#thread.zaid

Baskar thought they were doing well given the circumstances: haunted, hearing EVERYTHING, a little jumpy, but still managed to make people like them. Or well, they hoped people liked them. It would be sad if people didn’t. Though maybe they were more of a try-hard then. That was alright, they could be a try-hard now and be a friend later. They didn’t mind. They had more time now, they didn’t need to make people like them right away, they didn’t need to establish connections quickly. They were out of harm’s way, they could stay here, rest here, keep a life here. 

After the meeting - the one which Baskar did not attend because there had been far too many people - they felt like getting some goodwill with the island's chef. So they'd told Zaid about the bananas they'd found and asked him to come along. Maybe a chef would know what to do with the weird looking bananas.

“I know there are more around here,” they explained to him. “I’ve been in the jungle a few times before, they’re pretty high up, but when I lived in Indonesia me and friends would always go out and look for them. There weren’t a lot of wild banana trees, so we mostly had to beg older people if we could cut them down from their garden and share the harvest, but we always managed to get a few.” 

Adarsh couldn’t say why, but leaving the door to his bungalow open whenever he was there and not sleeping or showering was so natural he hadn’t even questioned it. He simply let it be as he tried out the stove for a second time within the small space - the idea of making a fire on the beach again and dragging all the ingredients down with him was less enticing this time. He was also worried that if he did that too often, people would think he was doing it on purpose. And there was a small thought - though once again it seemed Bollywood movie scene instead of memory - of homeless people making low-ingredient street food next to actual food vendors. 

He gritted his teeth together as he tried to remember the order of the recipe he was attempting to make. He didn’t know the name, but it had started out similar to the masala paste he’d made before. Garlic, union, ginger, a shitton of herbs and spices, and a good three tablespoons of masala garam, and there he was stranded again. 

He figured he should then use it to marinate the meat - which he’d raided from the kitchen not even having asked what kind it was. But instead he was staring at the pan, arms crossed, motionless. 

Power was everything. And Adarsh's healing ability certainly proved to be everything he'd hoped from discovering he had a super power himself. Something to focus on. Beyond his daily search for answers on who he was. It was... almost intoxicating. This new thing. But he was beginning to get restless within the medi-centre, and people weren't in dire need of someone with awesome healing abilities.

Maybe he could find someone who would willingly cut themself so Adarsh could heal them. He doubted it, but he was happy to be out of the building.

Roaming first the camp, then the forest, he wasn't new to finding people doing all kinds of sports or activities to calm their nerves.

Zaid meditating was a new one. He was still far enough that he had to shout, and that wouldn't be kind to anyone who was meditating, but he couldn't help it, he was too restless, too fired up, too eager to distract himself from the big questions that were still out there: who was he? "I didn't think you were the sort to meditate!"