Conversation · Lilienne, the Net Picker

Yeah, maybe steer clear of the things reminding her of the 'floater' she used to be married to. Just saying.

"Drugs? I need info on this. Major narc." (Point to yourself.)

"Don't have any," she replies with a shrug. "Those get cleaned out so fast even the local bums can only stand by and watch with watery mouths. Always by strangers too. Union folk don't stand this kind of stuff around here."

You could use a hit right about now. Any hit really. Feel that itch in your hands, the stiffness of your neck? That strange restlessness in your bones?

He's right, bratan! You're descending and you need to climb higher. Soar on the wings of your spirit hawk. Or just do a line... whatever, right? Not a biggie.

"This place looks bad. Why don't you leave?"

"And go where? The fish are plentiful here and we get enough orders to get by. It's not great, but it's something."

"Just, somewhere..." (Close your eyes.) "Away from all this sadness."

"People imagine picking up and finding something better is an easy solution. But how is that supposed to work, when all your time and energy goes to staying alive? You have almost nothing to set aside to actually fight your way out."

Hordes of wild homeless people roaming the lands, nomads scattered across an endless plain in a dystopian world where tare is the only valid currency... and people eat each other to stay alive.

"I don't mean to complain about my pauper life. We are warm and fed here and..." She smiles faintly and plucks some seaweed out of the net. "I don't know, there's just something about this shit hole."

A sudden gust of cold air blows in from the sea. The waves flow and ebb, around you the fishing village takes its slow and steady breaths... its many wooden structures worn by bitter years of salt and storm.

Why would anyone like it here?

It's home.

Shake off the stupor.

Even at the worst of times, Revachol cares for its inhabitants.

"I understand what you're saying. It could be worse elsewhere."

"Exactly." She tries to smile and reaches in her net. "I don't mean to complain about my sad pauper life. We do manage alright. We're tough people here."

She would like to complain. She would like that very much. But she can't and she won't. 'Though' has gotten her this far and she's not giving it up.

"You just gotta follow the work, that's where the money sleeps."

"Oh, but of course -- why didn't I think of that?" She rolls her eyes. "Look, I have mouths to feed and as much as I'd like a change, I... they need stability first."

"Anywhere with better opportunities."

"Okay. Enough about this place."

"Yeah..." She smiles, slowly shaking her head. "That's what I tell myself every morning."

"A mine? The RCM could use a mine. Where is it?"

"Well, the RCM has to wait for another one, cause some army folks came by, took it in the middle of the bay and blew it up." She spits over the railing. "The blast was surprisingly timid for such a huge spiky thing."

Spikey? Must have been a naval contact mine.

"I never thought the sea brought in anything particularly interesting."

"Wood. Pieces of glass. Every once in a while we see dead bodies -- human, animal, fish, other odd sea creatures. A mine washed ashore, once..."

"Bottles. Drugs, also. Lost cargo in general." She looks at the beach. "But most of the time, it's just wood and glass."

"Interesting. What have you found?"

"Alright, I think I get it. Let me ask you something else."

"Fine by me." She brushes her hair aside, waiting for you to speak.

"What else?"

"I sell the fish to people in the Delta to serve at their fancy restaurants. Authentic Insulindian cuisine."

"I'm looking for someone, maybe you can help?"

"Let's see," she tilts her head ever so slightly. "Who are you looking for?"

"I was asked to get your signature." (Hand her Evrart's envelope.)

"Were you?" Her eyes dart back and forth on the paper. "Hmm... this says by signing I agree to living with construction noise. What exactly is the Union building?"

"Evrart's planning to turn some of the village into a youth centre."

"What a nice idea. Wouldn't have thought that..." Her voice trails off.

She sounds incredulous about the niceness of the idea.

"On second thought, don't sign the papers."

"Aye, if you say so." She plucks on her net. "Probably better that way. I mean -- who likes construction noise?"

"Thought what exactly?"

"That Evrart and the Union have nice plans for anything. I thought they only cared about themselves." She shakes her head. "Well, I guess Union members have children too."

... and those members have a vote, when electing the head of the local chapter.

"Be seeing you." [Leave.]

"Is that your boat?" (Point at the overturned boat.)

"Sure is. The Sun I call her. Coated with a fresh layer of tar just yesterday. It'll take some time for it to dry, assuming the sunny days continue."

"Sunny days?" (Put your hand in the rain.)

"Aye." She looks at the rain circles on the water. "Sunny days. You got a problem with that?"

"No, ma'am. We have no quarrel with sunny days."

"Good. 'Twould have been bad news had it turned out it wasn't a sunny day. Bad news for the skiff. Bad news for the nets. Bad news for the kids."

There's a moment's silence. She looks at the rain streaming down the yellow belly of the boat.

"Khm... I wanna ask you something else."

"Go right ahead." She looks at you, head slightly tilted.

"When do you think the boat will be ready?"

"In time," she replies with a nod and adds: "When the sea turns and the winds settle she will be ready."

Waves wash the sand. A skiff moves across the mirror-smooth sea, far away from here. A lone passenger. A fast sloop in the distance. White sails.