Meanwhile, Max is taking a head-clearing stroll around the barracks. He's out of uniform and done with his shift at the Flame until tonight - they finally found someone else, someone much more qualified to work on getting the comm system up.
It's still not working, but Max is glad that he's not the one being forced to deal with that headache anymore.
He really, really wishes there was something else he could do, something more suited to his talents, but what is there to spy on, on an island this size and this scarcely populated?
His current "job" doesn't matter much, though, because he's one of the few optimistic ones who believe that they'll eventually find a way back to their own worlds. When they'll figure that out and how, he has no idea, but he knows that you can't be pessimistic in a situation like this, which is why he's trying to make the best of it.
The barracks are, at least, clean and comfortable.
And air-conditioned.
... they're air-conditioned, and yet he's outside. Maybe this is another of the Island's mysteries?
While he had found a new home and a new vocation of sorts since the Incident out on the Wörmway, Rossamünd still kept to some of the drills and practices of the Lamplighters, if only to keep some normality in the face of the great strangeness of his experience
( ... )
Re: BarracksboomerangqueenSeptember 10 2008, 00:35:04 UTC
Aika is staring at the ocean, slack-jawed. She's never seem so much water in one place! It's kind of disconcerting. She's also without her boomerang, which makes her feel naked and exposed.
He came to the boathouse half to be alone and half on the off chance he could find something suitably dangerous there. No luck, so instead he's grumbling to himself and breaking things.
"Goddamn fucking livelings won't even let me have a knife. Bullshit."
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It's still not working, but Max is glad that he's not the one being forced to deal with that headache anymore.
He really, really wishes there was something else he could do, something more suited to his talents, but what is there to spy on, on an island this size and this scarcely populated?
His current "job" doesn't matter much, though, because he's one of the few optimistic ones who believe that they'll eventually find a way back to their own worlds. When they'll figure that out and how, he has no idea, but he knows that you can't be pessimistic in a situation like this, which is why he's trying to make the best of it.
The barracks are, at least, clean and comfortable.
And air-conditioned.
... they're air-conditioned, and yet he's outside. Maybe this is another of the Island's mysteries?
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There's a kid here?
"Hi there," he says, returning the wave with a bit of uncertainty.
He is so bad with children.
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"Good day, sir."
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She's curled up on the floor in...
...a snowdrift?
How the fuck did a snowdrift get into the boathouse?
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His skin prickles, and he looks around, down -
And jumps backwards, out the door he just came in from.
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Then, leaving behind frosted footprints with her bare feet, she follows him outside.
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"Please don't do that."
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He isn't really the social type, usually, but he can't help wondering why she's staring at the water like that.
So he approaches, slowly and quietly.
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"Who are you?"
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"Daniel Faraday - I - I guess I wasn't there when you arrived. I work in the Orchid."
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He came to the boathouse half to be alone and half on the off chance he could find something suitably dangerous there. No luck, so instead he's grumbling to himself and breaking things.
"Goddamn fucking livelings won't even let me have a knife. Bullshit."
And so on.
Approach with caution, if at all.
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That's... unexpected.
"What are you doing?" Dan shouts, startled at what he finds on the other side of the door. "Hey!"
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"What the fuck are you looking at?"
Everything about his stance and posture says: please, please give me an excuse to smash your face in.
And his eyes flick to the floor, by the wall, where a scatter of shards is the only remnant of several glass bottles.
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And please don't hurt me.
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