Day 011: Funeral Detail
Summary: Grey, Wren, Que, and Grimm recover the last bodies from the skirmishes between Coesbur and the Delinquents.
Date: 18 May 2016
Related: Funeral Arrangements
Grey Wren Que Grimm 


The Wilderness
It's woods, people, all over.
11 Days After Landing

Grey wasn't even supposed to be here, if you ask his fellow Delinquents. But he made a promise, and so an hour or so after the arrival of the doctors and their retinue at Coesbur, Grey arrives as well, a pair of long, relatively-straight branches over one shoulder, his makeshift baton slung on his back, and a bundle of parachute-cloth wrapped around the branches. He's pretty sure that he's been spotted well before, so he merely walks across the bridge to the village entrance, nods a greeting to the watchers there, notes, "Ai laik Grey kom Skaikru." His pronunciation isn't great, and he still uses the Ark version of his own name, "Wren kom Trikru is expecting me."

Wren has been waiting for Grey's appearence at the edge of camp. He did say he would return, and for the past day or so, he's checked to make sure the Skaikru has made good on his word. And just like the last, he's here, strolling up to the newly approached teen. "<In Trigedasleng> He may enter." he tells the guard. "Grey of the Sky People." he grunts. "I see you're good at your word. Good to see. Better for the rest of us."

Standing tall and silent, Que has his thick arms crossed over his chest, and his face is impassive and unreadable. He's wearing mostly leather, with a belt from which are hung numerous metal tools—a couple types of hammers, something that looks like a chisel, knives, other oddities. He might not need them for this grisly task, but he rarely goes anywhere without his tools. Strapped to a special made leather case on his back he brings his heavy sledgehammer. Just in case. When the skaiboy appears, his dark eyes look him over slowly, frankly, and with a certain slow intensity.

Standing sentry post about fifty meters from the entrance to the village is Grimm, bow drawn and arrow notched. He isn't actually aiming at Grey, he has plenty of time if he needs to draw and fire. When Wren gives the all clear, Grimm casts a glance in his direction and shrugs, speaking in his deep melodious voice, "<In Trigedasleng> Fine I suppose." He lowers his bow further and starts to walk towards Wren and subsequently Grey.

Grey spreads his burdened arms in a helpless shrug, "I'm a killer," by the wry twist of his lips, it's not a boast, "not a liar." He grounds one end of the long poles, patting them lightly, "Stretcher." Gathering up the front of his dirty, grassy, and bloody shirt, he wipes sweat from his face, then lets the cloth fall again, looking around the group. He's used to being one of the taller people in any group, and he shifts as he realizes that he's distinctly not in this group. And so instead of any further posturing, he nibbles on the thumbnail of his left hand, studying the big men, and then looking past them into the village, "Docs get settled okay? Oh… am I coming in? I thought we were going?"

"We're going." Wren nods to Que, then whistles over his shoulder. Two more men ride up on horses. Roach, the big ol black horse with the old looking saddle stands nearby. "<In Trigedasleng> Coming with, Que?" he asks to the other large man. If he replies or not, he pulls himself up onto Roach's saddle, getting himself situated. "We will take you where we left your people. As…a show of good faith. Then, your turn."

<FS3> Que rolls Riding: Failure.

"<In Trigedasleng> I will come." Que turns, and moves over to get the horse he totally had made ready there, and heaves himself up into the saddle. The horse shies, and there's a soft grounder curse as the big guy tries to get control, but he's proof of something: not all Grounders are actually any good with horses. Clenching his jaw, he briefly looks like he's considering punching the horse, but decides against it and waits for it to settle down. He'll follow along shortly. "Good faith you be having in seeing of yours." he says, over to the skaiboy, even as the horse shifts left and tries to shake him off. "<In Trigedasleng> You will be still, … horse whose name I did not ask about!"

<FS3> Grimm rolls Riding: Good Success.

When Wren calls over the other riders, Grimm moves forward, nodding to the younger of the two and taking the reins of the horse from him, "<In Trigedasleng> I'll ride with them. Stay and continue to work on your bow skills." The youth seems annoyed by this, but doesn't argue. Grimm hoists himself into the saddle moments after he's taken control of the horse and trots forward towards Wren, "<In Trigedasleng> Do we need any other supplies? Or are we ready to go?" His gaze falls on Grey, but thus far he hasn't spoken any English and doesn't now either.

Grey looks warily up at the horses, muttering, "Aw hell…" He nods to Wren, "Alrighty then." He licks his lips, swallowing sharply, but evidently doing his best not to show his… discomfort of the horses in front of the Grounders. Que's tortured syntax causes him to frown, trying to follow it, and he nods, "Thanks." And then he looks around, "I… uh, nope that one's not for me," he nods to the spirited horse Que's mounted on, and then smirks up at the mounted men, "Or am I walkin' while you all ride?"

"<In Trigedasleng> No Grimm. We will carry our dead back on the backs of our horses. We we hold pyres in their honor this evening. Where…" Wren's jaw tightens visibly. "<In Trigedasleng> Where we will say goodbye." It's not secret that Wren's little sister died in the attack and that is obviously a reason he's here. "A horse can be lent to you for this journey, Grey. However, should you rather walk…" he shrugs. "The choice is up to you."

For the moment, Que lapses into silence. Then again, it doesn't really take him very much to go silent. He'll hold onto the horse with a narrowed eyes and otherwise follows Wren's lead. At least, this was his plan until he suddenly says, "Walking be slow making of way to places." He hesitates, seeming almost surprised he bothered speaking up this thought.

Lent? Gah. Grimm glares at Grey a moment and looks over his shoulder to the kid who brought out his own horse, "<In Trigedasleng> Get us another horse." And then he looks to Wren, "<In Trigedasleng> He needs to keep up." he says flatly and then his gaze falls on Grey, "You ride." he says. This does't appear to be a question.

Grey sighs as if the kind offer from Wren was an onerous one, then hefts up the branches and their parachute wrapping up toward Grimm, "Great." By his tone, it sounds anything but great. "Then you get to carry these. I have enough problems not falling off the things without carrying that too." Que and Grimm get an additional, "I'm Grey, by the way." And then he pauses, goes back, and revises the statement to, "Ai laik Greh," he almost manages the Grounder pronunciation, but the effort screws him up for the, "come Skaikru." And by then his brain has had time to process Que's words, and he nods, "Yeah. Slow to walk compared to ridin'. But it doesn't hurt like a bitch." Thoughtful pause, "Unless you walk way too damned far."

"Your ass will get used to it. I'm told some even begin to enjoy such things. Afaye has been used to it for ages." he remarks idly, but there's definitely humor in his tone, then looking back to the other two. "<In Trigedasleng> I didn't say that. And I'll deny every inch if you say otherwise." Apparently, everyone in the village is free game for his commentary. Maybe except Oxfor. But he'll wait for Grey to get on the horse that's afforded to him, looking over at Que, who's only just barely managing. "<In Trigedasleng> When was the last time you rode?"

"Ai laik Que kom Trikru." Que's voice is quite soft, especially considering how big a guy he is, "/kom/ Skaikru, skaiboy. Kom. You are not to be coming from place of sky, though you be that also perhaps, you are kom — from — the sky clan. Understand, yes? From people not from place." Of course, that assumes he got the right definition of come, which he didn't exactly, so he's perhaps not entirely helpful in teaching Trigedasleng. Still, he reaches out a hand, "Be handing what need I carry here, Greh kom Skaikru." He'll use his legs to hold onto the damn horse if need be, even if said horse is annoyed with him. He grunts in response to Wren, "<In Trigedasleng> When last we sent trade goods to TonDC. This horse simply does not like me. It is a personal grudge it holds against me for an imagined slight." That said, Que's known not one of the more skilled riders among the Trikru. He's fairly indifferent about horses.

Grimm moves his horse over next to Que's and eyes the stretcher and parachute cloth and such. He looks to Que, "<In Trigedasleng> Give me what you can't carry and I will take the rest." He pats the side of the horses neck and runs a hand over its mane, "<In Trigedasleng> This horse likes me just fine and will take the extra load…" He offers a quick grin to Que.

<FS3> Grey rolls Riding: Failure.
<FS3> Grey rolls Riding: Good Success.

<FS3> Wren rolls Riding: Good Success.

Grey watches the exchange between the Grounders, nodding a greeting to Que and then Grimm. Que's language lesson meets with a brow furrowed in thought, even as the Skyboy murmurs under his breath, "kom. kom. kom." It takes several repetitions to get close. "And it may be fine for some folks, but I don't feel the need to get my ass used to a poundin', Wren." The poles are shifted over to hand up to Que or Grimm or whomever wants them, and when the horse is brought out… the same two-faced, three-eyed mutant he rode down to the Delinquent Camp, Grey eyes it warily, "Right. That one. Greeeeat." It went fine last time, what could go wrong this time? Grabbing hold of the saddle, he tries to haul himself up, getting partway there… and then unable to get his foot in the stirrup. He hangs there for a moment, and then the horse starts to shy sideways at his flailing, and he drops to the ground again. Holding up one hand in a 'don't lecture me yet' gesture, accompanied by a scowl at the horse, Grey starts with his foot the second time, and manages to swarm up awkwardly into the saddle. "Right. Greh come…" he looks over to Que, "…to sit on horse."

"Come now, Grey of the Sky People. Mount that horse like you would a woman." Wren barks a rumbly laugh. "Not so different when I first learned to ride. At least you don't fear it. Horses sense fear, you should know. They devour it." A looks to the side at Que and Grimm. "<In Trigedasleng> That long ago? No wonder. You'll get the hang of it again. What's the saying? Getting back on the horse? Something like that." Grimm gets at nod. "<In Trigedasleng> Roach here is so fat and lazy I don't think anything really bothers him. Besides fences. He can't navigate fences to save his life."

Que takes a pole, and then lets Grimm take the rest of the stuff, since he's clearly a much better rider. He does turn a rueful grin towards Grimm, "<In Trigedasleng> You have bribed it, haven't you. Extra apples, I expect." He then looks over at Grey, and manages a sympathetic expression and a nod, but for the moment he has words only for his clan, "<In Trigedasleng> I will make a point to get an extra apple next time I need to ride."

A wink is offered to Que, "<In Trigedasleng> Something along those lines, Que. I promised it two on our return." He grins at the other Trikru and then he looks to Grey, canting his head to the right side as he considers him, "<In Trigedasleng> At least he didn't fall off." A beat pause, "<In Trigedasleng> It would have been funnier if he did though." Grimm settles the various goods he's taken onto the horse, mostly in front of him on the saddle.

<FS3> Grey rolls Resolve: Good Success.

Grey snorts at Wren, "That ain't how I mount a woman." Thankfully, his dark skin helps hide the momentary flush that follows. "Fear? No, the only thing about this thing…" he gives the reins a little twitch, but generally just lets his horse follow after those of the others, "…that I fear is the aches that follow." He rides stiffly and uncomfortably along the forest trail and as the trail peters out and they go into the forest itself. The small group eventually comes out to a clearing with two rotting, crow-pecked corpses hanging from trees in the midst of it. All around are pit-traps, two of which have panthers impaled on the spikes at the bottom. Grey had been preparing himself for this moment, and although his face goes gray at the sight, and his lips tighten in anger, he does not embarrass himself. Except in half-tumbling out of the saddle on his dismount. At least he stays on his feet.

There's no more jokes when they arrive where the hunters of the village had arranged the bodies of the two teens for panther bait. Wren slides off Roach, producing the large axe that had been set against his back. "<In Trigedasleng> Make sure some hunters take the kills back." he notes absently about the dead panthers. Meat is meat. However for the two humans, there's a look at Grey for a moment. No, he doesn't say anything. Taking a grip on the rope that holds one of them up, he cuts it below his hand, lowering the body onto the ground. "Your people fought well. Died well. There is little one can ask for."

As they ride, Que keeps his silence, and once they reach their destination, he looks on with a stern expression that reveals little of what he may be feeling. He does nod slightly when Wren speaks, "Dying as one lived and living as one dies, this thing is what should hoped for be." he intones, all serious like. Whatever the hell that means.

When they arrive, Grimm slides off his horse and leaves the horse as he moves to investigate the scene some. He has his bow in one hand, but no arrow is notched against the string. He eyes the panthers and then looks to Wren, then to the hanging corpses, brow raised at them. He watches Grey's reaction with a frown and he nods to him, speaking in English this time, "He is right. You cannot ask for more of them." He pulls out one of his knives, "Do you want help cutting?" he makes a gesture with the knife and points at the ropes holding them.

<FS3> Grey rolls Resolve: Success.

Grey eyes Wren skeptically, but he doesn't contradict the long-haired Wren and Grimm. He does, however, note to Que, "Not a single Arker…" he pauses, then grudgingly goes with, "Skaikru, who dies down here is gonna die like they lived." He shakes his head at Grimm's offer, drawing the makeshift blade from the back of his belt and stepping carefully around the pit-traps to approach the tree alongside Wren, "I got it. I should do this. You two wanna set up the stretcher, I don't want my people to see what happened to them." He gets up next to the bodies, gagging into the inside angle of his elbow and swallowing hard to keep from throwing up. He manages to cut the ropes, then staggers down alongside the fallen bodies, tucking his blade away again and gagging some more.

Wren nods, given Grey the rope. "I understand." he offers. "Had we known you respected your dead as we, perhaps…" he shrugs it off, not finishing the thought. Letting Grey do what he needs, he will assemble the litter for the bodies to be carried in. "<In Trigedasleng> I almost feel sorry for him." he notes to the other two. "<In Trigedasleng> Though now we know what not to do with their dead. I wonder…" Kneeling down, the parachute is set together into a form he figures would work best to be pulled by a horse. "<In Trigedasleng> Of all the Sky People I've met so far, he seems to be at least somewhat honorable. Some of the others…they talk far too much."

Que shrugs slightly, "The living in the sky is past, life you have now is living new life. The land be hard, even those whose having purpose is not of warriors, such as the craft masters as I, they be fighting the land to survive, in the way of their own. They fought the land a time short perhaps, but they did honor in surviving that time as strangers they be to the land." Whew, all those words. He stays upon his horse for the moment, and then with a grunt, slides off the horse, narrows his eyes accusingly at said horse, and takes the pole he had over to help set up the stretchers. A nod over to Wren, thoughtful, "<In Trigedasleng> I do not know what talking and honor have to do with each-other, unless you are talking lies."

Grimm offers a nod to Grey, his gaze still settled on the man. There's a measure of respect shown there. Perhaps that wouldn't have been there if he'd taken Grimm up on his offer for help. "Good." he states quietly. "Yes, we will set up the stretcher." He turns and looks to Wren and Que who are already working on the stretcher. "<In Trigedasleng> Honorable? Yes. I still don't trust them." He moves over to help them with the stretcher.

Grey gets his face out of the crook of his elbow long enough to nod to Wren, "Yeah. I get it." He coughs, chokes, and works to bundle first one body and then the other into the parachute material, "I still woulda done what I did after the Rescue. Sorry." Trying to follow Que's words actually offers a relief from having to pay attention to what he's doing with two people he knew… or at least knew of. He has to stop a couple more times to lean away from the corpses and gag, but manages not to vomit. It's the smell, and the consistency of their long-dead flesh. But eventually, he's got them in, and he starts to drag the disgustingly-full bag-ish back toward the stretchers. It's a slow movement, and he struggles with it a moment, then sighs, looking up and admitting, "I could use a hand."

"<In Trigedasleng> If Oxfor is willing to give them a chance to prove themselves, as am I. We did not trust the other tribes so easily when the coalition was decided, was it?" Wren shrugs at the other two. "<In Trigedasleng> At the very least, they are not the Azdega." Which causes him to spit at the ground. "Nothing to be sorry about. You acted to protect your people. We did the same. I find nothing to be sorry over. Warriors do what they must to protect their people. Adversaries can be respected. We are not sorry for what we did, neither should you. But, that is in the past now." A sidelong glance to the other. "<In Trigedasleng> He understands better than others."

<FS3> Que rolls Resolve: Good Success.

"The past it may be in. The steheda am I given to understand has agreed to summit, that says peace may be made between the clans of ours — may, I say, not will." Que's voice raises enough to be heard as they work, but its still not very loud. He maintains his stern, resolute expression throughout the grossness of the bodies. Maybe he's used to seeing the gross. Or maybe he's just stubborn. He moves forward, and lends his strength to Grey's dragging. "Wren speaks with rightness. To a place you could permitted not to be you went, and what was done was of need. Responded as demands of your people place on you. Blood must have blood."

<FS3> Grimm rolls Resolve: Success.

Grimm glances up at Wren while he helps put things together, "<In Trigedasleng> Oxfor will do what is best. I will do what he requires, as I am now. That doesn't mean I have to trust them." And then Grey needs help and Grimm nods to him. He gets up to move over there, but Que beats him to it. So instead he stays near the litter to help guide the body in. The smell hits him hard, but he avoids puking, though he does grimace at the smell, "That is unpleasant." That is an understatement.

Grey watches Wren warily as the man speaks in the other language and then spits, gathering his feet under him. But then the English words cause him to let out a little breath, and he nods. Que, however, adds that tension back on, "Yeah. Hopefully." He nods to Que and Grimm as they approach to help. With all three of them hauling the bodies, they can get them onto the stretcher, "I'll leave these a ways outside the camp, haul them in myself tonight. Bury them. Good will gesture made. Now for my side." And then he's eying the horse sidelong again, "And another ride."

"<In Trigedasleng> Trust is earned. He didn't have to show us where our dead lay. And both of you know why I'm here." Wren counters. Since Grimm and Que are handling the whole matter with the litters, he hangs back, watching, not getting in the way. "<In Trigedasleng> I am willing to give them a chance. But only a chance. Should Oxfor decide differently, I know where I stand. But…they have started to heal our people. So at the very least…I don't know. Respect where respect is due." No, there's not a personal conflict there at all with him. But the axeman was always a bit more moderate than others. Then again, he's always first in line for a good battle too, so who knows how he feels. Once this is all said and done, he returns to his horse. "Is there anything we should know before we arrive?" he asks Grey. "You took their weapons and I will assume their armor as well." he remarks, though from the way he says it, he's probably done the same in the past. His axe probably wasn't his originally.

<FS3> Que rolls Riding: Good Success.
<FS3> Grimm rolls Riding: Good Success.
<FS3> Wren rolls Riding: Success.

This time, Que manages to get on the horse with a minimum of fuss. Apparently the horse has forgotten its supposed to be mad at him. "<In Trigedasleng> If the steheda decrees peace,…" Then he pauses, and continues, "If peace steheda declares, to their village I will go, and seek the lores of building the children of the sky city know. Perhaps teaching them my lores of car-pen-tree and metal working will be a thing I do, if worthy I find one to teach. Time will decree the stahada's choice." That said, pulling on the reins, he gets his nameless horse trotting when they're ready to move.

"<In Trigedasleng> I respect this one. He has earned it so far. I respect their doctors as well. I do not trust them yet." Grimm states with a shrug and then he looks to Grey, apparently also interested int he same information Wren is. He pulls himself up onto his horse after attaching one of the litters to the back of it. "I would imagine…if peace is decreed, there is much we can learn from each other." They might have new songs he could learn. Grimm would actually appreciate that.

<FS3> Grey rolls Riding: Good Success.

"We stripped them." Grey's voice is tense, but he doesn't shy away from the question. "All the way. We needed the clothes too." Remounting is… surprisingly easier, certainly easier than thinking about knowing the people they stripped and looted. He nods to Que and Grimm, "There's a lot we can teach each other. Especially once the rest of the Arkers come down."

The group rides south toward the Delinquent camp, dropping off the bodies, and then curves back up, to the site of the Delinquent ambush. Stopping in place, he points in seven directions, one after another, "We carried them that way, that way," and so on, "I don't know which ones you've found already."

Wren nods. "Any smart adversary would do so." he states, but his voice is terse. Understanding it and liking it in this situation are two uniquely different things. "You don't leave behind something you could use off the dead. They no longer have a use for it." But he's quiet for most of the travelling, getting off his horse only when Grey stops. Roach again is dismounted and he moves forward, keeping his eyes searching. Then he finds them.

At first it's hard to tell his reaction, but hidden away, laid out are the bodies of the Grounders that were killed. And Wren in all of his surliness finds the one that he hoped he didn't. The stripped body of Lark lays on the ground, staring lifelessly at him. The big man finds his knees giving out, falling onto them next to him. "Lark…" he reaches forward, moving the hair out of her face. The man doesn't care if there is anyone else there with him. He breaks down, sobbing. "I wasn't…fast enough. Wasn't…strong enough." his broken sputters of grief-stricken voice says. But he can't bring himself to move, only able to stare hopelessly at her body.

This is news, to him at least. Que's eyes turn sharply to Grey, "How many are the skaikru? You are not all that are to come?" he asks, voice serious, even as he rides more confidently then he did before. He does slowly lower himself off of the horse, give the horse a rough sort of pat on the neck, and moves to follow Wren's lead. He has no commentary on the state of the bodies and their looting, accepting it as mere fact. Once they find Lark's body, he moves forward and stands near by, silent, offering comfort of presence, if that is comforting at all, but not trying to speak.

"We would have done the same…" Grimm offers as he gets his mount moving at a slow pace. "If you had anything worth taking…" A quick grin is offered, to emphasize this was just a joke. He doesn't really speak for the rest of the ride though, instead humming quietly to himself, some melodic tune that wouldn't be familiar to the Arkers, but that his fellow Grounders would recognize as a chant sung for the dead. It's not generally sung these days, but Grimm likes to sing, or to hum.

Que's question draws Grimm's attention, but he doesn't actually speak up, just curious for the answer as well.

Grey leads the way into the woods upon the prompting of the Grounders, until he stands back from the body of a young woman curled up in the fetal position under a bunch of ferns. He takes another step back as Wren collapses, pain and regret sharp on Grey's face. Looking aside at Que's question, he shakes his head, "After the summit. I'll tell you. Until then, I'll just say 'thousands.'" It isn't a lie, but only barely, and Grey looks distinctly uncomfortable. The start of Grimm's chant causes him to start a little, but then he nods, letting out his breath and lowering his head in reverence. He may not know the words or the meaning, but he can recognize a dirge.

"You were the light of our family, Little Bird." Wren wipes at his dirty face. "The world is darker without you." The rest of the world could fall away and he would not notice it. Everything that matters to him lies dead at his feet. "Your fight is over, Little Bird. And one day, I'll join you. Wait for me…wait for me til then. I am…so proud of you. Mother and father are so proud of you. But…I will always miss you." Shuddering breathes, trying to find the man's center, if there's even one left to grab onto. His face snaps on a swivel, looking at the three of them. "No more…" he says. "Not one more. Stupid. Stupid. I won't see another son or daughter lost to a war without meaning…" Tears fall on his sister's body. The war with the Ice People? Had meaning. Other wars? Had meaning. This? There is no meaning here. Only needless death. A death with no point is a good death wasted. With shaky legs, he gets up to his feet, even reaching out to Que to try and pull himself up. "Get…the death shrouds. Wrap them, take them back to the village." A look is thrown at Grey, his face tear stained. "You honored your part, Grey of the Sky People. I will not forget that."

Que watches Wren for a time, and does not intrude upon his grief. He does nod slightly, at the end, "It is true, Azgeda they are not." He turns, and moves back towards the horse, though as he goes he gives Grey a sort of look that implies more we will speak of quite plainly. But, to fetch the shrouds he goes.

Grimm doesn't interrupt the moment, he just hums his song quietly and keeps to the background. His voice is deep and calming. even in humming form. He doesn't speak on the current situation or what Wren has to say. He will help to wrap the bodies and get them onto the litters for the journey back to the village.

Grey does his best not to intrude upon Wren's grief either, not to listen in to what the man says, but when the attention comes back to him and the other two Grounders, the Skaikru teen starts a little, drawing in a breath. He murmurs to himself, "Azgeda, Mountain Men… so much we need to damned well learn." Raising his voice back up to normal speaking levels, he adds, "Almost, Wren. One more, I think, that you said you hadn't found yet. Then we can bring them back to Coesbur, and I'll go back to bury my people." There's a long moment, and then he offers out his right hand to Wren, despite having been rebuffed the last time they spoke, "I'm a man of my word," or a 'boy' of it, depending on who you ask, "So are most of my people."

A look is given while the others tend to the dead, a sort of obvious suggestion given to the point that Wren will wrap his sister's body. "You brought me to my sister. You kept your word to me. It may not go far with others, but it will to /me/." There's still a shaky voice, and he still has to wipe at his eyes. "Your people have much to learn, that's true. But, children eventually become men and woman. You still need a leader, and many other things but…" A look at the hand, and then he grips his arm, grabbing at the forearm. "When we take our dead home, I will return with you, help bury your dead. In payment for helping me here. But I urge you, for the sake of your people. You /must/ unite. I have no desire to war with you, but I will if Oxfor tells me such must be done. And it would be a battle I would take no joy in." Beat. "Should the worse come to pass, I will not look for you."

This is a moment between Grey and Wren, and Que works on shrouding the bodies and dragging them carefully back. He's one man who has absolutely no need to but in when being silent will be better.

Grey bows his head at Wren's words, "We have a leader, Wren." The forearm clasp is a little awkward for Grey at first, but he manages well enough, "But he is up there," His free hand gestures up to the sky, "And some of our people hate his ass. But you're right, we gotta have a leader, or a couple of leaders, on the ground. We were united, because of you all. And then that shattered." He grimaces sharply, "I'm gonna do everything I can to unite us again. If they'll listen." A weary resolve filters into his voice, "But if the worst comes to pass, I'll be easy to spot. I'll be the one standin' between my people and the threat." And then he nods his head and moves to help Que and Grimm with the bodies. At least with their sad burdens, there's no need for him to ride the damned mutant horse anymore.

"I don't want to kill you, Grey. But I will if Oxfor orders me too. So you must be that voice of reason. Non-hostility is better than no peace at all, but this must end." Wren says. "You must take all the voices and make them into one. The summit is your only hope not. Your healers have done well. You have done well. You are showing your potential. But there is discord, a great deal of it. We cannot speak with your leader in the Sky, so we look to you. We wait. I don't know how long we will." Finally, there's a small grin. "So, we harden you through conflict. Good, you're learning after all of our ways. At least some." Then it fades. "I must prepare my sister for the fire. Be ready to leave." Breaking away, he takes one of the shrouds, beginning to wrap his sister, gently, as if she may wake at any moment. "<In Trigedasleng> Maybe there is hope." he notes over to Que, softly. "<In Trigedasleng> We will see."

"The steheda binds the village Coesbur. By his word, the village, one. The skaikru has good will shown, with this act, with act of healing, but skaikru must make steheda believe you can be at peace. You can be… trusted. I am not steheda, but it is not known to me how it can be a kru trusted to bound be by treaty if it is unbound by a heda. Convince him." This is Que's advice, and its said as soft as he says everything, "In act more then word." He shakes his head then, "But chance is all possible that I lack the wisdom of steheda and he will see what I do not. I am craft master only." He turns a thoughtful glance to Wren, "<In Trigedasleng> I did not think it is possible, but now perhaps you are right. He honors his dead and he honored ours. Perhaps, blood has had blood, and it can be finished. If steheda wills it."

Grey shrugs at Wren's warning, "You'll try if Oxfor orders you to." There's a bit of the cocky ex-Cadet, especially in his crooked grin. But then talk is getting serious again, and he nods, "If it were up to me, I'd just take you to talk straight to the Chancellor. But most of the folks we voted as Emissaries would shit a brick. And I'll take the compliment, but before I was arrested," Yeah, has anyone dropped that bomb yet, the fact that they're all criminals, "I was training to be a Guard. To protect people and defend the government. That's pre-Earth." Que's words once more require some translation in his head, "I'm doin' what I can. So are a few others. But there's some angry damned kids down here." He shakes his head, "Basically just angry at the whole world and everyone over it." And then he's stepping away to gather up the reins of the horses so that the Grounders themselves can prepare the bodies.

"I like your spirit." Wren grins. Maybe he likes someone who can back up their talk with their walk. "We will have to spar sometime. I look forward to that." Wrapping Lark, he cradles her in his arms, carrying her back to Roach, placing her behind his saddle. "Guard. Warrior. The name means the same thing to us. And make no mistake, there are plenty of our people who are equally angry. But they will not go against Oxfor, their death would be certain. None acts against the straheda's orders. This is why you need a leader. Or leaders. But I have given you my advice on what you must do. The rest, Grey of the Sky People is up to you. As for hate, it can blind. Make you deaf. Turn you into…something else." A sigh then. "We ride for the village. I will return with you, to bury your dead after." Then he mounts Roach, taking care not to jostle Lark. "And then…we will say goodbye to our own."

"Such a thing is called childhood, is not? Anger of all." Que wonders aloud, shaking his head, "Understanding the skaiheda is a thing I am uncertain to be possible. To away send children to survive, perhaps I see as challenge? Proof worthy? Our warriors proof themselves with the first of the killed. Is similar thing? Yet, to make situation where lack of command? Understand not. Command requires experience, no steheda I think — though no steheda am I — would see to Warrior Seconds be sent without command. Wren? Is my craft master understanding be flawed?" He shakes his head slightly, mounting his horse with care and rolling his shoulders.

<FS3> Grey rolls Riding: Failure.
<FS3> Grey rolls Riding: Good Success.

Grey chuckles faintly at Wren, "After the summit. And then maybe I'll teach you how to play football. It's the game of kings." At least as far as he's concerned. Still, he nods at the advice, "I agree with you on the leaders. And hate." Que's questions draw a broad shrug, "Hell if I know. They sent us down here 'cause they didn't have enough supplies up there, only hope." He lifts up his left arm, showing the tight-fitting metal bracelet there, "They're monitorin' my vital signs from space. They can tell if I get hurt, cold, sick, whatever. They were checkin' to see if people could live down here again. We're the vanguard." That's one way to look at it. The best way, and Grey's not very good at lying. Pretty shitty at it, really, so it's probably quite clear that there's more to the situation than that, a great deal more. He tries to pull the same trick he did before, mounting the horse one foot first, just like you're supposed to, except the horse steps forward and he stumbles back, barely catching his balance to keep himself from falling. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he crawls more carefully up into the saddle, grimacing as he does, "I hate these things."

Que stares at the bracelet a moment, frowning, and glances off straight at the direction of the Mountain. When his eyes look back, they can't help but have the shadow of suspicion on them, but he says nothing. Thoughtful, his dark eyes on the skaiboy, the craftsman watches, and considers, and rides. Whatever is going on inside his head he has no inclination to share.

"Fhoot…brawl…?" Wren blinks at Grey quizzically, looking at Que about the word. "A game? Games I know. Tests of strength. Tests of agility. I regularly to see how much farther I can throw a log than Que." Then grunt. "He usually wins. But not by much." The talking is taking his mind off of his sister. Anything would. He will mourn when he gets home. "Vanguard. That is a word I knew very well. Then, it will up to you young skaikru to lead the way for the rest of your people. I will hope, they will listen to you. But, the dam has not broken yet. You still have time. However…tell me of this game. How it is played. I am curious." Reigning the lazy Roach in is easy and back to the camp he goes.

Que grins briefly at Wren's mention of throwing contests, and though he still watches Grey, he seems curious by Wren's questions. He doesn't say anything, doesn't nod, but he's interested in the answers as well.

Grey considers Wren's version of the name football, then nods to himself, "Yeah, pretty much." He's missed Que's suspicious look, because Wren has started talking about the only thing Grey likes talking about more than himself or breasts. "It's all of those, plus smarts and speed. Okay. So you've got two teams. They each have eleven players on the field at a time." He's got to start small, build up to it, "Each of those players has a specific job, and specific rules about what they can do, but each team works together to get a ball to one end of the field without the other team stopping them." Aaaand that's how it goes all the way back to Coesbur. Sorry Que, you now know about football even if you had zero interest at all. He's not worrying about such niceties as offensive motion, the backward pass, or encroachment though, just the basics of how the offense and defense interact. For now.

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