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

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.