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

[coquettish_trees]

The problem is that she so often wants to wail, and there is nowhere she can except in the dark in their room into a pillow, curled around it so tightly it aches when she lets go.

Split my time between here and where.

“I am going to walk in the sea,” she says, not unkindly. And once she is standing, more softly, “It is not your fault.”

[altusimperius]

By the look on his face, it's clear her reassurances were needed. A bit of tension leaves Benedict's shoulders, his expression still slightly wary, but verging on sympathetic.

"...I meant to say," he adds, before she can walk away, "thank you for the clothes."

[coquettish_trees]

She looks over her shoulder and nods slightly in acknowledgement.

“It is Colin who deserves such thanks, but...” Granted, she had suggested the tailor, had encouraged the use of her credit with the same. “You are welcome.

“It matters, how we are able to present ourselves,” Alexandrie looks away again, watching the horizon. “Despite the circumstances, you are a lord of Tevinter; your blood, your lineage, those things cannot be taken. I wished to do Colin a kindness, but I wished also to remind you that there is still at least one here who remains mindful of that.”

[altusimperius]

Unsure of how he feels about that, Benedict simply nods. Being a lord of Tevinter has encompassed his entire identity up until recently, only for him to realize he's not certain he ever wanted it in the first place; there's been something freeing about disappearing into commonness, away from his mother's judgmental gaze.

He doesn't burden her with it-- she wanted to walk in the sea, after all. He lets her go, watching pensively after her.