Tomorrow is another day.
AN: I haven't played Tree of Tranquility in quite a long time and I haven't finished the main story yet so there may be some inaccuracies. For those who haven't played the game yet there may be some minor spoilers, but this one shot takes place shortly after the arrival of the playable character so very little is revealed.
It was coming again, the dull ache slowly spreading from behind his eyes, and Gill knew that if he didn't stop reading soon it would turn into another full-blown migraine. It was already gone 11pm, and he hadn't eaten anything since the herb cookies Elli had quietly placed at his elbow hours ago as she was getting ready to leave the Town Hall and head home for the evening. He had a vague recollection of her mumbling some words of concern at the long hours he was spending at his desk – but, as usual when he was concentrating on his research, the words seemed to come at him from a distance, muffled, as if coming through the wooden walls of the adjoining room to the cosy library where had chosen to barricade himself more often than not these past few months. As if he were unintentionally eavesdropping on someone else's conversation, instead of being addressed directly.
Of course, he'd been annoyed at the interruption, as he always was, and had probably barked some curt, ungrateful reply to Elli's gentle words of concern – anything to cut short the conversation and get her to leave him in peace with his work. He was vaguely aware of the nagging feeling of guilt for the way he sometimes behaved towards other people – especially poor Elli who had to bear the brunt of his moods. He knew he ought to make more of an effort to be pleasant to her, particularly as she herself had chosen to come to Waffle Island, his island. With the way things were going, it probably wouldn't take much for her to decide to cut her losses and move back to Flower Bud Village – there was so little work for them to do at the Town Hall, they had sold hardly any land in years and the library was practically unused apart from his own desperate research. The bitter irony of having so much free time to spend reading and researching was not lost on him.
Gill closed his eyes gingerly, rubbed his temples, then heaved closed the enormous history book in front of him, a small cloud of dust rising from the worn pages. A weary sigh escaped him, and he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and exhaustion. He just didn't know what to do. The island was dying and he didn't know how to fix it. The crops almost always failed on the few farms there were left, the fishing boats hardly ever left port because of the unpredictable storms, and with trade practically non-existent the few remaining businesses on Waffle Island were only just surviving. There were no holiday-makers, and how could you possibly encourage newcomers to invest their time and money in the island in its current condition? To Gill it was all the more disheartening that he could remember only too well how prosperous the island had been when he was a child.
The island's famous rainbows had drawn visitors from afar, the Sundae Inn had been fully booked for months in advance, the seasonal festivals had been packed with crowds in their hundreds, his father the mayor had been well-respected amongst all the island communities in this little part of the world… the sheer variety of food, plants and animals….Gill slammed his fist down on the desk in anger – now you struggled to even get the most basic of seeds and equipment, damn it!
The problem was, he knew that there was no one else to blame really but the islanders themselves. Their success and prosperity had made them complacent, they had taken the island's wonders for granted, they had stopped caring for it, imagining in their arrogance that it would always provide for them. They had neglected their once beloved Harvest Goddess and the Mother Tree and it had died, and now the island was dying too. The island needed new life, but it seemed all but hopeless. If only they could somehow revive the precious Mother Tree, bring back the Harvest Sprites and their Goddess who had abandoned them, then he knew – no, somehow he just felt in his heart, his soul – that things could be good again. He knew it was crazy, a grown man putting his faith in fairy tales, but he knew the Sprites existed, he remembered talking to them as a child, and besides, what other options did they have?
But in all his research he hadn't found a way to bring them back, and all the other islanders were too busy with their day-to-day struggles to give it any thought, other than the fleeting feeling of despair and guilt whenever they passed one of the many dried and decaying roots of the Mother Tree that reached out across the whole island.
But there was one glimmer of hope, that new guy – Kevin or Keith or something. For some unknown reason the foolish lad had chosen to come to Waffle Island to start a new life, and Gill had even sold him a plot of farm land up near Caramel River, but he hadn't seen much of him since he'd arrived. The rumours were though that he worked hard, and that he was passionate and energetic, so maybe Gill's doubts and misgivings were unfounded? Maybe this newcomer was precisely was this island needed? Someone who hadn't yet fallen into the cynical depression typical of the others, like Ruth and Craig. Maybe Gill should drop by the new guy's house sometime and give him a little history lesson… maybe he could lend him one of the books on the legends of the island… maybe, together they could….
Gill stifled a yawn, rose stiffly from his chair, gathered his keys and made his way to the exit. As he locked the heavy door behind him, he paused to glance over at Darren's Tree on Waffle Square. No, he wasn't going to give up on the island, on his home, not yet. After all, tomorrow was another day.