Logs:You'd Look Good Fat
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| RL Date: 5 June, 2011 |
| Who: Iolene, Jaques, Tomaeran |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Tom, Jaques and Iolene discuss recent events. |
| Where: Cliffs, Western Island |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Rilka/Mentions |
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| Three days. Three days since the invasion has turned her world inside-out. Well, her world and that of all the islanders in one way or another. Suddenly, even without the proof of Raum, there's another world out here that's not only tangible but possibly a little frightening. As the autumn sun sets to the west and ominous clouds appear to gather to the east, Iolene's found refuge at the cliffs, her bare toes skirting the very edge of the highest point. Wrapped in furs, the teenager's hair whips with the initial winds of Shimana's epic storm, and she looks pensive staring out at the sun's setting. Every once in a while though, those dark eyes of her flick upwards, apprehensive, watchfully waiting in that split second, before looking to the west once more. He doesn't make any especial effort to silence his steps, so perhaps Iolene hears the approach. Maybe she doesn't, between the storm-wind coming in and the sea far below. Either way, Jaques is there, coming up the path and heading out to the point himself. True to form, he says nothing, just steps up there beside Iolene and takes a look out as well. Is there some kind of magnet drawing them in? But perhaps Tom saw Jaques' progress begin, and perhaps it gave him reason to follow. Certainly, the cliffs aren't his usual hiding spot. His steps, too, are probably audible, though he's not quite at the top of the path, yet. She hears them, she must, there's a slight turn to her hip at first Jaques and then Tom's approach, but she doesn't complete her turn until the sun's completely set. With shadows in her eyes, as bleak as the eastern skies, Iolene looks from one cousin to the other and exhales a tired little sigh that's become all too frequent from her lips, but then attempts a smile of middling success. There's only one thing for her to say, wry and bemused: "At least life's not boring anymore, huh?" At that, Jaques' mouth quirks into a tiny smile as well. "Not like to be," he agrees, glancing back over his shoulder to see who else comes up. He lifts a hand to Tom when he spies him, but shortly turns back to Iolene and the sea. "Did you see the one that came today? Their boy-king?" Tomaeran has no time for pleasantries; his first words answer Jaques' question, as he finally makes it to the clifftops. "I saw his clothes. I saw how well fed he was, and how smug." Only then does he bother to give glance to the pair of them, his expression a flurry of emotions that leave nothing concrete to be read. "Did you talk to him?" Boy-king? Iolene blinks, her succession of flutters leading to a quick-climbing flush to her cheeks. "I... I ran away when the sea-monsters came." So much for being able to kill anything in her sleep. "I-," the girl works her jaw a little, looking very much the stray waif bereft of parents she once was, and with a decided movement, rolls her shoulders back resolutely. "Did someone really come back? Was he...?" Scary? Well-fed? Smug for real? Fill in the blank, cause she's sure as hell not completing her thought.
Tomaeran's gaze comes to rest on Iolene for a long moment, but his expression seems more inclined towards the thoughtful than the sympathetic (which would, being honest, be out of character anyway). "/He/ came back," he confirms, then, with a twist of his mouth. "And another rider with some healers, or something. But you're right, Jaques. They don't seem to know a thing about anything, from what I saw." The idea of any group of people that's never faced a day of starvation or cold or constant death is a quite the foreign one to Iolene, the utter blankness such a thought brings transparent on her face. Instinctively, she wraps her third generation hand-me-downs about her thin shoulders. "If they know nothing," begins /that kind of question/ that just trips out of the mouth without really thinking, "Would you rather go with them or stay?" A look first to Tom and then Jaques. Jaques's expression turns more serious again at mention of the other visitors to their little island. "They wanted to give Evie something, for the sickness," he admits, with a shake of his head. "What is there for us there?" he puts his own question to the pair. And, "Better yet, what is there for us here?" Digging his hands deep into pockets that probably haven't been much good at actually holding stuff in some time, Tom shakes his head. "I want to go," he says, after a moment, finally crossing the remaining distance between them. "There isn't anything for us here. But it seems like-- there /might/ be possibilities, there. Something else. I want to get fed like that." This pure Tom moment brings life back to Iolene's face. As her eyes roll, so too does a small smile quirk about her mouth corners. "Always thinking with your stomach." Though, she's certainly not one to talk. "Though, I guess you're right. There isn't anything for us here anymore, but I almost think life might be simpler out here. Less- intimidating." Bigger than a tiny island where you know everyone and their mother, literally. "They don't know anything about us, but we- we don't even know how they talk to each other! The boy-king wasn't even here the other day, was he? Was he? How did he know how to find us?" "/Less/ intimidating?" Jaques sounds not so sure of that, eyeing Iolene aside; but after a moment he folds his legs and has a seat on the cliff edge. "Maps, I expect. The ones that came first had them; they must have marked where we are for him, too," he decides. What other way is there? There's nothing for us there, either, Tom; they're not interested in your Blood, I promise you that." Tomaeran pats his stomach, sounding almost cheerful as he says, "It's an important part of me. And it's feeling pretty empty right about now." He sucks in a breath, though, as he considers the rest of what the pair of them have to say. Blue-eyed gaze turns to watch the horizon and those encroaching clouds. "Those dragons must fly pretty fast," he remarks, scanning the sky. "We must be a long way away, if they hadn't found us until now. Anyway," he glances back, giving Jaques a long look, "There's a whole world out there. There's bound to be /something/ for me in it. More than busy work and breeding." "What?" Iolene blinks back at Jaques' repetition of her words, confused. "You don't think our life here is less scary than out there?" Below, the settlement scurries to make preparations for the storms, duties she's surely shirking on being way up this high. A week ago, her only concern was not getting paired up with Xoami. Today, she keeps glancing up to the skies expecting a sea-monster to fall on her head. Her teeth ruminate against her lip and further words hesitating to be voiced. For Tom, Jaques only has a shake of his head, a sliver of a smile for their vain cousin. But for Iolene? Her, he favors with a longer look, and eventually, a simple, "Shimana says a storm is coming." "It looks like it, doesn't it?" The storm. Though it's still a couple of days off, of course. Tom shudders, crossing his arms around his shoulders in a gesture that is almost certainly intended to shield. "Someone said, earlier, that it was punishment for letting the dragons come here." It sounds like the kind of thing Rilka would say, but no one has seen her since she fled from the beach that afternoon. The need to respond releases Iolene's lip from her teeth and it's just as simple: "We've survived worse." 'But at what cost?' though left unspoken, worries about the shadows in her dark blue eyes and in that flickering, hesitantly apologetic glance to Tom. Silent once more, she takes a step closer to Jaques' cousin. "We could go," she concedes as a possibility. "Will you go, if they come back for us?" is asked again, this time specifically of Jaques. "We didn't let them," counters Jaques. "We couldn't stop them." But that's water under a bridge somewhere, and he lifts his shoulders faintly as the question is put to him directly. He hesitates. "Evie doesn't trust them, but for the baby--." Tomaeran flinches, despite himself, at Iolene's comment, though he meets her apologetic glance with a twist of his mouth and a deep breath. His arms closer tighter about his body. "We could always come back again," he suggests, though the doubt in his tone gives a pretty clear indication that he never intends to. "It must be a dream to never go hungry. To not be cold." But for all that it might be a dream and the wistful notes about her smooth voice, Iolene looks ambivalent. From the wince that claims her features at what Tom implies and the way Jaques vacillates - for the baby to the way she cowers beneath her furs. "I should find Rilka," is what she says instead of making her own decision. "She hasn't been to the hut since-," since the end of their world began. "For all we know she decided to jump into the ocean to appease the sea monsters and drive them away." Jaques, more cold than usual, "And a piss-poor sacrifice she'll make, too. They'll keep coming anyway, now they know we're here." But there's something resigned, too, in his voice, and he leans sideways to bump a shoulder against Iolene, companionable. He breathes out slowly and decides, "I'll go, if it comes to that. I'd like to be fat, too, I think." A low snort marks Tom's thoughts on Rilka-the-sacrifice. "It sounds like the kind of thing she'd do," he says, with a hint of scorn that doesn't quite become full-blown. "I hope she's all right." It's at odds with his previous words, but he rubs at his eyes as he says it, and looks away; no more death, his manner seems to suggest. Please. "I hope you find her." 'Be nice,' is Iolene's reproachful and rather disappointed look to both of the cousins, which then softens at the bump from Jaques and Tom's less catty commentary on Rilka's particular state of mind. Mollified, if only somewhat, she'll spare a quick one-armed hug for Jaques and a two-armed one for Tom that's maybe a shade too tight. "At the least, I'll make sure she finds a cave to sit in. Don't push each other off, mmkay?" This second attempt at a smile fails miserably, turning into a wobble-mouthed turn that looks anything but teasing, but then she's turning and running away from them and their decisiveness. You sense Iolene's hug masks a verbal expression of her earlier look, whispered softly into his ear, "I'm sorry. You'd look good fat." In case he needed her generous approval. "No promises," answers Jaques, with his own smile turning sad at Iolene's running away. Once she's gone, and it's just him and Tom left, he falls into silence again, glancing from his elder cousin to the sea again. Both arms hold on to Iolene, as she hugs him; when she goes, he's got a half-hearted, barely visible, little smile to match. "Thanks, Iolene," he tells her, genuinely, nodding his head as he watches her go. When she's gone, he, too, is silent, except for the very audible swallow, followed so quickly by a deep breath that ought to mean he's about to speak. He doesn't. That swallow earns a sideways look from Jaques, but he doesn't interrupt. Just waits and watches his talkative cousin very patiently, as he's so good at doing. When the words finally do come, they come in a torrent. "I've spent my whole life dreaming about this, you know? Dreaming about being rescued, and being taken away and everything being perfect. But this-- it's not quite the way I expected it. They were supposed to swoop in and make everything right. And as far as I can tell, they don't care that we're here. They didn't /intend/ to find us. And I bet they'd like to pretend they didn't, only they can't. But if they're as stupid as they seem, I'll become their leader, and then we'll see." So confused. "And let the stupidest lead," teases Jaques, only faintly. He shakes his head in answer to Tom's dreams. "You're looking for the wrong thing out there, brother. We'll find no recognition, except maybe pointed fingers. We'll be their Strangers and Outsiders, like Raum for us. But there's space enough out there to--breathe, even so." Tomaeran makes a face at Jaques. It's a good thing they've known each other as long as they have: he's not really offended. "Maybe," he allows. "But-- maybe that's what it is that I want. Space to breathe. Space to become something, if I can. Just--" He screws up his face, trying to think clearly, for all the good it does. "I do believe that's possible. It /is/." Jaques pushes himself up, then, heading toward the path. "I hope you're right, then, brother," he notes, clapping a hand on Tomaeran's shoulder for a moment. "I should see to Evie, though. I'll see you back in camp." Tomaeran doesn't need to say 'I am, I totally am': it's written in his expression. So he just nods at Jaques, watching him silence for those few moments when the hand is at his shoulder. "I'll see you later," he agrees. "I need to clear my head." And watch for dragons. Or storms. Or both. |
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