[ It's stifling. The heat of the sun, the day, the pressure of all those eyes on him. He'd been stretched too thin, whittled to his nerves. The tree line marks the goal he'd set for himself. As if everything will be alright if he can just meet that marker. Like the tunnels, mile by mile, little goals when the larger feels too heavy.
He doesn't want to be followed, zigzagging his light steps into the forest with apparently no concern for direction, besides away. Away from the auction, away from being found at his house or anyone else's. He tries to count the little things that he likes as he goes, hoping to tip the scale. To calm the anger that sparks every time he thinks about what just happened.
The trees allow the breeze to pass, to brush against his heated skin and hair heavy with the humidity still lingering in the summer air. There is plenty of oxygen up here to fill his lungs, fresh without the smell of blood and gunpowder. He can breathe and laugh bitterly, softly, quietly under his breath, without eyes or judgment or his heart scooped raw for spectacle. But he doesn't cry. Not for this.
He'd thought it would be fun. That Zieks would see his bid for what it was. Saving, then deciding it is a want, only for it to crumble in his hands. He'd thought wrongly.
Kaspar's quick pace only slows when he comes upon a small pool, a small snag in the slow moving river, just below a short drop of a waterfall. Rounded banks, imperfect, peaceful, the gently current fills the pool with clear water, shaded by the trees that overhang. Kaspar, fit as he is but weakened by the sun and the tightness in his chest, is sweating by the time he finds this secluded place. Thoughts foggy, he doesn't even glance before starting to peel back the layers of his clothes, shirt thrown over a branch before he even starts on his belt.
Turning to face whatever sound is in the distance, animal or otherwise. ]
[ summer ] [ post auction drama ] [ cw: probably just nudity who knows ]
He doesn't want to be followed, zigzagging his light steps into the forest with apparently no concern for direction, besides away. Away from the auction, away from being found at his house or anyone else's. He tries to count the little things that he likes as he goes, hoping to tip the scale. To calm the anger that sparks every time he thinks about what just happened.
The trees allow the breeze to pass, to brush against his heated skin and hair heavy with the humidity still lingering in the summer air. There is plenty of oxygen up here to fill his lungs, fresh without the smell of blood and gunpowder. He can breathe and laugh bitterly, softly, quietly under his breath, without eyes or judgment or his heart scooped raw for spectacle. But he doesn't cry. Not for this.
He'd thought it would be fun. That Zieks would see his bid for what it was. Saving, then deciding it is a want, only for it to crumble in his hands. He'd thought wrongly.
Kaspar's quick pace only slows when he comes upon a small pool, a small snag in the slow moving river, just below a short drop of a waterfall. Rounded banks, imperfect, peaceful, the gently current fills the pool with clear water, shaded by the trees that overhang. Kaspar, fit as he is but weakened by the sun and the tightness in his chest, is sweating by the time he finds this secluded place. Thoughts foggy, he doesn't even glance before starting to peel back the layers of his clothes, shirt thrown over a branch before he even starts on his belt.
Turning to face whatever sound is in the distance, animal or otherwise. ]