Election Party

[broken_brushes]

The general elections for Island Council were done, and I was happy to post the results to the bulletin board:
Tabula Rasa Island Council Elected Positions - Term 10

Comments

[borncareless]

A few days, now, Delysia has been on the island, and it isn't nearly enough to have started getting her bearings. Hell, a part of her still half-expects that she'll blink and be back in England, that all of this is imaginary, too absurd to be real. Whatever this is all about, though, it's the least she can do to try to enjoy herself. She'd never miss a party, anyway. So, despite the fact that she really couldn't care less about this Council business and that she hardly knows a person in this place at all, she puts on a casual dress she's found in that ridiculous box and shows up, looking every bit like she belongs. That's one thing she always has been good at.

[spirited_hero]

[borncareless]

The speaker earns a sideways glance from Delysia, expression growing skeptical, though her smile doesn't fade. "Well, it's a bit slow," she says with a shrug (as far as she's concerned, that's putting it mildly), and pauses to sip her drink. Only when she lowers her cup does she really get a look at him, and then, her eyes widen, Delysia making no effort to hide all too apparent shock. "Oh my God, what is on your face?"

[spirited_hero]

[borncareless]

"You really think so, don't you?" Delysia asks flatly, like she can't quite believe it. As far as she's concerned, it's just downright strange, and certainly not flattering, a fact she probably couldn't conceal if she wanted to. "Well, I... guess to each his own."

[spirited_hero]

[defected]

With his girlfriend - even after a month, it felt odd to call her that, if only because she was his first in years - among the elected representatives, Bryce had every reason to attend tonight's party. Not most dependable of men, it was rare that he was ever invited to these things back home (those he attended were at the behest of the agency and with a very particular purpose) and Bryce had made a habit of justifying all those he attended on the island by arguing that it was necessary to become well acquainted with the others here. Parties were ideal for focused observation without drawing suspicion. But the last one they'd had had been a bit of a stretch, even for him, which made him glad for the fact that tonight's was an event worthy of being celebrated.

"Evening," he greeted, spotting a familiar face and approaching with ease. They'd spoken only once before, months ago, but Bryce had since seen her around the island from time to time. "Bruce Anderson; I think we've met in passing."

[borncareless]

"Oh?" Delysia asks, turning her head when she hears someone speak, and smiling almost instantly. She's almost certain she's never seen him before, but that, all things considered, hardly seems consequential at all. She could very well be wrong (though she doubts she is), and it's a conversation starter, if nothing else; one look at him is all she needs to know it'll be a worthwhile one. "Well, gosh, I would've thought I'd remember a face like yours. Delysia Lafosse."

[defected]

"I could be wrong," he admitted, reasoning to himself that it had, in fact, been a while and there was none too small a chance that she was not the sole owner of that face. A strange thought to entertain, even now, but no stranger than the idea that he had somehow remained on the same island for the past eleven months against his own will. "That's quite a name, Delysia. What does it mean?"

[borncareless]

"Oh, you'd have to ask my parents that," Delysia says with a slight laugh and a lift of one shoulder, like she isn't the one who picked it for herself. She likes the sound of it more than anything else, glamorous, maybe a little exotic, but sweet, too: everything she tries to seem. "Anyway, I've only been here a handful of days, so I haven't really come across that many people yet."

[defected]

Clone, then. Bryce nodded away, unsettled though he was, the mere idea of clones still something that, while widely accepted as a fact of island life, didn't sit well with his own reasoning. He put it out of his thoughts for the time being, not quite ignored, but no longer at the surface of his worries, either. It was the best he could hope for.

"Welcome to Tabula Rasa," he said with one last purposeful nod. "Adjusting well?"

[borncareless]

"About as well as can be expected," Delysia answers, still grinning. It's a statement that's entirely true, though an elaboration on it would be entirely at odds with the expression she wears. To call it adjusting at all is something of an overstatement; mostly, she's just ready to get out of here, knows she'll have to soon. "You know, they really ought to give you some sort of warning before just... pulling you here, all out of nowhere. One minute you're one place, the next - poof! - you're somewhere else; it's not very fair, is it?"

[defected]

"That 'd be nice, wouldn't it?" Oddly enough, Bryce didn't quite agree with the suggestion, finding that he preferred not having known at all to receiving warning beforehand. It might have kept him from going back to Burbank, where he had clearly been needed, and Ellie's wedding could have played out even uglier than it actually had. That wasn't a possibility he really wanted to consider, though; Bryce mad an effort to push it from his thoughts. "But I don't think it would jibe with the island's MO. If I were one buy into the rumors about this place, I'd almost believe that it feeds off of our distress."

[dreaming_cowboy]

It's a genuine accident when Spike bumps into her; you can tell, because he doesn't swipe anything she's carrying. Or attempt to, which is a development that concerns him. Once again, he worries he's losing his instincts, or developing an entirely new set. Settled instincts.

Worrying idea.

"Careful," he warns the woman he just unceremoniously collided with. "There's all sorts here. Someone could have lifted your wallet, just now."

This doesn't count as settled or helpful, because he's mostly saying it to amuse himself.

[borncareless]

"Well, that'd be a problem, if I were actually carrying -" Delysia starts, the act of responding itself something of an instinct. She isn't too badly off for the collision, at least, her drink not spilled and her dress not torn, but it takes a moment to right herself anyway. Only then does she look up, and her expression shifts entirely, going from shock to something like excitement to something like horror. It's a face she'd recognize absolutely anywhere, one she never expected to see here, and doesn't know quite what to do with now, given the way things were left.

More importantly, though, is the matter of his hair.

"Oh, my God, what did you do?" she asks, as if this were something entirely tragic, and lifts her free hand, wincing as she reaches up to touch a strand of it. "And how long have you been here?"

[dreaming_cowboy]

"...at the party?" says Spike, peering at her hand, going almost cross-eyed when it reaches his hair. "Half an hour? What do you mean, what did I do?"