Kylo Ren (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
andrend) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2017-02-01 11:26 pm
andrend) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-02-01 11:26 pm
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.]
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.]
no subject
But someone's trying to catch his eye. He spots it as he turns for the door, not that Cassian's being insanely subtle about it, but sure - he's got nothing to lose here. He's already trapped somewhere, after all, and as far as he can tell no one's running around trying to murder anyone else. It'll be fine. He says a quick goodbye to Sam before stepping out of the flow of traffic and making his way over to Cassian, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat and waiting to hear what he has to say.
no subject
Despite his injuries making him less innocuous than ideal, Cassian's voice and posture were perfectly calibrated to their surroundings—ambient noise level, sightlines of others, prevailing mood—to be so unassuming, so (apparently naturally) hard to hear and casual to see, ears and eyes would simply slide off. Someone who could fabricate privacy without seeming to, mainly with attitude, knowing what behaviors caught attention and not doing any of them.
To another expert, the camouflage technique might be recognizable.
Indeed, Cassian seemed to be watching Clint to see if…
…well, even spies didn't really have a pandimensional handshake. But there were only so many variations on that degree of spacial awareness and playing human cognitive limitations.
no subject
"Could be helpful. What were you thinking of? And where, when, and who?" He was willing to listen, though he wouldn't promise to join in whatever he was thinking of. "They're already starting to make a list of jobs and people who can do them, so if you've got any skills to help out, you should go stick your name on the relevant parts."
(sorry for slowturtling! can handwave rest if you prefer!)
we can keep going, I'm okay with that
Cool!
ahahaha
"There's not enough people here to really have something horrible pop up if we don't agree on stuff," he began, watching for any reaction. Clint was well aware enough that violence could break out even among small groups, though it couldn't escalate to "war," but so far the worst he'd seen happen in this place was some yelling. It... well, it kind of made a nice change. "And that'd depend on what you're good at. If you can shoot decently there's some bows in the inn, not a lot of arrows though, or you can try and map the place and see if you get any farther than anyone else has."
no subject
(If, in spite of himself, feeling a twinge of curiosity at what kind of "bow" that might be. He was familiar with the concept via the quasilegendary Wookiee bowcasters, though presumably it would be something more low-tech than anything he'd seen wielded, much less wielded himself. As scavenged and self-made as many fringe insurgency weapons had been.
"Shoot" though is a giveaway.)
Clint was again ascribing more specific intent than Cassian actually had… but that made sense when thinking/speaking of strategists. "I did make my own map," said Cassian in a tone of actually, yes! agreement. "I destroyed the original—" making sure not to automatically flex his bandaged hand "—but I could recreate it. It was an exercise in seeing if I could see anything new, without necessarily succeeding. But I took possibly more detailed notes than I've seen on other maps. Whether or not they hold for long here."
no subject
He couldn't help it, he was trained to think of specifics, and keeping people alive in this place came first but getting out of it came second. He hadn't been able to get out too much himself yet because of being a fairly recent arrival and being chucked into the supply-acquisition side of things more than scouting, but other people seemed to be better at looking than finding, so it was best to play to strengths. "They probably won't, but they can't hurt. Even if they don't hold true, that's still more info than we had, and it could be true again in the future. It'd be best to add them to the notes inside, maybe compare them with what's in there. Maybe you'll get lucky and find a pattern."
No one else had so far, except for "whatever's doing this to us is a fucking asshole." But knowledge was power, and they didn't have nearly enough of that yet.