(no subject)

By the time the island goes back to normal, Ellen's realizing that she doesn't have many complaints to speak of. Her gift from the island had arrived shortly after the snow had disappeared, though the sudden arrival of an armoire filled with new clothes in her bedroom hadn't gone without some suspicion on her part. Only after talking about it with friends had she realized that this seemed to be a yearly happening, maybe the island's way of making it up to them for everything they'd been put through over the past year - and then she almost laughs at herself, for starting to consider the island as some sort of higher power, personifying it, though the other option (magic) sounds just as ridiculous, if not moreso.

She's grateful that the armoire arrived when it did. Everything inside is definitely not considered Victorian-era wear, more beach appropriate with a few nicer dresses mixed in for some of the parties she'll go to this year. She's had some luck with the clothes box - the little black dress, in particular, worked in her favor - but she's given up on finding anything designer since then.

She dons a sundress at the first available opportunity and steps out into warmth instead of winter chill, taking a deep breath of salty ocean air, and sets off down the beach to the dock she likes to sit out on, only a few minutes away from the hut she calls her own. It takes her a little while to reach the end of the dock once she starts walking, but after she gets there, she realizes she isn't alone.

"Matt," she murmurs, greeting the unexpected company by name before she crosses the space to stand next to him. "Hey."