♞ 001 | Erik Lehnsherr | Day 48 ♞

[violenthearted]

[ Good morning, Losties Kore....ites, or whatever you are, please accept a video, featuring Erik's ever-present displeasure with his communicator. He has figured out how to work it by now, but this does not mean he likes it any better. B| Behind him, in the slices provided by the small screen, appears to be a kitchen, because that is exactly where he is. God forbid he sit in the living room or anywhere like, comfortable. So kitchen table it is. Charles is probably around somewhere, puttering, being British, but for the moment Erik appears to be alone.

And he has questions. Many questions.]

For those of you who failed to witness the catastrophe that was my arrival here, I'm Erik Lehnsherr. If that name means nothing to you, so much the better. If you think you have some idea of who I am - and I have come across those who do - let me state again for the record that I continue not to be a doctor of any kind, nor do I have any interest in adopting a moniker invented by bored adolescents.

That said. I'm looking for information on what appears to be an ever dwindling food supply. I understand you are provided with sustenance from the sky, but frankly I'm suspicious of quail. At best.

[It's a joke, see, because wandering forty years in the desert and bitching about manna and stuff--never mind.]

Has anyone looked into what might be done on our own terms? Anyone hunting, fishing, looking into the feasibility of farming? If someone's already taken that task on what I can only assume to be very level shoulders, I'd like to meet you. And if not, I'd like to be that person. Not - [he shrugs, loosely] that you're obliged to put your faith in a stranger. But I dislike idle hands, particularly when they're mine.

(ooc: this is forward-dated to the morning of day 48, in case that was not clear. :3 all replies will be video.)

Comments

[manofiron]

[ He flashes a smile and tips his head in a careless shrug. ]

Side project. Keeps me busy while I work on the larger issues. If you're hunting, try not to kill too many of them.

[violenthearted]

[Erik does his own sparely efficient version of 'chinhands,' which involves just the one hand and, you know, fair less beatific beaming.]

That's either quite the vote of confidence or intense dedication to sarcasm. Either way I'll see what I can do.

[manofiron]

You mean you don't kill sabertooth cats in your spare time? I thought everybody did.

[ He smiles, a little lopsided smirky affair. ]

Sorry. Inside joke. Although now that you've joined the circus, you get to be a part of it too.

[violenthearted]

And here I'd been using mine to read. [J/K, Erik doesn't have spare time. He's been here for like 30 hours and already the idle time is killing him--hence this post, plus a genuine interest in lack of malnutrition and or starvation. It's a joke, though, although his own smile - much like his humor in general - skews a little darker than Tony's.]

Lucky for all of us that I'm adaptable, then.

[manofiron]

It's a small library and I've been here too long. We don't really get new books.

[ Also a joke, but it's the truth, too. He's spent far too much time in the library, combing through all of the books he could find. ]

Or get to know the ringmaster. Sorry. He, she, or they, I think we're leaning toward they, seem to prefer anonymity for this freakshow. But adaptability helps. Especially if it means you don't freak out and start killing people when they start drugging us again. Or die from lack of food. Or get scurvy. No one wants scurvy.