rise and shine

just call me conor.

[conorxoblivion]

{ B A S I C S }

LEGAL NAME: Dorothea Craven Unknown

NICKNAMES: Thea None

ALIAS: Conor

GENDER / PRONOUNS: Female / She/Her

AGE: 28 years old

DOB: January 25th, 1893 Unknown

PLACE OF BIRTH: New Orleans, Louisiana, USA Unknown

YEARS ON MERIDIUM: 99 years

ATTUNEMENT: Air

NATIONALITY: American Unknown

ETHNICITY: African-American, African-Haitian, & white ( English, Irish, French, & German ) Unknown

OCCUPATION: Pilot Unknown

LANGUAGES: English (fluent), French (fluent), Creole (conversational), ASL (elementary proficiency/conversational)

RELIGION: Agnostic 

ORIENTATION: Demisexual Biromantic

DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS: OCCASIONALLY | NO | NO

{ P H Y S I C A L  A T T R I B U T E S }

HAIR COLOR: Black

EYE COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5′-6″

WEIGHT: 134 lbs

TATTOOS: --

SCARS: --

{ P E R S O N A L I T Y }

TRAITS

+ spunky, daring, witty, charming, bold, dedicated

- challenging, outspoken, impulsive, reactive, skeptical

MBTI: ESFP

ALIGNMENT: True Neutral

LIKES: TBD

DISLIKES: TBD

GOALS/DREAMS: TBD

FEARS: TBD

{ R E L A T I O N S H I P S }

PARENTS

Unknown (mother) - Deceased

Unknown (father) - Deceased

SIBLINGS

Unknown

ROMANTIC

Unknown

{ B I O G R A P H Y }

trigger/content warnings: none

OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

You were born to a small family, or at least you think you were. You might have been married judging by the tan line from a ring on your finger, but the ring is long gone along with any other kinds of belongings or items to indicate who you are. You can’t be too sure these days and it’s not because of the years that have passed on this island. The only thing you remember are the waves, the salty air, and the sand. When you woke up, everything was fuzzy and your head ached. How you got there, why you were there, and when you got there. You don’t even know when you’re from. Most importantly, you don’t even know yourself or who you’ve left behind.

When you first woke up, you were floating on a piece of wood and you just couldn’t seem to drown. When you woke up a second time, you were somewhere on an island, far away from anyone. You lived on the island for some time without having contact with anyone, hiding whenever you heard a strange noise, thinking you were alone on this island. You were scared because you don’t know who or where you are. Somehow though, you have enough sense and skill to take care of yourself. Eventually, someone finds you as you talk to yourself and mark the days you’ve spent on the island on a tree. You don’t know how they heard you, but they did. Once they told you everything was okay, all the dust settled and the breeze stopped blowing.

You choose a new name for yourself because you don’t remember your real one. You are shy at first, but soon take on a new personality. You aren’t too sure about how “new” your personality is, but no one on the island knows you or has even heard of you. The tan line on your ring finger slowly fades away and you begin to forget about who may be missing you. And as the years go by, you can’t even be sure what year you are from. You call yourself the woman out of time as you lose track and learn new things from new castaways. You live among the survivors unattached to people and you act indifferent and carefree, claiming you’ve moved on and live in the now. Still, you can only hope though that eventually, the next survivor will have some information as to who you are.

PRE-MERIDIUM

Dorothea “Thea” Craven, was born in 1893 and grew up in the early 1900s during the height of aviation. She became interested in flying at a young age and was very determined and adventurous. She eventually learned to fly and made it her life and a career. 

Her family traveled quite a bit when she was younger and learning to speak, so she developed an interest in adventure and languages. Because of this, her accent is difficult to pinpoint. Some may call it a Transatlantic or Mid-Atlantic accent. Her free spirit never changed and she ultimately became a pilot. It is unknown what she was a pilot for whether it was for military, expeditionary, or show purposes.

When Dorothea wanted to become a pilot, she was not allowed to obtain a license at that time in the United States. She ultimately ended up moving to France for a time to take lessons and earn her license.

MERIDIUM

She crash landed in the water around Meridium while she was on a solo flying expedition. It is unknown how and why the plane crashed and whether it was a strange malfunction, pilot error, or sabotage. She has been unable to recover the wreckage of the plane and is unable to determine what really happened to her. 

When Thea landed in the water, she hit her head and when she woke up, she had no memory of who she was or how she got there. She didn’t even know she was flying the plane that crashed. She woke up on a piece of wreckage from the plane and soon floated until she hit land. It is suspected her air attunement manifested shortly after landing in the water as she never drowned.

She landed on a side of the island where no one saw her and she thought she was alone. She survived on the island for a few days until she was found by the rest of the survivors on Meridium. Before she was found, she hid from any slight noise that was made, even if it was far away, which she didn’t realize was far away.

Since she didn’t know her name, she chose a new one for herself. She settled on the name Conor, but she wasn’t entirely sure why she chose it. It just spoke to her. 

Conor doesn’t remember anything about where she was from, who her family was, or even what year she’s from. She remembers skills and some historical facts, but gets things confused, especially since she’s learned so much about current events from newer survivors. 

More will be updated as Conor learns more about herself / as I figure out stuff.

{ A M N E S I A }

THE BASICS

Long story short, Conor remembers things about the outside world and basic things, but she doesn’t remember personal details about them or her own personal memories. It is unknown why she doesn’t remember anything and whether it is mental or physical trauma or something else.

Conor hasn’t made much of an effort to try and recover her memories because she finds it better to not remember what she’s lost than to remember everyone and everything she’s left behind. She’s seen what it’s like for other survivors to cope with the loss of their homes, families, friends, and their old lives. 

Conor still gets easily confused about details mainly because over time she’s learned more about the outside world in more modern ways and gets them confused with what she knows and what she’s learned.

At times, remembering things or thinking about what she does know feels like an out of body experience. She remembers things but they feel so far away.

She thinks she must have been married or at least engaged because when she was found, she had a ring tan line on her finger, but has never figured out what happened. Conor does feel sad sometimes like she’s missing someone and may sometimes cry in private, but she’s learned to repress those feelings over time as she’s given up on remembering who they are. 

She obviously knows she’s not from modern times or really any time after the 1940s, but she can’t pinpoint her actual birth year and when she grew up. With so much time on the island and spending so much time with more castaways from modern times, she feels much more modern. 

EXAMPLES

Conor knows what a car is and how it operates and that the cars she knew were different than they are now, but she doesn’t know if she had a car, who taught her how to drive, or how cars look different than they do now.

Conor knows films exist and has seen older films such as A Trip To The Moon (1902), but she doesn’t remember that she knows about them because she saw them when she was ten years old and not because some film major crash landed on the island and told her about it. 

Conor loves and misses music and listened to it a lot. She knows she listened to music on records, but couldn’t tell you specifically what her favorite song was (she does know of specific artists and songs) or if she ever went to parties where they played music.

{ I N T E R V I E W }

What do you remember last before landing here?

The woman looked at the person in front of her, searching for any words that made sense. She couldn’t think of a damn thing. It’d been a few days since she landed on the island and this was the first time she’d seen anyone. She was still surprised that anyone heard her when she spoke to herself. She was sure that she was alone. “I just remember…sand and water. The sun and the sky. I woke up on a piece of driftwood or something. There was some kind of fabric on it and when I thought I was going to drown because I was so exhausted and there wasn’t any kind of land in sight. When I woke up again, I was on sand and that was it.” She bounced her knee up and down as she stared at the person. “I can’t remember anything else. I-I don’t even remember my own name."

Have you ever killed? If so: why? If not: could you?

“I just told you that I don’t even remember my own name,” the woman replied. She knitted her eyebrows in frustration. Did they even hear what she just said? How could they even ask her something like this now. She looked around at the trees blowing over their heads and she let out a heavy sigh. The woman leaned forward and spoke in a low tone. “If I did, would you kick me off the island? Send me back to sea so I can die of heat stroke? Wouldn’t that make you a murderer too?” She raised her eyebrows. She leaned back. “Or did you want to know if I’ve killed someone so I can kill someone else so you don’t have to get your hands dirty?” The person in front of her didn’t seem amused. The woman bit the inside of her cheek. “Let’s just go with no. I haven’t killed someone. And if I did have to kill someone, it’s going to be because of self defense. If you want someone dead, you’ll have to do it yourself or find someone else."

What is your greatest achievement? Biggest regret?

The woman shook her head, laughing without humor. “Greatest achievement? Not dying on the open ocean,” she replied. Considering she didn’t remember anything, surviving a few days on an island by herself seemed like a pretty big achievement. “Biggest regret?” On the other hand, she couldn’t think of what she regretted. She came on the island by herself and couldn’t even say what year it was, which seemed awfully sad. She had a watch, so at least she could tell them what time it was, but there was nothing on it to indicate a year. “I guess I regret not having a calendar on me,” she told them.

[agent-dalecooper-archive]

dani powell in s2 ep6

[waltermckey-deactivated20211222]

Dani Powell in Prodigal Son 1x2 - Annihilator 

[waltermckey-deactivated20211222]

Dani Powell in Prodigal Son 1x2 - Annihilator

[agent-dalecooper-archive]

dani powell in s2 ep11

[rylandsgrace]

[beccs]

DANI POWELL Prodigal Son | 2.11

[waltermckey-deactivated20211222]

Dani Powell in Prodigal Son 2x9 - The Killabustas

[conorxoblivion]

aureliemarchand​:

━━ ••●•• ━━

It’s no secret that she likes to have a task at hand, so once Conor mentions the fruit, she begins to wander forward a bit, looking up to see if she can spot anything amongst the branches. “Hm.” Aurélie murmurs at the explanation of the visions, her head tilting. “As in… someone who happened to look like you? Or…” She hadn’t experienced anything similar, but that doesn’t stop Aurélie from trying to work up some sort of answer. “Or truly yourself? As if you are living another life?” Or living in memory, Aurélie reminds herself, thinking once more of Conor’s particular circumstance.

She’s not privy to indulging much, nor does she want to rub the strength of her own memories in Conor’s face, so Aurélie takes a moment to quietly contemplate before adding on. “I saw many strange things. Some sensical, others not. There were times when I thought I had left the island entirely, or traveled backward in time…” The thought dwindles and she shrugs. “A curious thing.” And then Aurélie takes a few steps forward to pluck a mango from the low branch of one of the smaller trees, tossing it back to Conor once she has.

"I...She looked like me, dressed in something similar to what I had on before I landed here,” Conor replied, choosing her words carefully. The woman that looked like her had a jacket, a belt with room for smaller tools, and a watch. Conor remembered the watch when she first hit the water and then when she woke up on the shores of the island, she didn’t have the watch anymore. “It looked like she was living another life. She taunted me, reminding me that I don’t remember anything in my life,” she said. “But I also saw a man, dressed similar to the way I was dressed, but his outfit seemed more complete. And the way he spoke to me was like he was speaking to a friend. He called me ‘Crazy Craven.’”

It was the closest she’d come to learning a name for herself other than the one she chose. Assuming Conor could trust the apparition, she made the conclusion that her last name must have been Craven. Conor Craven. It still didn’t seem quite right, but at least now she had a last name for herself. “Do you think I can trust what I saw?” she asked, not really expecting an answer from Aurelie. Conor stopped what she was doing to listen to what Aurelie’s experiences were with the Fog. “So you saw more than just people? You saw entire scenes or memories? I don’t know what to call them....” Conor reached out to catch the mango, setting it into the basket and then resuming picking more fruit.

[conorxoblivion]

dreams-of-a-lark​:

☁︎︎☽☀︎︎☾☁︎︎

“This place works in mysterious ways. Maybe your remembering now partially because it’s been so long? Your mind finally lifting the defenses it created to protect you all that time ago?” He had no idea what had caused her amnesia or even how amnesia really worked in general, so he felt a little stupid and helpless when it came to trying to provide her with any real answers. Still, this logic made sense to him in all his limited understanding. He hoped that the rest would start to come naturally to her and maybe his support and encouragement would be enough help. That was the hope at least, because, outside of that, he couldn’t think of much else to do to make himself useful.

He watched the expressions on her face morph from confusion to what looked like recognition. Was she remembering? Perhaps something adjacent to memory—some sort of nostalgia. She was receptive to his suggestion, which made him feel a little better in terms of usefulness. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ She spoke out to the nothingness and he peered through the fog in the direction she spoke to, squinting as though that would do anything to help him hear a response. However, regardless of the heightened hearing that came with being air attuned, there was no way he could hear the voices that played for her ears alone.

‘Did you hear that?’ He looked back down at her and shook his head, “What did he say? Did he tell you his name?”

"I tried for so long to remember and I...I gave up,” she said, mostly to herself than to Lark. Conor always wondered why or how her amnesia worked. They didn’t exactly have machines and neuroscientists or psychologists here to scan her brain and figure it out. She didn’t know if there was even a medical cause or if it was all psychological after landing on the island or something that the island itself caused. She ultimately ended up accepting it since she couldn’t change anything. Why wasn’t Lark seeing anything? Was was she the only one seeing this? Even if Lark couldn’t see what she was seeing, wouldn’t the island want to make him see something too? Who had he left behind? Who did he lose after landing on this island?

“No more crash landings,” she said under her breath. “He called me ‘Crazy Craven.’” Conor leaned her head to the side as she thought about the name. It was a name that felt like it was on the tip of her tongue but she didn’t know it. “He hasn’t said his name yet.” When she called out to the man and asked, he didn’t respond. Instead, the man laughed once again, cracking another joke, calling her ‘Crazy Craven’ again. He waved at her as if he were saying goodbye. As the man began talking once more, his words sounded more and more distant. The skin on his face became even more pale and seemed to tighten. His cheeks and eyes became hollow, as if he were incredibly sick or dead. Conor figured the man would be long dead by now considering how long she’d been on the island, but it was still a shock to see the man seemingly decompose before her very eyes. 

“Wait. Wait!” The man was fading away quickly. “Come back! You have to tell me who I am! Who are you? Who am I? Who am I to you?!” An act of impulse, Conor started to run towards the man and away from Lark, not even thinking about what else could be in the fog.

[conorxoblivion]

toni-graves​:

【 𓆣 】

“Sure did.” Toni nodded as she siddled up closer to Conor. Just about ready to spit off to the ground before ultimately thinking better of it. “I’s extrapolating on my theories about Matthew’s killer. Shore enough we’ll see it’s one of them secret mole people, or fish people, who ain’t nothing but mole people what are able to breath water.” Seamus was having none of Toni’s theorizing and Esther had asked her gently but firmly to find something else to do. So Toni had been making herself scarce and only occasionally pulling aside one of her fellow islanders to share her thoughts. 

“Course that’s not why I got yer attention. Naw. I wanted to talk to you direct, Conor. Ev’ry one’s walking round like theys still got fog in their heads. That fog o’ loss and pain and that ain’t bound to dia-asp-per-ate any time soon.” She meant dissipate but clearly aimed for the word and missed. “I thought your keen ear and clear eyes might’a helped me out on my ventures this evening. But seeing as you’re jumpier than a cricket with a nerve condition you’re welcome to pass.” Toni frowned and looked the other woman up and down. “What’s got you rattling anyhow? Thought that fog only played around in people’s past. Far as I know you ain’t got one.” 

Conor pursed her lips together as Toni mentioned Matthew’s death and who could have killed him. It was definitely a thought that had crossed her mind when she wasn’t thinking about her own experience in the fog. “Mole people and fish people?” She raised her eyebrows at Toni as she could tell that the woman had come up with her own wild theories, much like everyone else on the island. “What makes you think it’s them? And is it one or the other or would they be working together?” It never hurt to hear what other people thought about the situation. 

Conor shook her head and snorted. “No, I’m not rattled. Just confused, but not grieving or scared like everyone else got,” she explained. She felt a little lost and dazed, but it wasn’t the same as most people’s experiences with the fog. “Just because I can’t remember my past doesn’t mean that I don’t have one apparently,” she added. She saw someone, except that Conor didn’t even think she could trust what she saw because of the island and its habit of playing tricks on people. “Tell me more about your theories,” she said, welcoming the distraction. 

[conorxoblivion]

aureliemarchand​:

━━ ••●•• ━━

Frankly: she’s never quite known what to make of Conor. One of the island elders, like herself, yet with no memories of the world to look back upon. Is that better? Aurélie wonders yet again, tilting her head and observing the woman’s far-off gaze, then immediately chastising herself for the thought. No. No, though her memories cause her a wistful sort of woe, who would she be without them? She would know nothing of her relation to Tomas. She would hold none of the same convictions. No, it’s better to remember, even if it hurts.

Of course, none of this is said to Conor, whom she simply regards with a patient smile as the other woman jolts to attention. “I did,” Aurélie confirms, but it’s far from judgmental. “I simply wanted to know how you have been faring. I have not seen you recently and times have not been easy as of late.” Since the death of Matthew, that’s the easier answer, except it snags like a barb in her throat. She opts for something different, something perhaps intrusive: “Did you catch sight of anyone or anything? In the fog.” Can memory haunt a person who doesn’t remember?

Conor smiled at her friend and then leaned down to pick up her basket with some fruit she’d picked up. “I was just taking a moment before I went back to picking some fruit,” she said, so she didn’t seem like she was dawdling. When she realized that Aurelie wasn’t there to berate her, Conor set her basket back down. Conor took a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders. “It really has been a while,” she said. It seemed strange that living on this island and working nearly every day that they hadn’t seen each other for a while. 

She crossed her arms over her chest as Aurelie spoke. Her question was the most common one that she’d heard from everyone. Had she seen anyone? Does someone without any memories see anyone? Was she dreaming about anyone she knew? Conor wasn’t sure if she wanted to say anything at first, but she trusted Aurelie more than most on the island with matters like this. “I did see someone. Actually I saw two things. It was strange. I saw someone and then I saw...myself, but it wasn’t myself if that makes any sense.”

[conorxoblivion]

Conor wasn’t exactly sure how upset she was about Matthew’s death. She was friends with him and all and enjoyed his presence, but it had been so many years on the island and so many years of being alive, far beyond an average human. She wondered if there was a limit on how many years one person could take before it was their time. She’d been on the island for a century and she wondered how much longer it would be until it was her time to go. Conor was also more upset by her own encounter with whatever specters the island made her see in the fog than Mathew’s death. 

She jumped a little, startled as someone tapped her on her shoulder, her train of thought interrupted. Conor turned around and looked at them. “Did you say something? I wasn’t...I didn’t hear you,” she said, which was unusual for someone who was air attuned.

[conorxoblivion]

iyazakbar​:

ᵒᴼᵒ▫ₒₒ▫ᵒᴼᵒ▫ₒₒ▫ᵒᴼᵒ▫▫·∙∙∙✈

“Alright. Fair point.” Iyaz conceded with a cough that cleared his throat. Somewhere in there were a few apologetic huffs and sounds that were due to Conor. As petulant as the doctor felt like being Conor had made a good case for staying inside. Who knows what could happen in the fog on this island. Still, because he felt contrarian. “Who’s to say that wherever we go on this god forsaken island that whatever it has planned for us will reach us. The only safe place we can be is getting off of it.” 

His lips pressed together as he looked out and away from Conor. She was the elder her, the more experienced. He sighed. “Right. I’ll help you with the other people, yeah? Just let me know what needs doing.”

Conor pursed her lips as Iyaz stated that the safest place for them was to be off the island. He certainly had a point and it was one that Conor thought about for many years, but she’d accepted that they were stuck on that island for good. If help hadn’t come in a hundred years and she’d barely aged a single day, then she doubted that they’d be saved at all at this point. “I guess then that most of us will be around to see it, no matter how many years into the future it could be,” she said to Iyaz. Assuming they weren’t killed, Conor had no reason to believe that they’d die of old age and if they continued to survive, they could all live to be hundreds of years old.

“Let’s make sure we clear anything out of the main pathways. We marked them with stones and shells. Pick up and remove anything dangerous and we’ll make our way towards the Pit to see if anyone can start a fire,” Conor instructed. The fog was thick and heavy. Maybe a fire could help people find refuge or help make it easier to see.

[conorxoblivion]

dreams-of-a-lark​:

☁︎︎☽☀︎︎☾☁︎︎

“Maybe you’re seeing things now because your mind’s finally allowing you to remember. Then again, the island can be cruel, perhaps it’s dangerous to believe it’s doing anything for your benefit.” Leave it to the island to throw out glimpses of fond memories only for the sake of tearing its inhabitants apart. For her sake, he hoped her visions were positive, helpful even, no matter how fragile his faith in that possibility may be. From what he’d personally encountered of this night it seemed everything was out to get him. If he could help her and avoid the demons lurking for him in this fog in the process… well it sounded like a win-win.

Her response to the apparition seemed to be positive, maybe this night really was gracing with the slightest bit of luck. “That’s good…” but when he looked at her he saw the glimmer of a tear rolling down her cheek and reached out to gently wipe it away. In the dark it was hard to tell if the tears were happy or sad, bittersweet perhaps, “Hey… that is a good thing, right? Better a friend than the alternative.” If she was seeing and feeling all of this now, maybe it was because some part of her subconscious needed her to pull the memories from an outside source. Maybe this mystery man was specifically manifested to answer her questions. “I understand if this all feels like too much. You can always walk away, but… if you think it would help, do you want to try talking to him?” 

"It’s been a century,” Conor breathed, “Why would it want me to remember something now?” She wasn’t sure if she was referring to the island or her mind, but it was all the same. Something was happening, something that could help her remember. At least she hoped it would. Was the island simply making her remember to torture her or was her mind actually starting to piece things together thanks to the strangeness of this island? Conor took in a deep breath to calm herself down as the man in front of her continued to stare. She tried to take in what he was wearing, searching for any clues as to what he did or where he was from. 

Conor jumped a little as Lark reached out and wiped the tear away from her face. She put her own hand to her cheek, feeling the tear. “I...I don’t know,” she said. She’d lived so long on the island, living in bliss per se because she didn’t know what she was missing. She wasn’t like everyone else who had lovers or friends or family to miss. Conor simply lived with a hole in her heart and it was easier to not know what she was missing. Now, seeing this man in front of her, she felt suddenly much more aware of the people she missed, even if she didn’t know them at the moment. She wondered if they ever missed her and if they searched for her. She glanced at Lark and nodded. “Who are you? What do you want?” Conor asked the man. The man smiled and laughed. “How’s the leg, Crazy Craven?” the man replied. He seemed to be moving in slow motion as he stepped towards her. “No more crash landings, huh?” 

Conor turned to face Lark again. “Did you hear that?”

[conorxoblivion]

danixb​:

@conorxoblivion​

Privately, Dani was more shocked there was only one body in the sand after the fog and chaos of the day before but given how much Kimiko’s loss still affected them - they could absolutely empathize with the shock and grief all around them. They’d stayed on the outskirts of the gathering, mostly not feeling like it was their place to be, but also still a little too discombobulated from the various experiences of the night before to wander too far. They weren’t entirely sure they’d picked up and locked up their own pieces enough yet to be of assistance to anyone else but they also … didn’t want to be alone yet either. 

So, they eventually picked a spot closer to the tree-line and set up camp with their back safely against a tree, pockets full of fruit for anybody who looked like they could use some substance, and a kettle full of hot water for tea-brewing with a few options depending on what one found comforting (florals, mints, or fruits). 

They’d settled on mint for themselves and had just begun blowing across the top of the steaming mug when the caught sound of footsteps headed their way had them instinctively freezing. Shaking it off, -safe they were safe here- they looked up and found a newly-familiar face walking past them. Dani thought for a minute of just letting them go but…maybe nobody should really be alone today. 

“Hello, Conor.” They greeted with a somber half-attempt at a smile. Should they ask how they were doing? It seemed like everything was in poor taste this morning. Good morning was definitely out. How are you seemed dicey and ill-advised…so…”Would you like some tea?” Dani offered instead. “Or fruit?” They placed a banana and apple down between them before awkwardly falling quiet again. They weren’t quite sure if they should bring up the night before or Matthew or just…let it all go and pretend none of it was happening until people were more ready to deal. 

After what happened, Conor didn’t really want to be around the usual people she associated herself with. She didn’t feel like talking much or asking them what they’d gone through. Everyone was still mourning the loss of Matthew. She knew him and she enjoyed his company, but she didn’t feel nearly as attached to him as others did. Ever since she landed on the island, it was hard for herself to form stronger bonds with people. She wasn’t entirely sure why but she figured it was because of her memory loss and fear of forgetting any friends she’d made on the island. 

Conor found a familiar face by the trees and she crossed her arms over her chest as there was a soft breeze. “The apple would be nice,” she said with a small smile. She sat down next to Dani and took the apple, rubbing it on the bottom of her shirt. She looked at them as she bit into her apple. She hadn’t spoken much to them before what happened, but after what they saw and what she said to them when she saw them as herself, there was sure to be a bond between them now. There was no way that Conor could continue going on like nothing had happened. “Did you want to ask me any questions?” People always had questions for her once they found out she didn’t know anything about herself.

[conorxoblivion]

clarke-davenport​:

Clarke had recently visited the edge of the jungle, as evidenced by the creature hanging over his shoulder. Hunting wasn’t a pretty job, but a necessary one. In the two years that he had been there, it had become somewhat easier, but he hadn’t quite reached the apathic state he hoped to embody about the whole situation. Clarke had become a rather skilled hunter, versed in the arts of trapping an animal. Which his conquests, there was hardly any flesh lost to unsanitary wounds and he wasn’t shy about letting the others know that.

Clarke dropped the corpse with a thud, only followed by another as he dropped himself in a sand near the pit. “We’ll be dining like royalty tonight.” He spoke, attempting to project modesty. The sun was setting, but the fire already crackled softly. Clarke noticed the wood had been replenished and it was a nice big fire to gaze into. “I’ll skin it in a sec, I just need to catch my breath for a bit.” He flashed a smile, bearing his teeth. “What have you been up to? You better have been as productive as I have.” He smirked.

Conor was tending to the fire she’d started when Clarke made his way from the edge of the jungle. He’d gone hunting and it appeared that he was very successful as he had a couple of animals over his shoulders. She’d gone hunting many times in the years gone by, but she always preferred fishing and catching crabs in the water. Conor gently fed some wood into the fire and glanced up as Clarke started speaking. She stayed crouched down as she pushed some of the embers around, the best part to start cooking the fish she caught. “What have I been up to? Catching and skinning some fish, setting crab traps, starting this fire, repairing some shelters, and helping with building some pens for the pigs. Has it taken you all day to catch only two animals?” She said in a slightly joking manner.