Camp Loki is currently closed. See you next summer!

Author Topic: sublime -- s.w.  (Read 159 times)

Jeremiah Smallweed

    (12/08/2018 at 18:29)
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the sun is setting
monday 11 july 1955


He had first discovered the sheer perfection of this particular moment in this particular place quite by accident on the second evening of his counsellor training at Camp Loki, having headed up here for a moment's peace away from the others.

Then, he'd watched as the sun had begun to sink slowly into the tops of the trees of the Shuddering Wood so far below him, and as Glasswater Creek had glittered with in the fading light, and as the entire camp had glowed with orange, pink, and purple. Now, he watched it all unfold again (as he had watched it several times since, sometimes with Virtue, sometimes with Camilla, more often than not, alone). He stood, hands shoved deep in his pockets, at the very edge of the cliff, his back to the path that led up to the peak.

He didn't miss the sound of footsteps breaking through the silence, nor the arrival of these same footsteps to the space just behind him.

"The view ain't bad, right?"
We'll take the car down the highways
We won't get fooled by the bad days
And all the money we took from the last one
Clean your bloody nose in the bathroom

Shirley Webb

    (12/09/2018 at 23:51)
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She didn't want to interrupt someone else's moment, but the colours drew her in none the less. The burnt orange of the late afternoon sky was visible even from the path. Very soon, she knew, the remaining patches of blue would deepen and turn pink. Though she'd been itching to look down from the cliff, she only ventured closer when Jeremiah spoke to her.

"It's beautiful," she admitted, knowing that the word was inadequate even as she said it. In truth, she had no words to accurately capture the scene in front of her, nor to explain how her skin just knew that the early evening would bring a breeze.

A few more steps took Shirley to the older boy's side. The dark green canopy of trees below them drew her eye, but only for a second. She'd soon see what lurked beneath those dark green crowns.

"Though it's a bit sad, too."

Jeremiah Smallweed

    (12/12/2018 at 22:10)
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It wasn't Virtue Hir or Camilla Carstairs that he was going to be sharing this sunset with, then, but instead Shirley Webb. He could not recall ever having spoken more than a handful of words to her, if that, for theirs were two paths that rarely crossed.

Still, if this -- her words that didn't quite manage to do justice to the scene, but were somehow enough because of, and not in spite of, their simplicity; and her subsequent silence -- was what she had to offer, he would take it, take her, in a heartbeat over the rest of the camp's rabble.

"Sad how?"

When he glanced across at her, only momentarily drawing his gaze from the glowing scene that continued to spread before them, it was with a mild sense of curiosity.
'Cause my baby, she's a real peach
Even when the night come crashin' down
Real peach, and the nighttime rolls away, alright
And we're comin' back to the demon-killin' work of love

Shirley Webb

    (12/26/2018 at 13:22)
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"Because all of this will be gone in less than a month," she muttered, shrugging.

Magic was still a mystery to her and whatever enchantment allowed Camp Loki to take new form each year seemed really complicated. However this magic had been spun, it was clear that this peak would disappear from her life as soon as she left the camp. The colours were vivid and beautiful, but she couldn't look at them without being reminded that all of this would fade in a matter of weeks.

"There'll be no visiting this spot over Christmas, or even in Spring. There's just this, nothing more."


Jeremiah Smallweed

    (01/09/2019 at 22:33)
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She was right, in a way. This was all temporary; it would be replaced next summer with different mountains, different rivers, different buildings. But underneath it all, Jeremiah Smallweed knew it would be the same Camp Loki it always was and had always been.

"Maybe. But that don't have to be a bad thing," he said, not because he was looking for an argument, but because he believed it.

"Like, it kind of makes it more special, bein' up here now, right? 'Cause we know we ain't never gonna get this," he gestured to the glowing scene before them, "--again."
I thought about you the other day
What the hell happened with you and me?
'Cause, oh, ain't no lovin' no more

Shirley Webb

    (01/12/2019 at 03:18)
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She studied his face as he spoke, following his gaze and gestures. It was interesting talking to somebody completely new. An affinity for pretty sunsets aside, they had very little in common, yet Shirley found herself easing into the moment.

"That's a lot of pressure for one sunset," she said finally. Perhaps the fact that it was the only sunset would make it more special, but how could she be sure if there weren't other colours or contours to compare it to?

Considering this, she took a breath.

Then,

"Do you think this view is a memory?"
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Jeremiah Smallweed

    (01/12/2019 at 12:15)
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It was difficult to tell whether she meant that the pressure was on the sunset to be the best that it could be, despite its transitory nature, or whether she meant that the pressure was on them to make it special and to give it value. Perhaps she meant neither, perhaps she meant both.

Perhaps it didn't matter which she meant, for he understood where she was coming from, and that was what counted, really.

"A memory?" Again, he could read this in two ways; again, both were equally plausible.

"What, you mean, like, it belonged to someone else before it was ours, and it only exists 'cause of them? Or, d'ya mean it's our memory? Like, one we're gonna keep."
We'll take the car down the highways
We won't get fooled by the bad days
And all the money we took from the last one
Clean your bloody nose in the bathroom

Shirley Webb

    (01/12/2019 at 16:09)
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"The former," she clarified.  The whole summer still stretched ahead of her, and some moments would be framed and re-framed in the year to come, while others would fade instantly. Whether or not this encounter would be tucked away for later perusal remained to be seen.

"I mean, I know this setting is from a book."

Though she hadn't read it herself, she knew at least one copy was in circulation at the camp.

"But some parts seem very personal, like someone is remembering rather than just making stuff up."

This view was one example, as was the descent into the gorge via the remnants of that stone bridge. Even the rocks to the side of Caldron pool had something akin to nostalgia clinging to them.
« Last Edit: 01/13/2019 at 03:02 by Shirley Webb »
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Jeremiah Smallweed

    (01/14/2019 at 21:52)
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She was right, he thought.

He recognised in the spread of the camp below, in the glint of the River Shribble snaking through the undergrowth as it caught the sun's final rays, a similar sort of feel to the one that was always present in the windows of the Conjuring and Summoning classroom and in Ella Galanis's office. And those, he knew for a fact, were certainly memories that belonged to the Ravenclaw head.

"I reckon you're right." This, with a nod, and a smile twitching as he glanced across at her. "Dunno who'd be behind 'em, though. Litchfield?" He shook his head even as he said it, "Feels more magical than that."

Like it was Camp Loki itself that this all belonged to, or else some great and ancient founder from hundreds of years before.
We'll take the car down the highways
We won't get fooled by the bad days
And all the money we took from the last one
Clean your bloody nose in the bathroom

Shirley Webb

    (01/17/2019 at 22:49)
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Charming as Director Litchfield was, he didn't seem like the nostalgic type. He obviously dabbled in something, but Shirley doubted that it was memories. Snacks seemed likely, as did naps.

She shook her head imperceptibly as Jeremiah suggested the name, then smiled slightly as he dismissed his own notion. He was right, this did feel more magical than that.

"Perhaps it's the way the camp underneath is mixing with the magic used to sustain the setting," she suggested, shrugging again. Maybe it even used a little bit of her own magic, and Jeremiah's. That would explain why things felt so hauntingly familiar, even if she knew for a fact she'd never been here before.

"I'm probably the last person to ask about magic, anyway," she added with a subtle smile. Not for the first time, she wished she had a better grasp of how exactly one could use magic to shape the world so perfectly.

"Pretty rubbish at it."
« Last Edit: 01/18/2019 at 13:41 by Shirley Webb »
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Jeremiah Smallweed

    (01/20/2019 at 01:11)
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She was right about this, too, he thought, about the camp mixing with the magic -- its own, but every single camper's own spark as well.

Or, even if she wasn't right -- and, really, he of all people hardly knew what it was that went into a magical endeavour so great as this one -- then it was the sort of thought that he wanted to be the right one.

"I wouldn't say you're the last person." A wry sort of smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "I reckon that title's mine."

Then, in a more serious tone, because it wasn't often that he found himself with someone who admitted to struggling in the same way that he did and nothing about her until now had suggested that she was like him, "S'hard for you, too? Magic, I mean."
You caught my attention, you were looking at me first
All that I can see's you waking up in my t-shirt
If you're not hooked on anything right now, I can be your vice

Shirley Webb

    (01/23/2019 at 21:32)
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It had been a throwaway comment, made in jest; the few words couldn't really do justice to the truth that lay beneath it. She hadn't meant it as anything more than self-effacing humour, yet Jeremiah's tone had grown so serious that she couldn't really deny the sentiment behind it. To laugh it off now, --with him asking so earnestly-- ,would not only be dishonest, but also cruel. Still, it took her a few moments more to find the words.

"Sometimes, yes. Very hard." 

She looked away from him, to where the deep orange arch dipped into the horizon, warming the water and trees beyond it with a final glow. Just like she'd predicted, the evening chill had gathered momentum and a slight breeze brushed her shoulders. The tip of her shoe connected with an imaginary rock before she continued.

"I mean, my memory's fine and sometimes I understand but when it comes to actually doing things it just becomes a mess."

The previous term had actually been worse than any other, mostly because she'd been looking forward to taking some new classes. The sense of anticipation, coupled with the novelty of being a little bit older, had made the disappointment sting even more.

"Have you heard anything about Transfiguration? From last term, I mean?"

As a rule, Shirley didn't really keep track of whom she shared classes with, but she was pretty sure Jeremiah hadn't been present for that particular embarrassment.
« Last Edit: Today at 00:22 by Shirley Webb »
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