It was yet another ordinary day in Goiky.
Whenever the hapless contestants of the Battle for Dream Island: The Power of Two weren't living in constant, never-ending dread, thinking about the fact that they're up for elimination, that they *could* become up for elimination, that the eliminated disappear into a world that is completely unknown to any of them, they were just... hanging out. Having fun. As best as they could, anyway. There wasn't really much to see or do out in the grasslands, besides just... *existing*. Existing is nice and all; Golf Ball once said that the primary objective for each and everyone, no matter how much they differ, is to maximize how much time they spend existing. It is the natural desire for any living being to want to live longer, since the alternative is death, and that's... *not* good. Even though it's something that can easily be reversed with the snap of one's fingers, or the push of a button, it's still something that many of them avoid, and some of them even actively campaign against. Everyone wants to live, and everyone is willing to do *whatever* it takes to stay alive, even if it means making somebody else dead in the process. But they also want that living to have *purpose*. For reasons unknown, perhaps as a cruel joke by the universe, it was decided that they just couldn't be content with just existence. They might be fine with it for a little while, sure, but *eventually* they'll grow tired of it. They naturally desire action, activity, *anything* to take their mind away from the fact that they don't really know the first thing about *anything*.
With the competition on its regular lull in-between episodes, that's what most of the contestants were doing at this very moment. Everyone was doing whatever they could in order to stave off the looming feeling of pain and suffering, to ignore the fact that they were hapless pawns in a game of chess so otherworldly, so alien, so inescapable. They'd lie down on the grass, they'd count to 2,763 in their head, they'd walk, they'd run, they'd sprint, they'd hop. If they were lucky, they could talk to others, hang out, play a few games, cause a bit of mischief. Or maybe, just *maybe*, they'd try and get their team together, get them to work as a single cohesive unit, make them better prepared to handle the next challenge.
Book and Price Tag were most certainly not doing that last thing. Leadership didn't really seem like their thing, *especially* for the former, after all she'd been through. The rest of Team 2 didn't seem all too equipped for the challenge either; Snowball wanted them to be The Strongest Team On Earth, but he didn't know how to actually get them to do so. He didn't really know much of anything, really. That gave them plenty of time to just... *exist*. To further deepen the bond they had, and to have a little bit of fun before they were all inevitably struck down by the punishing hand of fate.
After having had yet another fun afternoon of all sorts of activities, the two were sitting on a hilltop, looking down at everyone and everything they knew, watching them go about their business. With every other option on the list exhausted, with their energy expended after a day of fun, they would commence with the most reliable, most generic activity of all: conversation.
"...You ever think about the fact that our team is called 'Team 2'?" The marker of artificially-imposed value would ask the assemblage of pages. "Not really, no." The previously-mentioned assemblage would answer. "It isn't really all that important, in my opinion. A team is far, *far* more than just its name; it's about the people in it, how well they connect, how well they perform." She'd pause for a moment. "Now that I think about it, I think Team 2 is a good enough name. A bit generic, sure, but maybe that's a good thing; most team names, as you've probably seen, aren't really very... *good*." She'd sigh. "Before this, we were on a team called Just Not. Before *that*, I was on a team that was just..." She'd have a migraine just *thinking* about the nomenclature for that particular grouping of contestants. "Well?" Price Tag asked. "What was that one called?" Book rolled her eyes. "Let me just..." She'd start thumbing through her pages, looking for the specific one; once located, she'd open up, revealing that team's name that she had written out. If you didn't know what you were looking for, it just looked like a whole bunch of meaningless scribbles. "That's..." Taggy squinted to try and discern *anything* from all the nonsense, but nothing would be found. "Not a name." "Exactly." The volume replied. "That's why I think names aren't really all that important; it's the connections you have that matter."
