Logs:Truce
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| RL Date: 21 April, 2011 |
| Who: Raum, Shimana |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Raum and Shimana come to an accord. |
| Where: Settlement, Western Island |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
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| There aren't any lazy summer days on the islands: the long hours of sunlight mean more time for fishing, gathering, surviving, and the clan frequently only comes in when there's no longer any light to see by. It's that time now, where the western sky is still faintly light but nothing reaches past the cliffs to the shoreline, where Raum now stands, the outsider's expression pensive as he looks out to see. Picking her careful way down the clifftop path is Shimana. Her eyes are on the ground, though only of necessity - a broken bone on the island is exceedingly unfortunate. By the remains of the bonfire she pauses, gaze sweeping across the expanse of ocean... and landing, unhappily, on Raum. "Anything of interest?" she asks, friendly enough, except for the uncharacteristic hardness in her voice and the frown softened only by twilight. Raum doesn't start at the voice, and indeed, it takes him a moment to seem to fully comprehend it, that it's speaking to him. He glances over his shoulder first when he does, just long enough to take in Shimana up and down; then he looks back at the sea. "Only water," is his answer. "Never seen anything like it." "Yes, well." Shimana is perhaps a bit discomfited by this idea, though not so much that she doesn't sedately approach Raum's position. "The sea is everywhere. It's our life. There can /be/ no life, without the sea." She slants a look at him, sidelong, with intense interest at his reaction. "No life without water, maybe," counters Raum. Though he doesn't look back at her again, the slight shift in his posture makes allowance for her presence alongside him. "All that, though?" A nod takes in the vast expanse. "That's just showing off. Can't even drink the stuff. It's your life but it's not /life/." "It is /our/ life," Shimana repeats, with emphasis. "It's our life. It's not easy, but it's ours. If we do well, if we pay attention, if we listen to the sea-- we thrive. We like our way of life." There's a hardness to her tone, and the hint of a threat in the look she slants briefly at Raum in between bouts of staring at the horizon. Raum shakes his head. "You don't like it; you just don't know any better," he answers, his own voice flat as he finally looks to Shimana. "Course, wouldn't matter if you did. Wouldn't get you off this Faranth-forsaken rock." "We do like it, and it is the only life we have. The last thing the children need is someone filling their heads with tales of what cannot be," is the sharp retort, nearly right on top of Raum's response. "This is our home, now, and these are our lives. If you seek to join us," Shimana sniffs, drawing her dignity back around herself like a cloak. "You'd best learn to conform." "If I don't want to be a happy little breeder, thanking the sea for not drowning me today?" wonders Raum. "You don't need to breed," Shimana whirls, tearing the full of her attention away from the ocean and pinning it on Raum. "I want you to stay away from the girls. No telling tales to Emmeline, or threatening Rilka. The sea gave you to us, but we can give you back. Are we clear?" "I think," Raum answers, "you'll want to be careful who you threaten, woman, else you may find the sea's more than just life, yourself. And then we'll be clear." The normally unflappable calm that surrounds Shimana is peeling away quite rapidly; if her voice goes any higher, there might just be people coming to investigate. "Now see here! We want nothing to do with you and your Outsider ways. I don't trust you, and you had better think twice before you cross me!" "Shut up," Raum says, mouth tightening the more shrill Shimana gets. He takes a step forward, too, getting just that much into the smaller woman's space. "I don't give a damn if you trust me or not. I'll do what I have to to survive out here, but however you're involved in that, you can be damn sure it won't be me kowtowing to some shriveled up old bat." Shimana takes a reflexive step back, though as soon as she realizes her instinctive reaction a scowl sweeps across her face. "That /is/ what you had better learn to do, to survive. We don't take kindly to disrespecting our elders out here." Which is-- really ironic, considering. Her gaze darkens, and she takes another step back towards the huts for safety's sake. "You just stay away from the girls. I don't want to hear anything more about Raum and his stories." It's not a nice smile that hovers around Raum's mouth, his eyes watching Shimana scuttle away. "A truce, then," he agrees. "We'll both stop telling them stories about me." "You just better watch the line you're walking, Raum," Shimana warns darkly. "I'll be watching you." And she'll storm off towards the huts, unless stopped. |
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