[Santo - The Beach]

[walk_ins]

[master post]

You have to walk down a ramp to get to the sand. The ramp stretches over sand dunes, with sea oats dotting them, blowing in the near-constant breeze. On the same level as the ramp: a boardwalk, dotted with places to get sketchy-looking fried food, to try your luck at a number of games of chance, to watch performers, to ride roller coasters of the future!!!!

When you walk down the ramp, it's all white sand and blue water. Down about half a mile is a pier that juts out several hundred feet.

It's a nice beach. Not too crowded.

Comments

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan does not heave a resigned sigh.

But he does remove his shoes. And socks.

Perhaps it's a peace offering.





Or perhaps he has no wish to find sand in his boots three months down the road.

[river_meimei]

Either way, River approves.

Only boring people wear shoes at the beach.

She doesn't bother to sit, though another day she probably would; she just tugs off each boot, balancing easily, and slips her fingers through the loops at the backs as she straightens.

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan raises one eyebrow, clearly amused, then performs the same operation with his own boots.

"Shall we?"

[river_meimei]

"Okay."

It's been a long time since River was at a beach.

She's in a good mood.

[wolflord_andain]

"I would offer my arm, save for my suspicion that you do not need it."

His voice is very dry, even as he begins moving toward an expanse of relatively unoccupied sand.

[river_meimei]

The look River gives him is her own version of that same dryness. It's pretty good; cheerful River may be, but a certain deadpan runs in the family.

"Call it a ball," she says, and hops down in a light puff of sand.

Another benefit of the thin cloud cover: the sand is warm above, cool beneath, but none of it is heated to scorching.

[wolflord_andain]

"I hardly think our attire appropriate."

He matches his pace to hers, at least for the moment.

[river_meimei]

"It's a new trend."

Surely they have sufficient panache. Right?

[wolflord_andain]

"One among many, I suppose."

He does not sound particularly displeased.

[river_meimei]

River just grins a little, as she turns her gaze to the horizon.

There are ships, far off: small pleasure skimmers, arcs of spray slicing up from their bows, and a few with water skiers or force-boarders trailing behind, and the darting shapes of tour-shuttles in the air above. No larger craft; in this city those are restricted to airspace above the docks. Diffuse light glimmers off the water, and the metal skins of the ships.

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan falls silent as well, winter-grey eyes distant and contemplative.

It is strange here, at this moment--familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

There are no flying ships on Fionavar, and though he has grown used to such things in his months here, still there are moments--

But it is just as well.

[river_meimei]

A few steps onward, towards the shore. River's feet scuff lightly through the sand, leaving a dented track wending back to the boardwalk. Her face is relaxed, both blank and contented; only her eyes are slightly narrowed against the sun. Her boots bounce gently against a thigh, leaving dusty smears on her skirt.

It's a few moments before her eyes turn back to Galadan.

[wolflord_andain]

He meets her glance, and raises his own eyebrows in turn.

Would she prefer to converse? To continue in silence? To find some of that fried food?

Galadan, at the moment, is reasonably content where he is.

There's novelty value in that, if nothing else.

[river_meimei]

So is River -- though that, of course, is far more usual.

She smiles just a little in response to that silent question, and turns her eyes back to the sky.

"Birds," she says at length, with the same faint smile. And there are -- gulls, circling in their flapping yelping hordes, though she might mean the silver shuttles instead, or in addition.

[wolflord_andain]

He follows her gaze, mouth quirking sharply.

"Gulls, unless I am much mistaken. You are particularly enamored of them?"

At least they aren't swans.

[river_meimei]

River doesn't shrug, but her voice and face manage to convey the impression of one anyway. "They're noisy."

"Eat, fly. Scan the culinary vantage."

River's enamored of most animals.

Gulls don't get any particular preference by and large, though.

[wolflord_andain]

"A reasonably simple life, I suppose."

He inclines his head just slightly.

Call it acknowledgment, if you will.

[river_meimei]

"Little souls." River's voice is soft, with a faint and detached affection.

She breathes in and out, watching them fly, or the ships beyond them, or some private sight of her own; it's another few moments before she resumes her slow stroll along the beach, eyes still on the sky.

[wolflord_andain]

"They are hardly alone in that."

He sounds faintly amused, even as his attention drops from the birds to the shoreline.

He keeps pace with River the entire time.

[river_meimei]

River's gaze drops to the sand far ahead, and then (after a moment) to Galadan.

She's listening.

[wolflord_andain]

They are, by now, far enough from the largest of the crowd that only the noise remains.

The noise, and a few sunbathers that appear to have fallen asleep.

Carefully, Galadan's shields crack open.

For all that memory hurts, it is a quieter pain than it was. But Lisen is gone, and Amairgen's fate is known. Caer Sedat is empty, and the lios alfar are free to cross the water, untroubled by Maugrim's Soulmonger.

And while that knowledge brings no true satisfaction, it is also untainted by bitterness.

And that, too, is not entirely unfamiliar.

[river_meimei]

River's free hand lifts, after a moment.

Just enough to touch his dark-sleeved forearm, very lightly, with the tips of her fingers. Her eyes are dark and serious, and meet his winter-grey gaze in silence.

(Loss, and mourning, and weary sorrow, and regret without bitter anger--

There are many things River Tam comprehends.)

[wolflord_andain]

He does not look away, at least for a few moments.

And then, very deliberately, one corner of his mouth lifts in the beginning of a sardonic smile.

His shields slip closed again.

But he does not move away.

[river_meimei]

Galadan's shields close; he's quiet again even to River, quieter than almost anyone ever is.

The space of a few slow breaths pass, all the same, before her hand drops away.

"You can feel the sun," she says softly, at length. If River has her own smile, it's only in her voice; a thread of warmth, a thread of compassion, and nothing at all of sardonic deflection.

[wolflord_andain]

"There are worse things."

His voice is very dry, but not cold.

"I suppose."