LOG: First
Date: Day 14, Month 10, Turn 25
Location: Beach, Western Island
Synopsis: Tom and Jaques reminisce. And grieve.
Unsurprisingly, no one has enforced Tom's 'heavy labour' stint, this morning. Probably, he could have slept in all morning if he wanted, but the sky has cleared, the sun is shining, and the settlement is still full of repair work-- and Tom is sitting on a boulder far out in the water, staring off into space with an intensity that is utterly uncharacteristic for him. It's the third day afer the storm; the morning after the surviving girls were found.
Life's hard, on the island. People die. But still it never gets easier, and no one seems quite sure just what to do with Tom's family. They pet and feed and reassure that there's still time, the girls might turn up yet. The others did. Nobody wants to come out and say the hard thing they all know. Jaques, as muted as the rest of the camp, finds his way down to the beach eventually, though he may or may not be actively looking for Tomaeran. In either case, once he finds the older boy, he lingers on shore for a minute, then wades out into the water to join his cousin at the boulder. Petting and reassuring aren't really his thing, but silence and watching--Jaques is good at that.
The sound of a human wading is different from that of a wave crashing up against a rock; Tom is not, then, unaware of someone's approach. He doesn't look to see who it is until Jaques is climbing onto the boulder, though: his expression, which turned unreadable at first hint of someone's approach, drops again. It's not tormented anguish, and it doesn't actually look as though he's been crying, but it's nonetheless more honest than his usual sneer. He keeps his silence for a few moments, but it's not his strong point: "Remember when I told the two of you that peeing in the water meant seamonsters got your scent, and eventually, they'd come and eat you up?"
A little wetter and more bedraggled for the trip, Jaques hauls himself up on the boulder to sit alongside his cousin. He seems content to just look out over the ocean himself, but at Tom's words, he slides a sideways look that way. "You know first chance we got, she told Jeremien if he peed in the water it'd bring in the really big fish and we'd have a feast," he answers, his own mouth curving upward slightly. "We were all so disappointed--him, that we didn't eat well; us, that we didn't get a sea monster after all."
The recollection makes Tom smile - just a little, the corner of his mouth twisting. "I think I was quietly relieved that you didn't /actually/ get eaten," he admits. "I was old enough to know better, but... all that effort, working you all up, and I worked myself up, too." His smile fades pretty quickly, and there's something in his expression that suggests he feels guilty for it. "I can't believe she's not coming back, Jaques. She always comes back."
Jaques hesitates visibly, mouth opening and shutting again before he looks down at his hands in his lap and then then the sea. "We all go back to the sea eventually," he finally says, with a roll of his shoulders. "Shimana's right, again."
"Fuck Shimana," declares Tomaeran, suddenly angry, barely managing to stop his shoulders from shaking. "She was /nineteen/, Jaques. She hadn't even gotten married, yet. She-- the sea should only take old people. Or people no one cares about. Not my sister. Not--" He can't seem to bring himself to actually say her name.
"Everybody's cared about by somebody," Jaques points out in his quiet way: not unemotional, exactly, but lacking in Tom's anger or outbursts, even as he watches his cousin intently. "Who else would you wish this on?"
Taking a ragged breath, Tom shakes his head: no, no, no. "I don't-- I don't /care/, as long as it isn't--" Kima. He still can't say it. "I hate the way everyone looks at us. They keep talking about how there's still a chance, but you can see in their faces that they're feeling sorry for us. They keep trying to make Mother say something, and she won't: she's barely moved. She knows. We all /know/." He sounds more frustrated than angry, now, and runs his hand through damp hair mostly, it seems, in order to have something to do.
"She's dead." If Tom hates seeing those looks, Jaques will tell it like it is. "Kima is dead. I won't lie to you." He lifts his shoulders faintly, squints out at the horizon. "Never got to talk to her much, last couple of turns. After Evie and all."
Tomaeran flinches-- but it's more at the sound of his sister's name than for the acknowledgement of her death. "She's dead," he agrees, his voice a little more even, this time. "She's not coming back." Beat. "I think we all grew apart, a bit. But since-- since I moved back in, I'd been spending more time with her. It was... nice. Like we were kids again, a bit."
"She always did like being first," and Jaques can't stop the creep of bitterness into his voice at that. He cloes his eyes, takes a breath, releases it slowly. "Leastways you got that time with her."
Tom's breathing falters slightly at that first statement; he's silent for several seconds, his gaze staring intently upon the island in the distance. Finally; "Yeah. If I hadn't-- Fishbones. Shit like this isn't supposed to happen to /me/." Arrogance, finally, creeping back into his tone. "Shimana should have known the storm was coming sooner. Before anyone went out. And those other girls should have /saved/ my sister. They let me down. And-- they need to pay." He doesn't wait for an answer: instead, he slides down the boulder, wading out further into the sun-dappled water, not looking back.
"Yeah," agrees Jaques, in that same even tone. "If we throw them off the cliffs for the sea monsters, they might spit Kima back up again."
If Tom hears, he doesn't react. That... doesn't mean good things, though. Sorry, Shimana. Sorry, girls.
Location: Beach, Western Island
Synopsis: Tom and Jaques reminisce. And grieve.
Unsurprisingly, no one has enforced Tom's 'heavy labour' stint, this morning. Probably, he could have slept in all morning if he wanted, but the sky has cleared, the sun is shining, and the settlement is still full of repair work-- and Tom is sitting on a boulder far out in the water, staring off into space with an intensity that is utterly uncharacteristic for him. It's the third day afer the storm; the morning after the surviving girls were found.
Life's hard, on the island. People die. But still it never gets easier, and no one seems quite sure just what to do with Tom's family. They pet and feed and reassure that there's still time, the girls might turn up yet. The others did. Nobody wants to come out and say the hard thing they all know. Jaques, as muted as the rest of the camp, finds his way down to the beach eventually, though he may or may not be actively looking for Tomaeran. In either case, once he finds the older boy, he lingers on shore for a minute, then wades out into the water to join his cousin at the boulder. Petting and reassuring aren't really his thing, but silence and watching--Jaques is good at that.
The sound of a human wading is different from that of a wave crashing up against a rock; Tom is not, then, unaware of someone's approach. He doesn't look to see who it is until Jaques is climbing onto the boulder, though: his expression, which turned unreadable at first hint of someone's approach, drops again. It's not tormented anguish, and it doesn't actually look as though he's been crying, but it's nonetheless more honest than his usual sneer. He keeps his silence for a few moments, but it's not his strong point: "Remember when I told the two of you that peeing in the water meant seamonsters got your scent, and eventually, they'd come and eat you up?"
A little wetter and more bedraggled for the trip, Jaques hauls himself up on the boulder to sit alongside his cousin. He seems content to just look out over the ocean himself, but at Tom's words, he slides a sideways look that way. "You know first chance we got, she told Jeremien if he peed in the water it'd bring in the really big fish and we'd have a feast," he answers, his own mouth curving upward slightly. "We were all so disappointed--him, that we didn't eat well; us, that we didn't get a sea monster after all."
The recollection makes Tom smile - just a little, the corner of his mouth twisting. "I think I was quietly relieved that you didn't /actually/ get eaten," he admits. "I was old enough to know better, but... all that effort, working you all up, and I worked myself up, too." His smile fades pretty quickly, and there's something in his expression that suggests he feels guilty for it. "I can't believe she's not coming back, Jaques. She always comes back."
Jaques hesitates visibly, mouth opening and shutting again before he looks down at his hands in his lap and then then the sea. "We all go back to the sea eventually," he finally says, with a roll of his shoulders. "Shimana's right, again."
"Fuck Shimana," declares Tomaeran, suddenly angry, barely managing to stop his shoulders from shaking. "She was /nineteen/, Jaques. She hadn't even gotten married, yet. She-- the sea should only take old people. Or people no one cares about. Not my sister. Not--" He can't seem to bring himself to actually say her name.
"Everybody's cared about by somebody," Jaques points out in his quiet way: not unemotional, exactly, but lacking in Tom's anger or outbursts, even as he watches his cousin intently. "Who else would you wish this on?"
Taking a ragged breath, Tom shakes his head: no, no, no. "I don't-- I don't /care/, as long as it isn't--" Kima. He still can't say it. "I hate the way everyone looks at us. They keep talking about how there's still a chance, but you can see in their faces that they're feeling sorry for us. They keep trying to make Mother say something, and she won't: she's barely moved. She knows. We all /know/." He sounds more frustrated than angry, now, and runs his hand through damp hair mostly, it seems, in order to have something to do.
"She's dead." If Tom hates seeing those looks, Jaques will tell it like it is. "Kima is dead. I won't lie to you." He lifts his shoulders faintly, squints out at the horizon. "Never got to talk to her much, last couple of turns. After Evie and all."
Tomaeran flinches-- but it's more at the sound of his sister's name than for the acknowledgement of her death. "She's dead," he agrees, his voice a little more even, this time. "She's not coming back." Beat. "I think we all grew apart, a bit. But since-- since I moved back in, I'd been spending more time with her. It was... nice. Like we were kids again, a bit."
"She always did like being first," and Jaques can't stop the creep of bitterness into his voice at that. He cloes his eyes, takes a breath, releases it slowly. "Leastways you got that time with her."
Tom's breathing falters slightly at that first statement; he's silent for several seconds, his gaze staring intently upon the island in the distance. Finally; "Yeah. If I hadn't-- Fishbones. Shit like this isn't supposed to happen to /me/." Arrogance, finally, creeping back into his tone. "Shimana should have known the storm was coming sooner. Before anyone went out. And those other girls should have /saved/ my sister. They let me down. And-- they need to pay." He doesn't wait for an answer: instead, he slides down the boulder, wading out further into the sun-dappled water, not looking back.
"Yeah," agrees Jaques, in that same even tone. "If we throw them off the cliffs for the sea monsters, they might spit Kima back up again."
If Tom hears, he doesn't react. That... doesn't mean good things, though. Sorry, Shimana. Sorry, girls.