(Untitled)

[dualites]

Silence pounds against Thomas' ears just as the roar of the crowd did only instants ago. His knees, formerly supported by the mattress behind the set, sink into the grass and dirt, and his palms press against the ground. The change is too much of a snap, too sudden for him to immediately process all of it.

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[get_over_here]

[dualites]

Lacking any other response, Thomas nodded back, brow creasing a little further as he kept trying to rationalize what was going on. He was well aware of the tolls that stress could take on the human body - he was no stranger to the milder side effects - but this didn't seem typical in the least. Everything was too real. Too tangible. Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen.

It was fortunate, he supposed, that he'd come across someone at all, or rather, that someone had come across him. The only problem was that he had no idea where to start. He wasn't the sort of person who was ever caught out of his depth if he could help it. Whatever advantages he could use, he had taken, yet in the space of a single moment, he'd lost whatever metaphorical cards he'd had to play.

[get_over_here]

[dualites]

"Thomas Leroy."

His tone was clipped at best, his entire frame held stiffly as if in anticipation of something just as bizarre as his arrival here to happen again in the blink of an eye. (He wouldn't deny that he almost expected it, if asked. Given what was already happening, it didn't seem too far out in the realm of possibility.)

[fear_no_words]

The demise of the space station - and all that it entailed - should have put Uhura into an even more rotten mood than she had been in before it appeared in their skies. It didn't. It was sad to lose the ability to visit space, even unfamiliar space, even for a short while, even without the ability to go anywhere or even to understand everything. And the whole debacle only proved once again how dead set the controlling forces of the island were in their mission to make their lives miserable, dangerous and painful. But Uhura couldn't bring herself to care. Rationally, she knew the adrenaline that had surged through her veins during those close hours had disappeared from her system by now, but she still had a bounce to her step that came from beating death and coming out on top

[dualites]

The initial moniker wasn't one that Thomas had necessarily expected, but his expression could hardly be said to convey any sort of displeasure; the twist to his lips and the wry arch of his eyebrows said enough.

Amiably (the word entailing a quick once-over of her frame, gaze lingering on the bandage about one of her knees): "I can hardly say no." The task, menial as it was, wasn't one he had any real reason to refuse. Besides, making a poor impression (given the foot the conversation had started on) wasn't going to do him any good. Despite having no real orientation within the kitchen - or the Compound, to be honest - his movements seemed fairly easy, if a little hesitant, as he retrieved a clean glass and then made his way over to the fridge.

"Apologies if the service is slow," he added, glancing back at Uhura, tone half-apologetic. "I'm afraid I'm not yet well-acquainted with the layout of this place."

[fear_no_words]

She could see it in his movements, or maybe she read more into the slight hesitation simply because, as she stood by the door watching him move, Uhura racked her brain for some memory of his face before now. She didn't think she knew every person on the island but faces did get familiar and after a certain amount of time, you developed a skill for seeing the newness in faces. Even if it was just a lack of sunburn.

But his words solidified a creeping suspicion and caused her to respond with a shake of her head and warm smile. "Service is service, and I'm grateful you're humoring me at all, depending on how new you really are. I should have known I haven't seen your face before."

Carefully - a kind of smooth care that comes from knowing your own body and its limits - Uhura settled herself in an empty chair at a table and propped up her leg on an accompanying chair. Two more sat unused at the little table. "Or do you just avoid the Compound?" she asked. "I know some people do."

[dualites]

"I only arrived here earlier this evening," he replied, filling up the glass as soon as he'd found the appropriate carton. (His gaze lingered a little longer this time. His profession demanded a certain awareness of the body, and past a shallower level - beauty was something he'd always appreciated - just how much control she had over her own movements wasn't something he failed to notice.) "It's been an experience, to say the least."

Setting the glass down on the table in front of her, he returned the juice to the fridge before returning to the table.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

[hylianqueen]

Since term had started back, Zelda had immersed herself in study and dance practice and left her music woefully untouched in pursuit of learning the new. She always craved new knowledge and while River was a harsh taskmaster in dance, Zelda always felt like she learned something when she went home. Today, however, she didn't have her dancing shoes with her and had traded them for harp inside, playing lightly on the steps into the Compound proper.

"Did you need me to move? I always get a little lost when I play and end up blocking foot traffic."

[dualites]

There wasn't any harm in postponing going in, Thomas supposed. As things were, he didn't exactly have anything pressing to attend to. An open schedule wasn't something he'd been used to for a long time (nor was it something he had ever cared for - idle hands were the Devil's playground, as the saying went, not that he hadn't gotten into his fair share of indiscretions anyway), but it didn't seem that he had much choice in the matter.

"It's fine," he replied, stopping a couple of yards away, hands tucked in his pockets. The harp wasn't something he would have expected to see, although the day seemed to be one for usurping his old standards. "I'm not in a hurry."

[hylianqueen]

"Nobody ever is in this place," Zelda said softly, finishing the piece with a flourish and setting the harp aside for the moment in favor of conversation. He was well-dressed, for the island, and Zelda had to wonder if perhaps he was new and had no other change of clothing or if he just chose to be so formal.

"I suppose it is something of a waste to hurry through things in a place you can never leave, isn't it?"

[dualites]

"Probably." He was more inclined to agree than not, the main reason for his hesitance to answer ambivalently being the rather hopeless quality of the admission that he had no way of leaving. Unfinished business was an unpleasant thing, but more than that, Thomas resented the fact that he didn't really have a choice in it. More so given that whoever (or whatever) controlled the comings and goings - in addition to the caprices that seemed to occur on the island itself - seemed to be faceless.

"You play beautifully," he added, with a nod at the harp.

[pointzerothree]

He doesn't expect to find anything, but since the suggestion that Effy girl made about checking the bookshelf for news of Facebook, Eduardo can't help looking anyway. It isn't like he's obsessed or anything, he just doesn't have that much else to be doing. Thus far unsuccessful, the closest he's come a couple old, irrelevant issues of the Crimson, he isn't focused enough not to notice when the music playing from the jukebox changes, switching from some shitty boy band song that he vaguely recalls having been popular when he was in high school to something classical, that sounds familiar but he can't quite pinpoint.

Almost instinctively - an instinct he'd have picked up in the few weeks he's been here - he glances over his shoulder at whoever has just walked into the room, then turns fully to lean against the bookshelf, chin lifting in a sort of greeting. "If you're why this is playing, thank you," he says wryly. "I don't think I could take any more of that awful nineties pop."

[dualites]

The constant strains of Tchaikovsky are something that Thomas is going to have to get used to, not that he realizes it now. The whims of the jukebox aren't ones he's picked up on yet. Still, his reaction is telling enough, even as he returns the nod, eyes flickering from the offending jukebox and then back to Eduardo. The gesture is a little crass, but it hardly matters at this point.

"You're welcome," he says, tone of voice equally wry. "Although I think I might have preferred the pop music." There isn't really any although to it. He isn't a fan of contemporary music in general, but right now he'd prefer almost anything to Swan Lake. The connotations that it brings back are a little too fresh for him to really want to revisit at the moment. There's enough going on already. More than enough

[pointzerothree]

"What, you - you don't know about that?" Eduardo asks, honestly surprised by the question. It's a sensible one, of course - he has yet to fully accept that a magic jukebox, and one that enjoys playing ridiculous boy band music at him, is part of his daily life now - but it's also common knowledge around here, and that leads to only one conclusion. He's encountered new arrivals before (just the one, but the night Olive showed up isn't one he's likely to forget anytime soon), but he wasn't expecting it now, and doesn't quite know what to do after the fact. The guy doesn't seem completely lost, at least. Maybe the big explanations won't be necessary. "Yeah, people say it's got a mind of its own, have -" His brows furrow slightly. "Have you not been here long?"

[dualites]

Dryly: "It's been a few hours."

The fact that some things on the island are specifically designed to make people miserable is one that Thomas is quickly picking up on. The note of resignation on his face says as much. Unsurprisingly, he can hardly be called happy. He's used to having power over his circumstances, and this is a change that is neither welcome nor one that he particularly fancies having to get accustomed to. Being out of control is enough; he doesn't need the fact of it rubbed in.

[palmthemoon]

There was a minor traffic impediment around the bookshelf. Josiah was standing on his own with both hands against the lower shelf for support. He wasn't walking on his own just yet, but every day his balance got better. Garm was pacing near the baby as if on guard and let out a warning bark at the approaching man.

Shadow looked up from his son as he leaned against the arm of the sofa. "Shut it, Garm, let him go by. Josie's fine." He offered the guy a small, apologetic sort of smile. "Sorry about him"

[dualites]

Thomas paused in the doorway, glancing first at Garm and then at Shadow, polite smile hesitant but present. Animals weren't his strong suit, and neither were children (at least, for extended periods of time; patience was touch and go, for him), but it wasn't any sort of anxiety on those points that he was feeling rather than the usual sense of displacement that came with arriving on the island.

"Don't worry about it," he said, with a slight shake of his head.

[palmthemoon]

After sniffing the new man's hand, Garm settled back onto his haunches as if he had successfully passed inspection. Josiah waved a chubby hand in greeting then bounced his legs excitedly as his father picked him up.

Shadow looked at the man for a moment. He looked not lost but, perhaps, out of place. "Are you looking for something?"

[dualites]

Lips pulling briefly to one side, Thomas shook his head, shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. He realized how aimless he must seem, but managed, with some effort, to remind himself that how he came off to other people wasn't what he ought to be worried about, at least not at the moment. He needed to get oriented. That was all.

"Nothing in particular," he added, almost as an afterthought. The question seemed to merit more response than just a gesture.