Logs:We Don't Drown Children
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| RL Date: 16 April, 2011 |
| Who: Devaki, Emmeline, Raum, Rilka |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Various kinds of washing, down by the river. |
| Where: River, Western Island |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
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| From the direction of the settlement, young Emmeline comes trudging with a sack of dirty clothes slung over her shoulder. And clutched in her hands are a washing board and what serves as a cleaning agent for the laundry. Like most people, she looks as though she's not going to enjoy the chore. But it must be done anyway so she trudges her way up to the river bank and offers a tolerably polite smile to anyone else who may be there. Rilka sits not far inland from the laundry area, with a crude woven bag beside her, and a collection of reasonably sized shellfish jumbled on top. She's humming as she works, cleaning the dead creatures with the back of her hand and the clean water-- water she is probably polluting, at least a little bit. The sound of Emmeline's footsteps draws her wide-eyed attention away from the task, but aside from watching her over the space of several of the younger girl's steps, she makes no attempt at a greeting. Which... isn't all that unusual. Devaki's been away from the settlement most of the day, likely out with one of the fishing groups given the slight graze on his knee due to a sliding shift of rocks near the river, his ankles, too, scratched -- bushes or tangled weed some combination thereof: all in a day's work, really. It's not all that much of a haul, given the makeshift, reed-weaved basket doesn't appear too full. He's cheerful, forcefully so, but then that's normal, for him. "Emmeline, Rilka," he greets each in turn with a smile as he arrives at the river's edge. Emmeline inclines her head at Rilka first, seeing as the other woman has been following her footsteps for a few paces. "Hello Rilka. Think you'll be using those empty shells for anything when you're done?" she wonders, making smalltalk even though she's aware that she may not get much in return for the attempt. "Devaki, hi there." is added, when he appears with his basket. "It looks like you got a decent haul. Have you had those abrasions checked out yet? You know how quickly they can make you ill if they aren't seen to." Yep, in everyone's business. As always. The first of her shirts to be cleaned are pulled out of the bag and dipped into the water. "No, I don't suppose so," says Rilka, with characteristic vagary. "Will they make you happy, Emmeline? They don't scuttle anymore." This last statement gets due emphasis: it's apparently quite important. The crustacean currently being swished around in the water gets a meaningful glance, as though she's reminding it that it is not, from now on, to do such things. "Hello, Devaki." Devaki takes the scolding in stride, smiling indulgently at Emmeline. "Not yet. I mean to see these cleaned first -- unless you're offering to help?" There's a sly thread of invitation there, but one never quite followed through with. Indeed, his attention shifts to the task at hand readily enough, taking note of the girl's positions and picking a section of the river downstream enough that his work won't interrupt theirs. Setting his basket down, he unhooks the beltknife, selecting the first fish and expertly slicing it open with the ease of a lot of practice. Rilka, as always, receives a faintly puzzled look from him, and a delicately phrased enquiry as if unsure how it will be received: "How are you doing, Rilka?" "I'm hoping they'll make the children happy, actually. I might try to make some little shaker instruments out of them. Or use them to explain counting." Emmeline replies, giving the shellfish a meaningful glance. "I, for one, am quite glad they don't scuttle anymore." There's a slight twitch to her shoulders in contemplation before she shakes off that unexpected case of the willies. "Oh, I think I'll leave that to you Devaki. I'll just clean my clothes. The fish... they *twitch* when you clean them. No thank you." The rebuttal is delivered with a smile at least, though she turns her attention back to Rilka to hear her response. Rilka's remark might as well be unrelated to anything either of her companions has said, but it /is/ said in good humour. "It was beautiful in the pools, today. The worms are glad for the sun, and so am I. I think I'd like to go out to the far island, tomorrow, and check on the red crabs." Her expression is faraway - as dreamy as her tone is. "I wish we could let them scuttle forever. But I will let you make shakers out of them, Emmeline. We don't waste anything." "Mmmhmm," there is a hint, perhaps, of disappointment from Devaki as his offer is soundly rebuffed. "I never pegged you for being squeamish before, Emmeline," he remarks, glancing up from washing the fish to eye her with an amused curve of lips. "If you're wanting to make shakers, you could use the fish bones," he adds, helpfully, making a series of precise incisions into the fish, slicing off the head and tail, setting them aside from the rest of the fish. Rilka's comment is cause enough that he leans back on his heels to study her -- and her faraway expression. "That sounds like a nice day trip. Perhaps you'd like to take some of the girls with you?" The fact that he's acutely aware of Rilka's preference for solitude is likely the very reason he suggests it. "Maybe you'd like to go see the crabs, Emmeline," he suggests with a flicker of fingers in her general direction, a hint of amusement in his gaze as he does so. Emmeline quirks a bit of a smile, unable to help herself given the tone of Devaki's remarks. "Learn something new every day." she quips, looking up to wink at him in amusement. "That's a good idea. I'll use them if you don't mind. I just don't like scaling and gutting them!" Yep, she makes another face then. "The sun is nice, I agree." she murmurs towards Rilka, her expression softening as the other woman adopts a whimsical tone. "That's not such a bad idea. We can take some of the children and show them where the crabs live. You can explain what you know about the red crabs to them." She resists the urge to stick out her tongue at Devaki, but just barely. Her expression suggests she's definitely refraining from mischeif of some sort. It's a pleasant, sunny afternoon. Rilka is washing shellfish; Emmeline is washing clothes; Devaki is cleaning and gutting fish. For Rilka, all thought of shakers and fishbones are abandoned; Devaki's suggestion draws an expression of pure horror, and, without question, the most emotion seen out of the dark haired girl so far this afternoon. "I--" she opens her mouth to begin. But Rilka does not rank terribly highly, in the scheme of the island, despite her Blood. Given her family history of strangeness, so obviously manifested in her, she's likely the last in that particular line. She goes silent. Finally, and with a sullenness that would better suit a young child, "If that would please them." There's genuine laughter from Devaki this time, agreeable enough with Emmeline, "Indeed. A new surprise every day." He nods his head again, focused on the task of picking out the bones; these he sets aside carefully. "I'll not be using them for anything; I'll make sure they're clean." His grin deepens as his gaze flicks over to Emmeline, as if exactly aware what the girl's expression portends. The grin fades by measures at Rilka's response, keenly aware of her reaction, he straightens to tilt his head, studying her as if she's done something new and interesting all of a sudden. "--But would it please you, Rilka? It was your suggestion, after all." Emmeline places her hand over her heart, and intones solemnly. "For which I thank you, Devaki, from the bottom of my heart." No really, she does! Solemn remains the emotion when RIlka's response registers. "I am sure it would please them, since seeing something new always does. I thought being with the children might be... be easier for you. That's all. I didn't mean to upset you." She may be strange, but that doesn't mean it's right to make her -that- uncomfortable. "If you tell me where thee crabs are, I can just take them there another time." The rigors of island life are not settling well for Raum just yet: in the time since he turned up, he's been sunburned, lost weight, and gained a certain raggedy edge to fraying clothes and growing-out red hair. It's no wonder he spends so much of the time looking displeased, today no exception as he helps one old granny haul down another load of laundry to the lakeshore to join the younger trio already gathered there. Rilka is a little like a rabbit caught in the headlights - or the Pernese equivalent - as she glances hurriedly between one face and the other. Her brow furrows, her lips purse, and finally, carefully, she decides, "We will go. They must know these things. Where the crabs play, and why we care for them. It is their future." And, having decided this, she's almost immediately caught by the approach of /another/ set of footsteps. Or two. "The Strange One approaches." Devaki's supposed to be the adult here -- so to speak -- but he can't help but roll his eyes at Emmeline's words, though there's a faint sort of smile that lingers on his lips. His gaze cuts from Emmeline, to Rilka, fixing on the latter with a slight frown that clears as the girl speaks, nodding agreeably. "Very true, Rilka," and he affords her with an affable smile, pleased indeed at her response. He reaches for the next fish, and begins gutting it, though the process is interrupted as his gaze is drawn by the new arrival. There's a subtle change of demeanor from him, not quite hostility, but thinly-veiled distrust. "You've spoken with him?" Devaki asks, surprised, without taking his gaze off Raum. Ok, this time Emme really does stick her tongue out at Devaki. What? She's only trying to be helpful! "Thank you, Rilka. I'm sure the children will enjoy the outing." Maybe a little too much, which could spell trouble. When the newcomer approaches them, she becomes a bit more reserved, only tipping her head towards him in greeting. Polite, but not overly friendly. Raum must be used to the odd looks that follow him around this place, but rather than ignore them, he instead fixes Devaki, Emmeline, and particularly Rilka with a cool look of his own. The granny's set up on the bank with her laundry, and she, mostly deaf and not really interested in the younger generation anyway, settles in to wash and hum cheerfully to herself. Raum lurks just behind her a moment, arms crossed. "Don't stop on my account," he finally greets the younger group, if that counts as greeting. Having acceded to the outing, Rilka seems apparently determined to pretend that bit of conversation never happened. Or perhaps it's just that she's inclined to watch Raum with big eyes. Without glancing away, she semi-sing-songs to Devaki, "He /says/ he's from a desert. Where there is no ocean." That would be a: yes, she has talked to him. Never mind that Raum can hear her. "Hello," she adds, to the Igenite. Yup, Emme's response just earns a deep, pleased chuckle from Devaki, who -- deliberately or not -- waves the beltknife around vaguely as he says, "Good to see you're helping out around the settlement." His gaze flicks to Raum, taking in the cool stare and crossed arms with a knowing, almost supercilious smile. "Not interrupting. In fact, you could assist us, if you've a mind to. We were wondering why you were here." Not that they were, exactly. He was. But he's not going to let that stop him claiming it on behalf of the others, especially when he takes in Rilka's contribution with a tip of head. "Maybe you could -- entertain us with some stories, while we work?" Being who she is, Emme perks up at the idea of stories. "Please." she prompts, offering the older stranger a bit more of a smile. "I teach the children here, and we learn through stories. New ones will keep their attention." Plus, she's nosy. Ahem. "A place with no ocean must be so different then... well, here. How did you wind up here? What's it like out there?" Knowledge. New Knowledge. She obviously hungers for that, and is keen to settle into a seated position with her clothing and eashing board so she can listen while she works. For just a moment, Raum's eyes flick to the knife, then back to Devaki before he walks closer in no particular hurry. "I look like a nanny to you?" he wants to know. "Don't got no stories." All the same, though, he sits down near the threesome, knees bent and arms laid over them; his mouth pulls into a deeper frown as he tries to get comfortable on the rocky ground. Despite not being a nanny-- "Was one time, Lord caught some idiot with his daughter," he eventually muses. Somehow this does not sound like a happy story. "He was shipwrecked," puts in Rilka, apparently quite happy to impart this little tidbit. As though it were something surprising or new, which it can't be. /Everyone/ knows he was shipwrecked. She sets aside another of her shellfish as she watches Raum; she's quite still for a few moments, her hands unoccupied. Then, as she's reaching for the next, "The daughter must already have been promised to someone else. You can't afford to mix up the bloodlines." "Unless you have some other talent useful on the island, then yes -- you may as well be a nanny." Devaki offers that in an easy sort of tone, a hint of a smile maybe giving the impression he's joking, though his tone suggests otherwise. His smile deepens, perhaps at Emme's obvious eagerness, and his gaze finally shifts from Raum as he continues his work, wielding the knife with deliberate precision as another fish is gutted and cleaned, and placed in the growing pile in the basket. His gaze narrows briefly at the start of Raum's story, though he nods firm agreement with Rilka's assertion. "Blood matters," he says, a little more forcefully than necessary. If she's at all taken aback by Raum's tone, Emme doesn't show it in her expression at all. No, she keeps a smile on her face and nods at Rilka's imparted bit of known information. What is difficult, is not chortling with the subtle dig by Devaki. "You must understand. We're quite isolated here." she explains, but goes no further then that. Wringing water out of some pants apparently takes a bit of concentration. "Guy wasn't too bright," continues Raum, unperturbed by Devaki's words. "He took off into the desert, and all we had to do was cut him off from the wells and then just follow along, all leisurely-like, until we caught up. He didn't make it. --Can you imagine, place like that: so hot and waterless it'll just dry a man into dust?" As though that were the real appalling part of the story. "S'how I ended up captain of the guard, anyway, after my predecessor failed so miserably." Rilka shifts off of her knees, and moves to sit with her legs dangling into the water: her shellfish are all done, and apparently, this means she gets to rest. For now. "You shouldn't kill a person for making a mistake," she decides, though without sounding angry or upset for the poor man in Raum's story. "He could have done good work. If you do that to every man..." "People need to learn respect for their environment. It can kill you just as easily--" Devaki pauses to deftly slice open the final fish, "--as any man." He rises off his knife and begins to pack away the last of the fish, collecting up the guts and the bones as well - to be used later. He rises, tucking his knife away and scooping to collect his basket. "An intresting story," is all he says as he steps to Emmeline's side, offering up the bones as if giving her some vastly impressive present. "You wound up in a position od authority because you let a man dehydrate himself to death? Well, isn't that charming." Emmeline mumbles to herself, her brow furrowed. "That's quite an interesting story. A good reminder of harsh reality." she continues, nodding up at Dev when he comments on respect for the environment, and then gives her the (precious) fish bones. "That'll do nicely. Thank you." And now with her pile of wet but clean clothing she struggles to her feet to carry the load. "I must go hang these to dry now." she comments wryly, nodding to all. "Enjoy the rest of the afternoon." Raum snorts. "Oughta just exile 'em instead, y'think? That better for your conscience? --Besides, it ain't killing him for a mistake. It's making damn sure nobody else is stupid enough to make the same one. That's what a Lord's got on his mind, if he's got half a brain for politics." He shrugs, watches a moment as Devaki cleans up his mess. A nod accept the--compliment? as such it is; he doesn't seem bothered by Emmeline's alternate interpretation, at any rate. "Have a good one," he tells her. "Good afternoon, Emmeline," says Rilka, sounding - for once - relatively normal, even. Personable, anyway: she actually smiles at the younger girl. It doesn't last, though; after that, she turns her attention directly back towards Raum. "But you lost your position, too. You went in a /boat/." Which is a Big and Important Thing. Apparently. "I need to get these back to be cooked. I'll walk you back," Devaki's quick to jump in, and he even goes as far as reaching out a hand as if intending to take some of the load from Emmeline -- if she'll let him. "You'll be okay, Rilka?" he asks, significantly, head tipped as he looks over at her. He doesn't voice aloud the rest of the thought, 'With him?', but it's plain anyway in the way his gaze cuts briefly to Raum. "Don't worry," offers Raum to Devaki, with a smile that isn't really, considering the undercurrent of the latter's question. "I'll make sure nothing bad gets hold of her." He directs a not-much-better smile at Rilka, tells her, "Only for a little while. When they find out I'm still alive, they'll be in for a shock. And I'll have it back, then." Rilka's expression is one of complete innocence, apparently genuine: why wouldn't she be all right? "I'll bring these up soon," she tells Devaki, indicating her shellfish. But for now-- she's going to turn her attention back towards Raum. "How will you do that? They don't come here. No one comes here. It's just us: we're the only ones who belong here." The slight tightening of Devaki's lips indicates he's not particularly reassured by Raum's words, nor his manner; his gaze shifts back to Rilka, waiting her answer before he nods. "Okay. Call out if you need me for -- anything." He cants another look at the older man, suspicion not-particularly-veiled in the look, before he heads back up to the settlement in Emmeline's wake. That's a question Raum's surely been asking himself for some time now, and his next words are just shy of a growl. "We'll figure out something, won't we? Ship came close enough to wreck here once already. Maybe somebody's looking for it. Maybe--" But he doesn't have any other maybe's just now, and instead says, "Suppose you think I oughta just give up and settle down here with a nice girl and some island brats the sea'll provide." Rilka is unaffacted by that all-but-a-growl: she watches Raum, all wide-eyed interest. Again. Still. "I wish the wood from your boat had come ashore here," she says, apropos of nothing. "You should. It would be better for us, to have new blood. Even if it isn't Blood. It will make you happier. This is your home, now. Raum. Raum of the Island." She sing-songs that last bit, too, as she rises back to her feet, wading idly through the river, her skirt floating out around her. "And you?" Raum counters, brows lifting slightly as Rilka wades into the water. "They given up on your line producing anything not--" A gesture takes in her, her floating skirt, her strangeness." "I won't be having children," says Rilka, confidently; she turns back to glance at Raum as she says it, and smiles. It's a little like she's dancing in the water, now: back and forth, this way and that. /She/ seems to be enjoying herself, at least. "They say my great-grandmother was mad, and that's why she came here. They think I'm like her. I don't mind; I'd rather play games with the fishes." "They let her reproduce," points out Raum. "Figure they would have drowned you at birth and been done with it, if that was such a worry." "She was Blood," is Rilka's reply - she sounds genuinely surprised. And as for her? She doesn't really answer that one, just weaves her way back towards the riverbank, to collect up her shellfish and put them back in their bag. But then, she turns back, fastening a long, searching look on Raum. "We don't drown children," she tells him, more solidly than she says most things. "Good afternoon, Raaauum." A nod suffices as goodbye to Rilka, but he watches her as she gathers up her things and heads up the bank. Then, to himself, he notes, "No time like the present," and turns back to the poor granny who's been so ignorant of anything around her except her washing. |
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