(no subject)

[ ... it's really like any other day. he's just looking over the stream, making sure everything is okay and in place. there's a perfect balance that is rarely upset, so for the most part, he spends his days at brookside, messing with a stone, seeing if he can get it to skip down along the river. at night, he sometimes slips into town to eat cooked mackerel if he dares to have food and leave the river for too long. never for more than a few hours. he feels weak and light-headed if he does. like his limbs are disappearing and his human, corporeal body is disappearing. because that's what it is doing. so most days he just stays at the river, flickering in and out of visibility, preferring to take the shape of a young teenage boy, if only because it's the image he's seen most around these parts. teenage boys that get adventurous or hike or what have you. his dark blue hair, almost black, is fitting, he thinks, because water can take many colors, just like his hair.

he hasn't mastered talking to the turtles yet, though. he's working on that right now with a stick, resting in the sunlight. ]