Not Until We Are Lost

There were moments when he drifted toward the surface of the ocean he'd found himself drowning in. When the sounds around him were closer and more distinguishable from one another, and when he knew that his other senses were working, even if the body attached to them wasn't. He was aware of birds chattering away, of cool breezes, and of what sounded like the beginnings of an argument between two familiar voices.

It felt a lot like sleeping, and it felt a lot like being dead. Only he wasn't detached from the corpse he'd become and left wandering around trying to find somebody who could hear him. He felt, in fact, quite stuck.

The knowledge that he'd died - again - was disturbing at best. But Johnny thought that maybe he was taking it a little better due to what Mary had told him about his own future. He could only imagine what it might have been like, felt like, to discover this by himself. Being shot by somebody he was after, maybe getting into a wreck on the bike, some horrible accident where he would know that he should be dead from it, maybe even see the evidence of that death, only to be alive.

Johnny remembered the last moments clearly. Mary. The way that Mary had looked. Hearing her words and feeling his heart race and soar at the same time, light with the discovery that he'd not driven her off. And breaking because of the way that her skin had been carved up, the panic he could see in her eyes, the fear stink coming off of her from long hours at the hands of a psychopath. The woman with the gun. The sound of the shot coming after he felt the warmth of the bullet. All of it was detailed in his mind like he'd watched instead of lived it.

He didn't know where he was now, but he was almost immediately aware of being able to see in color. It was almost too bright for his eyes, and not just because they'd likely been closed for a long while. The green was like fire to his vision, exploding into the nerves all over his body as he tried to see what was around him.

The effort of pulling himself up onto his elbow did him in. Johnny felt the exhaustion overcome him, and he slumped back to the ground, though now in a completely different position than what he'd been in when he'd started. And now instead of a near-death state, he was more like a medically-induced coma patient. In a critical care ward instead of a hospice situation. His breath came easier, his heart beat steadier.

It was insulting.

Simon had many abilities, could do many things, going over to the other island, the one that he sat staring at now with the warm sand covering his toes, was easy enough. He knew who was over there. He knew that nobody was missing from this farce. He knew, also, that there were dangerous creatures in the water and vicious things in the sky, but even with those issues, he could still get across.

But it was so insulting.

As if a fairy could be kept from what he truly wanted by dangerous animals. As if he couldn't, should he choose, just protect himself from them, or make himself invisible to them, and go across. As if he couldn't just walk across the blasted water like the Christian Jesus if desired it.

Instead of doing anything helpful to anybody, Simon sat and pouted.

There was a whole lot of nothing that Cavan wanted on the island. Peopled with only those who were a part of the experiment, there was no way for him to satisfy urges that had been rising to the top and threatening to boil over since before he'd met the woman back on the last planet.

He wasn't the type to take it out on animals. Animals were far better than people and made more sense in life. They didn't do it for him at all. He needed screams and pleading for mercy. He needed hands and fingers, jewelry, hair and delicately sculpted eyebrows. He needed men too masculine for their own good and women who thought that sex was a valuable item for trade.

Cavan wasn't sure that he should be around the people that he shared the island with, so he was doing his best to stay back from them. When he encountered them, he did his best to not be weird, and didn't say anything more than 'I like sleeping on the beach' to their offers of joining the camp.

It was easy enough to find food. The island was absolutely teeming with it. It was on the trees, growing on bushes, buried in the ground, running around like it'd never seen a human before, and just sitting there. Water was easy, too. There was a freshwater stream running through the island. And he had enough knowledge to capture the smaller creatures for himself. Which is what he'd done today. He was able to construct rabbit snares and find things in the ground that might have actually been potatoes. Start a fire, and get a little banquet going. The smell of the meat was good, and Cavan closed his eyes and inhaled.

Jack was not there.

But Jack's friend was. Kai knew this. She felt him roaming the island more than once. There were others, too. Things that shouldn't be. Sharing the island with her. And the Voice said to kill them all.

Kai had to fight herself from Hunting. She had to keep her distance from all of them. Hole up on a part of the island where none of them went. It wasn't really far enough for her liking, but she made sure not to roam, and kept herself calm.

First she built herself a little shelter. A small lean-to that would keep the sun off of her when she wanted, and hold back rain and wind if it came. Then it was stocking it. Food, wood, items she needed, and some she didn't. Like the pretty little rock that she found and thought Jack would like.

Kai had no idea about the second island. She never even made it over to that side of hers to see it. She was just sure that everything she cared about was gone, and she was surrounded by the impossible. Fending for herself. Trying not to slaughter everyone she was with.

Of all the things that existed in the world, Sympathy understood the sea the most. The way that it moved, its moods. What lived inside of it. The island that they were placed on was not a bad thing in her mind. She could see easily that there was plenty of food to sustain them all. Plenty of shelter, too.

After the world with all the black and white, she was happy to be in a place that she was familiar with. It eased her mind and relaxed her muscles. She felt like a pirate again. Even the ridiculous clothing that she found herself in couldn't spoil it for her. Instead, she set to work on shortening the pants so that her legs could be free for movement, leaving only enough cloth behind to cover those parts that it would be indecent to show. She did much the same with the shirt, ripping off the sleeves and tying the rest high to let the sun touch her belly and warm it.

With the scraps, she made bags. Ways to carry the food back and forth with her, to hold the live animals she caught. Sympathy turned one bunny inside out and constructed a few water bags out of its bladder and intestines, which she then filled at the freshwater stream.

She was happy. It was hard not to be.

The pirate lay out in the sun, her storage containers carefully hidden under a fern nearby. She soaked in the rays, smiling. She didn't care about getting to the other island, or doing anything but living. There was no strange technology here, no cars. Nothing she didn't understand. Only her, the wind, the ocean, the sun, and the sand. And survival.

It was hard to be in the middle of all that water. The feeling of it surrounding her was oppressive. But not as bad as it had been on the boat. And she'd found a cave that was dry and good shelter to hide herself in. That helped a good deal.

Ilyien was not on this island with her, but she could still feel him out there. They were still connected, and intimately. She knew that he was not just out there, but very close. She might be able to get to him if she really tried. But she was at this time unwilling to leave the cave.

There were others here with her, too. She wanted to reach out to them, but Ilyien's anger toward her was still very fresh in her mind. Keeping herself secret seemed like something that she should be doing. Especially now, when she was so incredibly vulnerable.

She tried not to think of the dream that she'd had. That wonderful thing that had caused her to wake up with burnt sheets. She didn't want to block anything off from her friend, because the connection with him was all that was keeping her calm. But she did not want to share that. The best way was to keep it out of her mind entirely.

It was easy to make a fire in the cave, and direct the smoke to drift out the mouth. To feed herself with the flames. She thought once or twice about going to ground, feeling it might be safer there, but it got too wet, and she could feel it. She was fine where she was for now. It would be too shallow to protect her, really keep her safe, if she went into the earth.

I know you're still upset with me, friend. She said into the darkness of the cave, reaching out to the other phoenix with a sharp hope in her chest. But please just tell me that you're alright.

Carnivorous fish.

That was the stupidest thing that Betsy had ever heard. Ever. People couldn't cross to the other island because of a bunch of fucking fish? It was only a mile! She could see over there and tell that people were wandering around. She could even hear them shouting to one another sometimes, trying to get information. But nobody was going. Then she heard somebody talking about flesh eating flounders.

Stupid.

Betsy decided that if anybody was going to ford this, it would be her. Not only was it a well known fact that elephants could swim, but her skin was definitely thick enough to withstand a few little lovebites from some goddamned fish.

She waited until nobody else was around and then hid her clothes in the lush greenery near the beach. She transformed into her bigger self and cockily sauntered out toward the water. Fish were not going to stop a Braddock.

Not pausing to test the temperature or anything else, Betsy waded into the depths. She was feeling very confident. Especially after the first nip. It was a gentle thing, almost. Like she'd been poked with a stick in a particularly annoyed manner. She thought that she could take that for a mile. Get to the other side. Rescue people. Or ... something.

But it wasn't a poke with a stick, it turned out. It was a test to see what they were up against. She didn't get much further before there was another bite, harder, deeper, and then another. And another. Betsy trumpeted and turned back toward the beach, swimming as fast and hard as she could. Trying to get away from the fish. And trying to not be mad at herself for running from fish.

She got herself back onto the beach and stood in the sand. She wasn't sure what would happen if she went back to her human body. If the bites would be bigger. If she would bleed more, and possibly die. Her trunk carefully inspected her wounds one by one. Prodding gently at them, a sad grumble in her throat. She needed somebody to help her.