Who: Greg and Helena When: Tonight Where: By the lake What: Greg just likes the lake, that's all. Warnings/Ratings: TBD
Greg never figured himself for liking the countryside before, but he couldn't help noticing that he breathed a little deeper in the village, since the air was so much cleaner, and moved a bit slower without any crowds around to urge him on his way.
He grew up in the city, right in the same house he'd been living in before magic brought him to the village. Newcastle was dirty and grey and rough, busy and crowded. Angry, he sometimes thought to himself, though that wasn't the kind of thing he'd ever say out loud to anyone. The whole city seemed angry. But he was used to it. Had his share of anger, anyway, so maybe it just fit him. Even when there was nature around it wasn't much interest to him. Like he'd never been the kind of bloke who walked the grounds at Hogwarts, fiddling with the grass or watching the lake or whatever kids did out there all the time.
But that night, there in the village, he sat there against the roots of a thin little tree and listened to the lake burbling just a bit where the water met the land and he thought he could just set up a tent right there and be happy. It was a little cold, maybe, but even that felt good. He breathed it in deep and felt it shiver down into his chest and with every breath of it he felt more and more awake. The little sounds of the wind in the trees and the water were all he could hear, and the whole world felt so lazy and peaceful he couldn't help but feel it himself.
He was starting to wonder if he even wanted to go back home. He had his broken down old house and his job and some half-decent mates he worked with, but he didn't have things like this. Places he could just sit and breathe and not have to wonder what he was doing wrong or whether he was acting right. Maybe it was worth it to fight monsters and pull people out of earthquakes if it meant he could have the lake and the air and the breathing and all.