LOG: Lessons
Date: Day 14, Month 12, Turn 25
Location: Settlement, Western Island
Synopsis: K'del visits the exiles, and tries to answer some questions.
News of the impending squall has people even more agitated then they were the day before, were it even possible. But where others are still hiding in the caves, and still more people are trying to decide which precious posessions to take with him, and even more people are hauling supplies to the caves "just in case" the riders abandon them here anyway.... Emmeline sits in front of the bonfire with a blanket wrapped around herself tightly and her face bent over a journal. It's ALL she's been doing since yesterday's big surprise, whether she elder's council has called on her or not. Eat, read. Nap, read. She hasn't even been asked to help with the heavier chores - which could be because she snarled at the first person who made a snippy comment at her about it. Rilka obsesses about fish, and Emme obsesses about her books now.
That's the rumour going around: that the weyr might rescue them all in the face of this incoming storm. Not that it's been confirmed by anyone, just yet; not that some people are really decided if they want to go or not. Regardless, if the storm's as big as Shimana seems to think it will be, preparations need to be made. There was a disruption in the work, earlier, when a tall, blonde-haired man identified as High Reaches' 'Weyrleader', K'del, showed up. Despite general suspicion, he's spent an hour or two helping out: hauling supplies, securing roofs, whatever's necessary. Now, though, wiping sweat from his brow, he swings himself into a seat not far from Emmeline. "You're some reader," he remarks, in the low drawl that would mark him as Tillekian, if only the exiles knew what that was.
Emmeline glances up from her book when K'del plops down into a seat nearby, and then looks back down again as if she didn't see him, and then back up again when he addresses her. "It's the best thing I can do to help right now." she finally replies, a bit of a smile appearing. "My duties to you and your lifemate, Weyrleader." Even in her self-isolation it would have been impossible to miss his entrance and identification. "It was nice of you to come and help out." she adds, finally closing the pages of the journal so that she doesn't appear too rude. "Even though you're suspicious of us, and many of us are suspicious of you in turn." Yea, Z'yi nailed it. She's mouthy.
There's a certain amount of rueful abashment in K'del's expression for Emmeline's words, but he inclines his head forward nonetheless, allowing a kind of grave nod in her direction. "Reckon it's the least I can do," he tells her, firmly enough that it seems be genuine. "For now. While we, uh, work things out. My duties to you, too; don't think I've caught your name yet? There are," his expression is beleaguered. "An awful lot of you, you see." His hands to come rest on his trousers - that nice, thick, lined leather that is no doubt keeping him warm despite the chilly autumn afternoon.
"I'm sorry, that was... negligent of me. My name is Emmeline." the girl offers, holding out her hand to be shaken. "Whether the elders choose to include me in any talks or not, you should know that I have much of the detail surounding our initial exile here. Obviously, it's from the perspective of someone who was on the wrong side of history, but.." her shoulders lift and fall. "And we've all.. the line of harper's... we've all made a point of journalling about the politics of the island. Power structure. Daily life. It cold be useful. Because, yeah... there's an awful lot of us." She can't help that she starts staring at those nice, thick... pants of K'del's. Envy rather noticeable. "Even supplies, those would help." Blink, blink. Oh right! Politics. Yeah. "And you'll want to speak with Devaki. He's our mindhealer, and he knows the bloodlines. Viremi as well, obviously. But, well." He's old and set in his ways.
K'del accepts the hand, shaking it gravely, strong-gripped, with a hand that has seen a reasonable amount of work in its time. He listens with apparent sincerity and genuine interest; his mouth doesn't so much as twitch as she eyes his pants, though there's something in his gaze, then, that suggests he might be holding back amusement nonetheless. Still; "Emmeline, well met. And I'm K'del. I'll keep that in mind - you, Devaki. Your records. We're doing the best we can, but for the moment, it rather seems like meetings need to take second priority to this storm of yours." His glance takes in the sky overhead, the relentless clouds. "It's all-- complicated."
"Don't tell me you dragonriders don't know how to multi-task." Emmeline drawls, unable to help the small dig, even /if/ the man has more rank then she'll ever achieve. She looks up at the sky then, their worry about the storm taking precedence over anything else. "We lost two girls in the last storm. So that makes it worse for people, to have the memory so close on the heels of this." she explains, trying to keep her eyes off of K'del's pants. Rude, you know. But they look so warm! Plus, he has gloves, and a jacket, and... "Just don't let the rest of us die out here forgotten, K'del. It's complicated, but that... that's a bit more simple, I hope."
Happily, that drawled remark makes K'del /actually/ smile this time - and that makes him relax, somehow, as though he's remembered he's talking to real people here, and not, you know, Diplomatic Disasters. Or whatever. His smile doesn't last, though: "Oh, shells, I'm sorry to hear that. The girls. No wonder-- I don't intend to let you die out here forgotten, Emmeline." It's not a promise, but there's something steely in his tone: earnest, genuine, intent. "We found you. That, I guess, makes you our responsibility. I don't know what that's going to mean, yet, but I don't intend to shirk my responsibilities."
Emme grins, relaxing a little as well when her mild barb makes the man smile. Okay, maybe they all aren't so bad. "The girls, they aren't your fault so there's no need to be sorry. I guess I shouldn't have said what I did about... forgetting us. I apologize." she murmurs, clutching both blanket and book to her tightly. "I know you'll do what you can. You seem like a good person. And a responsible one." For not letting them wait out the storm alone, it seems. "Try not to judge the elders too harshly. Life here is hard, and they're closer to the events that brought us here then the rest of us. Hard to blame them for being bitter and suspicious. And that... well, it trickles down to everyone else, you know? Anyway... what's left to be done out here? You'e been working awfully hard."
"There's no need to apologise," says K'del, firmly. "Think I would be as anxious as you all are, if it were me. I get to go home to a nice warm weyr, safe and sound, and you--" He trails off, but the lines of his face give a pretty good indication that he's imagining the worst. "That's what elders are for, I think: being set in their ways. It's the young who want to change everything." He's nodding again, taking in her words with relative equanimity. "Think most people are just trying to get things moved into the caves? Guess that makes sense: less likely to be blown away, or whatever. Those huts of yours seem like... well. You have to secure what you can and hope for the best, right? It's hard to beli-- I'm sorry." It's not clear what he's apologising for; he shakes his head again, faster.
"Possible sticking point when talking to other people - you might want to steer clear of reminding all of us about what we're missing." Emmeline points out, her tone laced with dry humor and barely contained envy. "The huts are made of mud and reeds, mostly. So depending on how bad the storm is, some could well wind up destroyed. But, it's happened before. And we've gotten through it. Winter is the worst time here. Not that any season is entirely pleasant." she admits, covering up her blanche at his reminder of securing what they can and hoping for the best by pretending to cough. Or something. It doesn't work well. "Mmhmm." For anyone coming into the area, it looks like Emmeline and K'del are seated close to the bonfire that's still burning to keep everyone warm, while people move around the little village gathering items to take up to the caves in the face of the impending storm.
Sarcastically cheerful rather than his typical sullen sulkiness, Khorde has a bag on one side of him and a child on the other as he totally crashes this little scene: "I helped make some of them-- they're not going to make it." So optimistic on the huts -- so optimistic about life. "Emmeline, isn't this one of your charges?" He's looking for anything to rescue him from the Child Clinger(tm), so he holds his hand out towards the girl, with chubby fingers still attached to his thumb in a deathgrip. "I dunno what he's doing out of the caves-- found him rambling around up north of here talking about helping his daddy catch more crabs." His look to K'del is brief, and dismissive: yeah, like anyone can take a dude that tall and that blonde /seriously/. The kid takes one look at K'del and attaches himself to Khorde's leg, squalling like, well, a frightened child.
K'del turns pink when Emmeline chides him, visibly awkward in the knowledge of his faux pas. Khorde's arrival saves him from having to say anything immediately, though: he lapses into silence to watch the youth and the child, and Emmeline, too, of course, his expression polite. "Guess it's a good thing you've got the, uh, caves, then? This kind of storm. And-- Thread, I suppose?" His awkwardness is at least partly defeated as he offers Khorde his hand: "Hello. I'm K'del, High Reaches' Weyrleader."
"Thank you for always thinking of the worst, Khorde. I don't know what we would do without you." There's obviously some unhappy tension between these two Islanders, though on Emmeline's part it seems more of a sullen resignation that they will never get along then anything else. "Aw, sweetheart it's ok. Come to Miss Emmie." the harper encourages, holding out her arms and gesturing with her hands towards the child. "That's just K'del. He's not going to hurt you I promise. See? He's holding out his hand to introduce himself. He's here to help, I promise." Amazing how she goes from humor and chiding to a soothing and encouraging tone in the drop of a hat. But anyone can see how frightened the poor thing is. "Where's your mom or dad, cutie. You know you should be with them at all times right now."
The little boy, maybe four years old, detaches himself from Khorde's leg and resets his cling-factor on Emmeline. Khorde is visibly relieved, slumping to his normal slouch afterwards. His brow furrows at K'del's statement, and he stares at the man's hand for a second longer than is proper before clumsily shaking it. "Khorde. Hut-fixer, handyman, bitchboy." He's nothing to hide, and his question is sullen moreso than totally hostile: "You comin' to apologize for gettin' everyone's hopes up and then tellin' us we can all die in a storm?" The kid is too caught up in his little cryfest to really reply to Emmeline, though his squabbling has died down to a quiet, hiccuping tearful face-burrow into her neck.
K'del's grip is strong, and though Khorde's question unsettles him, it's apparently he's been hearing this kind of thing for as long as he's been visiting - most of the afternoon, at this point. At least he's been making himself useful for most of it. "Hello, Khorde," he says, in a tone that is obviously striving to be even and authoritative without being patronizing. "No, I'm here to help out, and try to get to know some of you. Don't intend to get any of you killed; just because we're not sure exactly what's going to happen, yet, doesn't mean we're not going to do our best for you. Like I was telling Emmeline, here: you're kind of our responsibility, now. Since we found you."
"/Khorde/." Emmeline hisses, although she knows any admonishment she could give would be in vain. She's also kind of busy with her arms full of cold and frightened child. So, she just tries to wrap part of her blanket around the boy and help warm him up some. "Remember what I told you about staying with your parents or with Ani, or with me? Don't you go running off any more. You've probably scared everyone else witless." For all that she's trying to scold at the same time, her voice is just too soft to actually accomplish it though, and a sigh escapes. "And before you start, Khorde, I'm pretty sure he doesn't care who's blooded and who's not." Best to get that out of the way quickly, she figures.
"Oh, I get it," Khorde states, slipping more and more back into that seemingly-perpetual sulk of his; "You want to keep us as pets." Hi mom! An exile followed me home today... Can I keep him? Pleeeeeeeeeeease? "What?" His gaze at Emmeline is direct and scowly. But then the woman says something that causes the dark-haired boy to /pause/, literally back up a step, and study K'del with an entirely different manner of thought creasing lines in his forehead. It's difficult, okay? His brain doesn't get used that often. Blood more often is needed, uh, elsewhere. "You're not Blooded?" he questions the weyrleader, his tone cautious, wary.
A group of young women are cross the settlement from the direction of the caves. Rhaelyn is in the middle of the group, her expression a guarded mask while the other girls chat in shrill exited voices. The unfamiliar face only drive the pitch up in octives and the group stops, heads moving closer together as they, "He's here to help out." One of the girls says and pulls at Rhae's arm but the girl doesn't show any emotion at all and shifts the obviously empty basket over her arm, looking at the group around K'del, trying to listen in over the natter of the girls she's with.
Cheeks colouring, K'del looks all set to object, and strenuously, though he doesn't quite have the chance to actually do so before Khorde's complete change in demeanour has his gaze shifting madly between one exile and the other. It's probably not surprising, then, that he completely fails to notice Rhaelyn and the group of girls. "No," he says, after a moment, sounding mildly confused. "No, I'm not Blooded. Neither's my Weyrwoman, Tiriana. Or any of the weyrwomen at High Reaches, for that matter. Blood like that doesn't really matter at the weyr. Why? Why does it matter? None of us are inheriting holds, surely, Blooded or no."
There's others that are hanging about, or coming and going and just happening to eavesdrop on this stranger that they've found in their midst. Jaques is one of them. "So you've a council then," he wonders, pausing rather than walking on by. "Like Shimana and Grams, Da, and the rest of them."
Emmeline tries to keep her voice low, explicitly because of the group of approaching girls, when she tries to explain. See how useful she is K'del? And this time she's not even staring at those awesome pants. "That's one of those political things I mentioned. There's a... uhm, growing divide between those who are full blooded. And, those who aren't. Depending on who you're talking to, those of the Blood feel they should receive better treatment, and be restored to their rightful place at the Holds. Those not of the Blood feel cheated and used, since they're often married into the bloodline just to keep it diverse. And, they tend to get the shit jobs around here, to be blunt. I'm sure it's the same on the mainland? Blooded feel priviledged, others don't. It's just more noticeable here, being a small island. Nobody here knows anyting else." For Jaques, the girl gives a nod of greeting. While she also tries to hold her hands over the little boy's ears as he remains clinging to her.
"Seaweed and spindrift," Khorde swears, his voice somewhere between shock and awe. He's not so much in shock and awe as to /not/ point along with what Emme's saying -- CHEATED and USED right here! Right here! Only then, belated, does he notice Jaques and look even halfway guilty. It's soon covered by his questioning of K'del, "If Blooded doesn't matter at the weyr, how-- what makes you special, then, to be the leader?" Sotto-voice, after a slightly critical look-over of the bronzerider: "I'm guessing it's not fighting to the death."
K'del looks, uh, a little overwhelmed by now: all these questions, all this information. That's probably why it takes him a moment to actually respond, though he's listened to Emmeline's explanation with an increasingly thinly veiled expression of distaste. "No, it's not like that at all. Uh-- Hi." That must be to Jaques. "Not really a council, I guess, no. I mean-- this answers your question too, I guess, Khorde. Well. In a weyr, you have two leaders: The Weyrwoman and the Weyrleader. She rides a gold dragon - they're the biggest - and he has a bronze - they're the second biggest. We're... the final authority, I guess? But there are people below us: Junior Weyrwomen, Wingleaders, Wingseconds. And then the Headwoman's staff." It's kind of a complicated explanation, and K'del is visibly struggling with it. "I'm the Weyrleader because my Cadejoth, uh, mated with Tiriana's Iovniath."
Jaques doesn't know what to say to that. His mouth opens, shuts, and then curves into a faint smirk, and he slides over toward Khorde ever so subtlety. "Now there's a place for you, brother," he says, nudging the younger boy with an elbow. "All it takes to be in charge is--well. Maybe not for you after all."
"Not everyone thinks that way." Emmeline is quick to add, though she also shuts her mouth for a moment there. Which, if you ask around, is really a momentous event. She's quite the motormouth. Really. And while pretending to hug the now not as frightened child to her - she tries to make sure he doesn't hear what comes out of her mouth next. "What, you mean... your male leaders are decided by who the ... female leader's dragon has sex with? Really?" She'll try not to be smug about that. WOMEN RULE. Er, I mean... "Huh. And...." her voice dies out when Jaques speaks. Because she is then too busy trying not to snicker. But, she can't quite manage it. And holding it back just makes the outright burst of laughter even worse. "Ohhhh, ouch. Nice one."
Annoyance flickers rapidfire over Khorde's expression, and he does glower at Jaques, who is nice but not that nice, okay? "I'm not your brother," he replies, sullen. To K'del: "Yes, but who /decides/ that your... dragon is going to get it on with her... dragon?" He glares at Emmeline, too, just for fun. "And why does it matter, with the dragons? Shouldn't they have their own leadership? I mean, if all this talk about them being as smart as us is true, shouldn't they have their own leadership away from you guys?" Since obviously the metaphor at hand is that the dragons are to humans as non-Bloods are to Bloods.
"When you put it like that..." K'del's words are for Emmeline, rueful and slightly embarrassed. His gaze, however, is clearly for Khorde: he looks genuinely sympathetic, though the further questions have him hesitate all over again. "Unlike us," he explains, scrubbing at his eyes with the air of one who is totally in over his head, "female dragons mate on a-- cycle, I guess. Every couple of months for greens, and every couple of turns for golds. When they're ready to mate, they, uh, rise. Like, start flying away. And the males chase them. And the one that catches her--" He could probably talk himself in circles for a while longer here, but he changes tack, explaining, instead, "They're smart, but they have really short memories. Cadejoth and Iovniath still help lead, but it's kind of a partnership. They're-- like the other half of you? It's hard to explain."
"Sorry, brother." Jaques can't help himself; not when Khorde's just going to walk into them like that. But the sulky teen does have some good points, so it's K'del who earns most of Jaques' attention still. The explanations do nothing to mitigate his faintly confused expression. This whole flying away and catching thing, for on-- "Sounds like something that would put any human man on an island here with us," he notes, frowning.
Emmeline can do nothing more then just grin at poor K'del. Hey, it might sound like the end of the world to all the boys round here that have had it good being the king of the roost for so long. But for her? Hell, she's not complaining too much about women, somehow, in some way... being the top dogs. "Might wana quit while you're aheeeead." she singsongs, trying to keep that voice of hers real low.
"I think you're not telling us everything." Khorde's expression states an intrinsic distrust for anyone who blushes as much as K'del does. "But. We'll see... maybe. If we don't all die in the storm." This last is a mutter, almost under his breath, as he flags a hand up in a wave to everyone and calmly plucks the child off of Emmeline. "I'm headin' to the caves anyhow." Mutter mutter. "Maybe if I hunker down enough a gale-force wind won't knock my head off." This is stated loud enough and pitched in a way that it's certain he meant it for K'del's ears: then the boy of constant complaints is striding off towards the cave entrance, the little boy sprawled over his shoulder, already half-asleep.
There are, very obviously, an awful lot of things K'del would like to add to his words - to Jaques, to Khorde - but in the end, he snaps his mouth shut and looks wary for several long moments as he watches the younger boy go. Finally, to Emmeline, "I think I'm already behind." At least he sounds relatively cheerful about the prospect. "It's kind of a lot to explain. Complicated. It's not-- /rape/." He glances at Jaques again as he says that. "It really isn't. It's - well, you make better dragons if the flight is fast and high, and a really virile male wins. It's just how they do it. And we're really not going to let you all die on the storm, I swear."
Jaques is not usually one for speaking up, and he doesn't now, only looks hard at K'del like he doesn't quite believe that. "I'll see you, Khorde," he tells the departing boy, but that's all he has to say for the moment.
Looking a litle surprise when Khorde relieves her of the now sleepy child, she just sort of nods at him with a puzzled expresion. But then he's back to his charming self, and he has to sigh. "He's always like that. Don't take it personal." is suggested mildy. "Well, that conversation went well. We don't really teach much about the dragons, because there's never been much point." The words accompany a sheepish shrug. "I'm sure you can't stick around forever answering odd questions from the... what was it Z'yi called us? Savages. Yes."
"I generally try not to take anyone too personally," promises K'del, though he's still glancing in the direction Khorde departed in every so often, his brows turned in ever so slightly. As his gaze turns back towards those remaining, they linger on Jaques, briefly, considering him wordlessly. Then: "Suppose there wouldn't have been. Got to focus on the things that are necessary. Guess-- well. There're going to be all kinds of lessons for all of us." Emmeline's final words, though not responded to immediately, do draw his attention back. "You're not savages, whatever the bluerider said. Though you're probably right: I can't stick around here indefinitely."
"Oh?" Jaques will settle then on something K'del says as he breaks his silence. "What are your lessons?" It's an innocent question. Really!
"Good thing, too." Around the island anyway. Left now with just her book and blanket to worry about, Emmeline can focus more on the conversation at hand. And really, Jaques question piques her curiousity. What? She's a harper... can't help herself. "I think he earned himself a few less friends with that remark. But then, I doubt he cares much." is commented idly, while she awaits his answer on lessons.
K'del is beginning to look a little wary of these questions from Jaques, though he answers evenly enough. "We have no records of your exile. Honestly? We didn't know you people existed until the other day, and so far, we haven't found anything to prove /anything/. Your way of life is completely foreign. I guess you've probably got all kinds of customs that I know nothing about. You better believe there's plenty for me to learn." Of Khorde, he says nothing more; just a shrug.
"Quite strange," agrees Jaques. But that's all; he leaves the rest of it untouched, though he's silent again to study the rider. Finally, "I should get inside; Evie's not been feeling well of late," he makes his excuses as he turns to go. "Good day, sir. Emme."
Emmeline looks a bit pale at the idea that there's nothing of their existence at all, in any records. It's enough to send her little harper trained minds into a tailspin of panic. Since, without corroboration of any kind...? But except for a bit of a dismayed gasp, she decides to be tight-lipped this time. "I hope Evie fels better, Jacques." she adds sincerely, as the other islander gets ready to leave. "Guess I'll head up to the caves for now, and help out some before I get back to reading then. Nie to meet you, K'del. I don't envy you about now."
K'del's gaze does shoot towards Emmeline at that gasp, though he says nothing. "It was a pleasure to meet you both," he says, instead, gravely, as he stands and wipes off his (oh so warm) trousers with both hands. "If it helps, I don't envy you much either, Emmeline. Have a good evening."
Location: Settlement, Western Island
Synopsis: K'del visits the exiles, and tries to answer some questions.
News of the impending squall has people even more agitated then they were the day before, were it even possible. But where others are still hiding in the caves, and still more people are trying to decide which precious posessions to take with him, and even more people are hauling supplies to the caves "just in case" the riders abandon them here anyway.... Emmeline sits in front of the bonfire with a blanket wrapped around herself tightly and her face bent over a journal. It's ALL she's been doing since yesterday's big surprise, whether she elder's council has called on her or not. Eat, read. Nap, read. She hasn't even been asked to help with the heavier chores - which could be because she snarled at the first person who made a snippy comment at her about it. Rilka obsesses about fish, and Emme obsesses about her books now.
That's the rumour going around: that the weyr might rescue them all in the face of this incoming storm. Not that it's been confirmed by anyone, just yet; not that some people are really decided if they want to go or not. Regardless, if the storm's as big as Shimana seems to think it will be, preparations need to be made. There was a disruption in the work, earlier, when a tall, blonde-haired man identified as High Reaches' 'Weyrleader', K'del, showed up. Despite general suspicion, he's spent an hour or two helping out: hauling supplies, securing roofs, whatever's necessary. Now, though, wiping sweat from his brow, he swings himself into a seat not far from Emmeline. "You're some reader," he remarks, in the low drawl that would mark him as Tillekian, if only the exiles knew what that was.
Emmeline glances up from her book when K'del plops down into a seat nearby, and then looks back down again as if she didn't see him, and then back up again when he addresses her. "It's the best thing I can do to help right now." she finally replies, a bit of a smile appearing. "My duties to you and your lifemate, Weyrleader." Even in her self-isolation it would have been impossible to miss his entrance and identification. "It was nice of you to come and help out." she adds, finally closing the pages of the journal so that she doesn't appear too rude. "Even though you're suspicious of us, and many of us are suspicious of you in turn." Yea, Z'yi nailed it. She's mouthy.
There's a certain amount of rueful abashment in K'del's expression for Emmeline's words, but he inclines his head forward nonetheless, allowing a kind of grave nod in her direction. "Reckon it's the least I can do," he tells her, firmly enough that it seems be genuine. "For now. While we, uh, work things out. My duties to you, too; don't think I've caught your name yet? There are," his expression is beleaguered. "An awful lot of you, you see." His hands to come rest on his trousers - that nice, thick, lined leather that is no doubt keeping him warm despite the chilly autumn afternoon.
"I'm sorry, that was... negligent of me. My name is Emmeline." the girl offers, holding out her hand to be shaken. "Whether the elders choose to include me in any talks or not, you should know that I have much of the detail surounding our initial exile here. Obviously, it's from the perspective of someone who was on the wrong side of history, but.." her shoulders lift and fall. "And we've all.. the line of harper's... we've all made a point of journalling about the politics of the island. Power structure. Daily life. It cold be useful. Because, yeah... there's an awful lot of us." She can't help that she starts staring at those nice, thick... pants of K'del's. Envy rather noticeable. "Even supplies, those would help." Blink, blink. Oh right! Politics. Yeah. "And you'll want to speak with Devaki. He's our mindhealer, and he knows the bloodlines. Viremi as well, obviously. But, well." He's old and set in his ways.
K'del accepts the hand, shaking it gravely, strong-gripped, with a hand that has seen a reasonable amount of work in its time. He listens with apparent sincerity and genuine interest; his mouth doesn't so much as twitch as she eyes his pants, though there's something in his gaze, then, that suggests he might be holding back amusement nonetheless. Still; "Emmeline, well met. And I'm K'del. I'll keep that in mind - you, Devaki. Your records. We're doing the best we can, but for the moment, it rather seems like meetings need to take second priority to this storm of yours." His glance takes in the sky overhead, the relentless clouds. "It's all-- complicated."
"Don't tell me you dragonriders don't know how to multi-task." Emmeline drawls, unable to help the small dig, even /if/ the man has more rank then she'll ever achieve. She looks up at the sky then, their worry about the storm taking precedence over anything else. "We lost two girls in the last storm. So that makes it worse for people, to have the memory so close on the heels of this." she explains, trying to keep her eyes off of K'del's pants. Rude, you know. But they look so warm! Plus, he has gloves, and a jacket, and... "Just don't let the rest of us die out here forgotten, K'del. It's complicated, but that... that's a bit more simple, I hope."
Happily, that drawled remark makes K'del /actually/ smile this time - and that makes him relax, somehow, as though he's remembered he's talking to real people here, and not, you know, Diplomatic Disasters. Or whatever. His smile doesn't last, though: "Oh, shells, I'm sorry to hear that. The girls. No wonder-- I don't intend to let you die out here forgotten, Emmeline." It's not a promise, but there's something steely in his tone: earnest, genuine, intent. "We found you. That, I guess, makes you our responsibility. I don't know what that's going to mean, yet, but I don't intend to shirk my responsibilities."
Emme grins, relaxing a little as well when her mild barb makes the man smile. Okay, maybe they all aren't so bad. "The girls, they aren't your fault so there's no need to be sorry. I guess I shouldn't have said what I did about... forgetting us. I apologize." she murmurs, clutching both blanket and book to her tightly. "I know you'll do what you can. You seem like a good person. And a responsible one." For not letting them wait out the storm alone, it seems. "Try not to judge the elders too harshly. Life here is hard, and they're closer to the events that brought us here then the rest of us. Hard to blame them for being bitter and suspicious. And that... well, it trickles down to everyone else, you know? Anyway... what's left to be done out here? You'e been working awfully hard."
"There's no need to apologise," says K'del, firmly. "Think I would be as anxious as you all are, if it were me. I get to go home to a nice warm weyr, safe and sound, and you--" He trails off, but the lines of his face give a pretty good indication that he's imagining the worst. "That's what elders are for, I think: being set in their ways. It's the young who want to change everything." He's nodding again, taking in her words with relative equanimity. "Think most people are just trying to get things moved into the caves? Guess that makes sense: less likely to be blown away, or whatever. Those huts of yours seem like... well. You have to secure what you can and hope for the best, right? It's hard to beli-- I'm sorry." It's not clear what he's apologising for; he shakes his head again, faster.
"Possible sticking point when talking to other people - you might want to steer clear of reminding all of us about what we're missing." Emmeline points out, her tone laced with dry humor and barely contained envy. "The huts are made of mud and reeds, mostly. So depending on how bad the storm is, some could well wind up destroyed. But, it's happened before. And we've gotten through it. Winter is the worst time here. Not that any season is entirely pleasant." she admits, covering up her blanche at his reminder of securing what they can and hoping for the best by pretending to cough. Or something. It doesn't work well. "Mmhmm." For anyone coming into the area, it looks like Emmeline and K'del are seated close to the bonfire that's still burning to keep everyone warm, while people move around the little village gathering items to take up to the caves in the face of the impending storm.
Sarcastically cheerful rather than his typical sullen sulkiness, Khorde has a bag on one side of him and a child on the other as he totally crashes this little scene: "I helped make some of them-- they're not going to make it." So optimistic on the huts -- so optimistic about life. "Emmeline, isn't this one of your charges?" He's looking for anything to rescue him from the Child Clinger(tm), so he holds his hand out towards the girl, with chubby fingers still attached to his thumb in a deathgrip. "I dunno what he's doing out of the caves-- found him rambling around up north of here talking about helping his daddy catch more crabs." His look to K'del is brief, and dismissive: yeah, like anyone can take a dude that tall and that blonde /seriously/. The kid takes one look at K'del and attaches himself to Khorde's leg, squalling like, well, a frightened child.
K'del turns pink when Emmeline chides him, visibly awkward in the knowledge of his faux pas. Khorde's arrival saves him from having to say anything immediately, though: he lapses into silence to watch the youth and the child, and Emmeline, too, of course, his expression polite. "Guess it's a good thing you've got the, uh, caves, then? This kind of storm. And-- Thread, I suppose?" His awkwardness is at least partly defeated as he offers Khorde his hand: "Hello. I'm K'del, High Reaches' Weyrleader."
"Thank you for always thinking of the worst, Khorde. I don't know what we would do without you." There's obviously some unhappy tension between these two Islanders, though on Emmeline's part it seems more of a sullen resignation that they will never get along then anything else. "Aw, sweetheart it's ok. Come to Miss Emmie." the harper encourages, holding out her arms and gesturing with her hands towards the child. "That's just K'del. He's not going to hurt you I promise. See? He's holding out his hand to introduce himself. He's here to help, I promise." Amazing how she goes from humor and chiding to a soothing and encouraging tone in the drop of a hat. But anyone can see how frightened the poor thing is. "Where's your mom or dad, cutie. You know you should be with them at all times right now."
The little boy, maybe four years old, detaches himself from Khorde's leg and resets his cling-factor on Emmeline. Khorde is visibly relieved, slumping to his normal slouch afterwards. His brow furrows at K'del's statement, and he stares at the man's hand for a second longer than is proper before clumsily shaking it. "Khorde. Hut-fixer, handyman, bitchboy." He's nothing to hide, and his question is sullen moreso than totally hostile: "You comin' to apologize for gettin' everyone's hopes up and then tellin' us we can all die in a storm?" The kid is too caught up in his little cryfest to really reply to Emmeline, though his squabbling has died down to a quiet, hiccuping tearful face-burrow into her neck.
K'del's grip is strong, and though Khorde's question unsettles him, it's apparently he's been hearing this kind of thing for as long as he's been visiting - most of the afternoon, at this point. At least he's been making himself useful for most of it. "Hello, Khorde," he says, in a tone that is obviously striving to be even and authoritative without being patronizing. "No, I'm here to help out, and try to get to know some of you. Don't intend to get any of you killed; just because we're not sure exactly what's going to happen, yet, doesn't mean we're not going to do our best for you. Like I was telling Emmeline, here: you're kind of our responsibility, now. Since we found you."
"/Khorde/." Emmeline hisses, although she knows any admonishment she could give would be in vain. She's also kind of busy with her arms full of cold and frightened child. So, she just tries to wrap part of her blanket around the boy and help warm him up some. "Remember what I told you about staying with your parents or with Ani, or with me? Don't you go running off any more. You've probably scared everyone else witless." For all that she's trying to scold at the same time, her voice is just too soft to actually accomplish it though, and a sigh escapes. "And before you start, Khorde, I'm pretty sure he doesn't care who's blooded and who's not." Best to get that out of the way quickly, she figures.
"Oh, I get it," Khorde states, slipping more and more back into that seemingly-perpetual sulk of his; "You want to keep us as pets." Hi mom! An exile followed me home today... Can I keep him? Pleeeeeeeeeeease? "What?" His gaze at Emmeline is direct and scowly. But then the woman says something that causes the dark-haired boy to /pause/, literally back up a step, and study K'del with an entirely different manner of thought creasing lines in his forehead. It's difficult, okay? His brain doesn't get used that often. Blood more often is needed, uh, elsewhere. "You're not Blooded?" he questions the weyrleader, his tone cautious, wary.
A group of young women are cross the settlement from the direction of the caves. Rhaelyn is in the middle of the group, her expression a guarded mask while the other girls chat in shrill exited voices. The unfamiliar face only drive the pitch up in octives and the group stops, heads moving closer together as they, "He's here to help out." One of the girls says and pulls at Rhae's arm but the girl doesn't show any emotion at all and shifts the obviously empty basket over her arm, looking at the group around K'del, trying to listen in over the natter of the girls she's with.
Cheeks colouring, K'del looks all set to object, and strenuously, though he doesn't quite have the chance to actually do so before Khorde's complete change in demeanour has his gaze shifting madly between one exile and the other. It's probably not surprising, then, that he completely fails to notice Rhaelyn and the group of girls. "No," he says, after a moment, sounding mildly confused. "No, I'm not Blooded. Neither's my Weyrwoman, Tiriana. Or any of the weyrwomen at High Reaches, for that matter. Blood like that doesn't really matter at the weyr. Why? Why does it matter? None of us are inheriting holds, surely, Blooded or no."
There's others that are hanging about, or coming and going and just happening to eavesdrop on this stranger that they've found in their midst. Jaques is one of them. "So you've a council then," he wonders, pausing rather than walking on by. "Like Shimana and Grams, Da, and the rest of them."
Emmeline tries to keep her voice low, explicitly because of the group of approaching girls, when she tries to explain. See how useful she is K'del? And this time she's not even staring at those awesome pants. "That's one of those political things I mentioned. There's a... uhm, growing divide between those who are full blooded. And, those who aren't. Depending on who you're talking to, those of the Blood feel they should receive better treatment, and be restored to their rightful place at the Holds. Those not of the Blood feel cheated and used, since they're often married into the bloodline just to keep it diverse. And, they tend to get the shit jobs around here, to be blunt. I'm sure it's the same on the mainland? Blooded feel priviledged, others don't. It's just more noticeable here, being a small island. Nobody here knows anyting else." For Jaques, the girl gives a nod of greeting. While she also tries to hold her hands over the little boy's ears as he remains clinging to her.
"Seaweed and spindrift," Khorde swears, his voice somewhere between shock and awe. He's not so much in shock and awe as to /not/ point along with what Emme's saying -- CHEATED and USED right here! Right here! Only then, belated, does he notice Jaques and look even halfway guilty. It's soon covered by his questioning of K'del, "If Blooded doesn't matter at the weyr, how-- what makes you special, then, to be the leader?" Sotto-voice, after a slightly critical look-over of the bronzerider: "I'm guessing it's not fighting to the death."
K'del looks, uh, a little overwhelmed by now: all these questions, all this information. That's probably why it takes him a moment to actually respond, though he's listened to Emmeline's explanation with an increasingly thinly veiled expression of distaste. "No, it's not like that at all. Uh-- Hi." That must be to Jaques. "Not really a council, I guess, no. I mean-- this answers your question too, I guess, Khorde. Well. In a weyr, you have two leaders: The Weyrwoman and the Weyrleader. She rides a gold dragon - they're the biggest - and he has a bronze - they're the second biggest. We're... the final authority, I guess? But there are people below us: Junior Weyrwomen, Wingleaders, Wingseconds. And then the Headwoman's staff." It's kind of a complicated explanation, and K'del is visibly struggling with it. "I'm the Weyrleader because my Cadejoth, uh, mated with Tiriana's Iovniath."
Jaques doesn't know what to say to that. His mouth opens, shuts, and then curves into a faint smirk, and he slides over toward Khorde ever so subtlety. "Now there's a place for you, brother," he says, nudging the younger boy with an elbow. "All it takes to be in charge is--well. Maybe not for you after all."
"Not everyone thinks that way." Emmeline is quick to add, though she also shuts her mouth for a moment there. Which, if you ask around, is really a momentous event. She's quite the motormouth. Really. And while pretending to hug the now not as frightened child to her - she tries to make sure he doesn't hear what comes out of her mouth next. "What, you mean... your male leaders are decided by who the ... female leader's dragon has sex with? Really?" She'll try not to be smug about that. WOMEN RULE. Er, I mean... "Huh. And...." her voice dies out when Jaques speaks. Because she is then too busy trying not to snicker. But, she can't quite manage it. And holding it back just makes the outright burst of laughter even worse. "Ohhhh, ouch. Nice one."
Annoyance flickers rapidfire over Khorde's expression, and he does glower at Jaques, who is nice but not that nice, okay? "I'm not your brother," he replies, sullen. To K'del: "Yes, but who /decides/ that your... dragon is going to get it on with her... dragon?" He glares at Emmeline, too, just for fun. "And why does it matter, with the dragons? Shouldn't they have their own leadership? I mean, if all this talk about them being as smart as us is true, shouldn't they have their own leadership away from you guys?" Since obviously the metaphor at hand is that the dragons are to humans as non-Bloods are to Bloods.
"When you put it like that..." K'del's words are for Emmeline, rueful and slightly embarrassed. His gaze, however, is clearly for Khorde: he looks genuinely sympathetic, though the further questions have him hesitate all over again. "Unlike us," he explains, scrubbing at his eyes with the air of one who is totally in over his head, "female dragons mate on a-- cycle, I guess. Every couple of months for greens, and every couple of turns for golds. When they're ready to mate, they, uh, rise. Like, start flying away. And the males chase them. And the one that catches her--" He could probably talk himself in circles for a while longer here, but he changes tack, explaining, instead, "They're smart, but they have really short memories. Cadejoth and Iovniath still help lead, but it's kind of a partnership. They're-- like the other half of you? It's hard to explain."
"Sorry, brother." Jaques can't help himself; not when Khorde's just going to walk into them like that. But the sulky teen does have some good points, so it's K'del who earns most of Jaques' attention still. The explanations do nothing to mitigate his faintly confused expression. This whole flying away and catching thing, for on-- "Sounds like something that would put any human man on an island here with us," he notes, frowning.
Emmeline can do nothing more then just grin at poor K'del. Hey, it might sound like the end of the world to all the boys round here that have had it good being the king of the roost for so long. But for her? Hell, she's not complaining too much about women, somehow, in some way... being the top dogs. "Might wana quit while you're aheeeead." she singsongs, trying to keep that voice of hers real low.
"I think you're not telling us everything." Khorde's expression states an intrinsic distrust for anyone who blushes as much as K'del does. "But. We'll see... maybe. If we don't all die in the storm." This last is a mutter, almost under his breath, as he flags a hand up in a wave to everyone and calmly plucks the child off of Emmeline. "I'm headin' to the caves anyhow." Mutter mutter. "Maybe if I hunker down enough a gale-force wind won't knock my head off." This is stated loud enough and pitched in a way that it's certain he meant it for K'del's ears: then the boy of constant complaints is striding off towards the cave entrance, the little boy sprawled over his shoulder, already half-asleep.
There are, very obviously, an awful lot of things K'del would like to add to his words - to Jaques, to Khorde - but in the end, he snaps his mouth shut and looks wary for several long moments as he watches the younger boy go. Finally, to Emmeline, "I think I'm already behind." At least he sounds relatively cheerful about the prospect. "It's kind of a lot to explain. Complicated. It's not-- /rape/." He glances at Jaques again as he says that. "It really isn't. It's - well, you make better dragons if the flight is fast and high, and a really virile male wins. It's just how they do it. And we're really not going to let you all die on the storm, I swear."
Jaques is not usually one for speaking up, and he doesn't now, only looks hard at K'del like he doesn't quite believe that. "I'll see you, Khorde," he tells the departing boy, but that's all he has to say for the moment.
Looking a litle surprise when Khorde relieves her of the now sleepy child, she just sort of nods at him with a puzzled expresion. But then he's back to his charming self, and he has to sigh. "He's always like that. Don't take it personal." is suggested mildy. "Well, that conversation went well. We don't really teach much about the dragons, because there's never been much point." The words accompany a sheepish shrug. "I'm sure you can't stick around forever answering odd questions from the... what was it Z'yi called us? Savages. Yes."
"I generally try not to take anyone too personally," promises K'del, though he's still glancing in the direction Khorde departed in every so often, his brows turned in ever so slightly. As his gaze turns back towards those remaining, they linger on Jaques, briefly, considering him wordlessly. Then: "Suppose there wouldn't have been. Got to focus on the things that are necessary. Guess-- well. There're going to be all kinds of lessons for all of us." Emmeline's final words, though not responded to immediately, do draw his attention back. "You're not savages, whatever the bluerider said. Though you're probably right: I can't stick around here indefinitely."
"Oh?" Jaques will settle then on something K'del says as he breaks his silence. "What are your lessons?" It's an innocent question. Really!
"Good thing, too." Around the island anyway. Left now with just her book and blanket to worry about, Emmeline can focus more on the conversation at hand. And really, Jaques question piques her curiousity. What? She's a harper... can't help herself. "I think he earned himself a few less friends with that remark. But then, I doubt he cares much." is commented idly, while she awaits his answer on lessons.
K'del is beginning to look a little wary of these questions from Jaques, though he answers evenly enough. "We have no records of your exile. Honestly? We didn't know you people existed until the other day, and so far, we haven't found anything to prove /anything/. Your way of life is completely foreign. I guess you've probably got all kinds of customs that I know nothing about. You better believe there's plenty for me to learn." Of Khorde, he says nothing more; just a shrug.
"Quite strange," agrees Jaques. But that's all; he leaves the rest of it untouched, though he's silent again to study the rider. Finally, "I should get inside; Evie's not been feeling well of late," he makes his excuses as he turns to go. "Good day, sir. Emme."
Emmeline looks a bit pale at the idea that there's nothing of their existence at all, in any records. It's enough to send her little harper trained minds into a tailspin of panic. Since, without corroboration of any kind...? But except for a bit of a dismayed gasp, she decides to be tight-lipped this time. "I hope Evie fels better, Jacques." she adds sincerely, as the other islander gets ready to leave. "Guess I'll head up to the caves for now, and help out some before I get back to reading then. Nie to meet you, K'del. I don't envy you about now."
K'del's gaze does shoot towards Emmeline at that gasp, though he says nothing. "It was a pleasure to meet you both," he says, instead, gravely, as he stands and wipes off his (oh so warm) trousers with both hands. "If it helps, I don't envy you much either, Emmeline. Have a good evening."