This journey isn't over.
The sun is setting by the time he reaches the shore.
After enough time on your own, things get fuzzy around the edges. Minutes and hours lose definition. He's been gone for seven days, but he doesn't know this exactly. He had simply woken up that morning and known on some level that it was time to come home.
He paddles until the waves push him against the sandly bottom and then gets out and into water up past his knees, barefoot and with the rolled-up edges of his pants darkening with wet. He takes the rope tied to the bow of the canoe and slings it over his shoulder, dragging the boat out of the surf.
In seven days he hasn't shaved, and he guesses he must look a little the worse for wear, but he feels... good, he supposes. Calmer. The doors on certain parts of his mind are closed a little tighter, and if that's not a perfect solution, he'll take what he can get.
He looks down at his footprints in the sand as he grunts and pulls the canoe another few feet. He'll get it up onto the sand past the high tide line and then he'll see about getting it back to where it should be.
And then everything else.
[ooc: He's back from the other island and a bit saner. Come help him get the canoe up the beach. Good time to meet him.]
After enough time on your own, things get fuzzy around the edges. Minutes and hours lose definition. He's been gone for seven days, but he doesn't know this exactly. He had simply woken up that morning and known on some level that it was time to come home.
He paddles until the waves push him against the sandly bottom and then gets out and into water up past his knees, barefoot and with the rolled-up edges of his pants darkening with wet. He takes the rope tied to the bow of the canoe and slings it over his shoulder, dragging the boat out of the surf.
In seven days he hasn't shaved, and he guesses he must look a little the worse for wear, but he feels... good, he supposes. Calmer. The doors on certain parts of his mind are closed a little tighter, and if that's not a perfect solution, he'll take what he can get.
He looks down at his footprints in the sand as he grunts and pulls the canoe another few feet. He'll get it up onto the sand past the high tide line and then he'll see about getting it back to where it should be.
And then everything else.
[ooc: He's back from the other island and a bit saner. Come help him get the canoe up the beach. Good time to meet him.]