Feb. 16th, 2004

almost_russell: (Playing)
Russell walked from the park, his mind in turmoil. His initial joy at seeing his friend alive and well had faded as he realised that Beregond wasn’t human. He was a program, like Smith.

As soon as he hit the high street, he phoned Dan, and asked him to ship his stuff for him. Dan, being at a loose end, and curious as to where Russell had ended up, volunteered to drive his stuff straight over.

A few hours later, and they were hauling his gear up two flights of stairs.

“Russ, next time you move, find a ground floor flat!!”

Dan collapsed in the couch, as Russell went to get him a drink. He came back, and handed him a coke.

“So what’s so special about this place, then? I thought you’d be on the road for months.”

“Just seemed right, you know? Maybe it’s what I needed, somewhere to stay for a while, and it’s an interesting place. You wanna stay tonight, drive home tomorrow?”

Russell felt he had to offer after Dan had brought his stuff, but was hoping he would say no. He was itching to get his hands on his guitar again, and he needed to think long and hard about what he would do when he saw AI Beregond tomorrow.

“No, man, have to get back. Mandi would kill me if I spent another night with you, after last time!!”

“Yeah, okay.” Russell grinned at the memory, although he was pretty sure that it hadn’t all been his fault!

After Dan left, Russell took the boxes of clothes through into the bedroom, and stacked them. He could unpack later. He set up his amp and opened the hard guitar case that held the only possession he had that he could truly not live without. It felt so good in his hands. He plugged it into the amp, and ran his fingers up the neck. Moments later, it was back in tune, and his fingers were moving over the strings.

The chords and riffs of Fever Dog tore their way through the peaceful evening and deep in to his soul. God, he had missed this!! He was glad Rob was away for a few days, and he could really let loose.

He spent the rest of the evening playing. All his Stillwater tracks, some Zeppelin, some Van Halen, and he even made notes for a couple of new songs. Finally, tired but happy, music restored to his life, he gently put the guitar down.

He pulled a coke from the fridge, and his stash from the bedroom, and set to work. He rolled two joints, padding them out with tobacco so the effect would be considerably less than when he had smoked with Beregond in the past. He had no idea how AI Beregond would react to whatever he had synthesised, and wanted to keep at least some of his wits about him tomorrow.
almost_russell: (Playing)
The following day, Russell set of after breakfast towards his tree in the park to wait for AI Beregond. He had the joints in his jacket pocket, and a couple of beers in his backpack. He also had his acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder. When he got to the tree, he sat and picked at the strings, waiting, a little apprehensively, for Beregond to appear.


almost_russell: (Default)

September 2004

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