Hoshor Plains I Wear My Sins On My Sleeves

Donovan stands up as if to let Colin's solemnness roll off of himself; he is almost relieved, and is caught mid-nervous-laugh when Donovan leaps into the water, sending a splash up the riverbed, and onto Colin. All 195 pounds of him-- he wouldn't be surprised if with that one gesture, Donovan had changed the direction of the current. 

The water isn't particularly cold. He's thankful for that. Colin's face breaks out into a hesitant but genuine smile, perhaps the first true smile the wolfdog had wrest from him. 

With a yell, he surges forwards, twisting at the moment of impact with the water to send an impressive wave towards Donovan, and suddenly he is a child again, splashing in the puddles of his perpetually rainy neighborhood, letting the water soak into him, dripping off his face and arms and legs. With his hair plastered back, it is so dark it appears pitch-black, and only reveals how thin he is-- at odds with the youthful expression on a face that could almost be considered boyish again.