Nathan Tarn (nathanofthelake) wrote in britannia_ny, @ 2009-08-09 19:45:00 |
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Current location: | Main Street |
Current mood: | tired |
Current music: | Exile ~ Kate Rusby |
Entry tags: | .npc: town, florence sanford, jim brown, laurel ogilvie, nathan tarn |
Coming Home (open RP)
The town was bigger than he'd expected.
Well, that wasn't quite right. Truth be told, Nathan wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He'd never been to New York before, never really been out of the Midwest, and he certainly hadn't expected to wake up from a dream one night, load up his rusty blue pickup, and find himself bleary eyed, heading down I90. Before he'd even really woken up properly, he'd been across the Ohio state line with a tarp, covering all of his possessions on the bed of the truck, flapping in the wind.
The dreams had started about a year ago. Every night, seemed like, he'd wake up, heart thundering so hard he was sure it was out of his chest. Arm stretched out, grasping for someone who wasn't there, and lips forming words - names, places, things he didn't recognize. Sometimes he was shaking, sometimes the taste of blood was in his mouth, the coppery tang of it saturating his skin. And water. There was always water. Sometimes he bolted upright, near sick with grief, with fear, with worry. Over what, he couldn't remember.
Didn't want to remember.
Since he was little, Nathan'd always been good with his hands. Building stuff, seeing how it went together, knowing just what pieces to slide into place, what needed to go where - he had an instinct, his dad said. A sixth sense. Lately, though, he'd had that same sense when it came to people. Nathan would just...know. He'd have an impulse to go a certain way, to talk to a certain person. Things about them, about their potential, would bubble up into his mind and Nate couldn't help but act on them.
Between that and the dreams, he was pretty sure he was going nuts.
Scratch that. He was definitely going nuts. Dumping everything you own into the back of a truck in the middle of the night and driving with no clear destination in mind? That was goddamn certifiable in anyone's book.
When he hit the town limits, Nathan pulled off to the side. The door creaked as he pushed it open, shoving a hand through his hair and standing on the gravel shoulder of the road, staring ahead.
This was it. This was where he'd been driving to.
Now if only he knew why.
Sighing, Nate clambered back into the truck. No sense standing around gaping. Whatever had driven him here - lead him here - it wasn't going to pop out with a cup of coffee and an explanation. The first, he'd have to find himself. The latter...
Well. Hopefully the latter would turn up before the men in the white coats did.
Parking on what he guessed was the main drag of town, Nate shuffled out of the truck, stretching out all the kinks that nearly twenty hours of driving would do to a body. Scrubbing fingers through short, blonde hair, Nathan let his grey eyes rove up and down the street. He ran his hand across his face and grimaced. He needed a shave. And a shower. A place to stay, until he could figure out what he was doing long term.
First of all, though, he needed coffee. Ambling down the street, he set off to find just that. Hopefully, there was some sort of diner in this town.