LOG: Prison
Date: Day 1, Month 13, Turn 25
Location: Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Exiles bathe, disagree, and then upset Warucori.
Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr
Omnipresent clouds of steam slink across the tops of three naturally warm pools, set into the floor of this kidney-shaped cavern. Near the entrance the ceiling is high and polished, gleaming with little mineral specks as it sweeps downward into increasingly ragged, uneven steps. The foremost of the pools is squared off with wide steps leading down into the water and has faucets for bringing in cooler water from a rain-catching cistern. Primarily used for laundry, there's an almost constant film of suds along its surface until the circulating current clears it at the end of the day. Four sinks line the nearest wall and various tubs stored beneath allow for the washing of delicates. Laundry bags can be dropped off in the bins near the door and clean, folded laundry is stacked in rows of tall cubbies for easy pickup.
The bend in the cavern leads to a rougher-hewn part of the chamber where the two circular bathing pools welcome those in need of a wash. Towels and washcloths are kept in neat stacks on shelves along the wall, along with sacks of sweetsand and a few bars of precious soap. Stone benches provide a place for sitting to remove shoes and clothing, while a row of gleaming brass hooks stand above, ready to hold clothes and robes.
Quite willing to turn into a prune at this rate, another hot and fragrant bath to use as a convenient hideaway was just what the doc... er, harper ordered. The only problem being that she can't read while she's in here. Else Emme would quite likely spend every waking minute that she's not with children in here. That's just how awesome it is. And it's quiet, even when people are there. Sweet, sweet peace and quiet. Alllmost asleep.
Of course, the baths are rarely /completely/ quiet, though the new group trooping in with their escort is at least made up of adults and not children. Tomaeran's amongst them, still hale and healthy; he undresses with considerable care, evidently determined not to lose any of these fabulous new clothes he's purloined. Even as he gets into the water, not particularly concerned about who else might be in there, he's keeping half an eye on his set: they're his, no one else gets to touch them.
Devaki's been gone from the barracks for some days now. Whisked off to the infimary and never to be seen again, except -- here he is, being assisted though the entrance into the baths by one of the guards. His steps are uneven, shaky -- he looks pallid and sunken, far from his usual, confidant self. He's not looking anywhere but at his feet, concentrating on that -- it's fairly slow progress to the water's edge. Irritably, he shakes off the guard's assistance, then nearly topples over, a hand reached out to brace himself against the wall, breathing deeply.
One of the lower caverns ladies brought in Riorde and a handful of cohorts some time after Emmeline, but most of the others in that group have since gone. She's sunk in up to her chin, carving out her little patch of solitude and not even chatting quietly with Emmeline - alone and quiet, that is, until the latest group is brought in. Then, because she's too far away from the islander-harper to give her a nudge, she flicks a little water towards the other girl to draw her attention, still not saying anything.
Emmeline is startled not by the sound of someone else entering the water, or shuffling feet. But, water flicked on her face by Riorde. "Hey." she mutters, eyes flutering open to cast a 'WTF' look at Riorde. But it does give her pause to pay attention to her surroundings. And, of course, she totally ignores Tom. Because it's him. But the other entrant gets a concerned gaze at least. "Need help?" If he's not going to accept any from the guards, he might from friends. And then, she flicks water back at the other island girl.
Most of the young people in Tom's group head off to one of the further pools, but Tom's already in the water - and anyway, everyone knows he takes great pleasure in bothering the people he likes to bother (or so popular opinion would have it, anyway). It's only once he's in the water up to his chin that various glances in Devaki's direction draw the tall young man's gaze. Dryly, "You look like one of those sea-monster things chewed you up and spit you back out again, old man."
With a hand braced against the wall still, Devaki slowly works at unbuttoning that shirt, fingers unused to the novelty of many buttons fumbling with them. "They did," he replies to Tom, with a grimace as he braces himself to slide into the water. "But I can still kick your butt, cousin," he says forcefully, which seems particularly doubtful, given the wince of discomfort he displays as he eases into the water.
There, Emmeline offered and Riorde is off the hook, freed from the need to speak. These days, she's more stubbornly withdrawn than ever. Still, she watches first the progress of Tom and his pants, then Devaki the infirm. "Still alive," she observes, wry and rather bitter when she finally speaks up.
"Nice, Tom." Teacherly diapproval evident in Emmeline's voice, even if she doesn't look his way. And instead, when her offer of help goes unremarked, just closes her eyes and leans her head back again. "Still alive." she agrees, keeping her voice quiet. As if speaking up any will echo against the walls or something. "I was so sorry to hear about Kiami, Dev. If there's something I can do for you or Evali just let me know." Reaching over then, to uncap on eof the seetsand jars she wafts some of the scent there Riorde's way. "Someone called this a sandalwood scent. It's really relaxing. Should try it."
"I'd encourage you to come over here and prove it," says Tom, ignoring Emmeline and Riorde for now in favour of Devaki - it's all in the Blood, of course. "But I'm afraid you'd drown in the process." He's not quite talking over Emmeline, but since his words come just after hers, and /hers/ are about such a serious topic... he does falter at the end though, biting at his lip in what is probably recollection. More generally, he adds, "This rate, none of us'll be left to be sent back."
Only now does Devaki take note of Emmeline and Riorde, with a thin line of a smile, somewhat forced, particularly as he catches Riorde's comment. Emmeline's words earn a tightening of expression and a slight tip of head as the only acknowledgement. Condolences have been coming and been given too frequently of late to elicit more than that. Another wince, and he manages to sink into the water to his neck. Tomaeran's challenge only elicits a snort, but given Devaki doesn't rise to the challenge, it seems silent concession. His gaze drifts around the baths, noting their grouping -- all exiles -- and where the guards are. "Something you can do?" he finally says. "/Yes/." There's an edge to his voice, though he keeps it low enough. "Learn about them. Their customs. Their habits. Who rules them. And don't," his lips thin, "Trust them. With anything. That's what you can do, for Kiami. For those we've lost. We're owed Blood, now." The last has a hint of un-Devaki-like viciousness to it, as his gaze strays to Tomaeran, a nod of acknowledgement for his cousin's words. "And none left to trouble them."
Obligingly, Riorde drifts a little closer through the water and gives Emmeline's jar a glance and then a sniff. "It smells like..." She pauses. "I don't know what it smells like." She doesn't dip her fingers into the jar, instead retreating back to her former position. It's Devaki that has her attention more than the sweetsand, Riorde watching with a fixed, unreadable stare. The hardness in her might pass as agreement and her silence consensus, except that at the last she drags herself forward and up a few inches to intone, "Only your Blood?" Tensions and undercurrents on their exile island run too deep for her not to catch the allusion in the word, its silent capitalisation.
Letting go of a long sigh, Emme drops herself under the water once there's a bit of a silence. And then after a few seconds, re-emerges. It takes her a good moment or two before she acknowledges what it is Devaki thinks he's asking. "I remember speaking to K'del back on the Island, before they took us here. He mentioned to someone that there were no records of us at all. Nothing to prove our story. So I've spent my time making sure I know Maylin's records backwards and forwards. And then, I'll look through their records for clues." Her tension is palpable there, for a moment, letting Riorde's words sink in. And if her voice is rough when she talks again, it's probably just the humidity. "Can we not do that? On the Island it was bad enough. But there's too many people dead to divide ourselves like that now. And if anyone here thinks I haven't -already- been learning everyting I can about the people here, to see what I can find to help ALL of us, I don't even know what to say. I only have so much time in the day. I didn't even have enough for my own father."
Don't mind Tom if his eyes roll /intently/ at all Emmeline has to say. "Doubt they'd even let you anywhere near their records," he taunts the harper. "You're nothing to them. We're all nothing. We're going to prove otherwise, but that doesn't mean they intend to listen to us /now/." The young man straightens himself in the water: he and the other three are in one of the pools, alone, and talking intently. "I heard they want to send us all back to harper classes. That might help." That last is to Devaki, more thoughtful, more reasoned.
"No." Devaki is quick to answer Riorde, his gaze settling on her for a moment, "Not just mine. Every islander's blood." He allows the capitalization to fade away, to include all of them, as he shakes his head in response to Emmeline. "This transcends any divisions on the island. We need to stick together, now more than ever." He's looking at Tomaeran, mostly, as he says it, probably because he thinks his cousin is the one who'll require the most convincing. He nods, thoughtful all of a sudden, at Tom's words. "Yes," he agrees. "That will -- help. We must learn everything we can. This is what will help us -- later. Not yet."
"Fuck you, Tom. I'm all you've /got/ when it comes to proving that our ancestors were taken without a fair trial. If it wasn't for my records, you'd be even more fucked then you are now. Just remember that when you're feeling all smug and superior just because of your breeding." Emmeline sneers back at him, her peaceful mood so rapidly devolving she may as well just try and drown the man. "Don't worry, Devaki. I don't intend to let my personal dislike of some people get in the way of doing what I've promised I would do." And she stares at Tom, again. "I suggest for now, we let them think we trust them. That's the only way we're going to actually learn anything useful."
Riorde, mutinously, "He said it." But she subsides, and supposing that's the end goal, all is well between her and the others. She's silent even when Emmeline more or less explodes, watching reaction and counter-reaction without intervening.
There's a woman's voice by the door, "Oh Cori, I don't know..." And a little laugh from another woman in playful teasing,"You aren't worried I might 'peak' are you?" Two women can be seen now as the tall blonde leads a little dark haired crafter deeper into the rooms, "You have nothing to be ashamed of though, you're lovely." Cori is about to go in for the kiss when the voices make the other woman's head whip in that direction, spoiling the moment. "I don't think this is a good time. Later? I'll check with Zev and see when you're both free for the fittings." And like a shot from a gun, she is gone. "Well, alright, I will catch up with you later." Missing the conversations in the baths as the bluerider peers back the way she came, very amused.
Tomaeran scowls, turning his handsome face into a mask of inbridled contempt, mostly aimed at Emmeline. Something about Devaki's manner stops him from saying too much, more, though; he turns his voice to a drawl. "Ah, the little harper girl. Thinks she knows everything. I'm sticking together, cousin, don't think I'm not. But I think we need to be /realistic/ here. I think I'm too old to go back into harper classes, but I suppose I - and the rest of us here - will do what we have to." His glance back at his trousers - just making sure they're still there - has him catch sight of Cori out of the corner of one eye. His expression turns wary.
Devaki, like Riorde, watches Emmeline, silent. Unusually, too, for him: his face is notably drawn, pallid with recent sickness. He ducks his head under the water, wets his hair and gives it a vague sort of scrub. After Tomaeran speaks, he nods to his cousin, something flickering in his eyes, like a surprised sort of respect. All he says, finally, is: "An argument takes two sides. There's a lot of history, I don't deny that, but," he exhales, "We have to ignore old hurts. Old wounds. Old animosities. We've got too many new ones, now." He runs his hand through his hair again, in a vague attempt at scrubbing, and falls silent as his gaze, too, is drawn towards the new arrival, his expression equally cautious.
Having been the first there, it makes sense that Emmeline would be the first to go as well. So without another word to any of them, she takes her leave by wrapping a towel around herself as she pulls out of the water. And with averted face, revealing only the stony set to her expression, picks up her things and walks out with an escort following her. She'll drip water all the way back to the barracks at this point for all that she cares.
"I'm roasting." Abruptly, Riorde tires of this conference with its snapping and snarling. She makes for the edge and hauls herself out of the water, dripping all over the stone. There's no self-consciousness about her, too accustomed to her fellow islanders. Besides, who'd want her thin as she is, now that they all know what properly nourished women look like? She picks up a towel and wraps it round her; clothes come after.
Warucori is all smiles as she decides on sticking to her original plan. Voices in the baths are usual so she picks her way through the steam and it's not until the exile Emmeline brushes past her that she looks curious as to what's going on. "Hello." SHe greets them once she's closer, setting her bathing basket down and working on her leathers.
Emmeline's abrupt departure followed so quickly by Riorde's step out of the water has Tomeran blinking back at them, slightly owlish, though combined with that smirk it's less effective. "I'd rather fight /them/ than--" he begins, just barely above a whisper - besides, Warucori's coming closer. He gives /her/ a wary glance. Then, quietly, "Hello."
Devaki's gaze trails after Emmeline with a furrow of brow, though even if he were inclined to, she's gone too quickly for him to attempt to stop her. When Riorde, too, rises, his gaze settles on her, now, rising a bit out of the water, though he teeters and has to brace his hand against the edge of the pool to do so. "I'm not taking sides. I can't-- /we/ can't afford to. There's too few of us. You get that, right, Ri?" He glances back, at Tomaeran's whisper, a hint of something agreeable in the blond's expression, though he too, focuses on the bluerider to greet her with a neutral, "Hello," as well.
Riorde snags her shirt and pulls it over her head before she turns back towards the men in the pool. Glancing back, she hesitates but gives Devaki a short, clipped nod. "I get it." With a trace of her old mischief, the dark-haired girl's gaze slides over towards Tomaeran - she caught his comment - and as she walks towards the exit, after giving Warucori a brief, agreeable nod, Riorde reaches out and filches Tom's nice, new pants - and runs for it.
"Hello." She smiles back to Tomeran as she strips down to the skin. Leathers are put out of water range and she draws the towel and a few other bath-goodies closer to the edge of the pool before settling down on the edge and then into the water. "Nice to see more of your faces around." There's amusement for all the wariness, or perhaps it's for the few out of context comments she's overhearing now that she's close enough. She's about to say something more, lifting a hand to wave goodbye to Riorde but the pants-theft makes her laugh instead.
Tomaeran is too busy considering Warucori with an appraising eye to actually notice Riorde's larcenous endeavours (which is a good thing: the weyr probably doesn't need a naked Tom chasing her through the corridors). "We're always around," he says to the bluerider, with a glance back at Devaki; he's got a thin kind of smile in place, now. "We're just not always let out."
Devaki probably notes Riorde's little larcenous act, but, in the interests of preserving amicably (and sparing the Weyr Tomaeran-vision), he pointedly ducks under the water to cover any sort of response. Surfacing again, he hooks an arm over the edge of the pool, more to prevent himself slipping deeper and drowning than anything. "I'm sorry," he says, blandly, "We've been busy dying. Or being locked up." He can't quite keep the antagonism from his voice, entirely, and notes it with a grimace.
Warucori puts a hand to her mouth, coughing gingerly into it as it appears Tomaeran didn't notice and perhaps he doesn't mind being naked in public. Nice. She offers him a wink for his appraising, she's well fed for certain and what'cha-think-huh? "I am just glad to see you getting more freedom and you're looking well." Not hearing much coughing right? There's a sad nod about the dying, so much for being all steamy and sultry, "So I've heard. I'm awfully sorry to hear it."
That wink turns Tom's gaze bland and unreadable. "Now that you're feeding us food that agrees with our stomachs better, I'm sure we're all looking better. My cousin here still looks like a se-- something chewed him up and spit him out again, but I'm sure he'll get better." He sinks back into the water, letting him cover him to the neck, his blonde hair limp and dank about his face. "I'm sure you'd see more of us if we weren't locked up so much. If you /let us go/. We'd be no trouble."
There's something in Devaki's gaze as he stares at Warucori. Not necessarily in an interested way, but more like she's done something surprising and intriguing all of a sudden. Somehow, amazingly, he manages to hold his tongue at Tomaeran's comment towards him, though he can't quite prevent the roll of eyes ceiling-wards. It'd be hard to deny his current state, after all, looking as he does. "I could use more exercise," he tacks on, ignoring the fact that walking at all has him exhausted at the moment.
Warucori puts a hand to her throat, since her chest is now under the water, "-I- let you go?" A pause as she assures them, "-I- don't have any say in such matters." She can't help but look amused. The weyr give /her/ power? It'd be a hot day between. Her head shakes, giggling at the thought, "No, I think you would have been worse off if you would have not been contained when you became sick. Imagine how many more may have gotten ill otherwise." Smoothing damp hands through her hair she eases deeper into the water and then rises up again, "I'm Warucori by the way--what are your names?" Turning now to peer at them ever so curiously. "Exercise huh?" Asking Devaki, "Do the -escorts- go with you outside?" Not calling them guards today.
"You could talk to people who /could/," suggests Tom, suddenly all dimples. "Tell that that we're really very trustworthy, and that we want, very much, to-- rejoin society." He can turn on the charm when he wants to, though the impact is slightly spoiled by his added, "Our /guards/ take us for short walks sometimes, when they feel like it. It's not enough. We're used to being outside. Being contained is not right. We have rights, surely." Also? "And my great-grandfather was a Lord."
"The guards," Devaki seems set on calling a spade a spade, "Go everywhere with us." Indeed, the bluerider would've passed several loitering around outside the baths, waiting for the islanders to finish. He nods towards Tomaeran, then the gesture ceases as he watches his cousin turn on the charm. Somehow -- it involves another dunking under water -- he manages not to comment. The final remark earns the slightest of winces, though he's gazing at Warucori to judge her reaction. "Devaki," he offers his name, finally. "And my cousin is Tomaeran."
"Oh please." Warucori breaths, looking at Tomaeran, but she can't helpt but follow with an, "Aawww, you're cute." She does listen and ponder his words but in the end it's just a shake of her head, "I don't even know you to be able to vouch for you. Either of you, none of the others." And his bloodlines just makes her smile softly, "My grandfather was a farmer like my father." And it didn't land her growing up on an island, see. At last the names come out and she inclines her head to one and then the other, "Nice to meet you both. Surely the Weyrleader will be in to speak with you and you can apply your charms on him, or our Weyrwoman. NOt that I mind being charmed mind you." Damn them calling the escorts guards, her crinkled nose dislikes that, "Ask them to take you outside then." Turning to see who is on duty to guard the exiles in the pools.
'Cute' is probably not what Tomaeran would be liked to called, but he turns up the wattage on his smile nonetheless. He lays his head back on the edge of the pool, pointing one bare toe towards the water's surface. "They don't seem to like going out, much. They seem to think the weather is too cold, or too bad. /We/ have done nothing wrong. Why should we need guards to go where our legs can carry us?" He makes no remark on talking to the Weyrleader or Weyrwoman; this time, /his/ eyes roll.
Devaki has to bite his lower lip so that a snorted laugh doesn't escape him. Even so he can't help but to roll his eyes towards Tomaeran, leaning over to give his cousin an oh-so-pointed nudge. He's never going to let the man live /that/ down. Finally, reluctantly, he levers himself up out of the water, though this seems to take great effort, and he has to rest for a while on one of the rocks to catch his breath back. "They haven't come to see us. They probably don't want to get sick, as well," he finally notes, somewhat blandly. "If not them, who /should/ we talk to?"
Thanks to her lifemate, she's not much of a sit-back-and-watch, type of lady. The toe poking out above the water is given a little tweak as she reaches out for it and offers Tomaeran a meaningful smile. "I am certain the leadership feels that having you all together in one place will keep more order until you and your families understand what our world is like. We can't be forever tracking down lost newcomers or frantic mothers who fear dragons are kidnapping their children." The very idea makes her blanch. "Where have you been disallowed to go that you wanted to go?" And for who they should talk to? It makes her nibble her lower lip, going to see the weyrleader? Her? Geez, that's scary stuff, way over her head. "I guess...I don't know...Maybe if I understood more what you felt you wanted to see and do...I thought you all wanted to go back."
Tomaeran's brows raise, his eyes open wide: 'what?' asks his glance back at Devaki as the other exile nudges him. Innocence - if somewhat spoiled by the twist of his mouth. If he intended to say anything to his cousin, he's forestalled by the tweak of his toe, which his him rather rapidly turn his gaze back to the bluerider, as the toe disappears again. "I want my freedom. That's why I left the island: I want freedom. I want to make a life for myself, make some choices, see /something/ of the world." His tone is eager, even excited. More float, however, is is, "Instead, I feel like I'm waiting around to die."
Devaki's expression grows somewhat darker throughout Warucori's justifications, though it's probably not visible since she's focused on Tomaeran. "I want to be free to go wherever I want to go," he adds, on the heels of Tomaeran's words. "That's all any of us want. The freedom to choose to return to the islands, or not, as we will. I don't think that's too much for any free-thinking person to ask for."
Warucori's smile is sad, but understanding too, "Where is this place of freedom? What will you do for marks? That is, how will you put food in your belly, or find someone to care for you in sickness? If we just open our doors and put you out to run away to...where would you go?" She is curious, not knowing before just how badly they wanted to be free. "I thought we had been very kind to you and yours. Food, clothes, medication all without you having to lift a hand for anything. Do you know what that sort of care requires of you--beyond your island where you're still the grandson of some great Lord?" Which she sounds as though she does not believe at all.
"I don't think either of us," says Tom, hurrying, and sounding offended, "claimed we wanted to belong to /nowhere/. We just want the freedom to choose." There's a beat, and then, "Do you? Think it's generous, really? Do you think we ought to be bowing and scraping for thanks because you threw us some scraps, some second-hand clothing? Our great rescuers?" He sounds increasingly disgusted.
"We managed with nothing else before. We are not babes in the open. We probably know more about survival than you and yours could possibly comprehend." There's a stiffness to Devaki's posture as he pushes himself into an, admittedly shaky, standing position. "Do you know how to survive on an island with no food? What do when Thread falls and no one is there to protect you? How to survive when the rest of your family dies one by one, until you become immune to death? Do you know what it's like to slowly starve to death?" He takes a deep, if somewhat uneven breath. "Do you teach your young children by locking them up? Denying them the opportunity to be alone? Are they watched all hours of the day and night like criminals?"
Warucori lifts her shoulders up, "I /do/ think we have been generous." Her tone is hurt. that he doesn't feel they and she have not been. "Do I want your thanks or expect you to be thankful? I guess...I guess I thought it might cross your mind that food going to our children were going to yours and medication that we might need were going to help you. I don't think there should be bowing or scraping. " Through the hurt she is calm, but serious and troubled. "I flew to your island to help save people from the storm and I was refused and I was insulted and spit on. Fine, I understand your afraid, but I didn't have to do that and no, I don't want thanks and I don't care, but I want you to know it was done and people did go out of their way to help." She gives a little sniff, closing down now, "I think you just need to wait for the Weyrleaders to decide." Because she's certainly not swayed now. Turning to Devaki she says quietly, "If you were being treated like criminals, you would be in chains and fed mush and made to crush rocks day in and day out." Just as calm but there's anger under her tone as she adds, "I know what it's like to starve and to work the earth on your hands and knees from day dawn until sun set and happy for a tuber soup for dinner. So--perhaps you should not make judgements of -me-." The last a nasty little snap.
"Well!" says Tom, after a moment, turning his gaze between one person and the other. "If /this/ is generosity, then I think I want to try my luck elsewhere. /No/ man should be locked up and kept from the outdoors when he's done nothing but been unfortunate enough to be born on a lonely, isolated island. I," he rises from the water now, making his way towards the pool's edge, and the towels. "don't expect to be given everything with nothing in return. But I expect to be treated like a /person/." This whole speech would probably be more effective if it weren't for the quizzical - and increasingly horrified - question that comes at the end: "Where are my pants?"
Devaki's eyes narrow, his unsteady gait as much fuelled by anger as by lingering weakness as he strides over to collect his shirt. "Seems to me," he finally says, "That you and yours have prejudged us, first, by not giving us the choice to choose what we wish to do with our lives." He nods sharply in agreement with Tomaeran, and begins heading for the exit. Tomaeran's puzzled comment slows his path, though any stop to answer would ruin his appropriately dramatic exit, not to mention the fact that he's not sure how far he'll get on his feet. And so he exits, stage left.
Warucori spreads her arms and lays them along the back of the pool with an 'I don't give a shit' look on her face. Her mood has got to be bad because she doesn't even measure up a naked guy. Harsh. "You haven't given us anything. So, perhaps nothing for nothing I guess. I wonder. What do you think a person should be treated like? Because, you're being treated a fair lot better than a lot of people out there beyond your safe place." Let them chew on that some. Whatever fantasy they think is outside the barraks? Lies. Countering Devaki she assures, "You have been here all of ... a sevenday or two? Give our leadership time to figure out what to do."
"So we deserve to be caged like animals?" Despite the fact that Tom is genuinely upset by his missing pants - and is not hunting through other people's piles of clothing just in case - he can't stop himself from sneering a reply to the bluerider. "We haven't been given the opportunity to /do/ anything. Not even to work. How are we supposed to give anything back, when we have nothing to give?" He shakes his head, finally wrapping his towel around his waste and throwing his short on over the top. "You're a bunch of hypocrites. No one deserves to be locked up like that. /No one/."
"You're not caged like animals, we let you out." Warucori counters evenly. "We don't force you to work like a beast either. We try and struggle to make you well and fit." She's still angry, but at least she has her tone level again. "Like I said before, we can't be running off to rescue all of the lost people every time we turn our head." She lets out a breath, "I will bet you... a lot...that I tell you to go, without help, to the latrine from here and back to your dorm--you'd get lost." Because not so easy without someone guiding you all the way.
"With /guards/. An escort. To make sure we don't run away, or steal something. You don't trust us." Tom's past listening to reason, if he were ever there at all. "So you make all of your new people have a guard? To keep them from getting lost. Charming." The rest of the group he came in with are still in the water, but as Tom is clearly making moves to leave, one of the guards detaches himself to approach. Tom gives him a scathing look. "Now, you'll have to excuse me. My /jailer/ needs to put me back in my prison." It's funny how quickly those words have become part of the vernacular.
Warucori sits up in the pool, drawing herelf up all dripping and steamy as she eyes Tom make his departure, "When we have over a hundred strangers to the weyr at the same time who haven't been on the mainland their whole life and have no idea what dragons are? Yeah, we do." Because this is the first time it's happened in her lifetime, it's gotta be some written law. She doesn't smile though and doesn't look particuarly comfortable with the idea of all of those exiles roaming around free, particuarly given how angry these two have been.
Location: Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Exiles bathe, disagree, and then upset Warucori.
Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr
Omnipresent clouds of steam slink across the tops of three naturally warm pools, set into the floor of this kidney-shaped cavern. Near the entrance the ceiling is high and polished, gleaming with little mineral specks as it sweeps downward into increasingly ragged, uneven steps. The foremost of the pools is squared off with wide steps leading down into the water and has faucets for bringing in cooler water from a rain-catching cistern. Primarily used for laundry, there's an almost constant film of suds along its surface until the circulating current clears it at the end of the day. Four sinks line the nearest wall and various tubs stored beneath allow for the washing of delicates. Laundry bags can be dropped off in the bins near the door and clean, folded laundry is stacked in rows of tall cubbies for easy pickup.
The bend in the cavern leads to a rougher-hewn part of the chamber where the two circular bathing pools welcome those in need of a wash. Towels and washcloths are kept in neat stacks on shelves along the wall, along with sacks of sweetsand and a few bars of precious soap. Stone benches provide a place for sitting to remove shoes and clothing, while a row of gleaming brass hooks stand above, ready to hold clothes and robes.
Quite willing to turn into a prune at this rate, another hot and fragrant bath to use as a convenient hideaway was just what the doc... er, harper ordered. The only problem being that she can't read while she's in here. Else Emme would quite likely spend every waking minute that she's not with children in here. That's just how awesome it is. And it's quiet, even when people are there. Sweet, sweet peace and quiet. Alllmost asleep.
Of course, the baths are rarely /completely/ quiet, though the new group trooping in with their escort is at least made up of adults and not children. Tomaeran's amongst them, still hale and healthy; he undresses with considerable care, evidently determined not to lose any of these fabulous new clothes he's purloined. Even as he gets into the water, not particularly concerned about who else might be in there, he's keeping half an eye on his set: they're his, no one else gets to touch them.
Devaki's been gone from the barracks for some days now. Whisked off to the infimary and never to be seen again, except -- here he is, being assisted though the entrance into the baths by one of the guards. His steps are uneven, shaky -- he looks pallid and sunken, far from his usual, confidant self. He's not looking anywhere but at his feet, concentrating on that -- it's fairly slow progress to the water's edge. Irritably, he shakes off the guard's assistance, then nearly topples over, a hand reached out to brace himself against the wall, breathing deeply.
One of the lower caverns ladies brought in Riorde and a handful of cohorts some time after Emmeline, but most of the others in that group have since gone. She's sunk in up to her chin, carving out her little patch of solitude and not even chatting quietly with Emmeline - alone and quiet, that is, until the latest group is brought in. Then, because she's too far away from the islander-harper to give her a nudge, she flicks a little water towards the other girl to draw her attention, still not saying anything.
Emmeline is startled not by the sound of someone else entering the water, or shuffling feet. But, water flicked on her face by Riorde. "Hey." she mutters, eyes flutering open to cast a 'WTF' look at Riorde. But it does give her pause to pay attention to her surroundings. And, of course, she totally ignores Tom. Because it's him. But the other entrant gets a concerned gaze at least. "Need help?" If he's not going to accept any from the guards, he might from friends. And then, she flicks water back at the other island girl.
Most of the young people in Tom's group head off to one of the further pools, but Tom's already in the water - and anyway, everyone knows he takes great pleasure in bothering the people he likes to bother (or so popular opinion would have it, anyway). It's only once he's in the water up to his chin that various glances in Devaki's direction draw the tall young man's gaze. Dryly, "You look like one of those sea-monster things chewed you up and spit you back out again, old man."
With a hand braced against the wall still, Devaki slowly works at unbuttoning that shirt, fingers unused to the novelty of many buttons fumbling with them. "They did," he replies to Tom, with a grimace as he braces himself to slide into the water. "But I can still kick your butt, cousin," he says forcefully, which seems particularly doubtful, given the wince of discomfort he displays as he eases into the water.
There, Emmeline offered and Riorde is off the hook, freed from the need to speak. These days, she's more stubbornly withdrawn than ever. Still, she watches first the progress of Tom and his pants, then Devaki the infirm. "Still alive," she observes, wry and rather bitter when she finally speaks up.
"Nice, Tom." Teacherly diapproval evident in Emmeline's voice, even if she doesn't look his way. And instead, when her offer of help goes unremarked, just closes her eyes and leans her head back again. "Still alive." she agrees, keeping her voice quiet. As if speaking up any will echo against the walls or something. "I was so sorry to hear about Kiami, Dev. If there's something I can do for you or Evali just let me know." Reaching over then, to uncap on eof the seetsand jars she wafts some of the scent there Riorde's way. "Someone called this a sandalwood scent. It's really relaxing. Should try it."
"I'd encourage you to come over here and prove it," says Tom, ignoring Emmeline and Riorde for now in favour of Devaki - it's all in the Blood, of course. "But I'm afraid you'd drown in the process." He's not quite talking over Emmeline, but since his words come just after hers, and /hers/ are about such a serious topic... he does falter at the end though, biting at his lip in what is probably recollection. More generally, he adds, "This rate, none of us'll be left to be sent back."
Only now does Devaki take note of Emmeline and Riorde, with a thin line of a smile, somewhat forced, particularly as he catches Riorde's comment. Emmeline's words earn a tightening of expression and a slight tip of head as the only acknowledgement. Condolences have been coming and been given too frequently of late to elicit more than that. Another wince, and he manages to sink into the water to his neck. Tomaeran's challenge only elicits a snort, but given Devaki doesn't rise to the challenge, it seems silent concession. His gaze drifts around the baths, noting their grouping -- all exiles -- and where the guards are. "Something you can do?" he finally says. "/Yes/." There's an edge to his voice, though he keeps it low enough. "Learn about them. Their customs. Their habits. Who rules them. And don't," his lips thin, "Trust them. With anything. That's what you can do, for Kiami. For those we've lost. We're owed Blood, now." The last has a hint of un-Devaki-like viciousness to it, as his gaze strays to Tomaeran, a nod of acknowledgement for his cousin's words. "And none left to trouble them."
Obligingly, Riorde drifts a little closer through the water and gives Emmeline's jar a glance and then a sniff. "It smells like..." She pauses. "I don't know what it smells like." She doesn't dip her fingers into the jar, instead retreating back to her former position. It's Devaki that has her attention more than the sweetsand, Riorde watching with a fixed, unreadable stare. The hardness in her might pass as agreement and her silence consensus, except that at the last she drags herself forward and up a few inches to intone, "Only your Blood?" Tensions and undercurrents on their exile island run too deep for her not to catch the allusion in the word, its silent capitalisation.
Letting go of a long sigh, Emme drops herself under the water once there's a bit of a silence. And then after a few seconds, re-emerges. It takes her a good moment or two before she acknowledges what it is Devaki thinks he's asking. "I remember speaking to K'del back on the Island, before they took us here. He mentioned to someone that there were no records of us at all. Nothing to prove our story. So I've spent my time making sure I know Maylin's records backwards and forwards. And then, I'll look through their records for clues." Her tension is palpable there, for a moment, letting Riorde's words sink in. And if her voice is rough when she talks again, it's probably just the humidity. "Can we not do that? On the Island it was bad enough. But there's too many people dead to divide ourselves like that now. And if anyone here thinks I haven't -already- been learning everyting I can about the people here, to see what I can find to help ALL of us, I don't even know what to say. I only have so much time in the day. I didn't even have enough for my own father."
Don't mind Tom if his eyes roll /intently/ at all Emmeline has to say. "Doubt they'd even let you anywhere near their records," he taunts the harper. "You're nothing to them. We're all nothing. We're going to prove otherwise, but that doesn't mean they intend to listen to us /now/." The young man straightens himself in the water: he and the other three are in one of the pools, alone, and talking intently. "I heard they want to send us all back to harper classes. That might help." That last is to Devaki, more thoughtful, more reasoned.
"No." Devaki is quick to answer Riorde, his gaze settling on her for a moment, "Not just mine. Every islander's blood." He allows the capitalization to fade away, to include all of them, as he shakes his head in response to Emmeline. "This transcends any divisions on the island. We need to stick together, now more than ever." He's looking at Tomaeran, mostly, as he says it, probably because he thinks his cousin is the one who'll require the most convincing. He nods, thoughtful all of a sudden, at Tom's words. "Yes," he agrees. "That will -- help. We must learn everything we can. This is what will help us -- later. Not yet."
"Fuck you, Tom. I'm all you've /got/ when it comes to proving that our ancestors were taken without a fair trial. If it wasn't for my records, you'd be even more fucked then you are now. Just remember that when you're feeling all smug and superior just because of your breeding." Emmeline sneers back at him, her peaceful mood so rapidly devolving she may as well just try and drown the man. "Don't worry, Devaki. I don't intend to let my personal dislike of some people get in the way of doing what I've promised I would do." And she stares at Tom, again. "I suggest for now, we let them think we trust them. That's the only way we're going to actually learn anything useful."
Riorde, mutinously, "He said it." But she subsides, and supposing that's the end goal, all is well between her and the others. She's silent even when Emmeline more or less explodes, watching reaction and counter-reaction without intervening.
There's a woman's voice by the door, "Oh Cori, I don't know..." And a little laugh from another woman in playful teasing,"You aren't worried I might 'peak' are you?" Two women can be seen now as the tall blonde leads a little dark haired crafter deeper into the rooms, "You have nothing to be ashamed of though, you're lovely." Cori is about to go in for the kiss when the voices make the other woman's head whip in that direction, spoiling the moment. "I don't think this is a good time. Later? I'll check with Zev and see when you're both free for the fittings." And like a shot from a gun, she is gone. "Well, alright, I will catch up with you later." Missing the conversations in the baths as the bluerider peers back the way she came, very amused.
Tomaeran scowls, turning his handsome face into a mask of inbridled contempt, mostly aimed at Emmeline. Something about Devaki's manner stops him from saying too much, more, though; he turns his voice to a drawl. "Ah, the little harper girl. Thinks she knows everything. I'm sticking together, cousin, don't think I'm not. But I think we need to be /realistic/ here. I think I'm too old to go back into harper classes, but I suppose I - and the rest of us here - will do what we have to." His glance back at his trousers - just making sure they're still there - has him catch sight of Cori out of the corner of one eye. His expression turns wary.
Devaki, like Riorde, watches Emmeline, silent. Unusually, too, for him: his face is notably drawn, pallid with recent sickness. He ducks his head under the water, wets his hair and gives it a vague sort of scrub. After Tomaeran speaks, he nods to his cousin, something flickering in his eyes, like a surprised sort of respect. All he says, finally, is: "An argument takes two sides. There's a lot of history, I don't deny that, but," he exhales, "We have to ignore old hurts. Old wounds. Old animosities. We've got too many new ones, now." He runs his hand through his hair again, in a vague attempt at scrubbing, and falls silent as his gaze, too, is drawn towards the new arrival, his expression equally cautious.
Having been the first there, it makes sense that Emmeline would be the first to go as well. So without another word to any of them, she takes her leave by wrapping a towel around herself as she pulls out of the water. And with averted face, revealing only the stony set to her expression, picks up her things and walks out with an escort following her. She'll drip water all the way back to the barracks at this point for all that she cares.
"I'm roasting." Abruptly, Riorde tires of this conference with its snapping and snarling. She makes for the edge and hauls herself out of the water, dripping all over the stone. There's no self-consciousness about her, too accustomed to her fellow islanders. Besides, who'd want her thin as she is, now that they all know what properly nourished women look like? She picks up a towel and wraps it round her; clothes come after.
Warucori is all smiles as she decides on sticking to her original plan. Voices in the baths are usual so she picks her way through the steam and it's not until the exile Emmeline brushes past her that she looks curious as to what's going on. "Hello." SHe greets them once she's closer, setting her bathing basket down and working on her leathers.
Emmeline's abrupt departure followed so quickly by Riorde's step out of the water has Tomeran blinking back at them, slightly owlish, though combined with that smirk it's less effective. "I'd rather fight /them/ than--" he begins, just barely above a whisper - besides, Warucori's coming closer. He gives /her/ a wary glance. Then, quietly, "Hello."
Devaki's gaze trails after Emmeline with a furrow of brow, though even if he were inclined to, she's gone too quickly for him to attempt to stop her. When Riorde, too, rises, his gaze settles on her, now, rising a bit out of the water, though he teeters and has to brace his hand against the edge of the pool to do so. "I'm not taking sides. I can't-- /we/ can't afford to. There's too few of us. You get that, right, Ri?" He glances back, at Tomaeran's whisper, a hint of something agreeable in the blond's expression, though he too, focuses on the bluerider to greet her with a neutral, "Hello," as well.
Riorde snags her shirt and pulls it over her head before she turns back towards the men in the pool. Glancing back, she hesitates but gives Devaki a short, clipped nod. "I get it." With a trace of her old mischief, the dark-haired girl's gaze slides over towards Tomaeran - she caught his comment - and as she walks towards the exit, after giving Warucori a brief, agreeable nod, Riorde reaches out and filches Tom's nice, new pants - and runs for it.
"Hello." She smiles back to Tomeran as she strips down to the skin. Leathers are put out of water range and she draws the towel and a few other bath-goodies closer to the edge of the pool before settling down on the edge and then into the water. "Nice to see more of your faces around." There's amusement for all the wariness, or perhaps it's for the few out of context comments she's overhearing now that she's close enough. She's about to say something more, lifting a hand to wave goodbye to Riorde but the pants-theft makes her laugh instead.
Tomaeran is too busy considering Warucori with an appraising eye to actually notice Riorde's larcenous endeavours (which is a good thing: the weyr probably doesn't need a naked Tom chasing her through the corridors). "We're always around," he says to the bluerider, with a glance back at Devaki; he's got a thin kind of smile in place, now. "We're just not always let out."
Devaki probably notes Riorde's little larcenous act, but, in the interests of preserving amicably (and sparing the Weyr Tomaeran-vision), he pointedly ducks under the water to cover any sort of response. Surfacing again, he hooks an arm over the edge of the pool, more to prevent himself slipping deeper and drowning than anything. "I'm sorry," he says, blandly, "We've been busy dying. Or being locked up." He can't quite keep the antagonism from his voice, entirely, and notes it with a grimace.
Warucori puts a hand to her mouth, coughing gingerly into it as it appears Tomaeran didn't notice and perhaps he doesn't mind being naked in public. Nice. She offers him a wink for his appraising, she's well fed for certain and what'cha-think-huh? "I am just glad to see you getting more freedom and you're looking well." Not hearing much coughing right? There's a sad nod about the dying, so much for being all steamy and sultry, "So I've heard. I'm awfully sorry to hear it."
That wink turns Tom's gaze bland and unreadable. "Now that you're feeding us food that agrees with our stomachs better, I'm sure we're all looking better. My cousin here still looks like a se-- something chewed him up and spit him out again, but I'm sure he'll get better." He sinks back into the water, letting him cover him to the neck, his blonde hair limp and dank about his face. "I'm sure you'd see more of us if we weren't locked up so much. If you /let us go/. We'd be no trouble."
There's something in Devaki's gaze as he stares at Warucori. Not necessarily in an interested way, but more like she's done something surprising and intriguing all of a sudden. Somehow, amazingly, he manages to hold his tongue at Tomaeran's comment towards him, though he can't quite prevent the roll of eyes ceiling-wards. It'd be hard to deny his current state, after all, looking as he does. "I could use more exercise," he tacks on, ignoring the fact that walking at all has him exhausted at the moment.
Warucori puts a hand to her throat, since her chest is now under the water, "-I- let you go?" A pause as she assures them, "-I- don't have any say in such matters." She can't help but look amused. The weyr give /her/ power? It'd be a hot day between. Her head shakes, giggling at the thought, "No, I think you would have been worse off if you would have not been contained when you became sick. Imagine how many more may have gotten ill otherwise." Smoothing damp hands through her hair she eases deeper into the water and then rises up again, "I'm Warucori by the way--what are your names?" Turning now to peer at them ever so curiously. "Exercise huh?" Asking Devaki, "Do the -escorts- go with you outside?" Not calling them guards today.
"You could talk to people who /could/," suggests Tom, suddenly all dimples. "Tell that that we're really very trustworthy, and that we want, very much, to-- rejoin society." He can turn on the charm when he wants to, though the impact is slightly spoiled by his added, "Our /guards/ take us for short walks sometimes, when they feel like it. It's not enough. We're used to being outside. Being contained is not right. We have rights, surely." Also? "And my great-grandfather was a Lord."
"The guards," Devaki seems set on calling a spade a spade, "Go everywhere with us." Indeed, the bluerider would've passed several loitering around outside the baths, waiting for the islanders to finish. He nods towards Tomaeran, then the gesture ceases as he watches his cousin turn on the charm. Somehow -- it involves another dunking under water -- he manages not to comment. The final remark earns the slightest of winces, though he's gazing at Warucori to judge her reaction. "Devaki," he offers his name, finally. "And my cousin is Tomaeran."
"Oh please." Warucori breaths, looking at Tomaeran, but she can't helpt but follow with an, "Aawww, you're cute." She does listen and ponder his words but in the end it's just a shake of her head, "I don't even know you to be able to vouch for you. Either of you, none of the others." And his bloodlines just makes her smile softly, "My grandfather was a farmer like my father." And it didn't land her growing up on an island, see. At last the names come out and she inclines her head to one and then the other, "Nice to meet you both. Surely the Weyrleader will be in to speak with you and you can apply your charms on him, or our Weyrwoman. NOt that I mind being charmed mind you." Damn them calling the escorts guards, her crinkled nose dislikes that, "Ask them to take you outside then." Turning to see who is on duty to guard the exiles in the pools.
'Cute' is probably not what Tomaeran would be liked to called, but he turns up the wattage on his smile nonetheless. He lays his head back on the edge of the pool, pointing one bare toe towards the water's surface. "They don't seem to like going out, much. They seem to think the weather is too cold, or too bad. /We/ have done nothing wrong. Why should we need guards to go where our legs can carry us?" He makes no remark on talking to the Weyrleader or Weyrwoman; this time, /his/ eyes roll.
Devaki has to bite his lower lip so that a snorted laugh doesn't escape him. Even so he can't help but to roll his eyes towards Tomaeran, leaning over to give his cousin an oh-so-pointed nudge. He's never going to let the man live /that/ down. Finally, reluctantly, he levers himself up out of the water, though this seems to take great effort, and he has to rest for a while on one of the rocks to catch his breath back. "They haven't come to see us. They probably don't want to get sick, as well," he finally notes, somewhat blandly. "If not them, who /should/ we talk to?"
Thanks to her lifemate, she's not much of a sit-back-and-watch, type of lady. The toe poking out above the water is given a little tweak as she reaches out for it and offers Tomaeran a meaningful smile. "I am certain the leadership feels that having you all together in one place will keep more order until you and your families understand what our world is like. We can't be forever tracking down lost newcomers or frantic mothers who fear dragons are kidnapping their children." The very idea makes her blanch. "Where have you been disallowed to go that you wanted to go?" And for who they should talk to? It makes her nibble her lower lip, going to see the weyrleader? Her? Geez, that's scary stuff, way over her head. "I guess...I don't know...Maybe if I understood more what you felt you wanted to see and do...I thought you all wanted to go back."
Tomaeran's brows raise, his eyes open wide: 'what?' asks his glance back at Devaki as the other exile nudges him. Innocence - if somewhat spoiled by the twist of his mouth. If he intended to say anything to his cousin, he's forestalled by the tweak of his toe, which his him rather rapidly turn his gaze back to the bluerider, as the toe disappears again. "I want my freedom. That's why I left the island: I want freedom. I want to make a life for myself, make some choices, see /something/ of the world." His tone is eager, even excited. More float, however, is is, "Instead, I feel like I'm waiting around to die."
Devaki's expression grows somewhat darker throughout Warucori's justifications, though it's probably not visible since she's focused on Tomaeran. "I want to be free to go wherever I want to go," he adds, on the heels of Tomaeran's words. "That's all any of us want. The freedom to choose to return to the islands, or not, as we will. I don't think that's too much for any free-thinking person to ask for."
Warucori's smile is sad, but understanding too, "Where is this place of freedom? What will you do for marks? That is, how will you put food in your belly, or find someone to care for you in sickness? If we just open our doors and put you out to run away to...where would you go?" She is curious, not knowing before just how badly they wanted to be free. "I thought we had been very kind to you and yours. Food, clothes, medication all without you having to lift a hand for anything. Do you know what that sort of care requires of you--beyond your island where you're still the grandson of some great Lord?" Which she sounds as though she does not believe at all.
"I don't think either of us," says Tom, hurrying, and sounding offended, "claimed we wanted to belong to /nowhere/. We just want the freedom to choose." There's a beat, and then, "Do you? Think it's generous, really? Do you think we ought to be bowing and scraping for thanks because you threw us some scraps, some second-hand clothing? Our great rescuers?" He sounds increasingly disgusted.
"We managed with nothing else before. We are not babes in the open. We probably know more about survival than you and yours could possibly comprehend." There's a stiffness to Devaki's posture as he pushes himself into an, admittedly shaky, standing position. "Do you know how to survive on an island with no food? What do when Thread falls and no one is there to protect you? How to survive when the rest of your family dies one by one, until you become immune to death? Do you know what it's like to slowly starve to death?" He takes a deep, if somewhat uneven breath. "Do you teach your young children by locking them up? Denying them the opportunity to be alone? Are they watched all hours of the day and night like criminals?"
Warucori lifts her shoulders up, "I /do/ think we have been generous." Her tone is hurt. that he doesn't feel they and she have not been. "Do I want your thanks or expect you to be thankful? I guess...I guess I thought it might cross your mind that food going to our children were going to yours and medication that we might need were going to help you. I don't think there should be bowing or scraping. " Through the hurt she is calm, but serious and troubled. "I flew to your island to help save people from the storm and I was refused and I was insulted and spit on. Fine, I understand your afraid, but I didn't have to do that and no, I don't want thanks and I don't care, but I want you to know it was done and people did go out of their way to help." She gives a little sniff, closing down now, "I think you just need to wait for the Weyrleaders to decide." Because she's certainly not swayed now. Turning to Devaki she says quietly, "If you were being treated like criminals, you would be in chains and fed mush and made to crush rocks day in and day out." Just as calm but there's anger under her tone as she adds, "I know what it's like to starve and to work the earth on your hands and knees from day dawn until sun set and happy for a tuber soup for dinner. So--perhaps you should not make judgements of -me-." The last a nasty little snap.
"Well!" says Tom, after a moment, turning his gaze between one person and the other. "If /this/ is generosity, then I think I want to try my luck elsewhere. /No/ man should be locked up and kept from the outdoors when he's done nothing but been unfortunate enough to be born on a lonely, isolated island. I," he rises from the water now, making his way towards the pool's edge, and the towels. "don't expect to be given everything with nothing in return. But I expect to be treated like a /person/." This whole speech would probably be more effective if it weren't for the quizzical - and increasingly horrified - question that comes at the end: "Where are my pants?"
Devaki's eyes narrow, his unsteady gait as much fuelled by anger as by lingering weakness as he strides over to collect his shirt. "Seems to me," he finally says, "That you and yours have prejudged us, first, by not giving us the choice to choose what we wish to do with our lives." He nods sharply in agreement with Tomaeran, and begins heading for the exit. Tomaeran's puzzled comment slows his path, though any stop to answer would ruin his appropriately dramatic exit, not to mention the fact that he's not sure how far he'll get on his feet. And so he exits, stage left.
Warucori spreads her arms and lays them along the back of the pool with an 'I don't give a shit' look on her face. Her mood has got to be bad because she doesn't even measure up a naked guy. Harsh. "You haven't given us anything. So, perhaps nothing for nothing I guess. I wonder. What do you think a person should be treated like? Because, you're being treated a fair lot better than a lot of people out there beyond your safe place." Let them chew on that some. Whatever fantasy they think is outside the barraks? Lies. Countering Devaki she assures, "You have been here all of ... a sevenday or two? Give our leadership time to figure out what to do."
"So we deserve to be caged like animals?" Despite the fact that Tom is genuinely upset by his missing pants - and is not hunting through other people's piles of clothing just in case - he can't stop himself from sneering a reply to the bluerider. "We haven't been given the opportunity to /do/ anything. Not even to work. How are we supposed to give anything back, when we have nothing to give?" He shakes his head, finally wrapping his towel around his waste and throwing his short on over the top. "You're a bunch of hypocrites. No one deserves to be locked up like that. /No one/."
"You're not caged like animals, we let you out." Warucori counters evenly. "We don't force you to work like a beast either. We try and struggle to make you well and fit." She's still angry, but at least she has her tone level again. "Like I said before, we can't be running off to rescue all of the lost people every time we turn our head." She lets out a breath, "I will bet you... a lot...that I tell you to go, without help, to the latrine from here and back to your dorm--you'd get lost." Because not so easy without someone guiding you all the way.
"With /guards/. An escort. To make sure we don't run away, or steal something. You don't trust us." Tom's past listening to reason, if he were ever there at all. "So you make all of your new people have a guard? To keep them from getting lost. Charming." The rest of the group he came in with are still in the water, but as Tom is clearly making moves to leave, one of the guards detaches himself to approach. Tom gives him a scathing look. "Now, you'll have to excuse me. My /jailer/ needs to put me back in my prison." It's funny how quickly those words have become part of the vernacular.
Warucori sits up in the pool, drawing herelf up all dripping and steamy as she eyes Tom make his departure, "When we have over a hundred strangers to the weyr at the same time who haven't been on the mainland their whole life and have no idea what dragons are? Yeah, we do." Because this is the first time it's happened in her lifetime, it's gotta be some written law. She doesn't smile though and doesn't look particuarly comfortable with the idea of all of those exiles roaming around free, particuarly given how angry these two have been.