The training with Liam had helped, but not enough. It had worked out his body, but his mind, his chest, those are moving too fast and uncertain. So, rather than risk doing something rash and dumb by staying in the main area where he might run into her, or anyone else for that matter, he buys a taxi over to one of the little islands. He tells the man to come back before nightfall, and hopes the promise of more coin will be enough to ensure he has a ride back, because no fucking way is he swimming back, and in that case he might just become a hermit on this island and befriend a volleyball or something.
Finding as fine a spot as any on the sand (note: they all suck, because it's SAND), Kaisel plops himself down. Sand immediately weasels its way between his sneakers and socks, so his meditation retreat it already starting off strong. Sighing, he yanks off his boots and socks, slapping the grains from the fabric and pouring the rest from the shoes with a shake for good measure. As clean as he can get them, he sets them neatly aside, his backpack joining them. He gathers his legs into crisscross applesauce style and rests the back of his hands on his knees, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
He's supposed to just, not think. That's how it works, right? Just... experience? The roar of the ocean is behind him, a steady rhythm, while the wind sweeps in once and a while to ruffle the edges of his hair and get lost in the folds of his hoodie. It is peaceful by all accounts, but the tension remains woven in his 'brow and the corners of his mouth.
Finding as fine a spot as any on the sand (note: they all suck, because it's SAND), Kaisel plops himself down. Sand immediately weasels its way between his sneakers and socks, so his meditation retreat it already starting off strong. Sighing, he yanks off his boots and socks, slapping the grains from the fabric and pouring the rest from the shoes with a shake for good measure. As clean as he can get them, he sets them neatly aside, his backpack joining them. He gathers his legs into crisscross applesauce style and rests the back of his hands on his knees, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
He's supposed to just, not think. That's how it works, right? Just... experience? The roar of the ocean is behind him, a steady rhythm, while the wind sweeps in once and a while to ruffle the edges of his hair and get lost in the folds of his hoodie. It is peaceful by all accounts, but the tension remains woven in his 'brow and the corners of his mouth.
Kaisel
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
