Spring has sprung and the heat has started to creep back into Southern, though thankfully it has yet to reach annoying proportions just yet. The sky is clear and blue, the air is warm and a light breeze cools the skin enough to make it a somewhat perfect morning. (Except for the mosquitos - those are merrily swarming in places near the edge of the pond - the little nuisances also apparently find it a perfect morning.) It's also in that weird part of the day where it's a bit too late in the morning to be considered lunch time, though late enough that breakfast seems an odd idea. Isadora, though, has decided to buck that trend and is strolling along the edge of the pond with a meatroll in hand, steely blue eyes glancing every so often out at the floating wreckage of the ship. She does have to stop every so often to curse under her breath and swat at a biting insect, though she's stubborn enough to keep on with her walk - she made this decision, darnit, and she's sticking with it. Her fluffy orange and white cat, Polly, is meandering along behind her and seems to be having fun stalking some of the buzzing mosquitos.

Good thing then that Luciana has no desire to get anywhere near that pond and so the mosquitos can just stay there and plague the already thrice damned ship. She has no idea what brought her here, either. She’d been present when the wreckage had been settled into place and it had disturbed her then and it disturbs her still. What’s also unexpected is spotting Isadora walking along and eating, as though there isn’t some sort of massive wreckage lurking in the background scenery. The cat is given a good long look too. Now where had she seen a cat like that before? “Bit odd of a place for a late breakfast stroll, isn’t it?” Her mouth quirks into a wry smirk, but there’s a strained sort of tension to her features regardless of her efforts to appear calm and nonchalant.

"Sometimes you act so smart … but then there are moments like these that I'm convinced that you're a fucking idiot." This is all said in a very deadpan voice as she scowls at the cat. Though she hasn't got much time to say anything further, as Luciana's voice draws her attention. Something familiar in that voice, too. There's even a brief flash of recognition as Isadora spots Luciana, though it's buried so quickly that it may be difficult to tell if it was imagined. "Sometimes one needs a bit of oddity in life - it adds a bit of interest to the morning," she retorts dryly, her voice coming out smooth but there's a tense set to her shoulders. Internal debate going on, most likely. "I guess I could ask the same to you? Though I suppose you were smart enough not to bring food to this stinking hole. Unlike me." She eyse her meatroll a moment and then takes a defiant bite - why not?

Luciana quirks a brow when she determines Isadora was talking to the cat and isn’t sure which is worse: that she was conversing with an animal or if it had been her talking to herself. Nagging familiarity continues to tug at her but she ignores it for now. “I suppose but this is a damn morbid spot to be doing it for the sack of oddity,” she mutters, flicking a hand towards the rotting shell of the Wandering Disgrace. Her nose wrinkles at the mention of food but she just grimly shakes her head. “Not sure what brought me here. I don’t particularly want to be and yet I got distracted and somehow wound up here regardless…” It’s a completely evasive question and she’ll give no further explanation, quiet as she stares a little more closely at Isadora. Finally: “… do I know you from somewhere?” Not much has changed about Luciana from her time aboard the Disgrace. The only noticeable thing would be her hair, which has now started to grow back out in messy waves about jawline in length. When she’d been a pirate, her hair had been long, past her shoulders.

Let it be known - spend too much time with animals, you invariably start to converse with them. Isadora seems to have fallen afoul of this, considering the fact she throws another sharp word at Polly, the cat, "Come here - get out of the sharding mud … oaf." She manages to distract herself from the disturbing familiarity that is Luciana by one-handedly scooping the muddy feline up and moving several feet away from the pond's edge to deposit the cat on drier ground. "Morbidness doesn't bother me," she confesses with a snort, "I find the wreck more smelly and ugly than morbid, really. It's not like it has any decaying corpses littered about it. It's a hunk of bloated, sharding wood." There's a harsh edge of emotion to that last statement and she shoots a quick scowl at said wreckage before neutralizing her expression. She pops the last of the meatroll in her mouth and brushes crumbs from her hands as she contemplates what to do about the mudball of a feline at her feet. Luciana's next question catches her offguard - perhaps she thought she had escaped recognition. She swallows her mouthful of food a little quickly and rasps out a quick, "No." Once her mouth is free of food, she clears her throat and adds more firmly, "No. I don't think so. I probably have one of those faces." She gives a flash of a smile, dimples transforming her expression for a brief moment. Those dimples are probably her most recognizeable feature, though it's not like she could hide them - she probably looks mostly like she did on the Wandering Disgrace, bar a bit healthier and in less scruffy clothing. "Why? Do I remind you of someone?" That tenseness is back, though her voice is smooth and cool - nothing to see here. While crouching down to her cat's level, she uses the motion to mask a quick glance around to check to be sure no one else is around.

“It might’ve HAD corpses in it, at one point,” Luciana points out with plenty of disgust in her voice. “I’m having a hard time understanding why anyone would want to step inside of it. Training purposes or not…” Which may explain a little more as to why she’s standing so far from it and doesn’t make an attempt to approach, not even while conversing with Isadora. She doesn’t miss that harsh edge and her focus remains on the girl. Sorry, Isadora, but the trick isn’t working. Luciana’s sensing something isn’t right, something is bothering her about this whole situation and that ever present nagging sense that she’s seen the girl before. “Yeah, you do remind me of someone.” Stopping there, she too will glance around but the nice thing about that wreckage? It tends to keep everyone away. They’re alone for the time being and for the sake of old habits, Luciana finally approaches so they can speak a little more freely between themselves in hushed tones. “You… Were part of the crew, with the rest of us, weren’t you?” Huge assumption, dangerous too and she’s quick to hold up her hands in a warding gesture. Wait. “I’m not gonna call you out. Not unless you give me good reason too.” Like Drex. Nor is it any secret, really, of who Luciana once was… or what she’d done.

Isadora obviously senses that the jig is up even before it actually is, judging by the increased tenseness in the set of her small shoulders. Though it's not like she had much of a choice from the moment Luciana arrived - running away would be suspicious, especially if the woman had recognized her before she ran. Now she has to face her choice of staying put in order to try to gauge the situation further. "So what if I was?" she shoots back, the tenseness in her voice breaking through finally now that she doesn't have to try to hide anymore. It was a quick burst of a statement, full of her stubbornness and with a very guarded expression to add to it. She has one hand on her muddied cat, Polly, as though trying to decide whether she might have to grab the cat and run. She does seem to relax a bit after Luciana's next statement, though there still lingers a wariness about her small form - like a stray cat that has been cornered, "I don't want anything to do with that shit anymore." She presses her lips into a thin line and adds, "Kidnapping kids, killing fire lizards. I never wanted anything to do with that kind of shit. I only wanted to be on a crew." She narrows her eyes at Luciana, "Do they know about you?"

Running would be a very, very bad idea. Running would only confirm that Isadora had reason to escape and hide and Luciana would be forced to chase her down. For now, there will only be a scowl from the woman for the attitude she receives; not wholly unexpected but she’s not about to just let it slide. “Easy, kid! If I’d thought you were a threat, we wouldn’t be talking and you’d have had your ass dragged to the brig by now.” Or worse but let’s not frighten the girl, yes? Luciana smirks but her expression twists to something between understanding and grim realization as Isadora confirms everything. “Picked the wrong crew, didn’t you? Looks like some of us made that mistake.” And paid for it. There’s a gruff scoff and a bit of a bitter-toned chuckle. “Oh, yeah. They know about me… and I guess you don’t know? Where’ve you been?” Difficult questions, but now is not the time for secrecy. She shrugs, “They’ve known about me before the Disgrace met its end. I work as an Assistant now… to the Senior Weyrwoman.” Because that’s what becoming a turncoat gets you, apparently! Aside from dead.

Isadora gives a half-amused snort, "Like I had much of a pick of the crews available. Women aren't in high demand, as you probably figured out." She slowly straightens up from her crouch, tenseness gone for now - she's obviously not going to run. "I'd heard rumors," she adds warily, "Hadn't any idea they were about you." She brushes a hand through her hair, pushing a stray blonde curl away from her forehead, "I spent the last weeks on the Disgrace sick with firehead, so I don't remember a whole lot." She reaches up to swipe at a passing mosquito irritably, "And as to where I've been … I've been keeping my sharding head down, is what I've been doing. Washing clothes. Chopping tubers. Watching rider's snotty, whining children in the nursery. Trying to be helpful and /not/ suspicious." She huffs a breath and, after another glance around to be sure no one else has wandered up on them, she adds in a low tone, "They found me passed out on the shore after the ship wrecked. I told them I was on a fishing boat that sank. I'd rather keep that story going." She does eye Luciana skeptically, "They let someone who was on the pirate crew help the Weyrwoman?"

“Figured that out long ago,” Luciana’s bitterness and frustration over that hasn’t diminished over the Turns and it shows even now. She’ll relax a little now too, that Isadora’s no longer looking like she’s about to bolt on her. There’s a grim nod to the rumours but she’ll make a disgruntled sound for the rest. “Got you too, huh? I fell ill with it not long after they brought Rylov aboard.” She’s careful to keep her voice lowered when discussing that detail. “Wounded from that fuck up of a plan too.” Another searching look is given to the girl, before she seems to accept it as the truth. “Drudge work, basically? Ahh… clever. Not going to blow your cover, kid. For one, you don’t scream dangerous pirate. Misguided, maybe but not a ruthless, dangerous, killer. Don’t give me a reason to think otherwise and I’ll keep your secret.” Until it no longer serves her to. The scepticism might have been expected too, so she just points to the knot pinned to her shoulder for emphasis. “Yeah. Took awhile. I was in the brig for a bit, with another.” She won’t name Zavyr or Drex. “I managed to convince them I wasn’t a threat and I’m not. Wanted no business with all that kidnapping. So I did what I could to stop it.” Which is as close as she’ll get to openly admitting her traitorous ways.

Isadora actually gives a grim sort of laugh, "Fuck up of a plan. What a sharding understatement." She gives a wry smirk, dimples flashing briefly into place, "I'm sure most of us were thinking that when the captain proposed it, though no one had the balls to speak up on the stupidity of it all." She gives a delicate snort of derision and waves irritably at a passing insect, "Fuck it. I'm trying to put it behind me." She gives a twitch of her shoulder in a shrug, the slight smirk returning, "Thanks for not blowing my cover. As mind-numbingly horrid as some of the chores are, I really haven't a clue where else to go for the moment." She rubs idly at the bridge of her nose, "I suppose I'll figure something out eventually. Or my hands will shrivel up from all the laundry duty." She eyes Luciana for a moment, "Glad you were able to do something to stop the kidnapping, at least. The kid's alright? I've been afraid to ask about him." Apparently her whole 'try not to act like a pirate' and 'don't be suspicious' game plan.

Luciana smirks, “Usually not a smart idea to oppose your Captain. That’s considered mutiny and that usually ends up with you dead. That’s why some of us kept our mouths shut. I decided to try to do something about it…” Which ended up failing, but it was enough, at least to start some level of trust. She frowns but her next statement is one of dry humour, “You’ve got a mouth on you, kid.” So much swearing! Not that she really cares. She’s the worst role model here, folks. “Yeah, well. If I didn’t get the chance I had… I’d probably be in your place too. Might’ve left, to be honest.” Find another ship, more likely. The temptation is there, if not well buried and something she can ignore now that she has other purposes. Relationships too. “If it works for you, stick with it for now. Build up that story and yourself around here. Why not ask about the stables? You seem keen with animals…?” Her questions about Rylov are met with a shake of her head, “Last I know he was recovering fine. I tend… not to ask too much about that, either. Don’t like to keep flaunting that I was involved. Most know me, anyhow.”

Isadora flashes another one of those dimpled grins of hers, all blonde curls and cuteness and such - doesn't she look oh so innocent? "And I'm fucking proud of it," she retorts, all happy smiles and amusement. Though she sobers a bit and adds, "I was on a pirate ship for a good while and I grew up at a sea hold with only brothers. Swearing like a sailor is a thing, you know. Not just for men." She pauses and then adds, "And judging by that upbringing, I don't think I had much of a chance at turning out without a dirty mouth." She considers this for a moment and then shrugs, obviously unconcerned. Polly is curled at her feet, asleep and purring, apparently oblivious to her muddy state. "Cats are one thing, runners are another," Isadora ventures, pausing to reach down and scratch the cat behind the ear, "Runners make a /lot/ of shit. I've had to help muck the stables a few times." She straightens up again and considers, "Might be something to ask to do more, I suppose. It's better than laundry … or the nursery." She shudders - ugh, snotty newborns and diapers. "Kind of feels like when the ship crashed, the ground got yanked from underneath me and I'm still trying to figure out where to go. I keep expecting to stumble onto something that strikes my fancy .. but … " She trails off and then seemingly has a thought, as she narrows her eyes in thought at Luciana, "What /do/ you do as an assistant to a Weyrwoman?"

Luciana’s not buying the act but she finds it amusing all the same and laughs, “You remind me of myself at your age…” Whatever age that might be. She snorts, “I know us ladies can cuss just as bad as they can. We’re just as dangerous too and we can work just as hard. Old arguments, those.” Some that she’s all too familiar with. Her frown is a thoughtful one, but she doesn’t pry further into Isadora’s past. There’s another chuckle about the runners, “Not overly fond of them myself, either but it’s decent enough work in a stables. And if the weather’s foul, at least you usually have a roof over your head.” Sometimes. There’s a grimace about the changes they’ve all faced and she can only shake her head, her eyes drifting to that skeleton-shell of the ship and she has to keep herself from shuddering. “We were all doomed to something like this the moment the Captain got it in his head to do what he did. At least we didn’t all die a terrible death like some did. We’ve got a chance.” There is that, at least. “Even if it means you got to drift for a bit, kid. You’re young, yet.” Now she grins, a bit. “I do whatever the Weyrwoman tells me to do. Which I should probably be doing right now…” Which is the precursor to her starting to step back. “I’m Luciana, by the way. In case you need to find me again.”

Isadora's grin, all dimples and light, turns a little mischievous, "Always good to use that to your advantage, I found. No one ever expects a woman to be able to hold her own. Especially in drinking and eating contests." She looks a little smug now, "Drunk men will bet stupidly. Made me a lot of marks over the turns." She grows a bit introspective as her gaze, as well, moves to the skeleton of the ship, her grin disappearing into a more neutral expression, "Anything's better than dead, that's for sure. Or the brig, I suppose." She gives Luciana an incline of her head, her corkscrewed blonde curls bobbing slightly with the movement, "Thanks again for not blowing my cover. I thought I had all this shit behind me." She bends to gingerly scoop up the muddy Polly, cradling the cat easily in her arms, "I'm Isadora. Call me Dora, though. Isadora sounds like some toothless old granny." She lifts the cat briefly and adds, "I probably should head off too. I need to wash this sharding idiotic cat without getting my eyes clawed out." She gives a bit of a smirk, "Wish me luck." She'll give one last glance to the wreckage of the ship before she, too, starts to head back towards the Weyr.

“Careful how much you boast or push it though, kid. Some don’t take to it so well.” Luciana warns but not without some small shred of genuine concern. The Weyr is probably a better place for Isadora than a Hold, so the woman doesn’t push it too much for the girl to watch her behaviour. “Brig isn’t so bad. Boring as all get out and you get restless pretty damn fast. Don’t get locked in with the men, either so at least you’re guaranteed a cell to yourself…” Only Luciana would make light of being behind bars! She makes it seem like she had no issue either but… some would remember differently. “Unfortunately I think we’ll be seeing this plague us for awhile yet. Won’t be so easily forgotten. Keep doing what you’re doing. Get into trouble and I won’t be able to keep my silence…” It’s another warning but a threat wrapped in with it too. She’s starting to like her place here and recent events with Drex have made her realize it can be put so easily in jeopardy. There’s a gruff laugh, “I’ll remember that. Best of luck then, Dora.” She might mean with everything and not just the cat. With a parting nod of farewell, Luciana will head back the way she came and just in time… those mosquitos are starting to become a real nuisance.