Tweak

InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Crumple-horned Snorcack"

Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me
  • Create Account
  • IJ Login
  • OpenID Login
Search by : 
  • View
    • Create Account
    • IJ Login
    • OpenID Login
  • Journal
    • Post
    • Edit Entries
    • Customize Journal
    • Comment Settings
    • Recent Comments
    • Manage Tags
  • Account
    • Manage Account
    • Viewing Options
    • Manage Profile
    • Manage Notifications
    • Manage Pictures
    • Manage Schools
    • Account Status
  • Friends
    • Edit Friends
    • Edit Custom Groups
    • Friends Filter
    • Nudge Friends
    • Invite
    • Create RSS Feed
  • Asylums
    • Post
    • Asylum Invitations
    • Manage Asylums
    • Create Asylum
  • Site
    • Support
    • Upgrade Account
    • FAQs
    • Search By Location
    • Search By Interest
    • Search Randomly

drina perez ([info]yourdefender) wrote in [info]inpoormerit,
@ 2010-03-05 23:03:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:cath, cath and drina, drina

WHO: Drina and OPEN
WHERE: Beginning in Golf-2; Exploring around her new "home"
WHEN: late morning, noonish


Drina was conscious before she actually realized that she was awake. Instead of being caught in a place of thoughtless darkness, she was acutely aware of an ache in her muscles and the feeling of dizzyness, even though she was lying down. She couldn't remember exactly what had happened before, but she certainly remembered the men dressed in black masks. She moved her fingertips, one at a time, and then each of her toes to make sure she had suffered no injuries to her limbs or spine. Her neck turned to the right and then to the left and once she was satisfied that she still had the ability to move, her eyes opened.

Bright sunlight filtered in through a nearby window, illuminating a white room with red trim. The ceiling had a strange texture to it, and in the middle, a ceiling fan was silently rotating. This was not her home. This was not where she was supposed to be. She bolted upright in bed, a little too quickly, she learned as a wave of slight nausea hit her. When she swallowed, all she could taste was copper, and it was disgusting. Her eyes left the walls for a brief moment to travel down to her bulging stomach. Her hands caressed the flesh only for a second, before she was assured enough to stand up.



The room she was standing in looked nothing like her bedroom at home. It was smaller and there was a bright red wardrobe in one corner and a black desk on the opposite wall. Before she continued her exploration, her attention was directed toward a netbook sitting open on top of the desk. It flashed and there was a message waiting to be read. A message from someone calling themselves "The Commissioner."

The little hairs on Drina's arms rose as she felt the anxiety creep up through her body. The only hint to her location was that she was on an island. She closed the browser and immediately tried to pull up an email account, a networking site, anything that would contact her with husband or family. Nothing worked. All that she was able to find was her ability to post things on the netbook. Like a networked blog, or something. Her experience and history as a police officer kept her fear on a dull burn rather than a roaring flame. She walked over toward the wardrobe, where she found several of her favorite outfits; the nearest one was a khaki sundress. She lifted it out of the wardrobe along with a pair of flat sneakers and dressed herself before exploring the rest of the residence.

Drina noticed several artifacts from her home, including the baby blanket her mother had sent to her just a week ago. She felt her heart skip a beat when she saw a large portrait of her and Heath standing together. Without another thought or word, Drina was out the door, looking for answers.


(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)


[info]yourdefender
2010-03-13 08:01 pm UTC (link)
Drina giggled slightly, "I believe it. The only accent that doesn't hold attraction for Americans is a Hispanic one. Trust me." It was sad, considering that Spanish was one of the so-called Romantic languages. Anymore, for an American to find any allure in the language, they would have to actually be in Spain. Of course, nowadays, anyone from Mexico was expected to learn English as soon as they moved into the United States (if not before), and those - like her mother - who didn't, were given harsh looks and words, even if they were legal immigrants. That was one thing that always made Drina's blood boil, and something that she always wanted to change.

She grinned a bit at his lobster remark. "I can't say that it would do you much good. I don't think that your accent would save you if you tried to hit on an American girl while we're here." She hoped that they could find a way to escape before much longer; in just a matter of months, she would be giving birth, and there was no way in hell that she was going to have her baby on this godforsaken island.

"Hey, I could show you a Mexican breakfast and then you'd be so full you wouldn't be able to move." She remembered how her mother would always rise with the sun to prepare their breakfast. There was so much food that she would even take some to their neighbors who lived a floor above.

The journey to the drug store did not take quite as long as Drina had thought that it would. But once they arrived, she stepped inside, the bell at the door jingling softly. The store was deserted. "Does no one work here?" She inquired. "For an island that is wanting us to stay, they're sure making it easy for looters."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]dian_cecht
2010-03-13 09:31 pm UTC (link)
Yes, he'd already picked up on the derisive attitude Americans had towards their neighbours to the south. He personally thought it was rubbish, the Mexican lads who he'd hired to help him put up shop were hardworking and industrious as anyone he'd ever seen. Plus, they were Catholic, which was always a plus in Cathair's opinion. "It's rubbish," he assured her.

Cath scoffed at the idea of him trying to chat up anybody on this island. "Least of my worries, colleen," he assured her. He didn't chat up women in his normal life, he wasn't about to take up the habit now.

As for a big breakfast. "That doesn't sound so bad," he admitted. "I've never had Mexican food period, as I doubt the stuff from Taco Bell even remotely counts." Unless it was cooked properly by someone from the country who knew how to do it, it didn't count.

It was like American 'Irish' pubs. Far too clean and well lit and they served all sorts of drink that you'd never find a proper Irish pub. And they weren't any hooligans watching sport and making enough noise to drop the roof.

He nodded at her question, trying to figure out where they'd keep the suncreme in this sort of druggist's shop. "Hardware shop was the same," he admitted. "I doubt they're worried about vandals, considering they've left the doors open and not locked up anything."

(Reply to this) (Parent)


(Read comments) -


Home | Site Map | Manage Account | TOS | Privacy | Support | FAQs