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fandomweekly2025-12-12 08:10 pm
badly_knitted) wrote in fandomweekly2025-12-12 08:10 pm
Entry tags:
[#283] Charade (The Fantastic Journey)
Theme Prompt: #283 – First Impressions
Title: Charade
Fandom: The Fantastic Journey
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 1000
Summary: First impressions are not always accurate, sometimes people aren’t at all the way they first appear.
First impressions mattered, but they weren’t necessarily accurate; sometimes they could be a bit misleading. Dr Paul Jordan wasn’t at all sure who’d made the worst impression here, although Fred was probably a leading contender, wading in swinging the way he had. He could be impulsive, but perhaps he’d been justified in thinking the worst. After everything they’d been through with the shipwreck, and the deaths of three of their number, everyone was a bit on edge, and seeing a stranger standing over Ben like that…
It was perhaps to be expected that Fred had jumped to the wrong conclusion and thought their new Arawak native acquaintance had been about to harm old Ben in some way, although that had turned out not to be the case at all. Ben was much better, the pain from his broken arm gone, as was his fever. More than that, it seemed as though Ben’s arm was completely healed, something to do with the curious device the Arawak had been pointing at him. What WAS that? Paul had never seen anything like it.
He'd never seen a man like this native either, a little taller than Paul himself, lean and long-legged, with long, straight black hair, he certainly looked the way a native Arawak tribesman was supposed to, at least according to the available information, since the Caribbean natives were supposed to be long dead. Dressed authentically too, if you could call it that considering how little the man was wearing. But were Arawak natives supposed to have such piercing blue eyes. Well, interbreeding with people from other lands… That sort of thing had happened to a lot of indigenous tribes throughout history. Why should the Arawaks be the exception?
The man was understandably wary of Paul and his group. Who wouldn’t be after getting punched in the face for helping, possibly even healing, an injured man? He was silent, watchful, but didn’t seem to be hostile, or to be carrying anything resembling a weapon. No knives, just that strange device.
When the rain started, the Arawak guided everyone to a cave, and remained with them even though he could have slipped away without anyone noticing while they were engrossed in the cave paintings. He simply crouched near the wall and continued to watch them. Paul had the strangest feeling that they were being evaluated and had, perhaps, passed some unknown test.
Then morning had come, their Arawak was gone, which wasn’t surprising; he’d no doubt decided he’d had enough of their company and gone back to his tribe sometime during the night. What WAS surprising was that Scott was also gone. Paul had thought his son wasn’t the kind to wander off without at least telling him. Scottie was thirteen, a smart and responsible kid who understood the dangers of going off by himself. He’d never wandered off alone on camping trips.
Worried, Paul and the others had split up into two groups and set off in search of the boy, shouting his name. This island was an unknown environment; anything could have happened to him, although it turned out that nothing had, at least nothing bad. He’d simply followed the Arawak, and as it turned out, everyone’s first impression of the tall man was rather far off the mark.
For a start, he could not only understand English, he spoke the language in the precise and cultured manner of a scholar. He claimed to be from earth’s future, and when he showed Paul and Eve the craft he’d been flying when he’d crashed on the island, Paul could only accept that as the truth.
Leaving his guests in the main part of the craft, and stepping into what was probably his bedroom, their host emerged a short while later, completely transformed, to the point that Paul almost couldn’t believe it was the same man. Gone were the loincloth and moccasins, the shell necklace, the long, straight, black hair. In their place were a smart suit of dark brown pants and matching high-necked tunic with a black collar, obviously some kind of formal wear. His hair was now short, brown, and curly. About the only things that hadn’t changed were those intelligent blue eyes, and the pouch at the man’s waist that held the device he’d used to heal Ben.
You never get a second chance to make a first impression, that was how the old saying went, but in this case it was wrong. Paul and Eve had to completely revise their initial impression of the man before them, throw out everything they’d assumed about him and basically start over as he served them wine and explained what he knew about the island.
Varian was a healer, a pacifist, a man from a time where war and countries no longer existed, where humans were a peaceful, productive, non-aggressive people. The whole charade of pretending to be of the local Arawak tribe had come about as a kind of self-defence, since his first encounter with people on the island hadn’t been pleasant.
Paul could understand that. Being taken prisoner and subjected to repeated floggings must have come as a shock to someone who’d never experienced such cruelty before. Once Varian had escaped and healed from his injuries, he’d adopted the Arawak disguise so that the English privateers wouldn’t recognise him as he roamed back and forth along the coast, looking for a more civilised group of people who might be less hostile towards him.
It was a clever idea, and it had proven successful, because Varian, having already survived for several months mostly by himself, knew a lot more about the island than Paul and his people did. He could be a valuable ally, now that he’d decided, from his own observations, that Paul and the others could be trusted. Their first meeting hadn’t been the most promising, but misunderstandings could be forgiven.
Now if they could just rescue Fred, Jill, and Ben from the privateers…
The End
It was perhaps to be expected that Fred had jumped to the wrong conclusion and thought their new Arawak native acquaintance had been about to harm old Ben in some way, although that had turned out not to be the case at all. Ben was much better, the pain from his broken arm gone, as was his fever. More than that, it seemed as though Ben’s arm was completely healed, something to do with the curious device the Arawak had been pointing at him. What WAS that? Paul had never seen anything like it.
He'd never seen a man like this native either, a little taller than Paul himself, lean and long-legged, with long, straight black hair, he certainly looked the way a native Arawak tribesman was supposed to, at least according to the available information, since the Caribbean natives were supposed to be long dead. Dressed authentically too, if you could call it that considering how little the man was wearing. But were Arawak natives supposed to have such piercing blue eyes. Well, interbreeding with people from other lands… That sort of thing had happened to a lot of indigenous tribes throughout history. Why should the Arawaks be the exception?
The man was understandably wary of Paul and his group. Who wouldn’t be after getting punched in the face for helping, possibly even healing, an injured man? He was silent, watchful, but didn’t seem to be hostile, or to be carrying anything resembling a weapon. No knives, just that strange device.
When the rain started, the Arawak guided everyone to a cave, and remained with them even though he could have slipped away without anyone noticing while they were engrossed in the cave paintings. He simply crouched near the wall and continued to watch them. Paul had the strangest feeling that they were being evaluated and had, perhaps, passed some unknown test.
Then morning had come, their Arawak was gone, which wasn’t surprising; he’d no doubt decided he’d had enough of their company and gone back to his tribe sometime during the night. What WAS surprising was that Scott was also gone. Paul had thought his son wasn’t the kind to wander off without at least telling him. Scottie was thirteen, a smart and responsible kid who understood the dangers of going off by himself. He’d never wandered off alone on camping trips.
Worried, Paul and the others had split up into two groups and set off in search of the boy, shouting his name. This island was an unknown environment; anything could have happened to him, although it turned out that nothing had, at least nothing bad. He’d simply followed the Arawak, and as it turned out, everyone’s first impression of the tall man was rather far off the mark.
For a start, he could not only understand English, he spoke the language in the precise and cultured manner of a scholar. He claimed to be from earth’s future, and when he showed Paul and Eve the craft he’d been flying when he’d crashed on the island, Paul could only accept that as the truth.
Leaving his guests in the main part of the craft, and stepping into what was probably his bedroom, their host emerged a short while later, completely transformed, to the point that Paul almost couldn’t believe it was the same man. Gone were the loincloth and moccasins, the shell necklace, the long, straight, black hair. In their place were a smart suit of dark brown pants and matching high-necked tunic with a black collar, obviously some kind of formal wear. His hair was now short, brown, and curly. About the only things that hadn’t changed were those intelligent blue eyes, and the pouch at the man’s waist that held the device he’d used to heal Ben.
You never get a second chance to make a first impression, that was how the old saying went, but in this case it was wrong. Paul and Eve had to completely revise their initial impression of the man before them, throw out everything they’d assumed about him and basically start over as he served them wine and explained what he knew about the island.
Varian was a healer, a pacifist, a man from a time where war and countries no longer existed, where humans were a peaceful, productive, non-aggressive people. The whole charade of pretending to be of the local Arawak tribe had come about as a kind of self-defence, since his first encounter with people on the island hadn’t been pleasant.
Paul could understand that. Being taken prisoner and subjected to repeated floggings must have come as a shock to someone who’d never experienced such cruelty before. Once Varian had escaped and healed from his injuries, he’d adopted the Arawak disguise so that the English privateers wouldn’t recognise him as he roamed back and forth along the coast, looking for a more civilised group of people who might be less hostile towards him.
It was a clever idea, and it had proven successful, because Varian, having already survived for several months mostly by himself, knew a lot more about the island than Paul and his people did. He could be a valuable ally, now that he’d decided, from his own observations, that Paul and the others could be trusted. Their first meeting hadn’t been the most promising, but misunderstandings could be forgiven.
Now if they could just rescue Fred, Jill, and Ben from the privateers…
The End