deep end; caspian day 3

Alone.

Caspian's alone; trapped with thoughts of his own crashing into his skull over and over. Fingertips gently grasping sapphire feathers, warmth bleeding from his hands as his gryphon flies overhead for a second. Their eyes never met his. Their avoidance is heavy in his brain; always under the scrutiny of his own head. The death beneath his fingertips is overwhelming; burning hot and filled with the ever changing shape of his skin, there's nowhere to run. His head spins with a thousand unspoken words and a guilt miles deep into the earth. Reborn again in these dead rot filled lands, he can't breath. Voice stuck in the bottom of his throat, scraping to get out, only he's silent. Eyes unfocused as his gryphon lands with a solid thud of earth and decay.

A sob escapes his throat; echoing against the clay walls surrounding him. The water up to his ankles as he breathes out a heavy breath. The water is cool; a comfort surrounding the shadows of his own turning to four as the extension of light is blocked through the walls. His eyes watch the shadows dance and take shape; hollow empty eyes staring at him as the lips seem to move with a laugh. His heart beats in his throat; over and over and over and over and over and over. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. His breath seems to shake as he collapses slightly into the pool. His muscles ache with the need to give in, to fall into the pool and never climb out. It's not enough to pretend he's okay. It's not enough to watch them all turn away from him as if he's broken the rules of whatever game they're all playing.

Checkmate, Cas. You've already lost any chance to make friends before you die.

It's a bitter feeling as he resides in the water, arms weakly cleaning wounds as he stares off into the twilight stricken sky. There's no peace. The days just grow longer. The nights grow emptier. The violence grows tenser. He shouldn't have hesitated in bloodbath. The easy way out was right in front of him and instead he decided to fight and for what. For Torian to not meet his eyes. For Ulysses to hold his gaze elsewhere as if he couldn't tell there was an awkwardness to the air. For Jayson to not even realize what's happened. For the guilt to already start to eat him alive. It's a souring feeling to feel the dirt and grim leave from his skin as he wets his hair, lets it go shaggy and all over the place as he stares down.

"Who am I? What have I done? I can't. I shouldn't."

Words pressed against his skull as the air shifts.

"God, what have I gotten myself into."