#exbrotherdes

[nothisproperty]

exbrotherdes requested: DIY

If only Juliet Burke had been more of a handywoman, things would have been so much easier for her on this side of the island, she mused as she struggled to fix the lean-to the people of the fuselage part of Oceanic 815 had decided to give her. It had collapsed after a heavy storm, and she had no idea how to get it back up with the wind seemingly blowing from every direction. She'd managed to get the wooden frame back up, but the canvas just wouldn't stay in place. It was much like a kite now, wanting to stay airborne more than obeying the wire she'd attempted to tie it with. It was frustrating, to say the least, but she had to be quiet as to not wake anyone. Not that the canvas didn't make an awful lot of noise all by itself, but she hoped the strong wind would mask that a little.

It did mask footsteps in the sand, though, or at least the sound of them. It wasn't until she turned around to grab more supplies to attempt to tie down the canvas and she almost bumped into Jack that she noticed he was there.

“Hey, looks like you could use a hand with that.”

She gave him a shameful look and uttered a laugh.

“Yeah. You'd think after so many years on this island I'd know how to tie down a piece of canvas.”

Jack laughed, and they both decided to blame the wind for her inability to build an improvised sleeping spot. Half an hour and a lot of struggling against the strong pull of the wind later, it appeared the canvas was tied. Juliet wiped an arm across her forehead and leaned against the side of her makeshift beach bedroom.

“Thanks. Don't think I could've done that by myself.”

That drew a chuckle from him, and he looked around to watch the trees shake under the heavy force of the wind.

“Yeah, me neither to be honest. Sometimes it's nice to have some assistance.”

Just as he'd finished that sentence, a strong gust of wind dove under the canvas and pulled it up, tearing two of the corners in the process. Juliet threw her hands up in the air.

“I give up! Guess that's a sign I'm sleeping under an open sky tonight.”

A short silence fell, in which Jack's eyes darted towards his own makeshift tent, and then back at Juliet.

“Not necessarily...”

[hechangedtherules]

exbrotherdes:

Desmond attempted to make eye contact with the man in front of him, and the moment he achieved it he looked away. Ben might help him find answers, but what if they weren't the ones he wanted? "I've lived on this island for three years brother, and I get the impression it doesn't care much for revealing it's secrets. But you've lived here all your life--" he braced, "--so tell me, do you know what's happening to me?"

Ben could tell Desmond was uncomfortable— that was easy enough to see. What was harder to see was what he wanted. 

“I’ve lived on this island for three years, brother, and I get the impression it doesn’t care much for revealing it’s secrets.” 

That brought out a small scoff from Ben. Desmond hit the nail on the head, Ben knew there would always be secrets on this island, that much would always be set in stone.

“But you’ve lived here all your life, so tell me, do you know what’s happening to me?” 

Ben looked at him for a long moment, measuring, then gave a small shrug. When he spoke, his voice was slow and deliberate— he was obviously lying, but he wasn’t trying to hide it.

“I don’t know any more than you, Desmond.”