Difference between revisions of "Logs:Not The Last You Will Hear"

Shimana doesn't venture far from the candidate barracks these days - at least, not very frequently. Today finds her resting against the hearth, with naught but the rug beneath her and her cane beside her. Her eyes are half-closed while she waits for the young exile boy to return from his assigned task.

Whatever K'del was doing when the boy found him, he evidently put it aside pretty quickly: now, he appears trailing the child, keeping his usually long stride slower and more careful. The expression on his face is unreadable, but not /especially/ friendly, particularly as he follows into the Common Room, and catches his first glimpse of Shimana. Despite that, his tone when he addresses the exile women is polite enough: "You wanted to see me?"

"Shimana, Shimana! I found him!" The little boy is exuberant in a task completed, dashing up to stand proudly before the elder. She rouses somewhat, offering a maternal smile. "Well done, Anile. Run along inside to your lessons, now." Her expression hardens into something distinctly less friendly when she turns towards K'del, and she struggles to lift her wasted figure to her feet. "Yes. You're the one they call Weyrleader? The one making all the decisions about my people?"

Bristling at the difference in tone between Shimana's interactions with Anile and with K'del himself, the Weyrleader fastens a lengthy stare upon the fragile woman, and makes no move to assist her. "The one who has taken responsibility for your people," he corrects, just softly. "Yes. That's me. How can I help you?"

It's doubtful Shimana would accept the help; once to her feet, her breath rasping a bit in lungs damaged by illness, she folds her arms across her chest in a posture that once might have been imposing. "The one responsible for taking us from our homes." Two can play at this game! "You may address me as Elder Shimana. I wish to discuss with you the terrible rumors I have heard regarding our children - especially our orphans."

"The ones saving you from the storm that destroyed your island and everything on it," puts in K'del, not content to let Shimana have the last word on /that/ account. He regards her levelly, cheeks only faintly flushed with what is probably irritation; it's been a long couple of days. Weeks. Months. "What of your children. Your orphans?"

Shimana raises an eyebrow in mute eloquence at K'del's insistence; her look is the sort a mother would give a sulky teenager. "Our children, yes. They're spending too much time away from their families. I hear there is even talk of giving them away to others from /your/ Weyr? What did they call it-- fostering? Well." She jerks her chin in a sharp denial. "We won't have it."

K'del's blush deepens, but not, it seems with embarrassment. "Shimana," he says, bypassing the title, but managing to sound at least faintly respectful. "Got no intention of stealing your children, if that's what you're getting it. The children need caregivers: if your people can provide them, then that's all well and good, and I've no problem. If they can't, we have fosters who would give them love and attention, and raise them well. But regardless, the children will attend lessons, and do chores. They're part of the weyr, now."

"And why must they be a part of your Weyr? Let us be on our way, and it will be no issue of concern to you. We will return to our home and raise our children in their proper traditions." Shimana remains cooly calm, poker-face in place. "We need not be a burden on you; we will happily take ours and go." Never mind what the other elders might or might not have said; this is Shimana's gambit, now.

K'del's answer is quiet, not that much above a whisper - though it still manages to be firm. "There is nothing left on that island for you to go back to. There is nothing /for/ your young people but a cold, hungry death." He afixes his blue-eyed gaze on Shimana squarely, his expression set sharply. "Your views are not those of others on your council. /They/ seem content enough to be here. /They/ have even encouraged your young people to Stand for our eggs."

"The ocean has always provided for us; it will do so again! We may not live in your-- your decadent luxury, but it was enough for us!" K'del has, apparently, touched off a sore point in Shimana for her voice goes strident. "The council is sick and weak and seduced by your soft mainlander ways. You let me worry about their minds. Standing for your eggs, to be consumed by your monsters? Indeed."

That last bit is enough to actually set off K'del's temper, his nostrils flaring though he manages to bite back most of it. "Dragons do not /eat/ people, for Faranth's sake. We're offering your people a /chance/. Maybe we can work out some kind of arrangement for the rest of you, after the hatching, I don't know. But for now? You live /here/, and while you live here? You live in /my/ weyr, and I decide these things. I don't intend for us to steal your children, Shimana, but I'm damn well going to give them the chance at a proper life, if they so choose."

"And why do we live here? What if we prefer to live somewhere else? You will hold us as prisoners, like our ancestors were held." But by the end, she's dismissive-- this is an argument Shimana has heard many times before. "They don't need to /eat/ them to consume the lives of our young people. You may have those you have already seduced; I won't fight those who have turned their backs on the ocean. It will have its due, in time." A burst of hacky coughs interrupts her tirade, though she still manages to choke out, "You will leave our-- young ones-- to me."

"Your /council/ has voted to stay," bites out K'del, barely restraining himself. It's been a looooong couple of days. "/You/ don't get to make these decisions on your own. Frankly, I don't recognise your authority. You and the rest of the adults will need to vacate the candidate dorms. We need that accommodation for our /candidates/. I'll have Giorda find you replacement quarters." There's a beat, as he gives her a withering, unimpressed stare. "I've got no time for your sort. Good day."

Convenient, running away while Shimana has barely the breath to protest! "This is-- not the last-- you will hear!" she forces out inbetween gasps for breath and choked coughs. "Cannot have--- our /children/."

K'del glances back, and when he does, his expression is pitying. "Know it must be hard, to get used to the new way of things-- but you're going to have to. Good day, Shimana." And then he's gone. But he apparently means it about Giorda: anyone not of an appropriate age to Stand is, in the aftermath, provided new quarters /elsewhere/. Away from the young and impressionable. Literally.