Re: lake, by the shore
On the cold rocks of the shore, he stretched flat on his back and stared upward. He'd done this too many times, lying there and wondering exactly how he was still alive, thinking perhaps it might not last, all the time blinking up at the shifting sky, the stars staring back the way they always did, without emotion. "Yes," he said, though he didn't need to. "I like truth. It isn't always welcome, or kind."
He reached up a shaking hand, winced in the movement, then continued to draw his fingers down his face, scraping cold lake water from his face. His chin was clean but it felt sticky from the mud and chalkiness of the water. "My people can be nice," he said. He was still talking around it, but he smiled ever so faintly in the darkness. He suspected she wouldn't be satisfied with that answer.
"Feel better how?" he asked, tiredly. His eyes had shifted again to the sky, and it was only when her lanky figure divided his vision that he shifted focus. "About my regrets? I don't think that's wise. They're meant to linger so I don't make the same mistakes twice." He did, though. Over and over again. Case in point? Lake.