priorcommitment: (lake)
Ishiah ([personal profile] priorcommitment) wrote2012-02-03 04:02 pm
Entry tags:

in the east, the gray-green lines

When he sits at the edge of the dock and the tides have risen as much as they do now, the water manages to lap against Ishiah's ankles, the slope of his shoulders uncharacteristically hunched as he stares off into the distance. The bright chirping of birds has faded into the gentle buzz of insects in the distance, hopping from one blade of grass to the next, and Ishiah appreciates the scene just as he does everything else on the island, with an objective eye and an aching heart. It isn't enough to stop him, nor to throw off the tasks which he dutifully fulfills by the day. It isn't enough to drive him mad for the want of home.

But on the rare occasions that it crosses his mind to ask himself whether or not he's happy, the answer doesn't always seem to be so positive of one.

A pair of footsteps sound in the distance, and Ishiah, finding himself curious, glances over his shoulder to spot a young man headed in this direction, to the edge of the dock. He doesn't suspect that the young man is here for him, but instead likely just seeking the very same thing Ishiah is. A momentary period of solace.

He nods in greeting, a thin smile on his lips.
princehonorable: (earnest puppy)

[personal profile] princehonorable 2012-02-04 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
He's growing used to this strange pulling at his mind, but it hasn't become any less frustrating. He follows his instincts, letting his mind wander to see where it brings him. Half the time, it brings him just outside the clinic to where Mary Margaret is volunteering. Half the time, it brings him to reaches of an island that still confuses him by the day. David is growing used to being perpetually confused -- it's like there are two people in his mind pulling him in distinctly different directions and there aren't enough details to shape either of them.

He's lost, in more than one sense, and it's slowly driving him nuts. "What's this place called?" he asks the man ahead, on the dock. He's fashioned a small map for himself and has been marking it with dates and names, just to remember where his feet take him.