Greatwater Lake Scrawny Motherfucker with a Cool Hairstyle

It doesn't take long for the lure of the water to pull him in, the boy distracted enough by his own little epihany that he tucks his face into the ripples just as the other begins to make their way into a place of possible visibility, causing him to miss to miss the stranger altogether. The water is an escape place for Aleister, he thinks. It's another of those moments where he can pretend that he's got every piece of himself. He thinks he remembers it being mute underwater, at least. His memory of it is fading a bit, perhaps. The thought is terrifying. 

He holds his snippets of sound dear to him, replays them in his mind and tastes the words he knows how to formulate on his tongue regularly. He can't lose them. He can't. They're the only bits he has that make him feel like he has a chance of normally communicating with outsiders to at least some tragically small extent. Yet in a way, he supposes, they're horribly isolating. They're awful because if he thinks too hard he sometimes realizes that the things he dubs the most normal parts of him are things he can only half-experience. Maybe-

There's movement. 

The boy's head yanks up immediately, air rushing into his lungs and his eyes flicking open, but his vision is slightly blurred by the water and he begins to panic. Fucking idiot- should've kept his head up until he got an idea of if there was anyone near. He backpedals slightly and blinks hard several times, is certain now that the figure is a canine of some sort, and they're not moving fast, which is good. His breath comes in short inhales as he takes a few steps more back, before shaking his head and clearing his vision completely. His eyes focus on the new face, and his hackles lower slightly- they- he?- doesn't look to have harmful intentions. The boy, he believes, is pale like him, but shadows laze over his body in charcoal pools, catching the ghost's eye. He's got a distinctly wolfish face, but he must be part dog. It takes one to know one. He meet the stranger's vermillion gaze again, muscles still taut as he cocks his head in a question, water dripping from his fur. He makes a low buzz from his throat, inquisitive but on alert should he need to get away.