sixthiterationlogs | Let the blind lead the blind

Entry tags:

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.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Ren actually didn't want to monopolize the meeting he had started. He was far more interested in observing the result, and the decisions or views of his fellow captives. If he was going to be trapped in this prison for a time, he was determined to at least try to set things in motion to make sure there were plans and minds available for the problems that cropped up while he searched for a way out.

The metal curtain rod was being used as a grounding distraction, rather than the weapon he trained with it as. He kept both hands on the cool metal, and dug the base of it into the ground while he watched the reaction and response to his words.

He was more than willing to discuss further, one on one or as a whole, and he kept his attention active and focused. He was doing his best to keep the discourse from slipping into negative territory.

Being one of the people feeding the others, and making his best effort to clean up without wetting or tearing his injured hand, Kira is one of the last people to filter out into the crowd. He slips toward the fore, following the familiar sound of Ren's voice.

He isn't entirely surprised to hear what he has to say, though he understands it's importance might be why Ren so mildly, for him, addresses such a large group at once. This isn't the kind of seed to plant one person at a time. That kind of campaign would be suited to gaining an actual seat on said council.

It isn't a bad idea, especially given all the new arrivals: he'd gotten conflicting or incomplete information when he arrived, not least of which was: who do I approach for what.

"Maybe we could determine it by groups of skill or knowledge? And they could choose representatives, so the needs of those groups could be evenly met? Like the doctors, and the hunters or foragers, and the people keeping up the inn?"

He looks around at the group, for suggestions of other breakdowns, and to see if anyone is entertaining his or Ren's ideas at all.

These sorts of meetings were familiar to her and she found the topic of this meeting more interesting than the last. She had already guessed that there wasn't a form of leader ship, it was something she was able to deduce from the last meeting, but a council was very similar to the way her island was set up though her father had been at the helm for all final decisions. Everyone had a say and everyone was heard. It might not be the same here and for all she knew the same system might work here too.

The more she listened the more confident she grew. She didn't know if anyone would agree with her but she was stubborn and very loud when she needed to be.

"I think there should be a council but they should listen to everyone here and not just make decisions on their own." She paused and sorted through her thoughts. "Not everyone might like it here but for now this is where we live. We should take care of this place as well as each other." Moana had high hopes for the spring and summer.

"The council should be those who want to protect everyone who is brought here." She paused again but only briefly this time. "More than just one person and from many different worlds. We all have something to share and experiences that make us wise. We can all learn from each other and we'll be strongest together."

If her father was here, he might have been proud of her.

She'd come here when she'd heard the topic, not immediately because she felt an intense need to be here and contribute, but because she's been looking for Steve for days now and she knows that there is absolutely no way that he would miss such a meeting. He would be here, positioned and ready to offer himself up in whatever way he needs to be. When Peggy searches the small crowd and finds that he's not there, she feels disappointment sinking into her belly because she has a very bad idea that she knows what that means, even if she's still in denial about it.

So instead of focusing on that terrible reality lurking just outside her mind, she turns her attention to what Ren is saying, a critical slant in her expression. It's not that she disagrees, but Peggy's been unfortunately privy to men standing up and giving speeches very much like this, taking the credit for themselves and refusing to listen to their equals, simply because they don't acknowledge the worth of a woman or someone like Daniel, who had been injured being braver than most of them. She raises her brow, waiting for the inevitable - volunteering himself for this brave, humbling, honest task, but that never comes.

Arms crossed, she stands at attention and wonders what sort of situation she's found herself in, again, that it's come to a matter of jockeying for position to try and lead a community. Council, too, is a dirty word, reminding her too much of Whitney Frost's cabal of minions. "And how should we judge our peers?" she asks, not to anyone in particular. "Who knows their hearts best that we know who should lead us?"

She's seen far too many bad things happen when you give the wrong people power and Peggy absolutely does not trust near enough people here to be ready to follow commands blindly.

He remembers Peggy from the last meeting, offering up supplies and agreeing that knowledge should be shared: to hear her oppose organization and leadership is interesting, and were he closer or not already exhausted from the wash of people throughout mealtimes, Kira might try to feel out a better understanding of why.

But he knows how to use his words, too. He doesn't have her poise, her posture--the way he slumps, they come off about the same diminutive height. He doesn't even have the strength of voice to match, but he raises it anyway, speaking across the space between them: "He did say it shouldn't be any one person."

Finding attention turned to him, he ticks his spine one bit straighter and stuffs his hands in his pockets, pushing against them to help keep it there with the pull of his woolen coat. "It's just a call for organization, isn't it? Someone to know when to call meetings, people to have information we need at those meetings? And when there isn't time to gather everyone to hash out a decision. If you're worried about it all, you could just...be on it?"

She's startled by the suggestion, mainly because in the furthest reaches of what she'd expected of lingering here, having that sort of role suggested to her is a surprise. She's so used to men willfully working to take that sort of control away from her that words escape her for a moment, making her look quite the idiot. She ignores that idea, having worked under people she's trusted until she didn't trust them anymore, going her own way, doing what was right and not just what was requested.

"Does that require a formal committee?" she asks as she deliberately avoids the word 'Council', not thinking of those men and what happened to them. She doesn't mean to argue, but to genuinely ask. "If the decision still rests in the majority's hands, then all we're essentially suggesting is a summoning sound to bring everyone together," she notes, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm from her words.

Even for Kira, the time for sarcasm feels rather passed. Maybe it was being injured, albeit in no life-threatening way, by the last thing the canyon threw at them--but he'd been frightened. He spends a great deal of time, frightened, not knowing what to do.

He can't rely on foresight any more. He has to rely on people.

"Did you come here with suggestions, or just to object when others were made," he asks plainly. "People will decide things in smaller groups already. They might even decide them in small groups with opposing values, and no meeting anyone's called has had every person showing up. I for one would like to know the names and faces I can count on to take care of bigger things while I focus on feeding everyone, or who to talk to if I don't like the shit being decided without me."

He certainly can't focus on his existing tasks and make it to every decision about every aspect of life here: he's exhausted half the time from being around people who are just trying to eat, much less the emotions flying around a debate. It's only his relationship to Ren and the importance of the subject that have him enduring this one, instead of retreating upstairs to recharge.

Sam was around the inn with most meals, being one of the people who could actually cook around here. Well, and he enjoyed cooking. It gave him a steady purpose. And he was honestly surprised when Ren had spoken up as he had. Sam had listened as he ate, having spent most of meal time serving others, he'd only just now fixed a plate for himself. Ren had some good points actually, and honestly Sam was surprised it had been put forward so eloquently. The other thing that surprised him was that the idea hadn't really been articulated or tossed around like this before now. They'd all just sort of started working together and hadn't thought too much about leadership or command. Most people probably defferred to Miss Kate or Jo or maybe even Mark -- when it had been planting/harvest time -- among a few others. But that was rather limited and especially with their increased numbers now.

He looked over to Kira, chiming in, "Not a bad suggestion. Some of us have naturally drifted to certain areas -- so it'd probably be easier to coordinate if we had one person in charge of each section and keeping track of how many people they had to help."

There's no good way to tell the time aside from sunrise, an approximation of noon, and sunset, but Kira thinks it's somewhere between the latter when he climbs the stairs of the inn and drags himself to his room at the end.

An hour, two? He isn't sure how many he put into the meeting, but after the meal, after hours of crowds, hours of everyone's fears and hopes and disagreements crawling over his skin--he wasn't sure he could stay upright, much less contribute anything meaningful. He'd found Ren and touched him lightly on the arm, thanking him for starting the discussion and wishing him the best, and hoped the man didn't hold too much disdain for the wan state of him as he slipped back inside.

He knew he was useless, for things like this. He knew he didn't have the stamina, or the schooling, or whatever some people wanted in someone to listen to. But he'd done his best, and he trusted a few of the people still there to not just let the subject go down in flames.

When he reaches the room, the window is open, and there's enough in him to think not to close it. The voices carry up and he can distantly follow some of the stronger ones, but he gives up trying: flops on the bed and rests an arm over his eyes, succumbing to a familiar headache behind them.

After the meeting ended, Ren felt the tension coiling and tightening through him in a building pressure. It took considerable effort to keep his tone and his responses controlled and softened, directed at following Veronica's advice about trying a 'kinder' approach, though he no longer remembered the exact words she had used. Certainly their conversations had often turned to yelling or anger, but he knew she was intelligent, and that she often had a point, whether he agreed with her or not.

He sought Sansa out for training when the meeting had split and naturally dissipated. He didn't want to think it over more for a time. It was time to shift gears back to the young woman who had put the idea of a council into his mind in the first place.

"Are you ready?" He asked, when he found her, the metal staff held slanted at his side, as he gestured to the path back toward the mill.

Regardless of where you're from, it's human nature to attempt to create order out of chaos. From that perspective, I can certainly understand the inclination toward further organization. I myself touted the need for it recently enough, when we all met following the discovery of the second pod. There is so much about being here that is beyond our control, and it makes sense to try and create some sort of order, even if it ends up being little more than rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

Yet, there's a reason this isn't something I've suggested before.

"I think we could all probably benefit from better organization in the areas we've been neglecting for one reason or another," I slowly begin, considering my words carefully before I speak them. "But I don't think we're lacking in it entirely. While I appreciate the idea of a council, I'm not convinced that bureaucracy is really the answer to either our continued survival or solving the mystery of this place. I know our meetings aren't exactly formal, but we're a small enough group that gathering together like this to talk about issues and decide how to address them has worked. We've never lacked for volunteers for anything, whether it be providing meat for our tables, or sowing the fields, or hunting down that creature that attacked Karen. I don't know, maybe the people watching us are waiting to see if we do something like this, if we appoint leaders, but I guess my point is that we don't have to be political to be better organized."

I rock back on my heels, hands in my pockets. "Personally, I think something more along the lines of as-needed committees would be a better answer than a formal council, with volunteering open to anyone interested in helping." This is essentially what we're doing already, but for some people, it helps to have things written down.

Kira wonders if Mark is trying to avoid something on a personal level, considering his breadth of knowledge and value to the village. It would be easy to see, if some manner of nomination and election were held, his name winding up on the list.

But he doubts it, in terms of volunteering, Mark puts in several people's shares. "I don't think any of us have the time or stomach for politics, when we're worried about getting enough food," he agrees.

"I think it should just build on what we were discussing last time--pooling knowledge, but instead of talking about this place, we learn about each other. We're getting new people all the time now, sometimes in the same day, and no matter how many plates I've handed out I don't know what everyone is capable of or what they'd do in a crisis. I didn't know what to do when the earthquake hit, or how to find someone for my hand. I think if we knew who was in charge of what, and if those people knew they were in charge, it would help more people act to the best of their skill set in an emergency. And it would tell us who to direct new people at when they have questions we don't know the answers to.

"I mean," he shrugs, pulling his coat against the hands in his pockets, "if I'm just some asocial idiot who feels this way when no one else does, that's fine, I'll have a few more chats over soup night. But if I'm not, it can't hurt?"

"I am." Sansa replied, her gaze steady as she watched him approach. She held her own metal staff at her side, more like a walking stick at the moment than a weapon. Turning to follow him as he wandered past, she considered asking him how he thought the meeting went but she didn't. Maybe it was best to let them think for awhile before discussing it further. Plus he wanted to train and she wanted to show him how much work she had done.

True to her word, Sansa practiced nearly every day. If there was a day where her time was filled with other activities, she would take a little while in her room to move through some steps he had taught her. Then, more often than not, she would drop on her bed and fall asleep rather quickly due to exhaustion.

It was good, though. She was proud of herself and the things she had been learning lately. She was starting to feel useful and confident in her own abilities. So she smiled easily in Ren's direction as she quickened her step to reach his side. Akira was running alongside them.

"And train," he adds, wondering what would happen to some of the livestock and the kitchen itself if Kate were to disappear on them. "Everyone's coming in with different levels of knowledge," and he wouldn't call the man out, but it was in his mind, the fact that Casey could not read or write. "We don't want to put the most expert person in charge and then lose them."

Perhaps that should be taken into consideration as well, with the nature of the place: volunteers could be putting a target on their back, if they were truly being watched and forced back from progress. "It could even be a temporary position that rotates out, once things are organized, if we didn't need it anymore we'd look to something else."

"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."

Casey was on the roof, whittling a piece of wood into the form of a cat, sprawled on its back with its paws outstretched as if to catch dust in a ray of sunlight. He had been watching the meeting from the safety of a higher vantage, leery of being anywhere near such proceedings. He had seen camps go wrong far too many a time in attempts to change or develop a different form of organization of leadership, and it manifests as an uncomfortable dread slowly crawling up his spine, regardless of the tone of the meeting. He only half catches words when volumes are raised, but he knows he's better off not knowing.

The moment he sees Kira slip away, however, he thinks he can guess where his roommate is headed. He brushes wood dust and shavings off his knees and pockets the half-finished figurine and his tools before carefully lowering himself to drop into the room.

He closes the window, shutting the voices out, and moves over to the bed to lay down beside Kira without a word initially, resting his face behind his arms and staring at the headboard in silence, uncertain of whether Kira will ask him to stay or leave, and ready to do either.

The bed dips only so much, for its lack of quality and their combined weight; Casey brings some of the cold in with him, his clothes a bit damp, his skin as cold as Kira's for the wind, the smell of snow and pine on him. But they would warm up faster if they stayed where they were, side pressed to side, and the dread in Casey's gut is little disturbance compared to the meeting.

Trust us, he'd heard insisted more than once. From people he trusted and people he didn't. From people who wanted to be heard but not listen, and he doesn't know what it all amounts to. If he trusted them implicitly, he wouldn't have had anything to say.

Casey makes himself easy to trust. He seems to require it of himself, lest any wave he make lead to injury or abandonment. It reminds Kira of Credence, but isn't really the same. Isn't as severe, maybe. Like a pair of carvings in different states, the shape of a thing rendered in different levels of detail. "Did you enjoy the show," he asks, unmoving, just his free arm shifting to lay over his own waist and make room for the body beside his.

"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."

"Not really." His reply is soft and honest, his eyes drifting over toward Kira and his head turning to rest his cheek on his arm. He didn't trust people easily, or often. Trust was a dangerous road, but a necessity now and then. Kira, though. Kira he trusted enough not to have issue sleeping in his room without a weapon. He trusted a few people in the camp, more than he usually did, but he had been there longer than any other since his much much younger years. When he wasn't alone.

"It sounded like things got hot a time or two." It's a question and an observation in one, and he watches Kira in the isolation and relative quiet, before shifting enough to kick his shoes off. He's not going out to do chores in the atmosphere he had observed.

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Let the blind lead the blind

OTA for Ren

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Moana ~ OTA

OTA

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closed for casey; after kira leaves

A closed thread for Sansa

OTA

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