there’s a level of ADAPTATION he’s not supposed to be used to, almost as natural as the ability to walk. one foot in front of the other, even paces. he’d blame it on instability, but a leopard can hide it’s spots in the right lights. in the right positions, the right camouflage, it can look like a different animal entirely. he could tell himself that he’s a changed animal, that the instability he’s adapted to ( and become comfortable in ) is circumstantial and a bid not to BURN in the sun. but, really, his instability has been orchestrated by him. he’s doesn’t necessarily run into danger, like the leopard chasing the gazelle, a trek he’s confident he’ll win should he not be outsmarted. in reality, it’s not just intelligence he has to contend with. it’s location, it’s time, it’s genetics. there are only SO MANY FACTORS that define whether he survives under the burning sun and he may be blind to some of them, but he’d like to think he wouldn’t push himself into the middle of the desert without an oasis. sometimes, he sees people who look like watering holes, unoccupied and safe. ( he can’t explain it ; perhaps it’s an empathy that he doesn’t understand, born by gutting his preconceptions and tearing them out like cobbled stones covered in dirt. the dirt below sighs, sizzles under the sun, but SURVIVES. ) he sees her, bold and seemingly uncaring, from across the room and realises he’s been in the sun for too long. ( it’s odd to approach strangers, he knows logically, but they never quite feel like strangers. as though he has a hyper awareness of who and what they are. ) “ hey. ” he’s twisting his form, hiding his spots in plain sight so they BLEND into his form. “ is this seat taken? ” @swtsvrndr
