Hoshor Plains I Wear My Sins On My Sleeves

sorry their playfight had to be cut short, Colin is just an extremely sad person lol

The wolfdog's laughter is deep and seems to come from every concievable angle as if he's sitting in a theatre. Better watch out-- what would've been a threat is a playful taunt. It strikes him that Donovan knows himself inside and out, every nuance in his intonation and posture recorded and acknowledged, no inch of himself gone without introspection, but before Colin can finish that thought--

Splash.

Like a freight train crashing into a railroad crossing, Colin tips and capsizes in a single moment. If Donovan's laugh was his whole world just a few seconds before, now it is water. He watches bubbles stream from his mouth and the light dancing over his hands. An apparition. A ghost. The mind sees what it wants to see, namely patterns and faces: a young girl's portrait in the whorl of a tree ring. A devil's sharp smile in a gutted canyon. A dead son in-between light and shadow.

Whatever Colin sees, it's enough to kill his smile. When he resurfaces, all the energy has been drained from him. Standing knee-deep in the water, he's just that-- exhausted, wretched, not whole. 

Deep breaths. "Donovan, I-" In, out. In, out. "-I'm going to head back. I'm tired. I'm sorry."