Participants:
| Scene Title | What Nature Provides |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Dequan reaches out to a group he deems worthy to offer his assistance. |
| Date | April 6, 2019 |
Once a week, generally, the people of Providence head to Red Hook Market to make trade in one form or another. Saturdays and Sundays the week's take in produce, furs, and scavenging are brought forward to exchange for other foods, other sundry goods. Kara Prince's most common contribution to these efforts is usually takes the form of providing transportation and security on arrival. She's standing beside the folding tables with crates of produce tilted outward to better display the goods. A chalk slate displays the pricing the Amish have decided on for today, nudged a half dollar up at Kara's suggestion.
Arms folded and dressed in dark colors, she looks the part of stony-faced security, keeping a close eye on comers and goers. Kara doesn't so much as sigh as she waits out the boring work, having very little to converse about with the people she accompanies. She exhausted all of her smalltalk go-to's on the way out.
The once a week display of delicious Providence wares, the furs and produce and what not has been being tracked. By other people who regularly visit the market, and so today there’s a certain tall plant loving fitness junkie who is approaching their stall.
He wears a fitted dark green t-shirt that fits across the chest and around his biceps, almost looking a size too small. But it works, tucked neatly into a pair of dark jeans, dark brown cowboy boots on his feet. Dequan’s long hair is currently pulled back into a single braid down his back as he is carrying two wooden crates stacked on each other. With him are a couple other people with similar builds and coloration also carrying some crates.
With a soft grunt he sets the crates down and idly cracks his neck. When he speaks, its a low almost rumbly tone, warm and drizzled with southern honey and seasoned with the gulf coast/Cajun color. “Ya’ll come to trade or just to put others to shame with the humility and purity of your offerings.”
He gives Kara a quick chin-up and pries the lid off the first crate. Inside, the bright orange of citrus fruit and the scent of oranges drifts into the air, as his dark graze sweeps over the tables and the goods displayed. He selects an orange and tosses it towards Kara.
Eyebrow arching, Kara catches the orange easily without looking down at it. The crates of other goods are eye-catching enough. Her hackles aren't raised at seeing the rarer goods come out and so close to theirs, but she's good at keeping her thoughts to herself regardless. Interesting, to see oranges around the smaller market and not at the super— that's as much as can be seen on her.
"Why," she asks Dequan as she looks to him, "You come up from down south for… carrots and broccoli?" The pause while she glances to confirm what the Providence folk have brought with them today. The leader of the Amish raises an eyebrow as he looks up at the crate-bearing traders, but Kara shakes her head to indicate she doesn't think there's need for him to be involved yet, tossing the orange from one hand to the other.
Dequan thumbs the side of his nose, studying Kara thoughtfully before glancing over towards the Amish leader and he bows his head politely to him as well. He looks over his shoulder at the other 3 men who have accompanied him and murmurs softly in another language, gesturing around the Market and they set their crates down as well before wandering off.
Folding his arms over his chest and just looks thoughtful, approaching the produce laid out and extending a hand to allow it to hover over various items. “There are people in this world who are in need of trade because they have squandered what they have. Greed leeching the natural resources and human corruption driving more destruction.”
Despite his accent, his enunciates clearly. “Then there are others who are in need of trade because despite their being wise stewards and respecting the bounty from the earth…the greed of others have created limitations for all. I happen to have great respect for this group of people.”
There is another respectful bow of his head to the Amish leader. “It's not much. Fruit, vegetables, some herbs.” He nods towards the crates. “My people have mentioned that you lot come regularly. Those worthy of our trade.” He nods towards the Amish vegetables. “We’ve only brought 5 crates. Oranges, Spinach, Radishes, Spring Onions, Strawberries. How much will that get us?”
The orange in Kara's hand pauses in its revolutions back and forth between hands when she understands Dequan really does mean to trade, blinking as she studies him… his intent.
She decides, for better or worse, that she trusts it for now. She looks back toward the Amish patriarch that's traveled with them, meeting his eyes and nodding before she looks back to Dequan. "I'm Kara." she greets stiffly. "This is Abram." The patriarch is indicated with a nod as he comes to join them.
He's got his hands clasped before him, regarding Dequan with a reserved but friendly, "Gute mariye." Abram looks over what has been brought for exchange, and in turn looks back at their own crates of goods before deciding and asiding to the Remnant munitions chaplain, "I do not think we will be here very long today, Kara." His accent is rough, the English he speaks something he's still growing into.
"Fine by me." she replies lightly. If they made the drive back already, at least it'd be for a good reason.
"We have about that much still," Abram explains with several thoughtful bobs of his head, looking everything over. "If you are open to equitable trade. Crate for crate."
Kara's eyes flick back to Dequan to see how he responds, her demeanor still reserved but sharp. She's had to look out for the group once or twice before to prevent a bad deal due to a silver tongue, or other misunderstandings. She's also had to put herself between them and an aggressive trader who didn't care to be declined. Dequan and his friends seemed down-to-earth, but she remains on guard for any fast pulls. They did drop their crates and wander off, after all.
If Dequan had a hat, he probably would’ve tipped it to the older gentleman. As it is, he just replies, “Dequan Silvercreek. A pleasure to make both your acquaintances.” He presses a hand to his chest and gives a little bow.
Now to business.
“Crate for crate.” He finally repeats the proposal, offering his hand to Abram with a firm nod. “The soil you grow these in, isn’t as iffy as the conditions I see from some other local traders. So I highly appreciate your willingness to part with a day’s worth of trade.”
A sweep of his arm gestures back towards the crates. “I can call my men back so they can help you load whatever vehicle you transport your goods in, it’s the least that we can do.”
No shiftiness in his stance or darting of eyes, his dark gaze rests steadily on Kara and Abram in turn, including them both in the discourse.
Kara arches an eyebrow at Dequan's assessment of their goods, her gaze still on him warily. "You can tell just by looking?" she asks dubiously, her doubt plain on her face as well. Clearly, she thinks he's still just trying to butter them up.
Abram, for his part, just smiles kindly. "You are parting ways with more than that, no?" All he has is everything he can give, but he still thinks the unusual variety Dequan offers to be of interest. "Where did you grow these?" he asks, then on considering what he's done, holds up his hands placatingly. "If it is all right." To ask, that is.
A warm rumble of a chuckle cut short by a low ‘mmhm’, comes from Dequan at Kara’s inquiry and he shrugs a shoulder. “I’m a bit of a connoisseur.” His pronunciation of that word hints to his familiarity with French. “After all, they were my least favorite growin’ up as a child.” He drawls roughly.
He gestures back towards the carrots and broccoli before carefully selecting a carrot and holding it loosely. “We’re parting ways with just enough.” But the question that gets asks makes him tilts his head a bit from one side to the other as if weighing it in his mind. “It’s fine to ask. The key to the growth doesn’t lie, my good sir, in the location that it is grown but rather in the quality of the seeds used. You see, teach a man to fish and he’ll eat for a lifetime in theory. But if the only lives beside bodies of water with very little fish population? Then maybe he could eat, but what of his family? Teach a man, how to make sure the fish breed and grow and multiply healthily regardless of river, lake, pond or sea?”
He takes a bite of the carrot with an audible crunch and bows his head, with a sweeping gesture towards the crates. “Well, lets just say he’ll never show up to a fish fry empty handed.”
The modest honesty of Dequan's initial reply earns him a hmph of amusement from Kara, who seems more open to him after that. Her weight shifts, body turning in his direction instead of remaining protectively tilted toward Abram. He's listening attentively as the other man waxes poetic about the nature of growing.
"Those are two different things," Abram replies mildly, but goes no further than that. Artistic as the analogy had been, Dequan was right in that the seeds mattered. But, his discerning gaze says, so does the rest.
After all, oranges don't care for winter.
Regardless, he nods approvingly of the deal and offers a hand to shake on the exchange. "We'll accept the trade, Dequan Silvercreek. I enjoy bringing goods rather than money back home to Providence. The paper does us less good."
Kara shifts by Abram's side as the settlement is named, wary about the potential for oversharing.
“On the surface they may seem very different. But at their core, they are still things that nature provides.” Dequan steps forward to take Abram’s hand, reaching a bit further to clasp his forearm and bowing his head. He meets Abram’s gaze with his own, eyes have a hint of deep knowing as full lips quirk a bit in something of a small smile.
Then he releases the arm and takes a step back, whistling sharply and the few men that were with him originally start coming from where they had wandered off and stand at the ready. “If your people, in Providence, have need of anything else. Even if it's just access to new seeds. Let us know.”