Nathan Tarn (nathanofthelake) wrote in britannia_ny, @ 2009-08-13 23:06:00 |
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Current location: | Nate's Shop |
Current mood: | busy |
Current music: | Patty Griffin ~ Someone Else's Tomorrow |
Entry tags: | arthur, nathan tarn |
The Lady and the King (semi-closed RP)
Somewhere along the way, Nate had gotten into a routine. He really hadn't meant for it to happen. Honestly, when he'd rolled into Britannia's town limits, he'd fully planned on shaking the dust off his shoes as soon as physically possible. But some things had changed - Jim, for one, the most important part - and some hadn't - that feeling, that urge, was still there, still wouldn't let him go - and all that meant that Nathan found himself settling into a life here.
He had breakfast nearly every morning at the cafe, went for a walk or a run, depending on how many pancakes he'd had, and then opened up the shop by nine. Not a lot of customers yet, but that was all right. He didn't have much to sell. A few chairs, couple of end tables, a dozen carvings, all laid out and priced and turning over about as well as he could expect from a new business in a quiet town.
Today, though, he deviated from the norm he was just now getting used to. Today he got in his truck and started driving, following another one of those damn feelings. At least this time, he stayed inside the state lines.
The lake spread out in front of him, a smooth blue stone rounded by green. It was inevitable, somehow, that he'd wind up here. For some reason it was like coming home.
Stripping off his jeans and t-shirt, Nate left them in the cab of his truck. He dove into the water, feeling the cold snug around him like an embrace. For what felt like days, he just swam around, floated, dove, relearning someplace that already felt far too familiar.
He wound up at the far end, a finger of trees reaching down to touch the lake's shore. One tree in particular caught his eye. It was a huge oak, half of its roots exposed above the soil, drinking directly from the lake itself. The trunk, though, was split, both sides healthy but now separate.
Nathan stared, fascinated. The tree drew him closer; Nate could see the possibilities there, in the whorls and lines of the wood. He could see what the tree was meant to become.
It took him two hours to chop down one of the halves of the tree and split it up into lumber fitting to work with. He loaded up his truck and drove into town, shutting himself up in his shop immediately. Obsessed, he went to work, cutting down the rough lumber, sanding it until he found its natural shine, carving and finding the joints, the shape, the way all the pieces fit together.
The light inside the shop backlit him against his window; anyone passing on the street could see him, shirtless, gloves on, single-mindedly putting together what obviously was becoming a large, ornately carved round table.
((Specifically for Arthur, but anyone who might be passing by is welcome to stop, gawk, and/or come talk! I can't guarantee how conversational Nate'll be, but if you don't mind grunting, feel free.))