Logs:Snapped
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| RL Date: 10 May, 2011 |
| Who: Cason, Raum |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Raum brings information to Cason. |
| Where: River, Western Island |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Seani/Mentions, Tomaeran/Mentions |
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| Mid-morning finds the settlement quieter than it was only hours before, though far from deserted. The children are at their lessons, the fishermen are at their catch-- but Cason, leader of the exiles, is doing his rounds, chatting to those he finds in a quiet, serious voice. It's a fairly normal thing: find out how people are going, see if there have been any problems or concerns raised. Most people seem happy enough, concluding their conversations with smiles. Raum, patient, makes no hurry to bring Cason to him, instead content to wait on the leader to make his rounds and wind up at Raum's own place. "I was just about to head down to the river," the stranger says when Cason finally does arrive. "Will you walk with me, sir? It's quieter that way," And not so many watching eyes. Cason betrays only the slightest amount of surprise at being approached so; he regards Raum with a long, even glance before finally allowing the suggestion with a nod of his head. "I have a hankering to clear my head," he remarks, his voice loud enough to carry - which seems only intended to inform: they are not to be disturbed. "The river is pleasant, this time of day." Even in the low, dreary rain that's falling. He lifts an arm, indicating with it, that Raum should lead on. The rain doesn't seem to bother Raum, either, as he sets off toward the river. It's only once they're well aware from the camp and other company that Ram explains his reasons. "There seem to be any number of people here who still don't trust me or where I came from," he admits. "But I would expect as much and truthfully, they'd be fools not to be suspicious, after what they've experienced. But for all the mistrust, I've found that sometimes people will tell a stranger more than they would ever say to their friends." Whatever Cason might have expected, it doesn't seem to have been this: his footfalls slow to in immediate halt, and his hand, which had just previously been rubbing at his stubbled jaw-line, freezes. He doesn't seem to know quite what to say; silence reigns, then, for some long seconds before: "They're - /we're/ - not used to outsiders. To people who haven't known you your entire life. I imagine there's an allure to that. You're not on anyone's side. Not-- yet." "Neutrality is not something you see much of, either, then," surmises Raum. He's quiet a moment while they walk, and then he says, "I expect you've heard the trouble between your nephew and the harper-girl." Cason's slow nod is cut into by Raum's second statement. He can't help at it: he scrubs at his eyes, looking for a moment far older and more tired than he actually is. Sighing; "Hard to miss that one. Times, I could murder my own sister for what she's done with that boy." There's a moment's pause, and then he adds, "But if I say that, then I'm doing the same as certain other people: saying things to you I wouldn't say to anyone else." His careful gaze, with those upraised eyebrows, encourages Raum to continue. The confession brings a faint smirk to Raum's mouth, though it's less mocking than just wry in this case. "So you would." He agrees. "I won't say everyone involved is happy with everyone else, but I doubt it will flare up into anything more. You get a feel for these things in my line of work. I was... I am more concerned about a conversation I had with Tom's woman later." "It's heartening," the leader admits, dropping his hands back down to his sides. "To know that it probably won't get worse. Things usually don't, around here. We're-- too busy for it, maybe, except sometimes the young people." With their funny emotions. His gaze narrows, however; he looks genuinely perlexed. "Ani? What about Ani?" There's something approaching guilt in Raum's expression, as though he's ashamed for his part in this, or for having to bring this to Cason's attention. "She came to me a few nights ago and asked me a favor," he says slowly. "Perhaps I should have said something sooner, but I had hoped maybe she would see sense. She... she asked me to take Tom out to one of the other islands and leave him. Maybe hurt him. I don't think /kill/ him," he hastens to add, as though that makes it all over. "Just, teach him a lesson, I suppose. I'm not sure; women." What can you do with them. Incredulity shades Cason's expression, not to mention his tone. "Ani? Seani? She said /that/?" And yet, he seems to believe Raum's version of it, because he shakes his head and sighs. "They should never have been married, those two. She's finally snapped-- but in truth, who can blame her?" "There's that," says Raum, "though I don't think that excuses it. I expect neither of them is innocent, but Tom, at least, has never hurt anyone on purpose." He shrugs, lips pursing slightly. "I would that I could offer some suggestion along with with bad news, but for all my time around the Blood, that's one thing I've never envied. In the desert, we'd cut loose entirely anyone who tried such a thing, but I don't know that you're willing to go so far." Cason muses on this, tapping one finger to his mouth before he speaks. "No," he agrees. "Whatever Tom is, he doesn't /intentionally/ do that. Thoughtlessness is his flaw. No, I won't-- I prefer punishments that rehabilitate. We don't have hands to spare, around here, but perhaps that's punishment in and of itself: hard labour. The shame of a dissolved marriage." He's thinking out loud, considering thoughtfully, albeit without pleasure. "Perhaps both of them can learn a lesson from this, and move on," suggests Raum. "They're young yet." A beat, and then he purses his lips. "If I might make one request, though?" "I hope so," says Cason, with genuine feeling. "They're good kids, really. Beneath it all." He lifts his brows, encouraging Raum with a short nod: go on. "And I hope Tom won't escape this scot-free, either? I know he's Blood, but--." Raum hesitates, settles on a careful, "There's those who aren't so fond of the Blood already." Another of those little things people tell strangers. But that's not what's really on his mind. What is: "I'd rather my part in all this not be known, if you would. I've enough against me." "And my nephew is at the forefront of that." Cason's well aware of this, and it makes his face wrinkle with displeasure. "No, he'll not be escaping this scot-free. My sister will rage, but it's about time." The latter remark has him worrying at his lip with his teeth for a few seconds before, "Yes, of course. I don't envy you your position, here. And I do appreciate that you came to me, rather than... agree to the proposal." "I'm a guard yet," says Raum, with a lift of his shoulders, as though it's nothing important. "And I'm grateful to you for taking me in when you could have left me to die. I'll do what I can to protect you and yours." Cason's silence is considering, this time, as though he's weighing up what Raum is saying. Whatever conclusion he comes to, he marks it with little more than a nod. "Nonetheless," he tells the other man. "I do appreciate it." A rueful glance is given to the path back towards the settlement. "I suppose I'd better-- get it done." A curt nod, and then Raum is turnin to continue on toward the river. "Good day, then--and, good luck," he tells Cason as they part ways. Cason laughs, though he doesn't seem to be finding it all that amusing. "I'll need it, Raum. I'll need it." As he heads back up the path, his expression turns intent; determined. |
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