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[center][h1][color=#EEE8AA]Ezekiel Kel[/color][/h1]  
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/9b/41/f2/9b41f2301b65123c43a85544a261096a.jpg[/img]  
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[color=#EEE8AA]Location[/color]: Camp Lava Lake
[color=#EEE8AA]Skills[/color]: [/center]  
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Zeke was still shirtless. He watched his twin sister and boyfriend when it dawned on him. And even though it was hot out, he felt oddly exposed. Like he was being watched. Zeke looked around. A slight breeze shifted through the trees' leaves, creating a comforting rustle and a reprieve from the day's intense heat. Still, Zeke shivered and collected a shirt from his bag. 

Dressed once more, Zeke took the path down to the campfire. The area was simple with a few log benches rising on a hill. The lake was visible through the breaks in the trees, and the fire pit was well-sized and well-placed. Zeke moved around, cleaning up branches and rocks, and made note of some of the rougher-looking benches before he sat down on one and watched the trees. 

He shut his eyes and picked up the guitar he brought with him. Memories of Nancy’s first seizure flashed behind his closed eyes. The fear, the confusion. The doctor's appointments, his mother crying, the kitchen light still on at two in the morning, while she stressed about the bills. The anxiety grew in Zeke as his fingers moved rapidly along the strings. Until he just stopped. Zeke opened his eyes, the sudden change blinding for a moment. Slowly, the trees came into view. And then the clouds, the lake, the feel of the bench underneath and the crunch of gravel as Zeke adjusted his feet. And the music started again, slower this time. A breathing space. 

Music had come easily to Zeke, as if it were an extension of him. He always wondered if his dad had some sort of talent for it. He knew his mother loved music and dance, but she rarely talked about his father. Growing up, it had bothered Zeke. There were just some things he wanted his father to tell him, rather than an older cousin or friends from school. Usually, because they were wrong. And there was only so much one could learn from reading a book.

Zeke set his guitar aside after playing a few more songs, including ones he had written with Nancy. It was lethargic in a way, taking a moment away from the others to process and just be Zeke. It was a reminder of what was important and what he was working towards. And somehow, he was adding another element to that goal in the form of messy black hair and a cheeky smile. Zeke grinned, his mood shifting and stood. He finished making busy work around the campfire area before he grabbed his guitar and headed back to the main house for supper.