the recluse

Harry Atkinson 

[reclusiveharry]

Harry Atkinson || The Recluse

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Harry grew up a half-wild, bushwhacking kid in New Zealand in the early 20th century. She worked with her brother, John Atkinson, an acclaimed botanist, until he was arrested during an anti-war protest. In 1943 she broke him out of prison, and in their escape they were transported to Meridium. The Atkinsons lived in the jungle, cataloguing the fauna and occasionally trading with the island groups. About 40 years ago, the siblings split, and Harry has been on her own in the island interior since. A broken leg has recently forced her to join the group on South Beach, where she has remained.

Written by Grey (she/her) GMT + 13

[reclusiveharry]

jupitergeorge​:​

Jupiter was grateful the other lady seemed as interested in the cactus as Jupiter was - until the poor little thing’s prompt squat was maybe a little too prompt.  Balance lost and she fell backwards - and this was one of those pivotal moments with strangers.  Ignore the pratfall? Or lend them a hand?  This lady looked hella self-sufficient, so Jupiter opted the first option, cleared her throat, and focused entirely on the cactus.  Hopefully the right choice.  

Seemed right, when the lady introduced herself.  “Harry!  That’s a cool name,” Jupiter chimed, only looking over when it sounded like Harry had righted herself.  “Is that a family name?  My mom named me Jupiter after the planet, obviously.  Biggest planet in the solar system, she’d say.”  Jupiter beamed, bright as her namesake.

Grateful that Harry knew plants - was she being modest or was it really just ‘a little’?  Time would tell - Jupiter carefully leaned in too, as Harry pat the dirt.  “Right?  I don’t think I’ve seen any, uh…cactus-like plants on Meridium.”  What was the term?  “Succulents!!  Doesn’t that just make them sound so tasty to eat?  I could never have succulents at home; my kids would try to eat the leaves when they were babies,”  Jupiter giggled.

But her mirth was short lived, cut off by a little yelp as the cactus came to life and literally threw its damn spikes at them like a porcupine. The glare from Harry prompted a Canadian,  “I’m sorry!” from Jupiter, but there wasn’t even time for apologies.  When the cactus launched itself at them, Harry raised an arm in front of Jupiter.  And Jupiter took a hold of Harry’s coat, and air-whooshed them both back a few metres away from the dang thing.  It fell flat on its face, then charged again.

“Sweet Jesus it’s mad as hell!  Do we run? Do we kill it??”  Jupiter asked, ready for the former much more than the latter.

@jupitergeorge​

Harry blinked as the woman explained her name, she sure as hell had never heard of anyone called Jupiter before. That was one part of the new generations Harry had never gotten a handle on, the new types names they gave themselves. "Haven't heard of that one before," Harry mumbled, looking Jupiter over. "My grandmother was called Harriet," she explained, with a shrug.

Harry hadn't seen any succulents either, or cactuses. The climate was completely wrong for them, too humid and wet. Harry ruminated on her own thoughts as Jupiter happily babbled to herself about succulents sounding tasty, keeping them away from her kids. Harry hummed as she spoke, hoping that would be enough to tide her over in Jupiter's eyes.

Thankfully the cactus saved Harry from having to figure out if Jupiter wanted her to ask more about her kids. The only down side was that Harry's hand ached from the prickles. Her little prod seemed to have enraged the plant, which was ridiculous. It was a plant. Yet it did its best to launch itself towards them-

Her thoughts scrambled as Jupiter propelled them backwards. As her feet reconnected with the ground, Harry felt a wave of nausea from being moved so rapidly, having to reconfigure the feel of the ground around her. Her heart thumped soundly in her chest, each beat causing the prickles in her hands to throb. The disgust on her face stayed as Jupiter suggested that they kill the plant. "Kill it?" Harry repeated, outraged at the mere suggestion. She scoffed, pushing herself away from Jupiter. "We'll move it," Harry said, turning to the cactus. She clenched her hand and erected a earthen dome around the cactus. "Somewhere dry, away from people..." Harry said, scrambling to think up a good location. Inside the dome, the cactus thumped loudly against the walls.

[reclusiveharry]

jupitergeorge​:​

“Ohhh yay, you are someone!  I wasn’t sure if it was just my imagination.  Or a beast.  Or a ghost…I mean.  This island, am I right,”  Jupiter half-laughed at herself, but really she was agog at the woman who emerged from the forest.  Like something out of a European fairy-tale, who got the unfair description of ‘old hag-woman’ but turned out to be a fairy godmother in disguise.  Literally carrying a bundle of sticks loaded on her skinny back, covered in muck and hair so untidy - were leaves caught in it? - that Jupiter’s urge was to comb out her hair and put it in some nice braids.  

She didn’t do any of that though, of course.  It was rude for one - maybe this lady liked her hair nests!  Like that old wizard from The Hobbit movie.  On Meridium anything was simply a lifestyle, life by choice.  She could do what she wanted and more power to her.  You go, forest-fairy-tale-woman.

Jupiter saw the way the other didn’t touch the cactus, but stared at her hands; Jupiter interpreted it as judgement, and she sighed.  “Yessss, I touched it.  It just scared me, I don’t think I’m hurt.  When I came over, it was all shuffling and sad and - oh!  Look!  There it goes again, see?”

She pointed at the cactus, which seemed to have lost its defensive posture.  Too tired or sick or something.  The thing just sagged like a limp, wrinkly penis.  Jupiter didn’t say anything about that either, but!  That was where her mind went! “Poor thing!  Do you know anything about plants?  Oh - I’m Jupiter, by the way.  I haven’t seen you around, but I can tell you ain’t new.”

@jupitergeorge​

Anything was possible on this island, Harry had to give the woman that. Harry hummed, a non-committal agreement with that point. Seeing as how she was taking a break Harry pulled her canteen out of her side bag, enjoying a deep sip of the boiled water from the night before. It was a tad stale, bugger.

Harry wiped the spare drips of water from her mouth with the back of her hand, raising an eyebrow as the woman admitted to touching the cactus. She didn't seem to cut up about it at least, more interested in telling Harry that it was moving-

Harry's eyes followed her hand and the movement as the cactus, once erect and perky now sagged, like a rotting cucumber. Harry hummed, crouching down into a low squat- that she immediately regretted when her knees complained. Unsteady, she rocked back and fell onto her butt, ungainly and awkward. Fuck. "I'm... I'm Harry," she offered to... Juniper, was it? Lots of botanical names about these parts. She wasn't sure whether she should feel offended at being obviously not new. If anything, she finally looked closer to how old she felt.  

"I know a little about plants," she humbly mumbled, curiosity piqued at this responsive little cacti. "Haven't seen this before," she muttered, pushing her fingers into the dirt around them. A top, layer of gritty, sand, and then some dense, sticky clay. Not the sort of well-drained soils cacti preferred. She hummed again, frowning as she looked over the cacti and saw dark brown mottling at its base. "Too wet for it here," she said, grabbing one of the mulberry branches and poking at the cacti.

The plant suddenly engorged again, pulsing as pinpricks of pain exploded on Harry's hand. She was too surprised to say anything, to do anything beyond a wordless cry through gritted teeth. The damn thing... shot out its prickles at her and Juniper too. Now the cactus was wriggling violently, appearing to pulse stripes of white as if warning them away like some... octopus.

"Fuck..." Harry muttered as she looked at her hand, studded with tens of tiny prickles. She crawled up onto her knees, and then onto her feet again, glaring at Juniper, as if this were her fault. "It's... not happy," she grumbled, circling around the cacti to come stand closer to Juniper. The cacti lunged towards them, Harry put out a hand and pulled Juniper back out of reach.

[jupitergeorge]

location: near the amphitheatre @reclusiveharry​

“Oh…hello there,”  Jupiter followed the sound of what at first seemed like snuffling.  Not human but something snuffly like an injured animal.  She’d found enough beaten-up critters around the Inn, and exploring haunted and abandoned places to pick up on the sound.  Baby birds, injured racoons and gophers and bunnies, that sort of thing.  

But when she got close, it wasn’t a fluffy mammal or bird.  It was…well it looked like a fat fluffy worm-caterpillar type thing.  One of those fuzzy spiky green ones.  Labyrinth rules taught her to look around first, make sure this wasn’t one squirmy beastie preceding an invasion of its brethren; but nope.  It was just this one thing.

“Oh sweet lord, why do I always find the weird shit,” she complained to herself as she then carefully approached the caterpillar.  It was about the size of a Pekingese dog. “ Am I a dang Pokémon?  Is my ‘ghost-whisperer’ ability evolving on the island or some shit?  Helloooooo, sweetie, I won’t hurt you!”

Timidly she reached out to the reticulated thing, only for its soft fuzzy hairs stand up on edge like porcupine quills the moment she touched it.  With a yeep, Jupiter fell back, clutching her hand as the thing snapped to attention.  “You’re no caterpillar!  What the hell are you??”  Jupiter yelled at it.  No eyes, no mouth as far as Jupiter could tell. A long body and two wibbly arms, no legs.  The body just went right into the sand, and…

“Are you a cactus?”  she squeaked, then sound caught her air-attuned attention before any movement did.  She called out towards the scrubbrush.  “Yo, hello!  Anyone there?  You gotta see this thing!” If anything, to just confirm that Jupiter wasn’t hallucinating.

[reclusiveharry]

@jupitergeorge​

Harry really had to work on sneaking about, especially with the number of air attuned on the beach. She'd been minding her own business, and all that. Really, she should just ignore the woman's voice, it would only end with her taking on more work. Harry gave a hefty sigh, and reluctantly wandered over to the voice. John always said that underneath it all she was a big softie.

"What am I seeing?" Harry asked drolly, taking the moment to place the bundle of mulberry sticks off of her back and on the ground. She needed to rest more, after she'd gotten stuck as... well... an older version of herself. Thankfully not too old, but old enough to feel it after a lifetime of youth. A few more lines, auburn hair streaked with brown and grey.

Harry's eyes eventually settled on the bright green plant in front of the other woman. It looked like a picture perfect cactus. The sort of cactus she'd seen on Western novels and magazines, but in miniature. "This?" she asked, motioning to the cactus with her hand. Careful not to touch it. Who would touch a cactus? She looked down at the woman's hands, one clutched in the other.

[reclusiveharry]

@madibyrd​

Harry had thought she had adjusted to the island and its ways. The shifting of the jungle, the strange beasts and flora, the powers, her eternal youth. She had even accepted being swapped with a copy of herself, and the voice that whispered to her about entering the jungle, of letting go and rotting among the debris. But she was not a fan of this nonsense, of time glitching among them.

The farm was a disaster, but it was the sort of mess that she could throw herself into. Harvesting what she could before the fruit tree became a seed, before the fruit rotted, before the fruit became a tree in its own right. Today, some of the potatoes had gone to seed overnight, so she was planting them instead of eating them. 

She'd felt someone approaching, but she'd assumed it was Lily, maybe even Tommy come out to annoy her. "What do you reckon? We'll get spuds, or these'll disappear?" Harry turned to look at them, a small smile on her lips. It wasn't Tommy or Lily, it was... someone she didn't know. She’d seen her working about the farm before, and kept a healthy distance, as she usually did. But... as Harry looked at her for longer, she realised that she did know her. A flash of memory hit her, being frustrated that the woman wouldn’t come with her into the jungle, the scene tinged with green. The beekeeper, someone her fake had interacted with. "What do you want?" Harry grumbled, all the warmth vanished from her voice. 

[reclusiveharry]

kazxraval​:

The one that started this. The hell did Harry mean? She looked growly, a bad-tempered kid who had been asked to say cheese for the camera. Unfortunately for Harry, Kaz wasn’t exactly put off by that sort of thing. But even less so now. “The big one– the one spit in half at the bridge?” Flight 441. That started this, she thought? A new conspiracy for Kaz. Perhaps the island complained a whole lot more in the last few years. Fair.

Harry proved less inclined to tell him why he should handle the rock. “Bias me,” he repeated flatly. So if he was about to shove his hand into a basket of cobras unknowingly, she’d worry about biasing him? It’s a little aggravating, this unnecessary Goldilocks-ing. Kaz took notice of how cautious Harry was to avoid direct interaction. “You’re not touching it. I’m the test subject, huh?” 

He looked at it again, fragile and calm where it was. Slick, almost wet in appearance. “I have seen them, yeah. Are there others in the plane engine?” His brows truly showed his confusion then, and he murmured more to himself. “Why was it there.” How long had it been there? Was it placed there, same as the spit in half plane was placed on the bridge. “It looks like that, doesn’t it.” Chin tipped up, eyes on the obelisk behind Harry. “Ones I’ve seen aren’t so polished.”

His left hand tightened into a fist as a bolt of pain along the tendons cried out. It set the frown on his face deeper. Kaz chose to use his right hand instead. He moved slow towards the crystal until his palm hovered inches about it. It began to jump, or– he squinted and heard a low hum. The rock wasn’t jumping at all, it was the sand that vibrated to form a tight circle around the crystal. 

Kaz jerked his hand away and scrambled to his feet. “Fuck me– has this happened before?” Faster, quick and clipped in a way he rarely spoke. This. The barely there buzz, the evidence of a pattern in the sand. “This… fucking circle?” 

@kazxraval​

Harry grunted as Cash asked whether the big plane was the one that was split in half. All the planes there were buggered up, but she didn't really care if he knew which plane it was that she was talking about.

Her attempt to rope someone in to naively touch the crystal and confirm her hypothesis was backfiring in the face of Cash's stubbornness. Harry glowered at him, her lips going pale as she pressed them tightly together. "I've touched it," she stated, frustrated at this resistance while also being able to respect him for doing so in the first place. It was exactly what she would have done, though more polite. "It made me feel... fearful," she said, a carefully chosen word. Fearful, not scared, not irrationally terrified. "Sisco got an electric shock. It's harmless." She shrugged, curious to see whether he'd offer himself up for testing, now that he knew.

"Didn't see any others," she said, as he began a barrage of questions. If plants were her business, these crystals were Cash's. As to why it was there... "Island's been acting up, since that plane arrived," Harry offered, the taste of her and Sisco's new conspiracy theory. Though Cash brought up an interesting comparison between the obelisk and the crystal in front of them.

"The names..." she grumbled, always uneased by the tight print that distorted the smooth surface of the obelisk. It was like a ship's register, a motion of bureaucracy to the madness of the island. Her musings were dashed as Cash held his hand over the crystal, and the crystal moved. Harry jumped, scooting backwards as the crystal began to move, no, as the sand began to move, shifting into a circle.

Had that happened before? "No," Harry snapped, chest heaving with shallow, nervous breaths. What the fuck was that? What the fuck had she gotten into?

And yet... Harry pushed herself forward once more, staring intently at the crystal. She slowly moved her palm closer, hovering it above the crystal. Her hands sweated as she waited for something to happen, and just when she was about to give up it jumped again, the sand twitching, interspersing the neat circle with jagged spikes. Harry pulled her hand away and got to her feet, standing next to Cash as her heart raced in her chest.

"This fucking place..." she grumbled, spinning away and rubbing her hands over her face. 

[reclusiveharry]

sagetomashardy​:

“Give you a fact,” Tomas repeated, a little incredulously. “Please. I can’t imagine all that you probably have stored away up there and already know. How about, mmmm…” Something suitably niche, he decided, but then undercut himself anyhow gravitating towards something that Harry absolutely had every possibility of knowing: “One of my favourite agricultural stories is about the Vegetable Lamb. The one that’s an actual tiny little lamb that grows on a stalk and eats all the grass around it, and then dies, and then people can eat it and its blood is sweet as honey.” He considered for a moment. “That’s not strictly a fact. But if there’s anywhere a Vegetable Lamb could possibly exist, it’s here.”

Tomas had obligingly told Harry about Tess, about the bonds and the breaks that he and his twin sister had gone through, and she looked away. Bored, maybe? Tomas hurriedly backtracked over that long-held kneejerk worry. It was Harry. More likely he made her feel a feeling, and she was coming to grips with it, or deciding she didn’t like it and didn’t want any more. That would be okay. Whatever she felt like, he could roll with it.

“Christmas disaster?” he prompted, when she offered up that little bit, like they’d pulled a cracker open together and that tidbit written on a scroll was what popped out. But then the conversation took another turn – Tomas shaking his head but looking interested when Harry asked if he knew her arrival story – and Tomas stared at her, round-eyed and not blinking. Hung up on one word that catapulted him right back to the NY subway system in the middle of summer and the tune he’d riffed up in his head of the insults the old vet on the train had flung at him–

🎶ya lily-livered, ya bum, ya coward, when Real Americans are gettin’ blown, blown, blown to pieces what’re you doin’, ya dodger, ya conchie 🎶

–feeling like his ability to make sound was stuck in his voice box, padlocked shut as Harry went on. At this point Tomas had seen her in so many ways that he’d never expected: the wild desire for the sap that they’d fought each other for, the silent animal pain of those thorns in her poor lungs, the unspoken contrition over what her dupe had done to the farm. This part, though. The water in her lashes, like a fern after the rain. The aching, arid regret in her voice as she extended a kindness, a regret, a longing on behalf of the sister who wasn’t there. 

It took just about everything Tomas had to keep himself from spilling tears (harder now than it had ever been, with his errant emotions jerking loose whenever they damn well felt like it) so he said, “You’re the one person here who I really believe that from. I went conchie too in my time, Harry, got arrested during protests, got sent to do alternative service. I can’t … I mean obviously I can’t speak for John but I think he’d know, deep down. Because he’d miss you too. Till the end of his days.”

He wanted to reach out and gather her hands in his own, clasp them together like they could really bridge the gap of their families and somehow repair the siblings torn apart, but Tomas didn’t. It was enough that Harry made her offer to plant flowers for him in three words, and he smiled at her, slow but wide, wider than most of his smiles. “I’d like that,” he said. “Wherever you want. Anywhere. Everywhere. Nobody would dare stop you.”

That made him chuckle a bit – the mental image of Harry crouched over grubbing a dwarf hibiscus into the path and snarling at anybody who questioned her – and Tomas nodded when she surmised about certain interests being passed down. “I think so,” he said. “Why not? We’re all pieces of the people who came before us. And Meridium, more than most places, loves repeating cycles and patterns. Most likely the more you get to know Lily, the more of John you’ll see in her.” Tomas gave Harry a sidelong look, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Probably see some of yourself, too.”

Tommy decided to amuse Harry's quest for more knowledge with a bit of folklore. "A Vegetable Lamb?" she repeated, a soft snort of amusement at the idea. "Would make herding a lot easier," she grunted. Yes, it was a cruel existence, growing on a stalk until it was too tall to let you graze for food, but botany was filled with cruelty, flowers which only bloomed to die. She nodded with his assessment, if it would be anywhere, it would grow here.

Harry was uncomfortable with emotions, as a whole. They made her feel feminine, and thus weak, a sign that she couldn't really keep up with the boys, that she'd be better at home. And she could keep up, she was tough and strong, somewhere between man and woman. But hell, if she wasn't close to crying speaking Tess' words for her. Using Tommy as a conduit for John. He was so like her brother, a damn conchie, so she let him speak for him, let that bittersweet apology, statement of mutual longing twist in her chest. If John missed her, what would he think of her, settled down at this camp? It wasn't giving up on him, she reminded herself. It was staying in the same place, giving him the chance to catch up and stumble upon her.

Harry sniffed deeply, looking down at her shoes as her vision blurred with repressed tears. She blinked hard, praying that they wouldn't drop, wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Yeah," she said, to John missing her, to trying to grow Tommy some flowers, to Lily inheriting aspects of the two of them. She liked to think about John's love of taxonomy and organisation being passed down to Lily, that he still impacted her life, despite his absence. "I'm going to tear his ear off," Harry commented, pushing up and away from the tree trunk where they'd rested. "Let's finish these trees then."

END. 

[reclusiveharry]

lina-delgado​:

She knew that the question was rhetorical, obviously there were going to be bugs and rodents and other animals scampering and skittering around the jungle floor. But Lina wasn’t in the mood to be stuck here for the night and she had no problems showing her agitation. “Well obviously I expect for sun to be peeking through the trees even at night, and for the ground to be covered in beautiful flowers, and maybe a helpful sign that says ‘civilization that way’.”

Lina would rather not be killed but the question and scoff felt like an insult. Like she wasn’t good enough to be killed in the depths of the jungle? “Jealousy.” she answered, as if that was the obvious answer to why someone would kill her. “Or you just strike me as someone who is hanging on their last thread of sanity, just waiting to snap.”

They continued to trudge on and while she didn’t purposely make any loud, dramatic sighs and whines that would usually garner sympathy (since Lina was positive she wouldn’t get any), she still walked along with a pout on her face. She barely ever spent any time out in nature, not since she was a young kid. All of those desires to run around and get dirty had been stomped out of her once she had been adopted, because it was uncivilized and gross and nobody would have any interest in her if she was going to spend her days rolling around in mud. Which Lina agreed with wholeheartedly.

Lina was offered the hammock when they arrived to the camp, which she wasn’t going to argue with because it was either that or the muddy ground and even the thought of risking getting a little mud in her hair or on her clothes concerned her. Not that she had anyone to impress out here, this person seemed to have absolutely no interest in looking how Lina was always taught a woman should look. And for some reason, that annoyed her, almost as much as the woman’s sass and sarcasm annoyed her. The question about whether she saw any rats had Lina make a snarky face, because clearly the other woman felt oh so clever once she opened her mouth.

“Not yet. But I’m sure some sort of vermin will pop up.” she muttered as she climbed into the hammock, which honestly did smell of a similar odor that she picked up when this jungle dwelling creature of a person found her. She tried her best to get comfortable, huffing a few times as she squirmed around before just giving up, laying with her arms at her sides and staring up at the tree tops. “What is even your deal anyway?” Lina ended up asking. “Like, what is all this? Living all this way out in the jungle like some grimy hermit. As if being on this island isn’t bad enough.”

@lina-delgado​

Brat at least had the good graces to be funny with her attitude. Harry didn't want to encourage her, so when she smiled she turned away from Brat, so she couldn't see her expression. "Yeah right," Harry merely said, as if Brat had believed in that.

Harry was curious to know why she would kill Brat. She'd expected something silly, like out of hunger, or spite, or to save supplies. Instead Brat decided to give Harry the most ludicrous reason to kill her of all reasons; jealousy. "Jealousy?" Harry repeated, incredulous as she looked Brat over. Yes, she was gorgeous, in the way that women who liked attention dressed themselves to be. She was certainly prettier than Harry, but that was hardly a damn competition, now was it? Her second rationale, that Harry might snap, well that was perhaps too close to home. She had a nasty temper, after all. Brat wasn't prodding too viciously at her.

By the time they'd gotten to the camp, Brat had practically adapted to the wilds of Harry's home. She didn't even complain about the possibility of rats, merely sneered at Harry that she expected to see them later. As she should. They were pests for a reason.

It looked like they were going to get through this by Brat knuckling down and ignoring each other until morning. That was fine by Harry. That was her preference for most uncomfortable pairings. She'd just placed the log on the fire when Brat peeped up, questioning Harry's choice to live like this. There was a certain judgement to grimy hermit that was a tad offensive. "Jungle's quiet," Harry offered, even as the birds around them began to erupt in their twilight concert. "Been living like this for... decades now," Harry commented, pushing the log around in the hope that she'd help it catch. "You think the beach is better?" Harry asked, with a disparging scoff. "Spend eternity gossiping about twenty people?" That was her personal version of hell. Conversations with people she didn't care about, about people she didn't care about.

"How'd you get lost then?" Harry countered, jutting her chin towards Brat's direction.

[reclusiveharry]

starlit-lilies​:

“Mhm,” Lily said, nodding, watching quite pleased as Harry tucked in. She still loved the family dinners, when it was just her and Tomas and Flora and all the thoughtful conversations that came with it, but she also missed the people. Alex singing bad songs from a place called Broadway, Jovi’s animated stories, Jupiter nudging Libby and laughing at one of their inside jokes. Aurelie and Joaquin coming down every week. Even the people who’d come to discuss the island and give Tomas and Libby their ideas on how to resolve issues. The Hardy leadership had been too brief and left their family on shifting sand rather than solid ground in its wake.

Harry hadn’t gone to one of the dinners despite her invitation, but, well. Lily couldn’t always get her way, she was unhappily relearning.

Harry, eating the fish with her bare hands, offered that she could be tempted to go goat-catching. Lily grinned, following her cue and ditching her own cutlery, nudging her ankle against Harry. “What would tempt you?” she teased. “Quality aunt-niece bonding time not reason enough to justify some goat wranglin’?” Wranglin’ was said with a purposefully exaggerated accent, a mimicry of that time she’d heard someone jokingly say swangin’, though she hadn’t overheard the context of that one. Hopefully it’d get Harry to smile, or laugh if she was lucky.

Harry’s lack of enthusiasm was alright, though. Goat wranglin’ didn’t sound like much fun to Lily, either. She could find someone else or just go it alone. (Or delegate it, but that felt like letting Tomas down, somehow. He’d given her the task for a reason; she’d prove she could do it.) It was equally unsurprising that Harry did not talk aobut how fucked up she was after the trees, but Lily wasn’t given enough time to press; Harry offered something that sounded much more interesting than combing the island for random goats.

“Redirect the river?” Lily asked, shifting her posture to sit up, to show she was listening. She took an egg. “Okay, I’m listening. What are you thinking? Doesn’t that take like, a hundred years to happen?”

Niece-aunt bonding time was supposedly a reason to do a great many things with Lily. Like a picnic, like learning about who she was, the things she liked, learning to care about her, if that was possible. Harry carefully chewed her mouthful, giving Lily a weary glance as she shrugged her shoulder. "That's all you can offer?" Harry asked back, deadpan and teasing. Maybe a little too deadpan. Would Lily know that she was joking? Harry cleared her throat and pressed her lips into an awkward smile. She could tell Lily was trying, putting an extra twinkle in her voice to keep Harry engaged. Harry was trying herself, but she was bad at this. She did best with people like Sisco, too blissfully wrapped up in their own joy to be bothered with Harry's lack of it, or those like Tommy, who was similarly brusque. Was Lily like that? There was only one way to find out.

The river redirection was an idea she'd been toying with in her own head. It felt good to watch Lily light up when she spoke it aloud, set her teeth into it. Harry's smile turned a tad genuine. "Maybe not the whole river," she explained, scooting to the edge of the mat and brushing a patch of dirt flat with the palm of her hand. "River's here," she traced a thick, squiggly line in the dirt. "Source is from the mountains," she indicated, a triangle above it. "Farm's here," Harry traced and X to the right of the river. "I make a channel in the ground, you find the path of least resistance." Harry demonstrated, using one finger to trace a thinner, winding stream off the river and around the farm, eventually rejoining the river later on. "Yeah? Bob's your uncle. It won't be easy."

@starlit-lilies​

[reclusiveharry]

a harry aitkinson moodboard 🌿

[reclusiveharry]

kazxraval​:

If Harry felt caught off guard, Kaz didn’t notice. Too busy looking at a small but significant hunk of dark crystal. More! All the details aligned and noted. A corner of the obelisk bounced back the reflection of the sun off its glassy veneer. But Kaz pushed the white sunglasses to the top of his head for a better view. Cradled in a piece of dingy fabric– NEW! A voice shouted in his head. Her lips open to speak, yet instead she gestured to the ground for Kaz to take a seat. 

He did, with legs crossed. Cautiously, as though the pair of them were balanced on either end of a see saw. Another one! THE one! The voice breathless and excited. So why had a sense of dread crept over him? 

His gaze snapped back to Harry’s as she told him where it had been found. “Which airplane?” No longer one. The drought dropped several more literally at their feet. Some still in the process of being harvested for parts. Others in neat borders along the bridge. In the engine of all places. “Is this the only one you found? How was it in the engine? Just fucking– sitting there? Attached?” Not that Kaz counted on Harry to answer a very reasonable question.

Can you touch it for me? They both had plenty of island experience, although Harry’s certainly outranked his own. Solitary experience. Handling an item with no knowledge of it wasn’t the brightest thing to do (never mind it was exactly what Kaz had done with the crystals in the first place). 

“Why. What happens when you touch it,” a suspicious ask.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈  

Harry had grown up around people who were passionate about their interests. John was the obvious example, like a dog with a scent when he found an interesting tidbit in one of his specimens that he had to pin down and understand. So she recognised the focus, the barely-suppressed excitement that Cash had on seeing the crystal. He couldn't take his eyes off of it. Harry reached for the cloth that she'd wrapped it in, worried for a moment that Cash was mesmerised, when his eyes snapped up and stared straight at her.

Which plane had she found it in? "The one that started this," she grumbled, unable to stop herself from feeling defensive at his questions, his quick barrage of questions. She breathed in, thankful that her mind was her own, and begrudgingly realised that if the crystal had been a plant she would have asked similar questions. He was hunting for context. Harry breathed out, forced calm in her voice as she explained it for Cash. "It was in the big one, behind the propellers. I snapped it off the inner wall." Harry gritted her teeth together, chin proud and high. That should be enough for Cash boy for now.

Cash asked questions, he didn't blindly trust Harry and touch the crystal simply because she had asked him to. He gained one point for not being stupidly trusting, and lost another for questioning Harry. "I don't want to bias you," Harry countered, motioning carefully around the stone. "Nothing too bad, or too good."

Harry countered Cash's questions with her own. "You've seen these before?" Not an unreasonable jump to make, given his obvious excitement, his questions about where and how she had collected the crystal.

[reclusiveharry]

sagetomashardy​:

“I can see that for you,” Tomas said, when Harry gave up that plain tidbit with no embellishment: i like learning. “You have a lot stored away. How about sharing it? D’you like that part?” He kept his voice carefully neutral, just curious, not wanting to put her on the defensive. “I like that part. A lot. That’s why I became I teacher, I guess, to get the chance to do that. Keep circulating the learning around. But I know that’s not everyone’s thing.”

His comment about Tess, her similarity to Harry, was a path that apparently Harry didn’t mind taking a jaunt down, and Tomas ran his tongue along his teeth for a moment before he spoke. “There’s the more obvious ways,” he said, “she was like you in how she looked and acted. Kind of mannish and abrupt with people. Especially people she thought were kinda stupid.” Tomas gave a sidelong smile. “But she also … my sister could be so giving, sometimes. In ways that were hard to figure out, if you weren’t used to her. We went through hell together holding hands and she was – she was a million times tougher then me, but she understood that we needed to do it together. She held a space for me next to her. So I wouldn’t have to go through it alone.”

Tomas dithered there, unsure if Harry would find this objectionable or not. “I wish we hadn’t grown apart at the end there,” he said. “She was pretty unyielding when it came to her worldview and I fell short. I disapproved of some of her choices but it was nothing near the way Tess could just … cut you dead. If she wanted to.”

And then Harry – Harry asked about flowers, and Tomas almost sobbed out a laugh, feeling faintly hysterical. Jesus christ, he was wound up. “I’ve wanted to grow flowers the whole time I’ve been running the farm,” he said. “Always. I love them. But I couldn’t keep them alive and there was always something else coming up. Something more practical, more important, something that would benefit more people. I never had time for my flowers.”

With that said, Tomas didn’t even need to verbally agree about the island doing its pulverizing. That was true whether he said it or not. 

She was upset about John being gone, John not being there to raise Lily, and Tomas nodded. “He’ll always be her father,” he said, tentatively. “I didn’t get the chance to raise her. I have her now, is all, and I love her very much, Harry.” The question about what Lily liked seemed to sweeten the mood a bit, and so Tomas picked it up gratefully: “Birds. And cooking, and she’s incredibly clever with her hands, at crafting, y’know. She makes all sorts of little finework tools, needles and awls and the like. She loves languages and multiple words for things. As many words as she can collect. I think that appeals to her, finding connections.”

Tomas lingered there for a moment, on the tip of the thought, then committed to it. “Like you and John do, right? Biological linkages, taxonomy, interconnectedness. Sometimes I feel what would make Lily happiest is to find out that we’re all linked to each other like a peptide chain.”

Harry grumbled as Tommy asked her whether she liked the other side of the coin of learning, the joy of teaching others. Yes, no, she didn't know. Student, Hannah, she wasn't too bad to teach, but mostly Harry got her to do chores for her that Hannah thought were some deeper lessons instead of simply Harry trying to get her out of her hair as soon as possible. So, eloquently, Harry shrugged. "Sometimes," she admitted. "Depends on the student. I'm not... patient." If the person would listen to her, if they got things right the first time, she liked the intense attention that came from someone listening to your every word, gulping them down their gullet. She disliked repeating herself, holding their hand and stepping them through each and every motion. Not to say that Tommy was that sort of teacher, but she believed him when he told her that he found joy in sharing what he knew. It didn't surprise her. "Give us a fact then," she said, as if testing his teaching abilities. 

Harry gave Tommy a look as he spoke about how she and Tess both had little tolerance for stupid people. Harry couldn't even refute it, or his boyish, teasing smile, because he was right. Harry hummed and looked away. It was all too close to home, how Tommy lured Harry out of her shell, his own intense bond with his sister that had fallen apart. How Tess had cut him dead... Wasn't that what Harry had done to John? Say the words she knew would hurt, sinking her teeth into it. Her vindictive, cruel enjoyment of seeing every mark hit its target. The rush of the argument hadn't been worth it in the end. She wondered if Tess felt the same. 

"When we were out there..." Harry began, coming to a stop as she considered her words, what she wanted to say. She didn't have to say anything more, that was what most people hadn't figured out. She could stop talking any time she wanted. Harry swallowed her spittle, and then jutted her chin in the vague direction of the jungle. "Out there... there's nothing else to talk about but the past. Christ, we must have gone over the Christmas disaster of '38 a thousand times," Harry reminisced, shaking her head at the memory, and the memory of remembering it with John, laughing about the burnt chicken and flat pavlova, the impudent second cousin who had long overstayed her welcome. 

Harry paused, squinting her eyes to hide any emotion that showed through in them, running her tongue along her teeth. "Do you know how we ended up here?" she rhetorically asked, given how few people she had shared it with. "I was broke John out of a detention camp. He was a conchie... conscientious objector." Harry pursed her lips together. "A stupid one. Got arrested at a protest." Maybe Harry was just as stupid breaking him out. John had let himself be arrested thinking it would be a big political statement, that it would embolden their cause. It hadn't, but his arrest had been the catalyst to everything that had followed. Harry spending time with his fiancee Maria, to knowing her intimately, to breaking John out of the camp and ending up here, and then all the way to Harry telling him about her and Maria in an explosive argument that lead to the two of them splitting up. 

Harry sighed, uncomfortable with how much she had shared, the layers of hardened shell she had peeled back, letting Tommy peek at her vulnerable, soft heart. Even if all she had told him so far were unrelated vignettes, skirting the truth of it all. She could stop. She couldn't stop. "I pushed John away in the end... Should have told him..." Harry trailed off, swallowing hard and praying that Tommy wouldn't see the tears gathering at her lashes. "Tess... she'll miss you," Harry said, speaking for Tess, using Tess to speak for herself. "She'll regret cutting you down." 

Harry found herself laughing along with Tommy, as the conversation shifted to flowers. Flowers were so innocent in comparison. And as if the parallels between Tommy and John couldn't grow any stronger, Tommy loved flowers. Of course he would do. Harry gave him a tight lipped smile, an approving nod of her head. He never had the time for flowers, running the farm took too much from him. "I have time," Harry offered, even though she hated the beach, even though she acted like she was going to uproot herself and leave at any moment, the slightest provocation. She knew that wasn't true, that despite her nature she had settled here, for now. 

One of the reasons for her change of heart had been Lily, John's daughter. Tommy soothed some of her ire by stating that John was her father. That put her in a good mood to listen to his own justification for his title. It didn't set entirely level with Harry, but it was close enough to pass by without further comment beyond a south of neutral grunt. He loved Lily, it was more than Harry could claim. Her love for Lily was filtered through her love for John, and Sisco said it was alright, that it would take time, but she still felt like the imposter aunt while madly defensive of John's role. 

She was grateful then that Tommy plainly told her what Lily liked, and Harry repeated each fact in her brain, tucked them away safely. The bit about languages made her smile. And Tommy was correct in guessing it in one. "John loved taxonomy, all that Latin and Greek," Harry said, shaking her head side to side. "You think that's hereditary?" 

[reclusiveharry]

shadesofsylver​:

Out of the blue, a dry branch went down next to him, and a tad startled he stumbled backwards, eyes directed up now, searching the trees for whatever had thrown the piece of wood at him. Sylver quickly figured that it wasn’t a something, but a someone, and said someone wasn’t exactly happy about interference with their proper work. He raised his hands in an attempt to defend himself in case the person came even closer, taking another two or three steps back just to make sure. Though the woman, as it turned out to be, didn’t seem all that threatening. She could rather be labeled as…enraged. Furious.

“I thought somebody left this here,” was part of the explanation he offered her. “I waited a good amount of time to see if someone would come take it, and when no one did, I assumed I was good to go.” This is no place to underestimate someone, and he’s definitely not going to make that mistake with her, either - with her seething words and furious eyes. “Calm down, won’t you, mother earth. I was trying to destroy your work, no.” 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈  

He thought someone had left the wood there. Harry rolled her eyes, because, yes, she had left the wood there, for herself to collect. "Christ," Harry cursed, jumping down to the jungle floor with an audible thump. "Why don't you just piss off?" she hissed. If he wanted to calm her down, telling her to calm down had the exact opposite effect. She shoved at him with her power, the topsoil he stood on moving back a foot as a warning of her own power.

Behind her came a groan and the sound of twigs snapping. Harry looked up, just in time to hear the loud, thunderous crack of a branch coming loose from the tree, careening down towards them. Harry lunged forwards out of the way, diving for safety. The vibrations of the branch smashing into the earth sank deep into her bones, a teeth-shattering thrum. But she was clear, even if the pile of wood she'd collected was now crushed under the branch. "Shit," Harry swore, pushing herself up to her hands and knees, smeared with dirt and leaves, some twig of something having left a surface level scratch about her face. 

The tree was a strangling fig, the host tree the fig had encased and smothered long dead and rotted, leaving a cavernous hole in its wake. The broken branch had left a huge, gaping hole in the tree, a yawning, open maw. Except, the tree wasn't empty. In the darkness something writhed, light reflecting off of something hard and shiny. Harry got to her feet, her adrenaline-fueled heart thumping heavily as the thing inside the tree shifted, making a clattering noise. Thick, wire-like antennae rose from the hole, swivelling in the fresh air. Then came the face, the small, black and beady eyes nothing in comparison with the thick, meaty, black tipped mandible. The creature quickly crested the edge of the gap, its long, writhing, wriggling body slithering down the trunk of the tree, surrounded on either side by long, talon-like legs that shimmied with every step. It must have crawled out from a hole tall enough to be a church's spire, but as it neared the ground the end of its body was still within the tree itself. Harry's eyes widened as she tried to figure out what was wrong with the centipede's body, why it seemed to shiver in the light. Her mouth soured with bile as she realised that it was carrying its babies, white, squirming bodies that crawled and clung to their mother's back. 

Hell. No. Harry imagined the thoughts behind the mother centipede, annoyed that her nest had been disturbed, her babies swarming and hungry. Harry gritted her teeth, and used her powers to shove frantically at the earth, using the ground to crash the fallen branch towards the centipede. It reeled back, momentarily. It recalibrated itself, antennae twisting in the air as its face locked onto where Harry stood. "Shit, shit, shit," she swore, stepping back, remembering that there was someone else there with her, someone who might be able to help. Harry turned to look for the thief, her hands tight fists by her sides. “Oi, you got any ideas, Frenchie?” she hissed at him. 

[reclusiveharry]

.. 19th century character trope generator

Headstrong Great-Aunt with Homosexual Tendencies

[reclusiveharry]

lina-delgado​:

The other woman claimed she wasn’t lost and Lina wasn’t sure if she should believe her. If she wasn’t lost then why was she looking like this? Looking so disheveled and smelling rancid. She must never leave this place if that’s the case, and maybe that was a good thing. Mostly because it meant that she and the others wouldn’t have to be subjected to her on the beach, but would she know the way out if that was the case?

Lina crossed her arms across her chest right back, when suddenly she was walking away from her scoffing as if *she* was the superior one here. (Maybe she had an upper hand being in her element after all but that didn’t make her better than Lina in general.) The offer to stay at her camp made Lina scrunch up her nose, having no idea how her camp would look if this was how she walked around. She wanted to argue about staying the night out here but before she could even speak it was explained why they couldn’t go now.

“Fine. Guess I’ll just…” stay here was what Lina was going to say but the mention of bats made her shudder. “Go with you I guess.” She finished with a grumble, following behind with her arms still crossed, not impressed with this turn of events. “There better not be rats and spiders and shit scurrying around your little campsite though, might just take my chances with the bats if that’s the case.” Lina complained, honestly imagining something a raccoon would make, a big trash pile infested with all manner of bugs. “And so you know, if you’re luring me out to try and kill me in the dankest part of this jungle, just know I will fight back cause I refuse to die in a place like this.”

Brat looked liable to throw a hissy fit at... well, just about anything. That was what made Brat, bratty. Harry was fully willing to call her out on her bluff, when Brat hesitated and acquiesced, grumbling as she marched through the jungle towards Harry. Because Harry was nice, she waited, going marginally slower as she lead Brat in the direction of her camp. It wasn't too far.

"This is the jungle," Harry explained as Brat complained about the risk of spiders and rats. She did not control whether spiders or rats scurried about her campsite. "What do you expect?" she rhetorically asked, though there was a definite risk that Brat would answer that. "You're the one lost here, chook," Harry pointed out, holding up a mess of vines for Brat.

Harry did give Brat a look as she proudly declared that she would fight back if Harry was doing this to kill her. "Why would I kill you?" Harry scoffed, rolling her eyes as she walked forwards. Hopefully Brat didn't have many plans to annoy Harry to the point of homicide.

As they approached Harry's campsite, she did her best to try and see it through fresh eyes. In the middle was Harry's campfire, embers surrounded by a carefully maintained area of bare dirt and stones. Beyond that was a simple lean-to Harry had made out of earth, a three-walled shed tall enough to stand in, shelter for when it rained, a place to store her supplies including the firewood and kindling. Next to it, hanging free between two trees was the hammock that Sae had brought around for her, that Harry had been sleeping in recently. To her it looked neat and tidy, an approximation of homeliness. She, of course, didn't see the omnipresent dirt, the leaf-litter, the dead bird hanging off the branch of the big tree (dinner) as anything out of the ordinary.

Harry motioned to her campsite, pleased with her work. "You can take the hammock," Harry offered, because she could imagine Brat complaining if she didn't have it. Harry moved to it first, grabbed one of the two blankets there and tucked it in the lean-to, given that was where she would be sleeping. Harry then got to work stoking the fire, while they still had dregs of daylight to work with. While the voice in the back of her mind was still just a whisper, a threat of a sleepless night. Harry sat cross-legged in front of the firepit, adding kindling in a neat pyramid before tucking in grasses and dried leaves to get the fire started again. "So?" she asked Brat, as bright orange flame started to kiss the kindling. "See any rats?" Harry asked her, acerbically teasing.

[reclusiveharry]

neshionals​:

Nesh stayed as he was as she glowered, growled, and towered over him. The way she behaved reminded him of his older sister, Aabha, wearing the highest heels just to be as tall as he was, sending him the nastiest looks just to make him feel bad. Due to that, he was used to this, and didn’t mind being crouched as the woman kept glimmering and being grumpy. 

“Funny walking, yeah. Though there’s way to work against it. Keep walking like you would have before the injury, all straight, and I’m sure you will see some progress.” Patients declining help or treatments wasn’t unusual - and he knew better than to pressure them into doing things they didn’t want to do. Part of the reason why he just went with her behavior, and only slowly stood up from where he was kneeling. The doctor wiped dust from his knees and hands and thighs, pushed his hands into his hips and shook his head.

“Patient Harry is totally free to smolder back into the jungle.”, he confirmed, “Though feel free to come back to daylight if you ever need something else. Doesn’t have to be medical,” he made sure to add, “I still owe you something.” And he did - she saved his life, and the check-up she got in return had been brief, little. His mother had taught him better than just to accept good gestures. Even if most people didn’t want things in return, they still appreciated it.

END.

[reclusiveharry]

starlit-lilies​:

⋆ 。゜☁︎ 。⋆ 。゜☾゜。⋆

Harry had no adverse reaction to being called auntie, which was a pleasant surprise. “Course I brought lunch,” Lily said with a smile, beginning to unpack the rest of her basket, setting out the dishes on the blanket. “I brough, uh, eggs, fish, bananas, corn. Take your pick.” Soft textures, for the most part, not a lot of spice. Stuff that was easy to eat. Harry seemed the type to prefer that.

She was glad that Harry seemed pleased to finally have her brother’s journals; they hadn’t been doing anything but collecting dust in the High House. Lily had tried to read a few but they mostly seemed like science-y stuff. She’d liked the drawings of plants, though. But Harry would care about them more than she did, and they would be in a better home.

Harry’s absent musing made Lily settle back, crossing her legs. She had no comment to it, but it helped drape the weight back over her shoulders, like Libby draping her jacket over her before bedtime in the jungle. Heavy and solemn and mournful. Wilted.

“I’m okay,” she answered. “Just tired. Dad’s—” She abruptly paused, her thumb slipping out under her bracelet to rub at the black pearl. For a moment she thought about soldiering on, but it was too late. Whatever wound she might’ve just inflicted would be bleeding already. Still, she corrected, “Tomas gave me some stuff to do so I’m not moping around all the time, so if you ever get bored and want to catch some goats with me, let me know.”

Lily studied her aunt’s face, the same haggard tiredness she saw in Emre, in Tamyra, in her own reflection. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Is there—is there anything you need? Anything I can do to help?”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈  

Harry's mouth started to water as Lily set out the food in front of her. It was easy for her to get caught up in her work and forget to eat. Harry settled herself down opposite Lily and reached for the eggs, already peeled. "Thanks," she said again, raising the egg towards Lily in a little toast before she bit down on it. Harry sighed, enjoying the comforting, nostalgic taste of a good, hardboiled chicken's egg. Harry ate the rest of the egg in a series of rapid bites. “You make this?” she asked in between bites.

She glanced up at Lily as she said talked about her Dad, only to clarify that she meant Tomas, Tommy. Harry hummed through her mouthful, her chewing a well needed measure to cool her head before she said something stupid and hotheaded. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Lily didn't mean it as an insult. Still, Harry's heart flared at the unfairness of it all. John should be here. "Goat catching?" Harry asked, unable to hide the tension from her voice, even if she'd meant for the question to been an innocuous attempt at conversation. "Had a go myself, with uh..." With Angel, though Harry knew that wasn't her name. Not that she wanted to say as much to Lily. "I could be tempted," Harry said, shrugging her shoulders as she now reached for the fish. She picked up a piece with her fingers only to realise that there was some cutlery and plates to serve out individual portions. Harry hesitated, but brought the fish to her mouth anyway, powering through the faux pas as if it had always been her intention.

Harry stiffened as Lily asked if she needed her help, wheedling out the tiredness that plagued Harry ever since her return from the trees. It was hard to sleep when your own voice called for you to return to the trees, when you knew you would awake to find the vines and roots of the nearby plants had ensconced you in a cocoon. Harry did a lot of thinking instead, staring into the flames of her campfire. "I'm all good, eh?" Harry grumbled, fishing her canteen from her side and taking a large gulp of water. "Tommy helped me plenty," she admitted, as if that shared help would ease Lily's need to offer her help.

Harry mused on Lily admitting that she was bored, moping around the farm. Maybe that was why she offered to help Harry, wanting a project that she could tackle. "It would be easier to water the farm if we redirected the river," Harry offered, something they could work on together.