(no subject)
While she knew that their island was not heavily populated in the truest sense of the word, there were more people on it with each month, and space and time to be alone was beginning to be hard to come by-- even in the lab. Ideas would weigh heavily on her mind, and they weren't just worries about the island. They were things like, what if they had finally tracked down the identity of Jack the Ripper at home and she wasn't there to see it? Would she ever know?
Conversely, if she were to find a book claiming to know his identity, she could never believe it without testing evidence herself.
Even when she tried to deny it, her thoughts did eventually circle back to the island.
Temperance had found a new place to be alone simply because most people considered it creepy enough to stay away. They'd had to start the graveyard a long time ago, and it kept growing. Not at any normal rate, of course, for people were extraordinarily healthy here, save the odd life-threatening injuries. But it was growing all the same, and while she wanted to section it into organized plots, maybe by how death had come to the deceased, she suspected most inquires would be deemed crass.
"It's not like I want to color code you," she murmured from where she was sitting on a currently unoccupied bit of land.
She'd been thinking of the pygmy remains, as well, and what she might do to set them at rest. It was doubtful, however, that there would be a ton of people who'd be happy to help her design the better burial mound.
Conversely, if she were to find a book claiming to know his identity, she could never believe it without testing evidence herself.
Even when she tried to deny it, her thoughts did eventually circle back to the island.
Temperance had found a new place to be alone simply because most people considered it creepy enough to stay away. They'd had to start the graveyard a long time ago, and it kept growing. Not at any normal rate, of course, for people were extraordinarily healthy here, save the odd life-threatening injuries. But it was growing all the same, and while she wanted to section it into organized plots, maybe by how death had come to the deceased, she suspected most inquires would be deemed crass.
"It's not like I want to color code you," she murmured from where she was sitting on a currently unoccupied bit of land.
She'd been thinking of the pygmy remains, as well, and what she might do to set them at rest. It was doubtful, however, that there would be a ton of people who'd be happy to help her design the better burial mound.