Who

Luciana, Zavyr

What

While flight hormones drift over the Weyr, Luciana and Zavyr find refuge.

References to: Rape, incest, murder and various forms of death.

When

It is evening of the twenty-eighth day of the second month of the tenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Southern Weyr - Jungle

OOC Date 12 Feb 2017 07:00

 

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Southern Weyr - Jungle

As the clearing is left behind, a deep silence permeates and soaks into the very ground that towering trees grow out of, accompanied by the humid heat of the enclosed rainforest. The silence is broken by the chittering call of wild firelizards, the chirruping of distant avians, and the ominous rustling of large, feline predators that stalk the deeper, heart of the jungle. Vines drape from the trees, falling to the jungle floor, which carries the hint of decay. Water drips from the canopy above, the soft sound almost musical against the echoing call of the jungles denizens. Westward, with the tangled overgrowth and the shadows of the deeper rainforest, the forest looms dangerous.


Though Zavyr has been at Southern for some sevens now, since the Hatching at Igen Weyr once more left her standing on the Sands, and though she has accepted Luciana's invitation to stay with her, Zavyr has managed to make herself extremely scarce. She seems to have once more adopted a largely nocturnal existance - sleeping during the day and wandering during the night, usually gone before Luciana returns from whatever Luciana does all day, and asleep should the woman return during the day. Or she's just not there, and perhaps sleeping elsewhere. In the spare bag of clothing, Zavyr had a few decent changes of garb - boy's, and she has once more adopted that mein, with short-again hair. Zavyr seems to have come into a bit of coin, and has been careful to pay her way, when she requires anything. But she seems bereft of so many of the other characteristics that had always marked her. She is now often quiet, has not performed, or even practiced where she can be seen, and tends to avoid public places that always once drew her as an interested spectator. And this evening, aftermath of the gold-flight and the inevitable effect it has on people, the woman has found a rare solitude. She sits, cross-legged, on a low branch of a tree, her three lizards arrayed along the narrowing limb in order of size: Valor, then Hope, then Joy.

Time has a funny way of slipping by and Luciana has long since established her own routines and patterns here in Southern. While she was glad that Zavyr took up her offer, she's not blind. She's noticed the changes, stark and subtle, in her niece. Despite that, she bides her time and does not push Zavyr to talk or to force the young woman to do anything. Not that Luciana's concerns aren't there; they are and at most times noticeable despite her efforts to hide them. Zavyr's quiet nature is what unsettles Luciana the most but she knows how grief works; at least for some. Not usually one to frequent the jungles, Luciana's left the comfort of the Weyr too when the gold flight began. She's never grown accustomed to the influence it brings and, despite having a partner she could turn to, it's still something she'd rather avoid. So it's to the jungles for her as well, though she won't immediately spy Zavyr. For one, she's not expecting anyone to be UP in the trees! Her hair is held back by a strip of cloth, not yet long enough to be properly tied but in this humidity a pain to be left loose. She's dressed in the usual garb she'd wear back as a pirate. Sturdy fabrics, snug fit and capable of roughing it through jungle. Not the most comfortable for the heat but nothing is perfect. Barqentine is not with her and she does not carry her cross bow, but it's not difficult to see she's armed with a good-sized knife instead.

"Is it over?" Zavyr's contralto inquires from somewhere slightly above where Luciana has just trod, and perhaps a bit behind her. All three lizards peer down at Luciana, with Valor rearing up to stretch his wings and peer past the older woman, to see where her bronze companion might be off to. Zavyr shifts slightly on the branch, and a bit of bark drifts to the ground, as the younger woman shifts herself to better see the other. "Or are they still acting crazy?"

Luciana turns sharply and clearly startled when the voice comes from behind and above. When recognition settles, she'll visibly relax and sigh. "I'd probably give it a little longer. Barq usually returns to me when things have settled," She smirks. "More or less." More importantly is that she's slipping the knife back into it's sheath, having half-drawn the blade out of instinct. "What're you doing up there, kid?" Back to that familiar nickname. She approaches the tree, head craned to peer up at her. "Hiding too?"

"Yeah. I've no interest in…" She gestures vaguely, wrist flipping as if to toss something skyward, before her hand settles back into her lap. "Yeah. It was bad enough when we were in the brig, when it happened. But I don't need to be… Yeah. Running into Drex or something." Drex being a 'something', rather than a 'someone'. "And… With that influence. No thanks. Why you here? Isn't D'ean…?" Around? Convenient? Busy?

Even Drex's name is enough to usually bring a bad reaction to Luciana. What Zavyr hints at? Almost makes the woman spit curses but the mood soon passes as she wills herself to calm down. Bad blood, still, between those two. "No kidding, kid. Don't blame you for getting the hell out of there. Not the only one who will." As for why she's here? She just shakes her head, "It's not so easy. I don't like feeling like I've no say in the matter or that he's affected too. Doesn't seem right." Sorry D'ean. She's still weirded out by certain aspects of the Weyr, even if she's a woman of… loose morals at best. "You wanna come out of the tree before I put a crick in my neck staring up at you though?"

She will come out, as bidden. Zavyr rises and as she pads along the length of the bough, the lizards lift off in turn to glide through the humid air to find new perches. Zavyr spies a likely landing spot, then curls into a front-flip, landing handily enough. She rises and turns again, but glances deeper into the jungle for a moment, before relaxing incrementally. "I guess I wouldn't have an objection if it were…" She shakes her head, touches the bracelet on her wrist with the other fingers. "Be kind of fun, I think." A bittersweet curl to her lips, there, before she looks up. "But I guess I see your point, Sharps." Perhaps that's an attempt at humor. Maybe.

Luciana will be patient while Zavyr makes her way down from the tree, smirking and rolling her eyes a bit for the front-flip that's executed. "It's fine. If anyone made it out this far or deeper, they're… preoccupied." In whatever manner. She'll watch as the bracelet is touched, a habit she's also noted in her niece that doesn't require questioning in the least bit. Luciana's been there. "Maybe? To each their own and maybe someday I'll get over my hangups but… not this time." Maybe next time. And since it was a bit of a joke, she'll half-grin and shrug her shoulders. "D'ean's been under a lot of stress anyhow. For all I know, he's sleeping." She sounds envious of that. "Y'know, now that I think of it? Jungles probably aren't the best of places to be. You current with the news here?"

"No." Zavyr answers, simply, without explanation. She does reach down and, balancing on one leg, remove her boot and tip it out, before diving her hand down the length of it, to investigate the toe region with her fingers. At length, she retrieves a small twig, bowed, and examines that for a moment, before dropping it. Joy flits down to pick up the stick and make off with it, soon to be chased by Hope, who evidently decides that SHE wants the stick. The boot is pulled back on and Zavyr glances up at Luciana expectantly.

"Ah, well…" Luciana's thrown off again. For all those times in the past where she'd wished Zavyr would speak less, now that it's actually happened? She'd do anything for her to be as she was. There's a quirk of a brow for what is pulled out of that boot. What the heck was that? Recovering, Luciana finds some nearby fallen tree to sit upon, patting the spot beside her as open invitation. "Grubs are failing here. They used to help with Threadfall. Eat it, should any skip by the Wings. So there's been burrows. Lots of them. And now fires, from the attempts of ground crews to rid the infestations," Fun times! Her expression is grim. "They've had to scale back. Lots of lost crops and fields. Lots of riders gone."

"Gone? As in died-gone?" Zavyr queries. "How do Thread-burrows kill riders?" There's a frown at that, as Zavyr's able imagination tries, then rejects, any number of scenarios. "I've never heard of grubs that eat Thread." But she has overheard a lot of discussion about grubs and had wondered about its import. "Do they need more ground-crew? I could do ground-crew. I've helped on the ground before, during Fall." And she glances around. "And wouldn't it be obvious if there were Thread-burrows in the area? Falling trees or something?"

Luciana shakes her head, "It's not the burrows killing the riders… well. Except that freak accident that saw a rider, ranked one too, on loan from Benden get roasted," She's not one to mince words, at times. "But more riders are dying or injured in 'Fall from being exhausted. Apparently these grubs were key. Now they're not doing what they should and everyone's going to feel it come winter. They're always looking for more ground crew but… you sure you're up for that?" It's not voiced out loud but just the look Luciana gives her says enough. Is she strong enough? Another grimace, as she looks about the jungles again. "Yeah, something like that. And I didn't think it'd be this close but I know how much you like to… wander."

"They had me doing PT every day at Igen, and I could hack that. I could lug around a 'thrower, or AgNO3-sprayer, if need be." Zavyr returns. "I'm not doing anything right now, but waiting to catch up with Drex. Are those guards EVER gone from him?" With two exceptions, Zavyr has no trust in guards. "Who would I sign up with, for ground-crew?" Zavyr persists on that line. "And I don't much want to wander here. I'm told there's big cats, and they attack. Cats are a bit more agile than I am. But I figured this was close enough to the dragons, that the cats probably wouldn't come this close." Another look over at Luciana invites agreement or dispute to that guess.

"Alright, fair enough." Luciana does have to concede to that. As for Drex? Again, her expression twists and her eyes narrow. "Damned if I know but he deserves every bit of it. Why do you even want to speak for him?" It's something that will forever baffle her. "I'll show you where to sign up for the crews… once it's safe to go back. It's on the way back to my room anyhow." Convenient, that! Mention of the felines brings a grimace but she does not seem to terribly concerned. "Haven't heard of an attack this close to the Weyr… So I doubt you'd see one here." she confirms.

"From what I hear, I doubt I'd see one at all." Zavyr murmurs in return. But her lizard might. Before Lane became her guard, Valor saw to it, and the bronze has grown into his role even more since Lane's untimely departure. Even now the bronze has settled sentinal atop a nearby branch. "Orderly? He's not a bad man, Sharps. Just bent different. I didn't mean to nearly kill him, and I'm sorry for it. And… People screw up. I don't know. He's got a good thing going. Not a pirate anymore, trying to go straight." Her shoulders lift and drop. "If I can help, why not?"

Luciana's expression goes hard while Zavyr explains and it's obvious she's not feeling quite the same way. Not anymore. "Because he doesn't deserve it!" she fires back. "He had his chance and he ruined it by almost killing you. Then, rather than keep his stupid self from the Weyr after all we did to keep him alive, he shows up here. And what does he do? Threatens more folk, in front of a rider." D'ean, more specifically. "And then, to top it all off, I had to tell weyrwoman Clementine, the Weyrsecond T'zaim and Weyrleader D'cen everything which resulted in my arrest and trial." she points out, with a quick aside. "And Drex's too. But I almost lost my position and what little foothold I have here because of him. That's how he repays kindness, kid! And you don't owe him anything."

"He didn't almost kill me. You guys got him off me before he did." Zavyr points out. "And I didn't say he was clever, Luciana. I figured he just wasn't that bad of a person. I mean… He doesn't try to kill everyone, does he? Just me. And everyone threatens people." She considers, "And where else did he have to go? C'mon. Have you had a place so long now, that you forget what it's like to want one?" Zavyr turns to study Luciana with those pale eyes. "So you had to tell the truth… Because … He told the truth?" A smirk plays on Zavyr's lips, then, at that question.

Luciana rolls her eyes, "He was going to kill you, Zavyr! And he almost died for the attempt. I made the mistake of not thinking he was that terrible a person. He had Black Rock Hold. Any of the holds! Not here. He was supposed to stay away!" she states again, only to narrow her eyes at her niece in a glare, her mouth drawing into a tight, thin line. "I'm never going to forget that or what it's like to be to be an outcast. I've worked carefully to be where I am here. Sacrificed everything that I was!" There's a hardness to her voice then, a steely edge of anger. "Yes," She doesn't deny it. "I should've told Clementine everything from the start but, foolish me, trying to protect people. Including you." She doesn't mean for it to sound so harsh but her temper twists her words.

Any amusement evaporates from Zavyr's features and she'll drop her gaze again, this time to study the detritus-laden soil, overlapping leaves and organic material that creates such a springy turf compared to Igen's sands or Kurkar's rock surface. "I'm sorry." Finally, that comes out, quietly. "I've overstepped. But you need not protect me." Another pause, before she adds, "Best not, in fact. Bad things happen to those who try to protect me, eh? I'm supposed to be solo, I think." She glances over and shakes her head again, "After his trial, I'll take off back to Igen. The Weyrsecond there said he knew some ships, might take me. I'll do that for a while."

Luciana regrets her words and the tone she used the moment the amusement fades from Zavyr and while she doesn't immediately look back at her, she will take a brief second to calm herself down and regain control. "No, I'm sorry for getting angry at you like that, kid. It's not your fault. There's just a lot of bad blood between Drex and I right now," she mutters and reaches to place a hand on either of the girl's shoulders. "You are worth protecting and I'd do anything to see that you're safe." Her expression falls a bit when she expresses her plan and it involves Igen again. Worse of all? Ships. "Reputable ones, I hope?" she attempts a bit of dry humour there, just before drawing Zavyr into a hug. "You could always have a home here too, y'know? Wouldn't be alone and I promise to stay out of your hair and not be the overbearing aunt…"

Zavyr flinches at the touch, unexpected, and draws her knees up into a loop of her arms. "No, don't say that, Sharps. Don't commit to that. People die around me. You should know that better than anyone." If Zavyr is beginning to feel like there's a path of graves behind her…Might be a reason. "I'll go on any ship that will take me. I'm not exactly in a position to be picky. And what would I do here? I could ground-crew, as long as they need me, I guess. Maybe there's kitchen work." Quietly spoken, that. "I did that at Igen."

Luciana draws back from the hug the moment she feels Zavyr flinch and while it hurts her to feel it, she won't push contact. "I do know better," she states firmly instead. "And you're all that I have left of my sister. My ? our family! Of course I'm going to try to protect you!" Ill fate and bad luck do not seem to deter her in the slightest. She frowns, "You should be picky! You think you don't have a choice but you do. If you're going to work on a ship, you better damn well make sure it's a decent one." she cautions again, only to smirk. "They need you for that, trust me. And… maybe not kitchen work. Could always work with me? An assistant to an assistant is a thing, isn't it?" Mild humour, that as she tries to lighten the mood again. She sobers, however. "Seriously. I mean, I'd spare you the dullness of the hidework portion but the rest…?"

"I really don't want anyone else to try to protect me. Stop saying that." The distress cannot be hidden; Luciana's words ring too similar to Lane's oft-repeated oaths to protect Zavyr. "It doesn't go well, Sharps. Please stop saying that. I do best on my own. And if I don't, then I fail on my own. But it's just me, that way." She rises, then, and steps away from the log, pulling a cheap knife out of her boot and slinging it toward a tree. It hits, unerringly, tip in and blade parallel to the ground. Zavyr steps forward to collect it, and then turns to set it flying toward another tree. "What do you do?" Zavyr asks, then, obliquely stepping past her own words, her own evident paranoias.

Unfortunately, Zavyr's distressed voice only brings more of a concerned and protective response from Luciana. "It's not that easy and it'll never just be you," she tries to explain, as gently as possible. "You've people who care about you. That's what family does. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to lie or pretend that I will just stand idly by. I know you're grieving, kid. I've been there, when I watched Verain die." Remaining on the log, she'll watch as Zavyr throws the knife again and again, silent during that time until the question is put to her. "In simplest terms? I'm a spy. In more polite words, I'm simply the eyes and ears for the weyrwoman. I do what she asks of me and report back. And if there's none of that, I'm more of the assistant. Hidework, meetings… that sort of thing."

"The Weyrwoman has a spy." Zavyr muses, tugging the knife out of the wood again, with a foot placed on the bark and some pressure settled against the knife handle. When the tip comes clean, she wipes it absently against her trousers, before using the blade to swat at a persistant vtol that seems determined to land on Zavyr's nose. "If you need help with that, feel free to pull me off ground crew. How often does Thread fall here? I can clean tanks, too. And the leather harnesses." The simple skills are trotted out, like some defense, nevermind that the work is unskilled, and precious close to that expected of drudges.

Luciana smirks and dips her head a bit, "That she does. And I could always ask Clementine about it. I'm… I believe I'm on good enough footing with her again to chance it. You could still do time with the crews; I help when I can. Threadfall is regular enough." A little too regular, by her opinion and tone.

"That would be fine, if you want, Sharps. Thank you." Zavyr intones, before slipping the knife back into her boot. "I'll try to talk to Drex soon. See when his trial is, but I can certainly do …Something. In the meantime." Zavyr looks up at the canopy now, shadowing the dimming sky further, before she looks over at Luciana. "Perhaps we should head back? Slowly. I just don't want to get…Disoriented in here." Without being able to see the moons or any landmarks, Zavyr finds herself easily turned around in the dense under-brush of the Southern jungle. "And get me signed up. Tell me about Verain?"

Luciana just nods and doesn't argue. She may disapprove of Zavyr's desire to help Drex but she's going to bite that back and refrain from having another argument where she will say more that she regrets to the girl. "We'll sort something out. Once all of the dust settles…" She means the flight. As for heading back? She's quiet, thoughtful but only because she's waiting on a certain bronze and Barq does appear, landing on her shoulder. "Should be alright," Confirmation that they can return and she'll stand, brushing off any clinging bark or moss from her pants. "Just stick close. I know some of the quieter ways back in." Of course she would and, gesturing for her to follow, starts to head off. "… what do you want to know, kid?"

The slender paler woman will fall in behind Luciana, letting the other pick the way through the jungle. "I-" Then she stalls out. Is quiet for a few paces, and Luciana may hear a deep drawn breath in and released. "Just-…" Zavyr's footfalls are near-silent, but sticks grab at the cloth of her garb and make small scraping sounds as she passes, and she reaches to break a twig, absently, as she paces along. "It's-… Anything…" A hesitation. "Nevermind. So you're happy here? It's good? As good as on a ship?" The alternate subject is proffered.

Zavyr should know by now that that sort of behaviour is just going to make Luciana stop walking so that she can turn and face her. "No, this is important." she chides gently. None of that evasiveness! Something briefly flickers in her eyes when a ship is mentioned but it's brushed aside. Later, maybe, they'll revisit that. "What did you want to ask? I'll try to answer you as best I can."

"I know nothing about my bloodkin, except the little you've told me. I-" She studies the other woman, frowning slightly. "What would you want to know of your mother, if you did not ever meet her? Of your family? What were they like? Brave? Hard working? Lazy? Cowards? Did they sing? Could they dance? What talents? What did the family raise on the cothold? Or were they skilled crafters of some sort? Did they help others? Go to Gathers or hide away? Were there traditions or stories? Anyone in the family ever go to a Craft or Weyr? What sort of people did I come from?"

Luciana asked for it and Zavyr delivered! Eventually, she has to hold up her hands but there's a quiet laugh that follows. "Okay, okay. I see what you mean right now. You want all of it. Well… I can tell you all of that but it's going to take more than one night and probably shouldn't be done out here. And I'll probably need at least one pint or two of beer because I'm dredging up a lot of things I've not touched for Turns… but you deserve to know. Your birthright, I guess, huh?" There's something of a smirk, but there's fondness there too. "Come on, kid." She starts to turn, preparing to resume their trek back to the Weyr. "Let's hurry back. Get you signed up, grab some food and drink and we can talk in my room. Deal?"

Zavyr's expression ambulates to one more relaxed, a bit of the stress that hollows her features thinning, as a wary smile briefly softens the planes of cheek and chin. "Deal." As the path clears, her footfalls draw Zavyr next to Luciana, and she'll match the other woman's pace. "I had a great childhood. My aunt and uncle and I traveled in a wagon, all over. We had a draybeast named Lightning, and I grew up riding him, learned to drive the wagon. For a while I had a pony, and my uncle taught me some trick-riding. They taught me tricks, and dance. I never wanted to learn to sew or cook, but I think I was the son that Zarick never had. And Aryanne doted on me. We earned what we could and stole what we couldn't afford. We camped in all sorts of beautiful places. I learned to swim and walk ropes and throw knives and perform simple tricks with cards. We were happy. Aryanne kept trying to have another child, but she never took. Until the one that came dead. And then she died. But that was after we were trapped in the Underground." Just saying. Words to fill the silence, maybe.

"And it makes me happy to know you had a childhood like that. Verain would have loved to have known. Your mother was much of a free spirit, like Aryanne and Zarick, I'd say. She was called "rebellious" but that wasn't it; we had a good life but a hard one. She wanted more… and she never did well with being so restricted. Our father, your grandfather, was a strict man. Old-time mentality." As though it explains it all. Luciana smiles a little, for the happier memories filtering through her thoughts. It's in this moment, without even thinking about it, that she tries to slip her arm around Zavyr's shoulders in a companionable fashion. "Verain was clever though. Real smart. Too smart, to stay where home was. If she'd lived, I wouldn't doubt that she'd leave. Probably on better terms and better means than I did." They're nearing the Weyr now but the chaos seems to have ebbed. Luciana's careful none-the-less to keep them from going anywhere where 'trouble' may lurk. Instead she's veering right for the inner tunnels. They'll probably grab food right from the kitchens, rather than risk the living caverns.

Zavyr doesn't seem to mind the arm over her shoulder, and she'll glance sidelong to catch that quick smile on Luciana's features. "Old-time mentality, or Oldtimer mentality?" The two seem to not parse, at least at Igen Weyr. "You were both Harper-taught, at least a little? You read and write well. Did she? Was the cothold a family endeavor, or something new? Had it been passed down? Is there anyone there now, or was it just a bust?" A few seconds later, and another question, "How-so, 'rebellious', then? What did she do?"

"Isn't that one and the same?" Luciana apparently can't find the diifference between the two words used by her. "Of course we were Harper-taught. We were backwater but not that far out. Mother insisted we knew enough and Verain was a sponge. I used to tease her that the Archives in Harper Hall wouldn't be enough." So her sister was more advanced and skilled than she, is what she's alluding too. "Cothold was family. Several generations." she explains in a quieter voice. She'll go completely silent when they reach the kitchens, focused more on gathering them some food to take back to her room. Only once they're there (and she checks to be sure D'ean hasn't decided to hole up in there and wait), she'll talk again once the door is closed and locked. She gestures for Zavyr to make herself comfortable, while she sets the food on the lone, small table. "Cot hold's gone to ruin. At least what we owned. Better that way, I think." Pausing, she considers her answer and chuckles softly. "Oh, your mother was just good with being clever. She didn't agree but while some would be more… blunt and hot tempered with their unhappiness," She gestures to herself. "Verain was subtler. Craftier. She had a way of working our parents so well it'd usually take them a day or two to realize they'd been conned. I think our father was both furious by it and impressed and always regretting she'd not been the son he'd wanted."

"No, the Oldtimers that came from way back…There's a lot of them at Igen. They don't have issues with women riders, or women wingleader or that." Zavyr has picked up that after two cycles of Candidacy over there at Igen Weyr. "It seems to be an issue with the modern riders. But I don't know how it is at the Holds, really. Where I was… The Underground… It was pretty… Well. There were no female raiders, except me the time they sent me out. But both the bounty hunters were female. And there was no messing with them." Zavyr curls up onto a chair in a typically bone-less pose, and picks at the food, selecting only finger-type vegetables. "Why were your parents unhappy with Verain?"

Luciana's quick to amend her earlier comment once Zavyr explains, "They were definitely not Oldtimers." There's a grimace for that. She doesn't seem wholly surprised either by the lack of female raiders and that Zavyr somehow managed to pass off as being a male one. "Bounty hunters? Now there's a short-term profession," she mutters and will nudge the food a little closer to Zavyr. Notably, most of the foods are breads, cheeses, vegetables and fruit. She knows better than to throw meat in there. "I wouldn't say they were unhappy with her. They loved her, dearly. Especially our father. But she would test their patience quite often. Which is why it shocked me that… that my parents gave you away. I was too young though, to really understand it."

"Seems a matter of practicality." Zavyr returns. "No nursemaid. If she died when I was born. Babies need milk. Aryanne had milk. But I guess they could have tried to hire one. But if I was a reminder of her death… And whatever your uncle did to her." Zavyr's study seeks the neutral wall opposite as she considers, "I'd not want to grow up always knowing that when someone was looking at me, they were hating my father, or hating me for having killed my mother. Hard enough to be your own person, if you're… That tied into that kind of thing." She considers further, "Was it known? That Verain was pregnant? Had been raped?"

"Exactly," Luciana doesn't feel the need to elaborate as Zavyr pretty much hit all the crucial points. Reaching for some of the food, she'll take a small bite but otherwise seems disinterested. Clearly, not-eating when troubled runs in the family? "And there is that. At least you were spared that life but it still hurt to see the only part of Verain I'd left be taken away like that." She grimaces next and gets up from her chair, wandering to one of the few other pieces of furniture: a small cabinet. From that, she'll take out a small bottle of beer. Likely smuggled in during the shortage, though that problem has now since resolved. "There was enough rumour. My parents, I think denied it… but Verain's death changed all that. They say my uncle was run out of the hold but I doubt that."

"He's still alive?" Zavyr had gathered that he was dead, but isn't sure how. If he's alive, he'd have made it onto Lane's 'kill' list, no doubt. "Was the uncle just a bad seed? Was he…Like…" Zavyr's not sure how to ask. "In the Underground, there was a man. We all knew he was up to something. Like. Bad. We knew. He wanted…He'd want us to go with him. Alone. To 'work' with him in his shop. The boys, actually. He didn't seem interested in girls. But we knew, you know? We all knew. Was the uncle…" Zavyr's father? "Like that?"

Luciana's expression is grim and that should be answer enough. "No, he's dead too. Just on record he's been 'run off'." And as Zavyr begins to explain the man from the Underground, she looks increasingly uncomfortable but manages to nod. "Something like that but he hid it well. Until he turned his perversions to family." There's a wince for that. "Sorry, kid. I know it's hard and the man was… technically your father but I have no love for my uncle. None."

"Half me." Zavyr returns, steadily studying the far wall. "What did he look like? Did he ever mess with you, or were you too young? Nodin liked them… About fourteen, fifteen. Old enough to… Do what he wanted, I guess, but still young enough to intimidate. To scare them quiet." She considers, before turning to eye the plate of food and fetch a piece of fruit, "He was an excellent leather-worker. Did amazing stuff. Well-respected. And none of the kids he went after… None could… Their word against his. If Baham had found out, he'd have castrated Nodin. He had no patience for that."

"More sandy hair coloured than us. Not half as tall or broad-built as his brother. He was a well respected man once too. Good at what he did. And no, he never messed with me but Verain made sure I knew." Luciana had her sister's confession then and likely held that secret until everything came to light. Her eyes darken under a heavy, severe frown. "So what happened to this Nodin? Don't tell me he still lives in that Underground place? And as for my uncle… he'd probably would have faced a similar fate. Rapists aren't given light sentences." At least in her neck of the world.

"Nodin is dead and at the bottom of the Maw." Zavyr intones with somber tones. She cannot quite suppress the shudder, and nearly drops the root she'd picked up, but catches it before it falls, and takes a hasty bite of it. "And the whole family, mostly, dead now? Was it a plague? What could kill off a whole family, who'd made it for generations? Or did I just precipitate a downfall that couldn't be recovered from?"

Luciana smirks, "Good riddance." She's not blind and notices the shudder from Zavyr and sighs, "Killing is never easy. If it came to that, from your hands? He deserved it. Not that it makes it any easier. Don't ever let killing be easy though. That's when you've gone too far," she mutters and then shakes her head, grimly. "You didn't bring about the end of things." Not really. "Sickness is always a worry in a remote place like home, but it was mostly age. Too much loss, not enough new blood…" She spreads her hands. "And the few who did remain were removed enough from the main bloodline to want nothing to do with our small piece."

"Lane and I would have made handsome children." Zavyr glances over at Luciana. "And then we'd have argued for turns on how to raise them." There's a wane grin to that. "I figure. Since we couldn't agree on about anything. Ever. His brother's name is Kelne. I met him. He said I'm his sister, now." Quietly spoken, and the subject of Nodin is simply dropped in Zavyr's typical fashion of not-discussing-things-she-does-not-want-to-talk-about. "I wonder, if I was born a boy, if I'd be like him. My… Your uncle. If I'd…" She was a lusty woman, once upon a time.

"I agree," Luciana admits quietly and with a small but gentle smile. She doesn't want to prod at that too much, less it start to open wounds for Zavyr. "About your children. And that's just the given of any parents or couples. You never fully agree," she teases gently. Her brows lift, "You met his family? When?" she asks just as softly. She may act all prickly at times but she can be gentle! She chuckles, shaking her head and taking another bite of food. "You have some of the strangest thoughts but I think you'd still be you. Just actually a boy."

The story will come out, quietly. That Zavyr had felt she wanted to tell Lane's family of his death. That she went there. And the interview with the cook, and the cook's advice to speak to the brother. Zavyr will describe the encounter, in sparse words, without weeping. The anger she still feels for the man's parents seems to hold the sadness at bay, this time. And then she'll turn the conversation back to angles of her and Luciana's family - odd questions, peppered with small memories, perhaps some attempt at a parallel in her own bizarre history. Until, anyway, it's time for Luciana to bed down, and Zavyr to wander the night, to chase her own ghosts once more.

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