crossing_lostrp | Day 8 - Team Transmitter (tag Tara, Jon, McKay)

The small group gathered early, collecting food to sustain them for lunch, but prepared to scavenge for their own meals after that. Rose was starting off wearing her backpack, and had a Bamboo walking stick. Her hair was pulled up into a pony tail on top her head, keeping it out of the way. The Backpack held two changes of clothing two blankets wand bottled water. The Doctor carried nothing except what was in the pockets f his ever-present leather jacket. Sayid had one of John Locke’s knives tucked into his belt, and one of the sturdy spears from the found crate ‘just in case’.

Sayid had not understood why he had been asked to join them. He knew that between The Doctor and Doctor McKay his own technical knowledge was limited. But the Doctor insisted he’d be invaluable if they were dealing with older equipment and, The Doctor confided, he was obviously one of the ex-military types. He told the Iranian he wanted someone who could handle themselves, and was an adult, with them. Someone he trusted to help protect the group. Although when he said the group he’d turned to look at Rose. Sayid was not certain if The Doctor was mad or not, the things he had heard whispered round the campfire, but he was capable. And the obvious trust was an honor of its own.

McKay, Jon and Tara rounded out the group heading for the Transmitter. Tara had the map. The Doctor had announced he didn’t need it. Rose complained that such a statement was something only those male statements that tended to get people lost, so Tara had been handed the map to keep them on track, should the Doctor’s ‘excellent sense of direction’ fail them.

They had set off keeping to the shade of the treeline. Besides the shade, the ground was harder there, and easier to walk over. They were not traveling fast, in deference to McKay’s still hurting ribs.

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Mara backed up when people started offering her help; Faith took her bags and she didn't know what to say. She finally sighed. To Tara, she said simply, "If not wanting to risk being ravaged until I want to die again counts as a simple desire, then yes, you people are running roughshod over what I want. It doesn't matter. I'm already moving, right?" Not bitter, not accusatory. Just...tired.

She trailed along with them as they walked, like a grey-clad ghost, feet chafing in the walking boots she'd dug up. Orrie wiggled in her arms and the bag bumped against her back. She was white-faced and trembling; her senses didn't show anything but the sun was going down fast. She kept her face down, and didn't look at anyone.

When they came to the police-call-box-that-wasn't, she stared at it and backed up a pace warily.

Faith didn’t talk for the entire walk. She wasn’t comfortable with Jon and Ash bringing up the rear, especially when she had no doubt that if anything came out of the jungle seeking to attack that she would be faster, stronger and more able to take it on than both of them combined. She didn’t argue, however, or complain. Faith merely slipped back into Slayer mode, watchful and wary of everything around them, including their new traveling companions. She moved in careful, purposeful strides, subconsciously aware of every movement of everyone around them. She became warrior and protector, her playful and teasing seductiveness washed away by the need to be ready and alert.

She caught Tara’s gaze once and gave the girl a half-smile. The look that accompanied it was no-nonense-we’ll-talk-when-it’s-safe and it must have been a look Tara had seen often enough to recognize because she nodded and looked away from the Slayer, keeping her attention focused on moving.

Easily, she tuned out the prattle between The Doctor and Rose while still managing to listen to it. Words like “life support” and “power” and “energy” made Faith wonder if she hadn’t taken a step a little bit to the left of her normal weirdness and added aliens and spaceships into the mix. (No big surprise there if that’s so; aliens might actually be a nice change from vampires and the gals in the lockup.)

When they stopped in front of one of those police box things that she’d seen in some old television drama that she’d paused briefly on when channel surfing (courtesy of one Richard Wilkins, former human and mayor of Sunnydale), she stopped and quirked an eyebrow. “Well now, if that ain’t the shit.”

Faith considered what Rose had said about showers and bedrooms and asked curiously, “Let me guess, it’s bigger on the outside than it is on the inside? Some sort of dimensional pocket or doorway or something?”

The idea did not surprise her. But hell, she’d shared one off weird ass dreams with B, and got the lowdown on some pretty weird shit from Angel. Dimensional doorway in the middle of a tropical island? Not so suprising. (Stranger than Sunnydale. Huh. Who’dathunk.)

Day 8 - Team Transmitter (tag Tara, Jon, McKay)

[Mara] Move Out? (tag everyone)

[Faith] Move Out? (tag everyone)