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]

[ Bastien scoffs and falls back to lounge on his elbows. ]

Non. In Orlais, we speak as the Maker does. Everyone else has strayed.

[bouchonne]

Absurd. We speak Trade just like Andraste did, down in Fereldan.

[cozen]

[ Sing-song: ] Andraste was from Jaaader.

[bouchonne]

You blasphemer. I should exalted march my way over there and beat you up.

[cozen]

[ Bastien snickers. ]

No religious massacres on beach day.

[ He picks up a bit of vegetable, awkwardly, with his elbow still planted in the sand to hold himself up, and throws it sideways at Byerly's torso. ]

I want to tell you something, but you have to promise not to freak out or... pop.

[bouchonne]

[ By turns his gaze towards Bastien, trying to figure out how serious this is. ]

You have my word.

[cozen]

[ He nods, and leans a bit sideways. It's not actually close enough to whisper, but the idea is there. ]

You seem happy.

[bouchonne]

Well, I -

[ He feels a bit self-conscious. ]

I'm fond of the ocean.

[cozen]

[ Bastien smiles, but then he shows some mercy. Maybe. Maybe it isn't actually merciful to say, ]

I can see why. Mostly-naked and glistening in the sun is a good look for you.

[ But it is at least not hammering further on the issue of happiness. ]

How do you swim so fast? Will you show me? I missed most of the race, I was— [ he gestures to Whiskey. ]

[bouchonne]

[ Fortunately, they've flirted enough that By is comfortable offering a flouncy little toss of the head in response to that. Emotions - emotions are difficult. But sex is sex, and it is simply a fact that half-naked and glistening is a good look. ]

Well, step one - figure out a way to be shaped like an eel. So here, Whiskey, you take his feet and I'll take his arms and we'll stretch him out.

[cozen]

I am serious.

[ He's also wiggling his feet invitingly in Whiskey's direction, so not too serious. ]

I can swim, you know, but it is— [ He moves his hands like seal flippers as well as he can without giving up his propped-on-elbows posture. ] —lake paddling. [ With the airy generosity of a lord: ] But we can do it later if you need a rest.

[bouchonne]

No, I'd be overjoyed to show you. Though you may be a bit disappointed. See, in the ocean, it's not actually about you swimming faster - rather, it's about them swimming slower.

[cozen]

[ With the hush of scandal: ]

Because you weighed everyone down with sausages?