May 14th, 2010
The biggest thing Scotty missed these days, outside of the private, was his focus. It flitted and wavered and tended to scatter easily; he could almost feel himself trying to run in a hundred directions at once, and he could feel himself snap back to one place again. But it wasn't some temporal storm inside of his own skull.
It was just how life was, when you weren't sure what life was.
The day was beautiful, and he was sitting on the drydock at Lowe & d'Thalia, trying to keep his head together long enough to pen a letter. On one page of his sketchbook was a ship he was sort of designing, half a lark, half-seriously, and on the next was that letter, and he found himself alternating uncertainly between the two.
Dear Silas,
I was happy to see your appointment as Minister of Magic. I don't know if you've decided to still go ahead with our plan, but if you have,
He sighed a bit, and shook his head, and added a few lines to the bowsprit. The ship was a bit like a schooner, and a bit like something else. There was a distinctly Elven flare to her, a certain almost other-worldly gracefulness. That, he was sure, was thrown in for Maia.
then I'll still be here to help. If you need anything, you know where I am. And if I'm not at home, then you'll probably find me at the drydocks of Lowe & d'Thalia, on Eastern Drive, towards the northern side of the dockside and above the salvage yard.
The vessel on the paper above the letter was just as chaotic, then, as he felt. Some part classical Earth, some part Elven; a bit of the past, a bit of the present, and a bit of the future. She had a long-range antenna built into her mast, and split-dilithium batteries. She also had a plain old short-wave radio rig. She was made of wood, from keel to deck to masthead.
I know I've been a bit scattered of late, and I can't seem to figure out where I belong anymore, or how I belong. Despite this, I remain your friend. If you need me, I'm here.
It was a bit sappy. Both the Elven elements he incorporated into the design he was working on, because he knew how much the culture meant to Maia, and the letter to Silas. But somehow, Scotty managed not to go crossing those last lines out. It seemed unbearably open. He wondered why being open had always been so unbearable. He knew the answer, too. He wondered what direction it would go.
Take care, Silas. Be safe.
-Scotty
The biggest thing Scotty missed these days, outside of the private, was his focus. It flitted and wavered and tended to scatter easily; he could almost feel himself trying to run in a hundred directions at once, and he could feel himself snap back to one place again. But it wasn't some temporal storm inside of his own skull.
It was just how life was, when you weren't sure what life was.
The day was beautiful, and he was sitting on the drydock at Lowe & d'Thalia, trying to keep his head together long enough to pen a letter. On one page of his sketchbook was a ship he was sort of designing, half a lark, half-seriously, and on the next was that letter, and he found himself alternating uncertainly between the two.
Dear Silas,
I was happy to see your appointment as Minister of Magic. I don't know if you've decided to still go ahead with our plan, but if you have,
He sighed a bit, and shook his head, and added a few lines to the bowsprit. The ship was a bit like a schooner, and a bit like something else. There was a distinctly Elven flare to her, a certain almost other-worldly gracefulness. That, he was sure, was thrown in for Maia.
then I'll still be here to help. If you need anything, you know where I am. And if I'm not at home, then you'll probably find me at the drydocks of Lowe & d'Thalia, on Eastern Drive, towards the northern side of the dockside and above the salvage yard.
The vessel on the paper above the letter was just as chaotic, then, as he felt. Some part classical Earth, some part Elven; a bit of the past, a bit of the present, and a bit of the future. She had a long-range antenna built into her mast, and split-dilithium batteries. She also had a plain old short-wave radio rig. She was made of wood, from keel to deck to masthead.
I know I've been a bit scattered of late, and I can't seem to figure out where I belong anymore, or how I belong. Despite this, I remain your friend. If you need me, I'm here.
It was a bit sappy. Both the Elven elements he incorporated into the design he was working on, because he knew how much the culture meant to Maia, and the letter to Silas. But somehow, Scotty managed not to go crossing those last lines out. It seemed unbearably open. He wondered why being open had always been so unbearable. He knew the answer, too. He wondered what direction it would go.
Take care, Silas. Be safe.
-Scotty