Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Everyone on the island is welcome to join this one- but sure to post on the main thread beforehand so we know that you're on your way and can make room for you to post. >v< Feel free to make an exit at any time as well.

Current posting order:
Alva, Barnabas, ...))

It takes a very rare occasion to cause Alva to deviate at all from any routines that she has established, even on such a remote, harsh island. This day is one of those very rare occasions.

On this morning she had taken the extra effort to walk quite a bit farther away from the boarding house than she usually did, finally ending up at the beach in hopes that it would provide her with at least a few moments of solitude. This is a day set aside to remember things- and interference from that man or anyone else could very well impede her ability to do so. Her manner of dress is extremely different from what she typically wears: it is a traditional Norse dress, with a baggy-sleeved white blouse, sky-blue bodice clasped with a silver brooch adorned with an engraved sun wheel. The blue colors darken in the form of an apron covering the front of an even darker shirt, creating a transition not unlike sky to ocean. The skirt just barely covers shockingly red stockings tucked into her usual uncomfortable shoes. Her original shoes for this outfit have been gone for years, unfortunately.

Those shoes sink stubbornly into the sand, but right now she doesn't care and looks out at the sea, hands clasped into her front. The biggest shock about her appearance is that the usual tight bun of her hair is gone to be replaced with a braid that just reaches her shoulderblades... would someone even be able to recognize her, should they find themselves wandering to the beach as well?

On a similar token to Blaine, Alva finds herself wishing that it would snow, even though she knows that it is completely impossible in this heat. At least it is possible that the Scotsman may get his wish at one point, though it would probably be full-fledged rain instead of the misting he craves. Right now, however, it remains extremely hot, sticky, and sunny. Both of the people present are probably sweating buckets by now.

The Norsewoman had reached that trancelike state that is often reached through prolonged periods of deep thought, not totally unlike sleep. So when Blaine calls out to her she jerks in shock and turns quickly to face him. Anyone who actually knows her at this point would be quite befuddled at the lack of scorn in her facial expression. There is a small hint of disdain, but not nearly to the levels that are the norm.

Not sensing threat from the ragged-faced, man, she decides that it would be best to show some courtesy and respond. "Oh, I don't think we have formally met before?" There's another shock- she's being polite to a man who probably would have angered her in this situation on any other day.

After taking a few seconds to decipher through this man's accent, the woman responds, "Yes, it can get rather hot here, though there is some rain once in a while, I believe. It doesn't do enough to cool the place as much as I would like, though. What I wouldn't give for a bit of snow around here, though that will never happen..." She smiles a bit wistfully, having further reminded herself how far away she is from where she came from. "I have taken to modifying my clothing to suit the environment, I don't see why anyone else hasn't been inclined to do the same." At this point in time she might even be willing to help someone make their clothing more suitable, should they ask for her assistance.

Alva accepts the hand, sweaty as both hers and the man's are- he is correct that a good first impression works wonders with this woman, regardless of what day it is. "Alva Borghild. It is a pleasure to meet you, as well."

Like the two others, Barnabas Woolfe found himself wandering down to the beach- however, for different reasons. Where one wished to find solitude and another merely to keep awake, Barnabas wanted to study the beach. Well... more like look around with a good pipe and see all the things he hadn't had a chance to see either back home, or since he'd come to the island. It would be a good way to relax before meeting with his charge for the day, and whatever else he decided to do.

Upon reaching the beach- however he'd managed to chose the portion of beach that the other two island inhabitants had chosen- he paused. Should he interrupt what was obviously a conversation? He thought he recognized Miss Alva there, but she was dressed quite oddly..

Oh! If he did not 'interrupt', per se, but merely made his presence known, that would be alright, would it not? Of course it would be.

With that decided, the portly gentleman strode forward again, striking a match to light his pipe as he went, stopping a proper distance from Blaine and Alva, wearing his customary grin. "Good morning!"

Blaine grinned "Ma 'da widnae be seen deed wi' a sewin' needle in his haun, but I gess that wiz jist the wiy we wur raised. Ah widnae mind knowin' stuff like that meself. It'd make things easier." he wasn't lying, he didn't see the point in trivial gender roles.

He was about to say more when he spotted the other man, his words dying on his lips only to be replaced with a hearty "Awrite mate?"

But Blaine was not known for his memory skills when sleep deprived, and with a blink he recalled that last night he wasn't sure how efficiently penned up his creature had been. He couldn't afford to mess up this soon and quickly spoke up.

"Damn! Ah jist remembered somethin fae last night. Gotta run. A pleasure meetin' ya Alva, and hope tae get a chance to chat tae yae soon stranger."

And with that he dashed up the beach, demonstrating a surprising turn of speed for a man of his stature. The possibility of losing your job often did that to you.

"I imagine I'll meet you again, Blaine," Alva calls with a wave as the odd man leaves.

And odd as Blaine may be, nothing could ever top the oddness of the portly Englishman who had seemingly taken his place for now. His 'familiar grin' is contagious as ever, and as such Alva finds herself breaking into a smile before she can stop herself. "Hmm, well, I was hoping to spend some time alone today, but I suppose it's too late to assert that," the woman explains. "It... is a bit silly, all things considered, here on this little island... but today is my father's birthdate, and I wish to respect that." At this point she has her hands clasped at her front and her gaze is cast at the sand at her feet, much like a shy schoolgirl- though schoolgirls don't exist in this time. "It's also why I am wearing this old thing. A piece of home, if you would want to call it that."

"Yes, it is, but sometimes it can be hard to bring along," Alva replies with a completely uncharacteristic wistfulness. She's smiling at least; it's quite difficult not to with someone like Barnabas in your company.

His willingness to admit when he doesn't know something is a welcome trait, as well. "My home is in Norway- quite far north from here, as you might gather," the woman explains. "I don't find myself going back there very soon." She wipes a conglomeration of sweat off of her brow... grah, it's hot. Her dress (which was made for wintery weather in the first place!) is going to end up drenched with sweat if she doesn't get to somewhere that isn't at least a bit cooler. "I'd like to keep talking, but I feel like I might catch fire if I don't move to someplace cooler. It would be nice to have a bit of company along the way, though."

With that said, she starts back up the beach towards the path that cuts through the jungle, hoping that she'll be able to find a bit of shade.