[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

[gonna_live]

The chord progression's easy -- so easy that even somebody who doesn't know anything about music can tell.

Kaylee lifts her head. Looks at Simon.

"This one?"

[simon_doctor]

For answer, he extends his hand to her, palm up.

[gonna_live]

The noise of the waves is arhythmic -- but no more than you'd get with an old record player and speakers. It's a nice counterpoint. Like it belongs.

Her left hand falls easily into his right; her right falls to rest on his shoulder.

"You can still back out," she warns.

[simon_doctor]

"If I were going to," he tells her, "I would have already."

His left hand goes to her waist, and rests there comfortably. Like it belongs.

[gonna_live]

"In which case..." She moves in a little closer. "You gonna lead, or what?" With an easy grin.

[simon_doctor]

"Give me a moment."

On the next downbeat he moves, and if it's deliberate and careful and not as smooth as it might be, it isn't hesitant at all.

[gonna_live]

"I could've done it," she tells him, still with that same easy grin, over the words they hang like grapes on vines that shine.

[simon_doctor]

"I'm still learning," he answers, and his smile is quick and pleased.

And warm the lovers' glass, the vocalist sings, like friendly wine.

[gonna_live]

The breeze is cold on her back; she moves in closer, cheek brushing against his.






This, she realizes, is Kaylee's kind of party.