LOG: Fish Forever
Date: Day 3, Month 8, Turn 25
Location: Fields, Western Island
Synopsis: Young people pick fruit. And complain. Mostly.
Fields, Western Island
They're not orderly fields, as such, but there's a certain organisation to the wide, flat area that has been turned over to farming. Different kinds of plants have been more or less segregated into different areas; most of them are not the kind of things that might be traditionally grown - but there are some wild grains, tubers, and even some peculiar little fruits.
There are no trees, and no greenery beyond what is being grown. The soil is rocky and shallow; there's as much actual stone here is there is soil. Without trees, the fields - if you can call them that - are open to the weather: it's possible to see out to the ocean, from here, and the beaches in between.
Whoever cleverly designed the fields ensured that there would be something harvestable pretty much the year round. Which is why on any given day there's at least a few people checking over the seasonal crop for newly ripened fruits or vegetables. This time it's a fruit of some sort that has to be plucked from terribly thorny brambles. It's a pain, literally, but the hardy plant is one of the few things that will grow in this climate and soil, so... "OW! If I get one more thorn I swear I'm ..." The clearing of someone's throat reminds Emme that there are little children around and she purses her lips in annoyance, finally straightening up so she can glance around and see who else is sharing the 'joy' of harvesting today.
Isn't it convenient how Rilka is almost always already gone for the day, when field duty comes up? Oh, she forgot. Oh, she had to go check on a trap. Oh-- /something/. A recent cut on her ankle, though, has slowed her down immensely, and perhaps that explains why she's amidst the brambles today, expression serene even if it's obvious to anyone she'd rather be elsewhere. "I'd rather just eat fish forever," she tells Emme, peering - all wide eyes and tangled hair - around a handful of thick branches to meet her gaze.
Normally, Devaki would be nowhere near the fields on any given day. He far prefers the wide-roving of fishing duties. However, he's been scolded by no less than three different elders that he's 'not to leave the area', what with the fairly obvious bandage that's currently wound around his head. He's scowling by the time he makes his way to the field, kicking rocks here and there, muttering under his breath as he nears those already working.
Riorde hates this particular chore just as much as most others, but she's soldiering through based on the idea that the quicker she picks, the sooner she can get of there and make a run for the cliffs or the shore, where space and a vista provides the illusion of freedom. Her expression is grim, set, as she pricks her fingers again and again, each one stained purple from the fruit amongst the brambles. "You'll eat fish forever anyway," she mutters, close enough to hear Rilka's remark.
"I don't blame you." Emme grumbles, peering over to the side to get a better lok at Rilka and her tangled hair. She's about to say more, and it's going to be a lecture on food variety and health, but remembering Io's voice accusng her of sounding like an elder causes her to snap her mouth shut. "You've got thorns in your hair, Ril. Lemme take them out before it gets wrose." Riorde's apt comment makes her snort back a laugh, one that turns into a sigh of agreement. "Wonder how fast we can fill our baskets and flee." she murmurs, trying to be conspiratorial. She's not very good at that. "Hey, how's the ah..." she points to the bandage when Devaki scowls and kicks his way close enough to them to hear.
Rilka hasn't seemed to notice the thorns in her hair, and blinks owlishly at Emmeline several times before she seems to grasp what the girl means. "Oh," she says. "All right." Her hair might as well be a bird's nest for the care she's taken with it - the thorns might well be the least of it. "We managed fine before we could grow things," she declares, more loudly, aimed to encompass the others. "When there was Thread, we ate only the bounty of the sea, and we survived." Barely. "We betray them."
Devaki pauses at the nearer side where the girls are working. His gaze shifts between each of them, before settling back on Emmeline at her question. The scowl deepens, and oddly, a flush along with it. "Fine," he says, misreading her meaning -- or maybe reading her meaning exactly right as he adds, "All fine." Absently, he begins scratching at his head, causing the bandage to go slightly wonky. He drops down onto a convenient rock that he can watch by, not yet making a move to wade in and help. "I don't know about you guys, but I don't care to eat only fish for the rest of my life," he comments, no doubt in response to Riorde's words. "Anyway, before /that/ we didn't eat just of the sea -- right Emme?" he looks towards her -- she's the one with the stories, after all.
Riorde bristles, tired and pressed into a job she doesn't like and, consequently, as prickly the bushes she's raiding for their fruit. "Bounty?" she echoes, derisive, and staring round her bush looks like she might go on, for a moment, to list hardships and malnutritions and injustices perceived and real. In the end, though, the girl is stony and silent, disappearing back behind her wall of thorns as she moves to side she hasn't tackled yet.
As if Emmeline would have the nerve to ask about -that- injury. In public. Horrors! Which is why his flush maeks her pinch the bridge of her nose like she's got a migraine coming on and then duck her head so that she can hide her expression behind Rilka's hair. "Right. We had a lot more variety before. The soil was more fertile. But, thread renders the soil inert. So, we've had to rely on what we were able to save and would regrow in such bad conditions. There were... birds of a kind too. But we couldn't keep them penned in, and..." her voice trails off, allowing imagination to take care of the imagery. Thorns are seemingly plucked from poor Rilka's hair to be tossed onto a patch of rock nearby. "Let me tell you, I think the worst is the seaweed though. It still tastes like fish, but it's stringy and bitter too." In fact, her shoulders give a shudder. Someone, please stop her. Everyone knows she can go on forever with stories and nonsense.
"The ocean kept us alive," insists Rilka, never one to concede a point - though you certainly won't see her turning her nose up at fruit or grains, whatever she says. If she flicks a curious glance between Emme and Devaki - easier said than done, of course, given the way the other girl ducks behind her - the expression doesn't linger. "I prefer to be alive. I wouldn't like there to be Thread, again."
Devaki's brows lift up, betraying surprise at Riorde's reaction. "What's with her?" he half-mouths towards Emmeline and Rilka, though the wall of brambles between then and Riorde doesn't really do much to prevent the words carrying, either. Then he's back to watching Emmeline pick through Rilka's hair with all the interest of a keen watcher, flatly ignoring Rilka's curious glance. He scratches at his bandage again. "Me either," on the topic of Thread, at least, he agrees fervently with Rilka on. "I don't think we'd survive, again."
Riorde can't fault Rilka so chooses not to respond - a silence that continues through Devaki's comment, though she most certainly hears it. She considers darting round the other side to whack him in the back of his head, only remembers the injury, and that's all that stops her. "I remember the birds." Hidden from view, Riorde softens. Her fingers still too as she allows herself the indulgence of an old memory. "The feathers."
"You okay over there, Riorde?" Emmeline wonders, just before she catches Dev's quiet question. "Got me." is mumbled back, and fortunately she never even notices Rilka's curious look. "The ocean did keep us alive, I agree. That doesn't mean we can't enjoy other varieties of food though, even if it's a pain in the ass to harvest it." Even she sounds annoyed at needing to pick through brambles. But, hey. "Have you let anyone look at that bandage today, or have you been stubborn about it?" she wonders next, speaking from behind Rilka's hair at Devaki, without even noticing the scratching. "Yes, the feathers. Wouldn't it be paradise to have a feather bed after all this time?"
No, Rilka has no idea what's up with Riorde, though she displays this only in a blank expression aimed at Devaki. Go figure. Even while her hair is detangled by Emme's hands, she's reaching up to grasp another fruit, though she gives it a long, vague glance rather than put it into her basket. "The feathers were pretty," she admits, sounding thoughtful. "And soft. All gone, now, though." Like a lot of things. "We had different huts, before the Thread came back. But then we all had to move. And the trees died. My father said we weren't supposed to have that Thread. It was supposed to be all gone, but it came back." This time, she does move her head, glancing up towards the sky as though she's afraid it's going to come back /right now/.
Devaki, too, looks a little wistful. "There used to be some feathers in the storage caves, but they rotted away ages ago. Maybe the birds will come back, though?" Now that's clearly wishful thinking, since if they were going to, they probably already would have. "Um." He scratches a little at the bandage again during Emmeline's question of him, then stops when he realizes what he's doing. "Not today, Grams checked it last night, though. Have you -- have you seen Io?" Rilka's words earn a long look, then he, too, squints upwards. Which is silly, of course, and something that he gives up doing immediately.
"Fine," Riorde answers, recovering into a short, brisk tone. She works her way around the bush, emerging on the other side. By the time she does, she's got a slightly guilty look about her, knowing that her brusqueness was unwarranted. "My Nan's not got any better," she gives in explanation, assuming that they know her grandmother hasn't been well; with this small of a community, the least news tends to get around. "Io? No."
Once she's done pulling thorns out of Rilka's hair, Emmeline reluctantly goes back to the chore of rooting through brambles for berries. "No, I was never able to find her." Guilt thoroughly laces her voice at that, soon mixed with sympathy for Riorde's Nan. "Sorry Riorde. I do hope she feels better soon." Of course, the question of where Io is starts to eat at her now that it's been asked, and she shortly becomes clearly agitated. "I should go looking for her again. There were a few places I never had the chance to check. And then there was teaching this morning, and..." Obviously any worry about thread or feathers can find no space to lodge in a mind already full of other things to be anxious about.
Having barely seemed to notice Emme's efforts, it's no wonder that Rilka barely seems to notice that the other girl is finished, either - not until the agitation makes her turn her head in that direction. "The island will protect her," she declares, having apparently no concept of why Iolene might be missing in the first place. "She cannot go far." Shifting her position so that she can reach for a higher fruit, she adds, "They should take your grandmother down to the rock pools, Riorde. Or up to the cliffs. So that the ocean might give her comfort and peace."
"Well, I saw her this morning at breakfast, but didn't really /see/ her," Devaki explains. "I mean, she just took off. But I thought you might've talked to her, is all. She's probably -- just fishing, or something, but --" he shrugs, and then looks at Rilka, frowning notably. "The island," he starts to echo, then shakes his head, like he thinks better of perusing that here. His version of sympathy for Riorde is a faint grimace, but he doesn't say anything. He leaves that to the other girls.
"She'll be fine." Riorde tries for a confidence she doesn't feel and once again ends up sounding abrupt. She shifts the basket she's been holding at her hip, pulling it round to the front and holding it now with both hands. "Maybe," she says, looking to Rilka, quiet a moment. "She'd probably like that." The acknowledgment is about as close to appreciative as Rio is likely to get. "I've finished," she announces then, and indeed her basket is full. "Let you know if I see her." Io. Riorde looks curious, briefly, but doesn't ask what they want with her.
"Right, she can't go far." Emmeline echoes, sounding decidedly unconvinced. "Thanks, Riorde." she adds, finally able to brush the last of the twigs off of her hands when she finishes up just behind the brunette. "Just a misunderstanding from the other day. That's all. Something I wanted to clear up with her." she explains, seeing the curious look. "Maybe you should carry the baskets since you didn't do any of the picking, Devaki." As if he's going to get away unascathed.
"The Island protects us all," Rilka intones, glancing at Devaki; apparently, she thinks this finishes his thought. She even smiles at Riorde, apparently pleased that her idea has been accepted. All hail the ocean! All hail Rilka not being completely disregarded! Her basket is not quite as full, but she still steps away from the trees, obviously intending to follow the others. Cheerfully, "Iolene will be fine. She will learn." Learn what? She doesn't exactly specify.
Pointedly reaching up to adjust his bandage -- apparently Devaki's going to milk that for all it's worth -- he rises all the same. "I'll help. Sure hope I don't get dizzy and fall down on the way back, though," he says, conversationally. He steps over towards the grouping, reaching out with the intention of taking Riorde's, at least. It's probably his way of showing sympathy. "Rilka," he says, casually, glancing over at her, "We really should talk." There's something ominous in the way he says it, like the word should have a capital t. /Talk/.
"I think you'll be fine. You didn't have a problem yesterday when you were rolling around wrestling with your friend despite blood dropping down your face." Emme points out. "Unless you're referring to your other injury." A shrewd bit of a smirk appears on her lips then before she forces it back and affects an entirely innocent and bland expression. Of course, if he needs to speak with Rilka, then Emme will step up to walk out of the fields alongside Riorde. "If there's any songs your Nan would like to hear, I'd be glad to sing for her. I don't often get to use that particular talent. But some find it soothing."
Riorde, devil's advocate, spins out an alternative to the island as protective prison. "Unless she swims out to the next one along." She's perfectly happy to surrender her basket to Devaki. "You should go first so if you fall, at least it's not on any of us," she suggests, a smile materialising when Emme takes up in a similar vein. She rolls her eyes at Rilka, but at least she's turning away by this point so it is not so terribly obvious. "Could ask - she likes the one that goes --" And Riorde proceeds to hum a few bars as she heads out of the fields beside Emmeline.
Rilka, in all her natural obliviousness, manages to miss Riorde's eye roll; truth be told, she completely freezes on receipt of Devaki's remark, her stance akin to that of a caged animal. "Talk?" she asks, glancing around wildly, from Devaki to Emmeline to Riorde, to-- anything. Everything. "What should we talk about? Why should we talk?"
Devaki makes a bit of a face at Emmeline, more to the latter point than the former. However he does seem to concede the point by offering to take her basket, too. "About the Island," is all Devaki says, like it should be mysterious enough to grab Rilka's attention, without scaring her. At least, that's his intention. "Later though," he adds, "I should get these back."
"That's alright, I've got it." Emmeline replies, glancing over to give Rilka an encouraging smile. "Sounds interesting." she adds, referring to discussion about the Island. Of course, after a brief pause (because we know how little she enjoys long stretches of silence), there's another comment directed at the poor lone male of their travelling troupe. "I suspect we have a conversation waiting for us as well. And me with Io, still. Silly girl, taking off like that." Now she's just plain talking to herself, like a mental to-do list of things she's not sure she wants to do, but has to anyway.
Rilka bites at her lip with crooked teeth, despite Devaki's assurances, though she bobs her head into an obliging nod that makes her hair bounce about her shoulders and back. "As you like," she says, in a way that suggests she's being casual - or making a good attempt at it. "The Island." So she smiles, then, and hoists her basket higher upon her hip, trailing after the others. "Perhaps we all talk too much," she intones, at the end of Emmeline's rambling. "Too much talk."
"What else is there to do?" Devaki wonders aloud, as he makes a face at Emme's refusal to let him take her basket. Instead, he swings Riorde's as he paces the girls. "Unless we should all make a pact to not talk for a whole day." He pauses, then considers that. "A whole day. That'd be -- interesting," he concludes.
Interesting indeed. Emme might just burst at the seams if she had to go a whole day without saying a word. "..." Ironically enough, the idea just plain leaves her speechless. In no small part because she's sheepish at being called out on her babbling. "Swim." she suggests, finally, clearly unable to let the time go by without making the suggestion.
The idea of silence doesn't seem to bother Rilka, who says nothing to it: just raises her eyebrows placidly. If they like, the gesture seems to suggest. When Emmeline breaks the silence so quickly, however, she says, as she transfers her basket from one hip to the other, "We would work. And we would think. It would be-- peaceful." Beat. "It is harder to hear what the world is telling you, when you speak so much."
Devaki can't help it: he cants a sidelong look at Emmeline, and bursts out laughing when she finally speaks, even if it is only a single word. "I think Emme would burst. I'm game, though, if you want to do it." He nods to Rilka, then steps his pace up. "I'd better catch up to Riorde, I think," presumably since he's carrying her basket. With little more than a wave he hurries off after the girl.
Location: Fields, Western Island
Synopsis: Young people pick fruit. And complain. Mostly.
Fields, Western Island
They're not orderly fields, as such, but there's a certain organisation to the wide, flat area that has been turned over to farming. Different kinds of plants have been more or less segregated into different areas; most of them are not the kind of things that might be traditionally grown - but there are some wild grains, tubers, and even some peculiar little fruits.
There are no trees, and no greenery beyond what is being grown. The soil is rocky and shallow; there's as much actual stone here is there is soil. Without trees, the fields - if you can call them that - are open to the weather: it's possible to see out to the ocean, from here, and the beaches in between.
Whoever cleverly designed the fields ensured that there would be something harvestable pretty much the year round. Which is why on any given day there's at least a few people checking over the seasonal crop for newly ripened fruits or vegetables. This time it's a fruit of some sort that has to be plucked from terribly thorny brambles. It's a pain, literally, but the hardy plant is one of the few things that will grow in this climate and soil, so... "OW! If I get one more thorn I swear I'm ..." The clearing of someone's throat reminds Emme that there are little children around and she purses her lips in annoyance, finally straightening up so she can glance around and see who else is sharing the 'joy' of harvesting today.
Isn't it convenient how Rilka is almost always already gone for the day, when field duty comes up? Oh, she forgot. Oh, she had to go check on a trap. Oh-- /something/. A recent cut on her ankle, though, has slowed her down immensely, and perhaps that explains why she's amidst the brambles today, expression serene even if it's obvious to anyone she'd rather be elsewhere. "I'd rather just eat fish forever," she tells Emme, peering - all wide eyes and tangled hair - around a handful of thick branches to meet her gaze.
Normally, Devaki would be nowhere near the fields on any given day. He far prefers the wide-roving of fishing duties. However, he's been scolded by no less than three different elders that he's 'not to leave the area', what with the fairly obvious bandage that's currently wound around his head. He's scowling by the time he makes his way to the field, kicking rocks here and there, muttering under his breath as he nears those already working.
Riorde hates this particular chore just as much as most others, but she's soldiering through based on the idea that the quicker she picks, the sooner she can get of there and make a run for the cliffs or the shore, where space and a vista provides the illusion of freedom. Her expression is grim, set, as she pricks her fingers again and again, each one stained purple from the fruit amongst the brambles. "You'll eat fish forever anyway," she mutters, close enough to hear Rilka's remark.
"I don't blame you." Emme grumbles, peering over to the side to get a better lok at Rilka and her tangled hair. She's about to say more, and it's going to be a lecture on food variety and health, but remembering Io's voice accusng her of sounding like an elder causes her to snap her mouth shut. "You've got thorns in your hair, Ril. Lemme take them out before it gets wrose." Riorde's apt comment makes her snort back a laugh, one that turns into a sigh of agreement. "Wonder how fast we can fill our baskets and flee." she murmurs, trying to be conspiratorial. She's not very good at that. "Hey, how's the ah..." she points to the bandage when Devaki scowls and kicks his way close enough to them to hear.
Rilka hasn't seemed to notice the thorns in her hair, and blinks owlishly at Emmeline several times before she seems to grasp what the girl means. "Oh," she says. "All right." Her hair might as well be a bird's nest for the care she's taken with it - the thorns might well be the least of it. "We managed fine before we could grow things," she declares, more loudly, aimed to encompass the others. "When there was Thread, we ate only the bounty of the sea, and we survived." Barely. "We betray them."
Devaki pauses at the nearer side where the girls are working. His gaze shifts between each of them, before settling back on Emmeline at her question. The scowl deepens, and oddly, a flush along with it. "Fine," he says, misreading her meaning -- or maybe reading her meaning exactly right as he adds, "All fine." Absently, he begins scratching at his head, causing the bandage to go slightly wonky. He drops down onto a convenient rock that he can watch by, not yet making a move to wade in and help. "I don't know about you guys, but I don't care to eat only fish for the rest of my life," he comments, no doubt in response to Riorde's words. "Anyway, before /that/ we didn't eat just of the sea -- right Emme?" he looks towards her -- she's the one with the stories, after all.
Riorde bristles, tired and pressed into a job she doesn't like and, consequently, as prickly the bushes she's raiding for their fruit. "Bounty?" she echoes, derisive, and staring round her bush looks like she might go on, for a moment, to list hardships and malnutritions and injustices perceived and real. In the end, though, the girl is stony and silent, disappearing back behind her wall of thorns as she moves to side she hasn't tackled yet.
As if Emmeline would have the nerve to ask about -that- injury. In public. Horrors! Which is why his flush maeks her pinch the bridge of her nose like she's got a migraine coming on and then duck her head so that she can hide her expression behind Rilka's hair. "Right. We had a lot more variety before. The soil was more fertile. But, thread renders the soil inert. So, we've had to rely on what we were able to save and would regrow in such bad conditions. There were... birds of a kind too. But we couldn't keep them penned in, and..." her voice trails off, allowing imagination to take care of the imagery. Thorns are seemingly plucked from poor Rilka's hair to be tossed onto a patch of rock nearby. "Let me tell you, I think the worst is the seaweed though. It still tastes like fish, but it's stringy and bitter too." In fact, her shoulders give a shudder. Someone, please stop her. Everyone knows she can go on forever with stories and nonsense.
"The ocean kept us alive," insists Rilka, never one to concede a point - though you certainly won't see her turning her nose up at fruit or grains, whatever she says. If she flicks a curious glance between Emme and Devaki - easier said than done, of course, given the way the other girl ducks behind her - the expression doesn't linger. "I prefer to be alive. I wouldn't like there to be Thread, again."
Devaki's brows lift up, betraying surprise at Riorde's reaction. "What's with her?" he half-mouths towards Emmeline and Rilka, though the wall of brambles between then and Riorde doesn't really do much to prevent the words carrying, either. Then he's back to watching Emmeline pick through Rilka's hair with all the interest of a keen watcher, flatly ignoring Rilka's curious glance. He scratches at his bandage again. "Me either," on the topic of Thread, at least, he agrees fervently with Rilka on. "I don't think we'd survive, again."
Riorde can't fault Rilka so chooses not to respond - a silence that continues through Devaki's comment, though she most certainly hears it. She considers darting round the other side to whack him in the back of his head, only remembers the injury, and that's all that stops her. "I remember the birds." Hidden from view, Riorde softens. Her fingers still too as she allows herself the indulgence of an old memory. "The feathers."
"You okay over there, Riorde?" Emmeline wonders, just before she catches Dev's quiet question. "Got me." is mumbled back, and fortunately she never even notices Rilka's curious look. "The ocean did keep us alive, I agree. That doesn't mean we can't enjoy other varieties of food though, even if it's a pain in the ass to harvest it." Even she sounds annoyed at needing to pick through brambles. But, hey. "Have you let anyone look at that bandage today, or have you been stubborn about it?" she wonders next, speaking from behind Rilka's hair at Devaki, without even noticing the scratching. "Yes, the feathers. Wouldn't it be paradise to have a feather bed after all this time?"
No, Rilka has no idea what's up with Riorde, though she displays this only in a blank expression aimed at Devaki. Go figure. Even while her hair is detangled by Emme's hands, she's reaching up to grasp another fruit, though she gives it a long, vague glance rather than put it into her basket. "The feathers were pretty," she admits, sounding thoughtful. "And soft. All gone, now, though." Like a lot of things. "We had different huts, before the Thread came back. But then we all had to move. And the trees died. My father said we weren't supposed to have that Thread. It was supposed to be all gone, but it came back." This time, she does move her head, glancing up towards the sky as though she's afraid it's going to come back /right now/.
Devaki, too, looks a little wistful. "There used to be some feathers in the storage caves, but they rotted away ages ago. Maybe the birds will come back, though?" Now that's clearly wishful thinking, since if they were going to, they probably already would have. "Um." He scratches a little at the bandage again during Emmeline's question of him, then stops when he realizes what he's doing. "Not today, Grams checked it last night, though. Have you -- have you seen Io?" Rilka's words earn a long look, then he, too, squints upwards. Which is silly, of course, and something that he gives up doing immediately.
"Fine," Riorde answers, recovering into a short, brisk tone. She works her way around the bush, emerging on the other side. By the time she does, she's got a slightly guilty look about her, knowing that her brusqueness was unwarranted. "My Nan's not got any better," she gives in explanation, assuming that they know her grandmother hasn't been well; with this small of a community, the least news tends to get around. "Io? No."
Once she's done pulling thorns out of Rilka's hair, Emmeline reluctantly goes back to the chore of rooting through brambles for berries. "No, I was never able to find her." Guilt thoroughly laces her voice at that, soon mixed with sympathy for Riorde's Nan. "Sorry Riorde. I do hope she feels better soon." Of course, the question of where Io is starts to eat at her now that it's been asked, and she shortly becomes clearly agitated. "I should go looking for her again. There were a few places I never had the chance to check. And then there was teaching this morning, and..." Obviously any worry about thread or feathers can find no space to lodge in a mind already full of other things to be anxious about.
Having barely seemed to notice Emme's efforts, it's no wonder that Rilka barely seems to notice that the other girl is finished, either - not until the agitation makes her turn her head in that direction. "The island will protect her," she declares, having apparently no concept of why Iolene might be missing in the first place. "She cannot go far." Shifting her position so that she can reach for a higher fruit, she adds, "They should take your grandmother down to the rock pools, Riorde. Or up to the cliffs. So that the ocean might give her comfort and peace."
"Well, I saw her this morning at breakfast, but didn't really /see/ her," Devaki explains. "I mean, she just took off. But I thought you might've talked to her, is all. She's probably -- just fishing, or something, but --" he shrugs, and then looks at Rilka, frowning notably. "The island," he starts to echo, then shakes his head, like he thinks better of perusing that here. His version of sympathy for Riorde is a faint grimace, but he doesn't say anything. He leaves that to the other girls.
"She'll be fine." Riorde tries for a confidence she doesn't feel and once again ends up sounding abrupt. She shifts the basket she's been holding at her hip, pulling it round to the front and holding it now with both hands. "Maybe," she says, looking to Rilka, quiet a moment. "She'd probably like that." The acknowledgment is about as close to appreciative as Rio is likely to get. "I've finished," she announces then, and indeed her basket is full. "Let you know if I see her." Io. Riorde looks curious, briefly, but doesn't ask what they want with her.
"Right, she can't go far." Emmeline echoes, sounding decidedly unconvinced. "Thanks, Riorde." she adds, finally able to brush the last of the twigs off of her hands when she finishes up just behind the brunette. "Just a misunderstanding from the other day. That's all. Something I wanted to clear up with her." she explains, seeing the curious look. "Maybe you should carry the baskets since you didn't do any of the picking, Devaki." As if he's going to get away unascathed.
"The Island protects us all," Rilka intones, glancing at Devaki; apparently, she thinks this finishes his thought. She even smiles at Riorde, apparently pleased that her idea has been accepted. All hail the ocean! All hail Rilka not being completely disregarded! Her basket is not quite as full, but she still steps away from the trees, obviously intending to follow the others. Cheerfully, "Iolene will be fine. She will learn." Learn what? She doesn't exactly specify.
Pointedly reaching up to adjust his bandage -- apparently Devaki's going to milk that for all it's worth -- he rises all the same. "I'll help. Sure hope I don't get dizzy and fall down on the way back, though," he says, conversationally. He steps over towards the grouping, reaching out with the intention of taking Riorde's, at least. It's probably his way of showing sympathy. "Rilka," he says, casually, glancing over at her, "We really should talk." There's something ominous in the way he says it, like the word should have a capital t. /Talk/.
"I think you'll be fine. You didn't have a problem yesterday when you were rolling around wrestling with your friend despite blood dropping down your face." Emme points out. "Unless you're referring to your other injury." A shrewd bit of a smirk appears on her lips then before she forces it back and affects an entirely innocent and bland expression. Of course, if he needs to speak with Rilka, then Emme will step up to walk out of the fields alongside Riorde. "If there's any songs your Nan would like to hear, I'd be glad to sing for her. I don't often get to use that particular talent. But some find it soothing."
Riorde, devil's advocate, spins out an alternative to the island as protective prison. "Unless she swims out to the next one along." She's perfectly happy to surrender her basket to Devaki. "You should go first so if you fall, at least it's not on any of us," she suggests, a smile materialising when Emme takes up in a similar vein. She rolls her eyes at Rilka, but at least she's turning away by this point so it is not so terribly obvious. "Could ask - she likes the one that goes --" And Riorde proceeds to hum a few bars as she heads out of the fields beside Emmeline.
Rilka, in all her natural obliviousness, manages to miss Riorde's eye roll; truth be told, she completely freezes on receipt of Devaki's remark, her stance akin to that of a caged animal. "Talk?" she asks, glancing around wildly, from Devaki to Emmeline to Riorde, to-- anything. Everything. "What should we talk about? Why should we talk?"
Devaki makes a bit of a face at Emmeline, more to the latter point than the former. However he does seem to concede the point by offering to take her basket, too. "About the Island," is all Devaki says, like it should be mysterious enough to grab Rilka's attention, without scaring her. At least, that's his intention. "Later though," he adds, "I should get these back."
"That's alright, I've got it." Emmeline replies, glancing over to give Rilka an encouraging smile. "Sounds interesting." she adds, referring to discussion about the Island. Of course, after a brief pause (because we know how little she enjoys long stretches of silence), there's another comment directed at the poor lone male of their travelling troupe. "I suspect we have a conversation waiting for us as well. And me with Io, still. Silly girl, taking off like that." Now she's just plain talking to herself, like a mental to-do list of things she's not sure she wants to do, but has to anyway.
Rilka bites at her lip with crooked teeth, despite Devaki's assurances, though she bobs her head into an obliging nod that makes her hair bounce about her shoulders and back. "As you like," she says, in a way that suggests she's being casual - or making a good attempt at it. "The Island." So she smiles, then, and hoists her basket higher upon her hip, trailing after the others. "Perhaps we all talk too much," she intones, at the end of Emmeline's rambling. "Too much talk."
"What else is there to do?" Devaki wonders aloud, as he makes a face at Emme's refusal to let him take her basket. Instead, he swings Riorde's as he paces the girls. "Unless we should all make a pact to not talk for a whole day." He pauses, then considers that. "A whole day. That'd be -- interesting," he concludes.
Interesting indeed. Emme might just burst at the seams if she had to go a whole day without saying a word. "..." Ironically enough, the idea just plain leaves her speechless. In no small part because she's sheepish at being called out on her babbling. "Swim." she suggests, finally, clearly unable to let the time go by without making the suggestion.
The idea of silence doesn't seem to bother Rilka, who says nothing to it: just raises her eyebrows placidly. If they like, the gesture seems to suggest. When Emmeline breaks the silence so quickly, however, she says, as she transfers her basket from one hip to the other, "We would work. And we would think. It would be-- peaceful." Beat. "It is harder to hear what the world is telling you, when you speak so much."
Devaki can't help it: he cants a sidelong look at Emmeline, and bursts out laughing when she finally speaks, even if it is only a single word. "I think Emme would burst. I'm game, though, if you want to do it." He nods to Rilka, then steps his pace up. "I'd better catch up to Riorde, I think," presumably since he's carrying her basket. With little more than a wave he hurries off after the girl.