[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]

"There are worse things."

His voice is very dry, but not cold.

"I suppose."

[river_meimei]

River makes a face at him. Very slightly.

(This is redirection and metaphor, and they both know it. But there are worse things than that, too.)

"He's very generous."

[wolflord_andain]

He smiles slightly.

"I have my moments."

Few and far between as they are.

[river_meimei]

"We'll call it the clouds."

She smiles a little as she says it, before she takes another slow step along the sand.

And another, wending her way towards a long deserted stretch of shore, far enough from the train stop that it's mostly empty on a cloudy day like today. The sparse crowds cluster behind them, sunbathers and swimmers and children clustered around the vendors' stalls.

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan merely inclines his head, mouth quirked in a small smile.

It fades, as all things do.

And still they walk, pace slow and sometimes measured as the tide rolls in.

[river_meimei]

When the first wave washes across River's toes, she startles. An instant later, she's grinning.

And a few sidesteps after that, she's ankle-deep in the incoming waves; in the trough of each wave, her bare feet sink into wet sand, and are washed clean again by the next rush of salt water.

There's no need to say anything. The wind and the gulls and the ocean say it all for them, perhaps.

[wolflord_andain]

Perhaps.

And while Galadan does not, himself, go wading, neither does he seek to avoid the waves as they creep higher along the beach.

Though he will be displeased if his clothing gets too damp.

[river_meimei]

That is, River feels, his own responsibility to avoid.

Since she is being kind and not splashing him or anything.

They've worked their way along the beach long enough to be nearing another train stop, and accordingly another scattering of people.

[wolflord_andain]

The monotonous sound of the waves, and of the chatter of human mouths, is abruptly broken by a ridiculous amount of high-pitched yapping.

Galadan winces, if only in passing.

Consequently, he makes no move to stop here, merely casting a quick sideways glance at River in order to make sure she is not particularly keen on it, either.

[river_meimei]

River isn't wincing, but neither is she making the oh, how CUTE! face the poodle's owner is.

She's just casting a bemused and slightly dubious look at the dog, while it bounces on the sand with the oblivious fervor of its barking.

[wolflord_andain]

A second dog pokes its head around the side of the first one.

Then it, too, begins yapping loudly.

They both have red ribbons in their hair.

Galadan's lip twitches.

It twitches more when a tall and hairy gentleman runs toward the dogs, dropping to his knees and cooing.

Apparently he had two more with them.

Galadan shoots another sideways glance at River.

Shall we move on? Quickly?

[river_meimei]

"You're biased against the fluff," River informs him sadly.

But, agreeably, continues on.

For a few steps, anyway; that's how long it takes before the man tears his attention away from his collection of poodles long enough to wave frantically at them.

"Excuse me!" he calls. "'Scuze me, you haven't seen another poodle wandering around, have you? Bites a bit, the silly lad, but he's a softy really."

[wolflord_andain]

"Pardon?"

Galadan's eyebrow almost hits his hairline.

"I do hope he's not prone to swimming. The current seems particularly strong today."

His voice is full of purely intellectual curiosity.

[river_meimei]

Galadan is a jerk.

Uh, in case anyone was wondering about that one.

River casts him a glance that informs him of this, with more amusement than rancor. "Hides in the sand dunes," she says, though the beach is mostly flat. "Check the fried stands."

Thankfully, Santo is not one of those places where a stray poodle is likely to end up in the fried stands.

[wolflord_andain]

The man starts to scowl at Galadan, hands going to his hips--

But then he's distracted by River. Or the thought of fried food.

The remaining poodles certainly seem to approve.

"It does seem to be a popular choice among your brood, such as it is."

Galadan's voice is dry as dust, though his look at River carries something of amusement in it.

"I believe we shall leave you to it."

[river_meimei]

The man waves a hand in friendly acquiescence. He's busy now with looking bemused at his tangled flock of poodles, all of whom have sidled as far away from Galadan as their leashes will permit.

"You got it, chief," he says, and immediately contradicts himself by adding, "Hey, weird. Usually they're much friendlier."

"Go on, boys," he chivvies, with a completely ineffectual tug on the handful of leashes. "Who's a good little hellhound? Say hi to the nice folk!"

River's letting Galadan lead the way, if he wants. She has no dislike of poodles, though no particular desire to stick around either, and she's amused.

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan bares his teeth in what might be a smile.

The poodles are not quite stupid enough to believe that.

"I find myself almost hoping you find your prodigal. Though you'd be better served to train them to heel."

His lips twitch in faint amusement, and he inclines his head just slightly to River.

Shall we?

[river_meimei]

"Okay," River says amiably, and takes a step away.

She does bend over to pet one poodle quickly, though. It whines quietly at Galadan's ankles; River scratches its fluffy ears for a moment, and then straightens with a quick cheerful grin and moves on.

"Nice to meet you!" the man calls to their backs.

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan fails to reply.

And the poodles begin barking again, twice as loud as before.

They do, however, wait until the Wolflord and the gunslinger are ten or so yards farther down the beach.

Galadan does not laugh, but the corners of his mouth flick upward for a few brief moments.

[river_meimei]

"You're antisocial," River informs him.

Mournfully. Really.

[wolflord_andain]

"You might also say I'm merely selective in what company I choose to indulge."

He only sounds mildly chiding, and even that is tainted with a sardonic amusement that never really goes away.

"There are worse things. Tying ribbons on lapdogs, for instance."

[river_meimei]

"They're very pretty."

River is totally just saying that for the reaction.

[wolflord_andain]

"I'm now forced to question your taste level, though I suppose it's largely irrelevant."

His lips twitch again.

"You do seem enamored of fried foods, for instance."

[river_meimei]

"Impeccable," River says primly, veering slightly to avoid a dozing sunbather.

River's definition of good taste does not always quite align with everybody else's.

Speaking of fried foods, they're coming near another cluster of stalls. What a coincidence!

[wolflord_andain]

Somehow Galadan thinks this word does not mean what River thinks it means.

Ah well.

One grows almost used to it.

"In some things, I suppose."

He hardly sounds grudging at all.

There is little point in it. And Galadan has eaten stranger things, in the past.