Day 016: A Meeting In The Forest
Summary: In which Que, on a hunting expedition, encounters Roger, and they discuss… many things.
Date: 28 5 2016
Related: None
Que Roger 

Mushroom Field
Deep within the forests is one of many mushroom nurseries. It is surrounded by old growth hemlocks and new growth douglas-firs. Like the rest of surrounding forest, the open ground is cushioned in mossy grass and low-growing shrubs. Growing in nurse stumps and logs is a diverse family of macrofungus, most of which are stem and capped varieties. In the day, they are already quite a collection of colors ranging from dirty white to cyan blue. At night, they take on a whole new beauty as their natural bioluminescence illuminate the nursery
Day 016

It's a few hours after the Unity day celebration was cut unfortunately short by the discovery of a dead teen and the near-simultaneous loss of communication with the Ark. Roger himself knows only that the Grounder village is located somewhere north of the camp, and for reasons known only to him, he is currently trudging along in that direction. He walks with his hands shoved in his pockets, occasionally glancing to one side or the other at a noise in the trees, but he keeps walking. He's trying not to make too much noise, but no doubt by local standards, he's making plenty.

Que is a large man, but he is surprisingly quiet for his size and the way his expressions try to mimic that of a stone that likes to roll down mountains. Still, when out hunting, its behooves him to move through the woods quietly. While on his hunt, he notices Roger, and is keenly aware of the direction in which the skaiboy is walking, and after following for a short time, Que steps out from behind a tree. He's dressed in his hunting outfit, which is a hodge podge of leathers that have been stained brown and gree seemingly at random. Dark paint covers much of his face, clearly made by two hand prints. He carries at his side a knife big enough to almost be a small sword, and from a cord hang a few rabbits. "Heya. You should not being walking in that direction, are you being lost? The skaigeda is being that way." He points back towards the direction of the dropship.

Roger gives a visible jump when Que steps out from behind the tree, and for a moment, he stands stunned and kind of wide-eyed. He blinks his way out of the shock, glances over his shoulder, and then clears his throat. "Um. Yes, I know. I… Well, I was hoping to speak with one of you. Your people. Tribe. Um. Tuan, maybe? We met when he visited the…skaigeda…"

"Tribe?" Que seems amused by this word, shaking his head slightly, "Ai laik Que kom Trikru. I am being Que from the Woods Clan." He sheathes his knife-sword, and rubs his large hands together, grabbing one knuckle and cracking it loudly as he observes the skaiboy. "Why are you being seeking this? The summit is being concluded, and though it is agreed that we are not being enemies — for now — it is not being said that we are friends. The steheda has not been allowing of trade and our stegeda is not being a place of welcome for you." That said, he shrugs slightly, "But I am being a maker, only, I can not be telling you to come or to being gone. Is there being a thing you have needing Tuan kom Trikru to tell you? Perhaps I can being tell you this thing you are be wanting to know." He frown slightly, uncertain.

A crease of concentration appears of the young man's brow as he navigates through everything Que is saying. "Ai lai… hm. Um, a pleasure to meet you, Que. I am Roger Colley. Of… nothing, in particular, I guess." He smiles, tightly, but it has a strained look about it. "I'm sorry, I don't know /all/ of those words, but I don't necessarily recognize the authority of the people who made that agreement. And…um. Well, that's not actually important right now. A thing happened in the camp. A girl was killed, and the person who did it tried to frame you. Or… I mean, frame your people, at least. Not everyone believed it, but I think some of the kids /will/. And I think the…Trik-u deserve to know about it."

Que frowns, staring at Roger for a long moment, "Of nothing?" He tilts his head to the side, as if examining something that he isn't sure what to make out of it, "How are you being of nothing? Are you not being one of the Sky People?" He frowns a bit more, "What is this meaning, that you are not being recognizing the authority of those who sat summit?" Que probably heard the rest, but he seems intent on deciphering the first few things Roger said first.

Roger sighs a little, and swipes a hand over his face. "I'm not sure that they will be able to make the other kids honor any promises they've made. And if they're making treaties with you, I don't think they're being totally honest with you about what's going on with… the Sky People. We aren't one people. We're fractured, right now. Fighting with each other." He looks tired, worried, and suddenly very young. "I'm worried about what will happen to my friends if you see us as a united people. I'm worried about what will happen if one idiot decides to come confront you. I know it will end well, and I don't want to see anymore violence. I just want everyone to be friends."

Que narrows his eyes and is silent for a long moment, "You are to be wishing you did not speak these words to me, skaiboy; you are wishing that I am hearing none of them and that I will not repeat them to my steheda, for if it being true that you are saying, then how is there a treaty? We do not trust you because of this thing you are saying, fractured. You have been made treaty. You will being honor it or there will being consequences." He shakes his head slowly, his frown deeping, "Are you not understanding? My steheda's will is being held by the stegeda; his word is being law for the village. He carries the will of the kruheda, her will is being law for the clan. She carries the will of the Heda, her will is being law for the Coalition of the Twelve Clans. Your clan will being treated with as a clan— or you are no clan and are having no voice, and what is a man with having no clan? Nothing. Dead. It is your only hope, skaiboy, that we be seeing you as a united people, for if you are not, then there is being no one to make peace with, and Trikru blood has being spilled. Blood must have blood."

Roger scrubs his face, and shakes his head. "I am to be wishing I was home," he replies, with a weakly ironic smile, and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Okay. Let me try this another way." He glances toward the forest, organizing his thoughts for a moment, and then looks back toward Que, brow furrowed slightly. "You say that blood must have blood. This is a rule of the Trikru, yes? It is also a rule of the Skai people. But it is not /my/ rule. My rules are /my/ family's heritage. They were important to my mother, and her mother before her, and /her/ mother before her. Maybe that means I am not a skaiboy. And maybe /that/ means I'm not a person from your perspective. But that is not my perspective. My rules say I am not allowed to do harm. My rules also say that if I allow harm to come to another, no matter who they are, when there was something I could do… It's the same as if I did it myself." He stands up a little straighter, still looking worried, but perhaps a bit more determined. "So I came here to tell you. The Trikru know that blood must have blood. Now, some of the Skai people believe that the Trikru have killed one of them, so what do you think may happen? I tell you this in the hopes that we can prevent further blood spilling. Do you understand?"

"It is being the way of the Coalition, Jus drein jus daun. Blood Must Have Blood. It is being part of the Commander's peace." Que's voice is solemn on this, and if he finds it strange that such a bloody creed has anything to do with peace, he doesn't show it. But, he listens. "The Trikru will be honoring our treaty. We would not be dishonoring the steheda's word by going against it. We will be doing nothing. I am having no idea what it is the Sky People will be doing if they are thinking that we broke faith— your people are being no sense to me. How can be having no clan? How can you be having no leader? How can you not be knowing who you are? There is being nothing about your people I am understanding, so I am having absolutely no idea what will happen. If they will be attempting to have blood for this act that we did not do, and be attacking us?" Que shrugs, "I am not steheda, I can not be saying what he will command. I am knowing only what I would advise, if steheda asked my opinion— I would be saying that skaikru broke faith and proven themselves to have no honor. Kill them all."

Roger listens to all of this with admirable patience, though he looks more and more troubled by all of it. "We /do/ have a leader. Our leader is still in the sky, and we can't contact him at the moment." He grimaces at the last bit, and shakes his head. "You're right. You don't understand… Tell me, what do your people do, if they stumble upon a lost child of another clan? If it's impossible to return him to his own people, I mean?"

"Is the child being afflicted?" inquires Que simply, even as he glances around, grunts, and turns and moves into the woods some more. "I am having hungry and will be cooking rabbit if we are to being talking this much. You may guest at my fire." And so, he begins gathering up twigs and branches.

Roger nods a little, "Afflicted by what?" he wonders, cautiously. He hesitates a moment, but then nods a little, but lingers back a little. "All right. Thank you." He digs into his pockets a little, and produces a few nuts probably scavenged from the forest. "I have some of these."

Que hesitates, glancing back, having difficulty with the language on this, "Is the child having … affliction." Clearly, that's no better, so he grunts in frustration, picks up some more branches, and tries again, "When a child is being born afflicted— /wrong/— they are being left to the forest for nature to be taking. They are being a stain on the bloodline. The afflicted would be spreading affliction to their own children. It is the affliction. You are having seen it in animals, no? /Wrong/. Too many eyes, or not enough. Twisted shape. There is being a word." He frowns more, "Mu-tate-ed. If I am being come across a mu-tate-ed child in the woods then I am being leaving it there for retaking by nature. The clan must be cleansing its blood of mu-tate-ed-ing."

Roger blinks rapidly and kind of stares at Que for a long moment. Then he glances back at the fire being built, giving it a long hard look. It takes him a moment, but he finally takes a deep breath, and nods. He sits down somewhere near to the spot chosen for the fire, without being too close, and says, "The child is not afflicted. Just lost and afraid. Perhaps he even lashes out and hurts you because of his fear. What does your clan say that you should do?"

Que comes out with an armful of wood, most smaller twigs, but a few large enough to provide a decent, if short, fire. He sets these down, crouches, and proceeds to carefully stack the wood. This is done in silence as he considers the question, finally saying with his quiet voice, "The clan is having no law on such a thing, for such a thing is not having been happened in the memory of my life. What would I be doing? If the child is being knowing its clan I would assume it was being travelling with its parents who died, though even that is being very unlikely— we do not often be travelling in others territory with children. Still. I would be seeking to return the child to its clan. If the child is not knowing its clan, for it is too young to know its words or bear its marks? I would be taking the child to Coesbur and ask steheda for his wisdom."

Roger nods a little, watching the fire being built. "The child knows its clan, and its clan is dead," he replies, quietly, but then presses his lips together, thoughtfully. "It seems that everything goes back to steheda. Does every member of your clan always do what the steheda says? Isn't anyone ever rebellious? Where I come from, it's common for young people to break rules…"

With the wood packed, Que reaches behind him to pull out a leather pouch that was attached to his belt then, and open it, pulling out flint and steel. A quick spark and a fire begins to grow. "It would being the decision of the steheda, yes; though Oxfor is being wise and I would not being surprised if he would adopt the child into our stegeda." Then he blinks a moment, and he laughs, "It is being the nature of being a child that they break the rules. It is being the nature of parents to punish the child to teach them. The steheda is being in command of the village, and all members of that village is being required to obey him. There are in us as in all peoples those who will be criminals and disobedient. They are being punished, as is appropriate as being judged by the steheda. But the steheda speaks only for the village. The kruheda speaks for the clan, and all of the clan would obey her in all things— disobedience would being punished, as appropriate as being judged by the kruheda. The Heda, she speaks for the Coalition, and it is being unthinkable for anyone to disobey her. It would being death to defy The Commander."

Roger listens to this carefully, with that slightly brown-furrowed look of concentration. "Yes. Yes, exactly!" he says, suddenly, his brow clearing and being replaced by a small smile. "Death to defy the Commander. How much did the Skai people leaders tell you about us, when they came to visit with your village to make the treaty?"

Taking up one of his rabbits, and a knife from his side, Que begins deftly cleaning the catch of its skin and those offal he doesn't want. "It is being known that you are criminals from the sky. Children." Neither of these points seem to make Que look very favorably, "But it is being said that you were in contact with the skaiheda, I am being understanding."

Roger glances to the side as Que starts to deal with the rabbit, very careful not to watch. "Right. Exactly… But it's less complicated than your people. We don't have… staghedas or um. What the other one was. We just have the one heda. And the only punishment we have is death." He looks at his hands, then, turning over the half-handful of tree nuts as though they were way more interesting than they really are. "We lost contact with him today. It's another reason I'm worried about what will happen."

"Your ways seem needlessly harsh— but it is not for us to being questioning your ways. Your ways are being your ways. How does this change what be happening between our peoples?" He continues methodically skinning the beast, since its small, finishing quite quickly. The bloody hide is set carefully aside, as he then reaches into his pouch, pulls out a smaller pouch, and proceeds to sprinkle some… stuff onto the rabbit, rubbing it in with his fingers. He does explain, almost absently, "Heda is being Commander, but we are not being using the gonesleng word 'Commander' for any but /the/ Commander. Steheda is being chief of village. Kruheda is being chief of clan. You are having only kruheda, then. And he is being executing all those who disobey him." He shrugs slightly, seeming to find this odd but not remarkably so.

Roger nods a little. "Except the kids," he corrects. "The kids are punished until they become adults. Then they are either killed or not, depending on the… kruheda's decision. It's the only reason we're here." He's still pretty careful not to watch the rabbit preparations. "It's… I don't know why it changes anything." He sighs, heavily. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. My clan may be dead. I want to… honor my parents, and what they would want me to do. But I don't know anymore. Maybe I shouldn't have come here." He finally cracks the shell on one of the tree nuts, with some obvious effort, and frowns as he pries slivers of meat out to nibble on.

"It is being good to honor the ashes of your parents" The rabbit, all prepared, is now skewered on a long rod that he pulls out of a hidden pocket in his shirt, and hefted over the fire, "But your parents are not being your clan. The Sky People are being your clan. You must being find a place within them." He shakes his head, his expression sympathetic for once, "I am thinking your people thought the ground would being an easy life, but it is not. It is being a hard life. The ground greedily takes the ashes of those who die and returns its bounty only when it is being paid in sweat and blood. Some of you think we are simple people, I think. They are being surprised when we have knowledge, as if we have not been living for generations on this land, as if we have not been paying in the ashes of our dead to keep it. I am not being saying you say this, but others have. We are not being a simple people, but we are having a simple life. I work, I trade, I laugh, and then I be working harder. I obey the steheda, he obeys the kruheda, and the Heda is the Coalition and does what it is needing to be doing. But I am not having to worry out that. I know that in obeying my steheda, I am obeying the Heda, and my clan is stronger, safer. Your people, some seem to object to the very idea of obedience. This will be getting them killed, and who will bury their ashes? If not by us, then by other villages, or other clans."

Roger shakes his head a little, and keeps picking at the shell to dig out the little pieces of edible bits. "I don't object to obedience. I'm not that different from you. I just… My obedience belongs to a higher power than the skaiheda, first." He looks up, with a glance at Que, then down again. "Maybe it's inevitable. They sent us down here to die, you know, so maybe this is what was meant to be. But it doesn't feel right to me."

"What is this higher power being?" inquires Que, his brow furrowing, not at all comprehending this turn of phrase. "Is there being a Coalition in the Sky, and you are being but one sky clan?" The rabbit is turned, as it roasts, smells emerge. Que clearly finds them pleasing smells. "There is not being any such thing as 'inevitable', or 'meant to be'. There is what you are being willing to fight for and what you are too weak to take, and that is all. You are making your own life."

Roger shakes his head. "That's…kind of what I mean when I say I'm not a skaiboy. I think many of them would agree with you, but that isn't the way I see it." He glances toward the fire, but then down at his hands, continuing to nibble like a squirrel, giving himself time to think. "I don't mean a higher human power. It's hard to explain… My family believes that each living thing is connected to all other living things. To hurt someone else is to hurt yourself. So that collected being that we are each a part of is the higher power that I'm talking about." He peels a last piece of flesh from the shell and discards the shards on the ground. "This is our perspective. You may have another."

"You must not be speaking those words. They are being a lie, even if you are believing them. You are Sky People. You are having no choice in the matter. You do not be choosing your clan. You are being from your clan. It is not being a thing you pick and decide." Que turns the rabbit around some more, wrinkling his nose as he thinks, "Your … beliefs … are being impossible. How is it that you are eating that, a seed of a plant? It is being a living thing, the egg that would becoming a plant which would being make more seeds, if only you were not having killed it now."

Roger cracks another shell, and shrugs his shoulder. "/Your/ perspective is that I am a Sky Person. I have another," he replies, with a slight smile. "Yes, we eat plants that are alive. We're imperfect. Our job is to know we are imperfect, but keep striving for our best, anyway." He looks at the cracked pieces of the nut, and adds, "Perhaps in a past life, I /was/ a plant. Maybe I unselfishly gave myself to feed some human, and my reward was to become one… I don't know."

Que shakes his head slowly, "I am being telling you this, Rod-get Coal-ee of the Sky People. It is not being a matter of perspective. You are being on Trikru lands. You are eating nuts that are belonging to Trikru." He pulls the rabbit up, sniffs it, then tears a leg off, and offers it over to Roger if he wants it, "A man who is not having a clan is nothing. Dead. You are skaikru. You will being judged by what skaikru does. Skaikru will being judged by what you do. It is not being perspective. It is being fact."

Roger gives a weary little smile, and looks down at his hands and the last nut. He stares at it for a moment, thoughtfully, and then holds his hand out flat, with the uncracked nut resting on his palm. "I don't eat animals, but thank you," he explains. "And if that's how you feel, you can have this back." He sets it on the ground between them, then folds his arms and rests them on his knees, looking toward the fire. "It's rule three. Don't take anything that is not freely given. Your perspective doesn't change mine, you know. We can both be right at the same time. I come from the Sky People, and you can judge me or them by whatever standard you like… But that doesn't change the fact that I am a Colley first. That overrules everything else. And /that/ is also fact."

"You are forgetting, you are skaikru, and you are having been given permission for foraging and hunting in areas around the skaigeda. The treaty between stegeda Coesbur and the skaigeda permits you this." Que gestures to the nut, with a slight nod, "This Co-lee thing you speak of has meaning to you but it does not to us."

Roger shakes his head, and looks at the fire. "I don't think I am," he replies, quietly, still looking at the fire. "You were totally right. It's wrong to benefit from association when I don't consider myself part of them." He sighs a little, and lifts a shoulder. "Colley is my family's name. My father's. We all have family names, too, you know."

Que stares incredulously at Roger, "So you will being starving now? You are touched by madness, skaiboy. There is being no sense or reason in you. If you being wish to die, why do you not simply doing so?" He grunts, lifting the rabbit leg and biting into it, chewing as he shakes his head, his expression annoyed.

Roger lifts a shoulder, and glances up from the fire with a crooked little smile. "From what you said earlier, I'm doomed anyway. Does it matter if I starve today or die tomorrow?" He glances at the rabbit, and then up toward the sky, taking a deep breath. "You know, from my perspective, you're the mad one. How do you grow up among all /this/…" he waves a hand to encompass all the surrounding forest, including the sky overhead, "Walking freely out in the open, with trees and sky and… everything. How do you live here and /not/ feel connected to it?"

Que tilts his head to the side, chewing on some rabbit still, seeming to quite like it. He gives Roger a puzzled expression, "You are thinking I am not?" He reaches his other hand down and digs into the ground, pulling up a handful of soil, "This is being the land of my father and my mother, and the mothers and fathers before them, and the mothers and fathers before them. Each of them died in honor, and the ashes if each was being put into the earth, and there those ashes became part of the land and nourish it, and from the land grew the tres, the fruits, the berries; and from those the animals feed and grow, and then we hunt the animals and grow the farms and we grow and be strong. We are all being come from the ashes of those who came before, and when we being die, we join the ashes of our forebearers and continue the cycle." That said, he shakes his head slightly, "You are being doomed only if you choose this foolishness of declaring yourself clanless."

Roger looks over at Que, then glances down into the dirt, with a deep breath. "I see. I think…maybe it's a different expression of the same thing, then." He chews on his lip a little, then offers, "We didn't have any of that up there. Soil, trees, farms, animals… None of that. My ancestors didn't have ashes that fed the trees. They went out into space. We're only connected to them by the lessons they taught us. So how can I be part of the Sky People /and/ connected to my ancestors if the lessons I was taught directly conflict with the behavior of the clan? I don't think I can." He frowns then, a little more deeply, and adds, "Besides. From what you said earlier, your clan is going to kill all of us anyway. If not this time, then eventually. So does it really matter?"

"So you should be speaking to your clan and convincing them to change. I obey the steheda, but I am speaking my mind. He listens and if he is being thinking that I speak wisdom, he may change." That said, Que stares for a moment after, long and hard at Roger, "That is not at all what I am having said in any way, skaiboy! You were asking me of hipo— hepo— hi-po-theet-ick-al question. I be telling you, Coesbur will be keep to the treaty made. It is being up to your people to be doing the same. If you are doing so, if you then be proving you can be trusted, then there is being no reason for war between my stegeda and the skaigeda. I said that if your people be breaking faith, then that I would, if asked, advise that we be killing yours for you can not be trusted, then. But that is an opinion of a maker, one man, and no heda. I am not being speaking for the steheda."

Roger looks at Que, frowning a little, but then looks back at the fire, for a moment going back to looking exactly like a sour-faced sullen teenager. "That's easy for you to say. You're not… Well, me." He wipes his hands on his knees and leans back a little. "It doesn't matter if it's hypothetical. The point is, it doesn't matter who I am or how I live. You would judge me based on actions of others, who I have no control over, and punish me accordingly. How am I supposed to feel anything but hopeless?"

Que shrugs slightly, looking… indifferent. "The skaikru will being keep faith with the treaty, or they will being not. The Trikru of Stegeda Coesbur will being keep faith with the treaty made by our steheda. Life is being hard, skaiboy. You would be walk into a panthers den and argue it being unfair that it eats you? There is being no difference."

Roger looks up at Que, frowning. "I didn't /walk/ into a panther's den. I was dropped into it for a stupid prank that didn't even hurt anybody." He pushes himself up to his feet. "I'm not arguing about anything. I thought you should know what had happened in the Sky People camp. I thought it was the right thing to do. The information is yours now. Do what you like with it. I should go."

"And yet, to to the panther, what is being the difference?" wonders Que, "You are being in its den." He does nod his head slightly, "I will being informing the steheda and our people will being on guard, but /we/ will not being break the treaty. That is being certain. I will say to the steheda that your intentions are, though unwise, honorable in a fashion that is alien. It is my advice that you are speaking to your people and convincing them that the Trikru do not break faith and this is not being our doing. No matter what it is I have being said, Rog-ear kom Skaikru, I am having no desire for the death of your people. It is being serves no purpose, and I would be like to share knowledge so that my clan can being strengthened. But if the treaty is being broken?" He makes a dismissive gesture, "Blood Must Have Blood."

Roger presses his lips together for a moment. "I have no desire to break faith with anyone. But maybe you ought to also tell your heda or whoever that there's some of us that didn't vote for these people, didn't sign the stupid treaty, and if we stand in the way of someone wanting to break it, they'll just kill us. Some of us have /no/ power to enforce anything. And we're still here doing the best we can to make sure it doesn't come to that." His nose wrinkles again, "And if you call me Roger Trikru again, the next time I see you, I'm going to start calling you Que Colley. If you expect us to learn your entire culture overnight, you could at least make an effort to learn our names." With that, he turns and heads off to the south, shoulders hunched and staring at the ground.

"I can not be doing that." Que doesn't sound at all apologeitc, but perhaps, slightly sympathetic, "Your people are having been chosen three— THREE— to sit Summit with the steheda. This is being unprecedented. To your… chaos… we have conceded much already, in being meeting our one to your three. That is all. There shall being no further concessions on that matter." He pauses, and adds, perhaps sounding sheepish, "Perhaps the steheda would be deciding to condede more, but I certainly would be not." And he shakes his head, firm, "You are being come to the land, and you are being need to learn the ways of the land. You are being Rog-ear kom Skaikru. I am being Que kom Trikru. You will not being insult the honor of my clan to say otherwise. You are being tresspasser upon land that has been ours for generations: it is not us who have need to change to be accommodate you. It is you who are having need to accommodate us." Stubborn, much? Yes. Que is as stubborn as steeel in some things.

Roger turns around and stands a short distance away, holding his arms out with a vague smile. "You have everything. I have nothing. I get it. But if you don't say my name correctly, I'm not going to say yours correctly. You get /everything/ else. But you don't get my name. That, my friend, is where I draw the line. If you wanted my name, you should have asked for it in the fucking treaty."

Que shrugs slowly, his expression rueful, "I am speaking badly, perhaps. I am having poor speaking of gonasleng. Your name is being Rog-ear, no? How am I being saying this wrong? Kom Skaikru is not being a name. Kom is having meaning of… From. But, more. Rog-ear kom Skaikru is being Rog-ear from the Sky People. In what way is this being said incorrectly?"

Roger crosses his arms, not completely mollified, but at least willing to stop and explain. "That's how /you/ say names. We don't call ourselves that way. We get our names from our parents, who got them from their parents, and so on. So I am Roger Colley. My father was Mark Colley. /His/ father was Ben Colley. No one else's family is called Colley. You understand? You don't get to erase my family just to make a point."

"So you are Rog-ear Coe-ley kom Skaikru." Que shrugs slightly, accepting this without having any particular feeling to it. If there was any erasure of families— whatever that means, as far as Que is aware, it was unintentional. "I am having no reason to refuse to call you Rog-ear Coe-ley if it is being your name, whatever it is this name of family means, for it is meaning nothing to me."

Roger eyes Que, still looking slightly unconvinced. "It's important," he confirms, still kind of sour. "And it's not anything 'kom Skaikru'. That's your language. If you're going to learn ours, do it with the names, too. It's just Roger Colley. That's it."

"No." Que says this, his voice quiet, but firm and as solid as a stone, "There is being no person who is not with a clan. You are skaikru. You will not being convince me to lie. I will not dishonor myself in a lie."

Roger eyes Que, brows lowering, and arms still folded stubbornly. "It's not a lie. /You/ guys made up the word Skaikru. We never called ourselves that before we met you. Making up something in your head and then insisting it's true is like… the definition of a lie."

"No." Que is like a mountain that will not be moved. "You are being the Sky People." And that's that. The utter finality of his tone accepts no question or compromise on this his statement of clear fact… as he sees it.

Roger squares his shoulders, sticks out his chin, and narrows his eyes. "Fine. I'm calling you Que Grounder from now on," he announces.

There is a moment of stillness, and Que stare at Roger with a certain intensity. Finally, he shakes his head slightly, "Do as you are feeling the need to do. But you will be doing it away now." He rises, and starts kicking the fire over, stomping its coals away, "Go, skaiboy. Go and speak to those people who are being yours. Tell them that we did not do this thing against your own. Tell them that we do not break faith. Do speak this in the name of being a bringer of peace. Or do it not. It is being your choice."

Roger snorts faintly, and shakes his head. "You're a stubborn son of a bitch." He eyes Que for a moment, frowning, and then finally sighs. "Fine, call my bluff. Rule #2, always speak the truth. So you're Que kom Trikru. You're the one who will be dishonoring yourself with a lie, and it's your soul that bears the weight of that, not mine. I'll take the message to the people from the Ark, and hopefully no one will do anything stupid." He glances down at the ground, starts to say something else, and then just shakes his head and turns to go.

Nodding his head in simple acceptance, Que's words are clear and calm, "Laidon, Rog-ear Co-lee kom Skaikru." He seems content with the end of this conversation, his expression solemn but serene as a stone which sits in the sand and hasn't moved in an eon.

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