unimaginable

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Mandem was injured when he washed up on shore, yeah.  Yaz had been looking after him.  Unconscious.  The injury turned bad in the trip through the tunnels and the doctors amputated.  A bloody miracle he stayed alive…”  Emre, keeping the bitterness out of his tone.  But if Damien had died in the tunnels, that would’ve been the real miracle.  

“Calls himself Damien.  I dunno nothing more about him,” Emre lied, but he wasn’t going to spill Maura’s secrets.  Instead, he turned Clementine’s focus elsewhere by saying,  “Some people show up on Meridium injured or dead, innit.  Nellz - Hazel’s sister. She had a sister, didn’t she.  Did sister die here?”

Emre shook his head about gathering materials.  “This new baby farm’s got all sorts of volunteers who want to help with the tame side of things innit.  Tomas can handle all that.  He’ll delegate until people get tired of taking orders from him and walk off the job, lazy sods.  But I reckon by then he’ll get what he needs, then we’ll help, yeah?”  His smile was sleek as he gazed at Clemetine.

“Don’t need your jungle know-how, luv.  I need your security know-how.  How do we protect the food stores after harvest.  Something that don’t require guard patrol 24 hours a day, yeah.  And we don’t got no chains and padlocks or chicken wire on hand, do we.  I want protection and traps and…erm…what’s what thing called?”  Emre racked his brain. “Deterrents, innit.”

North Beach was gone, and in Emre’s opinion, everything that came with it.  Including all those old, tired beefs between this faction and that faction.  He didn’t care.  This was South Beach, an opportunity to build from scratch, including relationships.  Clem’s old squabbles was insignificant, to Emre.  

Instead, he pin-pointed on Clementine’s self-deprecation.  He knew she had experience surviving in the jungle, he knew she was a bodyguard. There was more?  “What’re you on about then? What other skills?”

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

“Oh, I see.” And she did, her fingers straying to the mark of her own arrival. A little lower and Clementine would have found herself leaning on the mercy of other survivors, too. “Your brother is hell of a doctor then,” she says, a little relieved to know he isn’t someone of her acquaintance.

She winces. “Her sister was gone when we found them. I never asked whether it occurred on arrival or beforehand. It seems like she does better without bringing it up,” she points out, softly, a slight warning to her tone. Asking her is a mistake Clementine won’t allow if it means dragging up memories of Hazel’s worst moments.

It’s nice to know they aren’t back at square one when it comes to farm things. Clementine exhales with relief, nodding, and then at once snorts. “If they know what’s best for them, they’ll follow orders for a while yet until we get things settled. Or until he becomes a real ass, whichever comes first.” She hasn’t forgiven the way he yelled at her like a child their first meeting.

But such thoughts are distracted when he lists off the things he wants for the farm. She frowns, puzzling through the pieces of this puzzle. “Guards 24/7 are the most foolproof method of keeping things safe, but if you don’t want that, something a little sneakier might be required. Traps, yeah, if we can figure out how to get a few of them that we can put together and put aside again when we need to walk over them.” Permanent traps seem like a liability to anyone on the farm who stumbles into them on accident.

She paces, thinking about their options. “Lights are an easy deterrent. Not many people are reckless enough to steal unless it’s dark. Maybe some sort of alarm system, like stumble across a... I don’t know, but it tugs the line and rings some coconuts.”

❦

Magnolia wasn’t entirely sure how she’d become the island therapist for everyone from Seamus to this wayward little Not-Williams, but at this point she didn’t entirely mind it. Just hummed thoughtfully as Clementine seemed to be uncorked and spilled the staining red wine of her life all over the table. 

“It is,” she agreed. “Having inalienable truth ripped away hurts.” The question was a big one, one Magnolia had no right to be answering, but of course she rarely paid any attention to what right she had to do anything. “Likely, yes. There wouldn’t be deception in between the two of you, but your father would remain the same.” No paused, but what did she care? “He isn’t worth the time it takes to insult him. Spineless, weak-willed, weaseling little shit stain that he is. I believe the two of you, even raised together, would have been pitted against the other. By the sounds of that industry, by the parents.”

She couldn’t imagine the technicalities of their positions, of the silver screen showings, the acting, the misconceived entitlement. But she knew little girls, and she knew poor fathers. “It doesn’t matter now. You’re here now, in this state.”

It was Magnolia’s time to blink. “You have a daughter?” It shouldn’t be any surprise. The island tore everyone away from someone, but another unmoored girl in the world made her chest tight with empathy she didn’t want to share. “A spine that weak? You could have broken it. It would have made him accountable, for one. Make him feel an ounce of the ache he spread to everyone around him. Or, you could have blackmailed him. Handy, when done uncompromisingly. It sounds like his money was the only worthwhile part of him.” She had her doubts that Clementine was capable of blackmail. 

Magnolia leaned back in her chair again and scrutinized Clementine, this new definition for her, and her capabilities, re-contextualizing her presence in her house. “Huh,” she said. “I don’t suppose that was a frog that made you swim with the fishes, or?” Jokes aside, there was an ounce of new respect blooming for the girl. No made the blind assumption that her descendants were largely competent and sensible, and Violet, Hazel’s mother, sounded like it. Their choice in people to guard and protect them had to be credible. After all, Magnolia’s had been. 

Smiling she nodded. “Good. Yes, they were. The book I found has several edits made to my journals. Fewer nun insults and less monetary notes.” No laughed and brushed her hair back out of her eyes. “I’m glad Hazel has you here. And had you in the Jungle. She’s fond of you.”

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

Clementine heaves a sigh. “I didn’t plan on telling her. When I ended up here, it didn’t seem important and when I ended up here,” she says, emphasizing here, referring to this beach rather than the Labyrinth. “Well, I wanted to see her once. Figure out what to tell her, if anything. Decided on nothing... which went about as well as any of my other plans.” She doesn’t know how much Magnolia knows about this particular meeting between sisters, the one where Tamyra chose to save a stranger and regretted it an instant later.

Magnolia doesn’t pull her punches. Clementine pauses, blinking once and then twice, lost for words. “Uh. Well, yeah, that’s what I think sometimes. He’s not my favorite person in the world. I don’t think there was a right answer for anything. Telling Tamyra about me wouldn’t have solved anything. The only solution is not making the choice at all and it’s too late for that answer. I agree - there’s nothing to be done now, I’m here.”

She forgets how little people know about her here. Her eyes lowered. “I did. Her name was Farrah.” An amused smiles crosses her lips. “For her sake, I would have blackmailed him. But for all his faults, I wasn’t without funds for a time. I didn’t want to fling myself into the limelight for him either. It’s amazing enough people didn’t figure it out as is. If Tamyra had gotten bigger, maybe they would have.” The only thing worse than Tamyra finding out about who she is is on the island, it’s her finding out via the paparazzi.

Clementine snorts. “It wasn’t a frog, no. Would you believe me if I said I was a marine biologist major in college, but frogs are still the thing that creep me out most?”

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Emre almost smiled as Clem said she was trying to make herself useful.  He’d been worried that now with everyone starting from scratch across the board, that Clementine might take this chance to explore other options  But this seemed perfect opportunity for Emre to snap her up.  Maybe it was even a hint from Clementine herself to do just that.  

“We had to,” Emre said even though he exhaled and shook his head ruefully.  He’d hated the tunnels, and Emre didn’t hide how he felt about it.   The trip was harrowing, arduous, desperate.  They had to abandon some things in the tunnels as it got harder to travel; Emre intended to go back for them eventually.  But he never wanted to return to North Beach, ever again.

“Yaz had an unconscious patient on the old farm, and we had to go back for him, yeah.  We managed to, erm, save him but the doctors took his leg off.  Iyaz and, erm, your girl, yeah?”  Emre was too tired to remember Theo’s name,  “He’s recovering in our home.  Dunno if he’ll make it.”

In the semi-circle of abandoned houses near the farm, Emre pointed to the one on the end, standing on short stilts.  “That one’s ours.  Building an extension off the side for Yaz to set up his medical practice, innit.  And he’ll be next to the apothy-whatever, and the distillery’s going to be on the other side, over there.  Reckon it’s good to keep the doctor near the farm.”

He looked at Clementine, as he finished scraping jelly from his coconut.  “You’ve got to find a home or all the good ones’ll sell out, babes.  I can help you if you like.  Then you come work on the farm, yeah?  You handled yourself well on North Beach, don’t see why you can’t continue here.  Tomas is running things a bit different now as we’re setting up.  I need you with me, my darling.”  

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

From his expression, Clementine can only assume he hates the tunnels, too. She makes a noise of sympathy. “I don’t think I’ll make the trek through it. Ever. I’ve had enough excursions beneath the island for the time being.”

A pang hits her of all the things lost. She shakes it off with a tilt of her head, surprise crossing her face. “What was wrong with him? Aside from... cutting off his leg.” A grimace crosses her face, imagining trying to navigate everything this island flung at people with only one leg to stand on. Hopefully this isn’t one of her friends - she’s certainly avoided them enough the past few days that it could be. “Who, uh, who was it? The man?”

She nods. “Lots of supplies at the farm for a doctor. Do you need help gathering anything? I suppose we need to rebuild the materials, too, so we’ll have to go foraging eventually.” What did she recall from her time in the jungle? Her chin tilts, eyes on the sky in thought. The jungle has no shortage of flora and fauna. “Couple of pieces around here we can use.” And some she didn’t recognize at all. “Some we should probably test before using too much, too.” Not that she’s looking forward to it.

Clementine laughs. “I’ll find somewhere. I lived in a tree for a couple weeks after the whole fire thing.” It’s a mark of how far they’ve come that she isn’t threatening him for his supposed part in it. The mystery of the whole thing remains unsolved. “I didn’t plan on working anywhere else. My best work is here for the time being. Not much I can do with any of my other skills.”

[ @clementineike ]

Stupid sling, stupid rockfall, stupid sprained arm. That was Madi’s honest opinion about everything. Just when she should have been at full force, helping on the new farm so they could have enough food up for the entire island as soon as possible. But nope, she was working at half capacity, which really meant she couldn’t do so much she would have normally did.

This left doing whatever she was able to with one hand (maybe trying to strain her injured hand a bit when she could), and it didn’t feel much, it didn’t feel enough at all.

And she couldn’t even tend to her bees because they were back on the other side of the island. If her bees were even there. They were possibly swallowed up in the earth… Not that she spent too much time thinking about it, nope.

At least Clementine was helping her. “Thanks for this, I really appreciate the help. My arms is– it’s annoying, let’s just say that.” She was hoping it would get better fast, even if she knew logically it was going to take some time. “How are you settling in, by the way? Did you find a good place to live for yourself?”

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

This is more hands-on than her usual gig at the farm, but Clementine won’t object to anything that’ll keep her busy and moving. “Don’t worry about it. You’re doing me more of a favor than anything, I can’t stand just-- Well, having nothing to do is a nightmare.” Yes, this is much preferable.

She nudges a barrel with her foot. “This one is empty. Suppose you could roll it with one hand, right?” The last thing she wants to do is make Madi feel inadequate, but Clementine struggles to find tasks that won’t aggravate Madi’s injury. She keeps an eye on Madi out of her peripheral, wanting to make sure she doesn’t use her bad arm.

“No place yet. But I think Vince is trying to get something setup with all the folks from the Labyrinth. I... Well, I was thinking of shacking up with them, or finding somewhere near the farm. Think near them is better. Bit tired of doing things lone wolf, it seems silly to not accept help when it’s offered.” Not that she finds it very easy to accept the hand people hold out to her - she’s trying, though. “What about you? You finding everything alright? You still haven’t really said what happened with your arm.” Clementine looks at Madi then focuses on the task at hand, deciding it’ll be up to Madi if she’d like to share or not.

❦

“Oh, I am aware, I have been told her side of the story. It sounds like your father was cruel in that regard. Selfish and entitled.” She said it like it was a simple observation, like she was noting the weather or the temperature of her tea. The character of a man she would never meet mattered very little to her. “I’ll tell you the same that I told her: don’t be bitches to the other with no reason. The island does that enough. Now, if you have a reason, I don’t care, but neither of you are to blame for the actions of that man.”

Magnolia’s gaze was dubious at best at Clementine’s assertion. “Sure.” No set about unpacking her bag, setting bottles aside to be rinsed out before refilled and tucking tools and items away on the shelves around the kitchen. “Why did you keep a cheating man’s secret? If it was that dramatic and important that you keep your mouth shut, it seems to me that you could have ruined him.” No shrugged, tempted to tack on that she should have ruined him. God knows she would have. 

Her chore done, No dropped into a chair across from Clementine, feeling a bit like a therapist if she was being honest. This was Hazel’s friend, she reminded herself, and surely, as poor as some of Hazel’s judgement was, that meant this other young woman had some redeeming quality. Someone like her granddaughter surely could not adore someone who was entirely useless or unkind. 

“You do?” No sat forward, invested now like she hadn’t been before. In the past her security team had been family, hired or not. The bond between granddaughter and frogphobic came with a new identifier now. “You came to the island in the line of duty to the Beauforts. How?”

Mention of her memoir made Magnolia glance to her own copy on the shelf and back to Clementine. “Huh. Bizarre. If I hear any embarrassing internal thoughts of mine from a century ago around the island I’m coming after you. Especially if it’s about boarding school.” 

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ 

Magnolia’s words bring her to a pause. Very few people see the tale of two sisters as anything more than a blame game for the people least to blame for it. “You’d be right,” she allows, grimacing for her father, a man to whom she owes so much and regards so little. “Not that he would ever admit it. Why would it? I don’t think he ever imagined us meeting. She was gone by the time he took any interest in my life. Or he didn’t intend to have another child at all and can’t figure out to do with the scraps.” Her own tone is as matter-of-fact as Magnolia’s.

Clementine shrugs. “I don’t hate her. I wish I did because it would be easier.” Then maybe she could let it go. Or she could brush off the sharpness of Tamyra’s words and minimize the way they cut. “I suppose it’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? To think you’ve been alone your whole life and then get walloped with the knowledge that you aren’t. Would it be easier - you think - if we were full sisters?” She doesn’t know why she’s asking Magnolia this, but the woman is steady. Gentle, but firm in a way Clementine appreciates.

She blinks. “What would it have changed for me to expose him? For a time, I considered it, but I wanted to have him in my life somehow. When my daughter was born, I thought things were changing for the better. They didn’t, of course, but I had hoped. After... all of that,” she says, knowing Magnolia won’t know what that entails and not inclined to explain what the loss feels like. “I figured there were more important things. He isn’t worth it.” She can’t imagine treating her daughter the way her parents treated her, after all.

“Security. With my skill-set and my age, I was a good bodyguard for them. I came here because last time I stopped someone from hassling them, the person found me and tried to kill me. Their aim was shoddy - maybe they imagined the water would do the trick. Instead, I ended up here. Lucky, I suppose,” she says with a wry smile, as if she isn’t quite sure whether this is an altogether better place to be.

Somber subjects aside, Clementine laughs. “I don’t plan on sharing your thoughts. It’s unnerving enough to know this many pieces of them. It’s strange to sit here and talk with you after reading that - like reading a diary. Which I suppose those were.”

Location: 21st century farm Time: evening, sometime after South Beach arrival

@clementineike

Emre had returned from a six day trek.  Six days, after ample logistics and preparation with Tomas and others, to go back through those blasted tunnels, return to North Beach.  They made this journey, prepared for the slog, and the intent;  gathering and salvaging whatever they could from the farm, from any remaining scraps anywhere else they could.  They had an old luggage carrel from the train (a bloody train) to donkey some of the heaver things; but everything else was mostly toted on back.

It wasn’t easy.  Emre was exhausted; but unlike the stress of the month of snow, and the subsequent flooded, strained farm afterwards, this sort of exhaustion was rather pleasant.  It really was just a matter of productivity, and Emre had been like this from a young age: so long as he was successful and productive, he was happy.

So he was lounging against a tree on the new South Beach farm, tenderly scraping out the jelly contents of a green coconut, when he saw Clementine coming his way.  “Alright, Clem,” he greeted, swallowing down some of the jelly.  He lifted the coconut spoon, offering her a bite.  

“What’ve you been up to, then, luv,” he asked, feeling more calm than he’d felt in weeks.  “Settled down somewhere, you and your mates?”

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ 

There isn’t much at the old beach for her to miss. Maybe the fire extinguisher, just in case. Maybe the extra boots given her own are waterlogged. No, the thing she misses above all is impractical. Useless. There’s no reason to venture back for it, but all the same, she misses Farrah’s onesie. Clementine marches to the farm - this, at least, is something she doesn’t have to miss because it hasn’t changed. The type of food, the type of organization - that’s different, but not this. Not--

“Thanks, I guess,” she says, startled, taking the spoon, sighing as she settles near the tree. “The usual. Staring people down. Trying to figure out how to make myself useful.” Fat load of good she’s been at it. “What about you? I haven’t seen you around here. Not much the last couple days. Figured you went back? Heard a couple people did that. Mad, all of you, if that’s the case.”

She’s not going back. Not today. Spending the day trapped in a cave, waiting for someone to rescue her - that was enough time in a cave. She shivers a little, passing the spoon back to him. “No, not yet. Still waiting to see where. Don’t really fancy a roof over my head just yet.” Clementine eyes him thoughtfully. “You? The farm, I take it? Or have you got a little place for yourself with that brother of yours?”

Location: Between the Farm and the Low Settlement Time: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ @clementineike​

Vincent didn’t put much weight into being hopeful. The jungle didn’t appreciate it and the beach, since his arrival, had given as much as it then took away. Him and hope had a rocky relationship, but right now, with a new farm and a new roof over Hen’s head in the closest thing to suburbia they’d had since they drowned, he could at least shake hope’s hand. 

So, when he all but loped up to Clementine’s side just a scant few days after they had all wandered, weary and leery, to these new sands, he wore a wide smile. “Heya, Tiney!” He slung his arm over her shoulders and tugged her, willing or not, into a firm side-hug. “You find a place yet? Hen asked about you, says you looked mopey.” He didn’t, Henry had said she had looked tired, but Vincent was his guardian and as such could manipulate his sweet baby boy words for dramatic effect and maximum annoyance. “He was right. You look droopy too, you good?”

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

“Did you find the alcohol stash?” she questions as Vince appears, his hug prompting an instinctive, surprised flinch before she settles into the touch. His, after all, is familiar and welcome when she feels a strange sort of coldness. “No place, just hanging around the farm. Or wherever someone needs me. No time for rest in the meantime.” Clementine doesn’t want to rest either.

With a huffing laugh, she looks around for his usual shadow. “Is that what he says? Mopey? Kind of him to think, but no. I’m fine.” She nudges him towards the farm, or mostly nudges him with her hip to guide him that direction. “Just... It was a long walk here. And the caves... Well, did you think those are a little... spooky? Or...” She trails off, uncertain, lips pulling at the corners into a frown. Then a more pertinent question strikes and she lifts her head to study him. “Were you alright during the earthquakes? You and Henry got out okay?”

“I tried to get you to join in on the fun when you were working,” Hazel reminds Clem with a little laugh. “You never did.” And then her face falls. “You don’t celebrate… anything?” She doesn’t want to tread a sensitive line here – maybe it’s faith-based, or something like that, and isn’t this something she should already know about a person she calls friend, and Hazel’s thoughts snowball quickly but what she lands on is: “Not even your birthday?”

Still, she cracks a little smile at the mention of getting paid better. “That’s true, I tried to do that once, with the hospice center, on Easter, but my mom – oh, I dunno! What was the last one you went to?” Hazel tilts her head, genuinely curious. “Are you a good dancer? I feel like you probably are.”

“Hey-yuh,” Hazel whines, stretching the word into two syllables as Clem points out her clumsiness (like it’s not just a fact of life for Hazel). “Hm?” She pipes up curiously as Clem turns her back, but then grins and takes the wiggling hand. “Let’s do it! Do you like my shirt, by the way?” She does a little side-to-side sway to show of its bright, floral patterns. “I thought it was – what? Oh, I mean…” Her lips purse a little. “It’s not impossible.” She can only think of one person, really, but it’s been ages since she spoke to them…

Unless… Ivy wouldn’t, right? No, her sister could never hate her. Even after…

Hazel shakes her head to clear that mental debri then tilts it, trying to catch onto what’s playing. When that doesn’t work, she glances around, picking up on the rhythm everyone else seems to be moving to. Hopping around a bit, she asks over the din: “Can you hear the song?!”

“I’ve always thought it was important to be professional. Didn’t want to give your mom an excuse to send me packing,” she points out. Then sighs at Hazel’s question, dragging a hand through her hair. “Not really. I mean, I enjoy Halloween and the parties I’ve seen. But the other holidays? Not so much.” She laughs, head shaking. “My mother has never been one for celebrations. Well, not with me. So, no, definitely not my birthday.”

Clementine thinks. “It must have been that party. I don’t remember going to another one before this island happened.” She grins, inclining her head. “I like to think I am. I don’t dance much anymore, we didn’t have music in the jungle. Much. Unless someone is a singer and I don’t know about it.” It’s distinctly possible. “And what’s dancing without some music?” This she pairs with a slight look towards the dance floor which makes her next move to drag Hazel there all the more obvious.

Hazel does a spin as they reach the dance floor. Clementine tries not to look like her brain is short-circuiting and mostly fails with a strangled sort of laugh. “You look...” Incredible, but that’s a little cheesy. She grins and settles on: “Very beautiful. It fits you. Where did you find this? Island Boutique?” Maybe Tamyra has one. She doesn’t know if her sister would wear this precise shade of bright and floral colors, but maybe.

✦✧

“Really?!” Hazel grins. “I didn’t know that about you!” She likes to think she knows plenty about Clem, but between the little anecdotes she picks up on now and then and, of course, the Big Ol’ Revelation About Tamyra Williams, Hazel’s beginning to suspect otherwise. But she doesn’t let that put a damper on her mood, instead giggling: “Remember that New Year’s Eve party at our house–” The Beaufort house, she means “– where I convinced you to join in on me and Ivy’s dance party, even though you were being cranky and kept saying you were working?” She, of course, knows nothing about the particular ‘crankiness’ elicited by that holiday for Clem. But Hazel’s not the best at asking the questions that matter.

Like now: “Do you want to ask?” And then she laughs again a little. “Sorry, that was dumb. No, I just tripped on a rock. I’m okay though!” Still, she diligently holds out her arm, tilting her head to watch Clem’s expression and keep up with what she’s saying even when her face is downturned. “A little,” she admits, then shakes her head. “No no no – it’s okay! Don’t want to interrupt the party. I’m okay!” She wipes the arm on her shirt, nose crinkling a little as she tries and fails to contain her wince. “I’m glad you’re not worrying.” She says sincerely, reaching out to squeeze Clem’s hand then dropping it as her eyes widen with scandal. “What?!” Hazel laughs, whipping around to very unsubtly look for Seamus. “Where?! Should we go try to dance with Seamus? Not like that – just – I mean – it’s nice that everyone is having so much fun. That’s what I mean. Even Seamus! Do you think he hates us after the cave-tunnel-thingie?”

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

It dawns on her why Hazel wouldn’t know this. “We’ve never been to a party together. This is our first one. When I’m not working, I mean.” And here they are, sitting off to the side, washing off wounds and joking around. Clementine leans back on her hands, a little hum coming to her lips, one only alcohol would bring to light. “New Year’s Eve party? Yeah, I think I remember a little bit of that, but uh I’m not much of a holiday person. I don’t celebrate any of them,” she says idly, as if it’s common to admit.

The topic is too much of a downer to drag to light and she leans forward again to try a joke. “Besides, we get time and a half if we work on holidays. Figure if I have nowhere else to be, I can put myself to good use. Sorta regret not taking advantage of the dancing now. Was that the last one I went to?” she wonders.

☼ · ☼

Clementine was up to something. Vincent could tell from across the fire as he watches her stride and wobble up to a confrontation that had nothing to do with her. Henry was nowhere near the two men having a dick measuring contest, and the castaways hadn’t been either, so he was going to let them knock each other’s teeth out. It was their potential orthodontic problem, not his. 

Now, though, he sets his drink aside, notes Hen’s location amongst the dancers, and, in his sister’s words, “got his loom on” before lumbering up behind the them. He identified them as Dumb and Dumber. 

“Hey, Tiney,” he greeted with a lopsided grin tossed her way. He turned his glower to the men, sizing them up, dragging his gaze from their feet to their faces with too much intensity to be casual; he knew how to broadcast his assessment, to make himself seem more confident than he was, more invested than he was. I can break you, the look says, if I’m bored enough. It has the intended effect on Dumb, cowing him and making him sweat. Dumby, though, the aggressive tall one, clenches his fists and steps towards Vince.

While staring down Dumby (more realistically staring up at him, but in a fight height was a matter of attitude) Vince said, “So, what’s up, here? I thought we were all just having fun, shooting the shit.” For a minute it’s a loom off, both Vince and Dumby squaring off with equal glowers, his own amused and the other’s pissy. 

Finally Dumby submits to saying, “Your girl was interrupting a gentleman’s talk here, right? Sticking her pretty little nose where it don’t belong. So you-” he punctuates the demand by prodding a sausage-like finger into Vince’s chest once, twice, three times as he speaks- “Prance off and leave us to it.” When Vincent doesn’t comply, Dumby twists his expression into something squashy and angry, pivots, and shoves Clementine back. “Fuck outta here. This man owes me big.”

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ 

Only one person calls her Tiney. “Vince!” She’s not clever enough to make up a nickname on the spot. Amusement creeps across her face the longer the men size each other up. “I wondered the same thing. First good we’ve had here in ages and they want to fight?” Her words end with a confused inflection. Why, after all, would someone want to waste the booze and the music for a pissing contest?

The staredown continues. She doesn’t give it thought. Vince can handle anything the taller man throws at him. Instead, she squints at the shorter one, whose expression is turning a bright tomato red right before her eyes. Then blinks as the other’s words penetrate and she scoffs, bristling. “I’m nobody’s girl,” she says coldly. Then another blink, her alcohol induced brain moving a tad more sluggishly than she prefers, and her head tilts to Vince. “No offense, Vince. But I stand by what I--”

And then the blow strikes her chest. Clementine blinks dumbly, caught off guard enough to stagger back several steps, only instinct keeping her on her feet. His back is to her, focused on Vince. “You got nothing to say, tough guy? All talk and no bite, eh? Go run back to your kennel with the other bitches.” His fault then, she thinks, moving forward to knee him in the back with all her might. It sends him stumbling straight into Vince, but she ignores this as she snaps: “Put your hands on me again and see what happens!”

"Is this a joke?" she asks coldly, bunched together so tightly her limbs could be made of stone. But it's a serious question and this has her more baffled than the idea of a joke. The cave walls feel all the more gloomy now. For all the hours she's been down here, waiting, she's closer and closer to accepting she knows nothing about being wanted. "I don't know. Having someone ask me how I am, or having someone think about me when I'm not around. Someone asking for me." A pause as something bitter creeps up her throat. Her head thunks back against the wall, sending an alarm plume of dust on her head. "Being remembered. Someone caring enough to come back. Someone choosing me."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi couldn’t help but think of not only Angie, but Carlota and Jenny too. She missed them so much, and really, being on the island has only reminded her of how much. She has pushed it aside, has learned to live with it like anyone else would, but knowing that some people got second chances on this island (if it could even be considered a second chance, really), it felt unfair that they had so little time.

But Clementine was right, it eventually got easier for her after the fire, logically knew it would get easier again, even if it didn’t feel like it and it was hard to believe even her own experiences, or Clementine’s own words in that moment. (Not that their losses could ever be comparable, nobody’s losses were.)

In the end she just nodded at the last of Clem’s statement. “Yeah, it can be good at times.” It was strange - so much horrible things happened here, and yet there were moments, there were elements of it that at this point she wouldn’t have traded, or wouldn’t ahve wanted to trade. Some of the connections she’s made, everything she’s learned on the farm, the work she’s done, the variety of people she’s gotten a chance to know. The knowledge that there really was magic in the world, the most supernatural meaning of the word.

“I am not sure I would have survived thirty years in there, it’s insane and impressive at the same time,” she agreed and let out a chuckle at the mention of Magnolia. “Yeah, she’s really here. It must be weird for you, having a whole new Beaufort here who was supposed to be long dead already,” she mused, not really expecting anything from Clem about it.

She bit the insides of her cheek. “There are quieter times here, for sure. It’s never– you know, it’s never fully quiet and never fully calm, something is always happening and not always in the best way, but it isn’t constant danger, no.” It felt like it a lot of times, especially these days with the farm being in shambles. It felt like Madi was always waiting for the next shoe to drop, but it wasn’t the same as in the jungle, it was nowhere close to it.

Madi ducked her head at the mention of Farrah and how Clementine went right back to work. The funeral was the last time she’s seen the other woman, and then the next time she heard from her, it was from Jamil when she disappeared. It was certainly an indescribably rough time for Clementine. “I’m glad at least the work helped.”

She nodded at Clementine’s words, pushing herself up onto her feet and hovering over Clementine as she got up, too, in case she needed help. But of course she didn’t. “I’m glad that you’re here, instead of anywhere else.” Instead of being underground, which is what she thought happened, after Clem disappeared. “And I’m really glad we found each other here, too,” she gave Clementine a smile and the two of them headed off their own way.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi shook her head, carefully reaching out and placing her gloves palm on Clementine’s arm, squeezing it gently. “No, don’t apologize, trust me, I get it.” She felt like it was a salvation in part, that she got to start all over and people didn’t know who she was, but not having some kind of support system in her sister, in Talia, has also been extremely hard. “I had Angie for a little bit here, but she– she got lost in the jungle quite fast.” And technically Emre knew of her before they got here, but that was different, he didn’t know her, she didn’t know him. They both just knew Talia. “So if you wanna talk about it - any of it, I’m happy to listen.”

She just nodded at Clem’s assumption, “Yeah, I miss it being back home.” If she was being honestly, if she got the chance to go back, she wasn’t sure if she would go back to the firehouse again, if she could. She felt safe in her job, the gear, the procedures, the rules made her feel safe, but she wasn’t sure if she could ever forget the uneasiness that was constantly inside of her these days, that feeling of something prickling, something slowly brewing inside of her. Not that it really was an option at all. “But you’ve been here longer, I’m assuming you know that feeling better.”

Madi  ran through what happened in the jungle when the ghosts attacked, but it wasn’t the clearest run down for sure, not for somebody who wasn’t there, didn’t even know Matthew. “Yeah, Matthew and the rest of the Leander’s crew arrived two-hundred years ago, but by that time only Matthew was alive and they came to life as ghosts for whatever reason. And once Matthew and his father said their goodbyes, the ghosts disappeared - we haven’t seen any since.” And then not too much later, Matthew himself has died. Been murdered. Whatever happened, nobody knew for sure yet. “But yeah, honestly, you were in there too for quite some time, I’m amazed at everyone who survived there.” Libby with her thirty years was especially impressive, though, for sure.

“Oh? I didn’t realize any of that!” Madi said in surprise when Clementine revealed that she’s worked for the Beauforts before. “So you knew Hazel even before she got here?” How many people were connected still? How many more connections would be revealed and brought in in the future? Was Meridium intentionally pick people now, who have been connected in some way, shape or form? It felt so weird, so intentional, really. “I’m really happy for them, though. In all of this craziness, at least they have each other. I imagine having family in this place must be nice.” She wasn’t the closest with her parents, they didn’t agree on everything, to say the least, but even them she would have loved to have here.

Madi looked at Clem’s hand on her shoulder instead of up at the woman, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions in check. It wasn’t perfect, but at least she didn’t start crying right away. That was good. “You didn’t know, you wouldn’t have known to even think to look there,” she reassured Clementine with a shake of her head, the guilt she felt over the entire Angie situation bubbling up to the surface once again.

“I’m– I’m keeping myself busy. I spent a lot of time with her in the lagoon after it happened, but since the snow and the winter broke out, I most have been just working on the farm, which I guess at least helps me keep my mind off of– well, not what happened before I am still unsure how it all went down. She disappeared not too long after we got here, so I didn’t– she didn’t–” she shook her head, ducking her head again. “Not really okay, just dealing with it, you know?”

At least talking about Emre was a bit of a distraction from the hard topic, and Madi nodded at Clem’s question. “Yeah. He is a bit hard around the edges at first glance - the first time we met, he was glaring daggers at me because he thought I was somebody else from the distance, but he’s real nice, if you give him a chance.” And when she asked Madi if she would trust Emre, she nodded once again, this time with more conviction. “Yeah, I’d trust him with my life, really. He’s my best friend.”

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ 

All thoughts of rambling flee at this admission. She shifts, holding her tender wrist against her chest, and shifts closer to her friend, leaning her shoulder against her. “We’ll remember the ones we’ve lost,” she murmurs, searching for words of comfort and finding none. “It’s not a comfort now. It wasn’t for me. But... maybe someday it will be.”

She nods at Madi’s comment. “It gets easier to make it through the day. You find other supports. They, uh, aren’t the same, but it’s something.” If anything, the island has brought her more. Libby, who has treated her more kindly than anyone. Hazel, who treats her like a friend. Emre, who seems to straddle the middle-ground of suspicious and friendly. Before the island, what did she have? A job she didn’t choose. A family that didn’t want her. A gravestone older than the person beneath it. Loss after loss, still recovering from one when another follows. She heaves a sigh. “Being on the island is different. But not bad. Not always.”

Not always seem like an exaggeration as Madi details the ghosts. Clementine frowns, thinking of the awfulness of the whole thing. “Thirty years still sounds insane to me. But this side of the island has Magnolia Beaufort. And the island isn’t always like this, right? There has to be a time where it was wild like in there,” she says, waving a hand to encompass the entire beach and then wincing because it’s the wrong hand to move. “I’m glad I came here when I did. I wonder if people will say the same one hundred years from now.” Hopefully by then, they have plumbing.

“I worked security for them. I know most of her family actually and it’s not altogether willingly. But knowing Hazel is worth the rest, she’s a good person. You know her too then?” she wonders, tilting her head. “I can see you both getting along. You both try to see the good in situations before the bad. We could use more of people like that.”

Clementine’s lips twitch with amusement. “You’d think so. I don’t know if it’s all cracked up to be, though. Can you imagine arriving here and being content with the knowledge that you’re alone and then someone just... changes all of that?” And she doesn’t know if she’s talking about herself, about Tamyra, or if this is just one more connection between them that they refuse to admit.

Understanding flashes across her face. “I did the same when I lost Farrah. It’s why I went right back to work the moment I could. They thought I was crazy, but... it’s nice not to think for a while. To focus on something else and not remember what’s missing,” she murmurs, quietly, as if to speak aloud might summon demons neither wants to face.

“That’s high praise coming from you. I guess I can give him a chance. A proper one. I didn’t exactly endear myself to him in our first meeting. Or our second.”

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Once Tamyra laid back down, it was just awkwardness, to the point where it cut the quiet. Maybe she should have checked where she sat down, checked to make sure she found the right person and just avoided Clementine alltogether, but somehow she also just didn’t get up.

Tamyra was blaming the alcohol for all of this.

She let out a snort, “And you think I know the song? Even just from the style of it I can tell it’s way past my time off of the island.” She wasn’t sure if Clementine just wanted to fill the silence or there was some other agenda, but Tamyra just shrugged at the question. “Apparently there was some twist at the end. Didn’t really catch it fully.” The guy the singer was after turned out to be gay, to be exact, but there was no way that was the kind of topic she wanted to discuss with Clementine.

There was a pang of hurt, her stomach clenching at Clementine mentioning stars in California. “You’ve met a lot of them, then, hmm?” she asked, maybe harsher than intended. Did he introduce you to a lot of them, was really what she was trying to ask. 

“You’ll get bored of the skies fast. Once you realize the only time you’ll not see them is if the sky is clouded, you’ll start wishing for the lights of the city fast.” At least she has, which was just as much of a dismissal as an admission from Tamyra. Clementine could take it however she wanted, Tam was just thinking about how this was probably a mistake.

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ 

“I figured people talk to you. Maybe one of them told you and I’d recognize the name. I’m better with names than melodies,” she admits with a quiet laugh. She muffles the sound with a drink, fearing the familiarity of laughter. “Huh, I didn’t think I’d miss things like music videos and movies until now.” Her fingers fiddle with the cup, lips parting and then closing, swallowing a question.

But there’s nothing she really has to lose with Tamyra. “Did you... have a favorite growing up? Movie, or music, I mean.” Clementine doesn’t know if she’s curious for the tone of Tamyra’s answer, or the tiny bit of information she can gleam from something that isn’t an interview. No matter the reason for asking, she doesn’t look at Tamyra. Her eyes stay glued on her cup. With a pang, she realizes it’s close to empty, and tucks it between her knees before she can finish it off, as much to avoid excessive drinking as it was to prolong the conversation a few moments longer while it’s still civil.

Clementine misses the harshness in Tamyra’s words, head tilting instead. “You’re the only star I’ve ever met. I just meant like... in passing, I can only imagine we’ve crossed paths with someone like that.” Clementine sighs. “Meeting people wasn’t really on my agenda. I’m sort of lousy at it, too.” It’s too many words, and too many is always risky. She eyes her cup balefully, blaming it for her problems. But she’s already here. She’s compelled to continue with reckless bravery.

❦

“Ah,” she murmured, remaining stern with her arms crossed over her chest for performance sake. Attuned hearing was a gift and a menace and if the wind blew harder than they could influence it the sound would bend too. “Until you do something not to be, or Hazel decides differently, you’re welcome in my house whether Tamyra is also here or not. She doesn’t have the authority to choose who is in my house.” And if Tam ever did try to dictate who could come and go on the Beaufort homestead then she would be the one sent away regardless of if No agreed with her. 

“There are other rooms,” she muses, looking around at the hall that led to the other three choices. “But that’s not important.” It definitely wasn’t now that Clem had frozen in some state of terror. Magnolia sighed and meandered over to her, reaching out slowly like she was a flighty animal poised to run away and squeezed her upper arms. “Breathe, Clementine. Enough of that, if I wanted to be angry with you for existing I would be throwing you out on your ass already.”

Even if Hazel’s fondness for this foolish woman hadn’t tempered Magnolia’s reaction to her, this display would have. It was a bit sad, a bit pathetic, to assume the worst already. “Come, sit if you want, or bolt again if that suits you.” She half-expected her to run away again like she did the last time. No turned back to the table to begin unpacking her bag, setting bottles and tools in a row. “You heard me with Tamyra. She tells me about things, including stray offspring of her father’s, so there’s no need to look like a kicked puppy.” 

She eyed Clementine over her shoulder. “How long have you known Hazel? I know you two came out of the jungle together. And you were weird when you heard my name, why?”

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

“Thank you. Although I’ll try to barge in less often?” It ends as a question. “I seem to do that a lot. Even when I don’t intend it.” It’s warming to know she’s welcome, and she meets Magnolia’s look with a faint smile. A short-lived one as the topic turns to family and then it falters.

Clementine blows out a breath. “I guess you would have done that already if you were so inclined. I just... didn’t think you would know about that?” It ends as a question, wincing as she does. “It’s just a secret of sorts. I didn’t think anyone else knew about it. I mean, she barely wants to know about it.” She follows No into the other room, intrigued at the notion of someone else joining in on this rapidly growing secret.

“I won’t bolt,” she says, sheepish, thinking back to their last meeting. Surprise had sent her fleeing, and she doesn’t judge Magnolia for thinking she’ll do the same again like some frightened sheep. “I’ve just kept this a secret my whole life and now a couple people know about it. It’s... a little weird feeling.” She feels exposed. Too many people know too many things. But it’s a relief to know Hazel wasn’t the one to say it.

Her face heats. She plops down in one of the chairs with a sigh, tired of feeling sheepish and embarrassed and everything else she’s felt since arriving on this beach. “I just didn’t want it to be Hazel. She’s the only person I’ve told here. Second person I’ve told ever, I suppose.” Though whether Farrah’s father ever believed her, she’s uncertain.

“A while now. I knew her and her family before we were even on the island.” She’s surprised this hasn’t come up, and it amuses her a little to think of her initial panic. “I work for her family-- your family-- as part of their security team. Not a huge team. Just a couple of us. Since I was the only girl on the team, I worked mostly with Hazel, her sister, and her mom. It’s... sorta how I ended up here.” Her fingers go to her shoulder. The gunshot wound is long healed, but when it storms, it aches fiercely.

Her hand drops and she shrugs as an answer. “Hearing your name was crazier than meeting Tamyra. I’ve read your memoir so it was like someone was introducing me to Agatha Christie.”