Logs:A Pickle
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| RL Date: 6 June, 2011 |
| Who: Madilla, Warucori |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Madilla and Warucori discuss the ethics of the exiles. |
| Where: Living Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
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| It's been a morning full of gossip and little work. Warucori sits at a table full of dragonriders who have been busily chatting and speculating about the recent discovery. Currently her tablemates are making their departure, gathering up jackets with groans about having to do actual work, "Well, if I hear anything else, I'll certainly let you know." She's not making a move to join the others in departing though, lucky her to have a window of free time. Not all the weyr has such a luxury; Madilla enters the caverns from the bowl looking windswept and tired, still carrying a pack over one shoulder. It's miserably foggy outside, but she looks actually /wet/, as though she's been somewhere rainy. Now, having peeled off outer layers, she heads for the serving tables to fetch herself an oversized mug of tea, and carries it towards the tables without paying a great deal of attention where she's headed. Warucori gets up as the last rider departs from the table and begins to gather up the mugs and dishes that the others left, because she has the time to tidy up. Amused she hums as she cleans up and looks up to spot Madilla and her wet condition, "Goodness, want to come over here and have a seat?" The table is big enough and now nearly vacant and it's close by the fire to help with drying out. "Has it started raining?" Being addressed wakes Madilla from her reverie, though she looks up at Warucori in genuine surprise nonetheless. A faint pink warms her cheeks, but she accepts the offer without hesitation, bobbing her head in thanks as she sets down her mug, and, more carefully, the pack she's still carrying. Once situated; "Thank you, Warucori. I--" She hesitates, expression considering. "No, it hasn't started raining. Not here. I was out at the, er," lowered voice, "island, this morning." The Island. Warucori's eyes glint and she leans in, looking excited, "Really? How is it? I have been hearing /all/ about it." She rolls her eyes, "My group found them and it happened to be the night that I skipped out going searching." Talk about bad luck right? Forgetting about moving the dishes to the bin, she sits back down so she can pick Madilla's brain for details. Madilla seems distinctly embarrassed by this enthusiasm, though she surely can't have expected anything less. She wraps both hands about her mug and settles back, silent and looking thoughtful for a moment, before she can open her mouth. "I don't even know if we're supposed to talk about it. It's-- they've been living on next to nothing, out there. They have almost no herbs for medicines, almost no sources of food beyond the sea. No new clothes." It seems to upset her. "Their-- weather person? I'm not sure. Seems to think there's a storm coming, a really big one." And this, in turn, makes her look worried. Warucori notices Madilla's discomfort and averts her eyes, blushing as she realizes that she might be bringing up a topic the healer isn't comfortable with. "I don't mean to pry, I'm just shocked and amazed and...I've never heard anything like this." The radiant excitement fades at the information about their living conditions comes out, "How awful for them. They didn't have anything? No animals for food? For how long? Why can't we do more for them?" She chews on a cookie she was going to discard as she watches the healer in concern. She might feel sheepish about digging for details, but it's not going to stop her. "No, no," murmurs Madilla, releasing one hand from her mug to wave away that concern. "I don't mind. It's-- I don't think any of us have ever heard of such a thing. Only in tales. Can you imagine it: whole generations growing up knowing nothing else." She pauses in her retelling to blow on her tea, though apparently decides that it is still too hot to drink. "They were eager to tell me they'd been there something like eighty turns. With no animals, no." And, with obvious frustration, "I know that they're exiles, by rights. That's what seems to be the case, anyway. And maybe there's some question of why they were put there, I'm not sure. But these people didn't do anything wrong: if anyone did, it was their ancestors. I don't think people should be punished because of what their parents did; do you?" Warucori gives her head a swift, firm shake at the question of these people's punishment, "I think it goes above and beyond any punishment I have ever heard of. Even criminals who get put to hard labor for breaking laws get to see their family and get square meals and a safe place to live. Out there in the sea on those islands? By the first egg, I thought I was going to freeze just flying over and searching and they live out in that with nothing but wits about them?" She sighs softly, "I do wonder though, just who their families crossed to end up like that. Too awful to even think about the people who thought that would be a good idea." Her nose crinkles in distaste, "Do you think seacrafters shipped them off on the island and left them?" Because dragonriders wouldn't help with such a plot right? All of a sudden, Madilla seems less certain. "Exile - it /is/ a punishment. I don't think it happens often, but... didn't that Lord Holder at Fort get exiled? Esra-- I don't remember his name." Her brow has furrowed in the recollection of it, though none of this does anything to ease her mind: "I don't think the children should have to pay, whatever it was." She takes a long sip of her tea, then sets the mug down in front of her. "I hope we do the right thing and bring them back. I'm sure we will. We must, right? Now that we know that they're there-- you can't just leave people like that." Warucori frowns, "Did they? Do a lord? Do they keep their eyes on him too? Does he live there all on his own?" She makes a face, "I'm clearly not up on the world beyond Reaches these days." Watching the healer she gives a nod of her head in agreement, "It does seem unfair for later generations, but as you say, if exile is the punishment, how does one put a timeline on it? Do you know who is looking into the history? I haven't heard that part but I assume the Weyrleaders are speaking with the holders. Right?" "A Lord and some others, I think," says Madilla, though she sounds uncertain, admitting, then, "I don't keep close tabs on it myself, to be honest. I imagine the idea is that they're left out they're and they're just supposed to--" Die. But she can't quite bring herself to say it, and takes several hasty sips of her tea as if to wash out her mouth from the idea. For the rest, she shakes her head. "I've no idea. I suppose they must be. I'm glad I'm not in their shoes. My gut instinct is to rescue them all, but I'm sure it's far more complicated than that. Warucori shudders at the concept of the poor people, even that exiled Lord, out there without aid. "I wouldn't want to have to be the one to make the choice either. I can see all levels of trouble this can cause. If we lend these people a hand, which I think we should, how will other exiles be handled in the future? " Letting out a huff of breath she watches the healer struggle with it, "As much as I'd like to see them, I'm glad I'm not caught in the middle like you also. It must be hard to leave them after going to tend to them. And you said there is a storm brewing?" Madilla gives a slow and thoughtful nod. "It would set a precedence, wouldn't it? That exile doesn't necessarily have to be forever-- or that we'll automatically pardon the children of exiles. Or." The possibilities, given Madilla's expression, seem to be endless. Breaking off from that cogitation, she turns a rueful smile onto the bluerider, letting it linger as she reclaims her mug and takes another sip from it. "It is hard," she agrees. "I want to do more for them; all I can really do, for now, is tend to the most obvious things. They all need proper physicals, though, and supplies. They were telling me that there was a storm a few months ago, and that two girls drowned. Some of them are terrified; this storm is supposed to be even bigger." Warucori flashes a small smile as Madilla nails it on the head, nodding in response, "Could be a pickle. Or, if they, that is their family, was innocent of any wrong-doing, what sort of justice can be had?" Chewing on the last of the cookie as she mulls this over, it's not until the news of the deaths that she gasps, softly though, "I had not heard that part." A hand lifts to her throat, fingers tapping along there in agitation, "Those poor people. And what can they think of us for not doing more? Goodness, eighty turns out there right?" She can't even get her head around it, it boggles the mind. "Justice," murmurs Madilla; the thought has apparently given her pause. Her mug is empty, now, and she sets it down in front of her again, fingers idly playing with the ceramic handle. "I get the impression that there have been many deaths, that it's not an easy life. But I think these, in particular, loom large - so recent, I suppose. And young. Just girls." The healer purses her mouth and then, firmly, declares, "I'm sure we will do the right thing by them. It's just a matter of understanding the facts, first. They're all going to be fine, I'm sure of it." The tall bluerider looks sad at the news of the deaths being young people, "So sad for them. Well, here is hoping the storm changes course so they don't have to deal with that on top of everything else." She stretches out her legs and slowly gets to her feet. "Well, if I can be any help, let me know. I'm itching to see them, and Zax and I can carry goods as well as anyone else." Missed out on the discovery so she's bucking for a chance to get in on some part of the action. Madilla's agreement is earnest, even determined. "I hope so, too. It's the last thing they need right now." Her expression is troubled, but not so much that she can't spare another smile for the bluerider as she gets to her feet. "I promise, I will. I can understand why they're limiting access for now, but I'm sure that will change. Thank you, Warucori. Have a nice afternoon?" Warucori collects the dishes with a soft clatter as the plates shift on her tray. "I can understand too. I wonder how the exiles are handling this though...freedom so close and yet so far away." She makes a little face and then shakes it off, "Thank you for the visit, I'm glad you've been able to help them. Take care of yourself too." A little grin follows before she takes the dishes to the sidebar for washing before slipping out into the weather. |
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