The boy looked over at Kenzaki and gave a quick smile: "Thank you. You take the onions?"
It didn't take him long to grab the knife, pile up a couple of carrots and slowly, carefully he started to cut his way through the first orange vegetable. The sweet, full scent of the carrot juice filled his nostrils and his stomach growled again, telling him to hurry it up.
His pace quickened as his body soon remembered what his brain did not and the carrot chunks went from being uneaven and jagged around the edges to neat, clean cut, almost identical sized bits. As he worked his way through the pile of carrots, the young boy listened to the woman as she spoke.
Would that mean they were on a deserted island? Probably, and if there was a wreckage, there would have to have been a plane crash. Maybe he and everyone else lost their memories then? But that didn't add up with what the woman said about a journal, did it? So something must have happened after that.
Something that brought him from a crashed plane to a room somewhere, looking like something the cat dragged in and obviously being used as a pin cushion for someone. Fact remained that someone had hurt him; all the small wounds on his body was proof of that, but who, and why? He couldn't even know if it was someone in this room who had done it or someone else.
"Excuse me", he said in English, adressing the woman again. "Miss... Your journal. May I ask how far back you have written in it? Any indications on how long we've been here?"
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timeasmymeasure
[Fuji]
Date: 2007-03-15 06:14 pm (UTC)It didn't take him long to grab the knife, pile up a couple of carrots and slowly, carefully he started to cut his way through the first orange vegetable. The sweet, full scent of the carrot juice filled his nostrils and his stomach growled again, telling him to hurry it up.
His pace quickened as his body soon remembered what his brain did not and the carrot chunks went from being uneaven and jagged around the edges to neat, clean cut, almost identical sized bits. As he worked his way through the pile of carrots, the young boy listened to the woman as she spoke.
Would that mean they were on a deserted island? Probably, and if there was a wreckage, there would have to have been a plane crash. Maybe he and everyone else lost their memories then? But that didn't add up with what the woman said about a journal, did it? So something must have happened after that.
Something that brought him from a crashed plane to a room somewhere, looking like something the cat dragged in and obviously being used as a pin cushion for someone. Fact remained that someone had hurt him; all the small wounds on his body was proof of that, but who, and why? He couldn't even know if it was someone in this room who had done it or someone else.
"Excuse me", he said in English, adressing the woman again. "Miss... Your journal. May I ask how far back you have written in it? Any indications on how long we've been here?"