sixthiterationlogs | Let the blind lead the blind

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Let the blind lead the blind

WHO: Kylo Ren
WHERE: Just outside the Inn
WHEN: February 1st
OPEN TO: All; Threadjack style
WARNINGS: None other than that this is really long.
STATUS: Open

The fact that daily meals not only existed, but seemed to do so in spite of snow, earthquakes, and auroras in the sky, was one of a few consistently positive glimmers of hope for the village and its inhabitants. It also had the benefit of drawing a large number of those same inhabitants to one predictable location more often than not. For Ren, that was normally a reason to avoid the inn in the hours after dawn and before dusk. However, with his mind on the conversations he had had with Sansa and Veronica, and the missing beast presumably still roaming somewhere out in the canyon, Ren knew he couldn't keep approaching the problem the way he had been, previously.

Veronica's advice still lingered in his mind fresh enough after a month of thought to have him trying something new. He waited for a good number of people to enter the inn before doing so himself, and asked, with a softened tone and a calm voice, if people could spare a moment when they finished to have a discussion.

He had missed the most recent meeting, entrenched as he had been in his training. It had been another lost opportunity, and he wanted no more of those. This was as good of a chance as any, and he was taking action before action could be taken from him.

With his request submitted, he left the inn and borrowed a sturdy crate from outside one of the unused buildings. He took a seat on it, just outside the front of the inn, during the meal. Most people came and went through the doors, and it gave him a good position without worrying about the crowding of the growing village's size packed inside one space.

When enough people decided to come out and take part, he stood back up, his long hair loosely pulled back, and the scar the cut across his face and down his arm far more visible for it. He looked around at the faces gathered, some familiar, others new, and straightened his back, standing taller and more assured. He needed people to trust him, or at least trust that what he had to say might be important. But he could not be harsh, he could not demand. He had to coax reason out, and the only way to do so was to offer his ideas as ideas, and nothing more.

"A lot has happened in this canyon. Some of you have been here for far more of it than I have. There have been hazards, storms, unusual discoveries, and violent creatures. People come and go, almost always without the slightest inclination as to how or why. I myself have gone and returned, and I remember nothing of it." He paused there, one hand holding onto the metal staff he had been using so long now it had become an extension of him. He rested it on the ground like a cane now, using it to keep himself grounded.

"This canyon is unpredictable. The dangers and threats that may face us in the future can not be anticipated wholly, and there is no way of knowing who among us will still be around to see them. But one thing is clear. I do not believe our captors have ever intended anything positive of this place. They observe, and they prevent our escape. They take our strength, our possessions, our memories," He hesitates a moment, his grip tightening on the staff, his voice sharper for a moment before settling back to an even tone. "And they toy with us. We have no idea who they are, what their true intentions may be, or how they came to bring us here, only that for now we are trapped here, together."

He looks over the group that has gathered, a frown crossing his face, his brows furrowed a moment before smoothing over. He has to choose his words carefully, and for the sometimes reckless young man, it isn't easy not to dive straight in.

"I think it's time we discuss whether or not this place needs more than the loose assortment of tasks and common, repeated actions it has as it currently stands. I believe we need a leadership in place. A council. With how unpredictable this place has proven to be, no one person can or should be trusted with that task but more dangers will come, we will face more disasters, more attacks that we can not see coming. We can not assume that we will always have the luxury of waiting until after the fact to react."

He breathes, slow and deep, and tries to find the words again, searching for the right phrasing, the right voice.

"I think a council is something we should consider. A group of people to share the burden of making tough calls or assigning tasks when things go wrong, or when something needs to get done. It will not work, however, if disagreement runs rampant underneath it. That's why I came here. At the very least, it should be discussed. If the majority is against it, I will drop the matter, but if we do not at least have this conversation, I do not think this village will last many disasters before the fragile organization the structure of it is currently built on collapses and falls apart."

Having said his piece, Ren stepped aside, and offered the area he had been speaking from to anyone who might choose to use it.

[This is a meeting post open to threadjacking, interruptions, opinions, and the like. If your character has anything to say, let them do so. I'll drop a secondary comment below for Ren specifically, otherwise go wild and respond to anyone you like or start your own thing. It's intended to be an IC discoure over whether or not the village needs some form of leadership, but any actual organizing of a leadership is not intended or planned to be formed from this meeting.]

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"No, you're right," Peggy says, a touch guilty that she'd been so quick to sarcasm, but it's been a difficult week for her and she's not entirely sure that it's going to be over so quickly. "The trouble I see is that even if we put leadership in charge, people in those roles, there's no guarantee we'll get the whole population here, not without force," she says, thinking of the months that Finnick and Annie, the two of them, had been out in the wilderness. She thinks of the meetings she's missed because she was out in the canyons.

"I also think that people are already stepping up," she says. "The team tracked down that creature without needing someone in charge," she points out. "We found Margaery and Kate. Perhaps a directory of expertise, but even that has been accomplished to some degree by the pooling of knowledge and contributions that Jo has set out. I understand the want for this," Peggy promises. "I've been seeking purpose myself, I know all too well how not having answers can wear you down. I also know that I've yet to run into anyone who wasn't willing to share knowledge, to help," she says firmly. "People are taking care of bigger things while you do the work we do need so desperately. Perhaps we ought to be recording it better or running a directory of expertise, but I know that I trust we will survive because of the group efforts. We'd have starved months ago, if that weren't the case. I know that, I've been here since the first day," Peggy promises. "I keep track of everyone who arrives, I do my best to meet them all. So yes, maybe we need to begin asking what people's skills are. I don't think people's behaviours need changing, though, because everyone I've met has been firmly focused on survival. Perhaps we simply organize it, to your point, but that doesn't require a figurehead so much as a scribe."

"Did that team form before or after the creature killed someone," he asks, voice softening for the nature of the query. Frightened as he was, he was not trying to start a panic, or prey on outright fear to make a point. He knew all he could do was speak his honest feelings and hope someone heard, responded to him--a daunting task, considering how much he kept to himself. "And when I arrived, that team let it disappear unexamined, is what I was told.

"We can't just react to things, this isn't so much a call for leadership but a question of thinking ahead, and saying out loud what we see, for me. I see people disappearing that were volunteering for very important roles, I see people arriving on your list who would take advantage of a lack of infrastructure, because they don't care about survival, only power."

He took a steadying breath: "It happened where I'm from. My home is torn apart by gangs because some people decided to settle into the disaster area instead of get out. And it doesn't have to happen violently here, but I know people are making lives here, I know people will get complacent. Personally, I want to get out, and I don't know what happens here when those desires clash. I don't know who decides, or how, but someone will step in if it doesn't exist before that."

She raises her brows, scoffing. "No one let anything disappear. You clearly haven't been here long enough if you don't know how this place operates," is her remark, drawing herself to full height as her words grow more clipped, her pronunciation sharper as it tends to do when her blood starts to boil. She knows that he likely doesn't know better, but he should, especially if he's standing here demanding more information. "If you want people to talk to each other and organize, then please don't wander into an event like this insinuating that people here haven't done their very best to do exactly that under difficult circumstances."

"If you think that you can predict magical expanding canyons and vanishing monsters, by all means, do," she challenges. "Surviving and seeking escape aren't mutually exclusive tasks. I should know, I've been doing both." Clearly, this is not a place for her to be and she gives him a nod of her head. "You're right. I don't have any suggestions for you," she says, glancing around her and deciding that her time is better spent searching for Steve.

He deflates, but doesn't completely crumple or fall back. If not for the nature of the place, he could predict it. He's so used to focusing on the future, to knowing it to an extent, he isn't sure how to argue the present situation without coming off paranoid and delusional.

But he wasn't speaking out of anger, and he doesn't know what to do with her own. His own gaze back at her is soft, not quite wounded--he doesn't want to skate by on any kind of pity, but simply wants to be understood: "That's the point, I don't know enough about how this place operates. I'm telling you what I've been told, and I wasn't even directed to a better person for answers. I don't know who was on that team, just that on day one, someone told me a woman was brutally killed and the culprit disappeared."

There are other points to clarify, survival versus complacency, the attachments forming in the camp that might inspire some to stop putting an effort toward escape, but he won't hold her here against her will. She seems more than capable of making her voice heard when she wants it.

"Excuse me?" Ren had been keeping out of it, off to the side, seeing how well Kira would hold up and trying to get an idea of where other's stood. It's no surprise Peggy disagrees. It seems to him like there isn't a thing in the galaxy they do agree on, but her last comment, her posturing, snaps him out of observation and back into the meeting he'd started. She's leaving, and maybe he should just let her, but he's tired of people brushing past the entire point as if they understand what he's asking for, previously half demanding, and it's clear many of them don't.

"That's the point, isn't it." He calls after her, his voice sharp before he can rein it back in. He manages before he continues but the edge of a curl is still at the corner of his mouth and the downward turn of his brow.

"He doesn't know. People take for granted what anyone does or doesn't know. That's the point. You think it's working but it's not. It's not seamless, it's not cooperative, it's a mess of assumptions and chance and people take for granted that it has worked so far, but it hasn't, has it? There's food, sure, for however long that lasts. What about when harvest isn't so lucky. What about the next time someone dies? What about the next time a creature slams through the livestock. What happens when this loose network of 'it kind of works' stops working?" He doesn't even know if anyone is listening at this point, but he knows they should be.

Someone should be.

She's pinching the bridge of her nose, too tired for this given that her headache is also making things worse. "Then create a semblance of knowledge transfer," she says. "You're implying that you can predict what's going to happen next and I don't trust that this place won't do something to remind us that we have no control, no matter what we think. There are crops, there are hunters, there are fisherman who are teaching other people," she argues calmly. "You ask me for suggestions, but I've yet to hear an actionable plan from you, either. What good is a council of people and experts who can't predict what's going to be thrown at us? I hate that we're reactionary," she assures him, disgusted with what she's had to do, "but I think we've been as proactive as we can be."

"How could your solution have prevented the livestock issue? Karen's death?" she challenges. "We investigated, we did our best, and we learned. Together." Shaking her head, she gives him a lost look. "I want us to survive long enough that we can escape, but I'm not blind to the situation we're in."

"If we need a main hub of information, then that's the actionable move forward. We appoint a historian," she says. "If knowledge is the key goal, then work to that. Pretending we can understand how this place operates is not something I think anyone has the power to possess. You might disagree." She gestures to the small group around her. "To keep you apprised, I'm now going back out there to look for my friends, whom I believe are gone, but I still am holding out hope that they're missing. I'm sure that you'll let me know whatever conclusion you reach, after."

"I don't know if your problem is with the idea of a council to help keep people here calm, organized and more cohesively understanding what's happening, or if your problem is with where the suggestion is coming from. With better organization it's entirely possible something could have been done to solve the issue with the livestock sooner and a death avoided. But no, I'm not asking for people who can predict what's going to happen." His eyes drift to Kira for a moment before returning to Peggy, his eyes not narrowed and his face forced into a calm mask despite the snarl underneath that bleeds just slightly into his voice.

"You did your best, your best came up short. We need to do better. We need to have a clear line of information and a clear line of direction. We need everyone on the same page, and that isn't what's happening here. No one has to agree on everything. I'm not asking people to hold hands and I'm not looking for an overnight solution. I'm looking for ideas to help fix the obvious holes lacking in the supposed structure in place here. A common ground and common set of minds that anyone can be directed to when there is a problem, and who can direct when a problem needs to be solved." He gives a bitter laugh with his words and a shrug. "I didn't realize wanting a bit of reason and logic to this chaos would be a problem, nor did I come here with the intent to tell anyone what I have decided, or did you miss the part where I asked for a conversation to discuss it among everyone?"

He waves a hand off and turns his back. If she wants to leave, fine, but he's not letting her arguments slide without counter.

"But do go ahead and avoid the problem by turning your back on it. I am sure that solves many problems where you're from, and finding missing people is certainly not something a properly organized council could help accomplish."

So she had come without full intent to have a discussion, so she had objections and not suggestions--Kira's frustration muted at her explanation. His desire for understanding came with its own willingness to try to understand in turn, and what could he understand more than loss?

"Maybe this isn't the time," he says, trying to reach both of them, though he wonders if he is now speaking to a pair of deaf ears, their horns locked--and he does look at Ren's back when he says it. "I think if we had a council, they wouldn't bait people into cooperation when they're upset over something so important."

Though he's sure he's made no personal ground with her, he'd hate for the woman to storm off in distress. Who knew what could be waiting for them to clash, separate, and scatter into the trees. "Ma'am, if you'd like help in the search, I can't predict the future, but I have...helped find things in the past. I know it might seem stupid or useless, but," he pulls the deck from his coat pocket, remembering how it had found the box Ren had been seeking. "Reading cards is one of my skills. If it would give you any peace of mind, I'd try to help.

"And if it wouldn't, I won't keep you here any longer."

Cassian was near a wall, listening intently… (vigilantly, maybe), fighting his own wariness and working hard to listen rather than interpret… absolutely everything said by anyone. Not all governments are empires. Not all leadership is power play. Even Rebellions have infrastructure—if they want to gain traction. But there's always someone to take power from, if only one another… No. Listen. Just listen.

And it was fascinating. Excellent to hear the statements and thought processes of his fellow… cellmates? in whatever sense. The debate betwen Kira, Peggy and Ren particularly so. Cassian was tempted to join in but agreed with Kira about not impeding Peggy… it was difficult to navigate two important directives. Neither should eradicate the other.

Which, ha, was all a microcosm of what they were talking about: the community and the conversation. The through-line as far as Cassian perceived it—indeed stated outright by Ren, Peggy, and Kira in turns. Centralized distribution of accurate information was a prerequisite to command or judgment, if not an end in itself. But while such things died if not made actionable, they could be implemented in stages. One thing at a time.

He watched to see what they did next, and to see if he'd have any services to offer this current implementation. (This talk of "prediction", in seemingly a more literal sense than tactical anticipation, was a bit beyond him. More to learn.) If he didn't, he might have something to offer re: the other, and would find Peggy later to discuss it. (Of course they'd recognized one another when they first met. But he realized now it was beyond both having been in service; it was having been in intelligence.) And separately, if humanly possibly, learn more about whatever Kira was describing.

Peggy's problem remains that she wants to see something actionable put in place rather than talk that seems to have no solution to the outliers like the people who won't join in on the meetings or the fact that she still doesn't think that Karen's death could have been avoided, nor the loss of the cryptid's body. She softens at Kira's offer, giving him a tired smile.

"I know what those cards are going to say," she says, her voice quiet and even despite how many times each syllable nearly cracks. There's pain in her eyes and she already knows how this ends. "I need my denial just a little longer, just for a moment more." She gives him a nod, and Ren a last, firm look. "Good luck."

"And to you," he answers, knowing his own denial comes and goes in waves--less denial and more, the times he allows himself not to think about it. The times he lets himself thing that the urgency to go home is still for the sake of a life needing saved, and not for dealing with the consequences.

Shuffling the deck once out of habit, he puts the back into his pocket; Cassian's presence, his attention, he takes in with a downward pull at the corner of his mouth: not having given the man his name, he hardly wanted to give him any knowledge of the deck or its purpose. But that was the price for their public pool of resources, and he could hardly stand around asking for some directory of skills if he meant to keep his own secret.

At least she hadn't thrown the offer back in his face, disbelieving and hurt by his lack of tangible assets.

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Let the blind lead the blind

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