(no subject)
Ideally, Brian's world would have consisted of two people but, at the moment, it was a world of one because his brother was so fucking clueless.
He had found a cave and he liked sleeping in it but he was going to have to end up in the Compound. He had to have somewhere to work that was at least slightly separate from the place he passed out in. Already he'd been killing. His victims were different but familiar considering he'd killed plenty of animals when he'd been younger. Mainly little harmless things with easily detachable wings. There were too few predators here but he was thankful that the natural world still made sense. Small creatures were still expected to figure things out or be prepared to die.
Wandering around towards the far side of the island with a blank sketchbook journal in one hand wasn't so bad but it wasn't what he really wanted to do with the rest of his unlife. Earlier that morning, he had stopped when he finally found what he was looking which was the dinosaur head the girl who didn't talk had put up. The blood had had drained away days ago and flies were milling around. The flies would probably lay eggs somewhere inside of it at some point.
He only stayed long enough to sketch a brief outline and some of the dinosaur's frills before moving on to the Compound where he began to add more details. That way if anyone passed by he could flip back to one of the other pictures. A portrait of Delirium or the remains of a large dinosaur's kill that he had stumbled upon. Or maybe some of the intricate sketches he'd done of hands and feet. He liked the human body best when it was broken down into smaller units.
The only really safe image he was able to commit to paper so far was the drawing he'd done of the house he'd grown up in which he thought was accurate enough but unlikely to jog Dexter's memory. That was probably going to take more time than Brian wanted it to and he honestly wasn't sure how many stupidly awkward and polite conversations he could stand to have with Dexter without at least a few beers in his system.
Tucking his pencil in the book and then the book under his arm, Brian walked to the bookshelf and began thumbing through the records there. He had to get himself in the right frame of mind. Maybe Billy Joel.
He had found a cave and he liked sleeping in it but he was going to have to end up in the Compound. He had to have somewhere to work that was at least slightly separate from the place he passed out in. Already he'd been killing. His victims were different but familiar considering he'd killed plenty of animals when he'd been younger. Mainly little harmless things with easily detachable wings. There were too few predators here but he was thankful that the natural world still made sense. Small creatures were still expected to figure things out or be prepared to die.
Wandering around towards the far side of the island with a blank sketchbook journal in one hand wasn't so bad but it wasn't what he really wanted to do with the rest of his unlife. Earlier that morning, he had stopped when he finally found what he was looking which was the dinosaur head the girl who didn't talk had put up. The blood had had drained away days ago and flies were milling around. The flies would probably lay eggs somewhere inside of it at some point.
He only stayed long enough to sketch a brief outline and some of the dinosaur's frills before moving on to the Compound where he began to add more details. That way if anyone passed by he could flip back to one of the other pictures. A portrait of Delirium or the remains of a large dinosaur's kill that he had stumbled upon. Or maybe some of the intricate sketches he'd done of hands and feet. He liked the human body best when it was broken down into smaller units.
The only really safe image he was able to commit to paper so far was the drawing he'd done of the house he'd grown up in which he thought was accurate enough but unlikely to jog Dexter's memory. That was probably going to take more time than Brian wanted it to and he honestly wasn't sure how many stupidly awkward and polite conversations he could stand to have with Dexter without at least a few beers in his system.
Tucking his pencil in the book and then the book under his arm, Brian walked to the bookshelf and began thumbing through the records there. He had to get himself in the right frame of mind. Maybe Billy Joel.