Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Lovely choice of instruments," Alphonse nods, trying to keep pace with Alva without getting too far ahead of her so as to keep the woman under the umbrella's cover. "I agree about the music. I intend to attempt teaching these brutes I'm making a thing or two about music, but I don't know how far they'll be able to go and how much learning they are willing to do."

Clearly missing the woman's subtle jab at him, Alphonse continues to nod in agreement. "Quite the close-minded bastards. They told me that my work was an affront to God. I tell them God has no place in my work, and sometimes you have to tamper with nature in order to progress - evolution and adaptation, like Darwin's teachings -- I'm just helping the process along faster." The doctor nods sagely, chuckling to himself. "Did you know that some people still believe that all of humankind descended from two beings that sprung up from nowhere? How much of a folly that is, if that were the case we would all have died out from inbreeding countless generations ago. Either that, or we all would have been born deformed and defective, missing limbs or parts of our brains."

He stops in his tracks as Alva gets her shoes stuck in the sand, idly twirling his umbrella and staring at the ground where her feet were. "Don't tell me you intend to get around the island in those awful shoes," he sneers, completely forgetting about the mostly pleasant conversation he was having earlier, "the paths here are not paved, nor is there cobblestone. I don't want to carry you around the island should you break your limbs with such a stupid choice in footwear after tripping on an upraised root in the jungle." He shifts the handle of the bag over to the hand holding the umbrella, offering his now-free hand to help Alva back up on her feet.

"I wouldn't know, I was never much of a singer or a fan of singing," Alphonse admits with a light shrug, "I prefer instrumental music. It is much more soothing to the nerves and is easier to dance to."

"I suppose it is to keep the masses in line, although I still think God should have no place in the scientific field," the doctor says in response to Alva, smirking. If his hands weren't full, he'd be crossing his arms.

"It might be better to go around barefoot if you don't want me to carry you," Alphonse interjects, pointing at her with his free hand since she doesn't take his offer to help her back up. "Having anyone rendered immobile on this island would likely result in death or something equally unpleasant," Moreau starts in a dour tone, wagging his finger at Alva, "Dare you be so stupid, woman? Does wearing your ill-designed shoes mean more to you than your life?"

"Oh, and the sand further up the dunes -- here -- is a lot looser and not as tightly-packed as the sand closer to the water. I'd recommend taking off your stupid shoes before even attempting walking in it, lest you slip and fall over," Moreau moves his pointing hand from Alva towards the dunes, where the faint outline of the stable could be seen behind vegetation. "Even I have problems walking these dunes sometimes, and my shoes are actually of a well design."

With every venom-injected word Alva spits, Moreau flinches. That woman really is scary - especially when she speaks! "You know, I was not being serio--"

Alphonse quickly cuts himself off when he realizes that Alva has taken his snarling advice to heart and has bent over to pull off her ill-designed shoes. He curls his upper lip, raising both brows with disgusted interest. "Oh, God!" Moreau shrieks, taking a step back, "Fine! Fine! I'll order you a suitable pair of shoes for use on this island, if you never do something so scandalous in front of me again!" He forces himself to pull his eyes away from her bare ankles, covering his face with his free hand and turning away.

Once the initial shock is over, Moreau hesitantly peeks at Alva between his fingers. "It'll... take a few months before you get your new shoes, due to the boats going to and from here being rather sporadic," he says in a small, defeated voice, "but it's better than this... and more practical than those horrid shoes of yours. I'll just need your measurements."

"I don't care," Alphonse says stubbornly, "I'm getting you new shoes." He starts waving his hand at her, uncovering his eyes but still looking away.

"Honestly, walking around barefoot isn't very safe either - especially not in the jungle! All the horrid insects and such things. And here, there are sharp burrs hidden in the sand. I hate those awful things," the man complains, holding up one leg and showing off the lower part of his pants, where prickly, spiny little seeds have clung to the fabric just from that short time they were walking up the dunes. "Imagine stepping on those--"

He wobbles backward having been standing on one foot, almost losing his balance. At the last second, he catches himself before he falls by throwing out his arm and unceremoniously grabbing onto Alva's shoulder. "Awk!"

Alphonse doesn't answer her, instead too busy trying to regain his footing. "My apologies," the doctor mutters, rubbing his face. "Let us just forget this and bring Caligula to the stable. Then I can show you to the boarding house and you can become settled."

The only thing to make Moreau look worse and more awkward to this woman right now would be if his glasses were to fall off.

As the two approach the stable just up the beach, Alphonse pulls out a ring of keys from his pocket. Clumsily sorting through them, he goes ahead of Alva and goes to unlock the stable door. The rain is now all but gone, so he has no need to continue walking alongside her.

Not that he really wants to walk alongside the vile woman, anyways.

"In here," he looks over his shoulder at Alva and motions for her to follow him inside, closing up the umbrella and shaking it off. "And get your shoes on, confound it all! I do not want you getting mud all over your feet and tracking it around the compound."

"Put your horse up in any of these stables for now, I will tend to him later."

Does this woman spend a decade on everything she does? Alphonse groans impatiently, tapping his foot on the concrete while waiting for Alva to inspect every single God-forsaken stable and grain of sand and whatever else she was wasting his time with. He dives a hand into his vest pocket, pulling out a silver pocketwatch and flipping it open with a thumb before loudly snapping it shut and shoving it into his pocket again.

"I can either lead you to the boarding house so you may choose your room and drop off your things, or invite you to my abode for some dinner. Surely it's been a while since you have eaten anything palatable, I cannot imagine there being any food of much worth on the ship," Alphonse offers, then stops to consider something. If he stops by the boarding house first, it may take Alva another five hours until she finally picks a room. He holds up his hand and shakes his head at the thought. "Actually, it is best that I treat you to dinner first. You must be starving."

"It might improve our moods, as food tends to do," Alphonse says with a light shrug. "How does garlic baked rabbit sound? I dare say I'm a fine cook, and rabbit makes for incredibly tender, almost sweet, meat. It goes down very nicely."

"Right, then," Moreau nods, walking out of the stable and closing the door behind Alva. "It's going to be a bit of a walk, the compound is just up by the mountain. Shall we?"

~ Fin ~