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

derrica, ota.

[tender]

i. beach enthusiast

The weather is still cooler than Derrica would have liked, but the concept of spending an entire day by the ocean is such a lure that the complaint barely finds purchase in her thoughts. She'd beamed the entire cart ride over, and that glow has remained undiminished through the presence of sand, seaweed and all other beach-related annoyances. Through the course of the day, Derrica has—

● instigated one swimming race to the lumpy chunk of wood anchored a fair distance from the shore.
● participated in several follow up races, waltzing away with first place
● sunbathed on and off, undeterred by sand sticking to her skin and hair
● danced with anyone on hand, Kirkwallers and Riftwatchers alike
● repaired a few minor sunburns

All in all, she's easy to divert, and more than happy to sweep someone up along in her wake or to be pulled away towards some other venture. She's exceedingly happy with the party, so there's not much she isn't game for.

ii. wildcard

[ do whatever, i'm down. ]

dancing!

[altusimperius]

With his duties diminishing as others come to relieve him, Benedict has a bit more time to himself come the evening. Both willing and able to dance, albeit self-conscious about who might want to, he's pleasantly surprised to be pulled in by a woman with whom he has some familiarity-- Derrica? isn't she Athessa's...?-- and declines to think too hard about it.

He makes for a competent dance partner, with the occasional self-conscious laugh when a step differs from what he'd imagined, a hasty apology when he misjudges a rhythm and accidentally steps on her toe (with his bare foot, so no harm done really).

[tender]

It happens accidentally. One partner gives way to another, before she can realize who she's being passed along to. The beat of the music doesn't falter, and though her first thought is to extricate herself,

Treading on her toes doesn't matter. But Leander's words about him rattle in the back of her head, siphon away some of the ease in her movements. It weighs on her, though she still offers some quiet guidance as they follow the flow of the dance.

"It's alright," she says, incorporating a little hop and shake of her foot into the steps to soften the sting. "It's mostly improvising anyway, just try to stay loose."

[altusimperius]

"Right," he says with his brow furrowed, doing the opposite of staying loose, but at least trying. Completely oblivious to any misgivings Derrica might have about him, Benedict is just doing his best to actually enjoy himself while not being a fool about it.

"I'm glad you're good at it," he remarks with an awkward smirk, "or we'd have spun into the sea by now."

i

[sohighandwild]

Ket is dressed for sunning more than swimming, in a low-cut dress that would normally be worn over a chemise but isn't, gathered up to the knee. She's not so aloof that she doesn't get drawn into a dance or two, but when Derrica comes climbing back out of the water, she mainly gives the impression of a cat that's found a sunbeam.

"Did you win?" she asks, without opening her eyes, from where she's laid out on a blanket. "From here, it was mainly a lot of splashing and shouting, so hard to tell."

[tender]

Derrica playfully wrings out her hair, a stray droplets scattering across Ket's back before perching at the edge of Ket's blanket.

"It was a tie this time," Derrica says, though that's just a guess. It really had devolved into chaos and splashing, but Derrica isn't fussed about it. "There's nothing to win but bragging rights, anyway."

And clearly Derrica is comfortable in her own talents without any external confirmation.

"You look comfortable."

In which comfortable is a stand in for a variety of other compliments.