To the list of things out of her own experience that she would not recommend to others, Polly could now add "being lifted up and slammed on the beach by a bleedin' great sea monster with tentacles." About the only thing you could say for that experience was that it was definitively over, a good portion of the squid's body having been turned into ( Read more... )

Polly felt kind of funny when she woke up. For one thing, she was lying in metal bits. And her face felt somehow dirtier than it should. And she was tangled in what appeared to be skirts.

Oh.On closer inspection, the metal bits were earrings that appeared to have been expelled from her ears overnight, leaving- she felt- not even the holes. ( Read more... )

When Polly woke up, as usual, she spent a few lazy moments gazing at the roof of the new hut. A few more lazy moments were spent looking at the still-sleeping Duo, which was hardly unusual these days either ( Read more... )

The storm was over. Duo had (Polly blushed, very slightly, at the thought) been properly reunited with, and a fair amount of debris had been cleared in preparation for a new hut, and she was now thoroughly worn out and a search party was leaving in the morning, and she was without a place to sleep. Or not exactly; Duo had one, after all. ( Read more... )

Polly moved her head, a little, to get her face out of his, and bent down a little to kiss along his jawline. From Duo's side, her hand dipped to the band of his jeans. Not past it, not just yet, but there was a definite impression that past could happen at any time ( Read more... )

Polly'd been tired lately, in a way that had little to do with how long Duo had kept her up last night. Neither would it account for the slightly queasy sensation that Arya's cooking had improved far too much to be blamed for. She'd heard (only since she'd been here, admittedly) of tropical islands having diseases of their own, though ( Read more... )

From here.

"There's a bed in an actual, private room we can borrow downstairs," he murmured.

"Impressive," said Polly brightly. She indicated the door. "Lead on?"

Wonderland: Day Two

Flowers, Polly was reasonably sure, should not speak.

And what must have been some residual sense of little-girl romanticism had the vague notion that if they did speak, they ought to say something a little nicer than criticisms of her fashion choices ( Read more... )