[ ON TROUBLED WATER | OPEN ]

[LAZARUS]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Everything hurts. The broken antler, the lines Gabriel had scored across his chest, the snaps at his muzzle and ears. It'd all be tolerable if it wasn't compounded with some sorta guilt that he can't describe. There's just this heavy stabbing — he chooses to interpret it as anger; has to think of it like that. Bitterness because he chose to drive off the only person who'd ever cared about keeping him alive. Everyone else here barely gives him a second glance, which's still mostly his fault, probably. It's not like he'd made the best first impression. Or third. Or fourth. Definitely not fifth, at this rate. Gabe had to make a fucking sign so people would understand it. They still don't. Wouldn't. He'd spent a day off licking his wounds, glaring at anyone who dared to get close to him. But he figures it's time to face the music, and the Cane Corso had limped back towards the center of The Ascendants' territory and ends up at the edges of the pool — he doesn't know what it's called, but it's clear and kinda beautiful.

The canine crouches there, the water lapping at his paws. After a second's consideration, he ducks his head down and shakes it in the water, cold but exactly what he'd needed. Drops of red wash into the pool from his wounds, but his thoughts don't bother to go with it. It clears his head a little, though. Just a little. He'd grown up independent, survived by fighting over scraps, defending his own with his life. This shouldn't be too much of a change.