Logs:The Strange One
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| RL Date: 11 April, 2011 |
| Who: Iolene, Raum, Rilka |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Iolene and Rilka meet the newcomer. |
| Where: Beach, Western Island |
| When: Day 11, Month 6, Turn 25 (Interval 10) |
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| Iolene sits on a large boulder that sits out in the waters, her toes being lapped at by briny salt water. In her hands, the worn lines of a net turn, calloused fingers unfazed by catches along its length. It's a rare sunny day, the heat beating down upon The Beach, drying up whatever dampness lingers on Io's clothes from her short swim out to where she is. Not far from where Iolene sits, just at the edge of the rock-pools that nestle about the cliffs, Rilka leans closes her eyes, murmurs something beneath her breath, and then uses her wooden club to kill the large crustacean she's just drawn from out of the water. It's apparently the last one she needs, for after stowing it away in her rough sack, she steps into the water, holding the bag beside her as she half wades, half swims, back in the direction of the beach. Out of her periphery vision, she watches and notes, "Watch out," in a lazy call, the practiced pitch relying on the wind to carry her low voice most of the way to Rilka. "When I was swimming out here, there was a school of stingers somewhere in that area." Stingers, the Pernese equivalent of sting rays. The braided blonde head cocks its way to the side to look upon the brunette, though the rest of her stooped frame doesn't move. After a moment, her chin finds a resting place on the top of her knee. It's not been so long since Raum turned up, and the turmoil of a new person is still fresh on the minds of many. Is he really shipwrecked, like he says? Are they so close to the shipping lanes after all? Is he some terrible exile, infiltrating their peaceful existance? For his part, the former guardsman has been keeping fairly low profile, settling in, doing as he's asked, and trying to take the measure of this strange little colony. Today, he turns up along the shoreline near the two girls, plainly watching their efforts. "I know," says Rilka, kicking off from the ground beneath her once the water gets too deep to wade through. She swims with practiced ease, of course, her long hair streaming behind her like seaweed. As per usual, her tone is both vague and somewhat condescending. Letting the bag bob in front of her, with the help of one of her hands to push it along, and keep it from sinking, she turns her attention towards the share. And then, to Iolene: "The strange one watches us." The strange one. Maybe it's the first time Iolene's heard this designation, or even the first time she's actually seen Raum-in-the-flesh as opposed to Raum-of-gossip, that she favors him with a much more penetrating look, taking in the ruddy hair and freckled skin. Her lips quirk to one side, the smile for Rilka slipping fast. "Maaaaybe," says the younger woman, her vowels stretched as if considering some interesting thoughts, "He seems something he likes." Not offput by the condescension, Io tosses that head of hers and flashes Rilka a quick smile across the waters. Meanwhile, those hands of hers keep busy, working through her nets to ascertain their worth, before they're cast out to blanket the shoreline waters. The quicksilver smile disappears as she dives fluidly into the water, presumably to secure her nets, and then reappears closer to the shore where Raum sits. To say she stares openly, with an embarrassing frankness, is probably unnecessary. He is, after all, the strange one. The strange one hears, or maybe he doesn't; either way his watchful expression doesn't much change. He lets both girls go about their gathering otherwise unmolested, until Iolene resurfaces so close to him. Then his attention zeroes in on her, Rilka spared for the moment. "Hello," he says. "They told me I should see if you needed help hauling in the catch." Rilka doesn't seem especially bothered by Iolene's remarks. Indeed, she barely glances at the other girl, and barely even seems to notice her departure - though her own path through the water takes her in a similar direction. She's slower, but apparently intentionally: she keeps her head out of the water, moving in a fluid, relaxed kind of fashion. She keeps her silence, as Raum speaks to the younger girl, though she watches intently, her expression utterly unreadable. Io's dark blonde hair glistens for the seawater sluicing through it. Maybe there's even a piece of seaweed caught behind one ear. Instead of responding, the young woman splashes about, sending an arc of water to the shore where Raum sits. "You swim?" is asked dubiously. Can he, really? Raum's mouth quirks crookedly at that question, and he steps back from the splashing like the water will make him melt if it touches him. "I'm from Igen," he answers dryly, which should be answer enough. /Now/, Rilka speaks. "Igen." She's stepping out of the water, now, water draining in torrents from her skirt and blouse, her long - now tangled - hair. "What is that?" There's no guile in the way she says it; indeed, there's barely even any emotion. She drops her bag onto the sand, just beyond where the waves creep, and /still/ she's eyeing Raum without embarrassment. Rilka's older. Rilka's all like an adult with her cool calm. Rilka can handle it. This allows the less cool and calm Iolene to just watch and study this Igen person, though by now, she's pulling herself out of the water, her clothing dripping, and sprawls herself on the sands by Raum. There's no such thing as a personal bubble in Iolene's world. All right, so maybe it isn't answer enough. For just a moment, Raum's brows go up, his only indication of surprise; then he shakes his head. Islanders. Know-nothings. "Desert." Beat. "Lots of this, none of that." He nods first to the sand, then the ocean that surrounds them. He doesn't exactly flinch away from Iolene when she sprawls alongside him, but there's definitely a long look over her--all of her, wet clothes and sticky sand and all that. Of course, Rilka gets much the same once-over as she emerges from the water. Good thing they're none of them too self-concious about all this looking. Rilka does not sprawl, not near the other two, not even further away; she stands. She stays right where she is, letting her damp clothes cling to her body, her damp hair add more dampness to those damp clothes. She obviously notes that surprise in Raum, but doesn't comment on it. "Desert," she repeats, like this, too, is a new concept (which it probably is). "You have no ocean. No life." Which actually makes her sound sad. Rilka with any kind of emotion is enough to pique Iolene's interest, if briefly. But that moment, too, passes, and even quicker afterwards the strange one begins to lose its hold on Io. "If you need swimming lessons, you know where to look." Sprawling done, the tall, lean-built girl gets back to her feet in one powerful push and begins to saunter away: her work for the day is done. "See you back home, Rilk-aaaah." "Plenty of life. More life than this," says Raum, with a small shake of his head again. "Less risk of smothering yourself in sand, unless you're just stupid." Because apparently water just has it in for people. "That'd be... anybody, right?" he answers Iolene, casting a look up at her as she stands. It's a good angle. And for all his purported errand he does not go to help her haul home the catch after all. Rilka marks Iolene's departure with a serious nod, allowing her gaze to slip from the Igenite to the islander in a smooth, understated movement. "Iolene," she says, which presumably counts as a farewell. Crossing her arms in front of her body, she turns back to Raum. "No," she tells him, firmly. "No Life." Not by her terms, at the very least. "The water is everything. From everything; to everything. Without it--" Such a sad shake of the head. To this, Raum doesn't quite seem to know what to say. He's quiet for several seconds, just looking at the island girl, and finally he concludes, not so much a question, "They left you out in the sun too long as a kid, didn't they." "You do not understand our ways," says Rilka, in response; she's apparently unperturbed. "You will know. In time. It is the way of things." She doesn't seem to be much of a smiler: she regards him, still, evenly, and without emotion. "Why have you come here? You disrupt us." "Wasn't exactly my choice," Raum points out, eyes narrowing slightly at this line of questioning. "Told you, shipwreck. Washed up, got lucky I stumbled on you people. Not much more to it than that. Gonna make something of it?" Because girls that probably weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, as Rilka is now, are so prone to making trouble. Rilka's unblinking eyes, her unreadable expression; these might make it seem like she is looking /through/ Raum, seeing all his secrets. Even if that's impossible. "What should I make of it? You are here. You will have to learn." It might be an intentional misunderstanding of the intent of his words; it might not. "We will teach you. There are no-- deserts here." With Rilka hovering over him, Raum frowns, and he gets to his feet again to look down at her. Also a good angle. "Listen here, girl--" But a glance over his shoulder toward the main body of the settlement cuts short that statement and the slight clench of a fist at his side. Instead, he settles for, "Sure there's a lot we could all learn around here." Rlka? Still unperturbed. Except: "Indeed there is. So much to learn. To share." And then? She takes up her bag, and more or less floats away, off up the path towards the settlement. Weirdo. |
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