LOG: Never Asked
Date: Day 23, Month 2, Turn 26
Location: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Pleasant conversation at the lake turns... less pleasant.
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
It is a rare day of cloudless sunshine, though the temperatures are markedly colder.
The glorious, cloudless sunshine present today is paid for by the sharp chill in the air; even so, there are plenty of High Reachians out and about enjoying the sun. One of them, down by the snow-covered lake shore, is K'del, who has both hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket as he meanders along. Some of the weyr children are skating out on the lake, and he pauses, glancing over to regard them with a fondness that is visible even when most of his face is not, his scarf wrapped almost up to his nose.
The sun is enough to draw even the reclusive out of their weyrs, and so Wroth wings down from his ledge towards the lake shore. It's a quick landing into the snow-spattered shoreline for the brown and his rider shuffles down to the ground. E'dre's bundled up against the chill in the air. A scarf is tucked in around his neck, a hat is pulled down low over his ears, and hands are mitted. He isn't interested in the kids skating, but K'del's shape up ahead has the brownrider picking up his pace. "K'del!" he calls.
The elements don't seem to bother most of the exiles as much as they do others, which is maybe why Emme is able to make do with just a heavy sweater, scarf, and thin gloves rather hten an actual jacket. She came to see this 'skating' thing that others have told her about, and winds up walking on a near collision course with K'del. Until she hears his name called, and she pauses in her travels to watch the goings on from a slight distance.
Distracted first by the kids on the ice, and then by the sound of his name being called, K'del doesn't notice Emmeline's approach (yet) - it's a good thing /she/ notices him. His head turns to track the sound of his name, brows raising slightly as he calls back, "Afternoon, E'dre. Nice to get some sun, isn't it?" There's definite casualness to his tone: today is not a hard-work today. Or, at least, /this afternoon/ is not.
"Dunno," E'dre answers, shrugging with an indifferent twist to his lips. "Just nice not to have more snow. Wroth and I have been visiting Boll or Igen most days we can," the brownrider admits with a smile. He notices Emmeline, "Careful there. Don't want to bump into the Weyrleader. Trouble for sure if you do, right K'del?" There's a teasing tone to his voice as he fights to keep a straight face.
"Really?" Emme's already stopped walking, fortunately. But she glances between E'dre - who gets a nod of greeting - and the Weyrleader, lips twisting into a smirk. "I didn't realize that was an infraction around here. Can I still get in trouble for that, even if I'm the harper's problem now?" Well, mostly their problem. Sort of. She doesn't quite seem cowed by this possibility. Just a little bemused.
"Cadejoth and I have only made it as far as the local holds," admits K'del, ruefully. "He doesn't want to get too far from Iovniath. Brr." The brownrider's remarks to Emmeline has him turning, an expression of apology briefly visible about his eyes before he says, "/Definitely/ trouble. Don't want to get on my bad side - even if you /are/ someone else's problem. How's that going, anyway?"
E'dre clucks his tongue, "Bummer. Boll's actually been pretty nice last few sevens, little breeze, warm beaches...," he pauses, laughing as he rubs at the back of his neck. "Bet that isn't helping /you/ at all to know that?" He furrows his brows slightly, looking at Emmeline. "Who else's problem are you?"
"Brr for the weather, or for Iovniath?" Emme wonders, the question genuine. Of couse, it sounds bad and she totally shouldn't have asked it. But now that it's said... well, too late! Her brow furrows in realization there, but apparently she decides not to draw attention to it. Ahem. "Get on your bad side, when I haven't been causing any trouble at all? You /are/ difficult, aren't you." she replies, before sighing wistfully at the description of warm weather. "The Harper's problem. Junior Apprentice, and Islander Exile at your service." Snerk.
K'del groans, however good-naturedly. "Don't remind me. Don't expect I'll get anywhere like that again before spring." And this is High Reaches: that will be /months/ away. His gaze flickers back to Emmeline again, mouth twitching in a way that is obvious even through the layers of his scarf. His voice, of course, is muffled. "Bit of both?" He's amused, at least. "She's a winter queen, Iovniath. And yes, I'm /very/ difficult. One of the benefits of great power, etc."
E'dre nods his head. "Apprenticing, huh? Best of luck in that. I hated that aspect of my craft by far," E'dre answers, grinning, "Though I wasn't formal with any of it, anyway." He shakes his head to K'del, "Bummer, that's all I can say." His brow twitches up and he chuckles. "Great power? I thought power only ever brought headaches." He gestures around the lakeshore. "I mean, being stranded to the snow... yeah... I'd rather not have the power." Grin. "Good thing I'll never have to worry about that."
"Well then, I suppose I should be on my best behavior around you." Somehow, Emmeline doesn't sound entirely convinced. In fact, it almost appears she's going to ask a question... likely an impolitic one... when talk of apprenticing distracts her. Saved by the more pressing curiousity! "What craft did you apprentice in? I just... well, it's all I really know. And I enjoy it." And any other benefits she hopes to glean from the craft are nothing more then a little bit of a knowing smile that she's unable to quite keep to herself. "Isn't it true that there will be eggs on the sand soon? And that means the candidate barracks will need to be used? Many of us are still housed there. What's going to happen, then?" /That/ question really did just come to her, and it causes a bit of a furrowed brow.
Firmly, but not really seriously, K'del declares, "You /should/." E'dre's remark about power makes him smirk; he unwraps the scarf from his mouth to make it easier to talk and, as he drops his hands back into his pockets, insists, "There're benefits to everything. Plenty of downsides, too, though, sure. Headaches." Lots of them. Emmeline's question draws a pause, and he stamps his feet against the chill as if he's using it to stall for time. "There's plenty of room in the barracks - two caverns, forty beds in each. You can all share. 'sides, some of you might end up as candidates, anyway." Beat. "Eggs soon, probably. Within a week or two."
"Oh, but I think we both know I wouldn't be able to hold that for long." Emmeline points out, her smile perfectly angelic when she points out the obvious. And when E'dre skates off a little again, probably because of K'del's hemming and hawing and not wanting to answer questions, she just watches. And waits. "I see." she finally replies, thoughtful. "You know that we all realize we're being kept sequestered at the Weyr. And now, even further... kept in candidate quarters rather then being considered full residents. And, it's also come to some of our attention that High Reaches Weyr is literally being /paid/ to keep us locked away here. Eventually you'll have a rebellion on your hands." Not from her, it seems, since her tone is pretty neutral about it all.
Actually, K'del seems genuinely horrified by the idea of the exiles being 'locked' away. "If you want to move out of the barracks," he says, a hint of sharpness audible in his tone, "it can be arranged. Just seemed like most of you /wanted/ to stick together. /Wanted/ to have each other for support." He takes half a step back, eyeing Emmeline with obvious wariness. "You're not being locked up here. True, we're keeping you at the weyr. /For now/. Seems to me the weyr is straneg enough without you having to deal with the rest of Pern, as well. We're getting some assistance with your upkeep; is that a problem? Should we all starve in order to keep you fed and clothed?" Okay, now he just sounds defensive.
"I don't think I would mind moving out of the barracks. I've no family left. And the majority of the blooded exiles still alive are more concerned about themselves and their precious lands then anything else. Why bother staying, or helping them?" The reply isn't nearly as defensive as K'del's was, but Emme still seems perhaps understandably mistrustful. "Are we really that much of a burden, after so many of us died?" she wonders, in genuine curiousity. "Some of us have found jobs, and a way to earn our keep. Make everyone else do the same. We *all* know how to do laundry. Surely working in the kitchen, or the stables, or even the bar does not require someone to have an aprenticable talent. We all need useful skills to survive out in the rest of Pern." Oh, what /is/ she up to?
K'del takes off his woolly hat, scraping the gloved fingers of his other hand through his hair as he regards Emmeline, perhaps a little more levelly, now, given she isn't actually yelling at him. It still takes him a few seconds to respond, however, his mouth shifting unreadably before: "Ask your Journeymen, then. If you can move into the Apprentice Dorms. It's not like other exiles haven't moved out; don't have a problem with it." His gaze has narrowed, however, and it lingers like that before he adds, "That's the plan: make everyone contribute. No free rides, now that the illness is over. But-- yeah, you've taxed our resources. It may look like we have unlimited supplies around here, but we don't. We depend on the Holds. More than I'd like, but there it is."
Emmeline appears somewhat pained at the idea of having to stay with a dorm full of people at least 5 Turns her junior. But, well, it may be worth it. That she just nods at the suggestion must mean she's pretty serious about it. "Yes, I know Seani moved into the resident dorms awhile ago. She seems really happy." And the harper would like a little happy, please. "Tithe. That's what it's called, isn't it? The Holds that each Weyr is supposed to protect during a Pass. They provide the food and clothing and raw materials and marks to the Weyr even during an Interval, because taking care of the dragons is too much effort for riders to be expected to have other full-time occupations." Yes, someone /does/ pay attention during class. "Don't think that I believe there's nothing else doing on though. Everyone, our own Elders and Blooded as well as High Raches Hold and the Weyr... everyone is just out to get what /they/ want and cover their own asses in the process. I get that. I've just decided I want a bit of it for myself too, since if I leave it to others, it'll all be gone before I have the chance."
K'del must notice the pained nature of Emmeline's expression; there's some hint of sympathy in his, in return. "It's not so bad, those dorms. They're new. Nicer stuff in there than most of the dorms." /Newer/ stuff. Scratching idly at one ear, he continues, with a nod: "Tithes. Right, exactly. They support us, and in return, we protect them from Thread during the Pass, and help out in other ways during the Interval. But Intervals are always hard: they forget." He worries at his lower lip with his teeth, still wary of whatever it is Emmeline is getting at; he's not entirely sure, if his expression is anything to go by. "That's human nature, isn't it? To try and get what you want. But some of us /do/ want to help other people. I /want/ to do right by you all. Is there... something specific you're after, then?"
"I could care less about how new or nice it is." Emme admits, handwaving the consideration with a shrug. "What we've got now is pretty much luxury compared to what we all grew up with." Which is the sad, sad truth. They came there in little better then cleaning rags. "Sure it's human nature. But it shouldn't be human nature to /expect/ people you've undermined, cast aside, mistreated, or harmed in some way to /help/ you get what you want." Ok, maybe there's a bit of bitterness in her voice there. As for doing right by them, all she can do is raise abit of an eyebrow. "No, nothing specific. I just want to do what's right also. And then wash my hands of the whole thing, because I know I'm certainly not going to get any benefit out of it even if I can help some of them get what they want." she admits. "And it'll be easier to do if I start to separate myself now. That's all."
The bitterness draws thoughtful silence from K'del, who bites again at his lip rather than respond immediately. He lets Emmeline finish, shrugging his hands back into his pockets (wool hat still clutched rather than worn). Finally; "Guess I can see that. Respect it, even. Know I wouldn't want to be known as one of 'the exiles' for the rest of my life." His expression turns rueful. "It's hard enough being known as the kid Weyrleader, when I've gone and grown up. Honestly, if you'd rather separate yourself completely, and go do your Apprenticeship at Harper Hall, I wouldn't stop you." He sounds thoughtful as he says that, his brows raising just slightly as he waits for her response to /that/. "Individual cases like that, people trying to blend in to something... I can respect that."
"Right. I'd rather be known for what I do, then where I grew up." The girl agrees, shoving her own gloved hands into her pant pockets. She has real pants now, so she can do that. "Kid Weyrleader? I can see how that might be awkward." Even if it provides her a bit of amusement; even Emmeline can't help but smile a little at that. "I'll think about it. Doing my Apprenticeship at the Hall. I still have a few friends here it'd be hard to leave behind. But, if it makes the apprentice period go by faster..." Well, who could argue with that? "I'll talk to the Journeymen here about it, since I have to go through them for everything anyway. Thank you." But, can one watch ice-skating without being curious enough to pose more questions? Really? "How do they make those... things, the kids are gliding around the ice on."
"Reckon we'd all rather be known for ourselves than for anything else," agrees K'del, with another twitch of his lips: he is clearly terribly conscious of his own kid weyrleader sobriquet. "Mm, of course. Just a thought. If you decide to go for it, you'll have the weyr's blessing. Or mine, anyway." Same thing? Possibly. His nod is probably intended to accept her thanks, though he doesn't confirm it verbally. Instead, his gaze follows Emmeline's towards the lake, and he laughs. "They're made of sharpened metal. You attach them to your boots, and they just-- uh, slice through the ice, I guess? They're called skates. It's lots of fun."
"Think when you have grey hair, they'll stop calling you that?" What, she's not trying to twist the knife. Really! "I am sure that the Journeymen will check with you before they let me go all the way to Harper Hall, so I appreciate that. The weyr's blessing." Her voice warms to the idea, apparently. And maybe a little bit of tension eases from her shoulders. "Sharpened metal? Slicing through the ice." Intriguing, but excuse her skeptical expression that it's called 'fun'. "Uh-huh. Right. They seem to be enjoying themselves. But, I think I'd rather just watch them. Something tells me it'd be my ass on the ice far more often then the sharpened metal ice slicers."
Quietly; "Sometimes it's easier to leave 'home'. To become the person you want to be, not the person you've always been." K'del seems to know something about that, though he doesn't explain it further. "No, I reckon I'll be the kid Weyrleader until I'm no longer Weyrleader. After that, I'll be 'that kid Weyrleader we had once'." He sounds as though he's trying not to mind too much, though at least there's a hint of amusement in his tone. "It-- there's a bit of a learning curve." To skating. "It took me ages. And I'm still not as good - after, like, eight winters or something - as a lot of the people who grew up here. But it /is/ fun."
"Is it?" Emme wonders about this, glancing sideways at the Weyrleader as they sort of both stand there with hands in pockets watching the children skate on the lake. "It sure would be nice to be the person I always /thought/ I was, until we came here. But now, it would just be nice to find out what I /can/ be, if I really want to." If that makes any sort of sense at all. Which, after thinking on it a moment, it may not. "Ah-ha. So in other words I really /would/ spend less time standing and more time sitting. Still, maybe sometime. Like, when there's nobody around to point and laugh."
It seems to make enough sense to K'del that he laughs, nodding. "Mm. Right," he agrees, lowly, shuffling his feet against the chilly air: the sun may be shining, but it's not really very warm out here. "Guess that's the best we can ask for anyone: the ability to become the person we /can/ be. The best person we can be." Of the skaters, he adds, then, "Doubt too many people would laugh. There's always new folks around who don't know how-- most people'd be more than happy to teach you, if you were interested."
Down the edge of the lake, where the ice is thin and the skaters are not traveling to and fro, Celadion wanders. He comes with a confident stride and his chin thrust out and a line of fish slung over one shoulder. While he's close enough to hear the laughter, and his head does swivel in that direction, the look he offers the pair having a conversation there alongside the skating end of the lake is guarded. The familiar face is the only reason he lingers and doesn't continue his walk towards the weyr.
Shining sun is more then enough for her. No foot shuffling from Emmeline; not yet, anyway. And for now she seems perfectly content to let the subject die out from there. "Even friends laugh once you've fallen a couple times and you look ike an idiot." Droll, always droll. And she nods a bit in a pointing sort of gesture at a pair of giggling children that are keeping their skating to the very edge of the lake closest to the shore. "See. Look at them chuckling at some of the less talented out there. I figure full dark, all the kids asleep, and maybe one or two other people that don't know how to skate either." That's her story, and she's sticking to it. Celadion, when he cmes into view is given a familiar polite smile and nod. Even a bit of a wave.
"You have too much dignity," declares K'del, though it seems to be more in jest than absolutely serious. One of his hands withdraws from his pocket again, gloved fingers running loosely through blonde curls. The motion of Emmeline's wave, caught in the corner of his vision, draws his attention away from the harper and towards the newcomer. /His/ greeting is polite, but not completely unfriendly: "Afternoon!"
Celadion's curt upthrust of chin may seem unfriendly, or perhaps it's the flat, still guarded look in his black eyes. Coming closer, he adjusts the the pole against his shoulder and sizes up K'del in the manner of a young man to a rival, or it may only appear that from the way emotions don't trickle into his features. Then he turns to Emmeline, using the hand with the fish to issue a sort of salute with them. "Hello." That spoken for both but the rest for the girl alone, "Emme, how have you been?"
Emmeline grins, somewhat impishly at the observation that she has too much dignity. "You're probably right. I had to... before. You know, one of those things that's expected of you. But I wonder, is throwing a ball of snow at the Weyrleader too dignified? That is tempting." The smile even reaches her eyes for a second there before her expression turns to a puzzled sort of curiousity at Celadion's manner. "I've been good, Cel. How about you?" She nods at the line of fish. "A good catch, it looks like. K'del and I were just talking about the metal things the kids are wearing to glide on the ice. Look fun to you?"
K'del regards Celadion levelly in return, his politeness unchanged, though there's definite reserve in his expression, now. He'll let Emmeline do the chattering, though he puts in, cheerfully, "Iolene got me with one the other day; reckon you could probably get away with it, too. Just feel lucky Cadejoth isn't down here to join in... he gives me a kind of unfair advantage, really."
"I'm alive." Celadion remarks to the question of his welbeing. The tone indicates that it should be a good thing, nevermind his expression. "I thank you for the compliment. Though I have seen the big ones the dragon fish out of here..." Such unfairness to this young man. He gives the skaters a glance, and it's just barely that before shrugging up his shoulder. The responce is quiet for pointed, "It's foolish. A waste of time. But, what else do we have to do here hhmm?" It's not said harshly though, the tone mild enough, perhaps too mild. "Would you throw snowballs at our Elders? I hardly think it's worthwhile doing such a thing to their leader." So, he's not been paying much attention to knots and what-nots.
"Well, with such big talons... I can see how it would be easy for them to catch big fish." Emme replies easily, a smile kept on her face despite the underlying censure in Celadion's imparted conversation. "You haven't found much to do here? I'm kept busy all day with lessons." she replies, imbueing her tone with shocked surprise, fake though it may be. "Music theory, the teaching ballads, singing, composing, law, diplomacy, arbitatration, critical thinking, observational skills... a waste of time now and then doesn't do anyone too much harm after all that I would think. But then, I know I've been lucky to be accepted into a craft. Since you're doing so well with fishing, maybe you'd enjoy the seacraft?" she suggests, keeping the conversation going despite just really wanting to poke Celadion's eyes out with a rusty spork at the moment. "I bet the Elders would enjoy a good snowball fight were they up to one. Should I throw one at you instead, since you don't think it's apropriate to throw one at K'del here?" There's something apologetic in her glance when she looks over at the ridr again. "Dragons enjoy snowball fights too?"
"Their size gives them an advantage," puts in K'del, on the fishing front, though he's quick to add, "Seems like you did all right, still. Cel, was it?" He doesn't offer one of his hands for shaking; perhaps he's just being careful. It would be pretty embarrassing to offer, and have it refused. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of fun occasionally, surely. Even Elders can have fun, sometimes. And-- sure, dragons, too. Some of them, anyway. Cadejoth likes games, but I guess not all of them do. Just like some people enjoy games, and others don't." Beat. His attention turns back towards Celadion. "I'm sure we can find a job for you. Something to keep you busy."
"I'm too old for lessons." Cela remarks pointedly. "I'm twenty and four--far, far too old, and we're not allowed to leave this place, so why would I bother? I'm not begging anyone to take me on." Not that there is any fire in his tone, more the lack of heat that should be more telling in his defeat. Having his hands full of rod and fish would have made it difficult exchanging the greeting with K'del but he does give a nod at the greeting, "Celadion." The way he stretches out the name indicates he doesn't want the other man to shorten it. And as for keeping him busy? He just makes an uncertain huffing sound under his breath. Instead it's Emme he turns his conversation back to, "You throw the snow, I'll throw the fish. Since I'm hampered by the catch and my pole...you wouldn't be so cruel to attack an unarmed man? Would you?"
"Oh who said anything about begging." Emme replies, sounding a bit exasperated. "Just because -I- did, doesn't mean anyone else has to. Admittedly, I was a bit desperate. But anyhow..." Her voice trails off, because just how awkward is this conversation anyway? "You know what? I -would- be that cruel." she decides, tired of his flat tone. So what does she do? She gathers up snow in both hands, and throws one at /each/ of the two men. So there.
Older than K'del. Something that the bronzerider must be aware of, given the tightness of his expression - but not something he's going to actually /comment/ on. Whatever his answers to either of them were going to be, he's forestalled by Emmeline's snowball, not quite managing to duck in time. It lands squarely on his chest, and he lets out a squealing sound (not very manly) before he drops in order to grab up one of his own. "You don't have to /Apprentice/, Celadion," he puts in, then, with a glance towards the other man that, this time, contains a smile. "Plenty of other jobs a person can take up."
The snowball pings the side of Celadion's head and he let out a bark of shock before hunching down to protect himself with the pole-carying arm. No way he's gonig to ditch his catch it appears. After scowling at Emme for her snowball fighting he waves the pole end at her as though he might just take it to her backside if she tries another toss his way. Using his arm and shoulder to wipe snow and melting ice from his cheek he remarks to K'del, "Drudgery. I have heard of this 'Drudge' job you have awaiting us. Why should my hard work aide you?"
Emmeline looks just horribly put upon by the response from both K'del and Celadion. "/Really/. One of you squeals and the other one acts like an old man with creaky joints and his trusty walking stick. You really not that scary, you know." she adds, glancing at the waving fishing pole with exasperation. An expression that survives all the way through his question about hard work and drudgery. But for this one she stays tight lipped.
K'del's snowball never makes it into the air: it's stopped short by Celadion's words. "I've no intention of making you - or anyone else - into a drudge," he says, words tightly clipped. "Why shouldn't your hard work aide me? I'm paying for your food. Your clothes. The roof over your head. /Everyone/ works at the weyr. /Everyone/ contributes." His glance at Emmeline is apologetic, but right now, he's looking pretty pissed off and unhappy.
"I never asked for your roof, your clothes or 'your' food. As though you plucked it right out of the mud yourself." Celadion notes with unwavering confidence. "I'm not -everyone-." The remark from Emme gets a little side-slanted smile, "You're not afraid because you know I don't thrash women like some might." But, his cold look returns to K'del, waiting to see if he's going to force his nose to the grind-stone, or give him what he wants: A ticket home.
"Or maybe cause thrashing women under any circumstances isn't acceptable and nobody would blame me for ruining your chances at reproduction if you did it." Emmeline adds, as a possible additional reason she doesn't think Celadion is frightening at the moment. "Well, nobody that could actually do anything to me about it." she corrects herself, returning the side-slanted smile and clasping her hands behind her back. "Can't you think of it like the island, Cel? Just think about it, for awhile. Everybody worked there too. It was different work. Familiar work. But we worked ourselves to the bone, every single day of our lives for sparse and barely nutritive food, for flimsy huts. For wives and husbands we might not even -like-. And we did it because it's what we were supposed to do. Because someone hoped that one day we would be rescued, so that your bloodline could be restored. Imagine how the non-blooded feel right now before you keep up with the pity party."
Pissed off that K'del no doubt is, he bites back what would probably be the obvious answer: let me abandon you in the middle of nowhere, then, to fend for yourself. Presumably, he's smart enough to have worked out that, for Celadion, that would be /exactly/ the right answer. At any rate, he saves his response until after Emmeline has spoken, giving the harper girl another glance - with an unreadable expression - before he remarks, coolly, "I'll have Giorda assign you duties starting tomorrow, /Celadion/. Emmeline, I think it's a losing battle. If you'll both excuse me?" Perhaps his anger, now, is exactly why Taikrin is going to get reamed, later. Lucky Taikrin.
Celadion smirks a bit at Emmeline, for all that she says. But it's the look that he sweeps over her that is the most telling. Full of loathing, as though she stepped in something rotten and the smell will never be clean of her. "This. Isn't. Our. Island." And an extra, slowly placed period at the end after all the others. "Don't you talk to me of duties you have never faced. You don't know what you're talking about girl." Because really, he's 7 years older than she is and in no shape to be tutored by her in the ways of the world. "The non-blooded can do what they want, and the blooded too for that matter." As for the chores he'll be assigned? It's a stone face that meets the suggestion. And likely a cozy day between before he actually does them.
"Oh, now, there it is. Of course it's not our island you moron. Does it look like our fucking island? No, funny. It doesn't look like it to me either." Emme retorts, returning his look with one of her own. Though hers is closer to disappointment then true loathing. "You just keep away from me. I have no doubt it will be easy for you, since you despise me so much. Your immaturity knows /no/ bounds, does it." For someone older then her, he sure acts like one of the littles! So with that, she just turns aside and starts walking back.
Location: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Pleasant conversation at the lake turns... less pleasant.
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
It is a rare day of cloudless sunshine, though the temperatures are markedly colder.
The glorious, cloudless sunshine present today is paid for by the sharp chill in the air; even so, there are plenty of High Reachians out and about enjoying the sun. One of them, down by the snow-covered lake shore, is K'del, who has both hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket as he meanders along. Some of the weyr children are skating out on the lake, and he pauses, glancing over to regard them with a fondness that is visible even when most of his face is not, his scarf wrapped almost up to his nose.
The sun is enough to draw even the reclusive out of their weyrs, and so Wroth wings down from his ledge towards the lake shore. It's a quick landing into the snow-spattered shoreline for the brown and his rider shuffles down to the ground. E'dre's bundled up against the chill in the air. A scarf is tucked in around his neck, a hat is pulled down low over his ears, and hands are mitted. He isn't interested in the kids skating, but K'del's shape up ahead has the brownrider picking up his pace. "K'del!" he calls.
The elements don't seem to bother most of the exiles as much as they do others, which is maybe why Emme is able to make do with just a heavy sweater, scarf, and thin gloves rather hten an actual jacket. She came to see this 'skating' thing that others have told her about, and winds up walking on a near collision course with K'del. Until she hears his name called, and she pauses in her travels to watch the goings on from a slight distance.
Distracted first by the kids on the ice, and then by the sound of his name being called, K'del doesn't notice Emmeline's approach (yet) - it's a good thing /she/ notices him. His head turns to track the sound of his name, brows raising slightly as he calls back, "Afternoon, E'dre. Nice to get some sun, isn't it?" There's definite casualness to his tone: today is not a hard-work today. Or, at least, /this afternoon/ is not.
"Dunno," E'dre answers, shrugging with an indifferent twist to his lips. "Just nice not to have more snow. Wroth and I have been visiting Boll or Igen most days we can," the brownrider admits with a smile. He notices Emmeline, "Careful there. Don't want to bump into the Weyrleader. Trouble for sure if you do, right K'del?" There's a teasing tone to his voice as he fights to keep a straight face.
"Really?" Emme's already stopped walking, fortunately. But she glances between E'dre - who gets a nod of greeting - and the Weyrleader, lips twisting into a smirk. "I didn't realize that was an infraction around here. Can I still get in trouble for that, even if I'm the harper's problem now?" Well, mostly their problem. Sort of. She doesn't quite seem cowed by this possibility. Just a little bemused.
"Cadejoth and I have only made it as far as the local holds," admits K'del, ruefully. "He doesn't want to get too far from Iovniath. Brr." The brownrider's remarks to Emmeline has him turning, an expression of apology briefly visible about his eyes before he says, "/Definitely/ trouble. Don't want to get on my bad side - even if you /are/ someone else's problem. How's that going, anyway?"
E'dre clucks his tongue, "Bummer. Boll's actually been pretty nice last few sevens, little breeze, warm beaches...," he pauses, laughing as he rubs at the back of his neck. "Bet that isn't helping /you/ at all to know that?" He furrows his brows slightly, looking at Emmeline. "Who else's problem are you?"
"Brr for the weather, or for Iovniath?" Emme wonders, the question genuine. Of couse, it sounds bad and she totally shouldn't have asked it. But now that it's said... well, too late! Her brow furrows in realization there, but apparently she decides not to draw attention to it. Ahem. "Get on your bad side, when I haven't been causing any trouble at all? You /are/ difficult, aren't you." she replies, before sighing wistfully at the description of warm weather. "The Harper's problem. Junior Apprentice, and Islander Exile at your service." Snerk.
K'del groans, however good-naturedly. "Don't remind me. Don't expect I'll get anywhere like that again before spring." And this is High Reaches: that will be /months/ away. His gaze flickers back to Emmeline again, mouth twitching in a way that is obvious even through the layers of his scarf. His voice, of course, is muffled. "Bit of both?" He's amused, at least. "She's a winter queen, Iovniath. And yes, I'm /very/ difficult. One of the benefits of great power, etc."
E'dre nods his head. "Apprenticing, huh? Best of luck in that. I hated that aspect of my craft by far," E'dre answers, grinning, "Though I wasn't formal with any of it, anyway." He shakes his head to K'del, "Bummer, that's all I can say." His brow twitches up and he chuckles. "Great power? I thought power only ever brought headaches." He gestures around the lakeshore. "I mean, being stranded to the snow... yeah... I'd rather not have the power." Grin. "Good thing I'll never have to worry about that."
"Well then, I suppose I should be on my best behavior around you." Somehow, Emmeline doesn't sound entirely convinced. In fact, it almost appears she's going to ask a question... likely an impolitic one... when talk of apprenticing distracts her. Saved by the more pressing curiousity! "What craft did you apprentice in? I just... well, it's all I really know. And I enjoy it." And any other benefits she hopes to glean from the craft are nothing more then a little bit of a knowing smile that she's unable to quite keep to herself. "Isn't it true that there will be eggs on the sand soon? And that means the candidate barracks will need to be used? Many of us are still housed there. What's going to happen, then?" /That/ question really did just come to her, and it causes a bit of a furrowed brow.
Firmly, but not really seriously, K'del declares, "You /should/." E'dre's remark about power makes him smirk; he unwraps the scarf from his mouth to make it easier to talk and, as he drops his hands back into his pockets, insists, "There're benefits to everything. Plenty of downsides, too, though, sure. Headaches." Lots of them. Emmeline's question draws a pause, and he stamps his feet against the chill as if he's using it to stall for time. "There's plenty of room in the barracks - two caverns, forty beds in each. You can all share. 'sides, some of you might end up as candidates, anyway." Beat. "Eggs soon, probably. Within a week or two."
"Oh, but I think we both know I wouldn't be able to hold that for long." Emmeline points out, her smile perfectly angelic when she points out the obvious. And when E'dre skates off a little again, probably because of K'del's hemming and hawing and not wanting to answer questions, she just watches. And waits. "I see." she finally replies, thoughtful. "You know that we all realize we're being kept sequestered at the Weyr. And now, even further... kept in candidate quarters rather then being considered full residents. And, it's also come to some of our attention that High Reaches Weyr is literally being /paid/ to keep us locked away here. Eventually you'll have a rebellion on your hands." Not from her, it seems, since her tone is pretty neutral about it all.
Actually, K'del seems genuinely horrified by the idea of the exiles being 'locked' away. "If you want to move out of the barracks," he says, a hint of sharpness audible in his tone, "it can be arranged. Just seemed like most of you /wanted/ to stick together. /Wanted/ to have each other for support." He takes half a step back, eyeing Emmeline with obvious wariness. "You're not being locked up here. True, we're keeping you at the weyr. /For now/. Seems to me the weyr is straneg enough without you having to deal with the rest of Pern, as well. We're getting some assistance with your upkeep; is that a problem? Should we all starve in order to keep you fed and clothed?" Okay, now he just sounds defensive.
"I don't think I would mind moving out of the barracks. I've no family left. And the majority of the blooded exiles still alive are more concerned about themselves and their precious lands then anything else. Why bother staying, or helping them?" The reply isn't nearly as defensive as K'del's was, but Emme still seems perhaps understandably mistrustful. "Are we really that much of a burden, after so many of us died?" she wonders, in genuine curiousity. "Some of us have found jobs, and a way to earn our keep. Make everyone else do the same. We *all* know how to do laundry. Surely working in the kitchen, or the stables, or even the bar does not require someone to have an aprenticable talent. We all need useful skills to survive out in the rest of Pern." Oh, what /is/ she up to?
K'del takes off his woolly hat, scraping the gloved fingers of his other hand through his hair as he regards Emmeline, perhaps a little more levelly, now, given she isn't actually yelling at him. It still takes him a few seconds to respond, however, his mouth shifting unreadably before: "Ask your Journeymen, then. If you can move into the Apprentice Dorms. It's not like other exiles haven't moved out; don't have a problem with it." His gaze has narrowed, however, and it lingers like that before he adds, "That's the plan: make everyone contribute. No free rides, now that the illness is over. But-- yeah, you've taxed our resources. It may look like we have unlimited supplies around here, but we don't. We depend on the Holds. More than I'd like, but there it is."
Emmeline appears somewhat pained at the idea of having to stay with a dorm full of people at least 5 Turns her junior. But, well, it may be worth it. That she just nods at the suggestion must mean she's pretty serious about it. "Yes, I know Seani moved into the resident dorms awhile ago. She seems really happy." And the harper would like a little happy, please. "Tithe. That's what it's called, isn't it? The Holds that each Weyr is supposed to protect during a Pass. They provide the food and clothing and raw materials and marks to the Weyr even during an Interval, because taking care of the dragons is too much effort for riders to be expected to have other full-time occupations." Yes, someone /does/ pay attention during class. "Don't think that I believe there's nothing else doing on though. Everyone, our own Elders and Blooded as well as High Raches Hold and the Weyr... everyone is just out to get what /they/ want and cover their own asses in the process. I get that. I've just decided I want a bit of it for myself too, since if I leave it to others, it'll all be gone before I have the chance."
K'del must notice the pained nature of Emmeline's expression; there's some hint of sympathy in his, in return. "It's not so bad, those dorms. They're new. Nicer stuff in there than most of the dorms." /Newer/ stuff. Scratching idly at one ear, he continues, with a nod: "Tithes. Right, exactly. They support us, and in return, we protect them from Thread during the Pass, and help out in other ways during the Interval. But Intervals are always hard: they forget." He worries at his lower lip with his teeth, still wary of whatever it is Emmeline is getting at; he's not entirely sure, if his expression is anything to go by. "That's human nature, isn't it? To try and get what you want. But some of us /do/ want to help other people. I /want/ to do right by you all. Is there... something specific you're after, then?"
"I could care less about how new or nice it is." Emme admits, handwaving the consideration with a shrug. "What we've got now is pretty much luxury compared to what we all grew up with." Which is the sad, sad truth. They came there in little better then cleaning rags. "Sure it's human nature. But it shouldn't be human nature to /expect/ people you've undermined, cast aside, mistreated, or harmed in some way to /help/ you get what you want." Ok, maybe there's a bit of bitterness in her voice there. As for doing right by them, all she can do is raise abit of an eyebrow. "No, nothing specific. I just want to do what's right also. And then wash my hands of the whole thing, because I know I'm certainly not going to get any benefit out of it even if I can help some of them get what they want." she admits. "And it'll be easier to do if I start to separate myself now. That's all."
The bitterness draws thoughtful silence from K'del, who bites again at his lip rather than respond immediately. He lets Emmeline finish, shrugging his hands back into his pockets (wool hat still clutched rather than worn). Finally; "Guess I can see that. Respect it, even. Know I wouldn't want to be known as one of 'the exiles' for the rest of my life." His expression turns rueful. "It's hard enough being known as the kid Weyrleader, when I've gone and grown up. Honestly, if you'd rather separate yourself completely, and go do your Apprenticeship at Harper Hall, I wouldn't stop you." He sounds thoughtful as he says that, his brows raising just slightly as he waits for her response to /that/. "Individual cases like that, people trying to blend in to something... I can respect that."
"Right. I'd rather be known for what I do, then where I grew up." The girl agrees, shoving her own gloved hands into her pant pockets. She has real pants now, so she can do that. "Kid Weyrleader? I can see how that might be awkward." Even if it provides her a bit of amusement; even Emmeline can't help but smile a little at that. "I'll think about it. Doing my Apprenticeship at the Hall. I still have a few friends here it'd be hard to leave behind. But, if it makes the apprentice period go by faster..." Well, who could argue with that? "I'll talk to the Journeymen here about it, since I have to go through them for everything anyway. Thank you." But, can one watch ice-skating without being curious enough to pose more questions? Really? "How do they make those... things, the kids are gliding around the ice on."
"Reckon we'd all rather be known for ourselves than for anything else," agrees K'del, with another twitch of his lips: he is clearly terribly conscious of his own kid weyrleader sobriquet. "Mm, of course. Just a thought. If you decide to go for it, you'll have the weyr's blessing. Or mine, anyway." Same thing? Possibly. His nod is probably intended to accept her thanks, though he doesn't confirm it verbally. Instead, his gaze follows Emmeline's towards the lake, and he laughs. "They're made of sharpened metal. You attach them to your boots, and they just-- uh, slice through the ice, I guess? They're called skates. It's lots of fun."
"Think when you have grey hair, they'll stop calling you that?" What, she's not trying to twist the knife. Really! "I am sure that the Journeymen will check with you before they let me go all the way to Harper Hall, so I appreciate that. The weyr's blessing." Her voice warms to the idea, apparently. And maybe a little bit of tension eases from her shoulders. "Sharpened metal? Slicing through the ice." Intriguing, but excuse her skeptical expression that it's called 'fun'. "Uh-huh. Right. They seem to be enjoying themselves. But, I think I'd rather just watch them. Something tells me it'd be my ass on the ice far more often then the sharpened metal ice slicers."
Quietly; "Sometimes it's easier to leave 'home'. To become the person you want to be, not the person you've always been." K'del seems to know something about that, though he doesn't explain it further. "No, I reckon I'll be the kid Weyrleader until I'm no longer Weyrleader. After that, I'll be 'that kid Weyrleader we had once'." He sounds as though he's trying not to mind too much, though at least there's a hint of amusement in his tone. "It-- there's a bit of a learning curve." To skating. "It took me ages. And I'm still not as good - after, like, eight winters or something - as a lot of the people who grew up here. But it /is/ fun."
"Is it?" Emme wonders about this, glancing sideways at the Weyrleader as they sort of both stand there with hands in pockets watching the children skate on the lake. "It sure would be nice to be the person I always /thought/ I was, until we came here. But now, it would just be nice to find out what I /can/ be, if I really want to." If that makes any sort of sense at all. Which, after thinking on it a moment, it may not. "Ah-ha. So in other words I really /would/ spend less time standing and more time sitting. Still, maybe sometime. Like, when there's nobody around to point and laugh."
It seems to make enough sense to K'del that he laughs, nodding. "Mm. Right," he agrees, lowly, shuffling his feet against the chilly air: the sun may be shining, but it's not really very warm out here. "Guess that's the best we can ask for anyone: the ability to become the person we /can/ be. The best person we can be." Of the skaters, he adds, then, "Doubt too many people would laugh. There's always new folks around who don't know how-- most people'd be more than happy to teach you, if you were interested."
Down the edge of the lake, where the ice is thin and the skaters are not traveling to and fro, Celadion wanders. He comes with a confident stride and his chin thrust out and a line of fish slung over one shoulder. While he's close enough to hear the laughter, and his head does swivel in that direction, the look he offers the pair having a conversation there alongside the skating end of the lake is guarded. The familiar face is the only reason he lingers and doesn't continue his walk towards the weyr.
Shining sun is more then enough for her. No foot shuffling from Emmeline; not yet, anyway. And for now she seems perfectly content to let the subject die out from there. "Even friends laugh once you've fallen a couple times and you look ike an idiot." Droll, always droll. And she nods a bit in a pointing sort of gesture at a pair of giggling children that are keeping their skating to the very edge of the lake closest to the shore. "See. Look at them chuckling at some of the less talented out there. I figure full dark, all the kids asleep, and maybe one or two other people that don't know how to skate either." That's her story, and she's sticking to it. Celadion, when he cmes into view is given a familiar polite smile and nod. Even a bit of a wave.
"You have too much dignity," declares K'del, though it seems to be more in jest than absolutely serious. One of his hands withdraws from his pocket again, gloved fingers running loosely through blonde curls. The motion of Emmeline's wave, caught in the corner of his vision, draws his attention away from the harper and towards the newcomer. /His/ greeting is polite, but not completely unfriendly: "Afternoon!"
Celadion's curt upthrust of chin may seem unfriendly, or perhaps it's the flat, still guarded look in his black eyes. Coming closer, he adjusts the the pole against his shoulder and sizes up K'del in the manner of a young man to a rival, or it may only appear that from the way emotions don't trickle into his features. Then he turns to Emmeline, using the hand with the fish to issue a sort of salute with them. "Hello." That spoken for both but the rest for the girl alone, "Emme, how have you been?"
Emmeline grins, somewhat impishly at the observation that she has too much dignity. "You're probably right. I had to... before. You know, one of those things that's expected of you. But I wonder, is throwing a ball of snow at the Weyrleader too dignified? That is tempting." The smile even reaches her eyes for a second there before her expression turns to a puzzled sort of curiousity at Celadion's manner. "I've been good, Cel. How about you?" She nods at the line of fish. "A good catch, it looks like. K'del and I were just talking about the metal things the kids are wearing to glide on the ice. Look fun to you?"
K'del regards Celadion levelly in return, his politeness unchanged, though there's definite reserve in his expression, now. He'll let Emmeline do the chattering, though he puts in, cheerfully, "Iolene got me with one the other day; reckon you could probably get away with it, too. Just feel lucky Cadejoth isn't down here to join in... he gives me a kind of unfair advantage, really."
"I'm alive." Celadion remarks to the question of his welbeing. The tone indicates that it should be a good thing, nevermind his expression. "I thank you for the compliment. Though I have seen the big ones the dragon fish out of here..." Such unfairness to this young man. He gives the skaters a glance, and it's just barely that before shrugging up his shoulder. The responce is quiet for pointed, "It's foolish. A waste of time. But, what else do we have to do here hhmm?" It's not said harshly though, the tone mild enough, perhaps too mild. "Would you throw snowballs at our Elders? I hardly think it's worthwhile doing such a thing to their leader." So, he's not been paying much attention to knots and what-nots.
"Well, with such big talons... I can see how it would be easy for them to catch big fish." Emme replies easily, a smile kept on her face despite the underlying censure in Celadion's imparted conversation. "You haven't found much to do here? I'm kept busy all day with lessons." she replies, imbueing her tone with shocked surprise, fake though it may be. "Music theory, the teaching ballads, singing, composing, law, diplomacy, arbitatration, critical thinking, observational skills... a waste of time now and then doesn't do anyone too much harm after all that I would think. But then, I know I've been lucky to be accepted into a craft. Since you're doing so well with fishing, maybe you'd enjoy the seacraft?" she suggests, keeping the conversation going despite just really wanting to poke Celadion's eyes out with a rusty spork at the moment. "I bet the Elders would enjoy a good snowball fight were they up to one. Should I throw one at you instead, since you don't think it's apropriate to throw one at K'del here?" There's something apologetic in her glance when she looks over at the ridr again. "Dragons enjoy snowball fights too?"
"Their size gives them an advantage," puts in K'del, on the fishing front, though he's quick to add, "Seems like you did all right, still. Cel, was it?" He doesn't offer one of his hands for shaking; perhaps he's just being careful. It would be pretty embarrassing to offer, and have it refused. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of fun occasionally, surely. Even Elders can have fun, sometimes. And-- sure, dragons, too. Some of them, anyway. Cadejoth likes games, but I guess not all of them do. Just like some people enjoy games, and others don't." Beat. His attention turns back towards Celadion. "I'm sure we can find a job for you. Something to keep you busy."
"I'm too old for lessons." Cela remarks pointedly. "I'm twenty and four--far, far too old, and we're not allowed to leave this place, so why would I bother? I'm not begging anyone to take me on." Not that there is any fire in his tone, more the lack of heat that should be more telling in his defeat. Having his hands full of rod and fish would have made it difficult exchanging the greeting with K'del but he does give a nod at the greeting, "Celadion." The way he stretches out the name indicates he doesn't want the other man to shorten it. And as for keeping him busy? He just makes an uncertain huffing sound under his breath. Instead it's Emme he turns his conversation back to, "You throw the snow, I'll throw the fish. Since I'm hampered by the catch and my pole...you wouldn't be so cruel to attack an unarmed man? Would you?"
"Oh who said anything about begging." Emme replies, sounding a bit exasperated. "Just because -I- did, doesn't mean anyone else has to. Admittedly, I was a bit desperate. But anyhow..." Her voice trails off, because just how awkward is this conversation anyway? "You know what? I -would- be that cruel." she decides, tired of his flat tone. So what does she do? She gathers up snow in both hands, and throws one at /each/ of the two men. So there.
Older than K'del. Something that the bronzerider must be aware of, given the tightness of his expression - but not something he's going to actually /comment/ on. Whatever his answers to either of them were going to be, he's forestalled by Emmeline's snowball, not quite managing to duck in time. It lands squarely on his chest, and he lets out a squealing sound (not very manly) before he drops in order to grab up one of his own. "You don't have to /Apprentice/, Celadion," he puts in, then, with a glance towards the other man that, this time, contains a smile. "Plenty of other jobs a person can take up."
The snowball pings the side of Celadion's head and he let out a bark of shock before hunching down to protect himself with the pole-carying arm. No way he's gonig to ditch his catch it appears. After scowling at Emme for her snowball fighting he waves the pole end at her as though he might just take it to her backside if she tries another toss his way. Using his arm and shoulder to wipe snow and melting ice from his cheek he remarks to K'del, "Drudgery. I have heard of this 'Drudge' job you have awaiting us. Why should my hard work aide you?"
Emmeline looks just horribly put upon by the response from both K'del and Celadion. "/Really/. One of you squeals and the other one acts like an old man with creaky joints and his trusty walking stick. You really not that scary, you know." she adds, glancing at the waving fishing pole with exasperation. An expression that survives all the way through his question about hard work and drudgery. But for this one she stays tight lipped.
K'del's snowball never makes it into the air: it's stopped short by Celadion's words. "I've no intention of making you - or anyone else - into a drudge," he says, words tightly clipped. "Why shouldn't your hard work aide me? I'm paying for your food. Your clothes. The roof over your head. /Everyone/ works at the weyr. /Everyone/ contributes." His glance at Emmeline is apologetic, but right now, he's looking pretty pissed off and unhappy.
"I never asked for your roof, your clothes or 'your' food. As though you plucked it right out of the mud yourself." Celadion notes with unwavering confidence. "I'm not -everyone-." The remark from Emme gets a little side-slanted smile, "You're not afraid because you know I don't thrash women like some might." But, his cold look returns to K'del, waiting to see if he's going to force his nose to the grind-stone, or give him what he wants: A ticket home.
"Or maybe cause thrashing women under any circumstances isn't acceptable and nobody would blame me for ruining your chances at reproduction if you did it." Emmeline adds, as a possible additional reason she doesn't think Celadion is frightening at the moment. "Well, nobody that could actually do anything to me about it." she corrects herself, returning the side-slanted smile and clasping her hands behind her back. "Can't you think of it like the island, Cel? Just think about it, for awhile. Everybody worked there too. It was different work. Familiar work. But we worked ourselves to the bone, every single day of our lives for sparse and barely nutritive food, for flimsy huts. For wives and husbands we might not even -like-. And we did it because it's what we were supposed to do. Because someone hoped that one day we would be rescued, so that your bloodline could be restored. Imagine how the non-blooded feel right now before you keep up with the pity party."
Pissed off that K'del no doubt is, he bites back what would probably be the obvious answer: let me abandon you in the middle of nowhere, then, to fend for yourself. Presumably, he's smart enough to have worked out that, for Celadion, that would be /exactly/ the right answer. At any rate, he saves his response until after Emmeline has spoken, giving the harper girl another glance - with an unreadable expression - before he remarks, coolly, "I'll have Giorda assign you duties starting tomorrow, /Celadion/. Emmeline, I think it's a losing battle. If you'll both excuse me?" Perhaps his anger, now, is exactly why Taikrin is going to get reamed, later. Lucky Taikrin.
Celadion smirks a bit at Emmeline, for all that she says. But it's the look that he sweeps over her that is the most telling. Full of loathing, as though she stepped in something rotten and the smell will never be clean of her. "This. Isn't. Our. Island." And an extra, slowly placed period at the end after all the others. "Don't you talk to me of duties you have never faced. You don't know what you're talking about girl." Because really, he's 7 years older than she is and in no shape to be tutored by her in the ways of the world. "The non-blooded can do what they want, and the blooded too for that matter." As for the chores he'll be assigned? It's a stone face that meets the suggestion. And likely a cozy day between before he actually does them.
"Oh, now, there it is. Of course it's not our island you moron. Does it look like our fucking island? No, funny. It doesn't look like it to me either." Emme retorts, returning his look with one of her own. Though hers is closer to disappointment then true loathing. "You just keep away from me. I have no doubt it will be easy for you, since you despise me so much. Your immaturity knows /no/ bounds, does it." For someone older then her, he sure acts like one of the littles! So with that, she just turns aside and starts walking back.