WHO: Eloise and George. WHAT: Getting lost while searching for "data". WHERE: Liberty Island. WHEN: February 6th. RATING: Low/medium. STATUS: In progress.
The last few days had been very nice, actually. In comparison.
Eloise knew this wasn't a shared opinion, at least not in every aspect. It was true that things were difficult, and that the difficulty was something she had to acknowledge: difficult in a way she didn't really know how to address, honestly, and sometimes found it easier to dismiss entirely. Not because it didn't matter -- because it mattered too much, and it mattered in ways that were strange and reminiscent of pain she didn't want to experience. Not now, when her heart had opened and she found herself stranded with so many feelings to consider.
Stranded. Perhaps the connotation there was a little negative -- a little fatal, too dangerous. Perhaps she was just lost. Lost.
And so, she'd tried to occupy herself with various tasks and experiments and "experiences". The Greenhouses, which felt practically magical. The beach, which was less than magical, but new and exhilarating with its cold wind and its flashing waves. Ellie had slept better on Liberty than she had in probably years -- which meant that her dreams had returned, and she remembered them vividly. (This probably would have been much nicer if they weren't all nightmares. Even the ones that weren't nightmares eventually devolved.) She spent time with Evan. She spent time with Lilah. She let people and children play with Dog, whose general demeanor had brightened as though in a spotlight on stage.
She tried to talk to George. It seemed like a thing that had to be done eventually, and beyond that a thing that Evan seemed to want -- considering how many times he'd asked if it had happened yet -- even if Ellie had no real idea of what to say.
So here they were.
Ellie was awkwardly trailing George along the path under Liberty's awkward tiny forest of trees. She knew her feet were awkwardly noisy on the pavement, and the wind was blowing her hair awkwardly awkwardly awkwardly in front of her face when she spoke: "Hey. George."
But then Eloise smiled. Maybe the least awkward thing of all, thankfully: she was good at smiling.
"Let's go for a walk. There's something I want to look for, and... It could be. Could be... Nice." There was a pause, filled with the sound of Dog's happy panting. "Maybe."