[Ivanova] I have a book!
Who: Ivanova
When: Day 37, early afternoon
Where: Crest of beach, Camp Crash II
Invited: Daniel, River, (Faith?)
Status: COMPLETE
All in all, a morning passed for Ivanova that could have been much, much worse than what it was. Daniel was 'out of commission' for a few hours (and she could point at the fact that, while something -did- fall out of the sky, it was nothing that could have been helped... and nothing else dire happened while he was off!), she'd met the new guy (she'll talk to him later, she's sure...), she'd all but finished Marcus' shelter (in a couple of hours! A new record for her, certainly!) and... she'd had her baseline physical. There-- Stephen was going to die. Slowly and horribly. It was just a matter of how. While she could do it alone, it might be preferable to get more people involved. After all, what was supposed to be a 'private affair' between her and her friend became a little more public.
Perfect.
Susan was stretched out on a patch of sand that would eventually be cooled by the afternoon sun, after the daily squall, of course, which began to threaten in the distance. She was wearing a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, and gave up on shoes, allowing bare feet to dig into the warm sand. She was sweating already, but the sun and the blue sky was still very much a novelty.
Beside her, all the 'trimmings' necessary for at least one good, solid sleeping mat with a little extra, just in case. There were little 'production piles', stuff put aside for the newly 'inducted' into the mat-weaving sisterhood? Brotherhood? She had a halved coconut shell, complete with white meat, and inside, some pineapple squeezings she'd scored from the collection of fruit. If boar was on the menu this evening, Locke had pineapple garnish to go with it, Susan had made sure he'd gotten the 'meat' while she got the juice.
The mat materials, however, wasn't what was going to take her attention at that very moment. It was Chloe's notebook that the girl had lent her, allowed her to read. Notes on her observations of the island; a diary of sorts, or rather, more like a journal? If she had any hope of being any help, this was, essentially, required reading. She's promised that it'd go back to George, and to that end, she wanted to get it read as quickly as feasible and hand it back over to, if not it's rightful owner, said rightful owner's friend and obvious confidante.
When: Day 37, early afternoon
Where: Crest of beach, Camp Crash II
Invited: Daniel, River, (Faith?)
Status: COMPLETE
All in all, a morning passed for Ivanova that could have been much, much worse than what it was. Daniel was 'out of commission' for a few hours (and she could point at the fact that, while something -did- fall out of the sky, it was nothing that could have been helped... and nothing else dire happened while he was off!), she'd met the new guy (she'll talk to him later, she's sure...), she'd all but finished Marcus' shelter (in a couple of hours! A new record for her, certainly!) and... she'd had her baseline physical. There-- Stephen was going to die. Slowly and horribly. It was just a matter of how. While she could do it alone, it might be preferable to get more people involved. After all, what was supposed to be a 'private affair' between her and her friend became a little more public.
Perfect.
Susan was stretched out on a patch of sand that would eventually be cooled by the afternoon sun, after the daily squall, of course, which began to threaten in the distance. She was wearing a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, and gave up on shoes, allowing bare feet to dig into the warm sand. She was sweating already, but the sun and the blue sky was still very much a novelty.
Beside her, all the 'trimmings' necessary for at least one good, solid sleeping mat with a little extra, just in case. There were little 'production piles', stuff put aside for the newly 'inducted' into the mat-weaving sisterhood? Brotherhood? She had a halved coconut shell, complete with white meat, and inside, some pineapple squeezings she'd scored from the collection of fruit. If boar was on the menu this evening, Locke had pineapple garnish to go with it, Susan had made sure he'd gotten the 'meat' while she got the juice.
The mat materials, however, wasn't what was going to take her attention at that very moment. It was Chloe's notebook that the girl had lent her, allowed her to read. Notes on her observations of the island; a diary of sorts, or rather, more like a journal? If she had any hope of being any help, this was, essentially, required reading. She's promised that it'd go back to George, and to that end, she wanted to get it read as quickly as feasible and hand it back over to, if not it's rightful owner, said rightful owner's friend and obvious confidante.