[open] beach episode volume 2: gallows edition

[altusimperius]

WHO: everybody who wants
WHAT: (lukewarm) BEACH PARTY (on rubble, in harbor)
WHEN: late Justinian
WHERE: the Gallows, amidst its newly-acquired sea view
NOTES: he's trying

I. Prep

He didn't ask for help overtly, but Benedict is clearly working hard setting up the space he's designated for the company to have their beach staycation: drapings taken from his own stash and salvaged from the Gallows' erstwhile guest rooms are drawn across glyphed-in-place poles to create shade. He's hauled out a table, onto which he proceeds to place a variety of whatever canapés he could afford to procure with his own wages-- it's not a feast, all right-- and beside which he rolls two barrels of decent-ish wine.

From the baths come a stack of towels piled high in his arms, hindering his vision to such a degree that he may crash into someone not paying attention; pillows and the like come next, in armloads that take multiple trips, by the end of which he's visibly out of breath.

Lastly, it's his very own water pipe making an appearance, which he arranges amidst comfortable ground seating mimics how his room used to look: in fact, most of the accoutrements here are his personal belongings.
As such, he knows just how to set everything to create an attractive, if minimalist, space for an afternoon's leisure.


II. Party?

It may not be an all-out bash like their excursion to the sandier shores of the Waking Sea some years ago, but this, if nothing else, is an opportunity for work on the Gallows to pause in palatable increments. One can be clearing rubble or cataloguing property for the morning, then pop over for an hour of sunbathing and a glass of wine; they're all within calling out distance of the courtyard, and the party likely bleeds into the day's work in a manner somewhat more comfortable than if it were sequestered.

That said: the early summer sea water is cold, the sun is out but meek behind occasional cloud cover, and the festivities are on clean-swept stone rather than sand. The view across the water is of mainland Kirkwall, and all that that entails.
But it's none of it so bad, for anyone looking to take a break. A few musicians even show up a bit later in the afternoon, and Benedict provides a bonfire in the center of the party space as the sun goes down.

Anything brought to share is met with effusive thanks from Benedict, who ensures its appropriate placement and distribution. He doesn't spend much time relaxing himself, instead making the rounds with the air of a fussy host, where he's quick to offer refills or alternatives in libations, or diversions for unsatisfactory activities.

[make your own starters, do your thing, go hog wild-- if you have logistical questions feel free to ask on plurk or discord]

Comments

[laruetheday]

"Of course I can."

Not that she's ever tried it in the ocean before, specifically. But Clarisse knows she can do a handstand, and she's done handstands in the pool as a kid before, so she's fairly confident.

[altusimperius]

"Prove it."

He doesn't doubt at all that she can, but it's an excuse to make Clarisse willingly throw herself facefirst in the water, and that's sort of funny.

[laruetheday]

She seems to have caught on to his plan.

"If I do it here a wave is going to hit me in the face." And if she does it a little deeper in, it will hit her in the ass. This is a problem.

But Clarisse is not one to give up easily. She's brainstorming. "Maybe there's a sandbar I could swim out to and do it there." That way she'd be in the water but out of the waves.

[altusimperius]

He just grins, but doesn't goad her-- it's a joke, after all, and he doesn't want her to actually get injured. Or drowned. Optics would be bad on that one.

"I think so," he muses, taking a step or two toward the water to point out to where there are a few people milling around, waist-high. "Looks like there's ground to stand on out that way."

[laruetheday]

She follows his gaze and nods. Yeah, that looks perfect, and it's out past the bigger waves. Not much chance of getting knocked over and humiliating herself.

"I'll do it if you come out too." Because she wants her performance to be witnessed up close, obviously. It wouldn't be the same if Benedict just stood on shore.

[altusimperius]

A big, theatrical, put-upon sigh-- why can't things just be easy, Clarisse-- then, "fine."

He steps toward a suitable chunk of debris and removes his tunic to fold it neatly, kicking off his shoes to then place them rigidly beside it. The trousers stay on, because leave it to him not to wear appropriate swimwear to his own beach party.

"Go on then," he says, coming back with a little glint in his eye, like he's trying not to laugh, "or do you want me to push you?"

[laruetheday]

Ha, who's being tricked now? Huh?

"You could try," Clarisse goads him, but she's already stepping further into the surf.

The water is cold, but she's been in for a while and barely flinches as the waves start hitting her in the stomach, then the chest. Once it's that deep she decides, fuck it, and begins to swim in the direction of the sandbar. She's a strong swimmer, and it doesn't take her long to get there, where she climbs up onto a spot where the water only reaches her knees, and waits for Benedict to catch up.

[altusimperius]

He restrains himself from mischief, mincing in after her with a screwed-up and unhappy face as soon as his feet touch the water: y'all are swimming in this? --and yet.

If he were a braver soul he might just launch forward and get wet all at once, but instead he comes in with another face (this time accompanied by an aggravated whine) as his midsection hits the water line.

He takes far too long to arrive at the sandbar, and has somehow managed to do so with his hair still dry and pristine; all he's missing is a lit cigarette in his mouth, but he left those on land.

[laruetheday]

"You didn't even get your hair wet?" Clarisse is yelling before he even finishes standing up. "I guess mine wouldn't be wet either if I swam like a grandpa."

Hers is dripping everywhere and curling up at the ends. She rakes a hand through it, which helps not at all, then gives up. It lives like this now.

[altusimperius]

Benedict tosses his hair demonstratively as he stands, placing his hands on his hips.

"I put a lot of work into this," he primly replies, "I'm not about to waste that." His grandpa would have agreed.

let me here

[armd]

And yet —

A shark approaches the two of them: Abby's head surfaces from underneath of the water, having dove in after the two of them the moment she noticed them braving it, catching up. Fuck, it's really fucking cold under there! Her teeth are chattering as she hauls herself up onto the sandbar, wet braid stuck to her back. Once she's got her knees on it, she throws out her arm into Benedict's midriff, shoving him backward. Off the sandbar.

In you go.

[altusimperius]

For the most fleeting of moments, Benedict starts to smile at Abby-- oh hey, didn't see you there-- but, were the scene to be slowed down on some kind of magical device that can capture and replay moments from life, the exact moment would be clearly defined as to when he realizes he's about to be betrayed.

He can't do anything to stop it. He flails his arms with a breathy gasp and falls backward into the freezing water with a dramatic splash, resurfacing a moment later, beautiful hair matted to his head, with the air of a wet cat.

He spits out some of the water he inhaled, glaring.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse is actually so impressed that Abby managed to follow them without either of them noticing, but she doesn't have time to say so before Abby is shoving Benedict backwards into the water. The whole thing happens so quick and seamlessly that her reaction is a second delayed—

But by the time Benedict resurfaces with his hair in his face, she's crouched on the sandbar laughing her ass off.

[armd]

Abby is laughing too and slips on the sandbar because of it. When her hand shoots out from underneath of herself she smacks her elbow hard, it makes her gasp, "Owfuck—" and concentrate on pushing herself up properly. Hearing Clarisse laugh like that, with her whole body, feels really good.

Eventually she pulls herself together enough to extend a hand out to wet-cat Benedict, offering to haul him back out of the water.

[altusimperius]

It’s definitely funny, on some level. But this water is cold, and his hair looked so nice today, and Benedict just wants to sulk about it a little bit.

He draws himself up with Abby’s assistance, immediately pushing his wet hair back out of his face with a proud, defiant scowl. how dare you

[laruetheday]

"Just think of it like revenge for the stairs," Clarisse says, even though she had nothing to do with said 'revenge' and in fact isn't even sure whether Abby knows about that.

She manages to stand up straight—gods, her stomach hurts from laughing. It feels like forever since she's done that and actually meant it.

[armd]

Abby is trying really hard not to laugh at Benedict's wet hair, the water dripping off his nose, the scowl on his face. She keeps making a funny, scrunched up expression like she's about to lose it all over again.

"Revenge for the what...?"

[altusimperius]

Benedict folds his arms, looking manfully off into the distance, allowing them to calm themselves before he answers. He hasn't just flipped them the bird and run off, which is a good sign, but it's clear that his pride has taken a hit.

"There was," he mumbles, "that place we all got stuck, and lost our memories." This is not a story he enjoys telling, and he glances dolefully at Clarisse. You do it.

[laruetheday]

This story might be one that Benedict is embarrassed by, but at this point there's been enough distance from it for Clarisse to find it amusing.

"We ran into each other near this flooded room," she says, "and we were standing on these stairs looking at the water, and Benedict tried to kick me off them." She's still not totally clear on the reason why. But whatever, it's funny now.

[armd]

"Did you?" Abby looks kind of impressed, a grin breaking through, "So you are scrappy."

And because she is loyal to the both of them, she suddenly ducks behind Clarisse and gives her a hard shove to try and send her off the rock too. Like why should memory loss Benedict have all the fun.

[altusimperius]

Benedict's little apologetic smile turns into something more like a grin, which evolves into a full-blown cackle when Abby shoves Clarisse.

"I have my moments," he says primly, helping Abby along in her already shifted-forward point of balance to hip-check her in as well.

[laruetheday]

Wow, the sudden betrayal.

Clarisse isn't fast enough to stop herself from going into the water, but she does grab for Abby's arm as she loses her balance and tries to yank her after her in with an indignant yell. And since Benedict is already hip checking her off balance, it's probably a little more violent of a yank than she intended it to be, but you know what? That's karma, baby.

[armd]

Noooo the double-betrayal—

Abby shouts in return, no particular word just sound, then hits the water and goes under. Clarisse's grip on her arm is so tight, jerk. She wrenches her arm away as she surfaces, shaking water out of her face with a gasp.

"You jerk—"

Clarisse, you're getting splashed.

[altusimperius]

Safely on the sandbar, Benedict proceeds to laugh with uncharacteristic, un-self-conscious abandon. He is not helping, but he is having an excellent time.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse is still yelling when she comes up for air, but it turns into a sputtering laugh as Abby yells at her.

"You pushed me, jerk." She splashes her back, splashes in Benedict's direction for laughing, and then tries to grab Abby in a headlock and dunk her under the waves. Jerk.