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OOM: By the inlet.
Nov. 6th, 2007 01:23 amIt's late. Later than he'd normally be up and moving around but tonight he can't sleep, he's not quite sure why but it's just something that he can't make himself do. The firewhiskey from earlier with Ginny he thought might help but it didn't, instead it just made him feel strange inside until the alcohol wore off. He went upstairs and tried to sleep but all that did was cause him to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, so he grabs his coat and his blanket out of his pack, as well as a notebook and pen he got from Bar before she ran off and Mike got trapped inside and then headed downstairs.
Someone manages to give him a cup of coffee (because if he's not going to sleep why not drink coffee) and it's in a styrofoam cup with plastic lid and he eyes it for a moment before he wanders outside, past the lake, and towards the little inlet where lake meets sea. The ship is gone, it was here before again but Jack is back (and probably doing things with Mike's body he does not want to think about) so at least that's good. There's a bit of a breeze off the water but the air smells sweet, and he settles on the sand with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and sits in the dark. The moon isn't full, but a slim cresent but it gives him just enough light to write what he wants to after he stares into the ocean and at the horizon for awhile, thinking about conversations with people he's had here.
The people he's met and the places he's been because of it, his friends and the trip to Sherwood forest and trees so green you could get lost in them and feel like you were invisible. The pen rests against blank page for a long, long time before he finally begins to write.
( This is the journal of Josiah Gordon Scurlock, better known here at Milliways as Doc. )
He closes the book and then he pulls his blanket tighter around him, the chill from the air creeping into his skin. He's still not tired enough to sleep, so instead, he sits and drinks lukewarm coffee and waits for the sun to reach the horizon's edge, for color to return to the world and warm the sand on which he sits, in hopes that it will warm his heart as well.
Someone manages to give him a cup of coffee (because if he's not going to sleep why not drink coffee) and it's in a styrofoam cup with plastic lid and he eyes it for a moment before he wanders outside, past the lake, and towards the little inlet where lake meets sea. The ship is gone, it was here before again but Jack is back (and probably doing things with Mike's body he does not want to think about) so at least that's good. There's a bit of a breeze off the water but the air smells sweet, and he settles on the sand with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and sits in the dark. The moon isn't full, but a slim cresent but it gives him just enough light to write what he wants to after he stares into the ocean and at the horizon for awhile, thinking about conversations with people he's had here.
The people he's met and the places he's been because of it, his friends and the trip to Sherwood forest and trees so green you could get lost in them and feel like you were invisible. The pen rests against blank page for a long, long time before he finally begins to write.
( This is the journal of Josiah Gordon Scurlock, better known here at Milliways as Doc. )
He closes the book and then he pulls his blanket tighter around him, the chill from the air creeping into his skin. He's still not tired enough to sleep, so instead, he sits and drinks lukewarm coffee and waits for the sun to reach the horizon's edge, for color to return to the world and warm the sand on which he sits, in hopes that it will warm his heart as well.
