Work Text:
Just one more book.
Just one. More. Book.
One more book.
Just one more book…
Grian had no idea how long he'd been sitting on his small fishing pier this time. He only knew the sun was beating down on his head. Dimly, he thought of the hat he'd left hanging in the vertical mine.
Too far. Not enough string on the rod. Couldn't go that far, not with the hook in the water. Too far. He was fishing. It could wait.
Now an expert at the craft, Grian yanked the hook back ashore the second he felt a tug on the line.
Salmon.
He tossed the hook back out into the river delta, propping his head on his hand. Grian stared at the water.
I forgot my hat.
He didn't move. The hook was in the water again.
Grian watched the water’s gentle waves ebb and flow, ebb and flow, and noted how the light bounced off the surface. The water wasn't particularly choppy, and acted like something of a mirror, if a smidge wobbly.
Ebb and flow. Hat too far. One more book.
Grian’s gaze slid from the deeper water his hook rested in to the bits closer to the shoreline, where the water couldn't seem to decide whether it wanted to be see-through or not.
At first, the sunlight flared, showing Grian only sky. Then, the water ebbed, and he could see the cloying muck that made up the riverbed.
Flick. Once again, the water mirrored the sun.
Flick. A window to the mud.
Flick.
Grian leaned closer, and found his own reflection looking back at him.
When the water shifted again, he was faced with muck.
Mirror, window. Flick. Ebb and flow. Hat too far. One more book.
Mirror, window, mirror…
The line tugged, snapping Grian back to attention to yank the hook out.
Cod.
He threw the hook out again, forgetting to remember the hat he forgot.
The more he watched, the more Grian fell into the rhythm of the waves. To and fro, they swept across the surface, giving his bobber its namesake. Up and down, up and down.
His small fishing area was decently shallow. Now that he was looking closer, he realized he could see the riverbed below his hook, as well. His eyes rested on a spot just behind his bobber, which took turns between blocking his view and floating just above, following the melody of the river.
Up and down. Mirror, window. Flick. Ebb and flow. Hat too far. One more book.
His rod nearly flew out of his hand at the strong pull of what turned out to be a very wiley lilypad.
Grian threw his hook and then the lilypad out onto the water’s surface. The lilypad made a broken series of ripples, thrumming along to the beat of the waves. The place where his string met the reel ticked each time the bobber fell down in the waves. It almost sounded like a clock, he thought. Tick, tick, tick…
He watched the space under the bobber again, the mud seeming to take a familiar shape.
The mud must miss him.
Tick, tick, tick. Up and down. Mirror, window. Flick. Ebb and flow. Hat too far. One more book.
Just one more book.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
One more book.
“G-train!”
Grian blinked and sat up straighter - he hadn't realized he'd been slumped toward the water.
“Skizz?”
Grian turned to see Skizz standing at the other end of the pier.
“Hey man! Fishing hard or hardly fishing?”
“Aw, you know the answer to that one.” As if on cue, the line was pulled taut, and Grian reeled in another cod.
“Any luck yet?” The lack of a mending book was famous around Magic Mountain.
“Nope.” Grian popped the ‘p’ sound. “I'm on over three thousand fish now. You'd think one should've turned up by now.”
“Three thousand? Dude, the ocean is teasing you!” Skizz walked to Grian’s end of the pier and looked to the water with an incredulous expression. “You definitely should have one by now, those odds are crazy.”
Grian hummed in agreement, lightly tossing the bobber back into the water.
“Anyway, water stupidness aside, d'you want to help me pull a prank on Impulse later?”
Grian grinned to the river. “You had me at prank.”
Skizz clapped a hand on Grian's shoulder with a little more force than necessary. “Alright! I have a bit of setting up to do, then I'll come on back over here to fill you in on the plan. Sound good?”
“Works for me!” Grian looked up to Skizz, gently patting the hand on his shoulder. “You know where to find me.”
Skizz rolled his eyes with a giggle. “Fishing, fishing, fishing! You've got a problem, dude, but I can't even blame you.”
Grian laughed at that, turning back to the water. “If it would just give me one I could quit, but it refuses!”
Skizz sighed, stepping away. “Best of luck, G. I'll be back in a bit!”
“Bye, Skizz!” Grian called over his shoulder as he pulled the line once more.
Pufferfish.
He groaned, and threw the hook in yet again.
His gaze trailed back to the shallow bits in the water, nearest the pier. He could reach it with his hand easily, if he so wished.
Gradually, like sand slipping through an hourglass, his thoughts dwindled from Imp and Skizz back into just the waves that lapped the supports of the pier. If he'd thought to check, he'd notice his breathing had adopted the rhythm the waves set.
A bit of seagrass danced in the waves, fluttering gracefully in the muck.
Flutter. Tick, tick, tick. Up and down. Mirror, window. Flick. Ebb and flow. Hat too far. One more book.
His eyes lost focus on the seagrass and instead traced the surface once more.
The glass flickered into mud, then back again, yet Grian found himself having trouble noticing where his reflection ended and the mud began.
To an onlooker, he seemed lost in thought.
To him, he was but a patch of clay in the riverbed. Perhaps his rod was the seagrass, fluttering.
One more book.
The phrase was dim in his mind, drowned out by the ocean itself.
Flutter. Tick, tick, tick. Up and down. Mirror, window. Flick. Ebb and flow. Hat too far.
One more book.
If the line tugged, he didn't notice.
He and the mud were so alike, submerged in the ocean without any power to stop it.
Drowning.
The water almost vanished to him, so used to its presence he was. It was simply a slow fade between two factors he couldn't pick apart.
When did the mud get eyes?
Blink. Flutter. Tick, tick, tick. Up and down. Mirror, window. Flick. Ebb and flow. Hat too far.
“It's all set, G!”
Grian jumped so much he thumped his foot painfully against the bit of the support that poked out the top of the pier.
“Skizz! Nearly scared me half to death!”
Skizz, meanwhile, was bent over laughing.
“I am- I am so sorry! Oh my gosh, you jumped seven feet in the air, dude!”
Grian stood and pulled the line out of the water with an air of finality.
“Ha ha, very funny. Save the scares for Impulse!” There was just enough lilt in his tone for Skizz to know he was kidding around.
“If you say so!” Skizz hooked an arm around Grian's elbow.
Grian dropped his rod onto the pier, and noticed a bit of mud under his fingernails.
Giving a fake curtsy, Grian lightly held onto Skizz’s bicep.
“Can we go grab my hat first?”