Secoiya was peeling a bowl of potatoes in the kitchen, keeping the peels for the compost bin and laying the peeled roots on a chopping board in front of Yanire. The counter was spotted with grey and white in a clever sort of way that messes were not as evident as with plain white counters. Yanire stood at the older woman's side, watching her work. While watching, a question formed in Yanire's mind. She figured no harm could come from asking.
"How do you guys get supplies on a secluded island?"
Secoiya didn't look up from her work and absently answered the question.
"We have helicopters that do supply drops monthly, and sometimes Adriel and Zayn leave."
"Zayn? Is that the older man in the suits?"
Secoiya smiled and nodded.
"He's a quiet fellow, that one."
Yanire nodded. She'd yet to hear Zayn say anything at all.
"Love, do you mind dicing those potatoes for me?"
Yanire shook her head and took a small kitchen knife, cutting into the roots expertly. When the conversation between them died down some, the older woman had pulled out her walkman and slipped a new tape into it. The Prince Album "Purple Rain" started playing, a personal favourite of Miss Secoiya's but one that was relatively unfamiliar to Yanire. The woman was quick to notice that despite sounding beautiful, it was not a very happy song.
"What's the story?"
Secoiya stopped, furrowing her brows at Yanire.
"What story?"
"The one behind the song?"
Secoiya's eyes widened at the young woman and she moved her hands to her hips.
"Love, we've got a movie to watch later."
Yanire smiled- she hadn't known there was a movie about it.
The women went back to preparing dinner in a comfortable sort of silence.
_________________________________________________
One morning, Yanire decided to accompany Miss Polson on one of her grounds-checks. It was a pretty common occurrence on Alvarsson island, these patrols. The woman walked the entire perimeter of the island, ensuring nothing was amiss with their weapons technology, and no ships were dipping too close to them. The island was small, but still at least five miles around the entirety of its perimeter.
Yanire noticed by mile three how physically taxing the journey was and she couldn't possibly imagine how Miss Secoiya did it so frequently. Five miles in only an hour or two? At least two times a week, often three? It was impressive, she couldn't deny that.
"Miss Secoiya! Please wait up."
The woman used the opportunity to stretch her legs some, eyes still darting this way and that at their surroundings. Her alertness was similar to that of a hawk's and her resilience was equal. The older woman was a beast. Yanire finally caught up to her.
"Sorry, I don't mean to slow you down."
The woman smiled and waved her off.
"Nonsense love, I enjoy the company."
"How can you possibly have so much stamina?"
Yanire's tone was half wonderment and half resentment; she'd had trouble even keeping up with Joeri when he got particularly energised.
Secoiya's face was a knowing one and she pulled the edge of her jogging shirt up just slightly. Yanire stared in disbelief. The woman bore a toned six pack and now that she thought on the matter, Secoiya's arms were rather defined as well.
"Holy-"
Secoiya laughed at her and let the shirt fall back down comfortably. As unfortunate a predicament that being stranded on an island was, Yanire was still fond of this older woman. The woman was the perfect amount of playful and motherly all at once and that was a rarity.
Eventually they made it back to Adriel's home and Yanire slumped onto the living room couch with sore legs but an unbeatable sense of accomplishment. Certainly, she'd go on this walk again. Miss Polson excused herself to her own quarters, saying she was going to shower before they started dinner.
Yanire pulled herself off the couch begrudgingly, with intent to do the same. When she stepped out of the doorway and into the hall, she bumped into Zayn, causing two of his file folders to crash onto the floor. The woman quickly scooped them up and handed them to him. He eyed her with an unreadable expression and nodded, before heading towards Adriel's bedroom. Yanire almost wondered if they were lovers, but it wasn't a question she dared to ask.
She had been on the island, she guesstimated, around two weeks now. It was just long enough that they were all accustomed to seeing her but not quite long enough that she dared assume they wouldn't harm her. While Yanire rinsed the sweat and dirt from her hair, an oddity struck her: she had no way of keeping track of time as it passed. She presumed two weeks, but for all she knew it could've been a month by this point. That certainly wouldn't do.
She pondered solutions as she stepped out of the still steaming shower and wrapped a towel tightly around her body. She eventually decided that her best bet was to keep a journal but grew nervous at the prospect of asking for one. Would they allow such a thing? She couldn't be sure.
When her body was dry, she quickly got dressed, still disliking the prospect of being naked in the home. It wasn't as though anyone had ever walked in on her, hell the bathroom door had an inside lock on it. It was just the principle of the matter.
Drying her hair, Yanire had made up her mind almost stubbornly. She was going to ask for a journal no matter the mayhem it could cause. The worst they could really do was decline her offer. Adriel's words rang in her mind again and goosebumps traced her forearms. She steeled her nerves anyways and exited the room, making for the kitchen.
Secoiya was already there, an apron stained from many years of service wrapped about her and her hands busy with rolling out dough. Yanire moved to her side, starting to help by shopping up the vegetables on impulse. It had sort of become an unspoken agreement between them. Yanire could help Secoiya with the chores so long as she didn't complain about the music or get in the way.
After the loaf was in the oven and the vegetables were sizzling in the pan, they took a short water break. Yanire tapped her glass a bit nervously but pushed through.
"Miss Secoiya?"
"Yes, love?"
"Would I be able to keep a journal?"
The woman looked up from her water at Yanire. Her expression read a healthy amount of scepticism but they both knew that decision wouldn't actually be up to her.
"I'll ask for you, but don't get your hopes up."
Just before they gathered to eat, Yanire heard a knock on her door. She'd gone back to her room to wash the food-remnants from her hands and tidy up before they ate. Furrowing her brows, she opened the door and was surprised to find Adriel standing there. He looked up through sandy blonde waves with a rather inexpressive face.
"Lined or plain paper?"
Yanire raised a brow.
"Pardon?"
"Do you want a lined journal or a plain one?"
She shook her head slightly in shock and searched his face for any hint of joking or sarcasm. There was none to be found in the man as he stood before her rather patiently.
"Preferably lined, but really whatever you'll allow."
The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smile as he leaned back out of the door frame to the hallway floor and picked something up. When he was standing upright again, it was with one hand extended towards her, holding a compact leatherback journal.
Yanire blinked, taken aback by the swiftness of it all.
"I had a couple unused ones in the office."
He shrugged the matter off, jerking his hand a little, pushing Yanire to take it. She obliged him, accepting the book and holding it awkwardly to her chest.
"Thank you."
Adriel nodded and turned on his heel, leaving her without any other word.