IN PARKING LOTS -- O, OOC PROMPT

[BASTILLEPAW]

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SING, GODDESS, OF THE RAGE OF ACHILLES

Bastille had a strange relationship to water. He had grown up near water, he knew -- his mother's clan had always been so close to water, in one form or another, and his early months were spent there. He was accustomed to its roar and its lull. But there were the memories, too: the weightlessness of falling, the sluggish few seconds before he hit the water, the rush of the gorge as it spent him up immediately, dragged him down current, against rocks and beneath the surface and down, down, down until he couldn't breathe. As a kit, there'd been a glimmer of fear there. Not necessarily of dying, per se, but of having to open his thoughts to it, of being forced through the memories again and again, of feeling Echo become more salient with every replay. It was... frustrating, then.

Now, he had gotten used to water. He'd stood in the shallows for days and days when he was a few months old, and then again, a few months older than that -- heading out after he'd eaten and just standing there, letting the water lap over his paws, letting the memories rush up and then fade away until it no longer got to him. Today, he stopped besides Gordon, and he could taste river water in the back of his throat as he looked out at the others in silence for a moment. It didn't bother him, but it was there, an emotionless memory budding at the back of his thoughts.

"Hey," he greeted, to everyone, before adding to Gordon, "Sitting this one out? I think I might, too."

[b]BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS — ASTRAL SERAPH — THE ASCENDANTS — TAGS