Dinoplot.

[quite_a_delight]

The ground was even, and then it wasn't. Mid-step on the relative safety of Compound concrete, an out of date copy of the New York Times tucked under one arm and a cup of chai in hand, Marshall Gregson faltered, tumbling splat face down in mud that hadn't been there before. There was scalding chai splattered all down his front, and he moaned --

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[not_the_fish]

If not for the rain, Hal feel he might have been better prepared for--well, for this, with the stumbling over a protruding root and nearly goring himself to death with the knife Niko had given him.

Which is weird enough, really. Having a knife, being the kind of person who has a knife that their guardian-thing demands they practice with, even if it's not even after noon yet and he'd been really intent on just sitting around in his pajamas with a stack of comics. Apparently Niko thought his reading Spiderman meant he had some sort of aspirations to like, be a vigilante, so it was all "put that down" and "try to attack me" and nearly getting his arm pulled off before he was here, falling in the mud.

For a second, he thought Niko had actually like, kicked him out the door or something just shy of horrible, but picking himself up to look around, he doesn't think even Niko could punt him so far away from the hut that he wouldn't be able to see it anymore. Picking himself up is a chore that involves a lot of pulling his limbs one at a

[quite_a_delight]

This felt disturbingly familiar. Except for the mud. The mud was a new addition, which he would've taken some comfort in if it hadn't been, you know, really gross.

But regardless of the creepy deja vu, Marshall felt that coil of apprehension unwind, just a little, because Hal was probably the least threatening person on the planet. Even with the grungy knife.

"Hi," he said again, lifting a hand and dropping it again almost immediately in an abortive wave, then, with a wry kind of cheerfulness, Marshall said, "So, um... This is really weird."

[not_the_fish]

He definitely doesn't need a knife to fend off Marshall, and it's just one more thing making him wish he'd pulled on some pants, because now that he's got it back in his hand, he doesn't really know what to do with it. Sticking it in the elastic of his boxers really doesn't seem appealing, even if they're already soaked and stained with mud

[quite_a_delight]

"Right, yeah, I had kind of noticed that," Marshall agreed, but this whole fucking place was abnormal. He'd barely been here a month, and he'd already just appeared in the middle of nowhere, twice. So, apparently this wasn't the sort of thing he was supposed to expect from this place every few weeks? Great. Wow, what a relief.

Frowning, suddenly, when something even stranger dawned on him, he asked, "Do you, uh... always carry a knife around when you're in your underwear?" Right, way to get the important things out of the way first, Moosh.

[headofaccounts]

The rain had been bad enough. Suddenly finding himself in the middle of the jungle was another category of bad entirely. Despite arriving on the Island with a rifle, Pete hadn't picked it up since moving in to his own hut, but given the circumstances he was starting to regret it. It certainly couldn't have hurt in a place like this

[quite_a_delight]

They hadn't been walking far, hadn't been out there for more than twenty minutes, but hearing the sound of another voice, someone human and stuck in the same undeniably fucked up situation they were, was an overwhelming relief.

Turning toward the voice, Marshall squinted through the leaves at the shape coming toward them and answered, "Yeah, hi. Really... lovely morning, isn't it?"

[not_the_fish]

Somehow it's comforting to find someone else stuck out here--makes it easier to believe that they haven't been dumped on a new island or selected to roam the jungle alone for the sake of the universe making him feel as useless and embarrassed as possible. That they've finally found an adult should be even better, but in Hal's experience, and judging at least from the guy's appearance, adults aren't always better at handling shit than anyone else is.

He's really not sure anyone but Cal and Niko, or maybe like, G.I. Joe, could handle this, though. "How long have you, have you like, when did you--did you just get here?"

[backward]

Cool and accustomed though she thought she was to this kind of occurrence, suddenly finding herself outside, alone and in the rain (she was at least dry inside her hut), shakes Effy more than she wants to admit, even to herself. She's used to being in control, having spent so much time studying it, acquiring it, and then abusing it. It only further proves that the island - or whatever is behind it all - knows Effy better than anyone else, and as a result is quickly learning how to best shake her up. She is less than appreciative of the effort

[not_the_fish]

Hal hasn't slept this poorly since the night of the Haslett tournament, staring at the ceiling trying, not to memorize the opening of his arguments, but to prove to himself that he could actually say the words over and over if he wanted to

[quite_a_delight]

There was a warm weight against his leg, and under any other circumstances, that might've been nice. But these weren't other circumstances. This was the morning after what had quite possibly been the worst night of his life. Marshall Gregson had never been much of a tree climber, his grace and balance left much to be desired, and he'd spent most of the night terrified that, in his sleep, he'd tumble to the ground and break his neck.

Sitting all night in a tree with his spine stiff against a tree trunk, practically clinging for dear life, wasn't all that comfortable, apparently.

He'd dozed off and on, but sleep had been pretty much out of the question. Blinking groggily, he climbed unsteadily down onto Hal's branch, managing a weak smile and a hoarse, "Hi."

[headofaccounts]

The only answer that Pete volunteered (from a few branches along) was a grunt, which was about all that he really could muster. It didn't seem too shabby given the state the rest of his companions were in. Like Marshall, he'd only been able to manage to sleep in moments, waking up again every now and then in terror of some new creature poking its ugly head out of the darkness.

Despite still being in one piece, it seemed that consciousness under sleep-deprived circumstances wasn't something that agreed with Pete terribly well, as, in his attempt to get out of the tree in which he had spent one of the worst nights of his life, he simply fell like a bird struck by a stone.

Given his lack of any real response before getting to his feet, it seemed that the fall hadn't done him that much damage.

[backward]

Contrary to popular belief, Effy Stonem does not have a death wish. Not one strong enough to compel her to wander off alone in the dark through dinosaur-infested lands, anyway. After an entire day on her feet - walking, running, and occasionally wondering if one can go mad from being forced to spend night and day with these three - she falls asleep quickly; it's remaining so that becomes the problem. The slightest of sounds cause her to wake, every muscle that hasn't gone numb stiffening at the smallest things - a sharp breath from below or a gust of wind that rustles the leaves in the tree just so. For the most part, she's awake when the others begin to stir, calling out for reassurance that they haven't been abandoned in the night, and simultaneously disappointed that it wasn't all a terrible dream. Effy doesn't have to question it; sleep is required to dream, and there's an evident shortage going around