sixthiterationlogs | keep that fury deep inside you: primitive weapons plot

WHO: Kira Nerys
WHERE: the Inn
WHEN: Saturday,
OPEN TO: All (August Plot, part 2)
WARNINGS: none at present
STATUS: Open

When Nerys heard about the boxes that Jo and Killian Jones had found, she was surprised. When she heard what was in them, that they were all marked with intent, the surprise lessened, and now was turning into sinking overwhelming tunnel vision in her head, her gut. The physical sensation of knowing, knowing that someone had plans for you, and those plans were likely ugly--oh yes, she knows it. Just because it's familiar, though, doesn't make it something she enjoys by any stretch of the imagination.

No, it's the kind of feeling that Nerys had learned at a very young age to transmute into anger. The kind of anger that fed her family, then the kind of anger that blew up Cardassian weapons depots, then the kind of anger that kept her focused on her job and kept her people safe.

She knows that if she's feeling this way, things are just as bad or worse for others. While she hasn't been entirely candid with everyone about her past, though she certainly hasn't lied, she's pretty sure she's seen complexity (let's be frank, darkness) in some of the people she's met, and like fuck did they need a full-scale civil war on their hands here.

It's a good way for them all, in the not-so-long run, to die.

Clearly, they all needed to have a gods damned talk before this boiled over, and as Nerys sees no one else volunteering, she steps up, roaming through the village like an old-fashioned crier. "Hey," she shouts at the people in the field, around the town, using the rather powerful pipes the Prophets had seen fit to give her. "Hey. Meeting at the Inn, fifteen minutes. We need to talk."

She gets to the inn in a few minutes' time, then clambers up onto one of the tables in front of Jo's lists, and sits, cross-legged, to wait. Folks filter in, a few at a time, and Nerys taps her jaw with her fingertips, counting out the seconds (she'd like a chronometer, but that'd be like asking for latinum dust). Once enough time's passed, she clears her throat. It doesn't really do much, so she rolls her eyes, then turns up the volume a little--not aggressive, but enough to catch people's attention. She's accustomed to walking the fine line between too much and too little leadership, because unlike her Starfleet colleagues, she doesn't expect the hierarchy of rank and linked formality of sometimes-grudging respect. Makes it easier to actually talk to people.

"Hey. My name's Nerys, for those of you who I haven't met properly yet. You've probably heard what was found out in the forest," she starts. "I figure we should all sit down and discuss it, because the last thing that's going to be any good for anyone is us starting to distrust each other and get into fights. So...let's hash it out, right?"

If she has to scream the 'this is what they fucking want, they want us to hurt each other, fuck them' message into people's heads, she's willing to do that. Eventually. Hopefully someone else will agree.

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"My brother's a git." He hasn't spoken about his family since arriving here, the fact that the only one who knows a word of it is a man who can only just begin to speak to the majority of people here seems oddly fitting somehow. Language barriers kept secrets well enough, didn't they? "I have a lot of them. Siblings. Some born, some chosen, but they're all family." Like Caroline and Jesse.

The apology about what he lost drops his eyes to the ground again and he nods, lips pressed together, "Yeah, yeah it is." Crowley and Anna were on par with the feeling of loss with his family at this point. Higher and more important in certain ways he can't quite put words to.

"Why punish yourself?" The question is sharp, but genuine, he truly doesn't understand the point of it. "You did what you had to, right? Shouldn't be shame in that." He smirks wryly at the comment about him having not stopped fighting. He shakes his head, "Nah. Don't think I ever will, s'long as I've a say in it." Which was the truth. He was a fighter, it's all he'd done for so long, it was hard to imagine being anything else. He'd almost had it, seen that something else was possible, back in Lawrence. Then this place happened and he's right back where he'd always been.

Kol's gaze follows to the place Thorfinn is pointing and he nods, "Yeah, we can see what I remember." Hey, it'd been awhile. So, hey. Maybe his skills weren't so hot these days, who even knew.

He got a chuckle out of the younger man when he called his brother a git. Thorfinn nodded as he listened. "My birth nearly killed my mother," He admitted as he draped both arms over his bent knees now, watching the blacksmith as he spoke. "She never recovered, she was so often in bed people thought she would pass any day, my father was murdered when I was six... so no more siblings for me." He didn't tell many about his family, but there was a dark edge when he mentioned his fathers murder, like he had to shove his emotions down as soon as he said it. Not in a duel, or raiding, those wouldn't be called murder. "I have a friends I consider family, Jo, Leif and Einar. They are as much family as if they were my own blood."

Thorfinn took a breath, how did he explain that. "I killed a lot of people, Kol. Not even those I was angry at, or even knew, just everyone who got in my way. I've done terrible things." He looked guilty as he lowered his head so Kol couldn't see his termoil. He hated talking about himself, admitting what he is. But, Kol was a norsemen, Kol would understand he figures. The things he hated about himself were the things that made him a living legend back home. The boy warrior. "I don't aim to punish myself, it just started after my fall. I don't think warriors can feel this way..." He didn't want to admit he had been a Thrall. There was such prejudice against them in his time, even if he had bought his freedom back he didn't know if it was something he was ready to admit yet.

He reached up, pushing some of his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear but not looking up. "I bet we could find some bog iron."

Kol can't even fathom being an only child, there were three others ahead of him and another two behind him, he was smack in the middle of the whole lot of them. But adopting friends on as family, that's understandable to him. Now, at least. He couldn't have said the same a year or better ago, because he'd never even had friends. Not real ones, not ones he didn't compel for himself or threaten into submission, not ones that stayed of their own volition. The mentions of his parents don't do much for Kol in terms of sympathy because his own comparison is, well, his parents deserve their end to come, really. "I can't picture being the only one." He admits with a slight shake of his head. "Your parents, they were good people?" He's not trying to press, and if Thorfinn doesn't want to talk about it, he'd drop it then and there, they don't know each other all that well, afterall, so it really wouldn't be a surprise. "They mean a lot, don't they? The ones you pick, or that pick you." But especially the ones that chose him.

The thing is, Kol just can't fathom that kind of guilt. He's done exactly the things Thorfinn is describing and he doesn't feel it at all. It was just the way things played out, the hand he was dealt, the role he was forced into. But he remembers the ideals from his human days, and he can understand on a certain level. "Maybe not..."

He nods a bit, "We'll look around and see what we can find."

Thorfinn realized when Kol said only one where he had made his nistakr. "No no, Kol I am their second child. My sister Ylfa is older than me by nine years. I was the last child they had. But, I did spend most of my early years as the only child around. I did not spend my life with my parents, but yes, I would say their good people. At least they tried to be." Thorfinn nodded looking o Kol then. "they mean the world and more to me. I would die for them."

He nodded to both Kols response about the guilt and the iron.

He nods a bit at the explanation, "I have four brothers and a sister." There's a slight pause, and a flicker of hurt runs across his face quick enough it could have been missed with a well-placed blink. He'd had Henrik back again in Lawrence, by all defiances of logic and even the supernatural, and he's realizing in being here that it's just like losing him that first time all over again.

"My parents were never good people." he admits with a slight shake of his head. "My siblings and I were all better off when they met their ends." Not that they stayed that way, because of course they didn't.

Thorfinn had been well trained in people and their ways. Even when he doesn't show the skills a lot. He noticed that. Something had happened to Kol's family. It seemed all Norsemen were cursed to lose their families. Maybe that was why having a child was so important.

He tipped his head some, looking at Kol with a curious gaze but dared not ask. Not yet. "Maybe we will get home soon?"

keep that fury deep inside you: primitive weapons plot

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