I wanna go back down and lie beside the sea
The beach is alluring, with the way the waves touch against the wet sand and curl away again, and Melchior could sit on the sand and read or write until his skin baked for all he cared. It isn't like his oak tree, his old private place for thinking, but nothing ever will be, he's starting to think. The beach is just as good though, in a different way, and with thoughts of Moritz and pistols and school starting up he's eager for some fresh air, some time away from the hints of home that seem to always, inevitably, remind him of some tragedy.
Maybe it's good then that the beach isn't like his oak tree; it's something new and open and invigoratingly different, just like this whole Island. There's more promise, a fresh start, in the sand. There aren't any memories, any visions of tree nymphs or fairies or spring afternoons spent poring over Greek and trigonometry. He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head, knowing there's sand tangled up in his hair now and glad for it, for the feeling of grit and the sticky salt air on his skin. He takes a deep breath and smiles, gazing out into the ocean for a minute.
The tiny dog at his feet pulls away his attention, however; the little puppy he'd found in the snow the previous month seems to be doing very well now under Melchior's attentions. He gets down on his knees to waggle his fingers in the puppy's face, knocking him over onto his stomach and tickling along his body. The real reason, or at least the less personal reason he came out to the beach was to take Aeneas for a walk and to let him roam around the beach and play like puppies need to do sometimes. It doesn't occur to him that maybe Melchiors need to play sometimes too.
[[Back from Spain, feeling much better (aside from wanting to be back in Spain), and off hiatus! Come one, come all. ST/LT welcome. Meet Melchior and his NDPD puppy Aeneas. Title comes from Jimmy Buffett's "Tin Cup Chalice."]]
Maybe it's good then that the beach isn't like his oak tree; it's something new and open and invigoratingly different, just like this whole Island. There's more promise, a fresh start, in the sand. There aren't any memories, any visions of tree nymphs or fairies or spring afternoons spent poring over Greek and trigonometry. He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head, knowing there's sand tangled up in his hair now and glad for it, for the feeling of grit and the sticky salt air on his skin. He takes a deep breath and smiles, gazing out into the ocean for a minute.
The tiny dog at his feet pulls away his attention, however; the little puppy he'd found in the snow the previous month seems to be doing very well now under Melchior's attentions. He gets down on his knees to waggle his fingers in the puppy's face, knocking him over onto his stomach and tickling along his body. The real reason, or at least the less personal reason he came out to the beach was to take Aeneas for a walk and to let him roam around the beach and play like puppies need to do sometimes. It doesn't occur to him that maybe Melchiors need to play sometimes too.
[[Back from Spain, feeling much better (aside from wanting to be back in Spain), and off hiatus! Come one, come all. ST/LT welcome. Meet Melchior and his NDPD puppy Aeneas. Title comes from Jimmy Buffett's "Tin Cup Chalice."]]