[open] what mystery pervades a well; the water lives so far

[isorropia]

CHARACTERS: Rhan, Lyr, & YOU
WHERE: The Red Coast
WHEN: DAY: 029-:034
SUMMARY: Puttering around for fun and profit. Wild cards are okay!
WARNINGS: N/A, will add if necessary

LYR. THE ORCHARD

[The twisting fruit trees lay in perfect, ordered lines. They stretch out in the shadow of Tyrisson House and crawl quietly up the hillside. It's quiet here; the yellowed fruit on the knobby branches must not yet be ripe and the weather must be kind enough to simply let the trees grow. Come noon, the skeleton crew of grounds keepers and field hands have largely quit the place, leaving the orchards empty. Or close enough to it.

It makes for a good place to take a walk anyway. A fact that Lyr is currently taking full advantage of. He cuts a path first up between two straight lines of lumpy trees and then down the next, crisscrossing the orchard in exacting lines.]

RHAN. ABSOLUTELY GODDAMN EVERYWHERE

[Considering the amount of time Rhan's kept largely to herself in the Graze, it should be hard to pin her down here on the Red Coast where there's so many nooks and crannies to get lost in. But it seems the opposite is true: that cloaked figure at the pub's corner table? Rhan. That Carbauschian wandering the coast and cliffs? Rhan. Trying to get in some alone time? She's almost guaranteed to show up at your elbow.]

Well, fancy seeing you here.

LYR & RHAN. CARBAUSCHIAN QUARTERS (DAY :033)

[It's late in the afternoon and you've made a mistake. Meaning: you've arrived just in time to catch Rhan and Lyr in the middle of a debate. Lyr has taken up post in one of the heavy built in bunks and Rhan is walking circles in the center of the space. Clearly most of the other Hosts have not yet returned from whatever misadventures they're having, or (more likely), the two elder hosts' dialogue has driven off any unwilling participants.

Not that you're so lucky. Before the newcomer can so much as shed an article of their heavy Carbauschian disguise, Rhan calls out:]

Oh! Just in time. Come help me tell Lyr he's being ridiculous.

Comments

[isorropia]

Some of us don't spend all our time organizing clandestine meetings. [The clothes they're forced to wear is clearly cramping Lyr's style when it comes to arch sidelong glances, but whatever. Go with it.] Is that why you're here? Forgive me, I didn't take you as the plotting type though I can admit it when I'm wrong.

[It doesn't sound like he thinks he is, though maybe that's just habitual. After all, he is so very rarely incorrect.]

[incinerates]

[ Oh. He likes the cut of your jib, Lyr. Ironi...cally. ]

Fat chance. I just got told off by like, the entire team. "Oh, be subtle." "Hey, don't make waves."

[ Eavesdropping and clandestine orchard-meetings are all he's got to go on, right now. ]

This isn't how I want to do things, but I hate just sitting around.

[isorropia]

Mm, I see. [From a long way off, apparently.] And if it were your choice, how would you go about things?

[He's linked his hands behind him, small fingers hooked together in a fashion that's clearly habitual as they continue their slow progression down the orchard's wide furrow. Hope you like jogging in practically in place, kid, because he's certainly not lengthening his stride to accommodate keeping that heart rate of yours up.]

closes this one out fast too yikes

[incinerates]

I don't care about how much stronger we are with everyone here -- the kids shouldn't be involved in something this dangerous.

[ There's a quality to his tone that suggests he's not convinced by the "welcome to war" argument that's been brought to him by a number of the nest. He's not war-minded, though he does seem to be "warheaded" ( ha ). They don't need to be "exposed" or "given experience", not when people have died and more may do so.

And he's fine with jogging in place, because guess what HE'S YOUNG AND ENERGETIC. ]

That's all I can think of, right now. Can we send them home, on another shuttle?

[isorropia]

[Cue one very pointed look - which would work better if he wasn't covered head to toe, but surely the sentiment must be there in the fixed shape of his mind.]

Who would be on that list to send back exactly?

[Because from the sound of it, the boy's not including himself on it which seems to considerably narrow the field of rejects.]

[incinerates]

Like hell if I remember [ know ] their names. The kids!

[ He can feel a few of them, throughout the nest. Young presences, a little more vibrant the the adults, a little more malleable, maybe. They have more to prove, they're more eager to get themselves involved. Hell no, he doesn't include himself on that list. He's the most capable one here!

His voice, despite the sharpness, is low and his words are private: ]

Everyone else can choose whether they want to stay or go, but involving kids in a situation where someone has already died isn't morally right. A lot of callous assholes here have established that they fully view this as war, [ his tone mocks them -- heedless of how it makes him sound: ] which means including kids is a crime.

[isorropia]

I see.

[It doesn't sound like he's convinced. But here, lets pretend for a moment he is. He can talk speculative reality with the best of them:]

If they were to prefer to stay in a dangerous situation like this one, would it be morally correct to subject them to a life of isolation on the Station instead? Perhaps then the only responsible thing to do is pose the question? But if a brood is split, the remaining half is weakened considerably by their lack. If this is a 'war' [he sounds unconvinced], is it correct to allow a contingent of our willing foot soldiers to be so vulnerable for the sake of a minority's comfort?

[Et cetera, et cetera. A pause in which Lyr seems to brush his own questions aside - as if they were for his benefit alone.]

Tell me something, do you believe in coincidence?

[incinerates]

[ Lyr offers him questions. Ones that, given the chance and a lack of cloth covering his face, Bakugo would spit on. "Comfort". "Foot soldiers"! He has a lot of answers, but none as direct and objective as the one he gives. ]

I'll kick your fucking ass across the length of this orchard and back, if you ever refer to children as soldiers again. If what it takes for us to be considered "strong" is to stand on the backs of those who should be looking up to us and trusting in us to keep them safe -- there's something deeply wrong with these symbiotes and what they're doing to us.

[ Deadpan: ]

And no, I don't. I can't believe in something like that. Why.

[isorropia]

No need to concern yourself. I meant it rhetorically. [Footsoldiers is such a poor descriptor for so many of them, regardless of age. Of the Hosts he's known prior to his mission, Lyr can say that only Siva'co might be called such with any accuracy. --But that's neither here nor there.

Lyr refocuses, brushing aside the matter of naming things for the time being. Surely that's a more refined topic of conversation, one which must follow a most broad categorization and basis of understanding:]

Indeed. Then if there is no such thing as coincidence- and here, we agree entirely it seems -, surely there must be a purpose to the selection of young Hosts. If we don't believe in happenstance, whether that selection is an intelligent decision by the symbiote or simply something it does by instinct is irrelevant; we must all of us be here for a reason.

As to whether that reason is ethical as we understand it - now, there's where real conversation could be had. But not with me, I'm afraid. At this point, I believe all of us have been told what to do and where to be more than any of us cares for and I much prefer the idea of asking people what they prefer given the opportunity.

[He hums, touching his hand to his right eye and rubbing it absently. Maybe some glint of sun through the trees or a mote of dust found it.]

The question could certainly be posed whether anyone would prefer to go back - so long as they know it would put those that chose to remain behind in more danger, I see no problem with it.

[incinerates]

Young minds are malleable; they're in the middle of development, and open to influence. It's a biologically supported fact, on my world. It's a reasonable assumption to make, for any species in need of a host to survive, with its own intrinsic needs. So, yeah. Imperative or intelligence -- kids are an easy pick.

[ Why wouldn't a symbiotic creature select minds in the middle of their development? It would be allowed the time to mold said mind, and the space to influence it with the least resistance. He's loud, brash -- and far from stupid. The symbiotic presence linking them makes them stronger ( he never needed that, thanks ), but threatens their individuality. A thing most sentient species he knows of crave and protect. ]

As far as I know, we're the higher intelligence here. That means the responsibility is ours, and we should protect the lives of kids. Whether they choose freely or not, they're the vulnerable lives here.

[ That's what he believes. That's what he's been raised to know. He may be a child among them, defiant as he is of that honest fact. ]

There will always be a problem with it. Asking them is fair enough. I can accept that, but saying it's not a problem is dangerous -- the influence of a symbiotic lifeform that needs its own kin around to be stronger will always be a reigning influence. You can understand that, right? You were a "someone" before you were a part of this "whole", right?