Welcome to Gaia! ::

It is a dreadfully muggy, overcast morning on the island- one of those where you hope and pray that the steely clouds above will grant precious rain, although you know that the day will pass and the next will be sunny and dry without so much as a drop being given. Alva had woken up in a terrible sticky sweat as did probably everyone else, but it was vastly better than her stomach waking her up in yet another bout of terrible ill. It seemed that whatever sickness she had been dealing with had passed.

Shame, since she had gotten so used to her new routine. Now she has a still-slightly-early morning with nothing to do. Practicing her woefully neglected cello or doing some idle needlework had little appeal, however, so now she is outside in all of the glory of the clouds sitting on an unseen surface and making the humidity all the more uncomfortable, starting again on her morning walks that she realizes that she had missed quite a bit.

She hadn't had a decent conversation with Chris in ages. Perhaps she'll be able to run into the fellow woman again if she's lucky.

As odd coincidences may have it, Alva passed that window just as the last glimpse of flurrying red hair could be seen. However, she had not thought to look up, and had only really seen a tiny bit of movement out of the corner of her eye. She believed that she had heard some footsteps going down the stairs and approaching the door, but that would require unnaturally good hearing and thus it was most likely her imagination and slight headache from the humidity and air pressure that had caused it.

She reaches the doorway just as Bridgit clears it, in any case, causing the younger woman to bump into her bruised shoulder. Alva in turn grips her arm and hisses a curse, then calling to her: "Damn it all, be more careful! You might barrel someone over and twist an ankle like that!"

Not exactly the best of first impressions.

The older woman's expression upon seeing the other person flail around in apology was that bemusedly irate look much akin to a nobleman running into a particulary vehement beggar. It contracts into scrutinizing confusion when "George" gives Alva "his" name, however, so she quickly looks less intimidating- or perhaps more so, depending on how prone to deceit she appears to Bridgit.

"George, you say? It's a pleasure to see you, for all events and purposes. My name is Alva," she responds, unceremoniously shaking the offered hand with a sturdy, authoritative grip. "I was starting to fear I had imagined those footsteps late last night, though I should have drawn better conclusions when the stench of sea salt was dragged along with them." Flicking imaginary dust off of her shoulder, she continues, "I take it you must have just arrived? Conversing with the same few people time and time again has been rather tiresome. It is a blessing to finally see someone new around here, even if he is so clumsy as to blindly walk into anyone nearby."

"I shall have to inquire about who else might have arrived on the ship, as well as the animal cargo, then," Alva replies with geniune curiosity. She can admit that Alphonse brings in the most interesting beasts, and takes note to go to the arrival stable later on to see what new ones might be there.

"You have already apologized, no need to try and assert your honesty more. Acknowledging that you made a mistake is enough, so long as you are willing to avoid making the same mistake again." Her tone is irate, but also quite teacherly. In the distant future, ironically enough, a stereotypical female schoolteacher will have the same appearance and disposition. She doesn't add that she didn't expect herself to be up so early, either. Instead, she says, "There are animals to care for and progressing humans to teach. Time should not be wasted by sleeping longer than you need to."

Taking attention off of herself would prove to be quite an effort, since the woman's scrutinizing gaze hasn't left Bridgit yet. "I have been here since April. This is not a city like London, so learning your way around should not be too difficult so long as you don't stray into the untamed areas outside the compound." Taking a couple of steps closer to her and narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she says, "You seem quite younger than most of the men that Alphonse wants on the island, and I don't see him as willing to take on any apprentices. Are you a stowaway, or someone's son?"

Alva's head slowly nods thoughtfully as Bridgit lists off the other men she saw on the ship. Truthbetold, she is more interested in passengers that aren't men yet, but at least now she has an idea of who to look for. She smiles in muted amusement, responding, "A German? I was not aware that the doctor's influence had gone so far as Germany. He's truly notorious, isn't he?" The way she says it, it's almost as if she finds such a trait to be admirable.

"A little too warm?" the Norsewoman grins. "Summer is just about over where you're from, correct? I'll have you know that the seasons here are flipped around, or at least that's what Alphonse has said. Summer is drawing closer on this island... though that doesn't make much difference. It's always quite hot."

She's irritated and amused the men here as a first impression, and this is the first time she has made a man nervous right off. She almost finds herself wanting to reassure this newcomer that she won't bite his head off.

"Twenty-seven? You seem a man not much older than twenty. I thought men your age are all about finding a wife." There are other sordid quips she has in mind to say, but for now she holds them in. No need to make this man into an enemy... "I see. My apologies; I supposed I have gotten used to being around men closer to my own age. I am thirty-seven," she elaborates, and for once she looks it. The due fatigue and weathering of being willfully stranded on an island surrounded by less-than-sane people and animals striving to become people has been etched just slightly into her face.

"Famous, indeed," Alva quips back, "if one can gain fame from all of England thinking that you are completely mad." She hasn't had the chance to gossip about Moreau herself, and as much as she dislikes rumors, she is having quite a delightful time toying with this naive new arrival. "Sometimes I wonder if England is right, on those days where it's impossible to think because of the terrible, beastly shrieks and cries he causes. His work is very extensive; I'm sure you cannot wait to see it for yourself."

Bridgit's tone upon her response is quite dishonest to the older woman. "Ah, now, there is no need to hide any enthusiasm you might have. The doctor will enjoy such a willing young man on the island, I think." A note is made to tell Alphonse about how excited this newcomer must be, with possible exaggeration. Maybe it will get him to stop lecturing her for a spell.

That tone of Bridgit's tells Alva all she needs to know. "There's no point in being so shy, George. I can tell that you have women on your mind quite a bit... perhaps more than you think other people realize." Is she hinting at something, here?

There's that low, thrumming chuckle. "It's very gruesome work, but it does what it's supposed to." She doesn't want to disturb this person any more, so thankfully she leaves out any disgusting details and the argument she had with the dog.

"You have been behaving very strangely, George," Alva muses, inching even closer. "Are you one of those 'Bohemian' types, perhaps?" She smiles in what might be called a disturbingly knowing fashion. "You don't need to go such lengths to hide it. Alphonse was sure that I was a man when I arrived, and I was dressed much more womanly than I am now! He'd probably still think that if I didn't tell him." A more friendly chuckle. Heavy embelishment? Yes. But she wants to see if "George" will spill whatever "he" is hiding.

Bridgit might be a couple of inches taller than Alva, but height is hardly intimidating. Growing up around Norsemen tall as and built like trees, and constantly having verbal tussels with a man almost a foot taller than her, a couple of inches is too trifling to even sneeze at. Bridgit's anger is very amusing. It is also a little unexpected that she flared up so much. Men don't usually sound so much like... badly-practiced sopranos.

It's proving difficult to hide her laughter, so the Norsewoman decides to not try anymore and laugh while saying, "Oh, it's quite obvious that you're hiding something, my good sir. You are nothing like the unremarkable, studious man you're trying so hard to be." It's a bit of a wild guess, but if the emphasis she's using catches on well enough and quickly enough, then it would be obvious. She possibly would have gone so far as to touch Bridgit on her face or shoulder if she weren't turned away- for now, her right hand is loosely poised near her shoulder.