radicalize | (no subject)

When Lucy woke up to the sound of pouring rain, she'd sat around the treehouse, assuming that it would pass in an hour or two, tops. Only when it didn't show any signs of letting up -- around afternoon, she supposed, judging by the fact that she was starving -- did she start to worry a little, and by then, she couldn't wait any longer. She'd always known that there was some sense in keeping around the clothes she'd arrived in, though she hadn't thought she would ever wear them again; when she headed out of the treehouse, she had on her turtleneck and coat and scarf. It made her feel ridiculous, all those layers on what was usually a tropical island, but in the end, it turned out to be worth it.

It took longer than usual to get to Ryan's, and she was soaking wet when she got there, having had to cross practically the entire island to reach his hut. She'd known all those weeks ago that she ought to have gotten her own place, but no, she'd waited and wound up like this for her trouble. Brushing her wet hair back from her face, she knocked hard on his door with the other, practically praying he'd be there. There weren't many alternative places she could think of to stay, none half as comfortable as staying with Ryan, and she really did not want to be out in the rain any longer just then.

Threaded | Flat

Ryan had held up alright through the night, not entirely surprised by the way the rain had come down after he and Marissa had seen those clouds roll in like that. It was that, the 'he and Marissa,' that implicit we, that had kept him awake long after sleep should have set in. She was there, she'd arrived. She would live. What that meant for him, for her, for any of them, he still hadn't figured out. If she wasn't in Newport, he didn't have to go to her. The way things worked, what Summer had said, though - she still needed saving. Marissa was on the island. He almost thought he'd dreamed it all.

He'd stayed in his hut. It was grey out, inasmuch as it was a color at all. Rain was a novelty, not necessarily the good kind, and this weather made El Nino look like a spring shower. He didn't know who would be out in it, why anyone would be, but his first thought was that it was Marissa. He waited a moment, sat on the bed and collected himself. At night, on the beach, that somehow seemed right, but here, to see her here, would have been more real and less at the same time.

Standing at last, he got up and crossed to the door, pulling it open. "Lucy," he said, a little surprised to see her. "Come in, get out of the rain." She was soaked through and he couldn't really imagine why she'd be out in this weather, but that could matter later. Now he simply ushered her inside and shut the door behind her, moving off at once to find a towel or something to dry her off, get her warm. "What were you doing out there?"

Although Lucy had come to find herself consistantly at ease around Ryan, moreso than anywhere else, she didn't think it possible for her to be more relaxed than she was just then, still in bed, curled up beside him with the rain continuing to pour down outside. There'd been times when she'd wanted to move faster, and a few moments when she'd wanted to keep it slow, but whatever she'd wanted before, just then she didn't think it could've been better timed or more appropriate if they'd planned it to start with. Marissa was there, the weather was shot to hell and the island continued to be as fucked up as ever, but the two of them were alright -- better than alright -- and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

One arm draped over him, the other half-propping her up, she smiled fondly as she looked at him, nothing short of content. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," she half-laughed, her voice low, just loud enough to be audible. "Guess it's a good thing I decided to ask to stay here, huh?"