language of flowers | akise & ib
For an uninhabited island, the means to sustain hundreds of students was certainly an incredible convenience. Fortunate even, if he could simply leave it at that. Just to keep the teens here alive, an incredible amount of supplies would have to be brought monthly, if not weekly. The origins of the restaurant food or the restocked goods of the market eluded him, but if he could find even a small sample of evidence from an outside source, hope for an escape could blossom into something far more real-- something tangible.
If only room for carelessness could be created. Even with the genuine wish to see to the happiness and return of everyone on the island, it wasn't so easy for trust to be built within tense airs. Paranoia plagued most, understandably so, allowing cooperation to dwindle to a heartbreaking level. All the while, their captors-- he suspects far more than a single mastermind-- quite rarely took the liberty to engage in casual conversation. The only source of comfort could be found in other victims, if it could be called that much.
Akise was seated upon a bench within the first island's park when his scarlet gaze noticed a face of innocence. One hand gently clamping his notebook shut, the item was tucked away so that his full attention might be given to this petite guest, always one to acquaint himself with those unfamiliar. Little as she appeared, everyone here held worth, and the views shaped by those with remarkable talents were undeniably valuable.
"What do you make of that Monobear?" he asked, his tone a pleasant pitch despite having skipped over a traditional greeting. The inquiry too, was a bit of an unusual approach, given what little was understood of the stuffed contraption in question. "Do you hate him?"
