storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-01-07 02:44 pm
storypaint) wrote2009-01-07 02:44 pm
Look to the Past (Layton gen)
Title: Look to the Past
Length: 819 words
Prompt: Professor Layton (Anon) Fan Meme: BFF Layton and Lincoln.
Pairing: Layton and Lincoln gen
Other: history-mangling?
Excerpt: The man climbed to his feet, brushing off his knees a little bit, and adjusting his own top hat. It wasn't quite as tall as Lincoln's, but it was well-kept, and Lincoln ran his thumb along the edge of his own in acknowledgment.
It was unsurprising really, that a curious senator from Illinois would have interest in archaeology. He worked in a discipline steeped in history, in a state named after the Indians that once worked the land. Lincoln was a quiet man, but he was thoughtful. He took his education where he could find it.
It was rare that the senator took a break from his duties. His father had taught him to work hard on the land and Lincoln applied the ideas to his political career, but every man who was once a farmboy knew the simple pleasure in walking down an old dirt road, lost in thought. He was no exception. The wind was low, the dust was bearable, and the heat wasn't so bad, either. It was one of those days that you could walk for miles, and Lincoln intended to.
Initially, that is, until he came upon the man crouched in the dust not far off the side of the road. He had noted first that the land here was barren, which he found unusual. That there was a person digging around in it on his hands and knees, ruining his suit, was even more unusual. The man had a shovel at his side, and some small brushes, but he didn't look harmful, engrossed in his work. He didn't look up until the senator was looming over him, casting a shadow in the small hole he was digging.
"Hello," Lincoln said comfortably.
"Hello," the man replied, looking up (and up and up) at the tall man dressed all in black.
"What's going on, stranger?"
The man climbed to his feet, brushing off his knees a little bit, and adjusting his own top hat. It wasn't quite as tall as Lincoln's, but it was well-kept, and Lincoln ran his thumb along the edge of his own in acknowledgment.
"Professor Layton," the stranger said, offering a hand. The senator's grip was firm and warm.
"Abraham Lincoln," said the senator likewise. "What are you digging for out here in the middle of nowhere?"
"Well, I was down in the town earlier this month and someone mentioned finding arrowheads in this area, so I asked if I could take a look around. Archaeology is a passion of mine," he replied cheerfully. "I like old things."
"Find anything interesting?" the senator said, crouching down himself to run his fingers through the disturbed soil. Even crouching, he made Layton feel short. He leaned down into the dirt again and pulled out an arrowhead that Lincoln had half-submerged, handing it to the senator.
"Kaskaskian, I think," he said, "judging by the edging on it. Probably not too old, though the one that they showed me in town seemed pretty ancient."
Lincoln ran a finger across the stone edge gently, looking thoughtful.
"They're only half a century gone from here," he said.
The professor looked surprised for a moment, but then his enthusiasm for his craft overwhelmed that. "Oh, yes, but they were here when the French arrives in the 1770s," he told Lincoln. "The Illiniweks, the 'people who spoke in a normal way.'" He shrugged. "A lot of tribes have names that translate basically to 'human beings.'"
"I see," Lincoln said, sinking down in a more comfortable position in the dirt. "And what were they like?"
The wind was low, the dust was bearable, and the heat wasn't so bad, either. There was always time for a story, time to learn something new from a knowledgeable stranger. When the light began to grow low, Lincoln invited his new friend home for dinner, and to show him a couple of old trade goods that he'd dug out of his backyard when building the well. Layton was glad for the company. His apprentice had chosen to stay behind in town for the day and watch his father at the smithy. It had been a little lonely out there in the dirt alone.
The two top-hatted men walked off into the twilight, talking, joking, laughing, holding discourse on any number of topics. Layton stayed the evening with the Lincolns and left early the next morning with several suggestions for further excavation sites.
*
He didn't put two and two together for a long while, until the presidential candidates were traveling across the country, debating, and even a professor focused on the past was forced to stand up and notice. He went to one of the debates, standing close to the back, but that profile was unmistakable. He almost wanted to approach Lincoln afterward, but he felt awkward, somehow. The man was a politician. That wasn't really Layton's social circle.
When Lincoln was done talking and the applause rose, Layton tipped his hat to the man and strode away, hands in his pockets.
At least he knew who he'd be voting for, come election time.
Length: 819 words
Prompt: Professor Layton (Anon) Fan Meme: BFF Layton and Lincoln.
Pairing: Layton and Lincoln gen
Other: history-mangling?
Excerpt: The man climbed to his feet, brushing off his knees a little bit, and adjusting his own top hat. It wasn't quite as tall as Lincoln's, but it was well-kept, and Lincoln ran his thumb along the edge of his own in acknowledgment.
It was unsurprising really, that a curious senator from Illinois would have interest in archaeology. He worked in a discipline steeped in history, in a state named after the Indians that once worked the land. Lincoln was a quiet man, but he was thoughtful. He took his education where he could find it.
It was rare that the senator took a break from his duties. His father had taught him to work hard on the land and Lincoln applied the ideas to his political career, but every man who was once a farmboy knew the simple pleasure in walking down an old dirt road, lost in thought. He was no exception. The wind was low, the dust was bearable, and the heat wasn't so bad, either. It was one of those days that you could walk for miles, and Lincoln intended to.
Initially, that is, until he came upon the man crouched in the dust not far off the side of the road. He had noted first that the land here was barren, which he found unusual. That there was a person digging around in it on his hands and knees, ruining his suit, was even more unusual. The man had a shovel at his side, and some small brushes, but he didn't look harmful, engrossed in his work. He didn't look up until the senator was looming over him, casting a shadow in the small hole he was digging.
"Hello," Lincoln said comfortably.
"Hello," the man replied, looking up (and up and up) at the tall man dressed all in black.
"What's going on, stranger?"
The man climbed to his feet, brushing off his knees a little bit, and adjusting his own top hat. It wasn't quite as tall as Lincoln's, but it was well-kept, and Lincoln ran his thumb along the edge of his own in acknowledgment.
"Professor Layton," the stranger said, offering a hand. The senator's grip was firm and warm.
"Abraham Lincoln," said the senator likewise. "What are you digging for out here in the middle of nowhere?"
"Well, I was down in the town earlier this month and someone mentioned finding arrowheads in this area, so I asked if I could take a look around. Archaeology is a passion of mine," he replied cheerfully. "I like old things."
"Find anything interesting?" the senator said, crouching down himself to run his fingers through the disturbed soil. Even crouching, he made Layton feel short. He leaned down into the dirt again and pulled out an arrowhead that Lincoln had half-submerged, handing it to the senator.
"Kaskaskian, I think," he said, "judging by the edging on it. Probably not too old, though the one that they showed me in town seemed pretty ancient."
Lincoln ran a finger across the stone edge gently, looking thoughtful.
"They're only half a century gone from here," he said.
The professor looked surprised for a moment, but then his enthusiasm for his craft overwhelmed that. "Oh, yes, but they were here when the French arrives in the 1770s," he told Lincoln. "The Illiniweks, the 'people who spoke in a normal way.'" He shrugged. "A lot of tribes have names that translate basically to 'human beings.'"
"I see," Lincoln said, sinking down in a more comfortable position in the dirt. "And what were they like?"
The wind was low, the dust was bearable, and the heat wasn't so bad, either. There was always time for a story, time to learn something new from a knowledgeable stranger. When the light began to grow low, Lincoln invited his new friend home for dinner, and to show him a couple of old trade goods that he'd dug out of his backyard when building the well. Layton was glad for the company. His apprentice had chosen to stay behind in town for the day and watch his father at the smithy. It had been a little lonely out there in the dirt alone.
The two top-hatted men walked off into the twilight, talking, joking, laughing, holding discourse on any number of topics. Layton stayed the evening with the Lincolns and left early the next morning with several suggestions for further excavation sites.
*
He didn't put two and two together for a long while, until the presidential candidates were traveling across the country, debating, and even a professor focused on the past was forced to stand up and notice. He went to one of the debates, standing close to the back, but that profile was unmistakable. He almost wanted to approach Lincoln afterward, but he felt awkward, somehow. The man was a politician. That wasn't really Layton's social circle.
When Lincoln was done talking and the applause rose, Layton tipped his hat to the man and strode away, hands in his pockets.
At least he knew who he'd be voting for, come election time.