Logs:Both Worlds
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| RL Date: 14 June, 2011 |
| Who: K'del, Raum |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: K'del sort of gets himself an exile interpretor. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
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| The weather has been frankly /awful/ this winter, thus far - and today is not really an exception. The snow is only falling lightly at the moment, though every so often there's a rumble of thunder in the distance, which is a pretty good indication that it's going to get worse. Despite that, K'del is ambling lazily along the water-line, bundled up against the chill with hat, gloves, scarf and heavy coat, his pale blue eyes just barely visible in between. Of all the exiles, Raum is weathering the rescue perhaps best: he's not been sick, he's gained back much of the weight lost subsisting on fish and seaweed, and--except for the cold--he seems far more at home in the Weyr than he probably has any right to be. He's bundled up today for a venture out of the barracks, nevermind the weather, and he stands stretching idly along the lakeshore until K'del approaches. The Weyrleader earns himself a look and then a brief nod, recognition in the gesture. Except for that meeting with the elders, it would be easy to think K'del has paid no attention to the exiles whatsoever: certainly, he's not been hanging around the barracks at all. Still, Raum's nod draws some flicker of recognition in the Weyrleader's eyes, and, a moment later, he's drawing to a halt in order to give the exile longer consideration. "You're..." The name is not, apparently, coming easily to mind. Perhaps he really doesn't know it. His conclusion is kind of lame: "One of the exiles. Er. Islanders." "Raum," supplies the exile--er, islander. "The Weyrleader, yeah?" he wonders in return. "Seen you about. Not what I expected, though." He doesn't look sheepish at all about pointing that out, and as a matter of fact, he takes a long look over the much younger man. K'del pulls his scarf away from his mouth in order to make it easier to speak; his smile is rueful, all teeth. "K'del," he agrees. "Let me guess: you expected someone older?" Not surprised, not offended: honestly, he looks mostly amused. Raum, dryly, "Taller." Because that's one area where K'del couldn't be construed as lacking. Still, the exile cocks half a smile for the boy, notes, "Glad to be outside again, even if the weather's pretty miserable. It always like this? Never seen snow before." For that? An actual laugh, the grin that remains left lingering as K'del speaks again. "Most winters it's not this-- consistent? Like, lots of snow, but on and off. Seems like the weather's been rotten since the first snow fall, though, at this point." Beat. "Never seen snow, really?" His brows have raised, genuine surprise obvious in his expression. "Don't get it, where I'm from," is Raum's short explanation to that: a subject not dwelled on overlong. Instead, he shrugs. "Fitting, I suppose. But I'll not complain; it beats those damned islands, and after being locked away for so long, it's good to be outside even if it is miserable." It's hard to know whether K'del knows where Raum's from, or if he's assuming the other man is talking, simply, about the island: his expression doesn't give much away, and he doesn't ask. "Glad to hear that at least /some/ of you are happy about being here," he remarks, levelly. He doesn't really remark on the 'being locked away' part of the other man's words, adding, only, "Hopefully it'll stop snowing soon, and then you can all enjoy it a bit more. Though it won't really be /pleasant/ out here until spring, I guess." Raum snorts. "Wouldn't go so far as 'some,' really. But one, at least," he admits with a roll of his shoulders. "The rest of them are too sick or too bewildered to see it for what it is. As much as they whined about being cooped up, I think they're whining just as much now about how much is out there now. You can't win for losing, Weyrleader." "It sounds," says K'del, carefully, having responded to Raum's words with a bland smile, "like you find them a bit frustrating. Raum." Raum, simply, "Don't you?" K'del exhales, letting a cloud of white escape from his mouth and nose. "I try to be patient," he says, finally, non-commital-and-yet-not-really. "You reckon they'll be easier, in time?" This, Raum considers a moment, his mouth setting thoughtfully. "Maybe. Wouldn't get my hopes up, though. They're--single-minded," is his take, accompanied by a shrug. "They don't think like you and me. The young ones... Maybe salvageable, with some work. But the old ones?" He just shakes his head. "The young ones," repeats K'del, more thoughtful than anything. He plays with the end of his scarf as he thinks over this, nodding seriously. "Well, I guess that's usually the way. Old people get set in their ways. Don't know what'll happen to them. But the young ones-- we'll do what we can to integrate. What about you?" "Shimana--that's the one you got to watch out for," Raum tells K'del, with a faint wry smirk. "She fills their heads with all sorts of shit about the sea and monsters and Faranth knows what else." There's a pause, brief, while he sizes the Weyrleader up once more, then adds, "Igen. The Hold, originally." Because of course that's the thought on K'del's mind. Something about the twist of K'del's mouth suggests he was, indeed, thinking on that last question. "Igen," he repeats, vaguely; his inflection doesn't give away anything of what he's thinking on it. "Right. Shimana. I'll take note of that. So she's the one who started all that sea monster shit? Wonder if maybe we shouldn't send some of the old ones to a sea-hold somewhere." "They won't be happy until they're back on their islands, I expect," is Raum's take. "Though, most of them would like as not put up with a sea-hold. They're good for catching fish and cooking it, keeping nets, that sort of thing; though I don't expect as any of them know a damn thing about boats." And Shimana herself? "That one, though--she'll be trouble. If you want my advice get her away from the rest of them soon as you can. She's pretty tractable then if you handle her right." K'del purses his lips, his expression twisting into something unreadable. "There's nothing left on their islands. Nothing. We can't send them back there." No matter how convenient it might be, given some of them. A slow nod accompanies the rest of what he has to say: "It's an idea, then. Somewhere... Tillekish, maybe." Away from High Reaches Hold, though he doesn't say as much. "I'll see what we can do. I'd rather not have people... infecting others with that kind of thing." "If you like, I could try mentioning it to Cason," Raum suggests, quite generously. "He's pretty reasonable, in general, and the rest tend to listen to him--though, with his one son died and the other losing a baby /between/, he's not quite himself lately." Wince. And then a second wince. K'del looks almost guilty at the mention of those two tragedies, and looks away, his gaze flicking out over the partially iced-over lake. "It, uh, ought to wait a little while. Give him some time to grieve. Perhaps you'd be willing to do it for me at some point in the future? I," he glances back, giving Raum an appraising look. "Could use an in, as it were." Lucky Raum. "They didn't have much use for their stranger on the islands," admits Raum, his mouth pulling up further at one corner. "But it's different here, when they're the strangers. I should think they'd be quite glad for an--interpretor, if you will. Somebody who knows both worlds." "An interpretor," says K'del. "Yes, that's exactly it." He seems pleased with the arrangement, a genuine smile colouring not only his mouth, but also his eyes. "You could be of great assistance to all of us, then. Vital." "Glad you think so," and Raum does seem pleased by the arrangement they've worked out: his own mouth broadens into a smile though it's slower to reach his eyes than K'del's. "I'll let you know how things are going, when I can. I think they'll like having work put to them, even if it's not work they're used to or would rightly choose if they knew all the options." K'del shoves his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to his other: it's cold out here. Not that he seems in a rush to leave. "I appreciate that," he says, firmly. "Mm. I suppose if you're used to a hard life, being that-- idle can't help anything. I'm sure we can find something for them all, eventually. Something that will suit. In the meantime," a bob of the head towards Raum, "even something temporary will suit. Think Tiriana's got that in hand." "Your Weyrwoman," Raum says slowly. "Seems a character." But that's all he dares say about the prickly pregnant goldrider. Instead, "Figuring on doing something--handsy, for a bit, myself. Leastways have a little experience in that, thought it's twenty-five turns at least. Was a guard, before." K'del can't seem to help himself: he laughs. "That's one way to put it." He doesn't seem inclined to try and put it any /other/ way. There are limits. "Not much call for guards around here," he allows, then. "Something handsy? Like - handyman? That's what I did, for a while. When I first arrived here." A lot less than twenty-five turns ago. "No?" Raum sounds surprised by that. "I suppose you've the dragons, but even so, I'd expect you'd have your share of the usual. Thefts, brawls, insubordinations... Nothing?" Hastily, no doubt to make sure that his weyr doesn't seem like some perfect, orderly paradise, K'del explains, "We have bouncers at the Snowasis, I guess. But not much by way of theft, generally. We police ourselves. Punish our own, when we need to. For dragonriders-- well, their wingleaders do it. Or me, if it gets higher than that. That kind of thing." "Interesting," Raum answers. He's silent for several seconds afterward, mulling this over. Then, "It seems there are still things for me to learn, like as not. Despite how close the Hold is to Igen Weyr, I never really visited--never left Igen before I got on that ship. If you need anything, though, let me know. Least I can do, and anyway, not much more useless than a guard without something to guard." "There's always things for all of us to learn," concludes K'del, not without a definite tinge of ruefulness. "At least we know more than those poor exiles, who, I think, don't even know what they don't know." He must be getting cold: he's shifting around more than ever, now, wiggling his fingers deep in his pockets. "I'm sure you'll be very useful, guard or no. I appreciate it. Suppose," he glances back towards the weyr. "I'd better get in. Sure I'll see you around." "Of course," agrees Raum. "I should go, too; not used to this weather, yet, and I'd kind of like to keep it that way. Good day, Weyrleader." He's already turning to head back indoors, though not straight to the caverns proper: he aims more toward the Snowasis now. |
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