LOG: Discovery!

[kasadel]

Date: Day 11, Month 12, Turn 25
Location: Beach, Western Island
Synopsis: Soylent treasure is... people?

( Discovery! Part 1 )

The pale underbelly of blue-chased slate flashes as Isforaith's bulk navigates downward, executing a sharp landing in Rielsath's golden wake, the roar of wings buffetting the air in backwinging glory a likely unfamiliar sound for those island-born. As curious as a child, the gawky blue is all eyes and headknobs for Rilka's wailing in particular, and he cranes his neck past Rielsath's shiny tail to whuffle in her direction with interest. Atop of the dragon, a big man, well-fed and muscled from labor unlike any the islanders have ever partaken of, removes his riding helmet to stare down at the mass of rag-tag people in the threadbare clothes with the gaunt look of those who have gone without. Z'yi isn't saying anything at this point, or even looking to the people -- he's unrolling the sheaf of maps again, and rechecking his calculations one more time, only pausing to stare over his shoulder at Taikrin as if she's to blame for all this.

Emmeline steps away just enough so she can reach for Evali's hand and give it a quick squeeze. "If your brother stops by here first before he goes to the caves, ask him to bring -everythng- important. He'll know what I meant." she murmurs, quickly, unable to tear her eyes from the sight of the ginormous dragons. And their riders.

"We have to get back," Devaki says, eyes fixed on dragons that land on the beach. He doesn't let go of Riorde either, his fingers still wrapped around her forearm. Not because he's scared. No, really. Xoami is drawn back by the alarmed noises on the beach, and Riorde's call, and joins the pair. Staring.

Shimana's hand tightens on Rilka's shoulder, though there's not much of compassion in her face. "Thank you, Emme." Her voice is tight with worry, and there's a noticeable tremor in her thick frame. "We should-- Viremi." She breaks off and heads to join forces with the other elder. "... /why/?"

"Yes," Riorde agrees without moving, wide-eyed and unblinking. The girl looks stunned, suddenly younger than her age, and when Xoami joins them, she doesn't even glance his way.

Viremi keeps his hand on Evali's shoulder. "No," he says, roughly. "Devaki knows what to do. Stay. I need your help -- help me stand," he says, pushing at his stick for balance. Wrinkled expression is tight as he looks to Shimana. "Why /now/, is the question," he responds, gaze tracking the landing dragons, looking for the obvious leader as he attempts to stand straight.

Phedre looks as if /she/ is about to rush off with the children herself. One foot steps back, then back again, fingers white-knuckled in the tight fists she's made around the cloth of her shawl.

Being whuffled at by Isforaith? It's the last straw, really: Rilka bursts into angry tears, shrugging off Shimana's hand and making a desperate and unhappy run for it. /She/ is definitely going to join the children (and probably tell them all about how they must hide from the dragonriders, because they are evil, and do not respect the island, and /we do not want them here/. Awesome).

The last to land is a hulking specimen of a brown, gap-toothed and a little mean looking. His landing is abrupt, the impact shaking the very ground upon which he lands and sending bits of sand and rock flying in all directions. "You /sure/ this ain't Benden?" the figure atop his back calls towards the blue's rider in a husky voice, then out to the populace at large. The accent is thick, almost to the point of unintelligibility for those unaccustomed. "Oi! This ain't Benden, is it?!" The figure's gender is indeterminate, especially with the short hair visible under the helmet and the enveloping riding jackets. Taikrin glances at Lujayn, then slides down the brown's side to come around beside one massive jaw. "Think we're kinda lost, yeah?"

Khorde pushes through the crowd, protesting and pushing and whining his way to eventually flank Evali, hovering again, his eyes roving over the trio of dragons as if they were stars fallen from heaven. Apparently he's taken a fancy to Rielsath-- "He's so /big/." Obviously the gold must be male, since it's the largest of the bunch.

The knife is remembered and afforded a thoughtful glance before it is stowed away in its makeshift sheath, though the binding is not tied, so it is left loose and easy to grab. Xavior readjusts to fall in line with the wailing girl, hoping that a solid presence will act as the salve that his lips do not know how to give. Never once does his vivid eyes stray from the amazing sight before him, while through it all emotions are capped behind a composed mask. That is until Rilka makes like the wind, and then concern tilts the landscape of his features.

Rielsath arranges herself carefully on the rocky ledge, tail trailing down the cliffs just feet short of reaching waves. She crouches low to make room for the brown and blue, wings spreading in a pale wake of winter sun before folding along her neck. Lujayn is just as curious, though no maps busy her hands as she unbuckles her helmet and starts loosening straps. This is something new. Blonde hair flying loose from its long braid, her gray eyes wide, she takes in the sight. Then a rumble from the restless gold prompts her; she's sliding down a foreleg and stumbling onto rocky ground before you can say 'wherry teeth'. "No, this isn't Benden," It's clear they haven't come far, not yet fatigued from flight. "Hello," A dazed greeting to Khorde. What is there to say? There are /people/.

"Khorde, you twit. The golds are /Queens/. Females. Didn't you pay any attention?" Emmeline hisses, totally embarassed to have had him be the one to give a first impression of the group. Really. Well, there is Rilka. And so she glances nervously over at the girl, and then at the elders, and then back at the riders. "We.... hello." Awkwaaaard!

"I'll stay," Evali says softly, and offers her arm as aid to get her grandfather to his feet. "They'll talk to you, won't they?" she whispers to him, and then glances over at Khorde, giving him a hesitant, shy smile. And then she whispers, again, "Where's Benden?"

Khorde stares bug-eyed as the rider addresses him: then, just to show that he's totally a match made in heaven for Rilka, he faints dead away, landing with an unelegant crash of flesh against the sand. 1: He's never going to live this down. 2: Did he really faint, or did Lujayn just use her dragonrider psychic POWER to kill him with a single WORD?

Devaki exhales sharply, then finally shakes himself from his frozen state. "We have to -- go. Come on, Ri, Xo." It's easier said than done. A step, and then he tugs at his companions to join him. Much easier to face /dragons/ in a group.

Shimana makes a start foward after Devaki, but she falters after only a single step. "Yes-- Devaki should. You're right. Emmeline-- " She glances over her shoulder or the other girl. "You should... help him. You're our harper." That last is added a bit louder, pitched to carry towards the riders.

Riorde has lost all of her rough grace, moving woodenly as Devaki pulls her forward. There's no way she's letting go of him; the knuckles on her hand are white. It hasn't occurred to her to be afraid, though. Instead, the shock of the sight before her makes both her face and motion stiff.

Tomaeran probably passes Rilka on his way down; he's with a group of people who were up at the Settlement, which, being higher, gave just as good a view of the arriving dragons. There is, without question, just as much mayhem going on up there. Tom leads the group, smart-stepping with an expression of absolute intensity, though even he misses a step (and then a second), at the sight of those dragons - enormous as they are. For once, not even he has any words: he /stares/.

Isforaith removes his head with an injured look, since he made the wailing girl run off and cry. His headknobs shake and he snorts, a powerful sound given the surroundings. Z'yi declares again, with a certain absolute certaintiy to his deep basso voice, "This is not Benden. We're approximately fifty klicks from the western shores of High Reaches Hold." Only then does he upend the flask -- he needs it -- and caps it off only to toss it towards Taikrin. Unbuckling, he slides off his lifemate to land on the ground, coming forwards to flank Lujayn for a passive moment in a neutral stance that nonetheless points out that: yes, he is bigger than you. And by you, he means... everyone who isn't a dragon. "Who leads you people?" he calls, stepping to stand abreast of the goldrider, staring out as if trying to figure out who they should be addresing.

Viremi, half leaning on Evali, grateful for his grand-daughter's assistance, shuffles forward. He looks, to make sure Shimana is with him, too. His gaze strays over the arrivals, noting their knots and patches, and with a frown, says, "High Reaches," to Shimana. As if this has some significance. His gaze lights from one to the next, before settling on Lujayn. "I am Viremi, son of Dinami, of River Bend Hold. To whom do we speak?"

Emmeline can do little else but sort of nod dumbly at Shimana for a moment, and then try to gather her wits and step up just behind Viremi. She'll keep quiet for now, until addressed or asked a question; but, her hand it seems is ready to help keep the elder up and steady if it's needed.

Phedre is content to watch, wide-eyed and childish, blending into the crowd as the events unfold before her. Even her father has moved away from the catch to hover with the crowd, curious.

Rising with a rumble that's more curious than warning, Rielsath peers at Khorde with eyes that whirl from blue to a worried yellow-green. Lujayn steadies one palm on the queen's pale-speckled paw, shaking her head. "You didn't do anything, Ri." And neither does she, ears perking up at the word 'harper.' "And your harper?" She adds to Z'yi's request, the word one ray of hope in this confusion. "We're from High Reaches Weyr," Introductions seem to be in order. "I'm Lujayn. This is Rielsath." Both hands on the dragon's soft hide now, steadying herself as much as the restless gold. "What is the name of this place?"

Reflex has Taikrin catching the flask, though she scowls fiercly upon noticing that it's empty. She rests a hand on Szadath's jaw as the brown lowers his head to peer curiously at Devaki and Riorde and crew. "Bloody flaming shells," she spits out in irritation. "This ain't what we're supposed to do." A foot scuffs against the ground, but otherwise she seems content to let the other two do the talking; she'll just stand there and glare and otherwise be incredibly intimidating-looking. The brown rumbles, snaking his head forward ever-so-slowly to get a better inspection of the group.

There are things, important things, that Devaki should be doing. But, quite frankly, dragons top anything right now. He keeps his grip on Riorde, though it's hard to tell if he's keeping her up, or she him, as they approach the group of exiles gathered on one side. He's torn between marvelling with open mouth at the dragons, and trying to hear the conversation at the front of the beach.

It's mostly by chance that Tom ends up standing not far from Phedre when, after a few long seconds of incredulous staring, he ends up moving closer. "Where did they come form?" he wants to know, hissing more than speaking as she glances in her direction. "What's going on?" He shooks another glance back at the dragons, and at Khorde-- his usual sneer is notably missing. Dragons, apparently, trump everything.

Knowing his place, Xavior falls in behind the speakers, remaining a mute presence as he watches on. It is near to impossible not to allow his gaze to stray now and again to the great beasts before him, soaking in the details from nobs to tail, only to jump back to the elders and the riders as they converse.

Kiyora is drawn silently towards her peers, Shimana and Viremi, though she has little to say. The woman watches silently with a neutral, vaguely questioning expression.

Emmeline tries to do the mental acrobatics necessary to shuffle through her memories of written notes and storied passed on until she can recall what might be a proper greeting. "Our... duties to High Reaches." and then tips her head towards Rielsath as she makes her presence known. "I'm the one here with harper training. My name is Emmeline." Her tone is clear, free of nerves. Though her hands are twisted together in front of her so tightly that her knuckles are turning white. She has none of her friends up here with her, so that's the closest she can get to venting her nervousness amidst the litany of 'don't screw up, don't screw up' in her head.

Evali stands, her shoulders used as Viremi's aid, proudly in front of her grandfather. She flashes confidence smiles at Emmeline's head, just hoping that somehow the harper will be able to /sense/ encouragement. Rather like how Lujayn's psychic powers knocked out Khorde, it might even work.

Riorde stumbles once or twice, not paying the least attention to her footing as she and Devaki and Xoami rejoin the rest of the gathered crowd. And the dragons. The dragons - Riorde looks and looks and looks. She breaks her silence to hiss at Devaki, "Come on." It doesn't seem to cross her mind that she shouldn't be right in the thick of things, unBlooded as she is and without particular qualities to set her apart from the rest of the gawking islanders.

"Lujayn?" Viremi echoes the woman's name, though his eyes flicker to the other two riders, then back. "This place? It has no name. It is simply our home. The island." His shoulders shrug, his gnarled grip on the stick tightening marginally, though he makes an effort to relax the lean on Evali's shoulder. There's a slight tip of his head to acknowledge Kiyora as she joins them, and he straightens. Three riders, three elders. This seems fair to him, and so he continues, "Have we been vindicated, then? You are here to return us to our homes," he says, as if this is a given.

"From the sky," Phedre manages to choke out, clearing her throat at the way the words come out shakier than she intended. "Then they just landed, and now they're all," she motions to the elders and dragon riders, "talking. I can't hear very well," given how she's all nestled in the crowd and all. Wide, dark eyes shoot Tom an apprehensive look. A touch of wry humor does color her words, "Right out the sky, like sea monsters. Only not of the sea." Sky monsters!

Z'yi tilts his head at Viremi's words, focusing upon the old man with dark eyes that go puzzled at his words. "Viremi," he pronounces the man's name carefully, "This is obviously not River Bend." There is a question unasked, and he offers a very shortened martial salute to the man. "Z'yi of blue Isforaith," he introduces himself with a gesture to each -- "Taikrin and Szadath," with a special gesture to the one glowering in the background. The big man's eyes land on Emmeline with thought as the girl advances to the forefront of the crowd. "Well-met, Emmeline," he returns, shifting a glance over to Lujayn as Viremi states that last -- his look is a warning in of itself, before he takes a step to the side, squinting at the boy laying passed out. "Is he okay?" Well, someone has to ask.

Shimana pushes forward after Viremi, her voice a tad shrill as she retorts to Z'yi, "By the sea, what did you do to him?!" She moves forward to crouch at Khorde's side, her spine straight with fear as she reassures herself of his pulse.

Khorde is a brat, and thus certainly not dead, given how happy that would make SOME people... He even wheezes a breath in an unarticulate word when Shimana uses her island magic on him. Or maybe it was just the fact that her voice is really, really high pitched.

Devaki seems about as reluctant to move forward as Riorde seems determined; but since still has a death-grip on the girl she basically wins by default, the mindhealer letting himself be tugged along, Xoami behind him. "Did they say High Reaches?" he whispers, startled.

Tom's expression narrows further, if that can even be possible; he rises up on his heels to get a better look, though at his height, he really shouldn't need to. "Those things are /huge/," he murmurs back to Phedre, probably intended in part as confirmation for what she's said. "Sea monsters, that's for sure. Do you think they're here to rescue us? Take us home?" Beat. "Do you think Khorde's dead?" All important questions, really. The young man tucks his hands into threadbare pockets, and adds, "I saw Rilka as I came down. She was screaming her head off."

"I - I think so." Riorde speaks as if she's unaccustomed to it, voice catching in her throat. Reaching the islanders who hang farthest back, she aims to skirt round rather than through. Once closer, her pace slows, no longer quite so confident about forging ahead to face the beasts and their riders. Mostly, she just wanted a good look.

"Well-met," Lujayn echoes and moves away from Rielsath's forearm, followed silently by the gold's snaking neck as she approaches what appears to be the oldest of the isle's people. At least the ones that are present. "But this is your home," She ventures, testing the waters. "We have no knowledge of anyone living on these islands.. had no knowledge." The woman takes a deep breath and scans the beach, beginning to realize the discovery and what it might mean. As others see to Khorde she catches muttered words from the group - 'rescue' and 'home' among them. Something stirs in her. "You're here against your will?" Rielsath's head rises, inspecting a few individuals from afar with delicate curiosity, turning her snout, wings shifting. It's her turn to wait after all that flying.

There's a muttering running throughout the crowd of exiles on the beach. Whispered repeats of 'High Reaches'. This seems to spark a change in mood -- there's still a sense of fear and uncertainty, but something else now, too. A low, buzzing unhappy mutter.

In contrast, Phedre's too short to really see much BUT dragons over the tops of the other people's heads. "If Khorde's dead, it's his own sorry fault, I bet," she retorts without thought, almost the spark of normal. "They are huge. Bigger than... well... anything," she adds, shooting a glance upwards to Tom. As to the rest of it, the girl shrugs her shoulders, shifting her weight uneasily, "I don't know. Rescue is a dangerous word. What seems like rescue could easily lead to a bondage of a different kind." She nibbles gently on her lower lip.

With what seems at first to be a bit of a stalemate, Emme pipes up again. "Z'yi." she repeats, placing the name to a face and then nodding as well to both of the others. "About 80 turns ago, our ancestors were taken here against their will to be held in exile." she explains, glancing over at the elders when she reveals that much. "I... I have all of the information about what happened. But it's being kept safely somewhere for now. I can only explain what I remember from what I've been able to read. But, .." Of course, Viremi may have a much clearer account.

Dragon> To Szadath and Rielsath, Isforaith fills in Rielsath's starlight with an ocean of ale. They'll need it, he thinks, when they get home.. << Guess so. >> Soft. << Wonder why they're all out /here/. >> His snort is mental as well as physical: << It isn't right. >>

Dragon> To Iskiveth, Szadath is unusually subdued, and the vision he opens with - a deserted island, except it's /not/ deserted since there's a crowd of frightened people - is weird even for him. << We didn't find treasure. >> There's none of the enthusiasm he'd been sharing with Iskiveth about the prospect of riches. << Just these weird people. Taikrin wants to know what we should do. >>

Evali is watching Emme, and even more she's watching Viremi, for all that takes looking upside down and backward to be able to look properly at him. She's nearly still despite that, and silent; wind blowing through her hair is moving more than she is.

"Genuine sea-monsters," murmurs Tom, and with this, there's a hint of amusement amidst the consternation. "I always told Kima there were sea-monsters." He sucks in a deep breath, straining to hear more of the conversation between the dragonriders and the elders, though it's difficult. Shaking his head, he tells Phedre, "I don't believe that. If they rescue us, we'll have the whole world at our fingertips. With creatures like they have-- we could get anywhere. Can you imagine it?" He gives the dragons (and in particular, the gold: it being the shiniest, biggest one) a covetous glance.

Arms knit together a Xavior relaxes further as the conversation progresses. When Riorde and her tag along arrive nearby, he works a welcoming smile into place. "Interesting, huh?" An ear is consistently kept bent to the elders and riders while he aims to interact with the others. "I knew it was a special day," though the jury is still out whether it is a good special, or a bad.

Kiyora hangs back as silently as the woman by the brown dragon, though not so sullenly. "It is our home. Or has been." She replies to Lujayn, "I am Kiyora." She stands behind Viremi, lending her voice but little of her presence.

Shimana careful tugs Khorde backwards, pulling to boy's head into her lap to keep him safe and secure. "High Reaches, eh. Monsters, more like." She's mostly muttering to herself, but the looks she's giving the riders are downright baleful.

It's a good thing that Evali's there, supporting Viremi. The elder teeters slightly, growing more pale, if possible. His gaze follows Shimana towards the fallen boy, though quickly returns to the riders. It's fair to say that his reaction is deflated, fingers tightening around his stick. "You must have knowledge, Lujayn of High Reaches," his gaze is fixed upon Lujan, though his voice includes the other riders. "You and yours brought us here, eighty Turns ago." He acknowledges Emmeline's words with a tip of his head, then continues, "Be that as it may, now that you are here -- you will rectify this wrongdoing." There's a lilt at the end that might make it seem like a question, though the way the elder's gaze flickers from one rider to the next makes it more the statement of a man used to people doing what he asks.

Isforaith's sudden snort after Lujayn's words seems to have the same affect on Isz as the goldrider speaking them: a flash of resignation, as he knows where this is going without even having to ask. Mute, his eyes track over his shoulder to Taikrin again, then back to the fore. He has heard the word 'rescue', and frankly addresses Emmeline. "Are you requesting our aid, then, Harper? Are you trying to say that you were not rightfully condemned here in a hearing according Charter law?" His voice is resigned, but resolute.

Dragon> Suddenly sour that she's not there /with/ Szadath, Iskiveth takes a few moments longer to answer than she usually might otherwise. Probably arguing some point with her immovable rider. << Who are they? What are they doing /there?/ >> And why is there no treasure? (Iskiveth to Szadath)

"Is that how it works?" One dark eyebrow arches at Tom's words, Phedre's head tilted enough to the side to glance up at him. "They just give the sea monsters away on places outside the island?" Still a gleam sparks in the depths of a dark gaze, the possibilities beginning to swarm. "To go anywhere, anytime, and do anything other than this provincial life?" Her tone suggests that she quite possibly would do anything.

Devaki's gaze is torn between watching the elders, and watching the dragons -- the latter with the wariness born of unfamilarity. His gaze falls on his grandfather, straining forward a moment as he sees the old man teeter, but rocking back into place as he spots Evali by his side. With an exhale, he releases his fingers from Riorde's arm. "I have to--" he takes a step back, glancing over his shoulder.

Thinkthinkthink. When has anyone of her family line had to use this knowledge? Good thing Emme is one nosy bitch, otherwise she'd have no idea what Z'yi just said. But his words snap what she needs right into place and she gives the rider and equally resolute gaze in return. "Yes, that's right. I am requesting your aid. We were wrongly condemned here, with no hearing according to Charter law. We were swept away in a silent raid, carried our by dragons and riders, and left here to live or die as the sea would have it." she remarks, keeping her tone firm but quiet so as not to carry too far.

Dragon> To Rielsath and Szadath, Isforaith is impulsive when it comes to someone being mistreated, and it is displayed in the manner of which he speaks: icy cold against the fire of his mindscape. << We will take them away from this place. We will take them home! >> Totally the best way to rectify the situation, right? Right? Mom's rider won't mind the extra mouths to feed! Really.

Evali had been about to whisper 'just repeat what he said!' to Emmeline, but she completely caught it all on her own. So Evali watches the exchange in awe, the only one in the group with no authority to speak -- Blooded, yes, but she has no training, no authority. Not an elder, not a harper. But she is an elder's granddaughter, she is Devaki's sister, she is doing an excellent job of holding Viremi up -- and she would have been afraid to speak anyway. And so, she stands.

"Interesting," Riorde repeats in an absent manner, seeming to hardly hear herself. Something of what one of the riders says reaches her, and she flares towards anger. "/I/ wasn't condemned," she calls out, a voice amidst the crowd. When Devaki lets go of her, she tears her eyes away from the sight in front of her, long enough to send him an irrationally accusing look. How dare he abandon her.

Taikrin doesn't know anything about law or diplomacy or exiles - nor does she care to. Dark eyes roll, and she scrubs a hand through her short hair. "Against their will? Like, kidnapped? Faranth help me." She pushes away from Szadath, clouting the brown affectionately on the jaw, and comes up to Z'yi's side. "The shells you telling them with this Charter crap? Take 'em away?" She eyes Emmeline up and down, still frowning. "You all're criminals? Convicts, like?" There, finally, is a spark of interest. "Whachoo do?" Szadath rears up onto his haunches, letting out a querying rumble.

Tomaeran knows nothing of these things, but he does a pretty good job of making it sound like he does. "Yes," he tells Phedre, earnestly. "I imagine they're there for the taking, really. And look at how well fed they are-- and their /clothes/. They live a good life. I don't think anything else matters: I'd go with them right now and not look back." Beat. "You'd have to have a /lot/ of food, to feed a thing like that. I wonder how they manage catching all that fish."

Dragon> To Rielsath and Isforaith, Szadath hesitates, uncertain if he wants to get involved in all this mess. << But they don't have anything worth having. No treasure. This isn't what we were doing. >> It's not The Mission, after all. Still... << I'm asking Iskiveth what to do. >> The other queen is, after all, the brains of this outfit.

"Stay calm!" Devaki has the presence of mind to hiss towards Riorde, then at her look, says only: "I'll be back." No time to explain. Not now. Instead he pelts off up the beach, kicking pebbles in his haste, headed in the direction of the caves after the younger children.

"No we're not criminals." Now Emme's voice takes on a sharp turn. "Whatever our ancestors did, whether criminal or not... which I would like to remind everyone was never decided in a fair hearing... we should not be responsible for." Which lends itself to what Riorde called out, and the harper risks a glance in that direction.

Dragon> << Taikrin says they might be criminals. And Z'yi wants to bring them /home/. With us. Because they were here for a long, long time. What do we do? >> Szadath is all-too-willing to abdicate authority for these decisions to Iskiveth - she is, after all, the brains of the outfit. << Rielsath thinks we should bring them, too. But... why? >> (Szadath to Iskiveth)

Z'yi looks down, down, down at the slight whisp of a girl that is Emmeline, and frowns just a bit, creases drawn over his furrowed brow. "We can't leave them here if what they say is true," he states to Lujayn and Taikrin alike, his voice resigned. "We're Charter-bound to see the inquiry out, at the least." What? Mielline makes him do diplomacy homework. It's in the wing description. "Who of your people wishes to leave?" he questions Emmeline directly. "We will not remove anyone who does not wish to go," and his voice rises, "But if you are found in a Harper-sanctioned hearing to have lied to a dragonrider in pursuit of their duty, every last one of your people will return here." His voice is cold and hard at the last, in the case that these /are/ criminals, however unlikely the case.

Riorde goes mute after the open refutal she tossed into the air, her glare not lessening one bit as Devaki up and leaves. He must have a good reason, sure, but for the moment Riorde feels nothing except that she's been left alone. Consequentially, she crowds in close to Xoami.

Riorde earns a grin for her outburst and a quick shake of the head. "That's tellin' them." Xavior's head falls on a tilt as he continues to take it all in, passing it all through a processor that lines things up into three piles: good things, bad things, and possibly not-so-bad things. He's a glass half full sort.

Shimana, indignantly, echoes Emmeline. "We are no criminals! This is our home."

Phedre's eyes widen, even at the mere /idea/of all that food, but what she says verges on the ridiculous, with a teasing lilt to her tones, "I don't think they eat only fish. There's not enough fish in the sea for something /that/ big." Tomaeran might not know what he's talking about, but the girl's at least going with it, if not buying it. It's hard to tell. "You think they'd take us back to where they live? And feed us like Lords and Ladys? Or would we be drudges, made to work our fingers to the bone?" Pessimistic to Tomaeran's optimist, perhaps it's in response to the heated way Shimana and Emmeline seem to be talking with the dragonriders.

Dragon> To Cadejoth, Isforaith is impatient and /reaching/ for the one who is like himself in so many ways. Sire's link is found and grasped upon, fire and acrid smoke heralding whiskey's bite. << We have found /people/, >> and his voice is significant, excited, strident. << Mine says they are... >> faltering, seeking words, casting them out of his lifemate's mind. << ... invoking Charter, that they don't belong where they are. >> Indignant: << They say they were /kidnapped/! >>

It's hard to hear, but evidently not /that/ hard: Tom points a finger at Z'yi, telling Phedre, "I think that's what he just said. Did you hear? They're offering to take us back with them." That's when he raises his voice, evidently hoping to be heard: "I want to go. Take me. I want to leave this place. I'm a descendent of Lords, and I deserve my rightful place. And a sea-monster."

Viremi falls silent, focusing on the rider-harper with sharp gaze. With a slight frown, he raises a hand -- though not before he shoots a disapproving look in Riorde's direction. Then back to Z'yi. "We, the council," he clarifies, indicating his elder compatriots, "Will discuss with the exiles. They shall have their choice. But," his voice is just as sharp as his gaze, "We do not lie, dragonrider, and do not like the accusation. It is the truth that put us here, in the first place."

Emme is, of course, offended at the rising voice and implicit accusation to Z'yi's words. But, her temper stays only in the way her eyes flash angrily and her lips thin. When she speaks again it's calm. "And will those who wronged us be held accountable for /their/ actions, rider? You should not presume to make a statement like that unless you're prepared to make an equal one against those that left us here to die." she replies cooly, her chin giving a stubborn tilt when the words are out. Exasperation, however, is reserved for Tom. And that she has to tighten her fists against. Maybe he can be eaten by one of the sea-monsters instead of getting one.

Dragon> To Cadejoth, Rielsath ventures quickly, almost sharp with her flare of sunlight into the bronze's chains. << Have they told you? We found the treasure. Our people. >>

Dragon> A twang - a note turned sour - replies to Isforaith's call out; Cadejoth's thoughts, while ordered at the outset of communication, turn dramatically rumpled as his son's meaning becomes clear. Or... as clear as it /can/ be. Given all of this. It takes him a few moments to form his reply, most likely because it takes his /rider/ some time to process this information. << You're out at the islands? >> And; << K'del says you must on no account promise to take them away. Not until we know for sure. He /says/ we have no records, and we need to-- >> He breaks off; this is hard. << know, first. >> (Cadejoth to Isforaith)

Dragon> To Rielsath, Cadejoth's chances are jangled, his notes turned sour; it's pretty obvious from the agitation in his tone that he has, indeed, heard the news. << Not necessarily ours, >> he cautions, hurriedly, his rider's emotions seeping into his voice so clearly. << It needs to be proven, first. Do not bring them back. Do not-- K'del says it's /important/. >>

Dragon> To Isforaith and Szadath, Rielsath projects, << Take them home! >> Rielsath echoes, her mindvoice reaching to a physical bugle. << They /are/ treasure. We can make them treasure. >> No rags, no bones. She transforms their images in her gilded imagination, richly robed and smiles all. >>

Dragon> Again she's silent for several moments except for that crackling of burning wood somewhere in her consciousness. << Do they want to be brought? >> Not that she really seems to care so much about that answer. << It seems silly to leave them. Who are they helping out by themselves? They should be put to work somewhere useful. >> Like Reaches, obviously. Iskiveth rumbles through her mindvoice and seems markedly more irritated when she says, << Teris says that you should be asking Iovniath and Cadejoth. >> (Iskiveth to Szadath)

Dragon> To Rielsath and Szadath, Isforaith is distressed, but certain, and truth carries in the clarion notes of his voice: << Cadejoth says we aren't to bring any of them back with us. >> Reluctant, this. << We have to.. /know/, he says, first. >>

"Whatever. We can't-- there ain't enough of /us/ to take all of /them/. Lujayn--" Taikrin protests against Z'yi's vehemence, turning to the goldrider with a hint of apology. "Szadath's asking Iskiveth what to do. Don't think we should do /nothing/ without talking to the Weyrwoman." After a moment's hesitation, she tags on, "And the Weyrleader, I guess. It ain't gonna be on /my/ head." She scowls across the crowd, eyes narrowing at the agitated tenor that the murmurs have taken on, then returns to Szadath's side. "You don't accuse us! None of you! We can just pack right up and get out of here if that's how you want to play it!" Taikrin == champion of diplomatic relations.

Xavior's chest jumps with laughter as Tom calls out, carrying the threaded arms with it on the jaunty journey. Amusement brightens cerulean eyes to a gleaming state, while the shaggy hirsute is divided into mustache and beard by a wide smile that parts them. He's quick to glance towards the riders to glean their reactions.

"What I heard was a man's hard accusation," Phedre mutters in an undertone, having not heard Z'yi's words clearly, but tone carries well enough. When he raises his tone, Phedre almost reaches up for Tomaeran's arm to stop him, a frantic, wide-eyed look in her eye. She glances back at the dragonriders but holds her tongue, lips pressing to a line, arms folded tightly across her middle.

"No one's done any harm today. We don't know anything yet." Having listened for what feels like far too long for comfort, Lujayn clears her throat. "Perhaps," She begins placatingly, "This conversation would be better carried out inside." The air is cooling despite heated words, the long shadows growing longer. "We won't be forcing anyone anywhere, but on behalf of High Reaches-" An exasperated glance to Taikrin. "-this warrants our full attention."

This is why Z'yi does search and rescue and not diplomacy. He always makes people /mad/ at him. He scowls sharply at Viremi, and especially Tom, and even Emmeline. "None of you are coming with us /today/." He points at Taikrin as she says what he wants to. "Our boss said no." With that, he's leaving the whole shebang to Lujayn, and striding shortly back to his lifemate, shaking his head and muttering sourly under his breath about deranged sun-stroked islanders.

Dragon> Ever so reluctantly, Szadath broadens and combines his communication, the echoes of his mindvoice all the more profound with the breadth of his broadcast. << What do we do? Taikrin says they look like they want to fight. And that they are dirty. >> A pause. << And that they don't smell honest. I don't think they're worth the treasure we could find if we keep looking... unless they're /hiding/ it! >> (Szadath to Rielsath, Isforaith, Iskiveth, and Cadejoth)

Hard looks from the elders won't silence Riorde. She's only quiet because there's nothing more for her to say at the moment, looking between the riders and islanders to speak until finally Taikrin speaks what sounds like a denial. "You'd leave us?" She doesn't think to school her tone, and the words leaving her mouth sound anguished but somehow unsurprised.

Word travels fast that something is amiss. Really really amiss. Celadion comes out onto the beach with a small group of like-aged young men to gawk at the horror on the beach, and the strangers that the creatures carried with them. "You have got to be kidding me. Am I dreaming?" And "Someone pinch me." He gawks, from a safe distance and lays the stick he's weilding over one shoulder, just in case he might need some sort of protection, those monsters don't look very safe.

Emmeline scowls right back at Z'yi. Rar! She even gasps at the news that nobody is leaving with them today. "You can't /do/ that. You can't just... you at least have to bring u some supplies until this is resolved." Her spine is straight and stuff then, though she's quick to back off that routine when Lujayn speaks up. "Shimana, Viremi... do you want me there, or no?" For the talking, of course. Inside.

Tom scowls, clearly unimpressed with this turn of events; he glances back at Phedre again, and shakes his head. "They're useless. Whoever their leader is-- he's useless, too. We could do better. I can't believe they'd just /leave/ us here."

"Emmeline," Viremi's words are a warning, and the elder turns to survey the rest of the exiles, too, well aware of the muttered comments being voiced behind him. His gaze darkens at both Taikrin and Z'yi's words. Instead, he focuses on Lujayn as the most controlled of the riders. "We would offer you shade and food, rider, yet we have none to spare. We will take your promise of investigation, however," this, the elder accepts with a nod of his head, as if it is a done deal. "We too," his voice rises, "Must consider what this means for us. There will be no hasty decisions made on our part." He half turns, making his intended audience of that comment obvious, his gaze drifting across the people of the island. "Our salvation is at hand. Have patience. We have waited eighty Turns already."

Dragon> To Szadath, Rielsath, Isforaith, and Iskiveth, Cadejoth is repeating himself by now, and his agitation is ringing out more and more clearly: he jangles and shudders, discordant and unhappy. << They must stay where they are. We must... research, K'del says. If they intend to fight, you need to withdraw. >> His mesh envelops them all: they must stay safe. No outsiders, no matter what, must disturb that. << No treasure. This comes first. >>

Shimana clutches Khorde tightly, glaring up at the riders in clear mistrust. "We don't need your kind and your insults." She takes a deep breath, attempting to rein in her fear and anger. "You won't find us weak; we won't be taken advantage of again. This is our home."

Taking that as a cue that she's no longer needed, Emme settles her unrepentant gaze on Viremi, and just nods before she steps back to try and melt back into the crowd. You know, so she can go hurl or something now. Maybe.

Dragon> To Szadath, Isforaith, Cadejoth, and Iskiveth, Rielsath draws glimmering traces in the dark, anchors and nets and huts. << We found them. This is our treasure, >> She's not giving up, bright shafts of light blinding. << If they are dirty, we will make them clean. If they smell, we can give 'em baths! They don't have anything, it's so obvious. Nothing. >> An image of a barren beach, a starving people. << Lujayn says they won't fight. >>

"I believe it. People are --" Phedre cuts herself off of her dour statement, tucking stray strands of dark curls that escape her long braid. "Like that," she waves her hand to the crowd of sea monsters. "We know nothing of them and yet suddenly we're putting the hands of our salvation to potential disappointment." Skeptic and afraid of change, Phedre stares at the "sea monsters" for a little longer before she turns to go. "And all this gawking isn't going to put food on our tables tonight and I doubt /they/ are going to be dropping off a sea-monster's weight in food." This, then, is the start of the girl's extrication of the crowd.

Z'yi doesn't miss a beat, taking his maps and his helmet and starting up Isforaith's straps with alacrity. "Damned savages." Mutter. Mutter. He climbs up and straps himself in, leaving Lujayn to the wolves and himself to the quick escape if all the little pygmies pull out their spears and arrows to try to kill them and eat their livers.

Dragon> << If they want to fight, I will come and fight them! >> Of course that would be Iskiveth's first impulse. << What is there to research? Burn them or bring them. Any other option is a waste of resources. >> Resources that could be used to benefit /her./ And, less importantly, the rest of the Weyr. << We could always take them back. >> An after thought. (Iskiveth to Szadath, Isforaith, Cadejoth, and Rielsath)

Celadion taps the stick against his shoulder a few times as he catches Shimana's remark and swings the weapon down to thumb the edge thoughtfully. Hey, if they're not here to 'save' them, they might be here for some other bad tidings. "What have they come to take?" Because they can't be here for any good reason right?

Evali holds still, supporting Viremi still as he speaks. She does not say anything, still -- it's a talent of hers. Except for muttering, under her breath, "We are not /savages/."

Lujayn nods, painfully aware that the villagers have little to spare already. "We have orders to do nothing- to bring no one. From the Weyrleaders." She concludes, listening respectfully to Viremi's words. "For tonight, it sounds like we are going back." This last with a powerful glare towards the gold dragon who is growing more restless, keening under her breath with some agitation. "She thinks you are the treasure we've been searching for." A little smile, hoping to ease the tension.

Dragon> To Szadath, Iskiveth, Cadejoth, and Rielsath, Isforaith has a crackle of exasperated fire for Iskiveth's words. << We're not going to /burn/ them, >> he indignantly replies. Only belated: << Z'yi already asked me, and I told him no, and if I can't burn them, no-one can. >> He came out of the damned Arson egg -- he'd totally have dibs if dibs were to be called, hello. << We should take one of them back. To ask questions. >> A pause. << The mouthy Harper, maybe. >>

Viremi's hand tightens briefly on Evali's shoulder, though there's the faintest hint of a smile on his lips for a moment at her muttering. "We have your promise, that you will return, Lujayn of High Reaches?" he asks, of Lujayn. Of treasure, he knows nothing, and so that earns a blank stare that could, in some respects, be interpreted as an attempt to disassemble.

Dragon> << No. >> Cadejoth is resolute. << Pull back. Withdraw. Regroup. K'del wants full reports from all of your riders. We will... see. >> He sounds very like K'del at this moment: much less happy puppy, more determined, focused leader. << We will go and see them where they are. In a proper meeting. When we know more. K'del says none of them can leave the island until we're sure. >> (Cadejoth to Iskiveth, Szadath, Isforaith, and Rielsath)

"Treasure, hah." Taikrin snorts, clearly unimpressed with Lujayn's assessment. "More like a pain in our asses. Gonna cost us-- like, the /opposite/ of treasure." She returns to Szadath's side, pausing by his forearm to glare out over the crowd again. "We got your image now, we can come back whenever we want." Why does that sound so much like a threat?

Xavior sobers at the mention of treasure, striking his long features into a grave expression. Their promise of leaving softens the lines somewhat, but already he's inching back from where he stood for the duration of the conversation, slipping through the crowd and away from the invaders, because that is exactly what they have become in that tiny interval: thieves.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Isforaith, Iskiveth, and Cadejoth, Szadath is with Iskiveth on this one, all the way. << I can get some firestone, >> he offers helpfully. << It's not so big. And then we could dig around and see where they hid the treasure. >> It's a plan, offered idly, even while there's a soft acknowledgement of Cadejoth's order /as/ an order. << We return. >>

"What does that mean? Got our image?" Celadion's nose crinkles up and he blinks around at his other exiles, grumbling and looking very much like a savage that would like to throw the stick at the escaping intruders. "Does that mean they'll come back? With others?" Maybe he'll need more sticks, those sea monsters are really big.

Riorde trusts Viremi and his words no further than she trusts the riders and their dragons. His talk of 'salvation' earns her dark scowl, and although the girl doesn't move to depart, even as the riders start to make their leave, she looks bitterly disappointed, watching with a hard, cold stare.

"How," Tom wants to know, "did they manage to talk to their people back-- wherever they came?" He shakes his head; he looks distinctly unimpressed by this point.

Dragon> To Szadath, Isforaith, Cadejoth, and Rielsath, Iskiveth's rumble of annoyance at Cadejoth and K'del backing out is clear enough to all of them but likely /most/ focused on the bronze himself. << If they want to fight, you only give them more time to plot by waiting. >> She should know. But that's all she's going to say now, decisions made.

Dragon> To Szadath, Isforaith, Rielsath, and Iskiveth, Cadejoth's response to /that/ is a kind of mental zap aimed at both Szadath and Iskiveth. << We don't know anything, yet. They look hungry. >> And that's final.

Phedre slips free, winding her way back up the beach towards the settlement, home, and her mother and brother. Her expression is schooled in lines of apprehension, but soon enough she's gone.

Viremi straightens marginally, his voice rising as he turns to the group gathered on the beach. "The council will discuss the happenings that have occurred tonight. Tomorrow morning, we will suspend our usual activities and will have a meeting of all. I urge you all to stay calm, for we believe, as we always have, that the truth will win out." He gives a sharp nod of his head, then turns his back, tipping his head towards the other elders present as he heads for the settlement.

Lujayn nods solemnly. "You have my word." She looks longingly towards the village of huts, the rocky outline of caves in the distance, itching to explore every inch of the island. Orders are orders, and she's soon making her way back to Rielsath - between neckridges, straps firmly in place. "We'll come back," She calls again before goading Rielsath to take off, whirling away with Isforaith and Szadath, the trio vanishing into thin air mere wingbeats after they leave the ground. Gone, never to return? Or to keep their promise?

Only after the trio has left does the boy's form shake away on the beach, groggy and bleary-eyed. Khorde's mussed-hair head lifts from the sand to blearily peer after everyone. Owl-blinks move from beach to sky to sea to settlement, and confusion overtakes the lad's expression. "What'd I miss?"

Kiyora shakes her head, a long-held breath escaping her lips. The humor of this small scene has apparently escaped her. "We'll catch you up," She kneels beside Khorde, resigned. "Let's get you walking back home now. Strange stuff to chat about."

Khorde follows after Kiyora obediently enough, but there's no shaking the scrunch-foreheaded expression-- he's feeling as if he's missing something. A /big/ something. For once, however, he is neither sullen nor sulky, tagging along after the woman with that selfsame look of puzzlement. He'll have questions, later -- but for now, for this once, he'll stay quiet and listen instead. A great many things he'll have option to listen, should he choose; a great many things. Life is never easy, is it.