Alternate Battle for Dream Island

ABFDIA 12c: Shifty

Pin got up early today. *Quite* early.

She and Leafy talked rather frequently. Even when the Battle for Dream Island came and split them apart, made them focus on 2,763 other little things, they still pushed back; they'd meet in secret, whenever everyone else wasn't paying attention. Considering just how different, just how opposite, the two were in nature, it seems off at first glance that the two became so well-acquainted. But though they may differ quite a bit on quite a lot of things, they both agreed on that single idea: that everyone would be *much* better off if they all got along. That things would be infinitely better if everyone set aside their differences, their childish grudges, and just got to work for the greater good.

They may differ on how best to get to that point, sure, but it's the thought that counts.

She looked around as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Coiny slept like a log, snoring loudly. Taco was on lookout duty and ended up slumping onto the wall. She carefully got up from her makeshift bedding, tiptoeing across the cabin, and quietly slipped out the door.

Pin politely listened to everything Leafy had to say, of course. That's part of the formalities; you have to *tolerate* what people say, or else they get mad at you, and then things spiral downward from there. Deep down inside, however, she always thought that she had this naive, clueless view of the world. Being descended from nature, she grew up with the childish notion that everything exists in harmony with each other, that the rotten apples are just a little misguided, needing only a little nudge to get them back into shape. It tickled her pink whenever she remembered all her silly notions about the way things work, how out of touch with cold and cruel reality she was. The Battle for Dream Island made quick work of that, but still, it was fun to reminisce.

The pushpin counted the steps. One, two, a dozen, and a few more. She'd done all the calculations and investigations during the daylight hours. The perfect distance, where she was just out of earshot, but she could still see what everyone was up to.

But every once in a while, Leafy would come up with something... brilliant. Something that's genius. In-between all her talk of peace and love and all that nonsense, she'd manage to squeeze in some kernels of truth, some wisdom that'd catch her by surprise. It'd stick to her, remain powerful in her mind, and she'd ruminate on it for days to come. It was a sudden, unexpected gift. A little reminder that she wasn't alone in this indifferent, miserable world. A reminder that there are people out there that actually *get* her.

Pin took one more look around before getting to work; she'd grasp the satchel (she'd been wearing it the whole time, don't ask) with both hands, opening it up and peering at the contents. Inside was a bunch of little things Leafy had gathered up just for her, a variety of tools and such that could help her on a rainy day.

Now was around that time, she reckoned.

Knowing the people around you is an integral part of strategy, that isn't being denied. Knowing the feelings and thoughts of everyone, whether or not they're plotting to bring you down or follow you to victory, that's an important step towards any effective moves in leadership. But just as important to that is everything else surrounding the people: the environment.

The thumbtack had been working with some form of the theory for some time now, but it only clicked when Leafy explained it so thoroughly. The environment is the canvas, the scene in which all actions take place... and are governed. What does and does not exist in the area dictates the whims of the people: what they wanna do, when and where, on who, why, and how.

The grassy fields are as empty and barren as anywhere can possibly be, nothing around but the vast green sea. It was a blank slate, a clean sheet of paper, fit for anything and everything they wanted to do. The air was thick with an oppressive smog of sheer boredom; there was nothing to do there but talk, walk, and cause mischief. It was the perfect engine to perpetuate the cycle of stillness and apathy. So long as they had no reason whatsoever to do *literally* anything else, so long as there was always something to complain about, there'd never be any order from this chaos.