Day 006: Breakfast At Coesbur
Summary: A new day and another meal for the prisoners.
Date: May 6 2016
Related: Grounded
Devin Morgan Quinn Ruth 

Prisoner Hold, Coesbur, Trikru
This is a dirty and dark place. It looks as if it is nothing more than heavy wooden walls and a thatched roof. Its floor is covered in a thick layer of everygreen branches to provide some warmth and softness. There is a single door that is sheltered by woven cloth that allows those within to catch flashes of movement outside in the village center. There is always a grounder standing guard, and food and water is provided. Occasionally, someone will call in on the prisoners to see to their wounds.
Day 6

Depending on how long Morgan has been up, he might have been hearing very slight tapping noises coming from Ruth's corner of the room for the past couple of hours, now. It started off quiet, but has lately gotten just a bit louder. It comes and goes, generally keeping a solid rhythm before devolving into quiet scraping. As the girl herself is facing the wall, one would be hard-pressed to figure the sound without actually standing up and approaching to discover.

"Sharpening something?" Morgan asks quietly. He eventually fell asleep but was woken up when the Grounder came back to change his bandage and slather on some more of that herbal goop. Having more food brought after that pretty much guaranteed he was up for good.

Ruth turns half onto her back to incline her head in Morgan's general direction, though fails to meet his eye in favor of clenching hers shut with a yawn. She dips her chin in a single nod afterwards, holding up a smooth stone and now pointy stick. That certainly explains the scraping, but not the tapping. "How long has it been since we were taken?" she wonders, her voice hoarse with what's obviously been a sleepless night without its use.

"Less than a day." Morgan answers. He carefully stands up, needing to stretch his legs and move around a bit despite his injury. "I wonder what they're waiting for?" He moves over to the entrance but doesn't try to move aside the cloth over the door, just peer between the pieces. He doesn't want the guard to hear him though so moves away and closer to Ruth. "We know they understand us so why haven't they asked us anything?" Not that he expects Ruth to know the answer.

When Morgan rises, Ruth sits up with a palm pressed against the floor for support. A bit woozy with this motion, she reaches for water and fruit and consumes both somewhat more voraciously than she did the evening prior. "Why would they need to hurry?" she challenges Morgan's question, one brow raising to be hidden by a mop of rat's nest hair. It's obviously quite prone to this natural state of disarray on the ground despite all her attempts to calm it. "My guess is… they want you to be asking that instead of asking more important questions." This could be construed as a subtle dig, but she looks far too tired for anything so witty as that. Her expression in repose is far more open than her usual dimpled smirk, further alluding to her sincerity. "They don't want cookie-cutter answers to questions we might have already rehearsed. They… probably want answers with our actions and what we choose to say without being prompted."

"Because she's curious. That much was obvious." And because Morgan is impatient which is also obvious. "And the longer they take, the more time we have to rehearse answers so that kinda counters your idea. Though they probably are listening to us, you're right there." Not in the mood to pace around after all, he sits back down and finishes his water.

"Ach, you know what I mean." Ruth tilts her head against the wall until it bumps audibly. Her expression doesn't change, so it probably didn't hurt. Much. "It's harder to lie in action than in words." The glance she sends @Morgan from the corner of her eye manages to convey a well-meant 'trust me', yet unspoken.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Morgan agrees. He eyes the rest of his deer meat but decides to wait for a bit to finish it. "I wonder what the others are doing. They must be going crazy. Some of us dead, some of us captured, they have no idea if they're going to be attacked at the ship or not." And neither does he. "I wonder if they're planning to attack the ship." A new thought and one he doesn't like. "Is it in their territory?"

"Their territory?" Ruth echoes, as though she doesn't quite understand the terminology. "This is all what used to be the United States," she reminds Morgan matter-of-factly, leaning forward a bit so she can scratch at her ankle. She has long legs, so she's able to rest her chin on her knees quite easily. "It's all kind of… one… territory. Unless these people made it even smaller. You know, that's the mark of a third-world place. Really small countries. And, uh, you know… bows and arrows in the twenty-second century, too." She liked history a whole lot better than she liked Earth Studies, apparently. "So… people fighting over small tracts of land." She's not consoled by this. With a grim press of her mouth, she airily reassures Morgan, "If, um, it makes you feel better… if this really is a territorial thing, we would have ended up in someone's territory no matter where we fell. So it was only a matter of time."

"Ruth, there was a nuclear war." Morgan reminds her quietly. "I'm pretty sure there is no United States any more, not if these guys are any indication. I mean, it's pretty damn unlikely that we landed in the one place that has a barbarian tribe. Which means this is the likely what we can expect to find anywhere we go." He shrugs then winces a bit as the motion pulls at his wound. "I think it is a territorial thing. Those piles of stones had to be markers. Just like gangs do. It would explain why they didn't follow anyone across the river. Only question is, whose territory is the ship in?"

"That's what I just said, Blackwood," Ruth flatly intones, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. This gives way to yet another yawn. By its end, her agitation is once more subdued. "It doesn't matter where we landed, where we go. We're stepping on ground that isn't ours. That's my point. We're fucked from all sides: up, down, left, and right."

"Yep." Morgan agrees and glances at the door. "Which means we need to make friends. Allies. Not just against the Ark but against other… whatever they are. Gangs. Tribes? Before we run into another one that isn't as friendly." And given that they attacked without warning and killed two of them already, that's a very loose definition of friendly.

A light punch is aimed at the wall of their hut. It sounds a dull thud, one not likely to draw the attention of their undoubtedly bored guards. "Yes, I get it," she bites out, grinding her teeth before loosing an exhausted sigh. "We need to make friends. We need to make nice. We need to appeal. Have I disagreed with you /once/ on that front?" The acid in her tone is entirely uncalled for, and obviously more than the tiny thing she's addressing. "Stop fucking telling me the same thing over and over again. Tell me something I haven't heard before."

"Calm down." Morgan sighs. "I'm reminding myself why we need to make friends with a gang of barbarians who tried to kill us." This said even more quietly to make it impossible to overhear through the walls. "And to make sure I don't forget any reasons because you know that there's going to be guys back at the camp who won't want to. Either because they want to make nice with the Ark or because they think they're better, more civilized, than these guys and can't learn anything from them."

"Right now, I…" Ruth's voice cracks and she presses the backs of her fingers against her mouth, features only just beginning to contort when she turns her head to face the wall. Her rat's nest hair now serves the purpose of concealing unbidden tears. "This is just cruel. Do we even know if there's anyone left for us to go back to?"

"Right now, I…" Ruth's voice cracks and she presses the backs of her fingers against her mouth, features only just beginning to contort when she turns her head to face the wall. Her rat's nest hair now serves the purpose of concealing unbidden tears. "This is just cruel. Do we even know if there's anyone left for us to go back to?"

Life is cruel. Morgan learned that when his parents were killed. "They took us prisoner." he says. "Even if they attacked the camp, I'd think they'd have captured some others. Probably a lot. It's not like we have guns. Also, I think we'd have heard something if they went off to attack it. Like, the sound of horses riding back and forth and things like that."

Ruth is all too quiet in her corner, at least until she manages a deep breath. The exhale is watery, but a bit more level than tense silence. She offers nothing more significant to the conversation, her head turning very slightly so she can look to Quinn and Devin. She doesn't dare speak above a whisper. "You think they're okay?"

"I do." Morgan says, sounding sure. "Even if they were attacked? They could lock themselves in the ship. I don't think these guys could break through the metal walls." Which means the Delinquents would starve to death eventually but less than a day since the first contact, means they're probably fine right this moment.

"I wasn't talking about them," Ruth replies evenly, her gaze kept on Devin and Quinn. "I'm going to only worry about the people I know are still alive. The ones I can help."

Morgan looks over at the others. "Devin will be fine. He's the least hurt of us three and I'm going to be fine." Conspicuously, he doesn't try to reassure Ruth about Quinn, who was gravely injured. "We can hope the natives know what they're doing when it comes to treating arrow wounds."

Ruth's nod is a tiny thing, barely discernible. "Eat," she directs Morgan, indicating the meat he himself had left alongside hers. "If not mine and yours, then just yours."

"Yours is yours." Morgan states but he does take a bite of what's left of his. "You really need to get used to eating animals. Even if the Ark comes down and you go back to them, they're going to need to hunt just like everyone else. Those stations aren't made for reentry and all that tech will be staying in orbit except for what's most vital."

"Do you really want me to be sick here? Here?" Mortification colors Ruth's face, but she doesn't shy away from staring at Morgan anyway. Her eyes are red-rimmed and raw from her earlier bout of silence. "Right now, you're chewing on something that… might as well be alive. It moved and existed and breathed. How can you even…" It's not even righteous fury that gives her words heat, merely pure disgust. "It's one thing to read about it, Blackwood."

"Because I want to stay alive and healthy." Morgan says simply. "I intend to survive this world no matter what. And it's the only way that's going to happen. There's no choice about it. None."

"Well, you're dumb for thinking that there's only one way to do things," Ruth states with a self-important sniff, her arms wrapping about her legs as she turns to regard the cloth-door with a pronounced squint. "Good luck with that outlook."

Morgan shrugs. He's not the one going to be fainting from hunger in a few days. "Successful species adapt. The ones that don't die off." He takes another bite and tilts his head back to rest against the wall, closing his eyes.

"Jackhole species get killed off when ones that get sick of their apathetic banter decide they won't put up with it anymore," Ruth fires back, chewing on her knuckle briefly as she eyes the two sleeping delinquents once more. "Stop trying to invalidate me. It's not working, and you look damn sorry in the process."

"I'm trying to keep you alive." Morgan counters. "Fine, suit yourself. But if we need to escape and you're too weak to run, you're on your own. So keep that in mind."

"And what do you care? It's not like we've ever actually talked." Ruth eyes Morgan up and down, swallowing thickly at some thought or another. She swiftly looks away. "Eden. You're the worst."

"I don't." Morgan says. "Except that you're one of us and we're all in this together. If I can do something to keep us strong, I will. As I've been saying, we need allies. But we also need to be a 'we'. All of us, together." Ideally. Some people he might not bother with. "There's strength in numbers and all that shit. Plus you're a medic. We need medics."

"Talking to you is like talking to the wall of my Skybox cell, except at least there the wall didn't talk back," Ruth informs Morgan, even as she stares at the wall opposite the one she's seated against. The sharpened wooden stick is pressed against the floor by it's point and twirled by her index finger and thumb. "Have you ever considered that… maybe… just maybe… you aren't always right?"

"Once or twice." Morgan admits then pauses. "But I was wrong." he adds and snickers loudly.

It only takes Ruth a moment. After what Morgan has said has fully registered, though, she can't help it; she too starts to laugh, the sound low and indelicate. She snorts at least once.

Quinn's been understandably quiet recently, sleeping in between well, more sleeping. There's been not a lot of activity, but she at least doesn't appear to be quite as ready to drop dead as before.

Morgan looks over at Quinn as she begins to stir. Standing, he takes her share of breakfast - more venison, berries and water - along with last night's dinner over to her. "Quinn? Do you think you can eat now? You need it to heal."

"Maybe?" Quinn replies, her voice hoarse from lack of use, eyes squinting in the darkness of the hold, "Is there water?" She tries to push herself up a little, using one elbow.

"Stay down." Morgan says quickly. "You're badly hurt. Don't tense your stomach up." His chest is bandaged as well but he's able to walk. "Yes, there's water. And berries and meat. Take a small sip then have some berries. I'll soak the meat in the water to soften it." He sits down next to Quinn and holds the cup up to her mouth once she's in position. Awkward but he's being careful.

Quinn leans a little to one side so that she's not as likely to spill the water all over herself, the sips slow, and brief. She coughs, which just causes her to wince as that tenses her muscles, "Fuuuuuck."

"Yeah." Morgan agrees. Really, fuck pretty much sums it up. He' seated next to Quinn and starts feeding her berries after putting some deer jerky in the water to soften. "Here, berries first. Better than water. In case you were too out of it, they put some kind of plant poultice on you. Since you're still alive, they seem to know what they're doing."

Ruth watches Morgan and Quinn's exchange without saying a word, her form resting against the wall in an upright seated position. Laughter long abated, she looks as if asleep with her eyes open. Well, mostly open.

Quinn's eating the berries slowly, with a frown. However she doesn't seem to have much to add for the moment, probably a side-affect of her not having eaten yet since capture.

"So here's the situation." Morgan says as he feeds Quinn berries. "The four of us are being taken care of and fed. They've mostly left us alone aside from that. The woman understands English so be careful what you say. It seems likely that we intruded on their territory and knocked over their markers. If you've ever dealt with any of the gangs on the Ark, that's bad and we'd have gotten about the same reaction up there. So we need to be polite and try to make friends because they know how to survive on this planet and we don't. Not to mention we're outnumbered."

Morgan's mention of 'making friends' has Ruth grunting in her place against the wall before she settles back onto the floor in a pile of agitated girl, all restive limbs and flightily fidgeting fingers.

"Not sure we'd have gotten quite the same reaction." Quinn mutters, glancing down at her stomach before giving Morgan a little bit of a more pointed look.

With the exhaustion and wounds from the previous day's battle, Devin has fallen into a deep sleep for most of the night and morning. He hasn't been moving or been making much movement since the grounders had changed the prisoner's bandages. From his place against one side of the room, Devin starts to make soft whimpering noises as his head twitches slightly from side to side as if he's having a nightmare. The whimpers he makes start to become more frequent and a bit louder, sweat beading up on his forehead as his eyes move frantically beneath his eyelids. After a few moments, he sits up quickly with a slight cry of fright as his eyes shoot open, waking from his dream. His breathing is heavy as he looks around the room, trying to get his bearings. He takes a deep breath as he realizes where he is, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Sorry." He offers in a soft murmur.

"Not arrows, that's true enough." Morgan agrees and shrugs a shoulder, the one on the side that didn't take an arrow. He's about to say more when Devin starts whimpering and he looks over. Starting to reach over, the boy wakes up and he drops his arm. "That's okay." Turning back to Quinn, he gives her another couple berries. "You okay? Breakfast is here. They delivered it after changing our bandages."

An uncomfortable glance is sent in Devin's direction when he starts to make nightmare noises. She doesn't reach out to him as Morgan does, instead averting her eyes; out of sight, out of mind. She turns over onto her side to face the wall, sharpened stick held close to her person. After that, it's hard to tell whether or not she's asleep. She's certainly unresponsive.

Devin lets out a deep breath and shakes his head at Morgan's question, laying back down a bit. "No thanks. I'm not hungry." He offers as he looks up at the roof before he looks back to Morgan. "Did I miss anything?" He asks as he glances back towards where Ruth might be sleeping before he returns his attention back to Morgan.

"You need to eat to regain your strength so you can heal." Morgan tells Devin. Seems he's made the same speech to all three now. "Think of it as medicine. No, except for the food and bandages, they've left us alone. So pretty much like being in the Box."

Devin seems to have calmed down a bit as he sits back up, crossing his legs. "Yeah, it is like the box, but at least we get company and aren't in separate cells." He says as he looks to the food and reaches out to take a berry and eats it. "So pretty much the same shit, different airlock."

"Least we're eating better here than at the ship." Morgan suggests. "And we don't need to go get it ourselves." Regular meals of meat and berries with no effort. Since Quinn seems to have dozed off again for the moment, he sets her food down and moves back to sit next to Devin. "You'll be okay."

Devin laughs softly and nods "Yeah, but I'd like to have something more than just meat and berries. A little variety would be nice. Grey Paste #249. Red Paste #173." He smirks and chuckles softly as he looks back towards Quinn as Morgan does. "I wish we had a deck of cards or something to occupy the time."

"How about some strange looking leaves?" Morgan asks. "Or possibly poisonous mushrooms? Those are very popular." He stretches his legs out in front of him. "We can make our own cards when we have time. They might be a bit thick though."

Devin thinks for a few moments. "I can go for something with a little less poison, thanks." He says with a smirk before he stretches a bit. "I wonder if they'd let us go take a walk or something. Being cooped up in here is starting to drive me nuts."

"Could ask. Probably not the guard but you could try her when she gets back. Much as I want to see more of where we are, I'm not ready to take much of a walk though." Morgan says. "Maybe I'll try to go back to sleep till someone shows up. I didn't sleep well."

Devin smirks and nods. "I'd just like to walk around and move my legs. Couldn't hurt to ask. I don't care if there's a guard. I just want out." He says before he looks back to Morgan, nodding. "Go ahead and sleep. I'll stay up and keep watch. I don't think I can go back to sleep anytime soon."

Morgan nods and shifts position so he can lie down. "Don't forget to eat." he tells Devin, trying to get comfortable. "Wake me if you think anything interesting is going on out there."

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