Author's Note: Not Gill/ Angela. Also, many thanks to my beta reader, Bizz.
Farmers are tenacious. Whether it was farmers in general, or just Angela, he couldn't really say.
Angela should have left when she found the island on the pamphlet bared few resemblances to the destitute island she found herself on. She should have sailed back after her second week, when she found her low-quality crops yielded precious little money and it would be a struggle to sustain herself and poor soil would ensure there was no hope in breaking the cycle. He couldn't fathom why she was still here; anyone with any semblance of sanity would have left under those conditions.
Angela defied reason.
Somehow, she had managed to scrounge up enough of her meagre funds and upgrade her shack. In another equally unlikely course of events, she had also managed to collect half of the fabled Harvest Sprite Quilt, an item that had supposedly been in his family for generations.
Gill hated her perseverance. How she, of all people, was so determined to revive the island. This outsider was the only one who supposedly had contact with the Harvest Goddess, could see the Harvest Sprites, and believed she could actually help the island.
Not that it mattered. He had been trying for many long years to revive the island, since the Mother Tree first began to wither to it's eventual death; presumably from neglect or simply the natural order all living organisms fall under. It made no difference who undertook the task, it was a fruitless effort.
Gill tapped his foot impatiently, making a soft click upon contact against the cobblestones in the square.
"The other half of the Harvest Sprite Quilt? ...I don't have it, if that's what you're thinking."
It was hard to study her face. The pale lights in Waffle Town Square did almost nil to illuminate anything at this time of night.
"Well, do you have any idea where it is then?" Angela sounded just a little bit irritated. Presumably because she'd have to continue searching elsewhere instead of just picking it up then and there. Slacker.
"...Why are you interested in the Harvest Sprite Quilt?" Judging by her previous actions she had some notion of reviving the island; that much was obvious. However, the Harvest Sprite Quilt was of the utmost importance and he had to be sure, without a doubt, that she was using it for the right reasons.
"I want to sell it." came her casual reply.
His jaw dropped, leaving his mouth agape. She had to be joking. Couldn't she see how serious this matter was?
"Relax. I'm kidding. The look on your face was priceless though!" She even had the audacity to giggle.
"That's a pretty bold thing to say. This isn't a joke, Angela." Gill deadpanned. The entire endeavour was quickly becoming a waste of time.
Angela flinched and wrung her hands together before finally clasping them at her back.
"I'm sorry. I'd really like to revive the island! I'm serious!" Angela said, somewhat sincerely.
He doubted that, but after a few seconds of deliberating he came to the conclusion that the present situation the island was stuck in couldn't get much worse.
"I really hope you are serious, Angela. This island means a lot to me. I haven't seen the Harvest Sprites or the quilt since I was a kid. I suspect the Harvest Sprites may have used the last of their power to hide the quilt around the time when the Mother Tree began to wither. Dale might know more about the Mother Tree and the quilt."
"Oh, so I need to go see Dale now? What a pain."
Gill sighed. Did the Harvest Goddess really send visions to that...thing? He was beginning to wonder.
Gill awoke to the sound of the door slamming that morning.
He had always been a light sleeper. Having grown up an only child and being raised by a single parent for the majority of his life, he was unaccustomed to foreign sounds echoing through his residence's relatively large hallway and was often roused into wakefulness by his father's morning antics.
It was Sunday; his only day off during a regular work week and no doubt Hamilton was keeping with his regular tradition of breakfast preparation for the both of them, or some such nonsense.
It took Gill a few moments to pick out the problem with that logic from his sleep muddled mind; which, needless to say, was a challenge in and of itself.
The sound was not the clatter of pots and pans. It was different and therefore demanded exploration.
With some struggle, Gill managed to edge himself from the comfort of his covers and placed his feet on the cold floor. His mind was slowly becoming more alert, but his body still felt like a weight.
Within a few seconds he had mentally wrestled his legs into moving and made his way down the small hallway that separated his room from his father's and rather abruptly came to a halt at the top of their stairway.
"...so ships should be able to sail to and from the island." a voice from downstairs sounded, unmistakeably feminine.
Gill couldn't pick out just who it belonged to; it sounded slightly distorted from his current perch at the top of the stairs. Just who would visit this early with the sole intent of conversing with his father? Or, rather, who in their right mind?
"Fabulous! Simply fabulous! I knew you could do it! But why come here so early to tell me?"
"Oh, um, I just thought you'd like to know Mr. Hamilton and, um, I really enjoy coming to see you!" the woman sounded enthusiastic, for some reason.
The sobering realization hit him hard. That voice could only belong to Angela.
What business could she possibly have here? At this hour?
"Oh, why, I do enjoy it when you visit too, my dear!"
"O-Oh, I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Hamilton! I'll, um, be leaving now though. I need to go finish watering my crops." Angela replied, nervously.
"Of course! Of course! Don't let me keep you now! You're welcome back any time."
The door slammed shut again and Gill tentatively walked back towards his room.
"Just what is that idiot planning?"