|Atticus lives in the (gloam) wrote in repose,|
@ 2019-08-21 23:06:00
|Entry tags:||*log, atticus mcvickers, mal reed|
[Dock: Atticus & Mal]
Who: Atticus and Mal
What: Who knows!
Where: The dock
Warnings/Rating: Probably fine
Wasn't often that Atticus was out on the lake at night, but the summer was coming to a close. Warm days would be gone soon, and he dreaded the days when the lake froze over and he could only go as far as the edge of his island home. Prison, some days. Today, thinking ahead, it was more of a prison.
So the high moon found him scruffy, smelling vaguely of barbecue, and out on one of his unimpressive aluminum boats. He'd made dinner, and he'd lit a fire on the island's sandy shore, and he'd set off. Fire was visible now, over there and crackling as Atticus left it behind, motor at a slow clip.
At the edge of the boat sat the tricyclindrical Steinmetz solid Janus had given him. Still hadn't managed to figure the puzzle out. Had been trying, but his area of expertise was books and letters, not complicated scientific puzzles. The solid sat beside Billy Joel on an old boombox. He had a cigarette between his fingers, the ember tip burning cherry on the dark night sky, and he bellied the small boat up to the edge of the dock, as close to humanity as he could come. Could hear some things from here. Voices at that house, a car beyond the trees, a couple walking along the sandy shore. Was nice. Almost made him feel like he was part of something. Knew he was becoming melancholy. Didn't like it, but wasn't quite sure what to do about it. Still needed to contact Janus about the deal they were making. Was second-guessing that too. Was just that kind of night.