Out with the Old (Avu

[dragon]

Humming a tune under his breath in a more or less halting fashion, Emoyan was rather occupied with what he was doing. So much so that sometimes he forgot to keep up the tune. Eventually he'd pick it up again, but his fingers stayed busy the whole time. There was a pair of coarse weave sacks by his side, one of them was half full of stuff. Occassionally he'd reach over without looking, grab Skink, drag her out, and deposit her back on his other side. Not that she stayed there. Scampering back around behind the ex rider's back, she tried to sneak back into the bag again.

Why? Because she was a mischievous little snot of a mandyr, and wanted to be nosy and or destructive whenever possible.

"Skink." Emoyan warned, interrupting what he was doing. Catching her by her tail, he tossed her aside again, getting a drama queen wail for his efforts. "Behave yourself."

Returning his fingers to the lanyard at hand, he ran his fingers along it to tighten the knot at the end, surrounding the rather heavy metal beads slung there. He gave it a few experimental yanks to make sure it was good and snug, then strung it through his fingers again to find the other end of the lanyard to start all over again.

Pouting, Skink made like she'd heard and understood. Which of course she did. But minding was a whole other story. Sneaking around behind where Rascal was sitting, she made herself more or less scarce, biding her time for when Emoyan had forgotten to watch her so she could sneak back into the bag again.

Crossing his ankles out in front of him in a more relaxed posture while never moving from his seat on a downed log, Emoyan reached into the other back and picked out another heavy metal bead from it, and started trying to poke the lanyard through it.

[Avu]

Daily the songbirds rouse the sun from her nest, and yet there breathes no melody or lullaby to soothe the dusk into night. Alone does the night find its grace, such elegance in twin moons that sing their own harmony and praise their own beauty; what confidence lies within their thrall. So starkly apparent, so thinly veiled does daylight breathe life upon the world…so gaudily breezy; night stirs imagination and whispers of stories untold that linger like shadows or ghosts. There is ever fear in secrets, the most beautiful glamour for those with eyes to see. Do you, KaMine?

Listening to Rhiiseth ramble about night and day and what have you was oddly calming; reassuring. Proved that not everything had changed. Pern would continue to spin, Rhiiseth would continue to not make sense unless you were drunk or high or otherwise mentally incapacitated, he would continue to…breathe, Ka’aen supposed. There wasn’t really much else to do. Except, oh yeah, prepare for the Candidates. That would be fun, especially considering his mood was still incredibly mercurial, even if he was getting better about at least noticing it and stopping it. Not that he really had any issues with the Candidates. They were mostly just there, unexceptional in every way. He’d liked the girl who’d Impressed the gold at the last Hatching well enough, if only because she had a decent sense of respect and knew how to mount a dragon without toppling off the other side, but—

That didn’t mean Ka’aen had to look forward to it.

I see fine, he said evasively, knowing full well that wasn’t what Rhiiseth meant. He didn’t have to try to avoid looking at Rhiiseth to hide the evasion (which as much as gave it away, of course) given his distance from the dragon—Rhiiseth was still back at the Weyr, presumably sunning across his ‘ledge and evidently not entertaining any other dragons, since he was still content to just bespeak KaHis, and Ka’aen…well, the river was always a nice place for a walk. Quiet, couldn’t get lost as long as you stayed along the river and didn’t go on any impromptu adventures into the trees. Ka’aen’s hands were tucked idly into his pockets, his chin tucked towards his chest, his footsteps slow and casual as he ambled along, not really sure how far he planned to go before turning back—he had all day. There was really no hurry.

His footsteps slowed even more when he turned around a largish tree, Ka’aen blinking in curiosity at the sight before him. A man that he recognized vaguely by face and a name sometimes pointed out to him—not that he recalled it, exactly. E-something. Ean? Longer than that, he’d thought. Well, maybe not; Ka’aen wasn’t particularly good at remembering names without a reason to, except he thought that there ought to be some reason he recalled this particular man’s name. Something about…something. (Oh, yes, splendid memory, Ka’aen.) Without really thinking about it, he drifted curiously towards Emoyan, nodded towards the collection before him. “This is…”

Oh. Oh! Right.

Of course he ought to have recalled the guy’s name, he’d been the Candidatemaster before and Ka’aen had really meant to talk to him about the whole job thing and a few more things besides, but he’d never really gotten around to it—sloth, thy name was Ka’aen, but he’d always figured that out of all the sins, it could be worse.

“…interesting,” he finished, and then tilted his head to one side curiously. “I’m sorry—I can’t remember your name, but you were the Candidatemaster before, right? I’m Ka’aen, of Rhiiseth. I’d meant to talk to you before—is now okay?” His tone was completely polite, although Ka’aen couldn’t help the slight apprehension. His temper seemed to be surfacing an awful lot lately, and if the guy was mad at his job being appropriated as soon as they’d taken over (but what did you expect—you didn’t put someone who was basically the enemy in charge of those who would later be joining your ranks), it wasn’t impossible for Ka’aen to react similarly. Well, they’d see.

[dragon]

Emoyan glanced up at the sound of footsteps approaching, but no more than that, attention going back to what he was doing. He was nobody. Not even a rider. He had nothing to fear from anyone, really. He was no one, he had nothing. Because of that, he knew that it would be very rare for anyone to threaten him. What would be the point? For that, he was completely at ease allowing a stranger to walk up on him more or less unobserved. Not that he didn't know who it was. Oh no ... he knew who it was. By name anyway.

"I was." Emoyan answered simply. "Emoyan's my name." The lanyard finally went through the bead, and he strung it farther up to allow room for stringing another one. "I know who you are." Naturally. Who wouldn't know who stole their entire lively hood from them? The only thing he'd had left? But he was long since past being upset about it. That was ... months ago. Now, it was just a blatant fact. There was no emotion to his voice at all, just statement of fact. "Now is fine." He answered, threading a third bead after the first two, and starting a knot around them to hold them in place. Tugging the knot secure, he lowered it to his lap and squinted up at the Rider. "What did you want to talk about?" It really could be anything.

But wanted to talk to him? That was a tad odd. Emoyan never would have seen that coming. Why would the Wastelander want to talk to him? What about? By now it wasn't even the same class of students anymore, so it couldn't be that. They certainly didn't know each other. So he was somewhat interested to know what it was that Ka'aen wanted.

[Avu]

Emoyan, Emoyan—right.

Ka’aen nodded at the man’s words, hooking his thumbs casually over his pockets. He was, at least, polite, the bluerider noted appreciatively; lots of Selenitas wasn’t because he was definitely a Wastelander (the accent was a dead give-away, even if Rhiiseth wasn’t unique enough to) and he kind of understood that and all, but he was much more pleased with those who got the idea that war was war and war wasn’t personal until you made it personal. So yeah, it was kind of nice to be treated like, you know, a human being capable of responding to something other than bitter sarcasm once in a while, and while he could usually find one of the Wastelanders for company if he really wanted, that wasn’t really conducive to the whole Wasteland-Selenitas combining thing.

He moved to kneel next to Emoyan, crossing his forearms over his knees. Impolite to look down on someone you were talking to, and he didn’t know how long he’d be; might as well get comfortable. “It’s not really important,” he admitted, “And it’s more than a little late, but…the last Candidate class, I didn’t get much time with them before Millieth’s clutch Hatched and they Impressed and whatever. But this class—like, I genuinely have no idea what I’m supposed to do with them. I got the lesson plans, but they’re not really thrilling, you know, and I’d rather have them want to stick around and care as opposed to being forced to, you know?”

Well, maybe not. Ka’aen knew approximately nothing about Candidates. It had been more than twelve years since he’d Impressed Rhiiseth; he’d been thirteen and before that, his memories were vague at best. He hadn’t even been a Candidate very long compared to most. And he hadn’t ever been Candidatemaster before either.

What he had been was a Wingrider and an interrogator, but somehow interrogation by torture and Candidate lessons just didn’t seem to be anywhere in the same league. Unless you maybe bored the Candidates to tears, but Ka’aen didn’t want to do that. He didn’t. He wanted to make them have at least a passive interest in what was going on, and not a lot got achieved if they just stared out the window the entire time during a lecture. And further on that note: He didn’t even want to lecture. Lecturing struck him as being just as unappealing as listening to a lecture. Rhiiseth had agreed, too, except that the blue would’ve happily been the lecturer. Just, if Rhiiseth did it, nobody would understand anything. So no, not going that way.

“I was thinking along the lines of a scavenger hunt or something, to familiarize them with the Weyr layout—something fun, since I’m going to have the time with this class to do it.” He flicked a glance inquisitively in Emoyan’s direction, checking his reaction. “I just wanted to know—did you do anything along those lines or anything when you were Candidatemaster? Or—I mean, what did you do? I’m really out of my depth here.”

[dragon]

Emoyan glanced at Ka'aen when the man crouched nearby, and then set his work aside into the bag. Emoyan was a Harper, that's all he was anymore. Harpers were more versed in the works of the polite side of the world, and it was only polite to give the man his attention if they were going to have a conversation. Thank Faranth it appeared to be a civil one so far. Emoyan understood the wiles of war and change of power quite well; he'd originally come from Fort and fought Benden, after all. Things happened, and usually out of one's own control. All a body could do was roll with it, and hope to survive.

If living was what you wanted, that is. Some could only take so much before they stopped caring, and those were the really scary ones. You never could tell what they'd do, because they didn't care if they survived.

"There, you are wrong. It is very important. The Candidates, in one way, are the most important people in the Weyr. Most people do not realize this. Without them, there will be no future generations of Dragons." Emoyan corrected. "Despite being the lowest ranked, they are the most important. Anything in context of pertaining to Candidates is quite important. Being placed in charge of them is not just a pat on the head keep you out of the way position, I hope you realize. But, as you seem to have come to see, it is not an easy job either. You are going to have to learn to adapt to each class, and not be surprised if the lads turn up wearing cocoanuts for breasts." Emoyan answered. Dragging his heels closer to himself, he leaned his elbows on his own knees.

"Remember, these are children. Some of them older than others. They are quick, and bright. They learn quickly, if you can get their attention. But, also as children, they are still strongly wired with the most basic of instincts. Try things, if it doesn't work, try something different. Food is a good draw, especially sweets. I found that having a tray of cookies at the start of class boosted attendance by quite a bit. Do not be strict about their munching on things as you teach them. My own curriculum was in the process of being modified when you ... arrived. Lectures bore them, yes. Something more interactive is best. Question and answer. Either they ask, you answer, or you ask and have them answer. Or both. But it is also slow and time consuming, be aware of that. Taking them on a tour or field trip of the Weyr is a waste of time. Those kids know this place like the back of their hands, and would lose you faster than you could blink. What would be good is pairing them up with friendly riders. Give them a glimpse into the Rider's world, what it takes to take care of a dragon. Moreover, you need to be approachable. They need to feel comfortable with you, so they can come to you with any problems they might have, either in studies or otherwise. You can't be a standoffish outsider that is demanding respect, and get anywhere with them. Not saying that you were, I am just saying."

"There is always a very easy answer to all of your problems though." Emoyan concluded, straightening, and plucking Skink back out of the bag again. "You could let me have my job back." Tossing the small creature head over tail into the leaves, he turned his gaze upon Ka'aen, obviously quite sincere for the statement.

[Avu]

Oh—he hadn’t meant to imply that the Candidates weren’t important.

Ka’aen blinked, but he didn’t interrupt the other man to correct him. Such a small correction also wasn’t important, after all. He just…had figured that even if he hadn’t ever gotten around to looking Emoyan up, he’d still have gotten along just fine. If all else failed, he could just go the dull lecture path, no matter how little he wanted to, after all. But no, he did realize. Candidates were important—which was why a Wastelander was in charge of them at all. Ka’aen hadn’t been begging for the job; he’d gotten it because they didn’t want a Selenitas loyalist in charge of the future dragonriders; that was asking for trouble and Ja’kin wasn’t stupid. Same went for C’zan and his Weyrlingmaster post, Ka’aen had assumed—a just in case kind of thing.

The bluerider hummed thoughtfully when Emoyan came to a close on the lesson suggestions. Pairing them up with Riders—again, risky, but he supposed that was a definite possibility. He wouldn’t personally mind having a Candidate tagalong; he could talk to a few other Riders and ask, too, but he’d be definitely wary about pairing up Candidates with Riders he didn’t know—Faranth forbid they end up paired with the second coming of Z’ves or Erilena. “I’ll look into that,” he murmured, brushed against Rhiiseth’s mind to see if the blue had been paying attention, and found the dragon much more interested in Emoyan himself.

Heaven eyes, stardust falls upon our earthly graves, Rhiiseth murmured, a smoky purr across Ka’aen’s mind, before he receded into silence again—blatantly still curious, but less forwardly so.

Ka’aen ignored Rhiiseth—it paid to, sometimes, when the blue was feeling exceptionally difficult. Instead he huffed a dry laugh, shook his head ruefully, at Emoyan’s all-too-sincere comment. Did he really think it was easy as just resigning? He wasn’t sure if Ja’kin would even let him resign without very, very good reason, to start. And then, another Wastelander would probably be asked to take over the Candidatemaster position (which Ka’aen wasn’t sure that would be a really good idea—none of them struck him as being very good teachers for various reasons, even if he was considering himself a halfway decent one). Emoyan was…well, he didn’t know.

“You’d have to take that up with Ja’kin, not me,” was all he said. “I’m just the puppet.” His gaze flickered momentarily in the direction that Emoyan had tossed his little Salamandyr, a brief glance before he looked back at the older man, shrugged. “Anyway, the easiest answer isn’t always the right one. For what it’s worth, sorry—being Candidatemaster wasn’t ever a job I’d planned on taking.” It might only make it worse; someone who didn’t even want the job now had it and Emoyan had nothing—but Ka’aen personally preferred honesty, even from near-strangers. Each to his own, of course, but still. For what it was worth, indeed.

[dragon]

Emoyan chuckled. "Ain't that the truth." he remarked dryly. "I know." he had not expected the comment to garner anything more than possibly suspicious looks. It was marks in Ka'aen's favor, in Emoyan's mind, that it hadn't garnered a single suspicious look. "Though honestly I don't think Ja'kin would even register that I exist, much less pay any attention to anything I had to say. On top of my having migrated here before the lot of you did." He shrugged. "Not that it matters. You just take good care of those kids, and don't let anyone hurt them."

Would he admit, to a Wastelander even, that that job had been all he'd had left in his life? Nope. Didn't mean he couldn't say he wouldn't mind having his job back. "Don't you ever get tired of being a ... puppet ... as you say?" Emoyan asked, curious whether or not Ka'aen really was half as personable as he seemed, or if he was being nice only because he was grasping at straws with his assigned job, and he thought Emoyan had the answers.

Picking up the lanyard with the metal beads on the end again, he gave it an idle tug, still more or less watching Ka'aen even as his fingers tied knots in the lanyard, a couple of other knotted and beaded lanyards dangling from it.

[Avu]

What could you expect, Ka’aen thought with idle fascination. Dragonriders paid attention primarily to other dragonriders only in the war, considered them the biggest threat—and mostly ignored the other people. Ja’kin had to deal with Lord Holders as well, and maybe the bronzerider paid attention to them, but you didn’t ever fawn over just people, especially if they were essentially nobody in the grand scheme of things. But they weren’t just people once you got to know them. Ja’kin probably knew that, of course; he wouldn’t be where he was if he didn’t. Still. “Yeah,” he said, not really a viable response, “Yeah, I will,” because even though being trusted with the kids in question meant so much more than just yeah, excessive words would only cheapen it anyway.

He couldn’t help the ironic, wry smile that twisted his mouth up, an expression Ka’aen had never really grown out of ever, at Emoyan’s question. Yeah, puppet. The bluerider hummed thoughtfully, gaze dropping briefly to the lanyards that Emoyan had in his hands, trying to pick the answer out of the pull-tuck-shine of them. Did he get tired? Ka’aen didn’t really know—had never thought much about it. Gotten that bone-weary exhaustion sometimes, never wanted to move again except to reach out to touch Rhiiseth sometimes, felt like the end of the war was never going to come sometimes…but that was ordinary. Everybody felt like that once in a while, didn’t they, especially now when everything was snapping and fraying at the edges.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, quiet and honest. Ka’aen had never expected anyone to be honest with him without the same in return, and it was just easier to tell the truth than to come up with a lie that would sound halfway viable anyway. He shrugged, smiled crookedly. “I don’t think it matters much, in the end. You still don’t have your own strings, so what can you do—sulk, cut yourself down?” He huffed out his breath in dry amusement, shook his head slightly, and then flicked his gaze back up to Emoyan, “It’s hard to hate what you’re accustomed to, isn’t it?”

Conditioning. Classic psychology. He wasn’t a Mindhealer but he knew about it anyway. Stockholm Syndrome of a different kind; pick you up by your puppet strings freshly-painted and never let you down again. And he didn’t even hate it. He didn’t even faintly resent it—just knew it was there and he was okay with it most of the time. A means to an end, wasn’t it? Win the war, win the world, win your own peace and let the world collapse into its own chaos and anarchy. It got easier to recognize after reaching the South, seeing how they lived and thinking, maybe we’re not perfect after all—but regardless, it was still his life. His mind.

Well—his and Rhiiseth’s. Thank Faranth for small mercies.

[dragon]

Ka'aen seemed to be a thoughtful sort. Not something he would have expected to be so blatantly apparent in a lower ranking puppet of Ja'kin's regime. He knew from experience as well as anything else that blueriders were expected to just take orders and follow them. Not think about them any more than was entirely necessary to get the job done. After all, 'everyone knows' that the guys meant to run the show and tell everyone what to do impressed Bronze. Emoyan's thoughts derailed there, and wondered when he'd started thinking so sarcastically. To himself, on top of it all. He didn't even have anyone to think to anymore. Except Skink, and she didn't count.

Skink counts, so! Skink protested, sitting up like a meercat in the leaves to glare at Emoyan, not that it got her anywhere.

Emoyan shook his head sadly, slowly. "I can understand not missing what you've never known. That is expected, really. But, does it matter in the end? Of course it matters in the end. Power in the hands of the few is an illusion, you know. The few only have that power because everyone around them lets them have it. You can't be leader if no one is willing to follow. The real power lies in the hands of the many, if they only realize it. The problem is that people only realize this in singles, one here, one there. They don't come to this realization as a whole. If they did, there would be no such thing as tyranny, now would there be? Instead of a tyrant, you'd have a loon no one paid much mind to. But, given the way things work, one person refuses to give a given individual that said power of intimidation, and they get smitten. Keeps the rest in line, you know. Of course you do ..." he laughed softly. "We just lived through another round of just that." He sighed, and shrugged. "Cutting yourself down accomplishes nothing, doesn't matter what your paradigm is. Besides. Sulking looks so much better on those people who wear too much kohl. It just looks ridiculous on the rest of us."

He fingered his lanyard for a moment, before rolling the length around his hand into a coil, resting the metal beads in his palm. On a spur of the moment impulse, he reached into the bag that Skink had been so intent upon getting into. Lifting out a small parchment book that was bound in thin leather with some thin, flat lanyard stitching, he picked at the tie that held it shut. "Avians are amazing creatures, you know. They don't fly like dragons do, or even flitters. But they're so hard to get close to, to get an accurate sketch. Much less getting them to hold still that long. Look down a moment to make a line, and when you look up they're plumb gone." Emoyan mused aloud, rifling through the coarse pages before smoothing the book open, revealing two partially-done drawings of two small singing avians. He looked up at Ka'aen. "Do you think anyone would care or notice if I went on a hike? I think I would like to follow some of these avians, see where they're going, where they're coming from. Thought I would ask, since ... well ... I didn't want to get found half a day into my hike and get murdered for being suspected of being a spy or something."

[Avu]

Quietly, in the back of his mind, he thought: This is what they want. Let Selenitas and Wasteland become one. Let them—let us—know each other. Can you love someone you were born to hate? Let’s find out if you can befriend someone when you know you might have killed their lover, their best friend, their dragon, their family. Can you see the blood on your hands when you touch them, or does that fade, even if your knife never touched anybody in the attack? It’s not stained except in your mind, is it? If you tell them your secrets, if you start to know all of theirs and understand why they are, what makes them be, can you end up as one, friends, allies? Ka’aen bowed his head slightly, flicked a sideways gaze at Emoyan. Turn the tides; puppets cut down only after following orders, would that be it, then?

Emoyan speaking, though, the words, earned a soft laugh, Ka’aen wetting his lips as he nodded agreement. No, everything he said was true, but had to look at the other side. If there were no leaders, their world, their hierarchy and everything they knew and understood—that’d crumble. Needed a leader, someone to keep order, to stay alive, to survive, especially during the War. “All puppets need a master of some sort,” he murmured, rocking back on his heels and crossing his arms to press his elbows more comfortably against his knees. “Good master, bad master—well, that’s not for any single puppet to choose. Luck of the draw, if you want.”

The flicker of a sarcastic smile vanished into genuine interest as Emoyan abruptly changed the subject. “Yeah?” A brief glance over the images presented to him, before he shrugged in actual regret. “I don’t know how far you’d get—there are guards flying sweeps on a really regular basis. If you wanted to try, and explained, I’m sure they’d let you, but they might make someone tag along.” They’re paranoid, went unsaid, swallowed because they included him and Ka’aen tried not to be paranoid. He did. But he also knew that people hated him at Selenitas—as they ought to, a very quiet voice murmured—and it was kind of hard not to be.

He tried. “There are even guards for the wherhandlers, and they’ve already pretty much made it clear they’re not moving, from what I’ve heard—I don’t know. Sorry, as far as puppets go, I’m not the one the puppetmaster whispers his secrets to.” A wry, self-deprecating smile—Ka’aen had never tried to be. Being ambitious was as good as having a death wish.

[dragon]

Emoyan grunted low in his throat. "It's not luck of the draw. As long as everyone cows to the biggest baddest canine in the pack, it'll continue to be the way it is. The biggest and baddest will always be the one on top." he answered. "Because we let them. I am not saying leaders are bad, or even that we could do without them. I am just saying that maybe we should do a better job selecting who we allow to be in charge. That's all." He shrugged, well aware he was saying things that could easily be construed from purely philosophical and musing, to mutinous. Not that he was in any way shape or form set up for anything even close to mutiny. He was nobody with nothing but his own thoughts. Of course he had too many of them and they spilled out when he opened his mouth.

Emoyan sighed slightly, and fingered the gutter of the book. "I was afraid of that. An extra person would ruin the whole point of the trip. Two people make twice as much noise as one does, after all." But he was grateful for Ka'aen's continued honesty. "Thanks, though. I think I'll just try and catch what I can from here. I'm not looking to go sticking my head up far enough to get noticed. Given where I used to stand, they probably would think I was up to no good."

[Avu]

Well maybe, maybe not.

Either way, Ka’aen was not going to argue when the current big bad leader was his big bad leader. Pull out from under him and you had the entire Weyr balancing on a needlepoint and they couldn’t do that, not unless they were willing to hand over control to anybody, Selenitas or Benden or Fort. And anyway—it wasn’t like anyone ever considered themselves the villain. You did what you had to do, or what you thought you had to do, and that was enough. There would always be someone who hated you and thought you were a horrible person. All anyone could do was try to figure out whose opinion of them would be the most painful.

None of which he really had the words for or even the desire to say. It was probably one of those things that sounded flat and foolish out loud and just—not worth going there. Instead Ka’aen shrugged apologetically, a wry smile curling at the corner of his mouth, “Likely.” Which was true enough. Guards were chosen for a reason, and Ka’aen really thought that reason was downright paranoia. He’d never have qualified for guard duty. Flying sweeps, sure, but every Rider did that—guard duty was something else entirely and yeah, never him. Never had been chosen for the Hatching massacre either, though, thank Faranth. Interrogator backgrounds didn’t seem to really get you many jobs.

Ka’aen stood, dusting off his pants absently and wincing at the crack of his knees. He should probably do something later. Like stretch. Or run. None of which he would ever actually do, of course, but it was the thought that counted, right? “I’ll quit bothering you now,” he said wryly, and smiled, stuck out his hand to shake a brief good-bye, the gesture automatic and polite. “You’re welcome to drop by the Candidate barracks or lessons or whatever. The lesson plans are posted up in the common room or you could hunt me down or something.”

It wasn’t a job and it wasn’t even really an offer for friendship (superficial relationships were much easier than true friendship lately, and that was really fine) but it was as much as Ka’aen could give. Emoyan seemed like a genuinely nice man and being stripped of a job had to suck. If he wanted to hang out with Candidates, taste of the old times minus the stress, that was fine with Ka’aen.

[dragon]

Emoyan looked up at Ka'aen when the bluerider stood, and did wince sympathetically at the sound of those knees cracking. Ow, just ow. But then he did smile slightly. "It was no bother." He answered in return, accepting the hand. "And I just might do that."

It was so strange, to have an invader be so seemingly nice. Emoyan couldn't help but wonder if there was something behind it. Some underhanded reason or purpose. But, the reason why he'd moved to Selenitas in the first place was he didn't like thinking thoughts like that. Could it be possible that their oppressors could be civil just for being civil's sake? Despite all the horrifying things they had done? Now that was a scary thought. If sane people could do the things that had been done ...

"Have a nice day." Emoyan bid, closing his book.