attacus

[Gotham Phoenix]

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This is open for anyone but Savina, and set the day after they talk. He's just north of the waterfall.

The talk with his mother had left Gotham feeling as if he had done something wrong by isolating himself. It had been the only solution, he had thought, after months of binging on alcohol and nights of blacking out. He did not remember much from that time, and this filled him with further shame. Sometimes he could recall women, though he knew their faces no longer. Often he simply recalled the horrible sensation of the days after, where his blood felt like poison and his stomach emptied itself to the point he believed it could collapse. Since he had sworn himself to sobriety, things had become better.

His lupus form was taken today, for as he often did the dark man was on the hunt. Not for food, of course, but for insects. This hobby was one that had been reborn in his time home, though he did not expect to find anything remarkable today. Feet carried him north, towards the river; this way even if he didn’t find any interesting bugs he could snatch up a fish (or three). Gotham’s body was large and sturdy despite neglecting physical conditioning—he was not out of shape, but certainly no Adonis.

While he certainly found the waterfall pretty, his interest was before it began. He followed the river northwards, stopping as he came to a slow patch made up of semi-deep pools. Insects a-plenty meant fish. A few steps into one of these pools startled everything away, but a few minutes of stillness brought them back. Gotham smiled; he found the forgetfulness of small things quite amusing.

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