{ Pressure is the thrum of a heart accelerating, pulse ready to leap from his throat. It’s the bundle of nervousness as he tries to grasp what is going on, panic diluting senses to their bare usage. Coiled and sharp, regardless of the situation, Will has to be alert. The makings of nearly dying have left him riddled with paranoia. Despite the training he received at Quantico, he failed his tests on a level that shouldn't have been approved on the field.

His instinct may be what has kept him going, one he struggles to embrace even after now having a taste of it. It's a faded memory, as if coming to Rhodos has reset him, and he's not sure how to feel about it. He should be elated, despite the circumstances at hand.

For a moment, Will has to wonder if he's finally dead. The sea has no natural wind direction, and the tangy air he’s grown to find comfort within is nowhere to be found. It is silence on a roulette with one bullet and not knowing when the trigger will be pulled. Will arrived with an itching sense of relief he didn't think he deserved. Then it was yanked away by the fuzzy haze of a strange new world, all too reminiscent of when he'd find himself in the middle of the road some nights.

He has taken to exploring on his own and staying clear. Perhaps it isn’t hell he’s found, it’s purgatory. He continues to stare at the sea from afar, returning to it every other day. Each time, he tries to find the waves upon the water that might have no actual ripples. The fog is ahead, and part of him wants to know what is beyond. He knows better. Does he…? }

I always thought I would die at sea. Now it’s mocking me.

{ It’s different, the way the goosebumps rise upon his arms, hairs standing. He might as well be a soaking wet cat, plucked freshly after being thrown into a tub. The feral that comes from within is stilled, but he isn’t about to trust the lure of a fog that is tempting him. He’s had his temptations, and a question has been haunting him more than the subtle hooves he hears by his door. He has to wonder if the newfound reality is his punishment? Where did...? The wounds of a feverish dance are still fresh in his memory, as if it’ll eventually suffocate him if he keeps driving it back into a deal with it later mindset. Far too many questions, and all he can do is fixate. It’s what he does best.

Instead of panicking when he finds he’s outside instead of his room, having woken up from a bout of sleepwalking, he briefly listens for the familiar sound. It has been ages since he's taken an unwanted night stroll. He knew he was going to encounter someone eventually, just not while in his boxer briefs. Great. He takes a step, and the shadow on his right copies him. It's attached to a looming figure larger than a moose, antlers unmistakable and a pitch dark complexion as if one were to stare into a black hole. }

Do you see it?

{ He’s tired. All he can register is his parched voice, roughened after needing to adjust to speaking once again. He’s not sure if he can calculate how long it’s been. A brief moment passes, until he hears a clear sound of feathers ruffling, as if whatever is lurking nearby is slowly rearing up for something. Stalking its prey. Assessing. }

{ Most of the time he spent when he arrived had been compartmentalized in sections. Most of it was to observe and intake what was happening. He's a creature of habit, so he took to the apartment and trying to make it what his house had been in Virginia. He wanted to stay away from people as much as he could, but sometimes life has a way of making a fool out of him.

Will hasn't moved much after he noted the film liked to play over and over. A sensation begun to creep into cracks he tried to conceal. Bleeding wounds are more accurate, and he was trying to put a tiny, pathetic band-aid over it. The more he watched, the more the stench of grief or otherwise became apparent. }

You're resisting, { comes the comment. It has always been easier to deflect onto others rather than trying to understand what he's feeling. His expression is indescribable. He does not turn to look at his newfound companion. His eyelashes do get a hint of wet, drawn out with a rapid motion of blinks. Will's eyes sting, and his frown deepens. He's not sure if it's his doing. }

( v flexible as i’m trying this out, so open to all sorts of scenarios. hell, let's get weird. i love mind bendy shit. most likely pulling him from the end of s3 or midway bc i like to make my muses suffer. pms are open if you have any questions or ideas you want to try. or hit me up at groovygenes!! )