Spencer Fitzcharles :: Richard Gansey III (safeaslife) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2018-04-16 18:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | aidan murphy, seth kane, spencer fitzcharles |
Who: Spencer Fitzcharles and Open
What: Predictably, his car breaks down
Where: Just outside Jackson, SC
When: Sunday, April 15th
There was something about warm April afternoons in the south that Fitz really liked. They were always best when he was cruising down the open road, his window lowered so he could rest his elbow out of it and feel the air whip through the car, tousling his hair. There was just such a sense of calm to it with the music turned low on his stereo, the life-beat of the car audible over everything. It was where he loved to be. Traveling from one place to another, searching. He was always searching. Maybe it was just a Gansey thing but even before Gansey had been a part of him his curiosity had gotten the better of him plenty of times. Getting Gansey had been a blessing. Before him, he hadn’t had a solid direction to travel in. He was set to go to college and get a degree in something impressive because that was what was expected of him. It hardly seemed like his life. Maybe it wasn’t.
Gansey though, Gansey was definite. He had ideas and passions and he followed them without question. He knew what was right, what he wanted to do. He was also aware of the expectations that others had of him, and he lived up to those as often as was needed, particularly when it came to his family but more than anything he knew himself. At least, he gave a good show of knowing himself. Perhaps some things had been hazy, or he’d dragged his feet a little, but he’d known that he would find the tomb of Glendower. He knew it deep in his bones. Fitz wanted that sort of certainty. Glendower was a thing from another life, not his and he had no real idea whether Glendower existed in the same way here. He couldn’t live the life that Gansey had, for a start he wasn’t in a boarding school with his best friends who were tantamount to everything. Fitz didn’t have friends in the same way. He did have plenty of people he was willing to call a friend, and they would certainly count him as a friend, but they didn't truly embody what it was to be his friend. It was partly his fault, he didn’t feel like anyone was worthy.
He did have the Pig though. She was faithful, even when she was not exactly the most reliable beast. The roar of her engine was a familiar hum in the background of his travels. He could hear when she wasn’t happy and started to grumble. He knew to let her rest when that happened. One time he hadn’t and the Pig had almost immediately stopped working in protest. It was a strange thing being held hostage by your own car, but he was used to it. If he hadn’t suspected this would be the case, Gansey would have warned him. The Camero was notoriously unreliable. He still loved it and the loud orange paint job. She was flashy in all the right ways.
He was currently driving toward Millett, SC which was barely more than a speck on the map. He was planning to check out a place called Little Hell Point which would involve a short trek through woods into Georgia, but he felt like there was some significance to the place, partially because it was just so out of the way, cut off from the rest of Georgia by the Savannah River. He liked taking the smaller roads to get places. Sure, they took more time, but they were always far more interesting. Two minutes outside of Jackson and a gust of wind blew through the car, briefly capturing the breath from his lungs. Fitz coughed and gasped, sucking in air like he'd been underwater until his chest burned and considered winding the window back up. That was until he noticed the raven feather that settled delicately on his dashboard. A second later it blew off into the footwell and the Pig unceremoniously decided that this was the best moment to stop completely. The engine coughed, spluttered and died. Something whined. Fitz put his foot on the brakes and pulled off the road as the car rolled to a stop. Great. Just what he needed.
Fitz dug into his pockets looking for a phone. It took him a moment, scrolling through Google, to find a garage he wanted to take it to, and then he was on the phone with his recovery firm. You didn’t casually drive the Pig around the country without a good recovery plan. Then, he popped the hood and prepared to have a look around. Neither he nor Gansey were complete experts at repairing cars, but by now the both of them had a fair amount of experience with the little niggles that Pig had. He might even be able to get it in a state that he could limp back into Jackson with it.