pyropolar:

      _{//   @incandescehope   //      attempt to find solace in the light of the moon turned out to be a bust. there was an ocean inside of him, crashing within his rib cage with a force he feared would break him to pieces, in truth, he preferred his new strategy. keeping the unease to himself, pressed down into the black waters, was therapeutic in a way. so was the loneliness. that, however, is short lived. halfway around the lake he catches sight of a figure hidden within a bed of flowers. it’s common practice to investigate, especially since he already has a hunch of who it may be, and he really can’t find it in himself to keep away, not now at least. he sits a comfortable distance from the other, eyes trained on his hands rather than his face.  ‘ it’s late, you know. ‘}

          _{truth be told, elwood’s coping mechanisms ( or rather, a distinct lack of ) probably aren’t the healthiest, but he can’t bring himself to seek an active change. whenever he’s upset, or stressed out, he comes here – a public lake it might be, but there’s one little sector hidden between two tree gatherings and within that space there’s a huge flower bed, which is currently where he’s perched. with a canvas balanced on his knee and his paints on the other, elwood manages to lose himself in the sensation of forgetting ; he can take himself away from the harsh reality of his life and instead escape to somewhere where it’s him alone … or at least, it used to be. there’s a splash of paint across his cheek when he looks up, and he offers a nervous smile. ❛ … what’cha doin’ out alone, then? ❜}