entrancelogs | We'll search for tomorrow on every shore

Who: Buck and his intrepid band of adventurers
Where: The ocean and, eventually, the ~~mysterious~~ ~~fantasy~~ ~~Gilligan's~~ ~~Lost~~ island
When: Friday morning through Friday afternoon
Rating: PG to R for language?
Summary: Buck wants to sail away on the virgin sea and even if he has to take like five boats towed together to bring everybody with him, he is willing to do that because he is a gotdang hero. Also they find the island. (I will post threads for sections of the trip.)
The Story:

At five in the AM on Friday mornin', Buck is where he said he'd be. He's got three decent sized motor boats ready. To tell the truth, he didn't expect this much interest. But he figures it ain't right to leave people out if they do find a way out of this place, so he might as well be accomodatin'.

This also means that he's dealin' with the weather, if you can call it that. The fog on the ocean is still so thick it's difficult to see, and he figures they'd be better off if the boats are chained together. Might end up with one towin' the others by the end, but that didn't matter too much, right? As long as nobody got let behind it'd be alright.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Edited 2012-02-10 22:38 (UTC)

It was so early. Somehow being up at dawn with it still being icy cold wasn't something he was used to doing at all. The ocean seemed a little funny too, as if it was hiding from something.

Vivi, a little less nervous about the snow now, was crunching through it until he arrived at the beach. He was unsure about going on the actual water though... he'd been on an airship and the sky felt like it was going to jump up and swallow him in one gulp. ...Maybe the water was nicer.

Puck decided that the mansion was boring and there wasn't anything he wanted to do, other than playing his guitar for the ten thousandth time. So he went along with Buck and his little fishing venture.

He's got his pole dangling over the side of the boat, just chilling out. This isn't so bad after all.

Buck peeked over from his spot at the head of the boat. It was comforting to see the youth of tomorrow fishin' like proper men. "What kinda bait did you bring?"

Well, now he's caught. Puck doesn't know the first thing about fishing. It's not like he had a dad around to take him, anyway.

He shrugs, trying to act unabashed. "I dunno, I just got whatever I could find from the closet and brought it along."

What the fuck does that mean?

"So, what? Worms? Lures? Fuckin' bread?"

Never mind the fact that the fog is so thick there's no way to tell if there's any fish down there.

It means Puck's an idiot who doesn't know squat about fishing.

"Uh, how about fuckin' everything?" Puck says that cause it's kind of what he did. "Well, okay, I got mostly worms, but whatever."

"Worms're good." Buck spits over the side of the boat. "Wish I knew what kinda fish we're aimin' for, though."

"Yeah, I don't know. Guess we'll have to catch some and find out." Puck draws his line back in and casts it out again. "So you do this a lot, huh?"

"Not nearly enough. My, uh, old lady don't let me out all that often."

Buck reels his line in to check the bait. Not even a nibble.

"Your what?"

Puck plays with the handle on his fishing pole but doesn't reel in the line yet. "Your mom doesn't let you go fishing?"

That just seems weird.

Blink. Stare.

"Old lady don't mean 'mom', dumbass."

"Okay, so what do you mean?"

Not like he cares that much.

Okay this isn't totally true anyway but.

"Usually means you're lady lady."

"Uh-huh, whatever."

Puck has no idea what Buck's talking about, so he just shrugs and goes along with it.

And then they fished in silence for hours.

Like men.

Buck is a pretty good navigator, on most days, he'd say. He ain't no lady, anyway. So when it's clear that nothin' is clear and there's fog so thick you can't spit without hittin' it, not to mention no chance of seein' the sky, well. He's pretty sure of one thing.

"Well, we're fucked."

He pulls out a cigarette.

"Smoke 'em if you got 'em."

They've been sailin' for about five hours now, and Buck's sure he's gonna have a mutiny on his hands if he doesn't get them back. No fishin' trip should last so long that people start wonderin' if you're lost. Even if you've already admitted that you're fuckin' lost.

So it's just dumb luck that they end up coming to a lurching stop in some sand all of a sudden. The fog ain't so thick suddenly, now that they've hit land, and Buck hops up to check things out.

This ain't the beach by the mansion.

This ain't exactly land either. Island or otherwise.

It's like...pieces are fuckin' missing. Not like they got torn away or anythin', no, they're just. Gone. Like a Jenga tower midway through the game. The land is like some kinda polka-dot bullshit, and it's too close together to be one of those archie things.

Buck tries to think of an eloquent way to put this.

"The fuck?"

We'll search for tomorrow on every shore

Prep

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Sailin' and fishin'

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Gettin' lost in the fog

Landfall