Every Grain of Sand Was Once A Rock
IC Date: Day 17, Month 13, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: Islay, E'sere
Location: Exile Island, Beach
Synopsis: Islay returns the book she borrowed from E'sere, and they talk.
Beach,
Midday
The island's south-facing beach is long and narrow, tapering in broad curves to the east and west. The grey sand slopes up toward a short, rocky precipice. The cliff is about the height of a tall man, and several paths have been worn or cut into it. They lead to the treeline of a tropical forest, tall and shadowy even in the brightest sunshine.
Three islets are visible to the south, separated from the big island by relatively calm and shallow sea. The two nearest islet frames the silhouette of the farthest one and could be reached by capable swimmers. The third islet is far beyond the other two, a mere shape visible out to sea. Boats await at the shoreline for fishing and travel to the islets.
In the heavy wet season, it is always raining. However, there is an ebb and flow. Sometimes there is less rain, and sometimes there is more. The water pouning from the skies now is spilling down in sheets. People cannot walk through the rain, so much as swim through it.
It's another rainy day on the beach, and E'sere is settled on the sand by the shore about lunchtime, taking a break from whatever chore he currently has.
Islay, too, has been working, but come midday, she's heading down to the beach. In her hand is E'sere's book, carefully wrapped in a small piece of what looks like waterproof canvas. When she sees him, she walks over and offers a pleasant enough, "Hello," and stops a short distance from him, head turning to look in both directions around him. "I brought your book back," she says. The smile is nervous. "Figured it best t'give it to y'here." Word has apparently got around it's not too safe to approach E'sere. Not if you're female, at least. "Tried t'keep it dry."
"Oh?" E'sere glances around at the sound of a voice, blinking. He flashes a quick smile at Islay when she explains, and he nods. "Oh, right. Thank you, Islay. Did you enjoy it? I can get you another if you like--it won't take me but a moment to run up and get it." He doesn't invite her up herself this time, at least.
"It was ... interesting," Islay says, head tilting to one side. "There were words I didn't understand, but T'gar told me what they meant." She grins just a little, then chuckles at something, though she doesn't elaborate. "Sure, 'nother book would be nice, but no need t'get it now. Don't want t'risk it getting wet, an' all." She takes a step closer to him, holding the wrapped book out at arm's length. "It was nice reading it aloud with T'gar at night, an' all." There's a pause. "Thanks."
"Is it?" E'sere wonders. "I've never tried it, reading aloud to someone." A shrug. "I'll let you try my book of poetry next--I'll try to give it to you over dinner, if it's let up some by then." He glances upward, nose wrinkling. "So how are you, and T'gar both?"
Once she's released the book to him, Islay reclaims that step backwards. "I'm good," she replies, fidgeting just a little, her eyes scanning the beach. Nothing much around, just holes that are rapidly filling up with rainwater. "T'gar's good, too." She wipes her eyes, a droplet of water dripping off the end of her nose. "Just wet like ever'body else." She grins, the tunic she wears plastered to her skin, much like everyone else's clothes. "Sure wish it'd stop raining, but when it's dry, folks want it t'rain." She shrugs. "Ain't no between here." She looks down at her feet, toes digging into the wet sand. "How're you getting 'long? Things going all right for you an' Aivey?" It's not a prying kind of question, more just interest in how they're doing.
Islay's wariness of standing near him draws a wry smile to E'sere's mouth, and he doesn't comment. "Glad to hear it," he tells her instead, in answer. "Aivey and I are well, too. Enduring the rain--Aivey doesn't like it at all, and I can't say I do, either, but at least it doesn't fray my nerves quite the same way. I'd rather it be dry--well, to be honest, I'm really missing the Reaches' snow about now, but dry would be a start."
"Snow." The word is said slowly, as if Islay is trying to remember exactly what that is. "I r'member snow. It was fun t'play in." She chews her lower lip for a moment. "There's lots of things would be nice t'have here, but we makes do." She's quiet another moment, then, "Sand ain't as much fun t'fight with as snow, though." There's a grin there now. Sinking to the wet sand, she sits not far from him, but obviously keeping her distance. "There's talk of us going back there someday. You think we can?" A beat. "Really?" There's no eagerness in her tone, just mild curiosity.
"We do make do," agrees E'sere, nodding easily. "Very well, I have to say--much better than I ever could have expected when I arrived. Still, though, some things you can't replace. Snow is one of those." Pause. Her latter question makes him hesitate, frowning. "I... think we can, yes," he answers slowly. "But it will be difficult, and I can't fathom how. That's a question for J'lor, and for Derek."
Islay watches E'sere as he speaks, and gives a wry smile when he says they did better than he thought possible. "Ain't hard t'make do for some of us. Not all of us had lots b'fore we got here." She shrugs a shoulder, apparently in a mood to talk. "Course, would be nice t'have more clothes." A faraway expression touches her face. "That book ... all them pretty people wearing pretty clothes." A beat. "Do they really dress like that back there?" All right, it's a girly question, but she's a girl, after all. As for his last comment, Islay nods. "An' Nera," she reminds him.
"And Nera," agrees E'sere, nodding. And, fortunately for Islay, E'sere is something of a priss himself. He's more than qualified to answer a clothes question. "For speccial occasions, yes, we'll have fancier clothes, but for the most part, we don't dress up. Well, most people don't; the more... well-to-do people will tend to have nicer things, but. Nothing extravagant for everyday wear."
There's a moment where Islay seems to hang on his every word. "I r'member seeing 'em dressed up," she says, smiling. "Da was a guard, an' lots of times I could hide a'hind him when th' Lords an' Ladies came in th' hold. Ain't never had nothing nice like that m'self, but they were sure pretty t'look at." She fingers the hem of her tunic. "Must a'been hard f'you t'give all that up, an' live here with th' mud an' all. Me, I was just a kid, so it wasn't hard. I know some of the grown ups were ... not ever'body took to th' place easy. Not at first."
"You're from High Reaches Hold, yes?" E'sere asks. "With Lord Samien and Lady Sian. They always had good fashion sense," he notes wistfully. "A shame, what happened to the Lady." He lifts his shoulders slightly, a half-shrug. "It... Well. It was the best thing for me, and in the end, what I gained by coming here far outweighs what I had to give up--all my clothes and my furniture and everything is nothing compared to having my freedom."
Islay nods, recognizing at least one of the names. "Lord Samien, yes. I r'member him. Come Turn's End, he'd see all us kids got sweets," she says, smiling. "I sure miss sweets." Wistful, that, for a moment, then a frown. "What happened t'th' lady?" she asks, drawing her knees up, arms wrapping around them. "Ain't heard much about back there. Just bits an' pieces. Mostly stuff what happened a'long time ago." And then she's serious. "Some would say you made a bad choice t'leave, even if it wasn't good what y'left. I ain't heard lots about it, but ..." She shrugs. "Being free's better'n being not free. I r'member what them little rooms was like." Soft, that last.
"I always liked Samien--one of the better Lords, I felt," E'sere agrees, nodding slowly. "The Lady? Oh, she was murdered at the Weyr," he adds. "Someone tried to kill her daughter, but got her instead." He doesn't sound too broken up about it, but. Instead, he continues, "It is, yes. I was... going to be sent to Telgar and grounded there, permanently--rankless, a permanent prisoner under their Weyrleader. S'lien. I didn't want that, so I came here, even if it did mean leaving behind almost everything I knew."
There's a knit to her brow. "Rank?" Apparently, Islay is trying to wrap her mind about the concept. "I know about Lords an' Lady Holders, but dragonriders have rank, too? What kind of rank did y'have?" She's thoughtful a long time. "We don't have rank here. Ever'body's th' same. Course, Derek, Nera an' J'lor are leaders, but ain't th' same, I don't think. Derek ain't no Lord Holder, an' Nera's ..." She smiles almost fondly at the mention of the Headwoman's name. "Ever'body r'spects Nera. Things'd fall apart here if'n it weren't for her knowing how t'get things done." She shakes her head. "Shame about th' Lady. Who'd want t'kill a kid anyhow?"
"We have the Weyrleader and the Weyrwoman, of course," E'sere explains, "and below them, wingleaders, who are... something like J'lor. But there are several of them in a Weyr, for the different wings. We have nine regular ones at High Reaches. I was part of 2C." Pause. "Things are very contingent on rank, back there. And dragon color--the people back there would never follow J'lor, only because Vellath is blue. It's not fair, and that's... Well. You know why you're here," he notes wryly. "As for--I don't even pretend to understand why someone did that. I can't fathom that kind of behavior, myself."
Islay listens and it's clear she's filing all the information away for consideration later. Perhaps to discuss with T'gar, or at least mull it over. "J'lor's a good leader," she says, and there doesn't seem to be any doubt in her mind about that. "Don't seem right they wouldn't listen t'him 'cause he's riding a blue dragon. People what knows how t'do stuff should be 'lowed t'do it, by my way o'thinking." She nods about the various ranks in the weyr. "Don't know much about th' weyrs. Da didn't take much t'riders, says they're /all/ pompous asses." She snickers. "I don't agree with that much." Obviously. "So ... this weyrleader S'lien. He was gonna force you t'not fly? How come? I thought all dragons fought Thread."
"Well, some of them are," E'sere agrees. "But I don't think much of that kind myself. I... Well. I grew up in that atmosphere, and I couldn't imagine anything else until I came here, but you are right, you know." He hesitates again, then shrugs. "Yes, that was the punishment they decreed for me after my trial. They... They didn't want me to come here, and I suppose that was all they could think to do with me otherwise."
Her head cants to one side as she studies E'sere. The rain offers some respite, barely a drizzle now, that should soon clear up until later in the day. "I thought they sent all their criminals here," she says slowly. "Or staked 'em out for Thread." Something dark in those words. "Grounding a dragonrider doesn't seem right t'me. You know this S'lein?" But then she's off on the other point. "Ain't right, looking down on folks 'cause they don't ride a dragon, or have rank. If y'don't listen t'folks, how ya gonna know if they have a better way of doing things? Don't make sense t'me. Folks should do what folks can do."
"I know him," E'sere says, nodding. "I have for turns--he was at Tillek, and High Reaches before Telgar. I think they wanted me where they could keep an eye on me, not out here gathering an army, or whatever they thought, as though I'm capable of that." He shakes his head, smirk wry. "The thing is, the people back there aren't interested in new ways of doing things, even better ones. They want to preserve the status quo, everything just the way it is and always has been, because that keeps them in power."
Listening, hearing and understanding aren't necessarily the same things. That's obvious by the way Islay's brow wrinkles as she tries to make sense of what E'sere says. "Status ... quo?" This is obvious a new term for Islay, island raised and about as a-political as it comes. "I don't know what that means, but I understand most of th' rest." She's thoughtful for a moment. "When we first got here, there was folks what wanted t'do things th' same way as we done 'em back there, but it didn't work. Y'can't do things th' same here as there, an' we had t'come up with new ways. It was hard, but Nera took over an' things work here." There's a short pause, then a grin. "They think you were gonna gather an army? Here?" She laughs. "Think Derek, Nera an' J'lor'd have something t'say about that."
"It's a fancy term for the way things are," E'sere explains. "Usually used in a somewhat derogatory fashion for holding on to a position just because it's traditional or because it's most advantageous to the one person in charge." He grins. "I think they would, too. If anyone here is going to build an army, it will be them, not me. I don't have any interest in doing so myself; I just follow them."
Islay nods, still thoughtful. "You were a leader back there, right? You had rank, an' don't those with rank lead?" She chews on a thumbnail for a moment. "Mebbe they were just plain scared of you, an' that's why they didn't want t'send y'here." She grins, then, widely. "Don't think we'd make a good army, m'self. Oh, Da an' some other guards know how t'fight, but I ain't no soldier. Mebbe I might beat 'em over th'head with a fishing pole, but that's about it." She shakes her head at the silliness of that thought. "They ain't gonna let us come back. 'Sides, all they'd do is laugh at us, th' way we're dressed."
"I had a lot of friends," E'sere corrects Islay. "A lot of people who liked me, whether or not I had rank. It made them suspicious. As though I'm dangerous--I wouldn't even know where to begin if I wanted an army--if I wanted to hurt just one person. I'm no fighter." He shrugs easily, cocks a grin for the girl. "Mm. The very first thing I'm going to do when we do get back is round up all my marks and buy a new wardrobe."
Islay grins and shakes her head. "Clothes are important to you, huh?" She can't fathom this. "Fighting an' all ain't th' way t'get people t'follow anyone. Hurting people only makes 'em scared of you, an' they ain't gonna follow no one what they're scared of for long. Mebbe a while, but --" She shrugs. "Derek, well, he's scary, but he don't let no one hurt nobody. I give him that." She takes a breath, casting her eyes skyward. "An' what if we don't go back?" she asks, head canting to the side once more. "What you gonna do then? Marks ain't no good here, an' clothes ain't neither. It ain't whatcha look like that's important here, but what y'are. What if'n y'can't get back?"
"I'm... a bit of a clotheshorse," E'sere admits, ducking his head and grinning. "I feel better when I look nice." But he shrugs, and pauses a moment. "I don't think Derek is overly fond of me--we're very different people, but I still respect him, and what he's done here. If we don't go back... I don't know. I suppose we'll carry on here, the same as we are now."
There's silence from Islay for a few minutes, one of her hands dropping down to the wet sand where she absently draws letters with a finger. "Da says Derek don't let no one know what he thinks of 'em till it's needed," she says finally. "I don't know him like Da does. Ain't never needed t'see him for nothing." A moment where she regards the letters, then she wipes them away. "Don't guess it's easy, what any of 'em do around here. Lots of people t'keep track of, t'feed an' get t'do what needs t'be done. Takes a strong person t'pull this many people t'gether an' keep 'em alive." A beat. "Gotta give 'em all credit for doing what folks back there didn't think could be done. Man like Derek, he's got t'be stronger'n other men here t'lead." As for the clotheshorse comment. "You look good enough. Better'n most of 'em here." A smirk at that. Just a little one.
"I've spoken to him a few times, but that's all," E'sere says, shrugging. He only nods in answer to her words, though the latter ones draw a grin to his face. "Thank you," he tells her. "I do try. Though, this rain doesn't help--Aivey actually thinks it's like a constant bath, can you believe that?"
"She's got a point," Islay says, nodding. "For some, it's th' only bath they get." A wrinkle of her nose at that. "I don't mind it, but I'm used to it." She shrugs, and then smirks a bit more. "Kinda broke a heart r' two, you showing up with your fancy good looks, an' then being off limits." Islay laughs, apparently amused by this. "Though you were a right mess with fish stew on yer head." A giggle or two, at that memory. "She ain't gotta worry no more, though. Ain't nobody gonna come near you after that."
"Well, I wasn't initially," E'sere confesses, shaking his head. "But--well. Aivey's a little... possessive." His nose wrinkles good-naturedly, and he shrugs. "The fish stew--well. And Zoma--that won't be happening again, though I doubt on either end it will. It was just a little misunderstanding," he notes, emphasizing its scale.
Islay's head tilts to one side again. "Zoma?" she queries, then nods. "Ah, so it was Aivey what hit her. I was wondering, though it's not like others ain't wanted to pop her one now an' then. She can be a might ... irritating, she can." There's probably a story there, but Islay's not saying anything more about it. "Possessive." She repeats the word, sounding it out like she's testing it for liking or not. "Can't see reason for that. Seems t'me, if a person's with a person, it's cause they want t'be. Being possessive seems like y'don't trust th' person, an' if'n you can't trust th' person, the why be with 'em?" Another shrug. "I like being with T'gar, but I ain't gonna try t'say he can't be around people what he wants t'be around."
"I... can't say I understand it myself," E'sere notes. "I think it's less that she doesn't trust me than she just... doesn't trust other people, perhaps. I don't know. I'm not possessive that way, myself, so I don't rightly know. T'gar's a good man, though, as I know him, so I doubt you have anything to worry about."
"He's good t'me, leastways," Islay agrees. "He don't hurt me, an' he listens t'me when I get silly." There's a soft smile that touches her lips. "Course, I know he's a rider, an' th' dragons gonna rise sooner r' later. Can't avoid that." She pauses, glancing at the sky once more, perhaps judging how much longer the rain will be stopped. "T'gar explained that t'me, already. Can't say as I'd be happy t'think of him with another girl, but I gotta live with it 'cause of Echeloth." A moment, then, she picks up a handful of sand, squeezing it tightly. Sand comes out between her fingers. "Seems t'me, it's like this sand. Th' tighter y'squeeze, th' more it wants t'get away, an' all y'got left is dregs." She opens her hand to show a misshapen lump. "Don't want t'do that t'him."
"I'm sure you won't," E'sere agrees, reassuring. "You understand how it works, and so you can cope, and not drive him away. That's the biggest part of it, just understanding it, especially in regard to flights."
Islay nods. "Well, there's things in life y'may not like, but ain't no way 'round 'em," she says in a practical tone of voice. "I ain't smart about lots of things, but nature's something y'just can't fight. Th' dragons are gonna rise t'mate, an' that's th' way it is. Ain't no use in trying to argue with it. Nature's gonna win out every time." She glances now toward the ocean. "It's like that," she says, watching the wind blowing through the palms. "Wind comes hard, an' if th' tree limbs don't move with it, they'll be torn apart. Y'fight th' natural way of things, y'lose every time."
"You should talk to Aivey," E'sere notes with a smile.
"An' get fish stew dumped on m'head?" Islay asks, laughing, shaking her head. "No thanks." A pause. "'Sides, she don't want t'talk t'me. She thinks I talk down t'her, but I don't talk no different t'her than anybody else." The girl regards E'sere for a long moment, then smiles. "When you're someplace what's different than all you know, you gotta learn what works an' what doesn't. Take those trees. Like I said, if'n they don't bend with th' wind, they break. Don't matter none who you are here, just /what/ you are. Inside. Like nature. Even rocks don't last in nature. Every grain of sand on this beach was a rock oncet."
"She's not really that bad," E'sere protests, though weakly. "She... Well. She takes some getting used to, I'll admit, but. If I can handle her, anyone can, really," he confides, grinning.
Islay shakes her head, laughing softly. "Don't need t'get used t'her," she says, again rather practically. "I don't live with her. Ain't nobody gotta be 'round me what doesn't want t'be." She dusts her hands off and wraps her arms around her legs again. "I ain't got no problem with Aivey. Like anybody else, she needs m'help, she'll get it. That's th' way things work here. Waste of time, being upset over how something's said when there's more important stuff what needs t'be done." She chuckles. "Most folks just ignore what they don't want t'see 'r hear, anyways. Island ways ain't gonna change anytime soon."
"I suppose you're right, at that," E'sere agrees as he pushes himself to his feet and makes a vain attempt to brush sand from his soaked clothes. He tucks his wrapped-up book under one arm. "I should get going, though, and finish up my chores. Have a good day, Islay, and give T'gar my regards, please."
Islay chuckles. "Yeah, it's about that time. Rain'll be back soon enough." She climbs to her own feet. "I'll tell him," she says, nodding as she brushes what sand she can from her own clothes, her butt wet from sitting in the sand. "Though you'll probably see him at drills soon enough." Nothing much seems to bother Islay, and not because she's stupid, it's more a case of her being used to the way things work on the island. "Fitting in isn't about losing what you were 'r had," she says as a parting thought. "It's more about learning how t'be part of what's already here." With a wave, she turns and heads down the beach. "See you later."
Players: Islay, E'sere
Location: Exile Island, Beach
Synopsis: Islay returns the book she borrowed from E'sere, and they talk.
Beach,
Midday
The island's south-facing beach is long and narrow, tapering in broad curves to the east and west. The grey sand slopes up toward a short, rocky precipice. The cliff is about the height of a tall man, and several paths have been worn or cut into it. They lead to the treeline of a tropical forest, tall and shadowy even in the brightest sunshine.
Three islets are visible to the south, separated from the big island by relatively calm and shallow sea. The two nearest islet frames the silhouette of the farthest one and could be reached by capable swimmers. The third islet is far beyond the other two, a mere shape visible out to sea. Boats await at the shoreline for fishing and travel to the islets.
In the heavy wet season, it is always raining. However, there is an ebb and flow. Sometimes there is less rain, and sometimes there is more. The water pouning from the skies now is spilling down in sheets. People cannot walk through the rain, so much as swim through it.
It's another rainy day on the beach, and E'sere is settled on the sand by the shore about lunchtime, taking a break from whatever chore he currently has.
Islay, too, has been working, but come midday, she's heading down to the beach. In her hand is E'sere's book, carefully wrapped in a small piece of what looks like waterproof canvas. When she sees him, she walks over and offers a pleasant enough, "Hello," and stops a short distance from him, head turning to look in both directions around him. "I brought your book back," she says. The smile is nervous. "Figured it best t'give it to y'here." Word has apparently got around it's not too safe to approach E'sere. Not if you're female, at least. "Tried t'keep it dry."
"Oh?" E'sere glances around at the sound of a voice, blinking. He flashes a quick smile at Islay when she explains, and he nods. "Oh, right. Thank you, Islay. Did you enjoy it? I can get you another if you like--it won't take me but a moment to run up and get it." He doesn't invite her up herself this time, at least.
"It was ... interesting," Islay says, head tilting to one side. "There were words I didn't understand, but T'gar told me what they meant." She grins just a little, then chuckles at something, though she doesn't elaborate. "Sure, 'nother book would be nice, but no need t'get it now. Don't want t'risk it getting wet, an' all." She takes a step closer to him, holding the wrapped book out at arm's length. "It was nice reading it aloud with T'gar at night, an' all." There's a pause. "Thanks."
"Is it?" E'sere wonders. "I've never tried it, reading aloud to someone." A shrug. "I'll let you try my book of poetry next--I'll try to give it to you over dinner, if it's let up some by then." He glances upward, nose wrinkling. "So how are you, and T'gar both?"
Once she's released the book to him, Islay reclaims that step backwards. "I'm good," she replies, fidgeting just a little, her eyes scanning the beach. Nothing much around, just holes that are rapidly filling up with rainwater. "T'gar's good, too." She wipes her eyes, a droplet of water dripping off the end of her nose. "Just wet like ever'body else." She grins, the tunic she wears plastered to her skin, much like everyone else's clothes. "Sure wish it'd stop raining, but when it's dry, folks want it t'rain." She shrugs. "Ain't no between here." She looks down at her feet, toes digging into the wet sand. "How're you getting 'long? Things going all right for you an' Aivey?" It's not a prying kind of question, more just interest in how they're doing.
Islay's wariness of standing near him draws a wry smile to E'sere's mouth, and he doesn't comment. "Glad to hear it," he tells her instead, in answer. "Aivey and I are well, too. Enduring the rain--Aivey doesn't like it at all, and I can't say I do, either, but at least it doesn't fray my nerves quite the same way. I'd rather it be dry--well, to be honest, I'm really missing the Reaches' snow about now, but dry would be a start."
"Snow." The word is said slowly, as if Islay is trying to remember exactly what that is. "I r'member snow. It was fun t'play in." She chews her lower lip for a moment. "There's lots of things would be nice t'have here, but we makes do." She's quiet another moment, then, "Sand ain't as much fun t'fight with as snow, though." There's a grin there now. Sinking to the wet sand, she sits not far from him, but obviously keeping her distance. "There's talk of us going back there someday. You think we can?" A beat. "Really?" There's no eagerness in her tone, just mild curiosity.
"We do make do," agrees E'sere, nodding easily. "Very well, I have to say--much better than I ever could have expected when I arrived. Still, though, some things you can't replace. Snow is one of those." Pause. Her latter question makes him hesitate, frowning. "I... think we can, yes," he answers slowly. "But it will be difficult, and I can't fathom how. That's a question for J'lor, and for Derek."
Islay watches E'sere as he speaks, and gives a wry smile when he says they did better than he thought possible. "Ain't hard t'make do for some of us. Not all of us had lots b'fore we got here." She shrugs a shoulder, apparently in a mood to talk. "Course, would be nice t'have more clothes." A faraway expression touches her face. "That book ... all them pretty people wearing pretty clothes." A beat. "Do they really dress like that back there?" All right, it's a girly question, but she's a girl, after all. As for his last comment, Islay nods. "An' Nera," she reminds him.
"And Nera," agrees E'sere, nodding. And, fortunately for Islay, E'sere is something of a priss himself. He's more than qualified to answer a clothes question. "For speccial occasions, yes, we'll have fancier clothes, but for the most part, we don't dress up. Well, most people don't; the more... well-to-do people will tend to have nicer things, but. Nothing extravagant for everyday wear."
There's a moment where Islay seems to hang on his every word. "I r'member seeing 'em dressed up," she says, smiling. "Da was a guard, an' lots of times I could hide a'hind him when th' Lords an' Ladies came in th' hold. Ain't never had nothing nice like that m'self, but they were sure pretty t'look at." She fingers the hem of her tunic. "Must a'been hard f'you t'give all that up, an' live here with th' mud an' all. Me, I was just a kid, so it wasn't hard. I know some of the grown ups were ... not ever'body took to th' place easy. Not at first."
"You're from High Reaches Hold, yes?" E'sere asks. "With Lord Samien and Lady Sian. They always had good fashion sense," he notes wistfully. "A shame, what happened to the Lady." He lifts his shoulders slightly, a half-shrug. "It... Well. It was the best thing for me, and in the end, what I gained by coming here far outweighs what I had to give up--all my clothes and my furniture and everything is nothing compared to having my freedom."
Islay nods, recognizing at least one of the names. "Lord Samien, yes. I r'member him. Come Turn's End, he'd see all us kids got sweets," she says, smiling. "I sure miss sweets." Wistful, that, for a moment, then a frown. "What happened t'th' lady?" she asks, drawing her knees up, arms wrapping around them. "Ain't heard much about back there. Just bits an' pieces. Mostly stuff what happened a'long time ago." And then she's serious. "Some would say you made a bad choice t'leave, even if it wasn't good what y'left. I ain't heard lots about it, but ..." She shrugs. "Being free's better'n being not free. I r'member what them little rooms was like." Soft, that last.
"I always liked Samien--one of the better Lords, I felt," E'sere agrees, nodding slowly. "The Lady? Oh, she was murdered at the Weyr," he adds. "Someone tried to kill her daughter, but got her instead." He doesn't sound too broken up about it, but. Instead, he continues, "It is, yes. I was... going to be sent to Telgar and grounded there, permanently--rankless, a permanent prisoner under their Weyrleader. S'lien. I didn't want that, so I came here, even if it did mean leaving behind almost everything I knew."
There's a knit to her brow. "Rank?" Apparently, Islay is trying to wrap her mind about the concept. "I know about Lords an' Lady Holders, but dragonriders have rank, too? What kind of rank did y'have?" She's thoughtful a long time. "We don't have rank here. Ever'body's th' same. Course, Derek, Nera an' J'lor are leaders, but ain't th' same, I don't think. Derek ain't no Lord Holder, an' Nera's ..." She smiles almost fondly at the mention of the Headwoman's name. "Ever'body r'spects Nera. Things'd fall apart here if'n it weren't for her knowing how t'get things done." She shakes her head. "Shame about th' Lady. Who'd want t'kill a kid anyhow?"
"We have the Weyrleader and the Weyrwoman, of course," E'sere explains, "and below them, wingleaders, who are... something like J'lor. But there are several of them in a Weyr, for the different wings. We have nine regular ones at High Reaches. I was part of 2C." Pause. "Things are very contingent on rank, back there. And dragon color--the people back there would never follow J'lor, only because Vellath is blue. It's not fair, and that's... Well. You know why you're here," he notes wryly. "As for--I don't even pretend to understand why someone did that. I can't fathom that kind of behavior, myself."
Islay listens and it's clear she's filing all the information away for consideration later. Perhaps to discuss with T'gar, or at least mull it over. "J'lor's a good leader," she says, and there doesn't seem to be any doubt in her mind about that. "Don't seem right they wouldn't listen t'him 'cause he's riding a blue dragon. People what knows how t'do stuff should be 'lowed t'do it, by my way o'thinking." She nods about the various ranks in the weyr. "Don't know much about th' weyrs. Da didn't take much t'riders, says they're /all/ pompous asses." She snickers. "I don't agree with that much." Obviously. "So ... this weyrleader S'lien. He was gonna force you t'not fly? How come? I thought all dragons fought Thread."
"Well, some of them are," E'sere agrees. "But I don't think much of that kind myself. I... Well. I grew up in that atmosphere, and I couldn't imagine anything else until I came here, but you are right, you know." He hesitates again, then shrugs. "Yes, that was the punishment they decreed for me after my trial. They... They didn't want me to come here, and I suppose that was all they could think to do with me otherwise."
Her head cants to one side as she studies E'sere. The rain offers some respite, barely a drizzle now, that should soon clear up until later in the day. "I thought they sent all their criminals here," she says slowly. "Or staked 'em out for Thread." Something dark in those words. "Grounding a dragonrider doesn't seem right t'me. You know this S'lein?" But then she's off on the other point. "Ain't right, looking down on folks 'cause they don't ride a dragon, or have rank. If y'don't listen t'folks, how ya gonna know if they have a better way of doing things? Don't make sense t'me. Folks should do what folks can do."
"I know him," E'sere says, nodding. "I have for turns--he was at Tillek, and High Reaches before Telgar. I think they wanted me where they could keep an eye on me, not out here gathering an army, or whatever they thought, as though I'm capable of that." He shakes his head, smirk wry. "The thing is, the people back there aren't interested in new ways of doing things, even better ones. They want to preserve the status quo, everything just the way it is and always has been, because that keeps them in power."
Listening, hearing and understanding aren't necessarily the same things. That's obvious by the way Islay's brow wrinkles as she tries to make sense of what E'sere says. "Status ... quo?" This is obvious a new term for Islay, island raised and about as a-political as it comes. "I don't know what that means, but I understand most of th' rest." She's thoughtful for a moment. "When we first got here, there was folks what wanted t'do things th' same way as we done 'em back there, but it didn't work. Y'can't do things th' same here as there, an' we had t'come up with new ways. It was hard, but Nera took over an' things work here." There's a short pause, then a grin. "They think you were gonna gather an army? Here?" She laughs. "Think Derek, Nera an' J'lor'd have something t'say about that."
"It's a fancy term for the way things are," E'sere explains. "Usually used in a somewhat derogatory fashion for holding on to a position just because it's traditional or because it's most advantageous to the one person in charge." He grins. "I think they would, too. If anyone here is going to build an army, it will be them, not me. I don't have any interest in doing so myself; I just follow them."
Islay nods, still thoughtful. "You were a leader back there, right? You had rank, an' don't those with rank lead?" She chews on a thumbnail for a moment. "Mebbe they were just plain scared of you, an' that's why they didn't want t'send y'here." She grins, then, widely. "Don't think we'd make a good army, m'self. Oh, Da an' some other guards know how t'fight, but I ain't no soldier. Mebbe I might beat 'em over th'head with a fishing pole, but that's about it." She shakes her head at the silliness of that thought. "They ain't gonna let us come back. 'Sides, all they'd do is laugh at us, th' way we're dressed."
"I had a lot of friends," E'sere corrects Islay. "A lot of people who liked me, whether or not I had rank. It made them suspicious. As though I'm dangerous--I wouldn't even know where to begin if I wanted an army--if I wanted to hurt just one person. I'm no fighter." He shrugs easily, cocks a grin for the girl. "Mm. The very first thing I'm going to do when we do get back is round up all my marks and buy a new wardrobe."
Islay grins and shakes her head. "Clothes are important to you, huh?" She can't fathom this. "Fighting an' all ain't th' way t'get people t'follow anyone. Hurting people only makes 'em scared of you, an' they ain't gonna follow no one what they're scared of for long. Mebbe a while, but --" She shrugs. "Derek, well, he's scary, but he don't let no one hurt nobody. I give him that." She takes a breath, casting her eyes skyward. "An' what if we don't go back?" she asks, head canting to the side once more. "What you gonna do then? Marks ain't no good here, an' clothes ain't neither. It ain't whatcha look like that's important here, but what y'are. What if'n y'can't get back?"
"I'm... a bit of a clotheshorse," E'sere admits, ducking his head and grinning. "I feel better when I look nice." But he shrugs, and pauses a moment. "I don't think Derek is overly fond of me--we're very different people, but I still respect him, and what he's done here. If we don't go back... I don't know. I suppose we'll carry on here, the same as we are now."
There's silence from Islay for a few minutes, one of her hands dropping down to the wet sand where she absently draws letters with a finger. "Da says Derek don't let no one know what he thinks of 'em till it's needed," she says finally. "I don't know him like Da does. Ain't never needed t'see him for nothing." A moment where she regards the letters, then she wipes them away. "Don't guess it's easy, what any of 'em do around here. Lots of people t'keep track of, t'feed an' get t'do what needs t'be done. Takes a strong person t'pull this many people t'gether an' keep 'em alive." A beat. "Gotta give 'em all credit for doing what folks back there didn't think could be done. Man like Derek, he's got t'be stronger'n other men here t'lead." As for the clotheshorse comment. "You look good enough. Better'n most of 'em here." A smirk at that. Just a little one.
"I've spoken to him a few times, but that's all," E'sere says, shrugging. He only nods in answer to her words, though the latter ones draw a grin to his face. "Thank you," he tells her. "I do try. Though, this rain doesn't help--Aivey actually thinks it's like a constant bath, can you believe that?"
"She's got a point," Islay says, nodding. "For some, it's th' only bath they get." A wrinkle of her nose at that. "I don't mind it, but I'm used to it." She shrugs, and then smirks a bit more. "Kinda broke a heart r' two, you showing up with your fancy good looks, an' then being off limits." Islay laughs, apparently amused by this. "Though you were a right mess with fish stew on yer head." A giggle or two, at that memory. "She ain't gotta worry no more, though. Ain't nobody gonna come near you after that."
"Well, I wasn't initially," E'sere confesses, shaking his head. "But--well. Aivey's a little... possessive." His nose wrinkles good-naturedly, and he shrugs. "The fish stew--well. And Zoma--that won't be happening again, though I doubt on either end it will. It was just a little misunderstanding," he notes, emphasizing its scale.
Islay's head tilts to one side again. "Zoma?" she queries, then nods. "Ah, so it was Aivey what hit her. I was wondering, though it's not like others ain't wanted to pop her one now an' then. She can be a might ... irritating, she can." There's probably a story there, but Islay's not saying anything more about it. "Possessive." She repeats the word, sounding it out like she's testing it for liking or not. "Can't see reason for that. Seems t'me, if a person's with a person, it's cause they want t'be. Being possessive seems like y'don't trust th' person, an' if'n you can't trust th' person, the why be with 'em?" Another shrug. "I like being with T'gar, but I ain't gonna try t'say he can't be around people what he wants t'be around."
"I... can't say I understand it myself," E'sere notes. "I think it's less that she doesn't trust me than she just... doesn't trust other people, perhaps. I don't know. I'm not possessive that way, myself, so I don't rightly know. T'gar's a good man, though, as I know him, so I doubt you have anything to worry about."
"He's good t'me, leastways," Islay agrees. "He don't hurt me, an' he listens t'me when I get silly." There's a soft smile that touches her lips. "Course, I know he's a rider, an' th' dragons gonna rise sooner r' later. Can't avoid that." She pauses, glancing at the sky once more, perhaps judging how much longer the rain will be stopped. "T'gar explained that t'me, already. Can't say as I'd be happy t'think of him with another girl, but I gotta live with it 'cause of Echeloth." A moment, then, she picks up a handful of sand, squeezing it tightly. Sand comes out between her fingers. "Seems t'me, it's like this sand. Th' tighter y'squeeze, th' more it wants t'get away, an' all y'got left is dregs." She opens her hand to show a misshapen lump. "Don't want t'do that t'him."
"I'm sure you won't," E'sere agrees, reassuring. "You understand how it works, and so you can cope, and not drive him away. That's the biggest part of it, just understanding it, especially in regard to flights."
Islay nods. "Well, there's things in life y'may not like, but ain't no way 'round 'em," she says in a practical tone of voice. "I ain't smart about lots of things, but nature's something y'just can't fight. Th' dragons are gonna rise t'mate, an' that's th' way it is. Ain't no use in trying to argue with it. Nature's gonna win out every time." She glances now toward the ocean. "It's like that," she says, watching the wind blowing through the palms. "Wind comes hard, an' if th' tree limbs don't move with it, they'll be torn apart. Y'fight th' natural way of things, y'lose every time."
"You should talk to Aivey," E'sere notes with a smile.
"An' get fish stew dumped on m'head?" Islay asks, laughing, shaking her head. "No thanks." A pause. "'Sides, she don't want t'talk t'me. She thinks I talk down t'her, but I don't talk no different t'her than anybody else." The girl regards E'sere for a long moment, then smiles. "When you're someplace what's different than all you know, you gotta learn what works an' what doesn't. Take those trees. Like I said, if'n they don't bend with th' wind, they break. Don't matter none who you are here, just /what/ you are. Inside. Like nature. Even rocks don't last in nature. Every grain of sand on this beach was a rock oncet."
"She's not really that bad," E'sere protests, though weakly. "She... Well. She takes some getting used to, I'll admit, but. If I can handle her, anyone can, really," he confides, grinning.
Islay shakes her head, laughing softly. "Don't need t'get used t'her," she says, again rather practically. "I don't live with her. Ain't nobody gotta be 'round me what doesn't want t'be." She dusts her hands off and wraps her arms around her legs again. "I ain't got no problem with Aivey. Like anybody else, she needs m'help, she'll get it. That's th' way things work here. Waste of time, being upset over how something's said when there's more important stuff what needs t'be done." She chuckles. "Most folks just ignore what they don't want t'see 'r hear, anyways. Island ways ain't gonna change anytime soon."
"I suppose you're right, at that," E'sere agrees as he pushes himself to his feet and makes a vain attempt to brush sand from his soaked clothes. He tucks his wrapped-up book under one arm. "I should get going, though, and finish up my chores. Have a good day, Islay, and give T'gar my regards, please."
Islay chuckles. "Yeah, it's about that time. Rain'll be back soon enough." She climbs to her own feet. "I'll tell him," she says, nodding as she brushes what sand she can from her own clothes, her butt wet from sitting in the sand. "Though you'll probably see him at drills soon enough." Nothing much seems to bother Islay, and not because she's stupid, it's more a case of her being used to the way things work on the island. "Fitting in isn't about losing what you were 'r had," she says as a parting thought. "It's more about learning how t'be part of what's already here." With a wave, she turns and heads down the beach. "See you later."