Phoenix Zhang
7 Jun 2025, 04:01
The Lake Takes, the Lake Gives
The sky was low and gray with the faint hint of the sun behind it. Phoenix didn't mind. It was cooler like this — the soft, gray sort of cool that moistened the grass and caused the lake to shine like glass.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Date: 31/05/25 | Time: 16:45 | Outfit: ✕ | CC: #english, mandarin
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She walked by herself, her runners scuffling on rocks that lined the slopes down to the Great Lake. Her fingers were stuffed in the pockets of her frayed denim shorts, thumbs wedged on those rims. Her white button-down was loose and open under her black tank. The whole getup was relaxed, summery, and maybe more than slightly irresponsible — she wasn't planning to meet anyone, though.
She simply required air. Space.
Phoenix sat on the lake shore where the rocks broadened and flattened, into worn slabs like ancient scales. Her knees under her elbows, she leaned forward, her gaze on the lake's surface. The lake's water was not agitated very often — only occasionally would it shift slightly, as if breathing.
She couldn't hear anybody else. That was best.
But the ground under her shifted ever so slightly with her weight shift, and in that moment, her footing gave out.
There was a lurch — the nauseating absence of grip, of air and instinct and her own sharp intake of breath — and then
Splash.
Cold. It left her breathless. Phoenix emerged with a splutter, drips of water clinging to her face. Her white shirt flapped around her like a spirit, soggy and useless, and her runners were leaden weights on her feet.
"Brilliant," she spat out lake water. Her voice was bitter and flat, but mostly with herself.─────
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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: @none @Caspian Villin | 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: @ |
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
11 Jun 2025, 05:06
The Lake Takes, the Lake Gives
TIME | 4:47 pm
DATE | 31/05/2025
INTERACTING |@Pheonix Zhang
Dialogue/Thoughts
Thoughts - #009e77┃ Speech - #007514
𝔗he sky hung low and grey—the kind of grey that didn’t shout rain, just whispered it, soft and slow. The kind that made people linger indoors. Which, of course, was exactly why Caspian was out.
Restlessness had driven him here. So here he was — skipping stones along the outer bank of the Great Lake, watching each one skitter across the surface, trying to look like someone who had deep thoughts instead of just deep boredom.
Then something shifted at the edge of his vision. Not a ripple—something bigger. A person. Alone. Huh.
He slowed.
Tilted his head.
Watched from behind like some curious fox with nowhere else to be.
And then it happened.
No warning. No sound. Just sudden, glorious, unscripted slapstick.
Splash.
A beat passed. Caspian blinked.
And then—oh, it was beautiful. Not in a cruel way. Well, okay — slightly cruel. But mostly in that way where the universe throws you a surprise gift wrapped in soggy irony.
He bit down hard on a laugh, muffling it in the crook of his elbow. It didn't help. It wheezed out of him anyway, uncontainable.
“Oh, brilliant,” he whispered to himself, a devilish sparkle in his eyes. “Ten points for the lake!"
He wandered closer, hands in his pockets, all faux innocence and exaggerated concern. His smirk was already halfway out before he even opened his mouth.
“Well, that was graceful,” he called out, voice casual as a breeze. “Do you normally greet the lake headfirst, or is today just special?”