I'll keep breaking my own heart, finding ways to make it out
I'm still not what I wanna be, what more do you want from me?
I'm still not what I wanna be, what more do you want from me?
Swimming had been a necessary skill to learn after he'd been kidnapped, but Harper remembers learning alongside their elephants in the blissful years before that time. He might never have been a champion swimmer before they'd gotten their hands on him, but those memories are tinged with the warm edge of fondness and delight that only a young child can truly experience. Moving to Torchline had been interesting to say the least, with so much available water to enjoy. After living most of his adult life in a concrete jungle, the on-demand swimming access was almost too much for his brain to handle. It hadn't taken long to remember old habits and lessons, still far too physically fit to need to work up to it either, and so it stands that Harper has become a bit of a beach bunny.
The weather isn't perfect of course with monsoons on the horizon, but the rain is warm when it does come, and for now - though the skies are grey and oppressive - it seems to be holding back. So Harper is easily found out in the waters, bobbing along in the wave area on the surfboard he'd had made when they first arrived. The waves keep pushing him back inland, but when they do he merely turns and uses a few powerful strokes of his arms and shoulders to get back out a decent distance, and begin the process all over again. It's a soothing ritual, boring to others maybe, but Harper finds it fascinating to watch how the isles move of their own accord. Waiting around to decide if maybe he should strike out towards one and explore for a little bit, but hanging back all the same. Waiting for that perfect one...
The weather isn't perfect of course with monsoons on the horizon, but the rain is warm when it does come, and for now - though the skies are grey and oppressive - it seems to be holding back. So Harper is easily found out in the waters, bobbing along in the wave area on the surfboard he'd had made when they first arrived. The waves keep pushing him back inland, but when they do he merely turns and uses a few powerful strokes of his arms and shoulders to get back out a decent distance, and begin the process all over again. It's a soothing ritual, boring to others maybe, but Harper finds it fascinating to watch how the isles move of their own accord. Waiting around to decide if maybe he should strike out towards one and explore for a little bit, but hanging back all the same. Waiting for that perfect one...
