[debut] you'll never settle any of your score

[makeafairfight]

"I just had a phone chat with my daughter. She told me that she and her friends are already talking about the race, which they’ve just seen via their computers. A new website called Facebook. Do you have this in America?"

Comments

[makeafairfight]

There's so much in what she says that Cameron can't make sense of it. Oh, he follows what she says readily enough, but the words don't seem to process. On one hand, he doesn't understand how what she says can possibly be true, when it sounds like magic or science fiction, all this talk of just being transported, of traveling between times and worlds. On the other, he is most certainly no longer at the awards ceremony, there's no sign of his brother or Div and no other feasible explanation for his presence here. The simplest answer is that what she says is the truth, not some teenage girl's notion of a practical joke.

"Here," he says, stepping closer and holding out his hands to her, "let me help you with those." At least that's familiar. She's got far too much on her hands, undoubtedly being delayed in the midst of something important; the least he can do is offer a hand or two. If nothing else, it buys him a moment to try to put his thoughts into words. "You're telling me I literally turned around and appeared on an island. That I somehow managed to teleport between Henley and... what did you say it was called? Tabula Rasa?" He's familiar with the phrase from his days of taking Latin in school, but it's always been more of a philosophical notion than a place. It strikes hm as somewhat pretentious for these surroundings.

[honestlyrubbish]

Hermione's always had a habit of trying to handle too much at once, and for a second she's struck with embarrassment at having been caught in the act yet again. Not wanting to be impolite, she smiles, a sheepish laugh caught on her lips before she nods lightly and finds a spot to easily divide the pile, handing over about half of the folders- inventories of food consumption and farming take up a great deal of the workload Council members have, if not even most of it. Whether or not there's a functional economy on the island, one thing's for sure, and that's the fact that making sure that people eat well and healthily is no small feat, even with the Compound pantry replenishing a certain amount of staple goods.

"Thank you," she sighs gratefully, before pressing her lips together and taking on the far more daunting task of explaining to someone the peculiarities of the island. She nods in the direction of the Council offices, just down the corridor they've been walking already. "And... yes, I'm afraid, no matter how impossible it sounds, you've been transported to a magical island that we call Tabula Rasa. I use the term 'magic' a bit loosely here- just to refer to the unknown forces, really."

[makeafairfight]

There's something so utterly calm and certain in her demeanor that Cameron finds himself just nodding as he follows along. It still seems like nonsense, but he can't entirely argue with fact and he is here, no matter how crazy it may seem. At the very least, young though she is, she also seems to have answers - at least some of them. Careful not to crease or damage her papers, he considers this new information. At least she isn't trying to pass it off as magic in the strictest sense, simply as a kind of shorthand for not knowing.

"And there's no way back where I came from," he says, repeating what she said before. "Can you at least tell me why I'm here?"

[honestlyrubbish]

This might be one of the most calm arrivals that Hermione's witnessed to date, especially coming from someone who doesn't seem to have an extensive knowledge of magic or the way that it functions. Perhaps the man's simply shell-shocked, or perhaps this is simply a matter of personality, calmly turning over every possible stone and asking every pertinent question before later descending into panic. For his sake (and, at least on some level, her own), Hermione hopes that she can provide enough insight to keep that from happening, but each question lingers in her stomach like a weight- they're the right ones to ask, but also the most difficult to answer.

"I sincerely, sincerely wish that I could," she apologizes, turning both of them into the Council offices, where she's put together a folder of hand-written island guides, including a rudimentary map and explanations of where all oft-needed services can be found. Placing her pile on the desk first, she then reaches out for Cameron's, a guide in her free hand to offer as an exchange. "Unfortunately, said forces I mentioned earlier, we've never been able to pin them down. There are certain items scattered around the island which suggest this could be the work of a sentient force, but its whims are beyond us for now."

[makeafairfight]

Cameron hands her papers back to her, taking the offered pamphlet with a quick glance at it. There will be time to examine it in full later, but just the sight of it makes him strangely nervous. It's not that he's given to anxiety, although a situation like this calls for it if any does, but that more than anything else sends him the message that this is happening (well, but then, he wouldn't put it past his imagination to be this organized either). She's prepared for this. This must happen all the time, and she's ready for it, and this suggests a level of, of stability and permanence he can't wrap his mind wholly around yet.

"Like God," he says, a bit stunned by the idea, "or a - something like that." He shakes his head, like that slight motion might bring him clarity, his brow lifting slightly as he looks back to her. He wants to ask Why me? She probably doesn't know that answer any better than she knew the other, though. Probably everyone wonders that. "This is crazy. So everyone just... settles in for the time being? Are there a lot of people here?"

[honestlyrubbish]

"Not quite like God," Hermione replies, rubbing her forehead and the creases there, displaying an unwillingness to think of this as anything nearing the work of a divine hand. Not especially religious, Hermione still thinks that if there really is a 'god' worthy of worship, that he shouldn't be tugging everyone around left and right like this. "More along the lines of a puppeteer. Crazy things happen here, even beyond all of us arriving in the first place. People vanish from one end of the island and show up on the other in an instant. People are sometimes forced to tell the truth for a weekend. It's mad."

Rubbing her hand along her arm for a moment, Hermione presses her lips tightly together. "But the community itself is wonderful. People settle as best they can, and everyone's very cooperative. All... two hundred and fifty of us, more or less."

[makeafairfight]

It's meant to be reassuring, Cameron's certain, but no mention of how nice the people are or the community or whatever can erase the notion of being further jerked around like a puppet. Already everything feels too much out of his control, has since before he turned around and wound up here, and he doesn't know what to do with the frustration welling up again. It wouldn't be fair to take out on this girl, who's been so kind and helpful. At least this one, showing up here, isn't his fault in any way. The guide in his hand, though, just makes him feel that much more lost.

"Settle how?" he asks. "How does one go about..." He doesn't want to say it again; the idea of settling, even in this obviously intended to be positive light, doesn't sit easy with him. "- finding a place here?"

[honestlyrubbish]

For a few moments, Hermione pauses, merely watching the young man with an almost resigned look. Of course, one can't discount the fact that Hermione's had a better time of it on the island in the past few months than she did back home for the past year- but peace that isn't fully earned never settles well in her stomach. Although his world is undoubtedly different than her own, Hermione imagines that this young understands, something in his eyes looking almost fearful, and certainly at least reticent. Although she does her best to make the lives of her fellow citizens easier, most days, there's nothing she wants more than to at least be able to offer that exit. The door out, and back to lives that most people seemed to appreciate more than the island's.

"Well," Hermione breathes with a soft smile, reaching over for resident records and placing them on her lap. "If it comforts you, you're free to think of this as a temporary stay. Most people don't stay much longer than a couple of years, and the longest anyone currently on the island's been around is about six years, I believe. We do have a shared room for new arrivals, and I believe one of our Council members, Miss Stackhouse, is directing the construction of a set of rooms for newcomers as well- a bit more privacy- but that has yet to be completed, unfortunately. I can either set you up in the former, the New Resident Crash Room, or we could take a step outside and find you a personal hut." Her gaze lifts, and with a soft smile, Hermione's fingers tighten on her folder.

"I probably should introduce myself, too. Hermione Granger, currently an elected officer of the Tabula Rasa Council."

[makeafairfight]

Cameron almost laughs, eyes widening, though there would have been no mirth in it had he actually done so. "Like in the books," he says, though he hasn't had much time lately to read for pleasure (and that, he thinks, is why she looks familiar: she bears a striking resemblance to the girl in the films, just older, prettier, which must be a coincidence or else she's using an alias and it's a private joke). It's a better detail to focus on than what she's said, though he knows sooner or later he'll have to face it. Nothing sounds particularly temporary about a period between two and six years; he doesn't have that kind of time to waste, and he can't -

He can do this alone. He can. He just doesn't want to.

"Well, Hermione," he says, offering his hand, "I'm sorry, my manners are usually... far better than this. I'm Cameron. Winklevoss. Thank you for helping me. I... Somewhere more private would be preferable, thank you, so... a hut." It's not something that sounds appealing in the least, but neither does sharing space with strangers when he feels he needs some time on his own.

[honestlyrubbish]

As it isn't the first time that Hermione's heard someone allude to the books, the statement doesn't quite manage to throw her off completely, although her hands tighten for a moment and the slightest hint of color seems to drain from her cheeks. Every repetition is only a reinforcement of what she's starting to learn is probably the case- that Muggles know of Harry, that they know of her and Ron, and most likely many others from their world. But beyond that, there's a chance that these books paint them in some other manner, too. As fictional.

Hermione's not sure whether that's worse, or the fact that she doesn't even find the thought all that unnerving anymore. It's just another impossibility to tack onto the long list of those that this island presents.

"Erm, yes. Like those books written by Miss Rowling," Hermione nods, running her fingers through her hair and trying to tame the curls that never seem to calm anymore with the humidity. "But really, it's no trouble, there's no need to thank me and it's the least I can do. If you'll just follow me, I'm sure we can find something nearby. Unless you'd rather stay near the beach? It's beautiful out there, and the breeze is a bit stronger, so the area's slightly less humid."