2017-08-04: Words Travel For Free

From Dream Chasers
Jump to navigation Jump to search
  • Log: Words Travel For Free
  • Cast: Loren Voss, Gwen Whitlock, Cardia Ortell
  • Where: Hilton
  • Date: August 4th 2017
  • Summary: As instructed, Loren and Cardia make contact with the courier Gwen Whitlock and pass on some 'information'.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

It's another bright, sunny day on the Silver Coast. Overhead, seagulls glide through the air and, occasionally, scream. In fact, speaking of the birds, a few by the docks are busily squabbling with one another (and some pigeons and random birds) over what looks to be part of someone's sandwich. With travel in this part of the world cut down -- at least as far as overseas-to-Elru traffic goes -- the docks themselves are quieter than they might have been in another year.

Still, there's fisheries trade. And where there's trade of any kind, there's need for a courier.

"I wonder if she'll show," 'Thomas', most definitely a normal medical student from Bledavik, mutters to the woman at his side, gaze hooded as he lingers outside the office here. Another year, and it would be bustling with foot traffic and practically impossible to get in the door. Right now...

Not dead, but not exactly as healthy as it would have been.

Loren folds his arms over his chest, and glances away. It's funny. He's seen images of the sea before, but nothing had prepared him for the real thing.

There's the smell, for one, which he's not certain counts as pleasant or unpleasant.

Right now, he's attempting to look out for (or nearly so) a certain young woman. Orders are orders: he needs to find Gwen Whitlock and make contact.

He shifts, as if uncomfortable, against the wall. Intelligence had suggested she might be heading to Hilton on delivery, but...

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

It takes some time, but eventually, that intelligence pays off. The distinctively grey and black Gulliver is trotting at an even pace down the streets, the covered wagon pulled behind him with Gwen sitting in the driver's seat, her horse's reigns held securely in her hands.

Urging Gulliver to a stop beside a stand, the redheaded courier gets off, dusting her jeans and giving the horse a reassuring, confident couple of pets along his back. "Good boy, don't worry, we'll get ya yer feed soon. Just hold on for a bit longer. Okay? Good, good. Good boy."

The old man at the stand, a fisherman whose weathered face has seen many salty hurricanes, ambles out to greet her them, engaging in pleasantries about the state of the weather, the ocean, his knees, the fishing, and just about anything else that would matter to him. Which isn't much.

"You should really see a doctor about those knees! I'm not kiddin'. I'm sure a tough guy like you could take a few pokes and prods." Gwen hauls out a crate from the back, holding it evenly between her hands. "Should I set it over there? Or- okay, yeah, that works! Don't want ya bendin' over to pick this up with those knees o' yours. Nah, nah, it ain't too heavy for me. It's my job." The hevay wooden crate is placed over a sturdy table and opened, the fisherman looking through the various supplies within. "Y'said you had some salt you wanted me to carry into Adlehyde, right? I appreciate the donation; that'll help a lot with preserving the meat n' fish supplies. I'll be takin' it over from here. Don't worry about donatin' fish. I know the catch's been poor this year. You need to support your family."

On and on, the conversation goes, the old man grateful for the back and forth and the break from the day to day. "I'll be comin' back once I make that trip. I'm certain the fish available this ways'd be pretty attractive to those in Port Timney and Lacour." Then, as the exchange is finished, she waves and sets off, manually guiding her horse and wagon to the tavern right across the office where 'Carde' and 'Thomas' sit now. "Guess what I got for youuu~" Gulliver is surprised with a yellow apple, dappled in shades of red. "Got one extra~. Bet you're hungry, aren't you..."

THIS IS THE WOMAN KAHM THOUGHT WOULD WORK

<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.

'I'm going soft,' Cardia Ortell thinks to herself.

Standing at Loren's side, her eyes tilted up to the blue clear sky and lids squinted just enough to keep the light from the sun over yonder-- she'd never look directly at it, of course-- from blinding her, the gray-haired young woman adjusts her hat with a gloved hand before letting her shoulders rise and fall with a deep sigh.

It's a little metallic, but she restrains herself from vocalizing too much quite admirably; she's careful to only ever speak when she's certain that she's alone with her companion, and even then it's at a clipped cadence. The sea air isn't bad, but it makes her feel a little weird. Maybe she should have some maintenance done...

Wearing her beaten duster, shirt, pants, and the red muffler that blocks sight of most of her throat, the silent drifter Carde looks back down, glancing over at Thomas before pulling out a small book and jotting down a note:

'Don't worry about it.'

Eventually, there's Whitlock. Sober, too, and Carde is quick to appraise the skinny rail of a girl again with their last encounter in the back of her mind.

This. This is the woman Kahm thought would work.

Carde tilts her hat forward to an even sit on her head, glancing at Thomas before nodding her head toward the courier.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

A questioning glance turns 'Carde's way as she starts to write something down. Moments later, a note's passed to Loren, which he skims.

And if there was ever a look that could speak volumes, this would be the one. In this case, it's something along the lines of a semi-weary 'really?'. Complete with an abreviated eyeroll.

Folding up the notecard, he tucks it away into a pocket. Might as well ask him to stop breathing. Until this business is done, of course he's going to low-key worry about wasting Solaris' precious time.

But eventually, eventually...

There is Whitlock, matching the description precisely. Actually, he thinks he's seen her before -- the girl Elly was chatting with?

This is the woman Kahm thought would work. Not much to look at.

But he does recall a few of van Houten's reports which named the girl. Not much to look at, but she does have a trick up her sleeve. So to speak.

He shares a glance with Cardia, then pulls away from where they've been waiting for a very, very long time.

"Excuse me."

Gwen, mid-apple-presentation, will end up with a sudden nerd interrupt.

"Would you happen to heading in the direction of Adlehyde? I'm Thomas Blackwell, previously of Bledavik. I... overheard your conversation."

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

Gulliver eyes the deliciously plump looking apple, its crisp skin shining in the afternoon light. He extends his neck and head, his mouth moving to grasp onto that firm, juicy surface-

'Excuse me.'

The apple seems to disappear from just beyond Gulliver's mouth's grasp, pulled away by a turning Gwen, who looks towards the source of the voice. "Bledavik? My, my, you're a ways away from home!" She smiles broadly. "And yes indeedy, I am makin' a stop by there from here, provided I don't get any delays from any, uh, unfortunate delays."

"Did the Emerson boys give you trouble again?" The fisherman from earlier, now joined by a similarly aged woman, break into the conversation briefly. "If I was their mom, I'd tell to stop givin' their grandpa such trouble. Ain't nobody who really wants to come when y'got bandits on the road."

Gwen winces slightly, then chuckles. "W-well, I guess I just... missed em'?"

She missed on purpose. With her ARM. That counts as telling the truth, right?

The fisherwoman sighs, waving a hand. "They're a bunch of scaredy cats. If you see them, tell em' if they don't come home soon that that I'll give them a good ear-boxin' for all the trouble they've caused. You be safe now, y'hear?" The fisherwoman, now beginning to walk away, leans in towards 'Thomas' and whispers loudly, smelling of ocean water and fresh fish. "She's a good 'un."

Gwen, for the most part, presses the apple back under Gulliver's saddened mouth... and spots Carde. Wait. Isn't she...? She seems... awfully familiar...

"Er, sorry about that, Mr. Blackwell," Gwen says, looking back. "Y'need something delivered there? I've cut my fees for cargo goin' there, and I'd be more than happy to deliver anything you need."

<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.

He gives her a look. While his eyes roll at her confidence (optimism?), her mouth quirks into an oddly-angled line while her eyes drift straight up again, letting a silent breath-- a wordless version of 'ugh'-- slip past her lips.

No matter their personal stances, Carde stays almost in-step with Thomas, but never gets in his way; while he may be 'in charge,' she is the one that conveys the presence of being the muscle. Thomas being a totally normal, regular medical student probably helps convey this.

She's taking the mental cliff notes-- delays, taking on local gangs and bandits. 'Emerson' boys.

Gwen will deliver anything they need, you see? With a friendly pat against Thomas' arm and a happy shrug, Carde gives a very 'I told you so' sort of nod.

She might be choosing to be so friendly it's going to make Loren complain the whole ride home.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

Loren pulls an expression that -- on a largely unemotive face like his (pointed looks aside) -- almost, almost seems like it's approaching a frown. A long way from home, indeed. "Yes... I suppose you could say that," he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. His gaze tilts somewhat more intent than before, as if this were a problem. "...Unexpected delays? Such as?"

Well, bandits, it seems. It's a wonder this half of Ignas hasn't fallen apart if this is the sort of lawlessness taking place on the very roads.

'She's a good 'un,' the fishwife says, and Loren has to work very, very hard not to take a breath when she leans in. These people already do not bathe enough. The fish smell, close up, is not a good addition.

Under her suspiciously friendly (to him, anyway) pat, Loren stiffens slightly.

She's doing this on purpose, isn't she.

"This is Carde, an associate," he says, and not without a touch of quasi-weariness. The way someone might around an old friend and not a military comrade who is doing something specifically to tick them off.

He pauses, readjusting his glasses as he looks Gwen over. "You look young for this kind of work." Which is a heck of a thing for someone who definitely looks not even twenty to say, but, he's actually going somewhere with this, this time. "What did you say your name was?"

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

"W-well," Gwen hesitates, waving to the old couple before moving in closer to mutter to the two associates. "I met those guys. I scared em' off, but I kinda did it a little too well, so I wanted to play dumb, y'know? So don't tell anybody, 'kay?"

'Don't tell anyone' she says, to a pair of people she's never met before.

Wait. Wait. Carde.

Gwen's smile droops. "I think I... know you from somewhere." She squints, then leans back on the back of her heels slightly, a pale complexion dawning on her face.

Oh no. NOW SHE REMEMBERS.

"You're... the person I'd... and we'd... and then-" A finger shakily raises, pointing towards Cardia as Gwen's shoulders behind to slump downwards. "Oh Guardians, I'm REALLY sorry, Miss Carde. Like, reallyREALLY sorry, I totally shouldn't have drank that much, or, uh, arm wrestled you, or- ghh..." She wavers slightly, pressing a hand to her forehead. "That was so embarrasin'! I usually don't get that bad, I swear! It's just that one bottle just snuck up on me like some sorta alcoholic assassin, and before I knew it, I was pretty much out."

She pauses, then smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. "Oh right, y'don't talk, right? Well, uh, I guess, let's just say I owe you a favor now for your trouble, eh?"

Looking to Loren, Gwen beams, running a hand through her hair, the motion knocking her hat off. "Bah, I can't be any older than you, and you look to be quite the professional. Th'name is Gwen Whitlock, super courier. If there's a place I can get to with a horse and a smile, I can get your package there."

She likes that motto. She thinks she'll keep it. Or maybe she should add 'a horse, a wagon, and a smile'? Wait, maybe that'd be too long-

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

She scared them off. Loren raises an eyebrow.

Coupled with his fairly deadpan expression, it might seem skeptical. This would be an accurate assessment in most circumstances, but suffice to say, Loren knows a few little details about the courier, which makes her claim not... impossible.

But this is one case where perhaps his honest reaction -- intrigue actually -- coming off flat helps rather than hurts.

"I wouldn't worry about it," the totally normal medical student says, mentally filing away this note for later.

He glances then sidelong at Cardia, as Gwen and her apparently...

"I didn't know you already met," he says.

There might be judgement there, however slight, as Gwen continues to explain the how.

Definitely judgement.

He exhales a slow breath and folds his arms over his chest. 'Can't be much older than he is', is it... Great.

But he still nods. "Miss Whitlock, then. Your service was recommended to me by someone else, a man I met by the name of Rider. It would seem the both of you are acquaintances." He pauses long enough to close his eyes a moment. "We had something we wanted transported to Adlehyde to help with the rebuilding there. ...Do you travel that way often? I understood the road has grown dangerous with the king's passing and the princess' disappearance. There have been a number of rumors, actually..."

He pauses again, glancing to one side as if conspiratorally this time. Unfolding his arms, 'Thomas' takes a step closer to her.

"I'd even heard that the aristocracy has fallen under the sway of a cult in the princess' absence. ...Adlehyde isn't my home, but it really is a shame to see a nation end up like this..."

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

JUDGMENT, says the generally manner of Loren. Ah, the scholarly type *would* perhaps see her actions as uncouth, even as unintentional and well-meaning as they are. Or maybe the JUDGMENT was towards Carde, for getting involved in such a terrible display of manners?

At the mention of Marcus's name, Gwen's eyes light up in recognition. She nods. "Ah, yeah, Mr. Rider! Yeah, we've been in contact over a few things. I take it you two are acquaintances with him as well?" She slowly smiles. "Well, if you two are as good a bunch of clients as he is, then there shouldn't be any trouble. What can I do f'you?"

Listening to Loren's description of the errand he needs down, Gwen nods eagerly, touching a few fingers of one gloved hand to her chin. "Indeed, I make a great deal many deliveries that way, especially donations. I could certainly do a discount on my rates if you're doin' this as a donation, if you like..." She trails off at the mention of rumors, of disappearing princesses and dangerous roads.

Rumors of a cult, even. "A cult, y'say?" He probably is referring to Althena's Guard, most likely, but Gwen makes a decision to play, for the most part, dumb, if only to not possibly lose the guise of neutrality. "I've heard of some groups comin' in to help, but I didn't know about any influence those groups may've had over the aristocracy. Indeed, I could imagine that if the princess was there, it probably make things mighty difficult for her to say one thing versus another...."

Cecilia. Surely, it'd do well to maybe... keep an eye on her, wouldn't it? Someone with as kind a heart as hers, enough to try to soothe the heart of an anonymous drunk Drifter when, by all rights, she should be the one mourning?

Such people could get eaten alive. Rudy as well.

The brief twinge of concern in Gwen's lips are enough. The bait is taken. The hook snags. Loren hits home on the first try.

"What else have you possibly heard?"

<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.

'I didn't know you already met.'

Carde's smile is lofty, a big curve of her lips. Pointing between herself and Gwen first, she follows this up with one hand out as though holding a glass, then pantomimes pouring from a bottle into it and tossing back drinks. Sure, she may have held back a few details from her encounter, but she wanted to be sure about what was happening, first-- no need to set off alarm bells and pull the team in more directions than needed.

While it may not seem like it gives Cardia much, playing the part of the silent one allows her to listen to a lot-- not just what's spoken, but what isn't spoken. The way Gwen stands, the way she conducts herself from her bright and happy motto to the seriousness of the information exchange. Those intense blue eyes, scarred on the lids and edges, hood halfway as she looks thoughtful while Loren moves on to the business of cults; the absence of the Princess.

The question of 'what else have you heard' causes Cardia-- Carde-- frowns. The concern is, if anything, a well-placed and well-acted display to keep the delivery girl buying into the act of a medical student and a silent companion.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

Cardia mimes drinking.

Cardia mimes drinking several drinks.

Loren gives her a look that might be best subtitled 'are you for real' or something similar.

And of course he sighs. Long-sufferingly.

It's not an act, technically speaking, but it probably doesn't hurt appearances here!!

"We've met," Loren says simply on the matter of 'Mister Rider', a statement that is not actually a lie at all, technically speaking.

Perhaps he's not a master manipulator like some might be in their ranks, but he knows when -- and how -- to detail things as little as possible. Let the other person fill in the blanks you've provided. If you've done your job well, it might even be the answer you were nudging them towards anyway.

To wit: "Oh, good. Yes, this is a donation," Loren confirms. "Some staples and medicine. ...I was a volunteer in the refugee camps after the attack. It was the least I could do," he says, coupling the comment with a lazy shrug, as if it's what anyone would have done with the right skills. "Unfortunately, I had to head north," he adds, as if to explain why he's not there, "But I was able to gather a few items to send back south."

The gaps here are again, ideally plasible.

And the conversation tilts towards the current events in Adlehyde.

"I doubt they would have as much sway as they have now if she were -- assuming the story is true," he adds, shrugging as if to suggest that 'it's all just hearsay'. "Still, there were some suspicious people around even in the aftermath of the invasion. It seemed a little too well-timed to me..."

He shakes his head. "I won't be able to know one way or another, though," he says, as if in reference to some chain of events left unstated. He glances at Cardia, then nods curtly. "At least I have some backup now."

And then Gwen, who appears to be... interested now, asks him what else he's heard.

"This and that." He shrugs again, affecting well detached interest. "There was a rumor circulating in Lacour during the tournament that the cult planned had even planned the invasion from the start, or enabled it, or something like that... Something about that miasma near Port Timney, I think."

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

Suspicious people around, even in the aftermath of the invasion. It goes without saying, really, especially when it was unclear just how many Metal Demons had infiltrated Adlehyde society, or how many were trying to make some sort of a new life in nearby Old Petra.

Gwen gives Carde a sheepish grin as the agent mimics tipping one glass, then another... then another. "It was kinda embarrassin' t'me too, y'know? I've been abstainin' since then, though, and my track record'll show that I'm serious about my job." Getting any whiff of being a drunkard would be nasty for the reputation, after all.

But it's moments like these that allow Carde a possible window into just how Gwen acts and reacts in a normal flow of conversation, free from any influence of the alcohol sort. She's certainly just as friendly, but there's no real show of her strength (outside of admitting what happened to those bandits), or, for that matter, any dominant posture or manner. It took only a look of disapproval for Gwen to respond, the same as any business person would be naturally expected to.

Which could be a good sign that she can actually take cues when she isn't drunk. ie 'please do not arm wrestle me'.

"Alright. I'll just be charging a flat fee to cover my costs, but nothin' more. Got some things to take that way as it is, so you're in luck." Gwen takes out a small billboard and a pencil, marking some things down in some rather surprisingly tidy handwriting. She accepts Loren's explanation at face value; there's no reason to see his story as anything but what he said.

"I suppose you'd probably be right." Gwen doesn't elaborate on the details, for Cecilia's own sake. "Even if they might have good intentions, there's a reason for the sayin' 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions'. I doubt they intend anything horrible, but unyieldin' beliefs plus maybe a few of them thinkin' 'the ends justify the means' could mean trouble. White Knight Leo seems to be a decent guy, but a really stubbornly black n' white kinda guy. There's probably a lotta push n' pull between all the groups tryin' to carve out some influence in the wake of the king's passing."

Which is why it's even more important to maybe keep an eye on Cecilia. Lucia has Hiro, Jean, Lemina, and others to protect her. Cecilia, if she's separated from the castle's influence...

"Now, why y'think they had somethin' to do with that?" Gwen encourages, tilting her head. "I thought they were against that whole miasma, even tryin' to find the source."

Which is, in itself, part of the problem.

<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.

She is legitimately enjoying this now.

Maybe Myyah's on to something with all this unfailing politeness and smiling, even if it means other people want to drive their head into a wall. At the very least, she's putting on a good show for Gwen. A good enough show that the woman starts apologizing about it, leading the Solarian to lift up one of her gloved hands and shake her head. A finger points to her own chest, then up to the grin she maintains, then the catch-all, international symbol of acceptance: A thumbs-up.

These are goods and supplies for Adlehyde. The gray-haired woman nods almost enthusiastically. Taking out her notebook, she jots down a quick message, then lifts the book turned for Gwen to read: 'Hope we won't overload you too much.'

Gwen also gives up a name: White Knight Leo. A note is made in the back of her mind to see what she can pull up on whoever he is as soon as they make it back to the base.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

"Just don't do it again," 'Thomas' sighs, resisting somehow the urge to roll his eyes. Technically that's aimed at Gwen, but as a sidelong look tells, yes, that's aimed at Cardia too.

Truth be told, he doesn't care if she drinks so much she falls off her cart sometimes... just as long as he's not riding with her at the time.

Good news, Loren uses a cover story that only vaguely requires a different personality than the one he's got.

"That sounds fine. I'll handle the expenses. Fortunately, I had some good luck lately." Again, he doesn't elaborate, so it's anyone's guess if he's implying he bet well on the fights, got a stipend from a local school for whatever, or just went ruins-crawling.

Luck, if you can call it that. "It seems I've had all the luck lately," he says, dryly.

"Who knows. Many people think they're only doing what's right or justified, but..." 'Thomas' speculates, without a trace of irony.

"Are they?" 'Thomas' asks, lifting an eyebrow as he attempts this time to affect muted surprise. As if he hadn't heard such a thing before. This is all news to him.

In truth, he actually does know, at least to an extent. One of their number was even able to purge the effects of Malevolence, or so it was said.

But better here for Gebler's purposes to let the Lamb assume that he knows nothing.

"I wouldn't know one way or another," he says, punctuating the statement with a slight shrug. "But that's the story going around. Weakening Adlehyde before the invasion..."

And going around it is, thanks to Kahm's speech in the coliseum... but it didn't hurt to give it a nudge. Couriers travel, they talk to people. Time to make sure that story doesn't fade.

White Knight Leo. Where has he heard that name before...

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

'Just don't do it again.'

Carde may see that flash of irritation and slight curiosity that flickers in Gwen's blue grey eyes before it's quickly subdued. In terms of a stranger telling her that, it wouldn't be quite as strange if it was someone much older than her, or someone who was of a notable difference in class.

Loren seems neither of these things. Well-dressed, to be sure, but not someone of a high rank that is used to giving orders. The fact that he may have intended it for both of them is not accounted for just yet.

Her immediate annoyance is filed away as she simply smiles and chuckles. "I assure you, I'm quite capable of chaperonin' myself," she jokes lightly. "Like I said, my record would speak for itself."

And she moves on quickly, ever the quick businesswoman, jotting some more notes onto the paper on her clipboard. "Lucky, eh? You seem to be the sort that makes their own luck."

Reading Carde's note, Gwen chuckles. "Nah, nah, this ain't nothin'. Now, if we're talking a statue, that'd be somethin' else." Turning the clipboard around to hand to either one of them, the courier marks some spots with a circle with her pencil. "Usually I'd be a bit more loose about this, but I wanna make sure I got a record of everythin' comin' in for donations. Just write down what yer donatin', the quantity, etc."

The practice may not be odd in itself, which is why Gwen takes no pains to hide this part. There are other parts she ponders about keeping secret, to avoid the messy thorny vines of politics to wrap around this strange project of Noah and Morgan's.

"That's just the way the world works," she comments idly, "I don't think a single soul really does a thing just to be 'evil', even if it'd be plenty easier if we can throw people in such black n' white camps. It's what makes the world a dangerous place, really. But." She looks up, tapping the pencil's end to her chin. "Certainly would be a boring world if everyone was just one thing or another, wouldn't it? But eh, you didn't sign up for a courier's opinion of Life in General."

'Seis Thurule''s speech did not go unnoticed by Gwen, something that may be evident by how it colors her reaction. "I personally don't think it was intended, whatever their effect. But again, like I say about good intentions n' all. A force like that wouldn't just lay low when people were sufferin', but I don't doubt they'd use any good will they gain to get what they're after. That's how those things go. I don't doubt the Black Ties doin' the same thing, even if their wants and the scale of those wants are gonna be entirely different."

It's just how the world works. The Metal Demons provide an easy foe due to the lack of connections they have as a whole with the rest of society. The more connections a group has, the more powerful they can potentially be.

A courier stands in the crossroads of all those connections. Maybe, Gwen wonders, would that lead her into a unique sort of danger, sooner or later?

Maybe it's good to not think too hard over it all.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

To be frank, Gwen is neither the first nor the last person that Loren has off-handedly (or deliberately) annoyed or pissed off.

It's a talent.

There are a long laundry list of comments Loren could say -- wants to say, momentarily -- in response to Gwen's easy comments that she won't let it happen again. That she can monitor herself just fine.

He's not trying to piss her off this time. So instead, he says a more ambiguous, "So it seems."

Though that's possibly just as bad, if you come at it from the right angles.

Loren takes the clipboard first, glancing over the form. Taking the offered pencil as well, he hesitates a moment before completing the designated sections, then hands both back. "It's better to have an inventory," he comments. "Otherwise, someone could slip any number of things into the goods you transport and you'd never be the wiser."

This is also said without the slightest twinge of irony.

It's not the goods she should be concerned about in this case, anyway. It's the 'information' that's being passed along and that travels for free.

It's not a large shipment, about what someone could set some money aside for over a few weeks if they had some sort of steady income. He'd been careful about that part.

Just some long-lasting ration-type foods, and some probably much-needed medical supplies. Mundane, ordinary, and purhased at local supply shops in Hilton.

"The package's inside," he says, gesturing towards the shipment building with a nod of his head. "They gave us assistance with closing them up so they avoid unnecessary damage."

Evil, probably not, Loren considers privately, his gaze refocusing to a point somewhere between himself and Gwen. Foolish and dangerous, though? Yes. "I suppose it's a complex situation," he says, opting for once for a more diplomatic -- since the alternative would absolutely sink their mission goals at present -- when responding to Gwen's comment.

No, he really didn't sign up for her opinion here. But he wisely keeps that thought to himself.

She certainly doesn't have the mind for appropriate skepticism, he considers to himself as Gwen Pollyannas her way past the speculation that this business with the cleansing had all been a setup by the Church of Althena.

Well, there's no helping it.

"That seems to be the common assessment in the rumors I heard," he comments. "That it's a bid to gain good will," he clarifies. This is a little blunter than he would prefer, but he figures he might need to aim for blunt here.

"In any case, as I said, it's all just speculation," he says, reaching up to readjust his glasses. "I suppose you could find out first-hand yourself. It's a pity. The camps were in bad shape when I was last assisting..."

<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.

Carde looks a little lost as the politics of the Guard come into question, her shoulders shifting while she looks away from the pair as they talk and handle forms. It's hard to say if Loren would recognize it as an act; the Lieutenant meanders a few steps from Gwen and Thomas with the full intent to just stare at the courier's horse as though she's attempting to communicate with it.

In silence.

But make no mistake: She's listening. With sharp ears and keen awareness.

Twisting slightly to look back at the pair, Carde taps on her own sleeve to make just enough noise to get the courier's attention. A finger points at her eyes, then she sweeps two fingers back and forth as if to say, 'keep your eyes open.' 'Stay sharp.'

Then, a thumbs-up, because that always seals the deal.

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

"It's definitely to gain good will."

Gwen's reply is just as blunt as Loren's. "They can't get anything done unless they gain legitimacy among Adelhyde. N' they wouldn't be the only group to do so. They'll probably be the ones most successful at it too."

There's a flicker of Gwen's underlying feelings regarding the matter as she reflexively turns towards Cardia and Gulliver instead of Loren, a hand rubbing the side of her head to block Loren's view.

Her words alone may be enough to point out the underlying weave of emotions: the suspicion, the fear, the hope. Her want to believe that it'll lead to nothing serious. Cardia may see it, if she chances a look up.

Despite not being drunk as a skunk at the current moment, Gwen finds herself more attracted towards dealing with the quiet Cardia, for better or worse. Moving to Gulliver, Gwen takes out a carrot, offering it to Cardia. "Wanna feed him? He'll be your friend for life."

Looking up towards Loren as he speaks, then back at Cardia as she contributes to the conversation, Gwen frowns, her lips form inga sedate line. "The refugee camps? Huh... How long ago was this? I'll have to figure out what happened." Gwen looks to the shipment building, and back. "I know a few people that can check things out. When I take your shipment in, I'll tell them that I heard someone had some bad experiences. They ain't the Guard, so don't worry. Are there any details you feel able to give me?"

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

His glance slides -- briefly -- sidelong towards Cardia as she apparently wanders aimlessly away from her position at his side. What's she up to, he wonders vaguely, his attention returning to the surface-dweller he's speaking to in the moment after.

Well, it might be nothing, or more likely it might be she sees something he doesn't. Loren might not be the most trusting person around, but even he's sure that someone like Cardia wouldn't attempt to blatantly do something untoward on a subterfuge mission. And she does have more experience where a certain set of skills are concerned than he does.

By which he means an awareness for the dangers of the surface in this case, and not a deft hand at the murder.

He'll leave the situation to her, whatever it is.

"That would be a pity," he answers Gwen, watching her expression in the moments before she turns, robbing him of whatever further story her face would tell him. "...I had read a little bit about Adlehyde's history when I was staying in town before it was destroyed. Fascinating, really. It's a shame," he adds, as if to suggest 'and it's all for naught'.

Particularly if their heir apparent continues to remain lost.

"The camps? Some time ago." Months, to be honest. "Even besides the obvious problems," homelessness, hunger, injuries, "I remember one patient telling me that a friend of theirs," more links in the chain make for plausible deniability down the line, especially where rumors are concerned, "who the Guard refused to treat unless he converted. Maybe your contacts might know more about that..."

<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.

Mysterious Drifter Carde, the cool lady with cool eyes and cool strength and-- brought down by a horse. It's cute, to be honest, even if it's a weird surface-dwelling animal.

Lifting her hands, the young woman shakes her head in a polite-- if defeated-- sort of way. Getting grain dust and horse spit and lord knows what else out of her joints will take hours with a scrub brush and an air canister. Instead slipping her hands into her long jacket, Carde paces back over to Gwen and Loren, falling into a flanking position behind the latter; he's the boss and she's the muscle, after all.

They refused to treat someone unless they converted. Cardia frowns at this, shaking her head sadly. It's so unfortunate that people have to act like that.

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

Gwen's grey blue gaze flicks to Loren with another barely masked look of irritation. With a sigh, she runs a hand through her hair, the subconscious gesture knocking her hat back to hang about her back. "For someone so impressed with Adlehyde's past, you seem kinda dismissive of the people tryin' to build it all back up. They're tryin' their best. Folks like the Guard and the Black Ties have their reasons, but so does everyone when they help. The people of Adlehyde need help, but they've been doin' a lion's share of the rebuilding effort themselves."

Rubbing her face with one hand, Gwen sighs. "... Sorry. Just, it was a really tough time for all of them, y'know? They lost a lot, but that don't mean they can't rebuild. The Metal Demons do plenty of lookin' down on us; we really don't need t'be doin' any part of it oursel-"

'... who the Guard refused to treat unless he converted.' Gwen stops, and considers. Odd. While she was unsure of someone like Leo, Thessaly, or Garan being the sort to do that, there were others that could possibly do so. And didn't Hiro say that one of the Guard members went after him and his friends during the Adlehyde invasion? "I'll definitely pass it on. If it's true, the Guard can't be pullin' antics like that right now."

But why? Wouldn't their bigger goal be to capture Lucia? It could be a sign of something just as bad.

Cardia, meanwhile, has to deal with a different sort of foe: Gulliver's dark, soulful, horsey eyes, complete with dark lashes that flutter in a silent plea to the Solarian agent. His nostrils flare as the carrot stays in Gwen's hand, polite enough to at least wait to see which Person gives him the Food. At least, it turns out to be Gwen, who holds out the carrot with one hand, his mouth delicately closing over the offering to quietly chew on. "Anyway, y'all didn't sign up for the lecture, I reckon, so I apologize again. I'll take over from here, as long as you've signed the necessary documents."

Morgan will definitely hear about this, if she can manage to catch him.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

One eyebrow lifts. 'Thomas' straightens just that much as he regards her, clinically, as if she were some interesting new species rather than another person.

...Just like an academic, huh?

"...Of course the people need assistance, and of course beggars can't be choosers," he states, folding his arms across his chest. "But it shouldn't come at the price of their own future."

To be honest, Loren doesn't really care one way or another beyond regional stability concerns, but however -- if they'll even bother, if isn't judged to potentially cause a continent-wide disaster if it does collapse -- Adlehyde's fragility is salvaged is far beyond his level of involvement in the continent's affairs. He'll worry about his duties and orders, the ranking officers and planning can worry about the higher-level affairs.

"Who can say? I can't go back there now," 'Thomas' comments, gesturing outwards with one hand. He'll leave the exact 'reason' vague again, but if she digs, she'll find something.

He's had time to think about how to salvage his cover after the incident with Lily, and it's actually all worked out rather nicely, he thinks.

All the while watching on in silence as Gwen coaxes 'Carde' to feed the nice horse... and ends up having to do it herself.

Exhaling a sigh, he shakes his head.

Well, given the delicacy with some of her parts, and the problems of potentially introducing organics into the joints, he does actually understand why she might decline. Not to mention the problem if the animal bit a finger instead. That would take some explaining.

And so ultimately, when Gwen apologizes (again), Loren shrugs. "It isn't a problem," he says, diplomaticaly (for him). "As I said, the package is in the office, so if there's nothing else you need from us..."

He glances towards Cardia.

"...We should be on our way."

<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.

Stop it, horse. Don't use those horsey eyes on her like this.

Carde's mouth pulls into a bit of a frown, though not too wildly or deeply. It's unfortunate she doesn't want to pet the horse right now, but she'll live-- if she really needs to have some kind of break to commune with nature, she could always just ask Myyah for a few days off. It might end up turning into an adventure, but... she has other things to do right now.

But, with Thomas' talk with Gwen concluded, their papers signed, it's time for them to go. Carde mouths out a, 'thank you' while offering the courier a deep nod, mouth quirking in the faintest of polite smiles before she slips her hat back on and gives it an adjustment with a tap.

Then, a point at her eyes, then a point at Gwen before waving good-bye. See you later.