(no subject)
Since receiving the scuba equipment, Mathias hasn't really had a chance to use it as much as he'd like. He's put on the fins and the mask a few times, done some shallow dives without the tank and it's only now that he's somehow conned the box into giving him a wet suit that he's strapped on a tank and headed out into deeper waters.
It's peaceful and it's quiet. There's life under the water, slow moving and well concealed, but if he looks up instead of down, he can almost forget about it. He's completely alone.
No one knows he's out here. Suddenly, as he swims, he's very aware of this fact, painfully aware of how alone he is. Between the water pressure and the sense of being completely alone, he has a moment of panic, the feeling of his chest being crushed and fear rips through his tentative sense of calm. What makes it all the more difficult is the knowledge that he used to love this. Being alone in the water with nothing but a mask and a tank used to be his escape, but even now, after so much time, being completely alone is difficult.
He flounders in the water, losing his rhythm and he almost spits out the mouthpiece. He's far down enough that doing so would be dangerous, especially if he couldn't get it back in, but he lifts his hands to his mouth, holds the mouthpiece steady as he turns and silently begins to head back toward shore. In the dark water, something brushes past him and he jerks away from it, swimming steadily toward the shallow water. It takes longer than he would like, but eventually the tips of his fins hit the sand and he stands, rising out of the water and pulling the mouthpiece free.
He had to take care of his equipment, but for the moment, he simply stands on the beach and pants softly, trying to catch his breath.
[He's a little unsettled, but it's a fine time to meet him.]
It's peaceful and it's quiet. There's life under the water, slow moving and well concealed, but if he looks up instead of down, he can almost forget about it. He's completely alone.
No one knows he's out here. Suddenly, as he swims, he's very aware of this fact, painfully aware of how alone he is. Between the water pressure and the sense of being completely alone, he has a moment of panic, the feeling of his chest being crushed and fear rips through his tentative sense of calm. What makes it all the more difficult is the knowledge that he used to love this. Being alone in the water with nothing but a mask and a tank used to be his escape, but even now, after so much time, being completely alone is difficult.
He flounders in the water, losing his rhythm and he almost spits out the mouthpiece. He's far down enough that doing so would be dangerous, especially if he couldn't get it back in, but he lifts his hands to his mouth, holds the mouthpiece steady as he turns and silently begins to head back toward shore. In the dark water, something brushes past him and he jerks away from it, swimming steadily toward the shallow water. It takes longer than he would like, but eventually the tips of his fins hit the sand and he stands, rising out of the water and pulling the mouthpiece free.
He had to take care of his equipment, but for the moment, he simply stands on the beach and pants softly, trying to catch his breath.
[He's a little unsettled, but it's a fine time to meet him.]