Helena Chu (lostchu) wrote in thefield, @ 2009-07-09 11:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | cross, helena, z - 1st tribe - day 27 |
Porch Sitting
Who: Cross and Helena
When: evening
Where: at the edge of the stream near camp, then their lean-to
The weather had been incredible today, breezy and warm, and Cross had taken full advantage of it. He'd spent the majority of his day repairing their lean-to, mudding the second wall and then moving on to work on the others. He'd started a frame for another of the small structures in the late afternoon, getting as much accomplished as he could before it was time to go and wash up before dinner. He'd made quick work of it despite how nice the cool water had felt on his sunburned neck and shoulders and then made his way back to camp to partake in the seafood stew and grazer jerky that someone-- possibly Sophie-- had prepared.
Now he was washing the plate he'd used; it was one of a set that Ryan had made, and it was actually a cross between a plate and a bowl, with the edges curved up so liquids would not readily pour off of it. He was using sand to clean its surface, only halfway listening to the faint sounds from camp behind him. Once he'd finished with the sand, he'd rinse it in the lake. His close-cropped head was bent as he concentrated on his task; Helena had made good on her promise to trim his hair with the sharply-honed blade of his knife, and he was pleased with the job she'd done.
Helena came down to the water with her own plate. So far everyone had been really good about cleaning what they used and returning the clean dishes to the communal stack next to the fire. She had a lot of things to be grateful for and the small price of still having to do with dishes, well, it was a small thing to accept, given how far pottery had advanced their little tribe. Having a plate to eat off of was like a little slice of home, even if the food didn't quite resemble a hamburger. Dinner had been incredibly satisfying after the day she'd had and she was looking forward to moving their now-dry belongings back into the lean-to and settling down to do a bit of knitting before bed.
"Hey," she said softly as she dropped down to her knees beside Cross. She employed a few handfuls of sand herself and then rinsed it off with the water. A quick glance at him in the fading light showed his skin glowing a slightly angry red. "Hmm, burned your shoulders again," she said. Helena was starting to hope he'd brown a little bit. Of course, now that she'd seen him all the way down to the skin, she knew that he did tan a little. He had well defined lines and the whitest bum she'd ever seen on person.
"Hey," Cross said, turning his head to smile at her, that faint half-smile that graced his face when he let go of the neutral expression he wore most of the time. "Yeah, wore my shirt 'til it got too hot." He flexed one shoulder and then the other and then turned his attention to thoroughly rinsing his plate. "One day I'll get used to the climate here or my skin'll turn to leather. One or the other." He didn't sound overly perturbed about it; he had the feeling that skin cancer was the least of their worries here. The day had been very warm and he'd soon sweated his shirt all the way through, so he'd taken it off. Hopefully he could get his hands on some burnbutter before he lay down for the night.
Helena was already a step ahead of him. "I put a burnbutter bulb in a bowl of water and tucked it into the shadow of our lean-to," she gave him her own small smile. It wasn't that anyone would steal from them, but if she'd left the bowl next to the fire, someone likely would have helped themselves to the bulb. She'd noted a few red faces. It seemed to be a side effect of so many blondes in their group. "We still need to remake the bed though." For a moment, she fell silent. "Did you want to try that flagstone idea that Adnan brought up this afternoon? I noticed a few people gathering flagstones to be used for flooring. Do you want to try that in our hut too or leave the ground softer?"
He should have known that Helena already had it covered. She always seemed to be thinking ahead, thinking about what others would need, and he couldn't deny that he liked being the recipient of that. He'd definitely sleep better tonight with something on his sunburn. When she asked him about the flagstones, he thought about it for a few seconds and then said, "They'd be easier to keep clean. Repel water, too. I think we should try it." He'd thought about looking around for something to make their bed softer anyway, something to put beneath the blankets, but if it was going to get wet every time it rained, they might not have gained anything. The flagstones were a good idea in his opinion.
Helena smiled and nodded, shaking the remaining water drops off of her plate before standing up again. She admired the haircut she'd given him earlier in the day and had to admit that she liked his hair much better when it was short. Just like she liked him without his beard. He just seemed much less intimidating when he was neatly groomed. She'd been nervous about trimming it for him but she'd been careful and took her time. The end result had pleased him, which had made her happy. She still didn't think she'd be cutting her own hair any time soon though. "Ok, something to do tomorrow then." It was also something she could do even if Cross was asked to join the others on the wood hunt. Adnan was still perfecting his chipped stone axes but he may have a working one or two by the following day, in which case there would be a serious push for lumber.
Cross was holding his clean plate in one hand to let it drip dry, and he made a soft snorting sound when Helena said putting down flagstones would be something to do tomorrow. "'Cause it'd be awful to have nothin' to do." His tone was ironic, and the faintest of smiles quirked one corner of his mouth upward. Just about everyone around the camp worked their tails off all the time; there was very little opportunity for leisure, and it amused him to make this bit of a joke at their expense.
Helena smiled at him, offering him her unoccupied hand. "Well you know us, lazing around on the beach all day long. You'd think this place was Club Med." She quietly promised herself that once they had the necessities of life built and they got a sunny day to work with, she would spend a day with her toes buried in the sand. Maybe she'd even try to even out the farmers tan she had from her t-shirt. "Do you have anything else you need to work on tonight?" she asked. She had something she could be doing - knitting. She had a sweater to alter, now that Rook had disappeared. It was a lovely blue and she wondered if maybe it would serve for Rowan if she discovered a way to make it flare over the belly.
Most of Cross' leisure time back in London had involved collapsing in his easy chair after work and falling asleep there-- hence the way he'd fallen asleep the evening before he'd awakened here. He'd never really known what to do with downtime when he had it, so possibly it was just as well that he had plenty to do here. He wrapped her small hand in his much larger one when she offered it and began to walk toward the spot where they generally stacked the clean dishes. "Nah," he replied when she asked him if he had anything he needed to work on. "I'm done in for the day."
"I have a lot of knitting to do but I feel like I have sand in my eyes." She smothered a yawn with her free hand after she'd set her plate down on the stack near the fire. "But I can get that burnbutter on to your back and shoulders first. Maybe ease a bit of the discomfort so you can sleep better," she said as she offered him a brief smile as she brushed the thick curtain of her hair back out of her face. It hadn't escaped Helena's notice that the large man she bunked with had a tendency to crash hard at night. Especially with so much work to be done, drawing on a lot of his physical reserves to complete that work. She was concerned Cross wasn't getting enough food to fill in that portion of the equation that was size, physical exertion and consumption.
Cross put his plate back as well, and when he noticed her yawn, that prompted him to yawn, too. People always said that yawns were contagious, and it seemed to be true. "We gotta put the bedding back too," he reminded her. Somehow, that task felt almost insurmountable, which was ridiculous after the amount of manual labor he'd put in that day. What was remaking a makeshift bed on a packed dirt floor? Possibly he'd simply hit his quota of tired now that he had a reasonably full belly.
Helena nodded again. "Yeah, they're still spread out on the bushes behind the lean-to." She lead the way away from the firepit and around the stumps and logs that were being used as benches. The shadows between the lean-tos were deep and the wind was whispery in the tall bushes with their dancing, trailing branches. Their stuff was where she'd left it though, everything laid out to dry. She'd have to take careful pains to dry out the balls of yarn next to the fire over the next few days, but other than that there was no harm done. They each bundled up a blanket and she ducked in to tuck the bed into its proper spot. Once that was done their possessions were gathered. The ground was still wet under the roof of the hut but no longer muddy. She didn't think it would soak through. Pillows were passed in and then the bed was ready. She climbed out to retrieve her bowl with the bulb in it. "It's so dark in there," she commented to Cross. Now that the walls were mudded there was only one three foot opening down near the foot of their bed for light. Not for the first time did she wish they could find something that would make a decent candle.
"A little dark out here, too," Cross said. The flicker of the firelight was farther from them than from the other lean-tos, although he didn't really mind that. Relatively speaking there was so little privacy here in this world that he'd take all he could get. He seated himself on the ground outside the lean-to with a sigh, figuring there was more room out here to have burnbutter applied than there was inside. The breeze was cool and refreshing, though he supposed it would feel cold to his sunburn if he was out here for long, and the camp was quiet. Such a change from the previous day and the storm. He hoped such weather phenomenons weren't the norm.
Helena sighed as well as she dropped to her knees and eased behind him. Using her thumb nails she split open the bulb and squeezed out the faintly astringent smelling butter inside. Loading her fingers up with the gunk, she gently started to massage it in. Helena made sure to liberally coat the worst spots (across the back of his broad shoulders seemed to get it the worst) before working it into his skin. She even saved a bit for his cheeks and nose, which were also an angry red. "That should be good, hmm?" she asked as she sat beside him, rubbing the remainder of the oily pulp on her shins. She'd discovered that the burn butter wasn't a half bad moisturizer even on unburned skin.
"Yeah," Cross said, flexing his shoulders and finding that they felt much better than they had before. "Thanks." Nothing like being a fair-skinned blond in a harsh environment. "Wonder if puttin' that on would help keep off the sun, or if it'd be like puttin' cooking oil on your skin?" he mused. "Had a friend who used to do that to try to tan." Back in California, what felt like a million years ago when he'd been sixteen, seventeen, eighteen and running with a pack of kids as undisciplined and amoral as he'd been at the time. When he thought back on it, he didn't even recognize the person he'd been then.
"Really?" Her nose wrinkled slightly at the thought of basting herself in the canola oil that had been in the cupboard over the stove back home. "Eesh, that doesn't sound like the best idea." She chuckled, amazed that someone would go through such lengths. She cast a curious eye on her partner though. He'd never mentioned friends before, not even once. Curiosity bubbled up inside of her. Sure, she hadn't offered him every little tidbit of her life, she had certainly shared a bit here and there. Even some things that were painful. "You never talk about your friends," she said as she propped her cheek on her fist, dark eyes looking at him. "Do you have anyone missing you back home?" She didn't think she'd asked him that before. That seemed very odd to her.
Cross shrugged a shoulder. "Didn't really have any. People I worked with, mainly." He'd gotten transferred to London several years back, and for the most part, the English were much different from what he'd become accustomed to in California. He'd never been a wildly social person anyway, and he'd found himself mostly keeping to himself. There'd been the occasional date, and every so often he'd gone for drinks with some of his co-workers, but that had been it. "Didn't have much family left either, back in Alabama and California where I grew up. They might miss me. I dunno." His expression was noncommittal, as if he hadn't thought much about it.
She could have pressed for more, she supposed. Her dark eyes sharply took in his casual air, tasting it for any signs of his deeply hidden emotions. Tonight, there was none. Whatever he felt about the people he'd known or his family it had either been flat or it was so well buried she'd never catch a glimpse of it. Not unless he was really ready to share, but she was skeptical about that. Instead, she gave him a smile and looped one arm through his as they sat on what was effectively their front porch. "I find that hard to believe. You're so likable!" She giggled quietly, hoping not to attract too much attention in their direction. She knew that plenty of people found Cross intimidating. Helena would never be able to explain how she'd ended up immune to that aura he threw off.
"Likable," Cross repeated, turning his head to glance down at her. "Can't say anyone's ever said that about me before." His tone held barely concealed amusement; was she flirting with him? He found it to be one of life's miracles that she'd seen past the gruff, surly front that he put up to keep people at arms length, to protect the softer sides of himself from the light. It was a mechanism born of his rough growing up years, he'd occasionally thought when he thought about it at all. "Stubborn, ornery, difficult. Those'd work." After the briefest flicker of hesitation for the idea that they were visible if anyone cared to look, his head lowered, and his lips brushed over hers. He wasn't a fan of PDA at all, but it was dark and shadowy and there was nobody immediately around. Close enough.
Even in the dark there was a sparkle to her dark eyes as she tilted her face up to receive the brief little kiss. "There's a first for everything. And I've already called you stubborn and difficult to your face." She chuckled as they came apart and settled back a little bit. "It wouldn't be fair if I didn't let you know exactly what I think." She chuckled and leaned against him just a bit. "For some reason you don't scare me, Cross. You never have, beyond that first meeting where you startled me pretty badly." There'd been a knife involved then, but really, when she looked back on it, it was more that he jumped out from behind a tree than that she'd felt frightened.
"Not tryin' to scare you," Cross dissented as he felt her slender body relax against his side. Almost idly, he slid an arm around her. Had he been trying to at first? That was a complicated question, one that Cross would not have been able to answer in so many words. Not physically, no. He might look rough, but he'd never harm a woman; in his mother's intermittent and inconsistent teachings as he'd been growing up, he'd been trained to see women as weaker vessels, more delicate and in need of protection. Emotionally... well, he might possibly have been trying to put her off as he did just about everyone. He had the deep-seated belief that he would ultimately let everyone down in that sense, so what was the point in getting close? It hadn't worked, she hadn't heeded the invisible 'keep out' signs he wielded with his demeanor, with his body language.
"Good," she chuckled. "I'd hate for you to waste all of your time on something like that." It was...more than a little bit nice to sit and talk quietly with him on a breezy evening. Maybe they could make a go of things on this little island. Maybe everything would work out for the best here. They could start on Adnan's building plans and everything would be fine. She rubbed her cheek lightly against the greasy, warm skin of his shoulder. "Adnan has some good plans in the works for a meeting hall type of building. Me and the other guys on the council need to start to organize a work crew schedule." She knew Cross would accept his orders with his usual stoicism. She thought he'd appreciate a project like a meeting hall, though. Something big and solid to occupy his time.
"Back behind here?" Cross asked, instantly interested at the mention of a larger, more solid building. He waved one hand in the direction of the shrubs and rock behind the lean-tos. "Wish we would've had that yesterday, when the storm came through." It would've been so much better if they could have herded everyone into a solid building for protection from the hail and torrential rains. He'd definitely be first in line to do whatever needed doing to move that project along. It would be a secure location if they encountered any kind of threat that went beyond the weather, as well.
Helena knew that would spark his interest. "He hasn't surveyed a spot yet," she said in a hushed whisper as people passed between their lean-to and the bushes on their way to the spring. "But the council gave him the go-ahead with the promise that we'd put together a crew to help. I'd really like you to go with a few of the guys to locate some lumber. Probably the mast trees. Adnan's plan involves a raised floor sitting on logs, then possibly tiled with stone to prevent splinters. If you can get some real stockpiles of wood brought to the island, we're in good shape. He has even found some stone that chips well into axe heads." She thought that news would please him.
"Anything I can do," Cross told her with a nod, figuring she'd know that anyway. Any labor, no matter how back-breaking or exhausting, he was more than willing. Hard work gave him a purpose, something visible to contribute. That was something he'd always needed at any job he'd ever had, and it held true now even though he didn't have technical employment. "Stone tile... good idea. Several people still don't have shoes." Who knew who else might show up unshod? He chewed on his lower lip for a second, then added, "Axes'd make a world of difference." Thus far, he liked everything he'd heard about the building plans.
Helena nodded. "So the plans are that we get the meeting hall built, which can serve as a dining hall, an emergency shelter and also as Father Alex's church. Then we work on people's individual and private huts or lean-tos. After that, I'm hoping on a kiln for large pieces like furnaces for the lean-tos, a smokehouse, an outhouse over that fissure that Ryan found and a woodshed so that we can keep our lumber dry." She heaved a huge sigh. "Lots of work, huh?" But if they got those things done, they'd be well on their way. "If we get those things done then maybe we can work on a stillhouse or cooler, some sort of hutch for the pesks that'll serve them a little better and keep them safe in the storms. Analiese said that they're starting to adjust to captivity and building their nests and stuff. There's also Lucien's goat. Maybe some sort of stable..." She was running on and on and she knew it, leaning against his side. Her words were almost drowsy as she watched the flames whirl and dance in the firepit.
"Then by the time we get all that done, we might just keel over," Cross said, amusement in his tone. He'd nearly said keel over dead, but fortunately he'd stopped himself before the words escaped. "Yeah, lots of work." He didn't sound doubtful that they could accomplish it, though. Shoulder to the wheel, push it 'round, and never lose sight of the goal. That was his philosophy. "You sure you wanna knit tonight?" he asked her as he felt her slight weight increase its drag on his side and listened to the drowsy tone of her voice.
She chuckled as she covered her mouth with her hands, smothering a yawn. "I should," she told him. "So much to get done." And yet, the wind was whispering in the bushes behind their lean-to, making that pleasant shushing language of trees and leaves. He was warm and smelled like smoke and soap pods. She smothered a second yawn and sighed. "If I tucked you into bed, would you sleep?" He was generally good like that. On a warm night like tonight they could give up the extra bedding that her robe turned in to and tuck it up above the open doorway of their lean-to. It would make it black as pitch inside but it'd mean privacy.
"'Magine I would," Cross drawled, smiling at her tone. "Think I could stretch out here in front of the lean-to and sleep." He was that worn out from the day he'd put in. "The bed'd be nicer though." Particularly if she was also in it, he thought. He'd never imagined a circumstance in which he'd be sleeping regularly with one woman, but here he was. It had only taken a random teleportation to another planet.
Helena could imagine sleeping with one man every night. In fact, it had been something she'd missed so much that she couldn't even admit it to herself. She'd just thought there was something wrong with the lumpy old mattress and then, well, there were the laughers. Now though, when they were snug in their dark lean-to and she could hear his breathing (and sometimes soft snores if he was flat on his back, not that she would ever complain) and feel the rise and fall of his chest, she could finally drop into a deep sleep. It had even been the same when she'd shared a hammock with Rowan. She just needed that contact. She chuckled at his offer to sleep outside. "Uh uh, after all the work we've done, we're sleeping under our roof." She twisted away from him to sort out her knitting back into its pouch.
"Sounds good to me," Cross said amiably. He got to his feet, stretching and sighing and then feeling of his shoulders to see if the burnbutter was dry enough for him to lie down. It seemed to be, and he leaned down to loosen the laces of his work shoes so he could slide his feet out of them. He was always careful to tuck them away inside their lean-to, since he'd heard about the tiny monkeys that scampered around at night. He wasn't sure that they'd be able to lift his heavy, clunky shoes, but he wouldn't want to take any chances. He reached inside the lean-to to put them away and then climbed inside it himself, sitting down on the bed to take off his socks and wriggle out of his pants, leaving him clad only in his underwear. It was a very warm night, thus he had no interest in sleeping in the bulky khakis.
Helena climbed in after him, leaning over his legs to tuck her knitting pouch deep into the vee of their lean-to. She was also pretty worried about what those little monkeys might take in their curiosity. Once that was situated and Cross had folded away his pants into the same storage, she shook out her robe and tucked it over the door. A little bit of light snuck around the edges but otherwise all light was snuffed. As she came back to stretch out next to him, she sighed with contentment. "It'll be nice once we get enough building done that we can concentrate on... I guess a few luxuries. Furniture, maybe." A bed, dear lord, my kingdom for a bed.
Cross had settled in completely on top of the covers; he disliked feeling bundled in when it was that warm outside. "Gonna be a while," he said mildly. There was enough work to occupy twice the number of people they had for weeks, maybe longer. He didn't sound all that perturbed about it, though. Work was a part of life; it was something he understood and could relate to. He turned his head in her direction as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark, waited for the lines and angles of her profile to become visible again.
She rolled onto her stomach and pulled her pillow up against her chest as she turned her face toward him as well. "I know. I wonder if I could make a bed though. For us." She smiled in the dark, shifting until her hip bumped against his. "Nothing special, just tall enough to avoid soaking the bedding when it rains again." She certainly had an idea about how to do that. It would take a bit of time but she had that, despite all of the work that they had to do. She couldn't really justify taking any lumber away from the large projects though. Especially since, without any proper saws or axes, it would going to be especially hard work just to collect the wood.
"I'm sure you could." When her hip touched his, he slid one big hand over the swell of her buttock and then up to the small of her back, where he let it rest. "Might take some work, but you could do it." He felt sure Helena could do anything she put her mind to; she was extremely competent in her quiet, self-confident way. He exhaled a sigh, beginning to relax. "Nice to be inside, bed or not." Well, as inside as it was possible to get without an actual building.
"Yeah," she said softly in the darkness. "Even though there is no moon, there's so many stars. It's like trying to sleep with the lights on out here where there is no tree canopy to block it." The warm weight of his hand on her back was nice as well. Comforting in its acceptable possessive feeling. He was never aggressively possessive when they were out among the others but it was a secret pleasure of Helena's when they were in private. The casual way that he had slipped into her life and become a vital part of her day never ceased to amaze her. "Not to mention, having the bedding relatively dry when the dew sets is nice too." And then there was the privacy. That was most certainly wonderful.
If Cross was tired enough, he could most likely sleep anywhere and under most conditions, light included, but he preferred for it to be dark. It was nice to be able to have even the smallest of preferences met out here. "Mm-hmm," he murmured in acknowledgment. He was absolutely going to be grateful for the privacy they now had, he felt sure. This close in to everyone else, near-silence would be a necessity, but he didn't think that would be a major problem, particularly considering the alternative.
He had his heavy hand resting on her back but it wasn't enough weight to prevent Helena from turning slowly onto her side. She fit her entire body against him rather that just her hip. At least, even though there were other people settling in for the night nearby, they never had to worry about creaking bedsprings. She sighed as she draped her own arm over his body. Even lying next to him in the dark she felt small but yet again, she marveled that it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling with Cross. As far as she was concerned, there wasn't a mean or violent bone in his body. Maybe that was a bit deluded, given his scars which had obviously been caused by violence, but it's what she felt when with him. She pressed a kiss against his shoulder before resting her cheek on it. "I like our little house," she said. It wasn't Park Avenue and a part of her was really grateful of that.
This was relaxing. Anything could happen at anytime, Cross realized, but it helped his peace of mind considerably to have these interludes, these moments of calm. He smiled in the darkness, tipping his face down to kiss her forehead. "Me too," he replied. While it was true they couldn't see out right now, nobody could see in either, and the bed was as comfortable as one could expect under the circumstances. Idly, his fingers stroked her back through the material of her t-shirt, and there was nothing but the sound of their breathing for long moments. "G'night," he murmured finally.
Helena sighed at the lazy caress on her back and paid him back in kind as the pad of he thumb followed the groove of his ribs along his side. It was a lucky thing that the weather was holding out. She felt sure at some point it may get cool enough that they'll have to go beneath the blanket but for now, closeness was enough. "Sleep well," she murmured drowsily back at him, certain that she herself would. A day like today was almost enough to banish all the worries of the previous day. Now it was time to let the mind wander on toward sleep and wonder what the next day might bring.