and it was no guard that ordered a queen to hold Chiavelth. He chose the guards that would see to you. He arranged it all, and his hands are not so clean as he might wish. If it had not been with his permission, how is it that you came to be in the...Cassiel, no one could have mistaken you for healthy. And no guard would so outlandishly overrule his superior if he was worth anything much. Derek could tell you so. You're shaking like a leaf. Come here." J'lor holds one hand out, palm up, as he watches her.
"Because I'm frightened, J'lor!" Cassiel snaps, turning to face him. "Shardit, J'lor, I held it together while they- during- But I can't just go back there without some faith that it's going to work!" She hangs back from that offered hand, arms still wrapped tightly around herself. "And I don't know how you can contribute to Roa risking herself like this," she adds more quietly, though even she can't meet his eye as she delivers that low blow.
"I'll be there," the bluerider insists softly. "You'll have the protection of a gold dragon and a bronze, if you'd allow him. You have the ear of the Masterharper of Pern. It you permit an escort then you arrive and depart, sanctioned by the weyrs. It's going to work." The hand remains, waiting, untaken. "I contribute because she chose to take this on. Because, one way or another, she brought it to me. And I think, had I refused," a hint of a smile touches J'lor's mouth, "she would have forged ahead anyhow without help."
Cassiel stills as she turns, eyes going wider still. "You expect me to go without Chiavelth," she suddenly realizes, and the drop of her stomach to her toes is practically audible. "You want me to leave the one person I can trust /completely/ to protect me behind to meet strangers who may or may not have plans to do worse to me."
"What?" J'lor's brows draw down sharply. "No! Of course you'd...why would you think...you and Chiavelth. Myself and Vellath. Will go. If you decide to go."
Cassiel lets out a long breath, the trembling finally ceasing with that relief, shoulders drooping. "Good," she says quietly, dropping down to sit on her pallet and dropping her head into her hands. "You scared the shells out of me for a minute there." She's quiet for a long moment then, just slowly shaking her head. "Ten years ago, J'lor, I would have said I would do this sort of thing without thinking twice about it. I wouldn't have understood anyone who couldn't bring themselves to do it."
Finally, the hand drops to his side, and J'lor moves to seat himself on the floor, in front of Cassiel and her palette. "I suspect that ten months ago, you would have done it," he says softly. "We were exiled. We played our game and we lost. We have been shown no kindness from the mainland, since. But if we want to survive, we're going to have to try again. They hurt us. And we must try anyway."
"I just- I just don't have the idealism to waste on lost causes, J'lor," Cassiel says wearily. "I can't keep losing. I can't keep trying things the same way, expecting to get different results." Her head remains in her hands, shoulders hunched around herself. "I don't want to do it now if it will ruin a better chance later."
"We are running out of time and out of chances," J'lor murmurs, his fingers very lightly touching Cassiel's knee. "We have Odern, possibly. We have this. And this is less about...Cassiel, if we can stop him, we must. He cannot be allowed to get away with it."
"If anything happens to me, J'lor, I'm coming to this island and I'm never leaving it again," Cassiel says quietly, turning her head to the side to look up at him, dead serious. "This is it. This is the last chance." She snorts a soft laugh as soon as she says it, looking away again with a shake of her head. "Listen to me. As though I won't buck up and do what I have to anyhow once I get there."
"Nothing is going to happen to you," J'lor murmurs vehemently. "All right? I swear it." Because, of course, the bluerider has never been known to make a promise he cannot reasonably uphold. He sighs softly. "Issa returns in three days. What is it you will allow, and what will you not? They want seven. How many will you permit?"
Cassiel rubs a hand at the back of her neck, still looking away. "All of them," she says wearily, though the statement brings another tremor, fingers tensing through it. "Let them all come. If they're going to betray me, they'll find a way to do it with three as much as seven. At least I can go and not let them see me afraid."
"Good girl," J'lor says, soft but impassioned, the hand on her knee offering a small squeeze. "Thank you, Cassiel. I know this...well...thank you."
Cassiel looks back towards him, gaze sharp with resolve. "If that girl gets herself exiled because of this, you realize Vellath is never going to catch Chiavelth again, right?" she asks, a certain dry warning in her tone.
"That...Roa?" J'lor laughs. "It would be the way of it, wouldn't it? Roa, a second queen and this one already heavy with eggs. Precisely what we need just now." He is smirking, but the expression dims a little bit. "Are you going to tell Derek?"
"What, that I'm planning on doing some reconnaissance on the mainland?" Cassiel asks, arching a brow. "Maybe, if I think he'll buy that explanation. I doubt he's terribly interested in handing S'lien over to the forces of law and order, though. My marks would be on him wanting to let it be until he can come back and deliver some personal justice."
The wrinkling of the bluerider's nose is all the opinion he expresses on such justice. "Good. I wouldn't put it past him to find some way to keep us here, if he didn't want us to go."
"I'd suggest, though," Cassiel notes, sitting up a little straighter, "That we find someone to work as a front. Someone I /can/ report to Derek as trying to get back to the mainland, and then we can slip off while he's busy with that."
"He's not going to be happy with that person. Is there someone willing to...accept that?" J'lor's jaw tightens. "I don't like the idea very much. Couldn't we just come up with an excuse for -us- to be gone, rather than for someone else to be in trouble?"
"Not really, J'lor," Cassiel says dryly, then quirks a brow. "Any of the boys who impressed prone to secret gatherings that you've noticed?" she asks. "Doesn't have to be them trying to leave, but they ought to be caught and told a thing or two if they are anyhow."
"A couple of the ones from the mainland like to keep together, and I suppose A'der keeps to himself quite a bit. Cass!" Shaking his head and frowning, the greenrider is given J'lor's accusatory glare. "I'm not setting up a weyrling to get in trouble over our mischief."
"Oh, you're a wherry-feather," Cassiel dismisses with a roll of her eyes. "They'll be fine. What's the worst that's going to happen? Even Derek isn't likely to beat weyrlings, and even then he probably wouldn't hurt them. If I can risk myself and as much as I'm risking to go to the mainland, surely you can risk a stern talking-to for a few weyrlings to keep it secret."
J'lor shakes his head slowly, but his head lowers, shoulders slumping a little. "Just make sure it's no more than that," he says quietly. "I feel wretched enough about the idea as it is."
"I'll do what I can. But you need to toughen up," Cassiel says wearily, reaching over to try to ruffle at his hair. "We have things to do, you know."
"I'll toughen," J'lor concedes as his hair is ruffled and strands are rubbed free of its queue. But then he peers up, eyes bright and playful, "if you'll soften. Just a little. Just when no one is looking." He winks.
"Not a lot of soft left in me," Cassiel points out with a faint, tired smile. "But I'll think about it. Maybe soon, when things change. I am what I need to be, J'lor. We all have to survive somehow."
"Don't lose yourself, Cass," J'lor murmurs softly, "in all of that surviving."
Cassiel smiles faintly, shrugging one shoulder. "Hey, you know what we always said, right? Doesn't matter if you lose yourself, so long as the cause goes forward. Always seemed a little odd for a group of people who thought each person could offer their own, important piece to the whole, don't you think?"
"Well, I think perhaps we said a lot of things we shouldn't have, then." There is another squeeze, the bluerider's fingers curling around Cassiel's knee. "We're smarter now."
"We're certainly older," Cassiel says, smile finally tugging at one corner of her lips as she looks over with a playful arch of her brow. "Especially you," she adds, smile spreading.
J'lor huffs, puffing out his chest and throwing back his shoulders. "I am the very picture of youth and vitality, I'll have you know." This is negated, immediately, as he shifts his weight to sit down beside Cassiel on the palette. Several different joints pop crankily in tandem.
Cassiel chuckles at the symphony of pops. "Mmmhmmm," she hums with some amusement, shaking her head. "You know, if we decide to give this revolution thing another try, you might need to pick out someone a little younger and prettier to be your face on things. Inspires people more, y'know," she teases, winking.
"Mmm. Perhaps so. Shouldn't wish to blind them with my wretched and aged visage." He lifts one hand to idly tuck a wayward curl behind Cassiel's ear. "How about yours?" he teases. "You act well enough. You can pretend to like people."
"And with such a good sob story to go with it," Cassiel drawls with a wry smile, shaking her head slightly. "We'll see how things go. At least I've got something of an education, which is more than can be said for most of our number," she sighs regretfully.
"They'll learn. We are, all of us, capable of learning," J'lor says with quiet conviction. "No games, this time. No tricks. Just us and our words. We'll see where they take us."
"This had better work, J'lor," Cassiel murmurs on a sigh, leaning a shoulder against the stone wall and dropping her temple to follow suit. "At least it's a chance to see Roa." She looks over then, a sidelong glance. "You think you'll be able to handle yourself?"
"Cass...if she looks at me, it will be an improvement from our last encounter," J'lor murmurs with a soft sigh. "We're not going for that. Or for her. I know it." The smile is weak and partially artificial now. "I'll be good."
Cassiel nods, though a faint smile curves. "J'lor, I don't think anyone really believes you're going to be good in the sense of you'll behave yourself," she points out with a soft chuckle. "Just that you'll be an unbearably good person, no matter the cost or the intelligence of it. But that's part of your charm."
The bluerider studies his knees and clears his throat softly. Did his tan just get darker on his cheeks and ears? "Careful, Cassiel. I might start to think you actually like me."
"When in reality, I can't stand you. I just kidnap boys and return then to the mainland, deal regularly with Derek, and do all sorts of foolish things because I find this island terribly boring," Cassiel says with dry amusement, arching a brow. "I don't /like/ liking you all the time, but I think it might be a bit foolish to pretend I didn't like you at all."
"You are many things, Cassiel," J'lor says quietly, his eyes lifting to study her face as a soft smile touches his mouth, "but I should never call you foolish."
"Not anymore, at least," Cassiel smiles wanly, shrugging one shoulder. "I think the whole trial and exile bit knocked the foolishness out of me." She twists, sitting cross-legged on the pallet, back against the wall. "How'd things go after I left?" she asks then, letting out a long breath.
"Did it? I wonder why it didn't do the same for me," the bluerider muses. He copies Cassiel's sitting position cross-legged, back against the wall, beside Cassiel. "It went as you might have expected. I said I would speak with you. Issa said she would return in three days to hear what we'd decided. We parted ways."
"I think you were used to having people try to knock the foolishness out of you already," Cassiel drawls, smile slipping crooked before it eases away at the description of events, nodding once. "Built up a resistance. Why do you trust her, J'lor?" she asks, quietly.
"Mmm...not with their boots, though." One hand moves to rub idly at his ribs as he ponders the memory. "That was a new experience. Who? Issa?"
"Her, yes. And Diya," Cassiel adds, lip curling in a sneer at the last name, as it always does.
"Because I think we all deserve a chance to change our minds or change our ways or try and repair past errors," J'lor begins. "Because if we wish to be heard and be forgiven, we can do no less for others. Because she came and she stayed and she remains here still. Because I cannot comprehend why the mainland would send her or what they could gain from doing so. I trust Issa for mostly the same reasons."
Cassiel shakes her head, looking up towards the ceiling. "You have far more faith in people than I do, J'lor," she murmurs wearily. "It continually amazes me that you've managed to keep that outlook after everything that's gone wrong."
"It seems to amaze most people," J'lor concedes with a chuckle. "My sins are no less than theirs, and yet I believe I am more than what those actions would suggest of me. It must be true for others, don't you suppose?" He tilts his head to peer over at Cassiel.
"No, I believe that you are one of a kind, J'lor," Cassiel chuckles, looking over with weary amusement. "Or, perhaps I just /hope/ you're one of a kind," she winks.
"Roa, I am told, at least has her mother's common sense. So I expect we're safe enough." The hand that settled on his ribs lifts and moves as if his knuckles might touch Cassiel's cheek. But fingers are drawn back before the action is completed and J'lor looks down and away before offering a sheepish smile. "I suppose I'd better go," he murmurs. But he doesn't yet move.
Cassiel reaches to try to catch that hand, pressing a brief kiss to the knuckles should she succeed. "Yeah, probably," she agrees with a faint smile. "Weyrlings to take care of and all that." She lets out a slow breath, leaning back again. "You can tell her when she comes back that I'll go. Just don't let her change the terms on you again."
"I'll tell her so," J'lor agrees gently. His fingers linger and then complete the motion they wanted before. His palm cups her cheek, the pad of his thumb resting just shy of the corner of her mouth. "No more changes."
Cassiel tips her cheek into that touch, her hand resting lightly over his. "No more changes," she repeats, then twists a faint smile. "Not even if she gets emotional. Or has reasons you think you understand. Just try putting your foot down."
"It's hard," J'lor complains as his chin ducks down and his eyes peer up and over at the greenrider. "I'm afraid I'll squash something."
"As you've been so bravely telling me for the last few months, some things /need/ to be squashed," Cassiel points out with a faint smirk. "So just keep that in mind."
"Using my own words back at me? Cruel, Cassiel. Simply cruel." His hand falls away and J'lor straightens. Sighs. "I'll be good," he offers once again with only the faintest of smirks.
"I'm good with words, after all. Besides, someone told me it was just going to be us and our words this time," Cassiel replies cheekily, straightening a bit as he does and tipping her chin out towards the ledge where Chiavelth flirts with Vellath. "She's going up soon," she notes, simply.
"We'll be here, when she does." The bluerider's own gaze lifts to study the way Vellath whuffles and puffs for his green of choice. "I'm afraid I can't promise eloquence, then." The half-smile hitches up a corner of his mouth and makes him look, just for that moment, a tad cocky.
Cassiel picks up her sad little pillow, tossing it at him with a smirk of her own. "Bring your own damn pillow if you think you're sticking around," she chuckles, the tacit acceptance of a presence beyond the flight itself unmarked by her.
All that throwing and catching firestone must be good for something. Clearly, what it's good for is catching sad little pillows. This one is snatched out of the air with lazy ease. "I'll try and remember. I can always sleep on the floor." His expression becomes woeful. "The cold, cold floor."
"We live on a tropical island, J'lor," Cassiel drawls with lazy amusement. "We dream of something a little cool. Besides, there's always Vellath. If you can peel him off Chiavelth's side," she winks, holding out her hands for the return of her pillow.
The pillow is not returned right away. It is studied, turned in his fingers, idly examined. "Vellath rolls in his sleep," is J'lor's only comment on that idea. "I really had better go," he sighs. He'll lean forward first, though, to steal a quick kiss as he presses her pillow back into her hands.
"How do you know I don't?" Cassiel replies with a brief laugh and a wry smile, meeting the kiss without protest. "Take care, J'lor," she says afterwards, nudging at whatever part of him she can reach with the pillow. "Don't travel too far."
"You," J'lor counters, "shall not squash me if you roll atop me in the night. In fact, I rather like the idea of..." but he has been pushed and obediently, he stands. "We won't travel too far." And when he heads out to climb aboard the blue who would much rather stay on this ledge with his green companion, it is only to glide to their own weyr, and then to the weyrling clearing.