(no subject)
Seeing and believing, as the saying goes, are not one and the same. In Anabelle’s case, this isn’t so much an issue of doubt as it is one of imagination; now more than ever, she believes in the power of miracles, convinced that the island of Tabula Rasa is one such wonder, yet she remains astonished with all that the island holds, caught in a seemingly endless state of awe. If anything, that very awe serves as further proof of this reality, Anabelle thinking herself nowhere near imaginative enough to dream this all up, even subconsciously. But believer though she is, she also knows that miracles are rare and fleeting, not to be taken for granted like she nearly did, like she would have done had it not been for that live coverage outside of the Moreau home. More and more, she fears that her luck will soon reverse and things may somehow be returned to the way they were before her second life began. It stands to reason, she thinks; so few ever experience miracles of their own (or if so, fail to recognize them) yet she has been granted more than her fair share. Thus far, however, her life here has proved remarkably near perfect, and if nothing else she has learned to be grateful for such chances.
That afternoon, Anabelle emerged from the bath as if reborn, possessed of an entirely new outlook and a reinforced will to live. Things didn’t work out as expected - she certainly didn't make her way here intentionally - but it's only made her appreciate the good all the more, this amazing island consolation enough for all the bad, at least for now. That she and Elvis have wound up here together against all odds only strengthens her faith that good will out in the end; it always has.
Just as she did after running from home, Anabelle has taken this opportunity to reinvent herself. Doubtless she will never feel so at home as she did those weeks living with Charlie and Elvis, but she can make an attempt. It’s a miracle in itself that she has the freedom to do so at all outside of the public eye, the rabid press having grown only more forceful after the accusations against Elvis. No longer does she have to hide in her room, avoiding not only the mob outdoors but her own family, her mother’s halfhearted and misguided insistence that she is still loved anything but helpful, Jimmy’s presence more grating and painful than ever. Here, there is nothing but open air, sand, and sea; in other words, paradise, and one settled into easily enough. Diving in headfirst with an enthusiasm she’d feared had been drained from her forever, Anabelle has spent almost every waking hour in the sun, swimming in the ocean or taking long walks through the lush jungle, and meeting some of the most fascinating people. Today, she gravitates toward one of her favorite sites on Tabula Rasa thus far: the trampoline just outside the Compound. Gleefully, Anabelle bounces into the air, the soundtrack comprised of her uncontrollable giggling and the rhythmic creaking of the springs. The breeze caresses the fabric of her dress as she jumps, entangles itself through golden stands of hair. In between flashes of vibrant yellow, she can make out the silhouettes of those playing along the beach, obscured only by tress with leaves of the deepest green she has ever seen.
The slightest motion along the corner of her eye alerts her to the approach of someone new. "Hey," calls Anabelle, waving even as she's tossed into the air. "You should come try this out, it's so much fun!"
That afternoon, Anabelle emerged from the bath as if reborn, possessed of an entirely new outlook and a reinforced will to live. Things didn’t work out as expected - she certainly didn't make her way here intentionally - but it's only made her appreciate the good all the more, this amazing island consolation enough for all the bad, at least for now. That she and Elvis have wound up here together against all odds only strengthens her faith that good will out in the end; it always has.
Just as she did after running from home, Anabelle has taken this opportunity to reinvent herself. Doubtless she will never feel so at home as she did those weeks living with Charlie and Elvis, but she can make an attempt. It’s a miracle in itself that she has the freedom to do so at all outside of the public eye, the rabid press having grown only more forceful after the accusations against Elvis. No longer does she have to hide in her room, avoiding not only the mob outdoors but her own family, her mother’s halfhearted and misguided insistence that she is still loved anything but helpful, Jimmy’s presence more grating and painful than ever. Here, there is nothing but open air, sand, and sea; in other words, paradise, and one settled into easily enough. Diving in headfirst with an enthusiasm she’d feared had been drained from her forever, Anabelle has spent almost every waking hour in the sun, swimming in the ocean or taking long walks through the lush jungle, and meeting some of the most fascinating people. Today, she gravitates toward one of her favorite sites on Tabula Rasa thus far: the trampoline just outside the Compound. Gleefully, Anabelle bounces into the air, the soundtrack comprised of her uncontrollable giggling and the rhythmic creaking of the springs. The breeze caresses the fabric of her dress as she jumps, entangles itself through golden stands of hair. In between flashes of vibrant yellow, she can make out the silhouettes of those playing along the beach, obscured only by tress with leaves of the deepest green she has ever seen.
The slightest motion along the corner of her eye alerts her to the approach of someone new. "Hey," calls Anabelle, waving even as she's tossed into the air. "You should come try this out, it's so much fun!"