Difference between revisions of "Logs:Talk of Marriage"

It's getting on towards evening -- but still light enough that people are moving around the island without the aid of glows or torches. This is the time of day that Devaki would normally be working to clean whatever fish were hauled from the catch of the day, however in the time since the storm he's been missing the fishing in favor of his other, less prolific duty -- seeing to the emotional wellbeing of the camp, no easy task in the wake of the deaths. Devaki's settled himself cross-legged near the river's edge, a dripping pair of shorts indicating his recent activity, however he's stopped now, and appears to be intent on watching Rukbat set.

Jaques, however, has been at the fish-cleaning, and while that's all done now, and he's sent one of the younger boys scurrying back to camp with the meal while Jaques himself cleans up the shore. He dumps some water on the spot where he'd been working to rinse the leavings back into the river, then scuffs the sand up there once it's all washed away, just to be sure. Once it's taken care of, he starts back toward the camp, passing Devaki along the way. "Cousin."

Devaki is oddly slow in reacting to the greeting, finally glancing up, brow furrowed -- though that clears as he sees who it is. "Hey, cousin," he greets, easily, giving a flashed smile for Jacques, then a wider one, suddenly, "I hear congratulations are in order. Good news for you and Evie. She must be thrilled. As," dryly, "I'm sure Cason is, too."

Phedre heads in from Settlement, Western Island. Phedre has arrived.

"Oh." Jaques pauses and looks sheepish, ducking his head; but all the same, his mouth quirks into a smile. "Yes. I mean, he is. And we are. You know." He grimaces, then steps over beside Devaki and drops down to a seat beside him on the sand. "Does everyone have to say that? Or can I just assume they're thinking it and we all move on now?"

Devaki shakes his head, but he's grinning all the same. "Everyone has to say it. It's good news. You know we need that." He makes a slight face, then sobers up, returning gaze to the impending sunset. After a beat, he asks, as neutrally as he can manage, "What's it like? Being married, I mean?"

Soft footfalls are what lead Phedre down to the river, her dark eyes unfocused in the aftermath of being lost in thought. Her long, dark braid swings freely down her back with each footfall as the fading light from what sun remains casts sharp shadows across her features. From one hand swings a lantern, old and rusted, with the tell-tale creeeeeak, creeeeeeak that comes from rusted metal. A small flickering light is set within, and weak enough to be lost in the fading daylight. By night, it will be the small beacon to guide her home. Dangling from the other hand is a heavy bucket, obviously intended to gather fresh water. With eyes focused upon the path ahead of her, she does not immediately see the pair conversing.

A brief nod agrees with that, but Jaques is watching the river, and then Phedre as she starts down the bank herself. He seems content enough in the silence for the moment, but then Devaki has to go and ask such a loaded question. Jaques looks around at him, mouth pulling downward. "What kind of question is that?" he asks, rather warily.

Devaki doesn't note Phedre's passing, fixed as he is on the view, and pointedly not looking at the man next to him. "It's.." he hesitates, noting the wary tone in his cousin's voice, and shrugs his shoulders. "Iolene," he says the girl's name with a hint of amusement, "Tells me I should get married, before it's too late. Because none of us know what might happen. She made me promise, actually," he adds, with an odd kind of twist of lips.

Phedre pauses to shift the bucket's weight, rolling the handle up her palm to be resting more at the curve of her wrist rather than in the curl of her fingers. Finally, dark eyes alight upon the pair and for a moment, she hesitates. Still, not one to shy away, the girl straightens her spine and walks with purpose to the river with a murmured, "Excuse me," when she's close enough. Still within hearing range, she gets to the water and sets down her lantern. Taking her time, she slowly dips the bucket in, perhaps on purpose to over-hear their conversation.

That answer must satisfy, because there's a slight relaxing of Jaques' shoulders, and he shoots another glance to Phedre, whom he hails with a lifted hand. "She would," he says of Iolene, going so far as to quirk a half-smile. "But who are you going to marry?"

Casually, Devaki greets Phedre with a nod, and, "Hey, Phedre," though his attention is fixed mostly on Jaques now. The response, 'She would', earns a knowing laugh. "She grew up quickly. I remember she used to tag around after us when we used to climb the cliffs." He's silent a beat, then wryly, "Not her. She was very -- clear, about that, in her Iolene-way. I don't know, honestly. It's -- tricky. You know," he adds, with a vague sort of gesture.

"Evening," Phedre says, voice low in the quiet at the end of the day. She dips her fingers into the river's water in a brief moment of luxury before sitting back on her heels and turning the pair. "She's very clear about what?" comes the inevitable query, having caught part-ways of the conversation. Hands come to rest lightly on the edges of her bucket while the lantern flickers like a feeble, lost exile beside her.

"Tricky," agrees Jaques, his mouth turning wry. "You'd know better than any of us, I suppose. And it seems... awkward, to me, to be the one plucking a name out of the air: this one--this one is distant enough from my blood; I'll take her." Because certainly it's not about love, not here. He hesitates, though, as Phedre takes a more active role in their conversation, and he shoots a glance to Devaki, apparently leaving it to him to explain this one.

"It was much easier when /I/ wasn't one of the names," Devaki agrees fervently in an undertone. He makes a kind of face as Jaques looks to him to answer Phedre, and with a twist of lips, says, "Iolene didn't want to be matched with Xoami. She was very, very clear on that. Personally, I think they'd do well together, but they'd probably kill each other before the end of things. And I think Xoami would lose. Since he's my best friend, I can't do that to him," his voice has an light-heartedness by the end, tipping head upwards to include Phedre in the conversation.

If Phedre has heard Devaki's fervent undertone, it shows not in her face. Eyebrows only lift minutely at this shared bit of information. "Hmmm, indeed." If that's a touch of a smile of amusement, she dips her head quickly before it can be discerned. "Talk of marriage. Lucky for me, I have not come to that cross roads." Her tone is a light musing, though perhaps disguises a more thoughtful approach to the subject. Darting brown eyes glance up to look once at both Jaques and Devaki.

Jaques wonders, quite hoenstly, "Who wouldn't she kill? That trident--." No more needs saying, though he's still smiling faintly even. A glance to Phedre, and he notes, "You're young, yet. As young as our Io, I think; weren't you and her and my brother all born the same turn or so?"

"Haven't you?" is Devaki's oh-so-arch response to Phedre, brow lifting thoughtfully. "You're about of age, I'd imagine. Not that," he allows with a smile, "Any of the elders have asked about you. But I'm sure it's just a matter of time." The comment from his cousin about Iolene earns barely stifled laughter from the blond as he rubs a hand over his hair. "I know. Sometimes," he lowers his voice, conspiratorial, "She scares even me."

"Not officially yet. My father is..." Phedre waves a hand, pushing herself to her feet with a tired sigh. "... romancing possibilities." This comes with the wrinkle of her nose at the same time she scoops up her lantern and hauls up the bucket full of water. "No, I think it's just my father for now." She does offer up a smile for the two and says, "I'd best get this water back to mother. Good evening." With a final parting headbob, the girl starts to wander back up to the settlement, her body angled slightly to the side to counterbalance the weight of the bucket. The hand carrying the lantern holds it high, providing what sparse light is needed on her trek back.

"See you," Jaques tells Phedre, as the younger girl heads back to camp on her own. He waits until she's on down the path before glancing back at Devaki. He says then, in answer to the first question of the night, "I don't know the answer to give you. You're not me; she--whoever she'll be--isn't Evie."

The offhand comment from Phedre earns a low laugh from Devaki, before he says, "Well, if you've particular preferences, whisper them to me before anyone approaches me. I might be able to help you out," he offers, with an easy grin. He lifts a hand to Phedre by way of farewell, though his attention has already shifted back to his cousin. He makes a face at the answer, then shakes his head. "You're lucky, man," he says, kind of enviously.

"Am I?" wonders Jaques, his lips pulling into a frown as he studies Devaki.

Devaki seems surprised by the response, turning to glance at Jaques' face -- or what he can see of it in the fast fading light. "You seem it," he clarifies, though there's a hesitancy there. "Evie's really nice."

"She's sweet, and good. We don't fight, but we were best friends, before." Jaques lifts his shoulders slightly. He's watching Devaki intently, the moreso for the darkening hour. "But--I should rather have done more poorly for a wife, and kept my friend. I suppose there's others that would see it differently, though."

Devaki looks more puzzled than anything, though as Jaques talks, his expression clears and he nods, slowly. "Many would wish for that same thing. Sometimes that's the way love comes," there's a sympathetic shake of his head. "I'm sorry to hear it. I never realized. I guess I thought that you two would just--" he trails off. "I know it's probably not much comfort, but at least no one can accuse you of not doing your duty to the Blood."

Jaques shakes his head, wry. "This way maybe in a score of years I'll have friend and wife both?" Beat. "And a son grown, or daughter, or plurals of each. --I don't know how you choose these things; I'm just glad not to have a hand in it."

"Stranger things have happened," Devaki grins, "I mean, Evali's more the one to ask about what it's like, for the parents, but I've seen couples change quite a bit, after they have children. Normally for the better." He runs another hand through his hair. "It's--" he hesitates. "It's actually very simple. It's not personal, at all. It's numbers. Degrees of separation, factoring in the strength of the Blood. It's just -- numbers. It sounds cold to say so, but--" he shrugs.

"Only numbers, and degrees, and lives," Jaques agrees, casual. He repeats, "I'm glad not to have a hand in it. My own duty is enough for my shoulders."

"I'll be glad to get back to fishing," is all Devaki says of that, pointedly neutral again. The comment about duty earns a twitch of brows, and the faintest tip of head. Instead of responding, he rises, leaning down with the intention of casually slapping a hand against Jacques' shoulder. "Everyone can only manage what they can manage, cousin. Sounds funny, but it's true."

"Not so funny at all, really," is Jaques' take on it, his head tilting up at Devaki's touch. He doesn't rise himself, though, apparently content to linger on the riverbank a while loner.

Rather than responding, Devaki just nods, turning to make his way back towards the bonfire of the settlement, where the scents of the evening meal are beginning to spread.