Day 007: Checking In and Checking Out
Summary: Grey checks up on two more of the ex-prisoners, and ends up putting on a show.
Date: 9 May 2016
Related: We Are Grounders Story Arc.
Grey Ruth Silas Devin Asher Morgan Fiona 

Primary Passenger Hold, The Dropship
This was once the main passenger cabin of the dropship, holding rows and rows of seats and a small communications console along one wall. Since landing, the seats have been removed, and it has been turned into a combination sick-bay and storage. The deck, ceiling, and walls are all bare metal, and several "wings" jut out from the main area, forming little cubbies that still provide exactly zero privacy. One of the cubbies has been repurposed as a makeshift medbay, with an equally-makeshift table and several small bundles of supplies. There is usually someone sitting around here tending to the medical supplies or just watching over them. Two ladders descend to the cargo hold below, one of them also rising up to the top level of the dropship through a hatch that can be locked from below.
Day 7 After Landing

Many of the people Grey wanted to talk to after the group returned to camp were asleep by the time he got around to them, so the majority of his visits have to wait until the morning after. At some point in the night, he got his scalp wound looked at, and his face a little cleaned up. He's also wearing the shirt of the man he killed the day before, and isn't that odd. But at least it is neither bloodstained nor shredded by swords or arrows. He's added the stolen sword as well, and now comes up the ladder to the second floor of the dropship. The hatch leading up to the third is blocked from above, closing in the prisoners and their guards, but Grey heads instead for the makeshift medbay.

Though not as experienced as some of the more seasoned Go-Sci teenagers, Ruth's hand was steady the night before once they'd all gotten back from the battle. She was mostly unharmed, offering a numb sort of aid that wasn't especially helpful but wasn't exactly from a place of scorn, either. She managed to grab a scant few hours of sleep after the worst of the assorted injuries were dealt with. It was likely her first sleep in days.

"If I have to tell people not to move one more time…" This is said to a redheaded delinquent nearby as an aside, one she's been aiding through the worst of it. They both look like they've been through a second battle, what with their adhoc treatments and attempted miracles. When Grey approaches, Ruth turns her head all too slowly to face him, a sharp once-over given. "Did you fuck yourself up again?" she demands.

<FS3> Silas rolls Survival: Good Success.

Inside the medbay, in his little corner and a decent distance away from the other folks is Silas- sitting with his legs crossed as his back against the metal of the dropship, the bundle of horse hide he got himself from the fallen beast in his lap. In his right hand is a small dropship metal wannabe bowie knife, with his left hand on the blade as he quietly pushes it down and along as he 'tans' the hide, letting the remains fall down and into a small mock bowl from some more dropship metal.

Silas has been in here since he got back from the battle, letting himself recover from the worst of the injuries he sustained in the battle. If Ruth had bothered with him, he would have been one of the more cooperative patients. Silas' eyes slip up as he hears hear addressing someone who enters, who turns out to be Grey. Silas gives the man a quiet nod before he looks back and down to the hide he tans, his left hand pulling a bit back as he continues down the folded hide slowly as he works. "I put the grounder leaders sword in with the rest of the loot. As well as with some of the horse meat." he says, raising his voice somewhat to let Grey know.

Devin sits against one of the walls in the primary passenger hold with his legs crossed and a stone in one hand and a piece of scrap metal that he is idly sharpening. He looks as if he's been here for hours. The end of the metal he holds has been wrapped in a ripped piece of cloth. His eyes are focused up at the closed hatch where the prisoners are being held. He has a stoic look on his face despite his thinly pursed lips. He remains silent as he slowly slides the piece of metal against the rock. As Grey enters the medbay and people start to speak, he looks towards them for a moment before he looks back up at the hatch.

Grey snorts in amusement at Ruth's demand, reaching up to touch the scabbed cut on his left brow, "Naw. Actually came to check on you," he looks past the young woman to Silas and the others, "And everyone else got nabbed at the river or hurt in the fight." He nods to Silas, "Good, good. Cookie'll be able to do somethin' with horse, I'm sure. And we've been splitting up the weapons for whoever dropped 'em." He pats the heavy blade at his own hip. "So how's everyone feelin'?" The scrape of metal from elsewhere on the level causes him to glance over to the smaller teen sharpening the knife, "Ruth, Devin, I'm damned sorry we couldn't get to you sooner. We did everything we could. Ruth, real sorry to you in particular, we looked 'round for you after the ambush, but figured you'd join up with us again at camp."

Asher, who was one of the few to not sustain any injury, makes his way up into the primary passenger hold a few moments after Grey. He has his sword strapped across his back and the axe he took from one of the dead Grounders hanging off his belt. He has not however changed his shirt, spattered with blood still. He did at least seem to clean himself up. He eyes those present, canting his head to the side and eyes Devin for a moment longer than the others. "Don't go killin' Steak and New Boots. Might be worth keepin around." Or he plans on killing it himself for his own stash of meat.

Grey's apology has Ruth's expression flattening blankly. "You didn't sic them on our group," she tells him matter-of-factly, looking away to pick at an inflamed scratch on her elbow. "Don't apologize for something you can't control." She lays down these directives so easily, despite her sitting in a lackadaisical sprawl on the floor half-leaned against the wall. Her eyes drift to Silas, a brief thing. "Don't move too much," she tells him in a lowered voice.

Silas quietly eyes Grey as he speaks, tilting his head to the side before he trains his attention back upon his tanning, drifting his knife down along the hide and lifting and bringing it back up to where the hairs that are left begin before swiping carefully down again. "I'm keeping some for myself, of course." he says, a lopsided smirk on his face as the words come out with a tinge of amusement. "But you guys get the most of it." When Grey speaks up about splitting the weapons, Silas mentions, "Yeah- but I want at least /one/ of those swords. After all, I did some like- movie dueling shit with that bow hag." says Silas, half-sarcastically.

Silas falls silent for a bit, letting folks speak while he continues to tan and pull back the hide before he pauses and lets his gaze rise to look at Devin, "By the way." he says, staring at the young man he begins to address, "What exactly did those folks do to you guys?" he asks, his right brow arching somewhat before he looks over to Ashers appearance, listening to him speak as he eyes him over, snickering. "You really named it that? Ah well." he says, tilting his head to the side. "If it /does/ die, bring the hide to me and I'll make you some 'New Boots'." he offers- again only half sarcastically as he begins to start tanning away at the hides.

Hearing Ruths words, Silas pauses his tanning as he looks over towards Ruth, staring at her for a moment before pursing his lips- "Let me finish, I'll be done soon." he replies, pulling back the hide and continuing in a bit slower and more compact strokes, at the very least not moving AS much as he was before.

Devin glances towards Grey as he makes his apology, remaining silent and not making any return before he looks back to the hatch. He continues to sharpen the piece of metal, pausing only when Silas speaks to him. He glances down at his hands for a few moments before he looks up to Silas. He remains silent for a few moments before he shakes his head. "Nothing. They tended to our wounds, fed us and that was it. They tied us up when they were moving us, but that was about the worst of it." He says simply before he goes back to sharpening the piece of metal and looking back up at the hatch.

Morgan comes into the 'medbay', stripped to the waist except for the makeshift bandages on his chest and left arm. He's obviously made some effort to get cleaned up since there are faint streaks of blood and dirt instead of blotches of it. He frowns, seeing so many people, and looks them over searching for injuries. "Something wrong?"

Grey offers Asher a nod as well, then focuses his attention back on the folks he came to apologize to. Ruth's words earn a nod, "I didn't. But I want you all to hear the promise I made to everyone out there." One hand gestures toward the nearest of the dropship's walls, "Doesn't matter to me who it is, but if one of our people gets taken, I'm comin' for them." It doesn't have the power here, without the crowd, and he can feel it, shrugging a little uncomfortably. "The time for everyone lookin' out for themselves is over, so far as I'm concerned. We gotta work together, or somethin' down here's gonna kill us." Silas' description of the Grounder draws his attention up toward the hatch, and he shrugs, "I hope they can tell us somethin' useful. Or that they do. Or else this is just a big risk." Asher's question causes him to shake his head, "Naw. I was just checkin' in on Ruth, Devin, and Silas."

A shrug is offered by Asher and he seems to not comment on the divvying of weapons. He has his axe. He isn't putting it in a pile for distribution. He had to kill people to get it. It's his. He eyes Silas for a moment, and shrugs, "Sure. Not sure if I'm keeping it alive or not yet." To be fair, having a live horse could actually be useful to the camp. But again, that's his horse now. He kept it from getting away. Someone is a bit territorial. "You interrogated that Grounder yet? Someone said she spoke English."

Ruth dips her head in the tiniest of nods Silas' way, her legs drawn closer to her torso. She makes a small sound of agreement with Devin's experience, the side of her thumb worrying at the corner of her mouth to conceal a bleak frown. Grey earns himself a list of Ruth's head to the side. She's studying him as one might when trying to decipher the end-result of a puzzle that's missing quite a few pieces. "That's… nice." When the redheaded girl taps on her shoulder, she holds up a finger and leans closer to exchange a quick word before she turns back to the relatively sullen gathering. "It's kind of cramped up here." Her meaning is quite clear, despite her brief lack of an assertive tone.

Leaning somewhat, Silas quietly eyes shift to Ruth as he looks down to his hide. Yeah, he's nowhere near done. But, without feeling the need to really say that- Silas simply continues along with his tanning. He looks to Devin as he recaps his experience with them, furrowing his brows before he nods. "Odd, but good." says Silas, before he looks up and over towards the upper hatch. "Sounds civilized for spear monkeys." he remarks with a faint shrug, but he looks back down to the hide he works on. When Morgan asks if there's something wrong, he looks down to himself and scans over his bandaged wounds before looking back and shaking his head. "Nothing new, but my chest is going to be a really big scab soon." he says before he looks to Asher, his right brow quirking up as he hears that the leader can speak English. "We haven't already? Maybe we can get.. Who is it… Phillip to? With a guard, of course. I heard he likes to talk."

Devin's eyes narrow a bit at Silas as he hears what he calls the Grounders, the corners of his lips falling downwards slightly. "Don't call them that." He says with a firm voice, his eyes glancing towards Ruth and Morgan for the briefest of moments before he returns his attention back to the hatch and the sharpening of the metal piece.

"She does." Morgan tells Asher. "I don't know if she speaks it since she never did but she obviously understands it." He glances over at Silas and nods. "Take your shirt off and let me see how it's doing." While he's doing that (or not), Morgan steps over to Asher and extends a hand. "Thanks for coming."

Grey shakes his head at Asher, "I haven't yet. Miles and Katie were up there all night." They would be a couple of 'reliable' sorts who can handle weapons alright and who stayed back at camp instead of joining the ambush. "I'm about to head on up and send at least one of 'em down to get some rest. Look in on both the captives." And then he looks down at his new shirt, "Although I suppose I should change back into my other shirt. No sense goin' up there with a dead friend's shirt and sword on." He nods a bit at Silas, "Figure half the camp's gonna want a chance. But there's always gonna be two people up there at any time. Including someone who can fight. Those two are our only source of info on the Grounders — if they can do more than understand," that's said with a nod to Morgan, "And if we're gonna have any hope of peace, we need that info, not dead or escaped Grounders." Finally, he looks back to Ruth, "It's not supposed to be nice. Just supposed to be real. We're all part of The One Hundred. We can't keep seein' ourselves as a bunch of random assholes anymore, not if we're gonna survive."

The extended hand from Morgan causes Asher to raise a brow just a bit. He's not used to being thanked for things. He takes the hand and shakes it, canting his head to the right. "Uh…sure." Yeah. "Glad I could help." Hard to say if he actually means that. The well armed teen glances to Grey, and runs a hand through his hair, drawing it away from his face, "Let me know if you need help up there." Can he be trusted? He didn't hesitate to kill the Grounders in the fight, instead of going to knock them out like others attempted.

"A lot has changed in a day. Two days?" Ruth ponders the time she's been away from the camp, chewing contemplatively on the inside of her cheek. "I'm not sure." She eyes Grey critically, her frown somewhat muted by the remnants of how they spent the previous night. It weighs heavy, and at least somewhat inspires the slouch she's currently invested in. "A wall, weapons training… I think I'll stay inside."

Having been called out, Silas looks over to Devin- a slightly confused expression and a defensive tone to his words. "What, they're basically neanderthals- aren't they?" he asks, perhaps a bit more honestly confused than he is trying to sound insulting. When Morgan comes over and offers to check his wounds- he gives a nod. "Right, R over there's been kind enough to look at me, but I won't argue with not getting infected." he says, setting down his hide and knife next to himself as his hands come over and carefully slip his shirt off, what mud he had on him gone and bandages wrapped diagonally over his chest in a loose and vague X shape. His hands come back, grunting somewhat in pain and somewhat due to the awkward movements as he attempts to fiddle with the bandages before ultimately sighing and turning his back to Morgan, "Mind helping me with these?". After turning, Silas looks over to Grey, "I'll go up there and guard folks when I'm mostly healed up."

Devin looks back to Silas again, the same look he gave him before returning to his face. Just a little bit of anger starting to creep into his features. "No. They're not." He says simply. "Don't call them monkeys or Neanderthals. They're neither. They are just like us." He says as he sets the rock down next to him, still holding onto the piece of metal. He starts to stand from where he was sitting. "If you call them that again, I'll beat your ass. I don't care if we're friends or not." He says, pointing his finger at the kid. He remains looking at him for a few moments before he glances back around the room again before he picks up the rock and moves towards another section of the room.

Morgan nods to Asher and when Silas has taken his shirt off, goes over to help him remove the bandages. He glances at Devin before adding on "No, they aren't neanderthals. It's only been a century since they were just as civilized as we are." The murderer says to the room full of murderers and other criminals. "They learned to survive on this shithole of a planet just like we need to do and are much, much better at it at the moment." Looking over at Grey, he says "I'll want to be there to talk to her. Probably for most of it. I tried to talk to her a lot while we were prisoners. She helped us too, warning us about what not to do when others were around, especially Bear Mask." Which he sometimes ignored but still, she tried.

Grey shrugs at Ruth, "We didn't ask to be sent to this world, but it's the one we're livin' in now. A whole lot's changed in the week since we landed." Silas' words cause Grey to step forward, moving slightly to place himself between Devin and Silas, "We don't know what they are yet. The ones at the ambush looked plenty human, but who knows." He turns to Devin then, "But none of us are beating each other up over Grounders." All of the offers to help cause him to shrug, "I don't care who wants to talk to either of the prisoners, just so long as no one's alone with them, and one of the folks up there is on guard. I guess I'll draw up a damned watch rotation." Worst part of being a Guard, right there. Beyond, you know, floating people.

While Morgan and Devin stand up for the humanity of the grounders, Ruth remains curiously silent. She slips a sharpened stick (likely the same from last night) from the bag now constantly slung across her body to tap its blunt edge against the floor. The rhythm (or lack thereof) seems to relax her further against the wall. She adds nothing of import to this particular discussion.

A glance is spared for Devin, and Asher narrows his gaze at him and his words, "Back off." he states coldly, "He risked gettin' killed to bring your ass back. Show some fucking gratitude." Asher turns to face Devin, continuing to watch him now. He spares a glance to Silas, then back to Devin, head tilted to the right.

Devin nods his head in agreement with Morgan, looking to Grey. "I want to be there too. Morgan and I have probably the most experience talking to her along with Ruth. We already have a relationship with her." He glances towards Ruth for a moment before he looks to Asher for a long moment before he shakes his head slightly and moves back to the wall and sits down next to it, and leads back against it.

Silas is looking more and more confused- though now with a tinge of anger, and a lot more defensiveness to his voice. "No need to be a fucking asshole, dude, I was just.." he begin to retort as Devin begins to move, but who is he to talk. With Silas' bandages falling onto his lap, he thinks it over for a moment before he continues, "I just figured cause… Y'know, they look the part." he says, quieting somewhat. When Morgan speaks, his looks back at him for a moment as he takes his words in- and then quietly seems to register about how similar their little societies are in the grand scheme of things. He purses his lips, letting out a snort before he shrugs his shoulders. "I guess… But at the very least we didn't fucking say hi by killing their folks." When Morgan mentions Bear Mask, he pauses and looks back, "Bear what?" he prods, glancing to Asher as he defends him and offers a small nod in the way of thanks- and agreement, before looking back to Morgan as he continues to inquire.

In terms of injuries, Silas' big red flags are the two long and fairly deep slashes across his chest, making up a loose X that the bandages were barely able to mimic. They aren't exactly deep enough that everything in his chest is dropping out, but any deeper and it would've been a much bigger problem than it is. They seem to have been cleaned, and are scabbing over, but with the tanning of his hide it looks like the movement has been doing its toll and any one exaggerated movement can open his wound, or getting the shit kicked out of him by Devin alternatively.

"Leave him alone." Morgan frowns at Asher then looks over Silas' injuries. "We're all going to be horribly scarred at this rate. We need needles. And something to use as sutures. The… what did you call them?" he asks Grey. "Grounders? They don't use them. I'm starting to heal and I'd really like to sew the edges together to minimize scarring before it's too late." Some mild vanity there it seems. "It'll also mean less scar tissue." Which is thicker and less flexible so it's also practical. "You need to stop with the scraping." he tells Silas. "You're constantly pulling at the edges and they're not going to heal well. Do you even know how to tan anyway?" Looking around the cramped, makeshift corner, he grumbles. "I want a real medbay, damn it. How am I supposed to do anything in this thing with just rocks and stick and plants?" He's a doctor, damn it, not a tribal shaman.

Ruth isn't even a doctor. She worked under her father (and sparingly at that) and rarely sought to leave her comfort zone when it came to dealing with patients back on the Ark. The fact that she was not urged to do so likely had something to do with her less-than-stellar bedside manner. "Yeah?" she challenges Morgan dryly, "I want a real bed, Blackwood. I want the past few days to not have happened. Floating us would have been less painful."

She gestures to the lot of them with a brief sweep of her hand. "I watched you guys kill yesterday. Like, you actually put a weapon into somebody with the intention of not making them not breathe anymore. That's huge." To some people, maybe. She makes a point of not looking Asher's way in particular. She also doesn't bother including her own very, very brief stint on the field. Go figure. "This sucks, but we'll work with what we have."

"No, fuck that. You're gonna threaten one of your own because he called one of them a name?" Asher apparently isn't backing down on this. "We might need them to survive, but you better believe that if it was them or us, they would pick their own. You better start knowing what fuckin' side your on. Quick." This isn't specifically directed at Devin, just sort of shouted at the direction he is in. Asher glances over at Ruth at her comment, and he rolls his eyes, "Coulda tried giving em flowers I guess. Or waited for them to kill the hostages?"

Grey shakes his head at Devin, "No one's gonna be there all the time. I'm sure everyone who wants a shot will get one. Cool you're damned jets, everyone." Scowling over to Morgan and Devin, he nods sidelong to Asher and adds, "I've gotta wonder though, what the hell went on when you were captives though, that you're backin' the people who killed two of ours without warning, shot Q in the damned back, hurt both of you, held a knife to Q's throat and to yours," he gestures to Devin, "And then held you captive. I mean, what the hell, guys?" He throws up his hands, then looks over to Ruth, shrugging broadly, "Some of us have done it before." It's a hard-ass facade, but it's not a great one, especially not when the fingers of his right hand are writhing and flexing in discomfort, remembering the feel of his club impacting with the man's head, vibrating up the metal rod. At least he had been using a blunt instrument, so there were no gouts of blood.

As one of the hostages in question, Ruth flushes a bright pink and is at quite a loss of words for at least four and a half seconds. "Shut up, Kholmin," she finally mutters Asher's way, her fingers combing antsily then through her hair. At least she can console herself. She gives a rather jerky shrug of her shoulders at Grey's disbelief, her position shifting so her legs are crossed comfortable at the ankles.

"I'm not defending anyone, Grey. I think they're trash. But they're trash who didn't torture us. Instead, they kept Quinn alive and put poultices on all their more serious injuries." She presses her hands hard against her midsection to swipe off some dried-up blood from the now stiff black cloth. "And that's some fake shit there. Yesterday was something else." Likely recalling her own initial reaction (the loss of her berry-and-water diet) her flush gives way to a colorless frown. "

Devin's anger is evident in his face as he looks to Asher. "Just because they are different from us, they're our enemy?" He looks to Grey. "They didn't do anything to us while we were there. They treated our wounds, fed us, made Quinn better. She's alive because of them." He takes a deep breath. "They didn't beat us. They didn't torture us. They didn't do fucking shit to us. Yeah, they held a knife to my throat, but I don't blame them for it. Maybe you insulted them when you kicked over the rocks. Maybe we were entering a place sacred to them. Maybe we were in their territory and they were defending it. What would we have done if the roles were reversed?"

Quietly looking over to Morgan, Silas' right brow perks up as he's told that he needs to stop his 'tanning' of the hide. "You know what else stops scar tissue? Not getting injured." he says, eyeing him carefully for a second before he looks over to Ruth as she speaks and then back down to his hide. "We need protection against them- and that doesn't mean just having a pointier stick, that means also having something strong that can take their hits." he says, his left hand pointing firmly down to the hide. "Hide can be made into leather, that leather can be boiled and hardened- which is good for helmets, bowls, and good for protection against blunt objects. Unboiled is better for slashing and the like." he adds.

"I've read about tanning, but you and me both know I couldn't ever get a lot of practice. I think the scar tissue is worth if it I can make something that'll mean this doesn't happen again" he says to Morgan, pursing his lips and arching his brows. "You guys can go and have your Stockholm syndrome- but at least understand that they fucking attacked us unprovoked. I don't think that's very neighbourly." This, however, is said to no one in particular. He looks back to Ruth, "Don't make it sound like I enjoyed it. I killed my first man that day trying to save you, and then I killed more trying to make sure I didn't die doing so" he says. Damn, these words getting thrown around must be getting to Silas, who looks back to Morgan, "Listen- can you make this quick? I don't want to be here anymore. I should be going out and getting clay so we can have some god damn pots for a change." When Devin says what we would have done if the roles reversed, his face flushes with anger. "We wouldn't have fucking kidnapped them is what!" he basically shouts, his right hand grabbing tightly onto his knee, fingers digging into the flesh.

<FS3> Silas rolls Resolve: Good Success.
<FS3> Ruth rolls Resolve: Success.

"Of course they'd pick their own over us." Morgan agrees in a placating tone. "Just like we do." That way of thinking is the one thing he has most in common with them. It's why he was Boxed. "And when she wouldn't surrender, I picked up a weapon and started fighting right along with you all. No one is backing them. But like you said, we need them. And we need to somehow convince her to help us even though /we/ killed /her/ people and she's probably going to have the same exact reaction to us that you are to them. So insulting them or holding them in contempt isn't going to help here." He looks at Silas and pats him on the shoulder. "Go do what you need to do. But if you think no one here would have taken a prisoner, you have a higher opinion of everyone in this camp than I do." Then he looks from Silas to Grey to Asher. And then even at Ruth and Devin then back. "Has anyone considered that some of us might be related to them? We and them were exactly the same a hundred years ago. She could be someone's great aunt."

Grey blinks in disbelief at Devin, although there's a sudden slight tightness around his eyes at the mention of kicking over the pile of rocks. Instead of indulging in his guilt, however, he lashes out verbally, "I'd damned well talk to people before I shot arrows in them. That's just not…" he searches for the right word and "…human." Shaking his head, he growls, "And no, they're our enemy because they shot us full of arrows." The anger is also a good excuse to ignore Ruth calling him out on his false front. "And no, Morgan, I wouldn't have taken someone prisoner for walking into our damned camp, or whatever. I would have asked them who they were and what they were damned well doing there before I shot them full of arrows." Not that he has a bow. Throwing up his hands, he shakes his head, "Screw this. I'm gonna go change and take over upstairs. I think maybe it's a damned good idea if none of the folks who were prisoner get to be anywhere near the captives if you've all got this…" he waves at Silas, "Stocking Home Syndrome."

Asher glances to Ruth, smirking at her, "No." And then he looks back at Devin, shaking his head, "No, they are our enemies because they fucking killed our people for no fucking reason. They started this shit, not us. So yeah, they are my enemy, until I decide otherwise. Everyone else can feel however they want about it. You want to love em? Go ahead. Go be a Grounder Pounder. Go live with em. Whatever you want. But you take sides with them? Attack one of your own to defend them? I'll crush your skull and I won't think twice about doin it." Apparently he and Grey are at least somewhat on the same side of this. He looks to Grey, nodding once and also starts towards the exit, "Fuckin' right."

<FS3> Ruth rolls Persuasion: Good Success.

"No!" Ruth protests, sitting forward with her weight balanced on her palms. Her legs are drawn underneath her in preparation to join them in rising. "I'm going up there, too." Her expression is set in a low-key scowl, even as her hard eyes narrow slightly. "You don't know her. I might not like her…" She jabs at her own chest indicatively before gesturing to the two males, now on her feet. "… But I know her more than you do."

"There's plenty among us that would be there to stop them if they tried taking prisoners. We have a handful of ex-cadets who would shoot that idea out of the sky the moment it poked its ugly head through the door. Figuratively and literally, depending on the person." says Silas as he casts a glance over to Morgan and reaches over and fit his shirt on and grab his hide and knife, standing up as he fumbles over to join Asher and Grey.

"I'm going up there too. Unlike you," he says, the you in particular pointed towards Ruth as well as an index finger, "I at least have an idea on how she fights, and how I might try to kill her if I need to." He slips his knife under his belt, and brings around the hide to wrap around his torso diagonally and tie at the front, before slipping his knife back out. He steps over to take his leave, looking to Grey, "Mind if I borrow one of the swords?" as though it's already been decided he shall be granted access to the above.

Fiona climbs up to the passenger hold, pausing as she gets to the top, and the collection of people gathered. She doesn't bother asking what's going on; it seems obvious there's some debate going on about the prisoners.

"I'll be going to talk to them." Morgan says quietly. Unlike Faolan, he doesn't yell. "And carrying weapons up there is the worst idea possible. She's better than we are and if she wasn't half dead, I bet she could disarm anyone in this camp. All we need now is for them to have weapons."

Grey shrugs far too broadly at Ruth, the next best thing to throwing his arms out to his sides, "What do I care? The more the merrier, right? It's not like having all ninety-three — " he stops, his lips twisting into a sour grimace, "ninety-two of us up there will be awkward or anything. No one'll be up there alone, but there'll damned sure be some times when none of you three are up there." Silas' request for the sword draws him up as he reaches the nearest of the ladders, and he unbuckles the one strapped around his waist, holding the heavy blade out to the other Delinquent unguarded-hilt first. "Take this one while I'm changing my shirt." Rolling his eyes at Morgan, he adds, "Oh screw that. There'll damned well be someone with a weapon up there at all times, keepin' well away from either of them. It ain't like there's just one of the damned Grounders up there. I don't know why you two are so stuck on the girl. She flash you her tits or something?" And then he turns around and there's Fiona. For some reason, he looks a bit abashed at having just been half-yelling about tits.

Fiona simply casts Grey an amused expression, swinging herself onto the level's floor before crossing her arms over her chest. "Let me guess. Everybody wants to talk to them, nobody's willing to back down. I want to talk to them too, but you're right, if everyone tries to go up there at the same time, it's going to be a cluster fuck. And if we're inconsistent with how we talk to them, we won't get anywhere."

A glance is sent sidelong at Silas, and then to Grey. He looks down at his blood spattered shirt and then over at Morgan, "Being unarmed up there is asking to get killed." A beat pause and he eyes Fiona, nodding to her, and then moves around her to the exit. Even he isn't going to go up there in a shirt spattered in the blood of other Grounders.

Fiona's words offers a firm head shaking from Silas, "No, the problem is that those three," being Ruth, Devin, and Morgan respectively picked out from those in the medbay by a finger pointed at each by Silas, "Are probably fucking going to be dancing around fires and worshiping rocks by the end of the day if they're in the same fucking room as them. They're already defending the goddamn savages." And now he's back to calling them names, Silas is the pinnacle of progress clearly. He reaches over, his right hand grasping onto the hilt of the sword, looking over the make with furrowed brows.

"Not like I saw them in the books." he grumbles to himself with a shrug, before he looks to Grey as he replies to Morgan. Save him the trouble. Silas looks back and over towards the three, furrowing his lips and a lopsided sneer on his face. "It's goddamn insulting to be told this near literal shit when I put my life on the line for you guys- and now apparently I'm a fucking asshole for calling them monkeys and neanderthals after they shot our people with arrows and killed two of our folks while kidnapping you- and suddenly they're angels cause they didn't string you up and whip you like you thought? Fuck that and fuck you." says Silas, before storming out of the med-bay and propping up besides the ladder, seemingly waiting for the go ahead to head up.

"I want to make sure they don't get any weapons and that means I'm stuck on her?" Morgan asks disbelievingly. "Do you have a fucking brain to listen to the shit you say? No one wonder you became a cadet." he snorts. "And in case you haven't figured it out, your dick is a lot more interesting than her tits." Silas just gets a cold look but no other response as he turns his attention on Fiona. "You hurt? I've got stones and sticks and plants to treat you with." He's stripped to the waist except for the makeshift bandages on his chest and arm. But he is moderately blood and dirt free.

Devin sighs and shakes his head as he looks to the others. "Fuck you all. I'm not going to be here when you guys end up starting a war and getting us all fucking killed because you want blood." He gathers the few items he had with him and starts towards the exit of the ship, shaking his head. "No wonder you all ended up in the fucking box." He says half to himself before he heads out of the medbay.

Grey may agree with a lot of what Silas says, but when the other teen takes the sword and goes for the ladder, he shakes his head, "Oh no. No, no, no no." Grey's right hand reaches out, trying to grasp the back of Silas' collar, "No Grounder weapons up with the Grounders. Nothing we took off bodies. We want to get information from these people, not piss them the hell off." He nods over to Fiona, "Pretty much. I said I was gonna go up and relieve one of the guards, and everyone decided they wanted to go up right now." Morgan's comment about sexual preference causes him to blink, having apparently gotten rather caught up, "Oh. Right. I knew that." And now his rant has been thrown off-track. Maybe the comment about his dick. "Sorry. Just surprised everyone's all worried about talking to her, not him." And then he shrugs, rubbing the palm of his hand into his temple, "I think everyone should just calm the hell down. Maybe no one should go up there to try to talk to them at all for a little bit." Devin's words and retreat cause him to blink, and he points at himself, looking around the rest of the group like, 'me?'

Asher, carrier of ALL the weapons, also looks to try and stop Silas, "Grey's got a point. They see you got one of their weapons and they'll never talk without torture." And maybe not even then. He eyes Devin for a fleeting moment and smirks, "You were in the box too, dumbass. You think your better than the rest of us?" he seems extra annoyed by that. Elitism amongst criminal. "No one here said they wanted blood. We wanted information. And we aren't interested in becoming best friends with Grounders who killed our people unprovoked. That's it."

When stopped, Silas grunts as he somewhat chokes against his collar- not expecting to be stopped as he looks over his shoulder and then turns and offers the sword. "I /did/ say I was going up there." he reminds him, Furrowing his brow as he eyes Grey in a somewhat confused manner. When Devin claims he wants blood- ignoring the entire tit and dick stuff (cause cooties!), Silas steps back and over towards the med-bay, "I don't want blood," growls Silas, his right index finger pointing at Devins chest from afar with a sneer as he comes close towards the exit and then past him. "I just don't want you putting them on a fucking pedestal when they killed our people. The war started the moment they took you and then we saved you. And you know what? The reason they probably kept you guys are even still alive is because they were probably taking you to be fucking sacrificed. Next time? I say we let them." says Silas. When Grey suggests that no one goes up there, Silas wrinkles his nose. "If no ones up there to talk, there's no point in me going up there then. I'm going to get clay so we can make pots. If I start worshiping the river, someone fucking kill me before I lead them to our camp." grumbles Silas to Grey and Asher as he moves to slip down and head out into the camp unless he's stopped.

"That might be best." And here we have Fiona agreeing with Lucian. Somewhere, dogs are mating with cats. Devin is regarded in bemusement as he departs - she's newly arrived and doesn't question that he isn't including her in his declaration. Fiona does, however, turn to the others. "We didn't go out of our way to take prisoners so that we could entertain ourselves with hurting them so we can feel avenged. We need them to talk. Torture won't get us anywhere." She looks after Silas, brow furrowing, but says nothing to stop him."

Morgan looks over at Devin and takes a step after him but decides to just let him go cool down. He's not in enemy hands tonight that he needs protecting. Instead, he turns to Grey. "She outranks him." he says simply. "That's why." Or so he assumes based on what they saw, including her fancy horse. If everyone else has brown horses, the one on the white riding in front is the leader.

Grey releases Silas as soon as he stops trying to go up the ladder with the Grounder sword, nodding to the other man. This frees up both hands to rub at his temples, "Damn it. I'm going to have to sit at the bottom of this ladder all damned day, aren't I?" No, he's really not going to do that at all. "I'm just saying no one should go up there right now, while everyone's shouting." Or talking angrily, or vehemently. "And no one's telling anyone that torture's a good idea." Asher gets a side-long glance at that, and then he looks to Morgan, "Then he's likely to be easier to get to talk, isn't he? You don't go for the tough ones first. You go for the weak ones first. Now, though, I'm gonna change my shirt," since he's wearing the shirt of the Grounder he killed, just to give his own shirt a break, "and go relieve one of the guards who's been on duty all night. And Silas, you should see if you can get someone else to come along with you, just to make sure."

Fiona walks over to the ladder, moving to park her ass on one of the rungs. Not that she'd be difficult to get around, but it would seem that if Grey wants an opportunity to change his shirt while having the ladder guarded, she's giving him the opportunity.

"Oh for fuck's sake, I didn't say I was going to torture anyone. I said if you go up their with their weapons, they won't talk at all, and then you'd have to torture them." Asher retorts in an exasperated tone. "You don't need to assume that I'd just start torturing the fuckers." There's a good chance he would though. He throws his hands up in the air and moves to the ladder down, shoving his way past people if he needs to. His reputation might be earned, but he's not evil.

Shaking his head, Morgan walks over to one of the bundles of supplies and reaches behind it to get his shirt. But when he shakes it out, he just looks at its blood stained mess and tosses it back. "Oh, fuck me." he mutters.

Silas stops and casts a look over his shoulder as Grey suggests that he goes with someone. He furrows his brows for a moment, and opens his mouth as if he's about to argue- but thinking over recent events he can see the logic in why he'd want to. Silas takes in a deep breath before he lets out a slow sigh, furrowing his brows before he simply steps back. "There's no point then. They may already have people watching to make sure they can ambush groups of two anyways. I'll just tell someone else to do it." says Silas. He turns back and near the med-bay, moving to lean up against some metal wall and stare at the ladder. "I'll just continue tanning the hide." he says, sliding down along the wall until he's sitting, his hands coming around to untie the hide, securing one end under his feet and the other in his lap as he spreads it over his touching knees and gets to work with tanning again, staring at his work with furrowed brows and occasionally looking up to glare at the hatch to the above makeshift holding area.

"They're badly hurt. They won't be up to ambushing anyone for days." Morgan says without any heat. "They're probably sleeping still considering how hurt they are."

"Then there's no point in anyone talking to them right now anyway, right?" notes Fiona easily enough.

Grey shrugs at Silas, "Just a suggestion. I don't think we can go into a goal line defense just yet, but we should definitely be careful." Looking over to Morgan, he adds, "I don't wanna take the chance with any more lives. We've lost enough already before diplomacy gets a chance." Turning back to the ladder, he stops as he spots Fiona there, then nods, gesturing upward, "Miles and Katie are up there." Two 'reliable' people with some weapon skills who stayed back at camp the day before. "I'll be back in a couple minutes." And then he heads back to the other ladder, the one that only goes down, and moves to go down it.

"Aww, Grey." Fiona calls out from her perch as he heads for the ladder, "Here I thought you were going to show me your tits."

Silas looks up from where he sits, glancing to Morgan and Grey as they speak as he offers a slow shrug, "I wouldn't assume that they're just sitting around, though. I mean- we hit them and the horses went riding back. It's safe to assume that they know we got their people now." says Silas with a tilt of his head to the side. "Odds are they'll go heavier on their offensive. So I figure I'll just get someone else to do it, who is less.." begins Silas, looking down and over to his chest just in time to hear the comment concerning Greys tits. He blinks, and looks up towards Fiona, before to Grey, his right brow rising as he lets out a slow and somewhat drawn out, "Slaaashed.".

Grey finally says something Morgan agrees with so he just nods. "Did anyone find any water closer than the river? I need to wash these clothes but don't want to risk getting eaten by a snake." He glances at Silas and adds "It'll be safer not to go far from camp too. I'm sure they know where we are. The knew who we were. They must have seen the ship come down."

Grey pauses at the top of the ladder, one foot on a rung, and he strips off the sleeveless Grounder-shirt, squeezing his arms to his sides, and shakes his torso. There's not much jiggle, but it's quite easy to see that he took very good care of himself during his two years in the SkyBox. "You owe me one now, Princess." Beat pause as his eyes drop from her face, hold a moment, and then rise again, "Or two." And then he slings the shirt over his shoulder, grabs the sides of the ladder, and slides down to the cargo hold.

"Nice." Morgan approves. "But really, flexing would have been more flattering."

And there sits Silas, wide eyes under the most furrowed brows he could possibly muster, knife paused and lips pursed as his eyes travel from Grey, to Fiona, and then over to Morgan as everything goes down. He picks up upon Greys gaze, and follows it for a moment before his brows shoot up and his left hand comes over to cover his face- looking away somewhat as he burns up red. All he wanted to do was tan some hide and this happens. Silas grunts, clearing his throat as his left hand leaves his face to bundle up his hide and take his knife, slipping it under his belt as he heads to the ladder. "I'm… Gonna go tan this outside." he says with pursed lips and burning cheeks, carefully stepping down and moving to take his leave.

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