Day 050: Aliens Among The Trikru
Summary: Several Trikru talk about the alien mindsets of the Skaikru now among them.
Date: 18 July 2016
Related: Follows Opening the Way.
Galle Khesu Luther Hal 

Trikru Camp, The Wilderness
It's a camp with fires and tents and logs around the fires.
50 Days After Landing

It is edging into late afternoon, early evening. The summer skies are still full of light, clouds, and warm sunshine as the summer hours are still long and warm. Galle is seeing to some of the minor wounds and general well-being of the Trikru camp. She is seated on a perfectly sized tree stump, slowly wrapping garlic-infused wrappings around a young Second's forearm. "You are foolish," Galle says plainly. "Horsing around like a young colt. An injury outside of battle weakens you when battle comes… if you cannot care for yourself, then you can stay behind and jar poultices."

The Second — a young boy of fourteen — is scowling at the healer, but is mostly complacent. He does look like any moment now he is about to sulk like a child half his age, but does his best not to give Galle more ammunition. She is notably relentless.

From the lake and in the general direction of Elias' and Kai's camp comes a man walking alone and carrying his pieces of armor. Khesu is freshly arrived via Tondc but paused at the lake to wash himself. Damp pieces of cloth he normally wears as part of his arm guards are wet and had been used to try and wipe some of the sweat and dried blood from his body. His lower leggings are damp and his torso currently bare aside from the soiled bandages that Morgan had applied last night. The rinsed and wrung out damp pieces of cloth are now tucked into his belt as he comes stiffly and sore into the camp. The armor is put down at the fire pit he's been sharing with his niece, Benning. Once his armour is put down, Khesu's dark eyes look over the camp, seeking a particular other.

With his own injury from one of the Reaper tunnel skirmishes already bandaged, Luther crosses behind Galle, then reaches out to flick the ear of the grumpy teenager, "Warriors don't sulk." He pauses, considers, then shrugs, "Good Warriors don't sulk. You want to be a Warrior, you learn not to sulk. Or I tell Ashle," the boy's mentor, "that you were giving Galle a hard time."

Hal is not too far away from Galle and her Second. He's going through a hide-wrapped bundle of wooden practice swords. As he withdraws each, he tests it for balance and integrity. A few have already made it on to the reject pile due to split wood or a banged up blade. He keeps a casual, yet watchful eye of the comings and goings of others in the camp. He picks up one and gives it a few swipes in the air, then grunts softly as he apparently approves of it.

When Luther gives the Second another dress-down, the boy grunts something apologetic, but looks less mollified. The Healer just nods with the man's words, half-amused by the chastising. Galle looks up toward Khesu, and she offers a quick nod to him. But then her gaze cuts across his state, and she scowls. "You look ill-kept." She gestures the boy off, who clambers up and away before he is submitted to more poking — both physically and verbally. "Who has been seeing after you?" Which is a loaded question that actually means, 'Tell me who has botched your tending, so I can put the fear of the Commander in them.' She glances over toward Hal when he starts flashing around the wooden weapon, and she nods brusquely before she looks back to Khesu and promptly motions for him to take a seat.

Khesu sees Galle over there as he walks through the Trikru camp. He espies the Second she is working with and stops near by to wait. His chest and ribs are lightly bandaged as well as his head. Without saying anything, the dark haired and bearded Trikru warrior squats down on his hams and shares eye contact briefly with Luther, then Hal, giving them both an up nod. Otherwise he listens and seems inclined not to speak.

Until Galle speaks to him. Khesu turns his head back to her and rumbles low, "No one, but for a Skaikru named Morgan who was busy also with Kai. Kai was far more badly injured by Reapers than I." He stands himself back up and comes where she indicates to take a seat.

Luther could care less if a Second is unhappy with being grumbled at by someone almost twice his age. He earned that right by surviving that long. He lets the boy go without further comment though, moving past Khesu with a nod as the bare-chested warrior is summoned by the Healer, and toward Hal and the practice swords. "Are you planning to teach the Skaikru how to fight? You may be their favorite person ever, and your own least favorite."

Hal returns the small upnod of greeting. He watches the healing cluster, but doesn't attempt to break into the conversation on his own. When Luther addresses him, he grins a little and wraps a scrap bit of leather around the handle of the wooden sword. "Maybe. If Indra tells me to. I thought I'd come prepared. If nothing else, it couldn't hurt our people to drill before going in to battle."

"Hmph," Galle replies doubtfully. She pulls out a jar of wet bandages and several wraps of dry. She begins to look over each wound. Her fingers carefully capture his chin and cheek, slowly turning his head this way and that to get a good look at the wounds and then she begins to look over his torso. Her gaze cuts over toward Hal and Luther, offering both young warriors a slight quirk of her lips. "The Skaikru hunger for knowledge… like starved dogs. You would think their heads are completely empty." She looks back to Khesu. "Sword blade?" She inquires simply.

Galle will find that Khesu has been cut in the forehead above his right eye and it has bled a great deal down into his beard, though he has made attempt to wash much of that off since then. His dark hair is still damp from the lake water. His other injuries are to the left upper side of his chest and his left side ribs, all done by the work of a sword with long slashes but are not too deep. Painful if not serious. If she doesn't fuss at him to stop, he will carefully start to remove those bandages himself and grimaces but makes no sound at their sticking to the seeping wounds. As soon as her hands begin to take over, he leaves off to stay out of her way.

Having your face and beard grabbed so a healer may turn your head this way and that makes Khesu eye Galle right back. But he puts up with it without protest. "Aye."

"I think you'll be waiting a long time for the kruheda to order that." And by Luther's tone, that's a very, very good thing in his mind. Still, he nods acceptance of the second bit, "You mean without giving the Healers more work to do? Probably a good idea. They get grumpy when they're overworked." Galle's commentary on the Skaikru causes him to chuckle, "You would think so. And you might be right."

"I haven't met any of them yet," says Hal as he tugs the strip of leather tight around the hilt of the wooden practice sword. "I've heard stories. Is it true they don't know how to walk on ground that isn't smooth? Or that they haven't tasted meat?" There's a mild bit of naive fascination that he tries to suppress. "I don't know if I could teach them even if I was told to. Do they even learn like we do?"

Galle does not seem to mind that he removes his own bandages while she prepares her supplies. There is a variety of jars that all have a pugent smell, particularly the garlic-soaked wraps. She waits to see the wounds up close to decide how to tend to them, and she nods tersely at the sight. "You are lucky you did not lose an eye," the copper-skinned woman says. She then takes a clean cloth, beginning to clean the wounds around the edges. The tonic she uses stings, but that's how you know its working. She glances over her shoulder to Luther and Hal, and she nods slightly. "Yes, I have heard that… about the meat. Though their warriors do look awfully clumsy."

Khesu gives Galle a faint nod for her comment about loosing an eye. He is a man often doesn't have much to say and gets by with a nod when it will do. A veteran of the Second Ice War, he closes his eyes while she cleans the wound in his brow and has known worse, so the sting for the most part is ignored. Lest she get to digging into the cuts, then he may grimace but hold his place. When she's done with his brow for the moment, Khesu shifts his left arm back and turns a little to make access to his side easier. He idly studies the many intricate tats that flow over Galle's skin ere his dark eyes briefly go to the other two men, listening to them.

"Certainly not quietly," is Luther's response to Hal's first inquiry. "I don't know about meat," he gestures toward Galle as she answer, "but they're definitely poor hunters." And then he chuckles, shrugging his broad shoulders, "I don't know that they learn at all. Imagine the most easily-distracted teenager you know, and the teenager most likely to whine about things being unfair, and the teenager who thinks they know the most, put them all together, and you have a Skaikru." Apparently, after only a couple of interactions with them, Luther is an expert. An unfair expert, but an expert nonetheless.

Hal wrinkles his nose. Something about that particular expression makes him look even younger. "Well, perhaps I should just stick to drilling our people, then. It doesn't sound like they have the discipline to learn how to be proper fighters." He swipes the wooden sword through the air. It makes a whooshing sound. He wields it well. "I suppose with guns, they don't need to be very good at fighting."

Galle first takes care of the cut on his forehead. A heavy swipe of salve goes over the length of the wound, and it leaves a vaguely pleasant smell of herbs. She first wraps garlic-soaked bandages over the wound first, and then wraps dry bandages over that. Her knotting of the bandages are precise and very neat. She then begins to see to the wounds of his chest and ribs, touching carefully to see if the ribs might be broken before she commits herself to cleaning, salving, and then wrapping in the two layers. While she words, she talks. "Well, they best not be all thick-headed… I have agreed that, if Silver kom Skaikru does well, I will take her on as a Second. But… only so she can teach her people in turn." She glances over toward Hal, shaking her head. Then she looks at Khesu. "You were with the warriors… what was their fighting like?"

Khesu grimaces faintly at the bandage around his brow being snugged and tied off, but he stays silent and tries not to hinder Galle's work. He watches her, and the others quietly by turn, though for any who are particularly perceptive, the slight thinning of his mouth might indicate that he does not approve of taking a Skaikru for a Second without them becoming Trikru. He keeps his opinion to himself verbally. His attention refocuses on the healer when she questions him, his baritone kept low in volume. "They were -very- loud with their guns." Khesu pauses to think and remember the Reapers and how the firearms bit into them and blew them apart. "The bullets seemed to do much as our arrows do, except … they /can/ throw handfuls at a time, rapidly as you might fling water." He muses ere he rumbles, "Their bullets punch harder, I think. But not always as accurately as a good archer."

"I don't care what weapons you have, you still need discipline. And they don't have it. Morgan kom Skaikru was whining the entire fight." Luther pauses then, and adds, "They do have lightning-sticks, which look entertaining, but useless for anything but fighting." Even with his sword, he can clear brush or cut rope or cloth at need, to say nothing of his throwing axes. "And apparently Morgan and Silver kom Skaikru can heal well, even if he sounds like a five-year-old who needs a nap." He looks over to Khesu at Galle's question, grunting softly at the response.

Luther's remarks about discipline gains a faint nod from Khesu, who then looks slightly amused at the rest of it.

Hal can't help but grin at Luther's characterization of the Skaikru. He miiiight be feeling a tiny bit superior, but like a proper warrior, he manages to contain that. He stoops down and starts gathering the wooden swords back into their bundle. "Perhaps they can learn. After all, I know I didn't have discipline when I first began." Not really true. The boy was born serious and focused, by all accounts. "And they are in a sense, all children when it comes to life here." He nods to the gathered three, then hefts the bundle. "If you see one who looks like they may have some skill, send them to me? I'd be curious to see what they call a good fighter." With that, the curly-haired young warrior ambles off.

Galle looks up at Khesu as he gives his own report, and she then finishes up around his ribs with a tight, but not too tight, wrapping. She then holds out her hand. "Your shirt, Warrior… I will see that it is cleaned, mended, and given back to you." Like Komfi Itl, she does not leave much room for argument. "And dinner will be ready soon… you will eat double portions, and make sure you drink plenty of liquids. Healing takes energy. Give your body what it needs." Then her gaze cuts over toward Hal and Luther, and she folds an arm across her skirt-covered knees. She glances over at Luther with a soft smirk. "And as someone who can act like a five-year-old himself…" Her tone is playful at least. Hal is given a terse nod, and then she pauses. "You have heard that one of the Skaikru has been taken on as a Second? Kai kom Trikru?"

"I have no shirt. Starling will mend my armor. Mochof, Gal-lei." In summer heat, Khesu needs no shirt. It would cover his kill mark tats over the back of his shoulders and only collect sweat. With his dusky bronze skin he need not worry about sunburn as much as some. He gets up from where he'd been sitting and tests the snugness of the bandage around his chest and ribs by moving his arms around. She is given a nod, "Aye." A meal would be much welcome to him. He takes a few steps and looks out over the camp, then turns his head back at mention of Kai.

Feel as superior as you want, Luther certainly does. "They're all children in everything," he snorts unfairly. "And you can have him or her after I do. I want to see if any of them have any worth." Which is not quite the same as skill. He looks over to Galle, falsely affronted, "Yes, but I only do it when I mean to." He drops down to one of the logs serving as a seat, nodding his head at Galle, "I heard. I didn't believe, but I heard. One of their warriors? At least she knows her place."

Galle nods brusquely to Khesu. "As you say." Then she gives the man's shoulder a gentle squeeze before she begins to stand. Her gaze cuts to Luther, and she wears a light smirk. "Wren kom Trikru… he is… well… I swore last I heard he wanted to go to the Flokru." Then she releases a heavy sigh, starting to loom near where a couple of warriors are preparing tonight's food. She then looks back to Luther. "Do you? Are you sure?" Her smile is sharp, but at least mirthful.

Hmmmm. Khesu eyes the others and watches Hal slip away. Luther draws his interest as he listens. "Kai will be a good Trikru, I think. She was brave to do as I as I asked and bait the Reapers, last night. She needs training, but she fought hard." He shifts his jaw, "She would do well to also learn the bow, in time." Galle's comment about Wren and Flokru slides his gaze to her before Khesu settles himself to get comfortable and rest.

Luther harrumphs at the mention of leaving for the Flokru, "If his fight is over and he is not yet dead…" The dreadlocked Warrior shrugs, "Well, perhaps he should not have taken a Second. And yes, I am a five-year-old precisely when I mean to be one." And then he's looking back to Khesu, "But was that bravery or foolhardiness?" Once more, he shrugs, "It's always so hard to tell with teenagers."

"Mmm," Galle says in nonverbal agreement. Then at the mention of teenagers, the woman snorts slightly. "She will be both a teenager and a warrior… but I imagine that soon teenage behavior will not be so tolerated." She looks at Khesu. "But she needs to decide if she wishes to be a warrior or a teenager." Because you cannot be both in Galle's mind, it appears!

Luther has a point there. Khesu huffs about a breath softly, "Aye, hard to tell. If it was foolishness, that tends to take care of itself." They die, get weeded out. "But it was still useful." Seated and doing as he was bid, to rest and wait on the meal, the dark bearded man looks back to Galle. A barely there shrug, "I have only observed a little of her thus far, but she has not acted the foolish child to my eyes, as yet." Unlike some. Instead of naming others however, Khesu draws his long knife and examines the blade's edge. He then removes his belt and begins to strop the steel patiently to hone it fine.

Luther nods at Galle, apparently completely in agreement with the difference between warrior and teenager. He also accepts Khesu's point, "There may be some who are not foolish children." And then he chuckles, low in his chest, "Of course, those ones have already joined the Trikru." A gesture to Khesu for Kai and to Galle for Silver. "I wonder what it is about their camp that drives out the ones who are not children."

Galle shrugs a shoulder to both warriors. "I suppose it depends on what she does afterwards should she act foolish." She then breathes out a slow exhale, settling into her bones easily. Her eyes flit between the two, and she shakes her head. "Who knows." She looks at the loom of Alpha Station, eyes narrowed. "But that is something I too wish to know."

Skaikru bickering would drive him out. Too much noise. Khesu is content to let the other two discuss it further. He watches them and the others going about their business in the Trikru camp and he listens. That is what he prefers to do anyway, to let others speak most of the time. The soft whisk, whisk of his knife against the back of his leather belt makes a pleasant enough rythym and keeps up for a while. He stops occasionally to check the steel, or turn the knife over in his grip, keeping the angle low. When his side and chest get to aching enough, he stops and rests again. His dark eyes come up to watch Galle who is pretty easy on the eyes, "Sha?"

Luther drops down off the front of the log, stretching back over the circumference of the log and beginning to drum idly on the dead wood, "It will." The look toward the station causes Luther to look up at the ruin as well, "How it got so big? Everyone asks that."

Galle looks over toward Luther, and she snorts a bit. "I more want to know what they intend to do with it." She then breathes out a low sigh, glancing back over toward Khesu to keep a careful eye on her patient. She narrows her eyes slightly, looking like a woman about to chide. But she does not. Her fingers then begin to work through her bandages, sorting and organizing them once more. "It feels… so alien."

See? He's being good and resting. Only he cares not to be too idle, either. Khesu is an active man, usually on the move. It is also good to have patience. And so he stays put and lets the knife hang loosely in his hand, for he may strop it a bit more, but there is no need for haste. "It -is- alien. What they do is live and work in it. I have been in Jaha, once." But not inside of Alpha station. Khesu strops the knife a bit more but as he is achy and tired, he doesn't do it long ere he wipes the blade and sheathes it. He leaves off his belt and settles himself lower, head propped against the log others might use to sit upon. Perhaps he will eat a little and sleep, or doze soon and eat something later. He yawns, and comfortable, closes his eyes where he lays, "I would only caution against teaching them too many things, especially how to fight, until they make real peace with our Heda. It is not wise to train them, and then perhaps to have to fight them later."

Luther rattles thumb and pinky-finger against the log in a quick, light-stepping beat. "Literally alien. Not of this world." He nods sharply at Khesu's words, "Get what information we can, if they have anything valuable." Pausing, he admits, "Besides how to bring Reapers back." Looking back to Galle, he shrugs a little helplessly, "I think they mean to use it to build a village. From what I can see beyond the wall." Since he certainly hasn't gone inside yet.

The Healer maintains her gaze on Khesu until he begins to slumber. She will wake him when dinner is ready so she can force feed him if necessary. Then her gaze returns to Luther, and she rests her hands in her lap once she as resumed her seat. She considers the looming station, head tilted slightly aside. Then she breathes out a sigh. "Well… then I suppose we will have to wait and see what sort of village the Sky People build."

"Most likely, an alien one." Luther's finger-drumming ceases, and he sighs, tilting his head back to look up at the late-evening sky, "The world is changing. How will it change the Trikru…?" That may be a rhetorical question, however. "Whatever the case. Time for me to be moving. To the tunnels."

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