(Untitled)

[a_drowning_man]

A new arrival making a solid effort to beat the nerves eating away at him. Steven Mallory had not found a comfortable frame of mind in his twenty conscious years of life. For now he was sitting on the beach, hunched over the bony knees that were drawn up to his chest like some wounded vulture. God (if there was one) knew he had tried to shape his

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[findaconstant]

"That seems to be the general consensus," Daniel says, quietly, from his spot just a few feet away. He's leaning against a large rock, watching Steven intently.

He wants to say that kicking at the beach isn't going to change anything, but everyone has their own coping mechanisms. Dan's just here to make sure he doesn't hurt himself.

[a_drowning_man]

Immediately he ceased his wild movements and turns back to the meek man he had seen only a few days ago. Days? It felt like much longer than that, but his sad face seemed to stick. "Is it really?" he replied gruffly, dropping a handful of sand and letting it catch on the wind out into the ocean.

"So why hasn't anyone bothered finding a way off this rock, then?" He ruffled his hair with sandy palms as if itching his own brain for answers.

[findaconstant]

He doesn't move, but he does look relieved when Steven stops.

"It's not that easy. You'd think it would be, but it's not. And besides, even if you did manage to get off the Island - where would you go? This isn't your home."

[a_drowning_man]

"Good observation," he replied snidely. Perhaps the man didn't deserve it, but then again it certainly took a load off his own being. "No, it's the furthest thing from New York." Without cue or warning he started to laugh to himself. "Not that that's necessarily a bad thing."

Eventually the laughing subsided. Mallory drew in a breath and sighed. It sounded like it had been held in for years beyond his own.

"You're taking this rather well," he glanced back at the other as he sat down in the sand, arms rested on his knees. "Maybe I'll learn from you."

He sounded half serious. The other half of him was resorting to sarcasm once more.

[keepitupkoops]

Well, apparently Koops picked a bad time for walking on the beach.

He disappears into his shell when the sand starts flying, so if Steven didn't notice the human-sized turtle before, he probably won't notice the large-ish, bright green shell now.

[a_drowning_man]

He wasn't exactly sure if he had seen what his eyes perceived. It wasn't unusual given his lifestyle and imagination that dared to emerge from time to time. He stood still a moment longer until he was sure he saw the bright green shell. He took a step closer to it, careful and mindful of his footing.

A few steps shy of the large shell he stopped and laughed to himself. Finally, placing a palm over his face he shook his head.

"Congratulations, Steven, you've officially lost your commission and your mind. Really damn brilliant."

[keepitupkoops]

Koops is less concerned with Steven's sanity and more concerned with his projectiles.

"Are you done throwing things?" he asks with a somewhat muffled voice.

[a_drowning_man]

The hand slowly dripped away from his face. "Uh-- yeah. For now."

By then he had amassed the courage to reach out his hand and touch the shell, knocking on it gently at first. Once he felt the thick exterior he let his palms rest on it as if he were inspecting some fine piece of craftsmanship.