Day 011: Guestright
Summary: Curious Delinquents accompanying the medtech delegation go exploring to the village centre at Coesbur, and are met by wary Grounders.
Date: 18 May 2016
Related: Follows Doctor Knows Best
Cassandra Devin Gideon Ginia Martin Que Wren 

Village Center — Coesbur, Trikru
The village of Coesbur is a middling-sized settlement of the Trikru clan. It has two major entry points, both of which funnel into the village center. The first entry point is from the west, and is across the Cioesbur Bridge which stretches over one of the branches of the divided Potomac. The other entry point is from the east, and provides a direct route to the road to Polis. The village center is really nothing more than a large dirt courtyard surrounded by a variety of structures. While most of these are Grounder-built, there is one that survived the apocalypse. It is a tall, octagon-shaped stone building made of brown and red brick. It's roof is domed, and made of tarnished, greened copper with inlays of colored glass. Broad, white steps lead up to the two-door-wide entrance to the building.
11 Days After LAnding

There are more things that need to be done other than watching a bunch of kids, playing guard and needless talker. Enough question for one night, Wren has sought a more open area, get out and think. Much to ponder, to consider. A good way to do this is sit and sharpen his axe. Not in any kind of menacing, threatening way, rather the motion of it looks more absent-minded than anything else. The whetstone gripped in one hand, slide across the edge of the axe blade at a certain angle, rinse and repeat. Oddly soothing if you do it long enough. And if you're going to be good at something, might as well have plenty of practice. Though there's a good chance he's not doing it just to do it. Sitting on a stump next to a large pile of logs, his weapon is likely going to be used as a tool today, chopping wood down into more manageable pieces for whatever fires are burning. Not like he just sits around, waiting for something or someone to kill. Obviously he has to have job when he's /not/ doing that.

Between verdant trees and wild underbrush lies a village called Coesbur, and in this village, life is harsh and brutal. Such is the way of Earth, but since the rise of Lexa kom Trikru, relative peace has found the twelve nations in the form of the Kongeda also known as the Coalition. Certainly there are mountain men, threats of wildlife, and the Ice Nation are ever difficult, but things happen a certain set way — which is why the arrival of the Skaikru is causing such disturbance.

Here comes one of these creatures, a young woman, by the looks of it, but not a warrior. Cassandra Bonheur to her people is a plant specialist of some kind, and she has been assisting the delegation of alien healers, also known in their language as 'medtechs'. Down from the Seat after having scrubbed the dirt from her skin and enjoyed some rest, she wanders to the Village Centre once their babysitters have deigned to leave them unsupervised, letting her eyes roam about as she takes in the sights. She is unaccompanied, even by her own, and of course unarmed, though unlike many, she came here that way. Her demeanour is curious and friendly, as she seeks to socialise with the wary locals.

Among the inhabitants of the Grounder village, Ginia is just another face in the crowd. About the only thing that sets her apart from the others is the tattoos on her face are thin delicate designs as opposed to the thick, tribal designs of the warriors and others. She moves through the village, heading to the Hall where the sick are kept including her brother (in-law) Tuan, clearly intent on checking to see how the young man is doing now that the Skaikru healers are here. Wary is a good adjective to use for Ginia when she sees the Skaikru girl wandering on her own through the village, her eyes wandering to see if maybe there is a misplaced escort somewhere behind her.

Alone wouldn't be the best word. There's an entire village that's watching not only Cassandra, but ever other teen that came with her. Eyes are on her, watching her every single move. Wren said as much, and it'll be up to them as to how the village will react with their presence, good or ill. But he's done his babysitting for one day and night, someone else can do it until it's his turn. And it's not like he's still not watching regardless, even as he stands up and tossing his longcoat aside, he still has an eye on Cass. The first log is set on a nearby stump, axe is raised and brought down, cleaving it half. Then another. And another. "<In Trigedasleng> Wouldn't get too close, Ginia." he remarks over at the artist. "<In Trigedasleng> Don't want you to get sick like your brother."

The Skaigril wears a serene smile on her face when she rounds towards Wren and Ginia. Though there are a lot of eyes on her, she doesn't seem to register the threat, perhaps because she knows that if there was one, she'd be dead on her feet anyway. "Your village is very beautiful," she says to the duo, stopping a short distance and out of range of the woodcutter's axe. "Silver and Morgan are making good headway with the sick. Now mostly all your people need is rest, like mine. I wanted to take the chance to get to know some of you."

As she is addressed by Wren she stops, taking in his words with a nod of her head before looking worriedly toward the building. Ginia has no worries approaching the ax weilding Wren, though she still stays at a safe conversational distance. Logs can go airborn at a moments notice. "<In Trigedasleng> Of course Wren." she capitulates to the warrior easily. "<In Trigedasleng> Has there been news?" if she is being stopped from going in the least he can do is give her information. Though it seems Wren did not bother since the Skaigirl is giving her the information she seeks. Relief washes over her at the news, the first indication that she can understand Cassandra what is being said. Though the compliment of their village only gets a nod of thanks.

"<In Trigedasleng> They like to talk. A lot. As for news, what she said. Other than that, Oxfor has given them guestright." Wren grunts at Ginia, splitting another pair of logs, tossing them in the 'done' pile, a large calloused hand picking up the next to be cut. "<In Trigedasleng> I was meaning to talk with you. I would like a new tattoo. For Lark. To remember her." While he might be talking in his own language, the name 'Lark' rings true in either of them. So at least her name was mentioned. Another log chopped, and Cassandra is only then regarded. "Your friend talks a lot. Is he always so self-righteous?"

The nod she receives from Ginia is all the Skaigirl needs to indicate that this tattooed woman understands her. Cassie watches her curiously, trying to keep track of the cadence of their speech, to make some sense of it. "Cameron is not my friend," she admits to Wren, this being one of the truest statements she's made so far. "We came down from the sky together. We all want to survive. But we believe different things." She takes a seat on a nearby log from the pile, one far enough back that she expects it will take some time for him to claim, and addresses the olive-skinned woman with a look in the eye. "Ai laik Cassandra." At least this is one phrase she has a solid grasp of.

"<In Trigedasleng> Don't most children?" Ginia says of the talking alot. "<In Trigedasleng> Come by this evening when you are finished guarding Skaikru." yes she is saying something about them "<In Trigedasleng> We can discuss designs." she is a bit taken aback at the news of the guestright and that has her peering at Cassandra like one would a bug under a microscope. She doesn't know the people Cass speaks off, but she understands, there are people in the village she doens't care for either. "Ai laik Ginia." she replies, to the introduction, and putting a hand to her chest.

"You seemed very chummy last night." Wren brings the axe down again. "Why the change of heart so suddenly." One of the chipped pieces is kicked aside with the toe of his boot. "Yes, put ten skaikru in a room and you'll receive twenty different opinions. Too many voices unable to decide on hardly anything. Then what do you believe?" he asks simply. "If there is something I have learned, is that you seem to enjoy fighting each other." A nod goes to Ginia, agreeing to whatever it is that she said. "So. What is your goal, then? Beyond survival?" the second is leveled at Cassandra.

This question stumps Cassandra. A goal beyond survival? "Just survival," she insists to Wren, though even after she says it, the wheels are visibly turning in her mind as she tries to come up with a better answer. "We are chummy because we need to live together. Cameron is not my friend, but he is my partner here. I am sure you do not get along well with everyone in your village." She smiles at this, showing she means no harm, and adds, "I believe that learning your ways would be our best hope for survival. Cameron is set in his own."

The so-called archer steps into the village center from the bridge, carrying with her just her bow and a quiver of green-fletched arrows. She is accompanied by the boy Devin, but sends him off immediately to get washed up as the kid has been living in the wilds for two days and smells worse than most of the other delinquents. The Grounder herself looks as if she had been out on a scouting mission, her skin ashed and hair oiled dark. Her heavily-mantled duster has been removed and rolled up at her hip so it no longer serves as a barrier between her and the late spring sun. She casts a dubious glance after where she has sent Devin and then begins her path toward Wren and the others.

<FS3> Cassandra rolls Alertness: Good Success.

"That's it? 'Just' survival?" Wren blinks at her. "Not much of a life. You're to tell me that you no goals for yourself? Nothing to aspire to beyond the simple 'do not die' one?" The Big Guy is chopping up firewood with his axe, which is usually reserved for hurting things. Right now, he's hurting pieces of dead tree. "I get along with most, not enough to get in the way of the good of the village. Unity is strength. Isolation is weakness. And no man or woman is a solitary rock. The wind will eventually wear it to rubble." Another piece of wood chopped. The movement of Gideon returning receives an amused look from the bigger warrior. "<In Trigedasleng> Out rolling around in shit again? Don't think you're going to find any interesting in it."

Ginia has only seen the Skaikru group from a distance, so the listens intently to what Wren says of them, biting her lip to keep the smile at his opinion of the newcomers from showing. "Surviving will only take you so far," she says softly backing up what Wren says. "The only way you are going to get past surviving and onto living is to figure out how your ways and his ways align." She is standing out of the danger zone of Wren's ax and any flying wood. When Wren addresses Gideon she looks toward the woman "<In Trigedasleng> Greetings Gideon." she greets with a nod.

The glimpse that Cassie catches of Devin is brief, but it is enough. She looks over her shoulder towards the sight of the Second Child whom she's affectionately named 'Little Brother', hinting she might just not hate him as much as she hates the rest of her kru — yet. But the ribbing Wren gives her soon has her looking back to him, and she avoids making her worry over the missing youth too apparent. "You have a phrase… Juice Train Juice Town?" She is of course referring to jus drain jus daun, or 'blood must have blood', but this is not a phrase she's had much time to practice. "We have something similar, my people. If you break the law where I come from, even if it's a small law, you're floated." Not that these people would know what 'floating' means, but it's such second nature to her that she doesn't even think to explain it; only the gravity in her tone when she says the word carries its meaning. "We don't have a lot of food or water or even air in the sky. So survival is important. And now we're in a land we aren't used to, so survival is even more important. That's all I want." She shrugs, and if she's lying, it's to herself; she seems to be trying to convince her own mind rather than anyone else's that her answer is true.

"I would rather learn your ways than Cameron's," she says to Ginia. "You've survived down here longer."

"Short-sighted. You, and the rest of your skaikru." Wren states bluntly. "There is more to life than just survival. Living. Truly living. "You argue and yell because life is not fair." The axe is put down, and he walks towards her, getting a full measure of her. "You resent yourselves and each other by the simple fact that you're still breathing. You hate where you are but what you hate more is how you got the point where you currently are. You do not see there is more than one path for you to walk. You speak of things that are have been so difficult. You. That Cameron, speak repeatedly of a prison which you lived in. Instead of drawing strength from it, you let it create everything you are, even now you let it be everything you are. Your entire being. You skaikru reek of hate. And that…" he stops short a couple feet from her, his large frame towering. "…is /sad/. Your potential is squandered on your own pain. And all you skaikru suffer the same." A large finger prods at his chest. "Our people are sick, but yours suffer from an illness no herb can heal. Your spirit languishes and it will not heal until the day comes to pass that you no wish to walk the path you so stubborningly walk. For good or ill. You find your new path, or you will continue to walk the one already before you. It may lead you to dark places. So for your sake, and your people's sakes, I will hope you find your way. Forge something new. Something better."

Seated on that log, the measure of Cass Bonheur is nothing to be impressed by, at the moment. She looks up towards the big guy as he sets his axe down to loom over her, taking in his words in his forceful presence. Many would be intimidated by his display, but not her; she makes a point of not needing to get up or move to meet his gaze. "You don't know me, Wren kom Trikru, so don't tell me who I am," she tells the man in a perfectly calm, pleasant voice, but the words themselves show a glimmer of the real her. "I'll decide that." This stubborn bit of teenage wisdom out of the way, she adds, "And if I didn't want to forge something new and better, I wouldn't be here, talking to you right now."

"Don't I?" Wren looks down. "You are not here for something better. You are here because we give you the best chance at survival, yes? You said so yourself. You want to survive. If that means being cordial and kind in order to achieve that, than so be it. I would wonder if you're aim is really to understand us, or understand us to the point where we're no longer required." He tilts his head. "Tell me I'm wrong about that. And you still don't listen. You're not ready to listen. The words in your head are the only ones you care about. So whatever I say, whatever I may think, doesn't matter, the fall on ears ready to brush them aside because you don't agree. The deaf only listen to themselves." Nothing left to said, and the big guy has already decided his measure, going back to chop wood.

Calm, collected Cassandra curls a fist upon her thigh. Ah, there she is. Any moment now she's going to get up, swing a punch at an enemy more than twice her size, who could easily (and has good motive to) tear her head from her shoulders with her bare hands. Were this the Skybox, or maybe even the Delinquent camp, she would have; but here she does not. Instead she keeps her mouth shut, stares back at Wren, and then looks away when he turns back to his wood-chopping.

Que strides through the village with purpose to his step, though his expression has a stern quality to it. Around his waist is a leather belt, from which numerous metal tools hang— some with sharp edges, some that look to be hammers for both fine and hard work. In addition, he carries a *huge* sledgehammer leaning against his shoulder. He notices Cassandra first, for she stands out, and he tilts his head as he nears. "<In Trigedasleng> Is this one of the sky healers?" he asks of Wren, his expression hardening slightly.

No answer from the sky girl, and to Wren, that'll mean he called it right, just a good an answer as any. Not such a big dumb warrior is he. Picking up another log, he goes back to chopping in silence, little more to say to Cassandra until she proves she's otherwise worth talking to. As Que appears, he shakes his head. "<In Trigedasleng> I don't believe so. I would be wary of that one, Que. The skaikru healers are helping in the infirmary, and that is respectable. They've even done better than I had thought they would, but I believe that one is here for her own reasons. If she was a healer, I doubt she would be out here trying to speak with me." he replies with a grunt, splitting the log, and grabbing another.

She hears the word 'skai' and knows she's being spoken about, even if she doesn't know what's being said. Cassandra, offering a smile, turns towards Que and gives him a respectful little dip of her head. "Ai laik Cassandra kom Skaikru," she says, rising to her feet from the unchopped log she's been sitting on. Though she was in the infirmary earlier, and assisted with identifying a plant, for now she does indeed seem to be dedicating her time towards social indolence — or diplomacy, depending on how one looks on it. She extends the very tall stranger a handshake, regarding him curiously to see what he makes of the gesture.

Keeping his gaze upon Cassandra, Que studies her with a frank, appraising gaze, his eyes trailing from head down to her toes, and when it is done, his lips purse slightly. "Kaas. An. Dra. Ai laik Que kom Trikru." His voice is soft, steady, but his command of english does not seem as strong as some. "If not healer are you, why here be? What purpose are you having?" He gestures to himself, lifting his very heavy sledgehammer up and letting its head on the ground, "My having of purpose is the making of wood and metal for the clan." He pause, "Craftsman. Carp-en-ter. Me-talwork-er." That said, he lifts his left hand and stretches it, then sharply clenching one finger after another. Pop. Crack. Pop, go his knuckles. "<In Trigedasleng> What does she speak to you of? Does she pretend to make friends with us so that we will forget what they have done?"

"<In Trigedasleng> She speaks with many faces. She wants to learn from us to survive then discard us like bad wheat. But, she doesn't know herself, Que. She's a child; angry, resentful, and hateful. I'm sure we were much the same at her age. Well, /I/ know I was the same. She has potential like the rest of them do, but with her," Wren tosses a look at Cassandra, so obviously they're talking about her. "<In Trigedasleng> I can't decide if she's really here for her tribe, or here for herself. I haven't made a decision yet. She walks a dangerous path, spirit poisoned. She can still find a better path, but she'll have to be the one to choose it." That all being said, he does grin at the mason. "Your English is horrible." he laughs. "How will you ever expect to bed one of those skaikru with a tongue like that? Perhaps headbutt one like Gideon did? They may like that kind of thing."

It is only fair that Que should butcher her name, considering how the Skaigirl has been butchering the Grounders' language in her efforts to learn it. So when he dubs her Kaas-an-dra, she gives no indication that his pronunciation is off. "I grew up on a… farm," she says, for that is indeed what Farm Station is — more or less. A finger of hers points to the sky. "It was an artificial one, and very condensed. So I know a lot about plants, and more about Earth than most of my people do. I'm not a medtech," (what her people call 'healers', apparently.) "But I know what herbs and plants the medtechs need to help your people. I'm here to help them understand the treatments you're already using, and to choose treatments from what you have available on Earth. Where I come from, we turn our plants into pills and extracts before we use them to help people." She glances at Wren when he makes it clear he's speaking to her, but as she has no idea what he's saying, only speaks to Que with a humoured smile. "You can think of me as a medical translator. I translate plants into healing medicine, and healing medicine into plants. Your English is fine."

Que's attention focuses upon Wren for a time, but as the warrior speaks, his eyes flick over to regard Cassandra with his usual stern expression. "<In Trigedasleng> Ah, I can barely remember it, so long ago was my childhood, but I was content. I did not know myself then, though; it is the nature of children to struggle to find who they are. Perhaps she will find a way to cleanse her spirit, but perhaps you are right— we should watch her in the meantime." He presses his hands together, loudly cracking the knuckles in his other hand, slowly and sharply, "Farmer of medicine you are then? If truth is being said, that purpose having is one of honor." Though he does look a bit skeptical about if he believes her or not. A grin is turned to Wren, though, "Practice am I rarely having time for. Thinking that exotic will they find me, no? Bah." He grunts a bit, "Unsurprised by Gideon's mating habits. If wanting to bed one of the skaikru am I, will making of shelter do. Or other useful thing. Gifts have suited fine in my habits."

While all this lecturing has been going on and the balking at it from Cassandra, and whatever else has been going on, Ginia has been pulled aside by one of the Trikru healers to speak to her about her brother's condition. Whatever is said to her has her looking less worried that she was earlier. With a nod to the others she excuses herself, with a reminder to Wren about seeing her later about the tattoos she heads off toward where she resides.

Wren shrugs. "Not like it's really that surprising, is it?" Wren remarks. "She's always had an interest in the strange." Says the man who keeps an assortment of old Earth oddities in his little home, not really one to talk on liking strange things. "She's been gone a long time, only just returned. She needs a bath. Or three." Though he seems approve of Que's idea. "Hadn't thought about it that way. Going for the strong silent type, yes? They may like that. I think a few of them are looking for a real man, not the boys I've seen so far." As for Cassandra, he shrugs. "<In Trigedasleng> She may think I hate her, I don't. Distrust isn't hate, especially so when you have your own gains. She's not likely to start a fuss with the way things are now. I suspect she'll learn what she needs to know, then vanish. Nature will decide the rest. Still, she has potential. Her own thoughts betray her."

Gideon has seen to her state of ash-covered skin and oiiled hair, emerging from the stables with wet clothes, but otherwise a sense of cleanliness. She is toweling off her hair before hooking the rough woven cloth in her belt and throwing her hair up into a lazy mess of wet curls. She starts toward the others now, finally feeling presentable. She grins as she comes up to Que, giving the taller and far burlier Grounder a punch in the shoulder — in greeting of course. "<In Trigedasleng> Are you allowing him to make fun of me?" She casts Wren a glare, and then glances toward the Skaikru lingering around.

"<In Trigedasleng> When /don't/ I make fun of you?" Wren smiles broadly at Gideon.

"<In Trigedasleng> Ah, Wren. I do not /go for/ anything, I am but what I am. It is not an act. You fight, I build. We can be only what we are." That said, Que does offer a grin to Wren, before adding more seriously, "Premature, thinking of bedding the skaikru, no? The staheda has decided not of yet if peace will be or Blood Must Have Blood will be." As Gideon punches him, he turns an ominous glare at her, and going so far as to crack one of his knuckles in warning. That's all a farce, of course, for a broad grin breaks upon his features a moment later, "<In Trigedasleng> Wren says you have been seeking a mate, and have already proceeded to the headbutting stage of the courting dance. The suggestion seemed plausible."

Gideon blinks at this talk of bedding the skaikru, and she looks abruptly suspicious. "<tr>Who are…" And then Que clairifies, and a bit of the tension in her shoulders releases. She snorts, shaking her head a bit. "Blood has already had blood," the archer remarks, but her shoulders roll. "Though I suppose blood can always have more blood." Then she considers Que, brows arched. "<In Trigedasleng> Do you really think the skaikru pose a threat to Trikru?"

Is truth being said on Cassandra the medicinal farmer's part? There are even some among the Skaikru who doubt that, questioning the manner in which she obtained her so-called Earth 'skills'. But she does not understand what Wren is saying about her, and so she does not seem to think he hates her. Rather, she remains courtly towards him and the other Grounders, even if words on occasion fail her when faced with such a culture clash. "I have been meaning to speak to one of you about that," she recalls on the topic of her dubious craft, glancing between the trio around the wood-chopping mound. "Do you have a farmer of medicine among your own? An Earth Skills expert. Or a tracker." What else would they call it? 'Skills expert?' "While Silver and Morgan are helping Keta, maybe I could help you gather medicine in the forest." And then there's all this talk of bedding, which has even Boner raising an eyebrow. "Our medtechs suggested we don't exchange bodily fluids. It could help the spread of disease." She would know all about spreading disease, her own people would say.

"<In Trigedasleng> Anything can be a threat, Gideon. Just depends on if you consider them one as they are." Wren remarks idly. "<In Trigedasleng> Those people are angry, almost hateful. Most more than others. They are trouble, the sort who are looking for a fight, looking for an outlet. Some may disagree, but who's to say the more violent majority would simply act anyways?" he offers, rolling his shoulders from the wood-chopping. "<In Trigedasleng> Their healers are good at what they do, but I wonder how many of them are looking for compensation for their action? Payment. We don't know enough about them, and I don't know if we should be so curious. May come back to bite us later on if we're /too/ accepting of them." Then Cassandra is talking about, taking his attention only partly. He does know the word tracker, jerking his head at Gideon. The last part, he rolls his eyes. "You skaikru wouldn't know a joke if it slapped you in face."

Que responds to Gideon with a thoughtful expression on his face, "<In Trigedasleng> I do not know. They bring sickness, though now they seek to cure it. What if that was a ploy? They fall from the sky, and nearly -immediately- go straight to the Mountain Men? I do not trust them. But, I am not steheda. He will decide, and if he said there is to be peace, then I will go to the skaikru and see what it is they know of building." Que's voice is quite soft for how big and strong he is, and he purses his lips with some thought. He looks to Cassandra, and once more his eyes move over her, frankly evaluating— though there's nothing say, sexual about it. "Our healers be masters of herb lore, though some others, me as well, know of which needed plants to pick when hunting be. To degree lesser then healers be, yes?" He does nod his head and gesture with one of his strong hands to Wren, agreeing with him but adding, "<In Trigedasleng> Who do these skaikru follow? How can we know what they will do if we do not know their steheda? Perhaps I am too distrustful, but I think they are dangerous."

Gideon shakes her head at Wren, looking mostly bemused. Then she returns her gaze to Cassandra, arms crossing a bit at her chest. It isn't an aggressive stance, just a habitual one. She nods gently with Que's words. "I am the same… sometimes I gather herbs for our healers. Though… I do not think that we will object to donations for our stores, but you should be worrying about your own herb stores, shouldn't you?" She twists her mouth a bit now with Wren and Que's words. "<In Trigedasleng> Distrust the group, but certainly there are individuals we can trust." She shrugs her shoulders then. "<In Trigedasleng> I've heard that their leadership is up in the Sky still, but these youths broke their laws." Her mouth thins. "<In Trigedasleng> I have told two of them already that we have our own laws… they can't escape law and order."

The soft words that the large, burly Que speaks in his own language continue to vex Cassandra, who can only assume they are saying nice things. And so she listens attentively and curiously, for the first time in her life since infancy experiencing the very odd sensation of being out of the loop with the conversation around her. She has only ever heard English before, in person; not only good at speaking English, but at abusing it, twisting it and inferring between the lines. She deciphers of these strange people what she can through what they do not explicitly say, in their body language, in their facial expressions and in their tonality. For now, Que seems to pose the least threat, and so she takes in his evaluation of her with matching, open intrigue. "Do you use the willow bark, like we do? And goldenrod, and yarrow?" she asks him quietly, but Wren's jerk of his head towards Gideon soon has her turning her attention to the archer and former Skaikru prisoner.

"Give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, he'll eat for a lifetime." This has the air of some commonly-spoken platitude when the Skaigirl speaks it, and the sense in it is plainly understood. "I help you replenish your herb stores, I learn how you replenish your own — and then we both help each other in the long run, right? This morning I learned what you use for needles down here on Earth, and in return, we showed you how we use needles to drain fluid from lungs. And in return again, we have healed your sick. Now you'll know how to heal your sick better for a long time coming. I can share what I know about your planet, and you can show what you know about your planet." Whatever 'planet' means.

<FS3> Que rolls Survival: Good Success.

"<In Trigedasleng> Her," he gestures at Cassandra. "<In Trigedasleng> And another have already said they bicker and argue with each other, but you and I have heard that one for ourselves. They have no leader, they don't /want/ a leader, and I have a feeling they dislike the leadership they have in Sky. So who will lead them? They are rudderless, no guide, no forethought to their actions. I say they should learn to survive on their own. Don't war with them, but leave them to their own. Nature will decide if they survive." Wren says, seeming a bit put out. "<In Trigedasleng> I'm sure there are ones better than others, but it would mean taking the group as a whole, and there are too many unknowns. I don't know if I want to weigh the odds of so few worth our times, than the majority of ones who are more trouble than what they're worth. They've already made us sick, who knows what else they might be capable of? Even if they themselves don't realize it?" More skaikru talking. "<In Trigedasleng> This one almost seems /too/ eager to learn. Or I'm just just being more guarded about this entire thing than usual."

Martin exits the Seat and stretches a bit in the fresh air. Seeing a gathering of Grounders near, oh crap, Cassandra, he rubs his chin in thought, before deciding to head that way. So far she hasn't resulted in them getting gutted, but it might be wise to check in on things. Hearing the foreign language, he pauses and listens, seeing if maybe he can pick out some bits here and there that might possibly sound like something he knows, but it seems no good for now. Instead he walks up to the group and gives a slight bow of his head in greeting along with his usual smile, "Hello. How are things going out here?" The question is directed more to Cass than the Grounders.

"Using the bark of the willow, yes. Objection not have with sharing lores if peace had, though craft master of metal and wood is lore of my having. Am expert not of the herb lore." He doesn't say anything about the other herbs, because then what Gideon says finally sinks in, and this is news to Que, he turns a frankly surprised expression to Gideon, "<In Trigedasleng> The skaikru sends us their criminals? Is this their punishment, banishment to our lands?" He turns and looks directly at Cassandra, his expression challenging and voice a touch harder, "Kass-An-Dra kom Skaikru, you criminal are? What skailaw have broken you? Your purpose having here is medicine farmer not, but banished from sky?" And he turns that challenging look to Martin, "And you! Too are criminal, banished from sky? Think to come to us and take our lands in exile you are?" For once his voice rises from softness into a rumbling, hard tone, and one hand reaches down to heft up the REALLY BIG hammer he had, hefting it up to rest on his shoulder, narrow-eyed.

Gideon tilts her head as she as she listens to the two Trikru. She is obviously trying to balance out the word count as she shrugs and grunts, "<In Trigedasleng> Let her be curious. Let her be helpful. She does something against our laws, we put her before Oxfor for justice." Then she hooks her hands on her hips, listening now as Que goes ahead and runs with the whole surrounded by criminals thing. This time, she is quite curious.

"<In Trigedasleng> If I can't hurt them, neither can you. And I have first dibs on them." Wren notes to try and put a hand on Que's shoulder. "<In Trigedasleng> Oxfor gave them guestright, and we will honor that." He says nothing else on the matter, casting a look at Gideon, shrugging. "<In Trigedasleng> Fair enough. For now." And he goes back to chopping wood. Has better things to do than stand around argue sematics all day long.

Excellent timing, Martin! He looks to Que and picks up on everything he says, even if it is a bit stilted. "Treason," he says succintly. He has never shirked from what he did and is always honest about it. "Myself and a few others objected to the injustice of our rulers and chained ourselves to the doors of one of the stations in protest. We didn't damage anything or hurt anyone, but, in an environment with limited resources - oxygen, water, food - any objection can be treasonous, so my friend and I were arrested." That's the story. He looks then to Cassandra to see what she says.

Wren clearly has a lot to say… in his own language. Cassandra tries to keep up, pay attention, decipher what meaning she can, but Martin soon shows up with words that are a lot easier to understand. So to him she lifts her eyebrows and smiles slightly in a small, non-verbal greeting, acknowledging him being here but not wanting to interrupt the discussion the Grounders are having until she's directly spoken to.

The mention Que makes of her and Martin being criminals has the dark-complected Skaigirl raising her hands to try and pacify him, but it also visibly makes her sad; if she's faking it, she's doing a very, very good job, but she does not look like she likes to have that subject brought up. "My purpose here is both," she admits to the man with the giant hammer. "I didn't break any laws of my people. But yes, all of us here on the Ground were banished by them. We were sent here to find out if Earth is survivable, and for that, my medicine farming's important. But I…" She takes a deep breath. "I would rather help you any way I can than help… them." She lifts her gaze pointedly to the sky, then back to him. "I'm not the only one of my people who feels this way. We will respect your laws."

Que stares at Martin a moment, and looks at Gideon, then back to Martin with a frown, "Understand not, you. Treason? And live you do?" Wren's hand on his shoulder does pacify him, somewhat. Still, he's bewildered by Martin's revelation, "Death of a Thousand Cuts would be punishment had, if against the heda you acted, I think. The skaiheda, weak sounds." He shakes his head slowly, setting the giant hammer back down and turning to look at Cassandra, "Understand not, you either. Not criminal, yet banished? Question it is not, of you respecting our laws." He makes a rough gesture of negation, "You stand in Trikru, our land." He looks back to Gideon again, "<In Trigedasleng> I do not object to their curiosity. I simply do not know if I wish to /satisfy/ it. But the steheda will decide."

"What injustice?" Gideon asks in the wake of Que's own questions. She also nods in agreement with her peer, and her own suspicion starts to grow. "Grey kom Skaikru murdered his mother, he confessed that much. I do not understand Devin kom Skaikru's crimes, beyond it is illegal for anyone to have more than one child." Then she offers Que a wry, almost secretive smile, and her shoulders lift and fall. "<In Trigedasleng> Then don't… you are only supposed to satisfy my curiosity." There is a mirthful glint in her mossy eyes, but the she looks back to Martin and Cassandra.

Martin nods to Que, "And death is what we likely would have experienced…for all crimes. They do not have the resources to keep alive those who have broken laws. Instead of death of a thousand cuts, it is death by casting you in the depths of dark space, taking all the air from you. We call it 'floating.'" He smiles then and looks up at the sky, "Not weak. They just chose to see if we could survive down here." His attention turns to Gideon then and he gestures to her, "You answered your own question. Injustices like punishing a second child for being born. He was locked up simply because he was born second."

Rather than explain her own crimes, Cassandra quickly latches on to Gideon's words on Devin, and points a finger at the archer. "Devin kom Skaikru is considered a criminal by my people because he was born," she reveals, and there's a hint of ember in her now hardened gaze. There is clearly more to this friendly and glowing ball of sunshine than meets the eye; the hurt Wren spoke of, that embedded grudge, is palpable now when she speaks of her own. "His mother bore a second child. We do not have food on the Ark, or water, or medicine, not enough for everyone, so we limit reproduction. For Devin's birth, his mother was floated, and he was imprisoned. That's why Martin committed 'treason' by trying to speak out against our… Skaiheda. I'm a criminal too, but my only 'crime' was…" She glances aside at the Skaiboy and bites her tongue, colour rising in her cheeks, before she looks back to Que. "…Not something anyone else would consider a crime." Maybe she's lying. Most of the Delinquents would confirm that she almost definitely is. But right now, she's content to play the victim card, and she's doing so all in.

Que blinks at Gideon, at mention of Devin's crime, he looks flatly disbelieving, "No twos of children? Joke you play on me, Gideon? Will haul you over shoulder and throw you in river!" That said, there's a sudden, shockingly loud laugh out of his lips at whatever she said in Trigedasleng. Shocking not so much because its louder then anyone else's laugh, but because its full-throated and he's so *quiet* usually. Still, when the skaikru confirm it, he shakes his head in astonishment, saying absently for Gideon, "<In Trigedasleng> I will make you a box, a very pretty box, and in it you will place all your curious things, and you will be satisfied." That said, he turns to look at Martin thoughtfully, his voice soft again, "Your sky city be strange, but perhaps wrong am I to consider weakness where understanding of mine is still young. Apologies." He turns and listens to Cassandra thoughtfully, his lips pursing. Its not clear if he believes her, but he doesn't seem to /disbelieve/ her, either. He's thoughtful. Perhaps slowly thoughtful is a better way to describe him. "So air from you was to be taken, and instead, banishment. To discover the earth, can survive? So peace you seek. What next?"

Martin looks over at Cassandra as he notices her sideways glance and blush. He would reach over and give her a pat to the shoulder, but it's Cassandra, also they are busy trying to explain things to the Grounders. Turning his attention to Que he nods, "It is a very strange place. A city surrounded by emptiness, no air, no water, no food, no warmth. Rather than cast us into the emptiness, they sent us here, so at least we had a chance to survive." At the question of what next, he shrugs lightly, "Hopefully we start governing ourselves. Better than they did in the skai. And hopefully, we become friends and maybe one day join you together." He shrugs, "Or maybe not, and we will go our separate paths as friends."

"<In Trigedasleng> When have I ever been satisfied?" Gideon casts Que a look, her smile lopsided. Then she shakes her head slightly at Martin and Cassandra. "Your laws are just that… yours. But, I have said before… I hope that your people do not think that laws don't exist down here, because they do…" Then waves her hand a bit, almost dismissively. She now listens to why the delinquents are here to begin with. She frowns a bit at this idea of them governing themselves, and she arches a brow. "Few of you seen to want to be governed…"

Cassandra sends another glance towards Martin, and this one, privately, even looks mildly curious and impressed — almost as curious as she is about the Grounders, though for now she focuses primarily on them. "Would you teach us your governance?" she asks Gideon directly, turning to sincerely meet her gaze. Last she saw this woman was far off in the battlefield, falling, as she was far too wary to rubberneck the prisoner once secured at camp. She still seems a little wary. "If you'd let me join you in the forest to look for medicinal herbs, I can explain the science I learned in the sky, and you can explain your laws. I'll make sure my people obey them and explain them to them when I get back to camp. That way, we'll only have ourselves to blame this time if we do something like… unknowingly cross your boundaries on the way to Mount Weather again. Which was an accident, by the way."

Clearly, Que has difficulty with Martin's description of the sky city. His brow scrunches and he looks almost a little bit anxious, and heaves up his hammer to carefully feel its trustworthy, reliable weight. "If yourselves you do not govern yet, if leadership have not and want not, then do I question how can it be that the skaikru will find sitting before steheda at summit, and peace make. How bound can you be, if none bind you?" He gestures to the Staheda's Hall, "Staheda is wise and will decide, but binds this village only does his word." At mention of the Mountain Men by Cassandra, Que's expression darkens slightly. Still, he turns a warm, if slight smile to Gideon, "<In Trigedasleng> Ah, /that/ simply means you have not chosen the right man for you yet, Master Archer."

Martin either doesn't notice Cassandra's second glance or just doesn't react to it. Instead he is busy explaining things to Que and Gideon. "We just landed less than two weeks ago. We went from having law and order in a very different environment that this to, well, this. You likely have some method for determining who will lead you - traditions. We came here fresh without any of that. It isn't surprising that some have reacted to the new freedom. Don't worry, though. They will come around to the realization that law and order is necessary and can be good, when they are done trying to fend for themselves in the wilderness. We are already starting to form some leadership. We hope to have a small council of decision-makers soon."

Cassandra agrees with nothing Martin's just said. Which is why, in front of the Grounders and as a show of unity, she nods her head in complete agreement, whereas at Camp by now she'd be skewering him with a glare and some choice words out of Cole's lexicon. She looks thoughtful and serene, the very paragon of peace and rationality.

Gideon looks suspicious of Martin's words, though she doesn't immediately voice them. She casts Que a look, and then her shoulders rise and fall with a small shrug. "<In Trigedasleng> Not our business." Then she looks back toward Cassandra at her peaceful agreement with the boy's words. She just grunts a small reply, and crosses her arms a bit.

Que looks a little skeptical at Martin's explanation, but by the end, he nods his head, seeming to find no alternative but to accept it. He shares a look with Gideon, and shrugs in a very similar way, "<In Trigedasleng> I suppose. If they have no staheda who commands, I simply do not see how the staheda can summit with them. But." He shrugs again, this time looking rueful, "<In Trigedasleng> I am a craftsman, not a heda. Decisions do not rest on my shoulders, so it is not mine to understand." He looks over to Martin then, and gives a slight nod, "The staheda will decide." he says again, more firmly this time. "Learn laws of Trikru must you, for though you are Skaikru, these woods are ours." He purses his lips a moment and regards Martin, blinking suddenly, "Ai laik Que kom Trikru, craftsman of Coesbur. What purpose having are you here? Healer? Medicine farmer as Kaas-An-Dra?"

Martin looks over at Cassandra as she just nods along. He adds to what he said, "And if we don't figure it out, then the wilderness will sort us all out and we will be one less concern you have." Then, when Que asks his question, knowing Cass and he have very similar skillsets, Martin nods and looks back at Que, "Ai laik Martin kom Skaikru, and I am also a medicine farmer." That probably works better than 'jack of all trades.'

Kaas-An-Dra, as she's been dubbed by Que kom Skaikru, offers Martin a small, genuine-seeming smile while he formally introduces himself as a 'medicine farmer' like her. "I should get back to the med-bay," she then says to the Grounders, surely meaning the infirmary at the Seat. "Silver and Morgan might need some help monitoring your sick. Will you come find me there before our group leaves, if you want to take me up on my offer to help you gather more medicine from the forest?" She looks to Gideon specifically, but extends it to the Master of Wood as well with a secondary glance. "So we can talk about your laws, too." She already starts to turn away, but lingers a moment to see their response.

"Mart-een." Que nods his head slightly at Martin's introduction and seems to accept the skaikru sent their medicine farmers with their healers. He eyes Kaas-An-Dra for a moment, "The staheda has not decided if there is to be peace or if Jus drein jus daun." Is his response, and a firm one at that, "If peace is decided, perhaps together will we work, though time of mine spent *building* is better time then finding plants for healers. Hunting and finding is for hobby me."

Devin steps out of one of the buildings, looking refreshed and much cleaner, but without his pack and spear. At least his skin anyway. His clothes are still as dirty as they've always been. He glances around and spots Martin speaking with the grounders. He tilts his head slightly, but he doesn't seem to be very surprised to see them here though. Gideon had told him some of the Skaikru was here. He glances around for a moment before he starts towards them.

There is another skaiboy! Que is standing there, wearing a leather belt with all manner of metal tools hanging off of it, and holding a huge sledgehammer up, which is resting on his shoulder casually. He nods to Cassandra as she departs, "Leidon, Kass-An-Dra." But, his dark eyes focus on Devin and he turns his usual inquisition on the guy. "Ai laik Que kom Trikru, craftsman of Coesbur. What purpose having are you here? One sky healer, yes? Or again medicine farmer? Or other purpose having?" He seems to want an accurate inventory of all the wandering skaikru.

"It is a pleasure, Que kom Skaikru," Mart-een returns. He watches Cassandra begint o depart, before looking back at Que, "We look forward to that day of peace. Until then, please excuse the interruption of your work." When Que notes Devin, Martin blinks at bit. He wan't with the group was he? "Oh, hello, Devin!"

There are no eyes on Cassandra's face when she turns away from the Grounders to head back into the infirmary, so when she spots Devin heading her way and looks pleased to see him, that can only be surprisingly sincere. "Glad you aren't dead, Little Brother," she tells him with a genial grin, and tries to bump shoulders with him as she passes. Taking Que's subtle threat of jus drein jus daun into stride, she soon disappears from view behind the doors to the Seat of Coesbur.

Devin smiles at Cass as she speaks to him. "Thanks Big Sister." He offers back in return, bumping shoulders with her as they pass each other. He glances back at her to see where she's going before he looks back to Martin and Que, bowing his head to Que. "Hello." He pauses briefly to glance at Martin when the questions begin. "Gideon brought me here." He says simply. "She found me and took me here." He looks back to Que for a moment then smiles to Martin. "Hey Martin." He offers the other boy a slight wave.
Morgan has left.

"Dev-een?" Que's expression takes on a questioning look, his eyes finding Gideon's as they wonder, "The one that was two, and for being crime was to be … 'fa-looted'?" He -still- finds it hard to believe that such a thing could be true, quite clearly. Hefting his sledgehammer off his shoulder, he sets it head-down and crosses his arms, looking Devin up and down frankly.

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