The girl in the blue dress stood on the beach underneath the blue sky while blue water gently lapped at her small toes. But the water wasn't really blue – it was clear, right? But it certainly looked blue. And sometimes green if there was a big leafy thing hanging over it. The girl frowned and wondered for what must have been the millionth time why the water changed colours sometimes. And also what she should call the big leafy things. She hadn't decided yet.

Her face lit up suddenly and a laugh bubbled up from within her throat. Who cared, really? Why should she care about big leafy things, or loud annoying birds or changing colours when it was just her on this…this…place; whatever-you-call-it? She was free to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. As if to prove her point, she ran out into the shallows and splashed around, reveling in her childish ability to just be. Her dress bobbed around her slightly chubby knees and soon enough it was sticky with salt-water. But she loved the water, so it really didn't matter, right?

The girl in the blue dress played and giggled and swam in the shallows for a long time, never running out of energy. She squealed in delight as a large fish suddenly leapt out of the surf, scales shining red from the dying embers of the sun's rays. The girl finally noticed the passing of time and as the fish swam back home, so did she. The girl sloshed through the small waves and once she had reached the sand, skipped up the beach. Her small footprints preceded her.

She twirled and spun around in lazy circles, laughing dazedly at the beauty of her home. She actually lived here, she did! She paused as she realized that her feet had automatically brought her to her Thinking Rock – a small outcrop jutting out into the surf.

Now that she thought ('cause that's what the Thinking Rock is for, right?) about the day, it occurred to her that she had never seen that particular fish before. She wondered what she should call it.

She sighed in frustration. So many things needed names and she really shouldn't care, but she was just so curious and confused (especially today – now why was that?) and it was like that fish had come just to seek her out (why me?) and tell her that the big orange ball was leaving again (why does it do that anyway?) and it was like it called to her – but wait! What would it call her if fish could talk?

Hmm.

The girl in the blue dress frowned for the first time in a long time. What should she call herself?

Hmmm.

She was stumped. Because now that she really thought about it, something like her who could think and talk and actually, actually think properly probably deserved to have a name more than a fish or a big leafy thing.

Hmmmm.

Today was a strange day. The girl nodded and left it at that. She would go to sleep and spend the entire day tomorrow at the Thinking Rock to puzzle out this mystery. She yawned and did just that.

I I I

But the next morning, the girl in the blue dress was distracted by a pretty seashell and forgot to accomplish the second part of 'just that.'

I I I

Many, many days passed and nothing changed. Well. Not nothing, really. The chub had left the girl's fingers and knees and cheeks and toes leaving her to wonder where it had all gone. But the water still lapped and the fish still swum and the sun still shone. For that's what she had decided to call the big orange ball. The sun.

But that fish had never come back.

The girl smiled and shrugged. Oh well.

The smile slipped off her face and she resumed with the poking of a bug with a stick. It was quite fun, actually. The bug – when poked – would make a delightful little buzzing noise and hop away, only to be chased down and poked again.

She sighed suddenly and dropped the stick, bored. Which was strange – she thought – because she could remember the time when she could splash for hours in the water or collect seashells all day long or take long walks on the beach for what seemed like forever. Now…now she was restless. A lot. And it frightened her.

Instead of the chore of naming things, she was now left to wonder why there was so much water. It was everywhere, really. Was everything like this? Was her home it? If so then why was she the only one here?

Hmm. She shook her head vigorously and went to collect her food. As she was walking back, the girl was focusing so hard that she didn't pay attention to her feet and consequentially tripped over them.

"Ah!" The hollowed, halved brown-nuts that she had worked so hard to prepare tumbled out of her arms and rolled jerkily down the beach. All but one came to rest (thankfully) before reaching the surf. The girl picked herself up and ran to reach the lone brown-nut before it filled with water, which would spoil the meat.

But something stopped the girl in her tracks. The brown-but was dry – floating on the surface of the water and gently bobbing its way along the beach.

"Whoa…" She stared at it, flabbergasted. It didn't sink. It's not sinking!

She picked it up and gingerly placed it back onto the surface of the water, this time further out. It floated. Again.

She whooped hysterically at her newfound discovery and scooped up the brow-nut, curling it into her chest. Her grin spread and spread until her cheeks hurt. She couldn't believe it! She pivoted sharply in the water, wincing as the coarse granules bit into her feet and ran back to the beach.

She grabbed a sharp rock and carved two dots and a curved line underneath because it was all she could think of and she knew that's what her face felt like when she was happy. She grinned (See? See?) again and ran up onto the thinking rock, tossing the brown-nut into the water below. She gasped in horror when it landed sideways and immediately filled with water, but quickly jumped in after it to correct her mistake.

When it didn't go anywhere, she almost cried in frustration. It just bobbed there. And she stared at it stubbornly as if willing it to move with her mind.

"Oh!"

With newfound determination, she launched herself into the water again and proceeded to carry the brown-nut to the nearest current. She never really questioned how it was that she knew about the currents…she just knew. She also knew never to swim in them 'cause they were really strong and mean.

So she waded up towards the current and when she was chest deep, she tossed the brown-nut lightly in front of her. It landed right-way-up this time and the girl cheered as it was swiftly picked up by the current.

She backed up and ran (waded) back to the Thinking Rock to watch it go, go, go – to who knows where – away from here to…where? (Who?)

I I I

The pre-teen in the blue dress stood on the beach, eyes popping out of their sockets. There were things on the water! Far way… What were they? They were huge and big, and what, what, what? There were big flat things that flapped around and the bottoms looked like her brown-nut, but only much, much bigger. And they were moving! On the water! How were they doing that?

The pre-teen crouched down in her hiding place between two trees when she heard shouts coming from the things. Shouts…that must mean others! Others like her! What? How? Come here! She wanted to scream so badly, yell at the things that floated. She wanted them here! She was so, so curious.

She waited and waited, but the things passed by.

She stood there, mouth agape for a long time before collapsing in sheer shock. There was more than one. One she could maybe have handled, but fifteen? How…?

About twenty years passed since the viewing of her first float-y thing before the awkward little adolescent laid eyes on another one. But this time it was different. Very different. The float-y thing (there was only one this time) actually sailed directly to her island and into her solitary life.

The pre-teen was lying leisurely on the heated surface of an outcropping of rock when a strange noise cut through the air; a shrill whistle almost like a birdcall…but artificial.

What is that? She grudgingly lifted her head from its comfortable position. She had to stop herself from screeching in terror at the new float-y thing looming in the distance. Not a far away distance, but a close distance – a closer distance than ever!

She stared, hypnotized by the float-y thing – its spidery rope-y stuff, billowing white sheets and the strange flap-y thing…well, flapping above the biggest stick in the middle. It was red white and blue and it made a cross with diagonal lines and – and – it was actually headed here! She gasped at the delayed realization and scrambled off of the rock face, running, running, running away from these intruders. She wasn't ready to face these people yet!

She swatted at overhanging leafy-y things and expertly jumped over treacherous vines, not stopping until she had reached her cave which she dove into, vowing not to move until they had left.

She held true to her word. She stayed huddled in that cave – too afraid to speak, too afraid to move. Well, she only moved to 'use the jungle' when she was sure no one was around or to delve into her emergency stash of brown-nut-things at the back of the cave. She knew they'd come in handy.

After the third day, she heard rustling in the trees along with some fierce swearing. She squeezed herself into a little nook and peered out into the trees through a tiny crack in the wall. But it was too low to the ground for her to see his face. Only black buckled boots and the bottoms of crisp white pants.

"Absolute rubbish… I've been all over the bloody shop today and no colony as of yet. Stupid blighters sending me over to God only knows where… "

The unknown man's mumbling grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared into the trees.

She covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. What a strange way of talking…

The pre-teen finally emerged from her cave a week later, moving silently as a snake, hitching up her blue dress so it wouldn't drag on the forest floor. When she reached the beach and found no sign of the float-y thing, she heaved a great sigh and finally allowed her shoulders to relax.

Over the next hundred years, she learned to get used to the ships (yes, that's what they were) passing by. Well…not really. She had grown up knowing naught but herself and this island. She couldn't help but feel small and insignificant next to those massive inventions of wood and cloth. As the years wore on, the amount of ships grew and grew, but none ever thought to explore the little archipelago with the lone soul in the blue dress.

But that changed rather unexpectedly one seemingly normal day many years later.

AN - Mah Seychelles fic. Eventual pairings. I'm not going to say which because there are many. I took my time with this fic, actually researching this country and its origins after several French projects concerning it. :D Let's just say Seychelles has turned into a little obsessionof mine. Hope you like!

Footnotes - The fleet of 15 ships describes the fleet of Vasco de Gama and his voyage of 1502. He only spotted the islands, and he did not come ashore.
- Seychelles second encounter with ships takes place in 1609 when The Ascension of The British Empire was lost in a storm and eventually landed on the islands months after. Our Arthur came ashore solely for a chance to write a bit of him. :P