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

[highborn]

[ Ah, good, am amiable answer to the wink. That doesn't always go over well. (A lesson never really taken to heart.) He reaches to accept the joint, and answers only after a deep and slow in and exhale. ]

I didn't realize that was in the beach contract. What an embarrassing oversight.

[sulahnan]

[ She seats herself beside him, stretching her legs out before her and leaning back on her hands. ]

Almost as embarrassing as arriving to a party underdressed. Or...well.

[ Overdressed, as the case may be. She raises an eyebrow at his sleeves. ]

[highborn]

[ Her pointed glance draws a sigh out of him, as he hands the joint back. His tone goes a little tight, irritated. ]

I recently had to have roots pulled out of my shoulder. It's not the best look to share on a beach, you see.

[sulahnan]

Roots? How'd that happen?

[ She draws in more smoke, choosing to be unbothered by his irritation and tipping her head back to blow smoke rings into the air.

Good luck deterring her, Vanadi. Athessa is no stranger to befriending prickly fuckbois. ]

[highborn]

[ Please don't make him say this. He delivers a very flat look, and requests another go at the joint with a gesture. That first, thanks. ]

[sulahnan]

[ Well if he doesn't want to share then she'll share enough for the both of them. That's how that works, right? She hands the joint over and traces the scar on her cheek with one finger. ]

I got this one in Churneau just last month. Some magister's bodyguard who thought I had potential and reminded me of his daughter.

[ Her hand drops to her décolletage, traces next the scar crossing her collarbone. ]

Venatori Stalker. If I'd blocked this one she would've sunk her other blade into my neck.

[ Then, she extends her arm, wresting her tattooed wrist on bended knee to better facilitate coasting her fingers over a crescent-shaped scar on the inside of her forearm. ]

A watchman's hound gave me this one when I was fourteen. Caught stealing. And this one—

[ A thin, pale scar on her inner thigh. ]

—Actually, I'll keep that one to myself.

[highborn]

[ He makes good use of the joint, but it doesn't stop his attention from following closely along with each vignette. They make an excellent reason to enjoy the sight of all that skin. His eyes linger a moment on that last scar before flicking back to her face. ]

Only a month ago? It's healed quite well. [ He dutifully returns the joint, and with the smoky exhale: ] A two-headed wolf bit me, and ferns grew from the wound. The root system had to be dug out to fully remove them.

[ See. Ridiculous. It's even more ridiculous after all that, thanks. ]

[sulahnan]

[ Judging by Athessa's face, she doesn't find it ridiculous at all. In fact, she's intrigued. Impressed, even. ]

Really? That sounds painful.

[ Prepare for stoner logic in three...two... ]

Kind of cutting out a few steps in the life cycle there, huh? Starting to feed the plants with your flesh before you've even been put in the ground.

[highborn]

[ Well. It's not wrong. He makes a face as he considers it. ]

Something like that. It was a strange place -- something to do with a rift. [ He waves it off as outside of his understanding, as so much around here is. ] Regardless, no one needs to see that.

[sulahnan]

[ For a moment it seems like she might argue, or insist, but the sharp breath in that she takes is let out not long after, shrugging her shoulders. ]

Maybe some other time, then. [ :^) ] Mind if I ask about that one?

[ The one on his face, she indicates with a sweeping gesture. ]

[highborn]

[ He would mind, as a matter of fact, but keeps the aversion off of his face. He smiles instead, drawing one knee to his chest to fold an arm around it for a more conversational sort of comfortable. ]

I'll trade you for it.

[sulahnan]

Yeah? Trade what?

[ Athessa isn't that invested, truly. If he wants to keep his scars off the table, all he has to do is say so. ]

[highborn]

Information seems fair, doesn't it? [ His smile is calm, personable, practiced. As a show of good faith, that he's not talking about anything too spicy: ] Are you an only child?

[sulahnan]

[ She smirks. Amused. If only Vanadi knew how free this information is. As trades go, pretty worthless fare. ]

Sort of.

[highborn]

Sort of? [ His brows arch. ] Does that mean half siblings? Siblings by marriage?

[ Or dead siblings, that's probably the third option. He doesn't add that. ]

[sulahnan]

I grew up with four other children my age being raised in the clan, and they were like siblings to me. But I was the only child my parents had.

[highborn]

Siblings by community. [ He smiles. Much nicer than dead siblings, that. Very quaint. ] Where do you fall among the ages?

[sulahnan]

[ Uhhhm. She has to think back, as it's been eighteen years since she saw any of them alive. Sorry, Vanadi. ]

There was only one younger than me, the others older.

[highborn]

[ A have to think about it answer still answers a few things, and it's really only an idle curiosity. It'll do. ]

And how old are you?

[sulahnan]

Twenty-nine.

[ Yes, yes, she knows she looks young. Athessa considers Vanadi for a moment, forestalling his questions with one of her own: ]

Do elves age differently in your world? That seems to be the case for the Provost.

[highborn]

[ He considers her right back, because — twenty-nine. A baby, by elven standards that he knows. All those scars suggest a different story, though.

He nods, finally glancing away. ]

More slowly, yes. Physically we mature about as quickly as humans, but ... [ He considers it a little more thoughtfully than he might have before, with a broader context than he's used to. ] Our lives happen more slowly. An elf living at home faces very little of anything particularly challenging in their first century.

[sulahnan]

Huh. That's a long time to go unchallenged.

[ It's an interesting thing to think about, especially given the context of how the elvhen in Thedas were once immortal. ]

Elves here used to live a lot longer. The stories say that it's being around humans that made our lives shorter, but who knows if there's any truth to that. It's why we call 'em shemlen though. Quicklings, or quickened children.

[highborn]

[ Oh. That makes sense, he'd wondered at that. He makes some small thoughtful noise, considers it a moment more, then flops back into the sand with a deep sigh. ]

I'd better start collecting humans then, I wouldn't mind a few years less. I've had a hundred and twenty-five of them so far, and I've done next to nothing with the whole lot.

[sulahnan]

If nothing else you've certainly become adept at dodging questions, [ she chuckles, clearly not minding his diversion of the topic.

Wherever the joint is, she fetches it up and takes a drag, holding in the smoke and then breathing it out through her nostrils. ]

Are you an only child?

[highborn]

[ Wryly: ] Ah, well, at least the time wasn't entirely wasted.

And no, no. Youngest of eight, in fact. [ He tips his head to watch that dispersing smoke. ] Have you any children?