(the legionnaire's lament)

[recanting]

The Bookshelf seems hell bent on only giving him Ian Fleming novels. It had been amusing for the first couple of times, but after a while novelty had worn off. Especially considering how badly Alex wanted to read something that didn't pertain to his old life back in England. Not to mention the fact that he thought James Bond was all in all a pretty

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[a_swan_diver]

Bella stood behind him, leery of the bookshelf since it had decided to lay out her whole life in four black volumes and taunting her with a look into her future that would rival even Alice's skills. She was debating another attempt at clothing but really wasn't in the mood for the box today.

"That's the first time I've ever seen anyone smile at the bookshelf."

[recanting]

Alex turns slowly, the cross still tucked tightly in the palm of one hand. Keeping it close, because now that it's in his possession there's no way that he'll let it go. It's practically the only thing left of his father's that he has, barring the scarce photographs in his Chelsea home. Although it won't fill the empty space that he feels acutely even though he'd never met John Rider, it helps. It's something.

"Generally because it's a piece of rubbish that only gives you the worst things, I guess," Alex shrugged, vaguely relaxed. "That's probably why." Except for today. Today, it had decided to change its mind, and he was grateful that it had.

[a_swan_diver]

"You can say that again. It's almost as bad as the clothing box," she said with a shoulder shrug in the general direction of her least favorite thing in this room. "Maybe they're in league with the general misery spreading. Wouldn't surprise me."

[recanting]

The Clothing Box, for the most part, has been relatively kind to him. Mostly providing him with the types of things he would have worn back home, and besides, Alex figures that he's a lot less fussy on this than most people would be. "It wouldn't surprise anyone, I don't think." Never mind the fact that they were talking about inanimate objects as if they were sentient, which Alex still found confusing despite the fact that most of the islanders seemed to have accepted it.

[slowspeedster]

Bart hadn't meant to be watching, there was something about Alex. Mostly, he reminded him of Tim, but possibly a Tim who wasn't as broken as they all ended up. If Bart were to really think about it, he'd say it was more that he missed having Tim around, someone who really understood him, and was looking for any of those traits. But he hadn't really wanted to, and anyway, he hated psychology.

"Maybe this place likes you," he finally said, not close enough to even try to read the inscriptions or even pick out more than the basic shape of the medal.

[recanting]

"I doubt it. If it really liked me, I wouldn't be here," he shrugs, though Alex will give credit where credit's due because he didn't even know where the medal ended up back in England, and suddenly it was here again. If there were such things as powers that be here, maybe they were trying to curry favour with him. Or maybe they just figured it was especially fitting for Armistice Day. Remembering dead soldiers and all, fitting because his father was one of them.

Alex doesn't think about that. He also doesn't know what to think about Bart, as a whole, because he represents a side of the island - the fantastical side - that he hasn't really had a chance to interact with yet.

[slowspeedster]

"I'm still looking for a way to get rid of the gift the Island left for me. Nothing but nightmares from that thing, even if it doesn't actually work," Bart said, shaking his head slightly. "And all I ever get from the bookshelf is library books or comics about my life."

Then he thought about it. "Is it yours?"

[recanting]

"What...did the island leave you?" Alex finds himself treading carefully around Bart sometimes, because it's obvious that his life was similarly in turmoil - although perhaps even more so because of the added factor of powers, which Alex was still trying to wrap his mind around. The implications were terrifying, because he kept thinking about all of the evil people he'd encountered in the past year. Damian Cray. Julia Rothman. Winston Yu. What would have happened if they could suddenly do these superhuman things? He didn't even want to think about it

[teenagerenegade]

It's not unusual, finding someone standing over something like that, with that look particular look on his face. Charlie's been on the island for long enough to barely even mark it with more than a glance. Those moments are almost always personal; he doesn't want to be a dick and interfere. His face is still kind of a mess and he brushes his fingers against the tape across his nose as he smiles.

"My Mom had one like that," he says, quietly. "My Grandfather earned it, I think. Or one kind of like it, anyway. An American version."

[recanting]

Alex hears the voice and his head lifts, very acutely knowing that there was no time in which the Rec Room was empty from few times he's seen it or passed by. And he doesn't mind the company either way, because it's not like he's received anything to be ashamed about. If anything, the child in him wants to run around yelling: THIS IS MY DAD'S to the entire island. Mostly because Ian Rider had never told him very much about his parents, and he therefore never had any answers when people would ask him the inevitables. What were they like? The answer was always the same. I don't know.

"Seems like something good to keep around," Alex replies, and then slowly turns around, trying to hide the wince that appears on his face when he takes in the broken nose and the tape on his face. "...Were you in a bad fight?"

It doesn't seem polite to suggest that it looks like he lost, though. And badly. So Alex adds: "I suppose the other guy looks worse."

[teenagerenegade]

"The other guy was a fluffy unicorn," explains Charlie and he's really, really hard to embarrass, virtually impossible, but maybe he does blush a touch at that. "But my boyfriend totally disemboweled it, so it's all good. Nose'll be fine. Might even give me some character."

[recanting]

It's hard not to laugh.

It's very hard not to laugh. But Alex is trying his best because he doesn't want to be unkind. He's heard things about the stuffed toys attacking on Halloween, but those were vague terms that he hadn't really believed. Well, magical or not, he now had to concede that there was something pretty weird going on here.

Fighting down the urge to smile, he shakes his head. "That's alright then. I hear the killer toys were vicious, anyways."

[provincialbelle]

Belle had come to find a new book, especially seeing as she felt so lethargic and lazy lately -- she just wanted a good book and to curl up and enjoy herself, but she had to pause and watch the young man curiously. She had often enjoyed the bookshelf because it kept her entertained, but it didn't seem to be a well-shared opinion. "What kind of book?" she asked, curiously.

[recanting]

Alex's reverie was quickly cut short, and it was strange because he was normally better than average at sensing the presence of others - or at least, he was when his attention wasn't being completely distracted as it was now. He starts, but then turns around a moment later with the island's new offering in the palm of his hand. "Not a book. But it likes giving me the Bond ones lately."

[provincialbelle]

"I've read a couple of those, but I don't know that I like his attitude towards women," she admitted with a purse of her lips, a small line forming on her forehead. "They're entertaining, to say the least," she said, peering at the bookshelf. "Can I ask? What did you find?"