OPEN LOG: A beach party.

[bouchonne]

WHO: Everyone.
WHAT: A beach party.
WHEN: On a very hot day. At some point during the month.
WHERE: A beach just outside of Kirkwall.
NOTES: It is a beach party.

During a particularly hot and oppressive week in Kingsway, the Diplomacy division announces it will be diverting some of its funds to organize a party on a nearby beach. Kirkwallers are invited as well - a relationship-building sort of effort - but the party is mostly intended for morale boosting for Riftwatch itself.

The party features the following:

• Transportation to this lovely beach from the Gallows and from Kirkwall.


• Sunbathing and swimming in skimpy (or non-skimpy, if you're a fuckin square) bathing suits.


• Live music and dancing.


• Delectable grilled meats (and some vegetables, if you're a fuckin square).


• Rum drinks served in hollowed-out fruits.


• A sandcastle-building competition.


• A swim race.


• A few fun little sailboats bobbing around out on the water.

Does all that sound too wholesome? Great! There's also a cave system in the cliffs next to the beach. These little grottos are full of nooks and crannies and are perfect for a bit of sinful action after dark; in one cavern, there'll be some gambling games where some of Kirkwall's citizens are losing money; in another, you're likely to run into people making out.

Have fun! Soak up sun! Don't get in trouble! Or do, whatever, it's a beach party.

Comments

[cozen]

Healer.

[ He doesn't need a healer. He rolls onto his side and props his head up in his hand, with pantomimed effort, so he can accept the orange with the other. ]

Or we could skip to the end and start building the pyre.

[unshut]

[She squints down at him, as if for a moment extremely critical of his condition—]

I think there are plans for a bonfire. I'll consult the Ambassador and see if we can't just toss you on it.

[cozen]

I think that is what I love most about Antivans, [ he says, before drinking from the orange—deeply—and offering it back as he swallows, in case it wasn't meant to be a permanent hand-off. ] Efficiency.

[unshut]

When we're born, we're all wrapped in baby blankets with the phrase [—here, something pleasantly mysterious in Antivan as she accepts the orange—] embroidered into it.

[She takes a drink before translating for his benefit.]

Better to be clever than overworked.

[cozen]

Ah ouais?

[ With choking no longer a danger, he lies flat. ]

We have something similar in Orlais, but it is mieux être beau—to be beautiful. So of course I have worked very hard all of my life.

[ Said with a lightness that means he's perfectly aware that his looks are more than adequate for his purposes and he doesn't actually want or need to be told he's pretty. ]

You are lucky I did not see you before I was dying. I would have asked you dance and made you disappoint me.

[unshut]

[Which earns a sidelong look and a raised eyebrow that is clearly the put-on imitation of beautifully and archly offended, involving slightly too much sardonic eyebrow waggling to be a serious attempt.]

Are you suggesting that I'm a poor dancer, Monsieur?