Alice Munroe (ex_barebones985) wrote in the_colony, @ 2010-08-09 23:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | ^ week 18, alice munroe, meghan callahan, | alice and meg |
Week 18: Tuesday Evening
Characters Meg Callahan and Alice Munroe
Location: The Farmhouse living room
Summary: Meg has a small bout of insomnia and decides to spend it being productive. Alice has a small bout of nightmares and decides to spend it being nosy.
Late and night, and Meghan couldn’t sleep, as usual. The residual heat from the fireplaces kept the house at least comfortable. It was by that oily orange light that the blind woman had been sitting on the floor rug, leaned back against the sleeping lump of dog known as Sarge.
For at least two hours, she’d been there in her pajamas: her hair loose and long, curls swallowing thin shoulders and the star-burst of reddish scar tissue left there from her last life-threatening experience. Her eyelids were heavy over the vacant, cloudy stair that still caught the light of the fire when she faced it long enough to toss another log on, but stayed mostly aimed down at the unfolded fishing net splayed across her lap like a blanket. Long fingertips searched each knot, one by one, in successive order, tightening... retying... and otherwise patching the thing for her planned visit to the river in the morning.
The sound of footsteps coming down the hall caught her attention, though she didn’t show any sign of being roused. She tuned into the rhythm: light, direct. A woman, and not Bridget, by the lack of waddling. She shot a guess toward the approaching presence.
“Alice?”
“Have I ever mentioned how uncanny that is?” the petite brunette replied, settling on the couch and tucking her legs underneath her. She frowned, watching her work for a few moments in silence. “Can’t sleep?”
Meghan smiled mildly, clearly taking the ‘uncanny’ comment as a compliment--whether it was intended that way or not. She went back to the lazy, somewhat tedious work, tugging on a loose string she found in the weave. “What else is new.” It wasn’t something out of the ordinary for someone who’s hearing rivaled that of a German Shepard. Not to mention the fact that every attack she’d ever been under had been right after falling asleep.
Alice hummed in understanding, reaching across the couch to grab the blanket she often had wrapped around herself. Even with full pajamas on and a robe, she was still cold. Truthfully, the reason she was even awake was because she’d had another nightmare, but she didn’t want to share it with the other woman. Especially given the fact that she’d had a much more recent trauma.
“Any idea what time it is?” Meg asked with sleep in her voice, but it was still elusive. That was one thing that Meg often asked whenever she came up on someone in the group (or someone came up on her). Everyone living in that house was a cog in her ‘clock’.
“Elevenish,” Alice answered. She watched Meg’s skillful fingers, quietly impressed at how quick she worked. “You’d be a helluva basket weaver.”
“You’d think.” She chuckled lightly. “My mother was into that crafty stuff, but baskets were always my enemy.” And she had a few scars to prove it.
“Crafty stuff like what?” the younger woman asked, her interest piqued. Any little skill had its uses now, with the way things were.
“Little things she liked to sell at craft fairs and farmer’s markets. Knickknacks and decorations, pot holders, home-made potpourri... lace doilies.” She held up the net she was working on for emphasis on the last point.
Alice grinned. “I thought you lived in Chicago, not a nursing home.”
Meghan smirked deeply in Alice’s general direction. “You ever been to a craft fair? You know how much these old birds pay for a coaster woven from dried palm fronds?” She went back to the net, turning the slender fingers under a tangle to work it out. “My dad was a cop. We lived in Wheaton on my mom’s glue-gun and pipe-cleaner income.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Alice mused, chuckling a little. She pulled the blanket off and stood, going over to the wood pile next to the fireplace and pulling out a log. Since they were already up, it seemed silly not to warm it up a little. “I wonder what fish are still in the river.”
“My guess is there’s probably tons.” Meg pushed off of the slumbering Mastiff behind her, sitting straighter, since her ass had started to fall asleep. “Not many people fishing them out. They’ve had all summer to spawn.” Yes, the city girl was talking about the breeding habits of game fish. Oddly enough, she sensed Alice might give her crap for that too--or at least a look. “Dad liked to fish.”
“Hence the net-fixing,” Alice replied, opening the glass doors and carefully placing the log on the still-smoldering embers before returning to her spot. “I thought fish migrated?”
Meg shrugged a little. “Some do. I bet there’s lots of trout, though.”
“Can’t go wrong with trout,” Alice said, nodding. They still hadn’t built a proper smoker, but some with some jury-rigging they managed to get by with the barbecue grill still on the property. If they smoked up all the fish they caught, they’d have plenty of protein through the winter.
“I hear that.” Meg said, fighting a yawn as the long day slowly caught up to her. She caved to its gravity, and lifted the back of one hand to her lips. “Just gotta catch ’em first.” With the yawn attack over, she lifted the butt of her palm to her eyes, blinking away the natural layer of water that came with tiredness. “I’m heading there in the morning.”
On cue, Alice also yawned, then gave a good natured scowl. “When to when? I’ll come with, if you need a travel buddy.”
“Mm... probably sevenish to eight thirty, or however long it takes to freeze my tits off.” Alice snorted in response. Meg’s hands went back to inspecting the net: eyes of their own, as her useless ones blinked away tangled lashes. Hopefully the river wasn’t frozen.
“I could probably skip the inventory check for something like this, maybe sneak it in during my reading break.” Alice paused, frowning thoughtfully. “Unless you’d rather grab one of the kids or somethin’.”
“Pshh... Like they could sit still that long.” Her smirk was deep into the dimple in her right cheek, but still good natured. She certainly didn’t mind Alice’s company down by the river, or in any situation, really... though she could sense the subtle sense of something in her voice when she asked about the kids going instead of her.
“I could definitely use your help, though.” She could probably do it on her own, but what was the point if you had a willing helper. Plus, everyone knew Meg didn’t like being alone.
Alice nodded, despite the fact that she knew Meg couldn’t see her. It was a force of habit. “Yeah, sure. No problem. How much longer’ll that take? The net, I mean. It’s--” she checked her wrist watch “--getting on late.”
“Uhm...” One hand held onto the square of weave she had been checking while the other traced the length of the net that still lay off to the side. There wasn’t much: about a foot and a half. “..maybe twenty minutes?”
Alice hummed in answer. “I’m gonna head upstairs, then. I’ll make sure to pack breakfast for us when I wake up. See you in seven.”
Meg curled her legs closer to her body, folding them Indian style--her hands hadn’t missed a beat in their work. “Sounds good, just no more fruitcake please.” Too much of that particular horrid confection was going to result in some unpleasant indigestion issues. She flashed a smile toward Alice’s voice as the other woman headed for the hallway. “Sleep well.”