Apr 17, 2007 23:53
All in all, life was grand for Curt Wild.
To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all. But Curt, now Curt was more than living.
He was actually content with life. While Jaime's disappearance had been unsettling and had made him sullen and withdrawn for a few days, overall Curt was satisfied with life on the island. Brian and he were getting on, much better than Curt remembered them getting whence he came. There were a few people interested in playing music with them, which was a plus as the fucking island needed a little bit of good entertainment. And, if Curt were honest with himself, he just felt like he actually belonged, which was pretty fuckin' scary to think about.
Currently he was lounging in the sand, silver trousers like a second skin. His black shirt and platform boots were discarded beside him. Listening to the sounds of the ocean, he leaned back on his elbows, eyes closed as he drifted to that place in between sleep and awake.
[ST, but I was inspired and he's been elusive lately, so I thought I'd better seize the moment.]
curt wild,
duo maxwell,
neil mccormick,
ted schmidt