Day 072: Broken Noses And Broken Hearts
Summary: Galle and Luther snipe at one another, Fayet breaks her nose, Sev, Fiona, and Tuan check out New Coesbur.
Date: 9 August 2016
Related: A Wounded Raccoon and First and Last.
Luther Galle Fayet Sage Sev Fiona Tuan 

Site of New Coesbur, Wilderness
This is a broad, open field of crushed grasses and meadow flowers. The first trees have been felled, and their stumps removed, leaving deep divots of open soil and naked rootballs. Wood has been gathered to be burned that could not be hewed into poles and slats. Crude structures have been built to house laborers. There is always activity around here during the day, and meals are served community style. There is a clear view of the lake and small inlet stream from the knoll, as well as the hulking mass of Alpha Station across the lake.
72 Days After Landing

Even Trikru can't work forever, and now Luther finds himself by the water barrel, sprawled out with his back against a stump and his ankles crossed. He has a big mug of water in his left hand, but is busy tossing one of his throwing axes with his right, letting the handle whip over and around, then come slapping back down into his palm. One rotation each time, no more, no less, every time, a little 'smack' and a neat catch.

There is a faint clipclop of hooves as the long-maned pony comes trotting up the newly compacted road to New Coesbur. It draws a pretty sizable cart behind it, boxes and crates carefully puzzled into the bed and each carrying bottles or smaller boxes that contain tinctures and herbs. There are also a few boxes of cloth, and some empty buckets. A woman is walking alongside the butter-colored pony, wearing legging-style pants and a sleeveless tunic that shows off her tattooed arms. The woman's black hair is woven into a loose braid, forelocks sweeping her brow and temples, and a soaked, folded cloth has been tied across her forehead and tied at the nape of her neck to drip water over her skin and help keep her cool in the summer heat.

See, one of the problems with cutting down the trees is that there's no damned shade. Fayet is fast asleep under one of the trees not marked for cutting, napping in what little shade the tree provides. She has a damp scarf tied around her dreadlocks, a sleeveless red tunic and loose brown trousers tucked into the tops of her boots.

Luther keeps hold of the axe for a moment, long enough to take a swig of the water, then glances over in the direction of the horse's hooves as they rise over the chopping, peeling, and sawing of wood. He hauls himself slowly up to his feet, notes that the incoming pony is hauling a cart, and then tilts his head back to dump the rest of the water over his head, shaking out his dreadlocks as he does. The mug is placed alongside the cask of water, the throwing axe tucked into the back of his belt, and then Luther steps over to where Fayet is napping, crouching down to pat her bare shoulder lightly, "Time to rise, Fayet." A grin dances across his lips, and then he adds cheerfully, "Looks like a cart to unpack."

The Healer pulls the reins, guiding the horse up that final hill to the site of New Coesbur. She is murmuring something to the horse who snorts and shakes out his mane boredly. She is looking around, and spots Luther and Fayet, the former crouched beside the latter. A small frown tugs momentarily at her brow, but she hides it away very quickly with a slight nod of her head. She continues to pull the pony along until they are near the building sites. She finds a place to tie up the pony, and reaches for the first lightweight box of cloth and rolled bandages. It is set into her hip.

When Luther taps her shoulder, Fayet startles awake, that arm flying out to hit whatever just touched her. Once she gets her bearings, she mumbles an awkward 'sorry' and hauls herself to her feet. "What's the good word?" she asks Galle.

Luther takes the whack on his shoulder, rocking with it and chuckling. He offers her a hand to haul herself up, and then turns around to face the oncoming cart and… Galle. His face freezes with its smile on it, and then he pushes it back to something approaching its normal width, "My guess, Fayet, is 'ointment.'" Which, honestly, many in the growing camp could probably use, given the hard work and… for many… new types of work.

"I imagined a bunch of warriors using sharp tools that aren't meant to kill means that injuries will be plentiful," the Healer replies in a casual note. She offers Fayet a small smile. "Or am I not giving the warriors you have enough credit?" She offers a small grin as she sets down the box, and then turns to grab the next. "I brought a tent that I can set up, and if there are no injuries, I can help with some of the labor. Word has it Keta — " That would be Coesbur's healer " — is seeing to family in Tondc." She then nods to Luther. "Ointment is just some of what I have brought."

"There are a few morons who could use a visit from the cautery iron, but nothing substantial. No severed limbs, no trees actually falling on anyone, nothing like that. I'm pleasantly surprised." Fayet notices the peculiar expression on Luther's face and quirks an eyebrow at him for a moment, before going on with the business at hand. "Need a hand setting the tent up, then?"

Luther carefully turns his eyes from Galle to Fayet, leaning over to try and nudge her shoulder with his own, "Just wait, I'm sure we can expect worse than a few blisters and cuts and splinters from a bunch of young fire-eaters still stupid enough to brag of their conquests." Looking back to Galle, he adds, "I think the Skaikru's blisters were the worst. I did get another honorable scar though." The last is deadpan, until he holds out his left hand to reveal a small splinter in the heel.

"If you can spare it," Galle offers with a small smile toward Fayet. Her gaze drifts to Luther when he nudges into the carpenter's shoulder, but it is a passing look before she turns back to her cart to grab another crate of bottles. She continues hauling out boxes for several more moments until she has cleared around the canvas and poles she has brought for the tent. She looks back to Luther when he mentions the honorable scar, and she scowls slightly. "And it looks like I am taking a pause to see to that before we set up the tent." Her voice is chiding, and perhaps a bit sharper than usual.

Fayet nudges Luther back. "Don't borrow trouble," she smirks, heading over to the cart. She leans against it, casually looking over the cart's contents. When the warrior shows off his splinter, she says gravely, "Galle, I think you might have to amputate."

"Then where am I going to get it, Fayet?" Luther turns the smile back to Galle, where it dies a little on his lips in the face of the sharp tone, "I think it just needs a tender touch." Beat pause, "Is Arlin coming to New Coesbur soon?" He snorts at Fayet's medical advice, shaking his head, "But then how am I going to two-hand my sword?" That… might be dirty… it's sometimes difficult to tell with Luther.

Galle huffs slightly, but she is already grabbing her satchel from the front of the cart. She gestures Luther to take a seat, stepping after him. "I'll handle it… it will be infected by the time Arlin comes by." She looks over toward Fayet. "Where would be best for me to set up that is out of the way of your workers, Fayet?" She will kneel down once Luther has had a seat, and begin to dig out her supplies.

"By the waterside. I'll get everything out for you," Fayet offers, starting to unpack the tent poles and bringing them over to the spot she'd chosen.

Luther settles down on one of the nearby stumps, reaching out in an attempt to take Galle's satchel and place it on his lap so that she doesn't have to hold it and dig through it at the same time, "You really don't have to dig it out yet, Galle. It's not really a bother." This is what happens when you make a mountain out of a molehill: someone calls your bluff. "I'll give you," that would be the 'y'all' form, "a hand unloading…" and then he looks down to his hand, suddenly kind of bashful about making a big deal out of the little splinter.

Galle nods to Fayet, and she accepts Luther taking her bag. She looks up to Luther, frowning slightly. "Then it will be really quick to see to it, won't it?" She shakes her head as she takes out a very thin and very small bladed knife for such a thing. It is wrapped in a protective cloth that has been soaked in garlic to keep it mostly sterile. She starts to look over his hand, opening the palm out wide with a squeeze of her fingers to give it a serious look over. Spotting the small splinter, she goes about using the thin tip of the knife to softly scrape it out.

"Need a belt to bite on?" Fayet calls out, teasing. She heads back to the cart to get the rest of the tent poles. "Hey, you're his healer," she calls to Galle. "Is it really a two—" Someone wasn't paying attention. Someone just tripped over a small stump. She falls, trying to catch her balance, but fails entirely, tent poles smashing into her face before her face smashes into the ground with a crunch. "SonnuvaBITCH!" she swears, blood gushing from her nose. Well, at least she's wearing a red shirt, right?

Luther sits quietly and docilely as Galle pulls the splinter from his paw… palm. His water-soaked hair drips down onto his palm as the Healer finishes the removal, but he simply sits there as she digs the splinter out. He stops there a moment, looking down at his hand, up to Galle, and then chuckles and looks back to Fayet, "Sure, bring yours over here. And yeah, it is a two-handed…" and then she's falling down, and Luther rises to his feet, grasping Galle's satchel as he stands to make sure that it doesn't tumble to the ground. "You alright?"

Galle frowns — out of concern, or perhaps thoughtfully, it is hard to tell which. She finishes removing the splinter, and she then looks over the tiny wound left in the wake. It doesn't look too concerning, so she does not worry about further care. Though she is then immediately distracted by the sudden gush of blood from the carpenter, and she chuckles slightly. "The Healer arrives and everyone gets hurt," she smirks. But it is a short lived change of expression as Luther is getting up to see to Fayet. She shakes her head, taking her satchel from him. She pulls out a grasp of cloth, and hands it to Luther. "Have her staunch the bleeding. I'll see to her in a moment…"

Fayet holds her hand to her face, trying to keep the flow of blood contained and failing miserably. "I fink it's broken, she says, leaving the poles on the ground and making her way over to the Healer's cart. "SonnuvaBISH."

Luther swaps satchel for cloth, nodding, "Well yeah, we wouldn't want you to feel like you wasted your trip, Galle." He then trots over to where Fayet is, reaching up with both hands, one toward the back of her head and the other, with the cloth, toward her nose, "This is going to hurt like blazes. At least, that's what my First told me when I broke mine as a Second. Galle will be right here."

Galle shakes her head, looking a bit amused. "Come sit," she says softly while Luther helps staunch the bleeding. She gathers up her satchel again, stepping toward Fayet so she can see to the nose — and if it is broken, gently pop it back into place. Her gaze lifts to Luther briefly at his words, and then she nods agreeably to Fayet. "You should be alright… you will just need to take care." She gently feels along Fayet's cheeks, and then to her nose. She stays focused on Fayet. "You can tell everyone you broke it in a fair more heroic way, and we will vouch for you, if you like."

"Don't need to sweet-talk me. Just do it," Fayet says tersely, as she's guided over to sit. She grips Luther's arm, bracing herself.

Luther presses the cloth to the split on Fayet's nose, but after the initial sharp pressure, he's able to use the hand up under her dreads at the back of her neck to steady it and maintain just enough pressure to keep the bleeding down. He nods at Galle's offer to Fayet as he helps lead the carpenter back toward the healer, "Yeah. I figure you totally caught a tree with it, tree bounced right off before it could crush a warrior. You can even use me." His eyes dart to Galle a moment and he clears his throat, "My ego can take it. I was just snoozing, and a tree fell, and you just had to save the poor Warrior."

Galle feels along the nose, and then — without even giving Fayet any warning — pops it back into place with a small pop. She then gently daubs away the rest of the blood while Luther holds her head steady. Her eyes do not even look up at Luther at the suggestion that Fayet could use him, and she even offers a small smile. "Though, you could find a more enjoyable reason to break a nose… I did once visit a young pair of nirons where the man had been so excited, he bonked his nose right into his lover's head. A bruised forehead and broken nose, and two very sheepish young people."

Luther takes the cloth away from Fayet's nose so that Galle can tend to it, glancing over to the healer, then grinning back to the woodworker, and, just as she's about to put Fayet's nose back into place, notes, "So, who is the raccoon now, Fayet?" Galle's words cause him to laugh, "There is always worse, isn't there? It's a wonder they could even look at one another after that." Or perhaps they just had a good sense of humor about it.

To her credit, Fayet is an excellent patient and doesn't yelp much when Galle sets her nose. "No need for funny stories," she declares, once she can talk. "I'm brave enough to tell the truth. If people can't appreciate that bravery, then they're idiots." She gives Luther some side-eye. "It's me. I'm the raccoon now. Where does that leave us?"

Galle nods slightly. "It will take some time to heal, but you'll be alright in the end." Then she glances between Luther and Fayet, looking a bit bemused. Only then does she realize the raccoon joke and shakes her head. "Alright, alright… let's get to it. I want to have the healer tent set up before more accidents happen." She offers them both amused, motherly looks before she starts back to her cart to grab the tarp.

"Looking for vegetables to steal, obviously." Once Galle has seen to Fayet's nose, Luther looses the back of her neck, giving her shoulder a squeeze, then tosses the now-bloodied cloth back to Galle, "Yes Komfi." The grin flashes broad to Galle, and then he half-turns to walk over to where Fayet left the tent poles. In fact, he's looking back so readily that he too trips on the same small stump, arms pinwheeling for a moment before he recovers his balance, spreading his arms out in 'we're all okay here' sort of way. "Ooookay. I think that one's officially a menace."

"Never broke my nose before. Anything I need to do, other than just not fuck it up?" Fayet asks, heading to the cart to try and grab the canvas. "Watch where you're…" she winces as Luther trips over the same stump. "I'm torn between digging it up right now and naming it and making a shrine."

One of the warriors has not seen what is going on, but Sage steps around the corner and blinks at Fayet and the blood. But her eyes move to the stump and she glances around slowly. "<In Trigedasleng> Make it a place to spilt wood and be carved into?" She then gives an upnod to those there.

The Healer scowls a bit at the use of her grandmother's name… to refer to her. But the scowl soon turn to full laughter when Luther trips and almost joins Fayet in the bloodied and broken nosed category. She shakes her head slightly. "Two left feet," she tells him with a scold, though she is looking a bit more relaxed. She glances back to Fayet, and offers the woman a gentle grin. "We might need someone to see to that…" Then she starts to gather up the canvas so she can start shaking it out and preparing to put it up. Then she shakes her head to Fayet. "Just do not put any pressure on it and let it heal. I can give you some salve to put on it when you sleep."

"Toe-hammer," suggests Luther, to the idea of naming the little stump. He offers a nod and a smile to Sage, and then sticks his tongue out at Galle before he turns away from the trio of women to get to setting the tent up. "Two left feet and I can still out-dance you, Galle." Doubtful, but he'll make the teasing boast anyway.

"I like it. Toe-Hammer the Destroyer," Fayet grins as she helps Galle shake out the canvas. Smiling hurts, though, and she relaxes her face. She glances over at Luther. "Prove it. Dance for us. Dance for our amusement."

Sage shakes her head slowly, "Luther, you keep teasing her like that and you are going to be in a world of hurt.." She offers as she moves by him, amusement clear as respect for Galle. The healer gets a small nod and then Sage is moving to look over this stump and she sits down on it as Fayet calls out the challenge. Hey she will have a good seat for it!

"I do not see the need to prove my dancing abilities to you, Luther kom Trikru," Galle says seriously, though there is a hint of a smile on her lips as she does. Then she nods gently to Sage before she kneels to smooth out the canvas. "Now, Luther… get the poles so we can get this tent up. Stop being silly."

"Play me some sweet music to dance to, Little Raccoon, and I will dance," Luther glances to Galle, spreading his teasing around, "Even if she will not." And then he holds up a hand for Sage, balancing the last of the poles against his shoulder, "She already tried to amputate my hand for a splinter. I don't know how much worse it can get." Finally, he comes around the standing poles for the tent, fluttering his dark eyelashes at the Healer, "Get the what up? Oh, you mean these?" And he points to the poles, balanced against one another and prepared for the canvas.

Fayet tsks. "And the good Healer robs us of our show, can you believe this?" she says to Sage. "I don't know if I know any sweet music, but I can hum something once my nose isn't throbbing like a nightmare."

Galle scowls at Luther again, shaking her head. She steps back, giving Luther the space he needs to get the poles figured out even while she looks over at Sage and Fayet. "I do not know what to do with him," she states plainly. "We should find someone who does." Then she gives Luther a haughty look, eyes half-narrowed. "We could always let you put this whole thing up alone," she warns him. Then she looks to Fayet, and her smile redoubles. She crosses her arms now, looking at Luther, brow arched, waiting to see if he will dance.

Luther nods to Fayet, "I know… such a spoilsport." Moving around the in-place poles, he holds out a hand toward Galle to take one side of the canvas, although his smile fades away at her words, well before she provides her warning. "You don't need to do anything with me, Galle." There might be a little bit of snap under the words, for all that he tries to control his tone, "I can find someone who wants to just fine."

Fayet pauses, looking between the two of them, eyebrows raised. She lets out a small, 'huh!' and goes back to straightening out the canvas.

Galle's expression darkens a touch when Luther snaps back his reply. Her mouth sets into a thin line. Then she offers him the canvas, but it is so she can step away. "As you say, Luther." She looks to Fayet in passing. "I should go gather some water and start a boil." There is an unspoken assumption that she knows the two can handle the tent. She is moving toward her cart, aiming to grab the empty buckets and move with a chilly haste to the lake.

Luther takes the canvas because it's that or let it drop. He watches Galle step away, grimacing even as he looks down to gathering the tent material together. He waits until Galle is stalking toward the lake, and then notes to Fayet, "Bad breakup." It's a deadpan statement, followed up with, "Almost twenty years ago." Which doesn't explain at all why things have gone so far downhill so quickly from the easy friendship they shared not long before.

"Uh… huh," Fayet replies, raising one of the far tent poles and securing it firmly into the ground. "Did you kill her cat, too?"

Luther chuckles just a little at Fayet's question, stretching the canvas over the near poles and walking it back to the carpenter, "No, nothing like that. Although Komfi Itl's," that would be Galle's grandmother, also a healer — although more of just a meddling menace these days, "cat took a swipe at me, although I don't think that had anything to do with it." He glances back over the tent and his fingers itch to misfold one corner, just enough to let in a trickle of rain, and he has to clench his hand a moment to stop them. "Let's just say that fifteen-year-old me was pretty bad at everything that wasn't in the Warrior job description."

Fayet grabs the canvas, securing it on her pole. "Name one thing fifteen-year-olds are good at, other than making utter asses of themselves," she replies. "You couldn't trade me enough to be a teenage Second again. Never." She shudders. "I had pimples all over my forehead and gangly arms and my hair… I thought greasing it down every day was a good look…"

Luther laughs more easily this time, nodding his agreement, "Making utter asses of themselves, and in my case, hitting things that needed hitting." He glances toward the lakeshore and Galle, and then back to Fayet, assuring her, "No relation to the problems there." He holds the canvas in place while Fayet secures it, and then moves around to make sure that the tent is standing securely, "And look at you now, strong and confident and beautiful. It's the eyes, really." And then his lips curve up into a broad and teasing smile, "The lovely black raccoon eyes."

"Strong and confident and the best-looking raccoon you'll ever meet," Fayet confirms, hands on her hips. She steps back to look at the tent, one hand fidgeting with her tool belt. "Look at that. Teamwork."

"I don't know, Fayet." Luther brings up his hands, making little grabby-hand gestures, "Have you seen their little hands? Totally adorable. You might need to take action to put yourself up over the top."

Fayet cocks her hip. "You telling me to take action? You still haven't danced, punk." She takes a few steps back, leaning against one of the remaining trees.

"You must have missed me at the celebration then." Luther's laughter is easy and rich now, the tension leeching out of his frame and voice, "I was in rare form, and I don't just mean the drinking and the fire-breathing." And there goes something that puts the tension back into his shoulders, for all that he keeps going, "But I'll admit it, even I'm not good enough to make dancing look good without at least some sort of music."

The Maker eyes him carefully, noticing the tension, but not remarking. Without any additional words, she starts clapping one hand against her thigh for rhythm before whistling a simple, familiar tune. You know. That one. She watches him expectantly.

Luther rolls his eyes at Fayet's insistence, but it is a laughing gesture, and he points a finger at her, "Just because you're injured." Beat pause. "And cute." He nods as he recognizes the tune, and without any further hesitation, launches into a foot-shuffling, hip-rolling dance to match. It's not a thing of beauty, but he doesn't hold back even though he's in full view of half the camp, his hands rising up to clap, matching the rhythm tapped out by the Maker on her leg.

Fayet crows with delight, wincing when her smile makes her broken nose shift a bit, but she applauds nevertheless. "This. This is what I miss by skipping parties. Shame on me," she grins. "Saved myself a hangover, but at what cost?" she asks melodramatically.

Luther takes a bow when the Maker-made music ceases, tossing back his dreadlocks as he straightens again, "That and Break the Table," the drinking game, "and breathing fire, and a fire dance by Sage…" his eyes tighten a little bit, shifting back toward the lakeshore again before he turns a not-quite-full-force smile back to Fayet, "But it may not have been worth the cost of the hangover. Mine was… epic."

Fayet crosses her arms and peers at the Warrior. "Something happened that's bugging you. My unsolicited advice is that you should get it off your chest before it eats into the lining of your stomach," she says, matter-of-factly.

Luther shakes his head, evading rather poorly, "It's nothing important. The hangover was just worse than it should have been." His laugh is a little tight as he adds, "And I got very lucky that I did not burn my beard off." Shaking it off, he steps close and narrows his eyes to peer at the bridge of her nose, "I don't think the swelling will be too bad." Smooth transition — or, you know, not at all, "Although you will have the cutest raccoon eyes by this evening."

Fayet tilts her head and eyes him skeptically at his explanation, but she doesn't press. Instead, she takes a step closer, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Never heard someone call that kind of bruising cute. You have a thing for woodland creatures?"

Luther's grin curls up at one corner as Fayet steps all the closer, shrugging a little helplessly, "Nope, just strong women. I just don't care about cuts and bruises, so I can look past all that." And then his grin flashes all the broader, and he ducks his head, aiming to press a light kiss to Fayet's lips. It's… not the most daring of approaches, wary of her broken nose, and a little skittish — if Fayet shifts back, he's liable to start upright again rather quickly.

Fayet's eyes go wide with surprise, but she doesn't pull away. Arms still crossed against her chest, she leans in, returning the kiss, soft and brief as it is. Afterwards, she eyes him curiously, before breaking into a small, lopsided grin of her own. "Huh," she says, tapping her right hand against the opposite forearm.

Sev has been off in Polis, visiting his family. Or at least, what's left of it. The jingling and rolling sounds of his wagon can be heard before it's actually seen. Because a wagon that large is sorta hard to hide from eyes or ears. Eventually, it rolls up to the outside perimeter of what he assumes is going to be the main wall/gate of the village, and going about to unhook his big ol draft horse from the yoke.

One of Luther's hands comes up to Fayet's elbow, but the kiss doesn't linger long, and then the Warrior is straightening up again. Her response causes him to blink, and then laugh, a hint of color rising to his cheeks, "Well that isn't usually the response I'm looking for. The grin is good, though." And then his eyes lift away from the Maker's features to the wagon as it rolls to a stop, "Saved by the chimes, it seems."

"Try again some time. Maybe you'll get the response you want," Fayet says with a wink, heading over to the wagon. "Sev!" she calls out, waving. "Hauling anything good?"

That wasn't quite the response that Sev planned on walking into. He pauses, giving a look to them both while he starts to unpack his things. "Should I come back later?" While his tone is usually flat, which is also an eternal aspect of him(it's not offensive, he's monotone with everyone), there is a twinge of humor to it. "Be it far from me to step in the way of a couple of people trying to have a good time. I would suggest staying out some of the particular bushes. Unless you wish for a nasty rash." The request of what he's hauling, gets a shrug. "I have a number of things. Things I figured the new settlement would need. Not a great deal since I can only carry so much, but some."

Luther whistles low and descending even further at Fayet's responds, but he laughs despite the falling-object sound. "I'll have to do that." He steps over to Galle's cart then, resting his hands on the sideboards as he watches Fayet move over toward the wagon. Looking up from the Maker, he raises a hand in greeting to the trader-healer and chuckles, "No, I wouldn't want to get Fayet's nose bent further out of shape," then picks up a box of the supplies brought by the just-healer. He carries it around the wagon, and only then does he look back to the lakeshore, his eyes searching out the figure that stalked down in that direction.

"I broke my nose in a terribly heroic and majestic fashion," the Maker explains. "By the way, be careful of that stump over there. It has claimed many lives." She picks up one of the crates as well, helping Sev unload.

There's a bunch of stuff. Preserved food, waterskins, mead. A good amount of mead. General building supplies like a couple of ancient hammers, lengths of rope. General stuff that can be used for building or maintaining the people that will living out here while it's being built. Tents and bedrolls, that kind of thing. "Ah, and for you, Fayet, I found something you may have an interest in. Call it a gift for fixing my wagon." Digging around he hands her an odd shaped tool. "It's called a 'planner'. It was in my mother's trade shop. Said nobody shown an interest in it. Apparently helps shave down wood boards to make them a bit more flat. My mother did not let it go very easily. She is picky about what old stuff she allows. I think because I was her son, I got a discount."

Galle is returning to the camp from the lake, carrying with her two buckets of water. The woman looks more than a little serious — more serious than usual, at that. She does not look up from her work as she hauls the buckets up to where the cooking fires burn. Her pants are wet to the knees, and it looks as if she may have dunked her entire head in the lake at some point as her black hair clings in tight clumps and the water drips heavily down her back. She takes note of Sev's cart, and she offers the fellow Healer a passing smile. "Took you long enough," she protests good-naturedly.

Luther sets the box down, watching Galle walk back up from the lake-side, then looks over his shoulder to Fayet. The Warrior's lips purse, and he shakes his head a little, then gets to work unloading the rest of Galle's cart, stacking the boxes and bags neatly outside the just-raised tent.

Fayet heads over, admiring the planer. "This is fantastic," she says, appreciatively. She runs her fingers over the tool's rusted surface. "Thank you, Sev. This is amazing."

"Galle." Sev nods, tone placid and neutral. "I have something for you. You asked about it some time ago." Climbing up into his wagon, he vanishes inside, the sound bottle clinking and wood thunking around. He's got a lot of stuff in there. Eventually, he returns with a embroidered satchel of some kind. "I ran into an herbalist from the Sankru while I was in Polis. Knowledgeable man. Impressive really with what he knew. I asked him about some of the more rare variety that are not usually seen in Trikru land and…given the amount that I eventually had to trade for, he agreed." he comes back out of the wagon, and offering the satchel to her. "A rare collection of herbs from all over the Coalition. Stuff you would find very useful." Then a pause, looking at both Galle and Fayet in what might amount ot a rare display of humanity. "I ask for only one thing in payment." A light grin, maybe? He taps a finger at his cheek.

The woman murmurs something to a couple of warriors who are standing about, looking like they need something to do — or that's Galle's interpretation of the warriors who were just taking a break for a drink. She gets them to pour the buckets into a pot, and for the fire to be stoked so it will bring the water to a boil. She looks over to Sev when the planer is given to Fayet, and she offers a slight nod of approval. Then she looks up at the placid note, and she tilts her head slightly. When he produces the collection, her brows arch slightly in wonder. She steps forward to accept the satchel, hands closing around the bag to feel its weight. She laughs, her smile broad and genuine. "Sev… thank you. I will see it is put to good use." At his request of payment, the Healer chortles lightly. She steps forward, placing her hand on his shoulder so she can press a warm kiss to his cheek.

Luther works to unload the wagon, but he's not taking the burden far, and the works is soon done. Coming back around the cart, he watches Galle plant that kiss on Sev's cheek, and he chuckles… perhaps a little tightly… "If you keep making trades like that, you will be a very happy man… without a business." The words come with a crooked grin, suggesting that they are intended to be teasing.

Fayet hoists another crate, tsking playfully. "Careful, Sev, I think Luther's getting jealous," she teases. She carries it over to the tent, then returns putting her new, precious planer aside. On the death stump. Because that's a good idea.

"It was a loss, knowing what it would be." Sev admits. "But it is for a good cause. I will simply have plenty of IOUs to hand out eventually. But no, it was for a good cause and I am happy to help where I can." That being said, smooch on the nomad's cheek does make his color rise just slightly. "But kiss on the cheek from a beautiful woman? Clearly, it is worth all the glass in Polis." Because glass is probably hella expensive. "Oh no, I'm not in the market to make anyone jealous. Just being cheeky."

<FS3> Galle rolls Resolve: Success. (7 5 6 5 3 4 6 5 2 6)

Galle just casts Luther a vague glance before she smiles back to Sev. "I'll get these sorted," she offers. She starts to step away, drawing the satchel across her shoulder so it can hang on her hip. She ducks low, grabbing a crate from the pile Luther has just unloaded, and starts into the healer's tent. She'll want a table at some point, but the ground will do just fine. She steps out in time to hear Fayet's words, and the Healer snorts and her expression is a bit veiled. "He is not jealous," she reports simply. "I'm sure he can kiss Sev's cheek too, if he wants."

Luther's eyes flicker over to Fayet, and then he shakes his head, hard, perhaps harder than necessary, "Just jealous that I didn't have the plan first." Sev's words draw a chuckle, and he reaches up to tap his own cheek, "Cheeky indeed." Galle's words draw his head around, and he nods carefully, "I'm sure I could. But I would want something out of the deal." And then his smile flashes broad as he looks back to Fayet, leaning against a stump as he does, "He must want something more out of you, Little Raccoon, since he didn't even charge you a kiss. Just wagon repairs."

When Luther shakes his head like that, she glances over to Galle, then back to Luther, and rolls her eyes. a bit. "We've already discussed this," Fayet retorts airily, deflecting, "I am a master at handling wood. It's all he could ever want or need from me."

"I would, but beards tickle too much." Sev replies simply towards Luther. "Though I am sure he is a fantastic kisser." The dry toned wit, he's good at making something sound as flat as possible while getting in his own brand of humor. "Fayet doesn't have to kiss me, it was merely an added bonus. She does enough work with the gift and I will consider it a fair deal done." The the matter of wood get's a somewhat perplexed wood. Maybe he missed the joke? "She handled plenty of it with fixing my wagon? I was very pleased with the results." That said, he continues unloading his wagon, crate after crate, sack after sack, until he's looking under it for the boxes and whatnot he had tied up under it.

The Healer chortles softly at Sev's note about the beards. Galle continues to work, moving crates and boxes from where Luther unloaded them and into the tent. Once she is done, she brushes her hands together with a mute satisfaction. Then she looks over toward the others, head tilted slightly. "I might see to a walk," she says thoughtfully, turning her eyes toward the hulk of Alpha Station across the river. She shields her hand over her eyes as she looks out across the lake, expression thoughtful.

Luther grins at Fayet, "<In Trigedasleng> I think you'll have to prove that before I believe you, Little Raccoon." His eyebrows waggle, and then he nods to Sev, "<In Trigedasleng> They do. That's half the fun, or so I've been told." He moves over to the side of the wagon, taking items from Sev to hand them down and stack them up in turn. Galle's 'threat' to walk over to Alpha Station draws a grunt from Luther, "<In Trigedasleng> Why? They will all be over here before long anyhow. Two have already come. One just to look and try to steal our carpenter," that causes another grin in Fayet's direction, "<In Trigedasleng> and the other we sent back with blisters. from working a draw-knife."

Fiona comes up the rise, work-gloves covering her hands. She's carrying a not significant length of rope and a bag full of makeshift demarcation spikes. She's looking over her shoulder, most likely waiting for someone else to make their appearance, and as she approaches the group, she offers a cheerfully issued, "Heya," in an easy Tridegasleng greeting.

Fayet goes back to helping Sev unload his wagon, patting his horse's neck in between loads. "<In Trigedasleng> Promises, promises," Fayet says to Luther with a dismissive wave of her hand. On the subject of visiting Skaikru, "<In Trigedasleng> You mean he came, acted like a miserable brat and stormed off," she corrects him. "<In Trigedasleng> I think that child is in need of a spanking."

Good thing Sev has help, otherwise he'd be here forever. Though exposing his home to the view of everyone, he's got a pull-out that slides into the wall when he needs to sleep and a little wood-burning stove so he can cook, feels like he's suddenly naked in front of everyone. "<In Trigedasleng> I'm sure it is, but in years of experience, women have softer lips, hence why I prefer them over men's." Though there is a glance between Fayet and Luther. "<In Trigedasleng> You two need to stop flirting and just get it over with already. The rest of us are in complete suspense." he adds dryly. Though he does turn his gaze over at Galle. He's almost tempted to join her but, looks like she'd rather be alone. By that same token that's when he sees Fiona show up. A headtilt. It's polite at the least.

Galle snorts slightly at Luther, giving him a haughty, "<In Trigedasleng> Because I would like to take a walk." The Healer gathers up her satchel, drawing it across her frame as she does. "<In Trigedasleng> I didn't say I was going to go visit the Sky People, Luther kom Trikru… I just said I was going to take a walk." But this is about on the heels of Fiona's arrival and greeting, and she turns slightly toward the ambassador with a slight, but thoughtful frown. She appears momentarily stalled. She nods her head slightly in returned greeting. She snorts slightly at Fayet's observation of one of the Skaikru, and she shrugs a shoulder. "<In Trigedasleng> Was it one of their children?" Then she looks to Sev at his observation, and she offers a small snort before she nods in agreement, adding, "<In Trigedasleng> Don't tell Luther that… he will get indignant that he can make his own choices."

It is a decently sized collection of things that Tuan has slung over his shoulder, most notable amongst them is an axe which he has been using the entire day to help clear the forest for New Coesbur and to divvy up some wood for construction. His steps have him falling behind Fiona with a gait that shows a struggle to keep up with the load he carries and the heat of the afternoon.

Luther scoffs at Fayet, "<In Trigedasleng> No, rather pointedly, I have gotten no promises from you, Little Raccoon. It's enough to make a man feel unwanted." There's enough light-hearted laughter to the words to take any sting or push from them, and then Sev's words redouble the amusement, "<In Trigedasleng> I'm starting to think I've been turned down enough for one day." Looking back to Fayet, he just shrugs a little, "<In Trigedasleng> Isn't that how all of the Skaikru children act though? Why mention the usual when it is the usual?" Oops. There was a 'heya' there with a slightly different accent. Luther slow-turns around to study the Skaikru bandrona and the Trikru behind her, and then nods his head, "Heya." Galle's additions to the conversation cause him to chuckle again, "<In Trigedasleng> Some choices, I do not need to make myself. And I can see where your eyes go, Galle kom Trikru."

Fayet raises an eyebrow at Luther. "<In Trigedasleng> I don't recall turning anyone down. Odd, that. The door is open, and it has been." She leans against Sev's cart, nodding to Galle. "<In Trigedasleng> If he was one of ours, I would have boxed his ears for that tongue." She waves a little to Tuan and Fiona.

Well, people aren't being rude to her, so that's a start. Galle's frown does cause Fiona's easy smile to falter a touch as does Lutther's commentary, but she doesn't push the issue to find out why, turning instead to face the approaching Tuan. "<In Trigedasleng> Did you pick a spot yet?" she asks, patting the rope. Apparently the intention is to mark out the parameters of Tuan's dwelling.

"<In Trigedasleng> It's amusing at the very least. Make me feel like a young man again." Sev almost seems to opine that very fact, but he looks spry enough. Certainly not enough to label himself with the title of 'old man'. "<In Trigedasleng> I had forgotten what that particular game is like. Usually, I just straight up and ask, deciding that flirting is a game for the young. Or perhaps when you get to my age, you simply don't have time to beat around the bush, as they say." That said, he hops out of his wagon as the laste crate is set out. "<In Trigedasleng> As an example, here. Ahem. Galle!" he calls over at the fellow healer. "<In Trigedasleng> Would you care for company on your walk and perhaps sex later?" Either no shame, or just simply a joke.

Tuan shakes his head a bit to Fiona as she asks her question. "Not yet, I was waiting a bit to consider where others will be setting up. It will need to be in an area for my Sister to work from as well." He speaks in English, for Fiona's sake with that part before he glances towards other Trikru, "<In Trigedasleng> Has the laying out of places begun? I do not wish Ginia's plot to be far."

Luther's comment of being turned down causes her dark brow to lift slightly — but only slightly. She is taking meaningful steps away from the camp now, as if as a show of stubbornness. When Sev's words call out to her, her brows lift again — this time with amusement. "<In Trigedasleng> As long as you do now dawdle, Sev kom Trikru!" Her smile is bright then, and she gestures him to come along if that is his wish. She looks back to Fayet, offering a departing, "I don't see why you couldn't have boxed his ears anyway… he was in our camp." And then she is turning, heading down the grassy hill.

Luther nods to Fayet, a grin springing back to his lips, "<In Trigedasleng> Good, it would be a shame to cut such entertainment and possibility short." Sev's response, however, causes Luther to scoff, "<In Trigedasleng> No sense of poetry. I doubt I'm more than five years younger than you, and I'm definitely not too young to flirt. It's a good…" he considers, "…quarter of the fun." He looks from Sev to Galle then and shakes his head, responding instead to her commentary on boxed ears, with a good helping of sarcasm, "<In Trigedasleng> Because that would be a diplomatic incident." He looks back to Tuan and Fiona, "No sites have been chosen yet. We are starting with common areas."

Fiona is stubbornly insisting on Tridegasleng. Because she needs the practice, and perhaps a small point of pride, and because this is a Trikru place. "<In Trigedasleng> I don't know if this is how you do things but I am - we are - good to help." This to the others in general, though she occasionally darts glances at Tuan. "<In Trigedasleng> If there is another task more helpful we can do that."

There's a glance Sev gives to both Luther Fayet, in a perhaps 'that's how you do it' sort of way, making a kind bowing gesture with his hand. Class act, yo. "<In Trigedasleng> If you kids will excuse me," Oh now, that is a joke. "<In Trigedasleng> Sometimes, the less words, the better." Which is completely ironic because he is a poet of sorts. But only when he needs to be, off at a jog to meet up with Galle. "<In Trigedasleng> I have been meaning to speak with you anyways."

"<In Trigedasleng> The last thing we need is that little boy crying to his kruheda about how the monstrous Maker brutalized him," Fayet sighs, rolling her eyes dramatically. She looks over at Fiona and her continued attempt to speak Trigedasleng and gives her a small, approving nod. She smirks as Sev trots off. "<In Trigedasleng> Go easy on him, Galle" she calls out. "<In Trigedasleng> His bones are brittle!"

Galle looks over her shoulder toward Fayet at her called words, and she snorts. "<In Trigedasleng> Good thing I know a tea for that!" Then she looks back to Sev as he catches up with her. She offers the Healer a small smile, and she folds her arms lightly at her chest — not stand-offish, just relaxed. "<In Trigedasleng> You do realize we are leaving them with no one to see to their idiocy if they decide to do something stupid?" The question is posed lightly with the smallest hint of a smile.

Tuan glances at Fiona and offers her a smile, "<In Trigedasleng> Perhaps the best thing we can do is to continue to work on removing trees in the area. At least until the community buildings have been planned out." He nods towards the axe he is carrying, "<In Trigedasleng> I can chop, you can help me strip the trees after?"

Luther shakes his head at Sev's response, watching the man trot off before snorting a laugh at Fayet's call. And then he looks back to Fiona, "<In Trigedasleng> There are trees to fell, stumps to uproot, logs to peel, branches to remove, brush to clear," He pauses them, his eyebrows lifting somewhat in challenge, "<In Trigedasleng> There is also always need for someone to carry water and food to those working." It may be a little test. His tone certainly suggests it. And then he glances over to Fayet, and a mischievous smile blossoms on his features. Reaching behind his back, he glances to Tuan a moment, and then pulls out his throwing axe, a hatchet really, and flips it around to offer out the haft to Fiona, "<In Trigedasleng> This looks about your size. You could start felling one of the big trees, yes?"

Fiona accepts the hatchet gingerly. It's clear she's never used one in her life. With purse of her lips, she looks between Luther and Tuan. Pausing a moment, she says, "<In Trigedasleng> If it is not too much time, someone teach me how to cut, no, chop?" Is that the right word? her expression silently asks before she adds, "<In Trigedasleng> If it is better to bring food and water, I bring food and water. Whatever is most help."

"<In Trigedasleng> Water, or something stronger," Fayet says with a small chuckle. A bruise is starting to blossom across the bridge of her nose and under her eyes. "<In Trigedasleng> Only cut the /marked/ trees," she instructs Fiona. Then she turns to Luther. "<In Trigedasleng> What's that look on your face? It can't be anything good," she says, canting her head.

Tuan tries not to chuckle at the small joke of cutting a tree with a hand hatchet, barely managing to stifle it. He looks at Fiona and offers her a warm smile, "<In Trigedasleng> I will show you want to do Fiona. When you grow tired of the work, we can shift to bringing water."

Luther laughs good-naturedly as Fiona reaches for the throwing axe, shaking his head, "<In Trigedasleng> If you want to cut down trees, get a real axe. To chop with," he confirms. He nods to the one Tuan has, then beckons for the weapon back. Fayet's question causes him to chuckle further, "<In Trigedasleng> Just having some fun. I wanted to see if she would take it."

"<In Trigedasleng> Be nice to the Skaigirl. She's trying," Fayet clucks, walking over to pat the girl on the shoulder, if she lets her. "<In Trigedasleng> What do you do for your people?" she asks Fiona.

There's things Fiona could say, of course. She regards Luther a surveying eye, mouth curving in a smile. Ever get the feeling someone's plotting revenge? Yeeeaaaah. Except what could a tiny Skaikru girl possible do to a big scary Trikru man? Probably nothing. Probably. Her smile to Fayet is a thousand degrees more genuine. "<In Trigedasleng> I'm a Councilor - and advisor to our Chancellor, Kane, and a liaison between him and the Commander, and Trikru and Skaikru. We'll see what I become in ahead days. I am Fiona kom Skaikru. I am not Ambassador of the Coalition, but some still use this word. Just not as important. What do you do?" Tuan's offer is met with a grateful smile. "Mochoff, ai hod."

The last bit towards him has Tuan catching midstep as he was walking off to fetch some water before getting to work. His eyes snap over to Fiona and he tilts his head before coughing some. "<In Trigedasleng> I'll get us some water and then we can get to work on a couple of trees." The barest hint of blush touches his cheeks as he quickly turns.

"<In Trigedasleng> Don't feel bad, I give everyone trouble." And then he chuckles at Fayet, gesturing over to Fiona, "<In Trigedasleng> That was nice, wasn't it?" He nods at the distinction that Fiona places on her role, "<In Trigedasleng> Yes, the difference between an emissary and an Ambassador." Both words are 'bandrona,' but there is a definite difference between them, "<In Trigedasleng> My Komfo," grandfather, "<In Trigedasleng> was Ambassador to the Coalition. It is a noble role, as is that of emissary." He beckons for the weapon back again, even as he smirks over at Tuan, "<In Trigedasleng> Watch out for the stump, Toe-hammer. It has already drawn blood today. It hungers."

"<In Trigedasleng> I'm a Maker," Fayet replies to Fiona. "<In Trigedasleng> I do wood. I do it good." She grins, patting the girl on the back again. When Toe-hammer is mentioned by name, she looks over to the accursed stump. "<In Trigedasleng> I am almost afraid to pull it up, for fear that it might seek revenge."

Fiona considers the axe in her hands. It takes her a moment to consider how best to return it, and then carefully reverses it, the same way Luther offered it to her, but with less flourish. "<In Trigedasleng> Maybe someday I will be Ambassador, but that is up to Kane and Lexa." Tuan is regarded fondly as he excuses himself, and then Fayet's declaration of her occupation earns her a fascinated stare. "<In Trigedasleng> What kinds of things do you make? Houses or chairs or small pieces? There is a a way…the word I know is," she switches to English, "Whittling."

Luther takes the hilt of the throwing axe back from Fiona, "Mochof." He flips the handle over the head, catching it again when it makes a weight-boosted full rotation, then tucks the weapon behind his belt at the small of his back. Fayet's words draw a grin to his lips again, and he shakes his head, "<In Trigedasleng> Burn it. Fire solves most things, I've found." Even that dire advice is accompanied by his grin, however, until Fiona's unfamiliar English word causes him to frown. He glances to Fayet, then shrugs slightly, shaking his head. Apparently, he doesn't know that one.

"<In Trigedasleng> Furniture. Buildings. Roofs. Hate roofs," Fayet grins at her editorialization. "<In Trigedasleng> I don't know this whittling, sorry," she says with an earnest shrug. She gives Luther a lopsided smirk. "<In Trigedasleng> If you wish to anger the vindictive stump spirit, that's on you." She stretches, rolling her shoulders. "<In Trigedasleng> I should go back to town and get some supplies." Supplies meaning 'something for the pain', but she'd never admit that aloud. "<In Trigedasleng> Don't die while I'm away," she tells them.

"<In Trigedasleng> I'll do the best I can." Fiona says with a laugh. "<In Trigedasleng> It's good to meet you, Fayet." She looks to Luther, admitting, "<In Trigedasleng> I don't know your name, though."

"<In Trigedasleng> Everybody hates roofs, until it rains." Luther's teeth flash white in a grin to Fayet, "<In Trigedasleng> And then only you hate them, Little Raccoon." Fayet's claim to go back to town causes his grin to fade a little, and he gestures to where Sev and Galle each unloaded their respective carts or wagons, "<In Trigedasleng> These aren't enough supplies, Fayet?" Oh, right, his name. Looking back to Fiona, he touches his chest, and then glances down and frowns, only now noticing that he isn't wearing his usual necklace. Pushing that distraction aside, he responds, "<In Trigedasleng> Luther kom Trikru. I am a Warrior from Tondc."

"<In Trigedasleng> Different supplies. Don't sulk. I'll be back. And it was nice to meet you, too, Fiona." And with that, Fayet is off.

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