Day 005: Peace or Bloodshed
Summary: Fiona seeks out Grey to try to avert the march to bloodshed following the Grounder attack.
Date: 5 May 2016
Related: Follows Weather to Take the High Road or the Low.
Fiona Grey 


The edge of camp, The Wilderness
Clearing, woods, the usual.
5 Days After Landing

Less than a hundred kids in the camp now, and Grey is notorious enough that it only takes a few casual inquiries to find out where he is. When Fiona finally does find him, she spends a moment checking out what he's doing, plucking two small strips of jerky from her shirt pocket before making her way over with food in hand.

Grey has gathered a small group of teens, each of them with a stick a couple of feet long in their hands, and appears to be drilling them out at the edge of the clearing. Grabbing one young woman by the shoulder, he half-swings her around, snarling, "No, damn it! You're leaving yourself wide open." One foot scuffles in to kick at one of her feet, "Keep your feet under you, don't lunge." Probably, he's not actually angry at the girl.

Fiona stands at the end of the makeshift training area boundary, before finally calling out, "Hey, Grey. You got a minute?" The jerky is tucked back into her pocket, expression remaining intent. "I need to talk to you." Spoken calmly, without a pressing tone of demand.

Probably to the relief of the young woman trying something for the first time and getting chewed out for it, Grey turns away at the voice. She flips him the bird behind his back, then steps back and starts practicing the swing again. At least she's not lunging anymore. Grey steps away, a tree-branch held in his own hand. He swings the makeshift club at a nearby fern as he steps away from the practicing group, "What do you want," his lips gather to spit out 'Princess,' but then twist, and he settles on, "Fiona?"

"To talk to you. In private." Out comes the jerky again, one piece held out slightly be Fiona in offering. "Take a walk with me?"

Grey narrows his eyes at the offering for a moment, then looks over his shoulder, "Take five." Not that any of them know precisely what five minutes is anymore, "Then we'll see if any of you can give me a bruise or two." He eyes the jerky for a moment, then shrugs, taking the piece and nodding out toward the woods for Fiona to take the lead.

Perhaps wisely, Fiona is not inclined to stray far from camp, but the forest edge is safe enough. She waits long enough for them to have a little distance before speaking. "I know if anyone has a plan to get our people back, it's you."

Grey pulls a chunk of the jerky free with his teeth, tucking it into his cheek to let it gather moisture, "I do. It's not a great plan, but it's a plan." At least he's willing to admit that. "We can't do anything tonight. But tomorrow, we give everyone who wants one a weapon, tell of a couple people to defend the camp, and then we go back to the river and track 'em from there. Find 'em, kill 'em, get our people back."

"You're right. That is not a great plan." Her tone is not mocking, she's serious. "Those people were watching us for God knows how long before they attacked without us even seeing them. They've clearly lived here their entire lives, they know the terrain, and they have better weapons and more people with training." She glances askance at him. "It may have to come down to fighting, but there might be a better way."

Grey accepts the first comment… after all, he said it himself. The next couple are accepted too, but the last? He stops dead in his tracks, staring at Fiona in shock and horror. Anger follows quickly after that, "Are you kidding me?" His lip curls disdainfully, "You want to talk to people who shot us full of arrows out of an ambush? Who don't even speak the same language as us? How're your friends doing, by the way? The two who got shot up?" Shaking his head hard, his sneer deepens, "Or do you think we can sneak up on them? People who we must've walked right the hell by at the river?"

"I'm pretty sure I already made the point that trying to sneak up on them would be pointless." Fiona doesn't back down. "You're smart, Grey. You know what will happen if we just go charging in. Hell, they're probably expecting us to attack them and laughing their asses off, because it'll be a slaughter. You know that. I know you know that." She takes a breath. "If we try talking to them, we get them in front of us. If they haven't killed our people, it means they want something. If we're smart, we find out what. I'm not asking for a goddamned love fest, just proposing an option that won't result in a bloodbath. If it breaks down, fighting's still an option." Her mouth twists wryly. "Not to mention they'd probably kill the negotiator first, and that rids you of an annoyance, doesn't it?"

Pointing back behind him toward the camp with his jerky-filled hand, for all that the gesture draws a grimace and a roll of his wounded shoulder, Grey inquires, "You think they want to talk to the people who just stuck their friends with arrows, threatened the lives of others, and are doing God knows what to them right now?" He steps up closer to the other teen, scowling down at her, "You're miss-timin' your play, Fiona. You see those kids I was teachin'? They're not murderers. They're thieves and politicals and people who claim to be innocent. They came to me. They want to get their friends back. They want revenge." Letting out a weary sigh, Grey adds in, "And there's damned few people in this camp I want dead. If we're gonna survive, we're gonna need everyone who wants to pitch in alive."

"We both know this isn't about what they want." Fiona crosses her arms over chest and looks up at him, meeting his eyes. "And it's not about making a play. It's about survivng. Adapting. Staying alive. If we try and succeed, everyone lives. If we fail, they get their fight, and probably lose their lives." She studies him intently. "If there's any possibility to avoid more of our people getting killed, isn't it worth trying? We literally have nothing to lose, and if we fail, we fight anyway."

Grey shakes his head, "You think I can make them think anything? I am one of them, Fiona." Once more, that anger flares up behind his dark eyes, "I'm pissed. I think I'm angrier than I've been since…" His cheek twitches, and his eyes drop away from those of the other teen, "Well, since I went crazy on my mom." He steps back, studying the jerky in his hand, then lets his hand drop back to his side, apparently no longer hungry, "Ain't nothin' I can do to keep you from goin' out there and gettin' yourself killed. But I bet you there ain't ten kids in that camp who want peace right now. Hell, they shot your best friends. How can you not want revenge?"

"Martin will want to negotiate. Lip just wants to live." She shakes her head. "I want to live. I want us all to live. That doesn't mean I'm not angry. And sure as hell am scared." Her mouth purses. "I know you can't stop me, but if I went on my own and got anywhere, the fight you'd bring would tear it down. We need to work together." Her mouth purses and her face scrunches up in frustration. "You gonna do what they want, or what at least has the best chance of keeping them alive?" That's the rub, isn't it? "Help me. Please."

"No." There's perhaps more burst in the words than Grey intended, "I'm not gonna talk to any fucking Grounder, even if they speak the same damned language. And they don't. You can't talk to something that doesn't speak the same damned language." That anger wasn't gone long, because it's flaring up once more, "They shot Q." There is, perhaps, more pain there than there should be, "They shot her in the stomach and they threatened to kill her. They did kill Rees and Perry. Ruth's missing. Devin and Morgan are captured. No!" He thumps his chest with his right hand, "I'm gonna do everything I can to give those people," again, the gesture back toward the camp with his left arm draws a wince of pain, "just exactly what they want, Grounder blood on our blades, because it's what I want too."

"Then when it's our blood that spills on the ground, Grey?" Fiona shakes her head, "It's going to be on your hands. But if you're lucky, you won't live long enough to have to face up to that."
ooc If the consensus seems to be in the direction of negotiation, then undoubtedly that'll be tried. Grey may end up being rogue in that case, or may get carried along.

His voice rising even further, Grey is very close to shouting, "Our blood is already on the ground! They killed two of us! They shot us out of ambush. If they wanted peace, that sure as hell ain't the way you say 'hello.'" He holds out the piece of jerky-peace-offering, "If all you want to do is talk nonsense, I got work to do."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License