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Post by FREY PATEL on Mar 14, 2012 17:43:39 GMT -5
It was probably all the open water that had him so jittery. He just couldn't keep still or quiet or just be. A near constant stream of words were running and twisting and crunching together under his breath. It was a fairly distracting task but he took the time to pause and nod whenever he heard some almost mangled version of his name.
His destination? Well, fuck if he knew.
All he had before him was some stretch of beach and scattered people. He paused, huffed, dug his toes into the sand. There were so many things he could be doing right now. He could – he could go mess with his miniature ships or maybe even a real ship. People were willing to pay for that sort of thing, you know, and he wasn't exactly in the most comfortable of financial situations.
Snorting, he pulled at his shirt and kicked off his shoes. If he was going to complain, he might as well do so in the water. And yet, he couldn't help but grin when the water licked at his toes.
Frey moved until the water brushed his navel, a stray shiver wrecking him every now and again as he adjusted to the water temperature. For a couple of minutes, he simply stood there. It was a pleasant feeling, being in the ocean. He breathed in the salty air and reached for the sky, back cracking as he did.
One more breath and he was ducking under.
♫ coast to coast the high seas echo "it's not you, it's me"
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Post by MIRABETH CALICO on Mar 17, 2012 0:18:23 GMT -5
With a taut stretch and a yawn the capricious archaeologist would pull herself away from her sandy slumber. Setting herself upright she inspected herself with a keen gaze, she couldn't recall at when she had drifted off, but she could assume not long as her body didn't seem to suffer any severe sun burn. Which was good, sun burn hurt like a cunt, and she despised the peeling of the skin. Caressing her plush skin she'd began to stare off into the waters, skimming the surface as she observed the ways the light danced on the water, a hint of a smile on her lips. This was the kind of life she wouldn't mind taking up, waking up to the glimmering waters of the ocean and having it's breeze gently curling around you.
She sat there for what seemed like decade, admiring the ocean's beauty, not really caring for anything more than it.
Hours dwindled by unnoticed before the woman would move, her limbs branching out in every direct as she shook them awake. The little tingling sensation pranced across her, waking her up even more as she pulled herself onto her feet. "Mmm," she'd mumble as she began brushing at the little speckles of beach matter stuck to her skin. She had a broad variety of choice things to do now that she was moving. Swimming, jogging, treasure hunting, manipulation, she was sporting a rather creative one piece swim suit, jet black, that might have shower a little too much skin. The type of showing that made heads turn. But she sided with swimming, it was getting a little toasty under the sun's beams.
The water felt divine against her skin, the cool waves breaking against her skin leaving a tingling sensation. She moved slowly into the waters, leaving her body time to adjust before she dived fully underwater. She had a thing for diving, it was one of the most mystifying things to her, the ocean was such a beautiful wonderland and she would bare no shame in admitting it. Sifting through the waters she found herself a comfortable spot, not too deep and not too shallow, to begin at. She enjoyed watching the ocean floor expand before her eyes.
At one point she had come upon another diver, possibly, his hair a beautiful shade of red, and she spun over so that she was swimming upside down, and waved. Though not entirely sure he would see it, or if his eyes were open, she as in a pleasant mood.
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Post by FREY PATEL on Mar 17, 2012 0:51:29 GMT -5
The water was cool and too calm for his anger. Here, beneath the waves, he felt like a king. Fingers reached for the ocean floor, so close yet so far. They craved to scoop up the sand, stir it up and create little clouds. A slow burn was starting in his lungs, pushing and whispering for air. He shut his eyes and floated. Resting there, he could practically feel the sand brushing his skin. It was – pleasant.
There were days where he felt as though he could stay under forever—just grow a set of gills and maybe some flippers or a tail and he would be on his way. Humanity was overrated. But then there were other things, things like boats and inventions and dogs and stars and maybe the ocean wasn't all he thought it was.
But oxygen was becoming a necessity. He didn't want to move.
It didn't last long. The burn became more urgent the longer he lingered. But he forced himself to hold it for a few more seconds, calmer than he could ever be on land. Then it was too much and air – oxygen – was a blessed relief. Sunlight stung his eyes and the sounds of the ocean and the people washed over him. His chestlungsthroat burned, so familiar that he relished in it. Yet he didn't stay above for long, just long enough to gather his breath and sink back under.
But this time he wasn't alone. A girl, pretty in her black suit, swam beneath him, giving a slow motion wave that only water could make graceful. He stretched a hand out, spread his fingers and curled them once, twice—a half-wave for his temporary ocean partner. Briefly he wondered if she felt for the ocean as he did, if that was why she had chosen to immerse herself.
The thought was soon swept away, as sure as the tide.
♫ coast to coast the high seas echo "it's not you, it's me"
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Post by MIRABETH CALICO on Mar 18, 2012 13:26:07 GMT -5
Once, twice, she counted the times he curled his hands. Then she counted his fingers, all five on one hand, all five on the other, that was nice, he had complete hands. She swam a little ahead of him, arms flicking out for more water to pull her forward, before looking back to him as she pointed behind her. An invitation to swim out a little further, together; in the ocean she knew it was safer in pairs than ever alone. There was a small pain in her chest, a modest burn that told her to get some more air, but she ignored it. She was capable of holding her breath for long times, longer than most humans could.
At times she just never wanted resurface, it was so much more peaceful down there under the sea. With it's artistic banks, unexplored boundaries, endless species and historical tales, but the world would always find a way to pull her back the the surface. She could only do her best to fight against natures ways, some nights she wished she was a born a mermaid. Not a fishman because she wouldn't enjoy being slimy or scaly.
The ocean was also quiet, caught in a perpetual silence untouched by humanity.
She would gesture one more time for him to come, a single finger curling one, twice, for him to come before she dove away. The pirate wasn't in a hurry, quite the opposite, but she didn't want to make him feel he had to follow along. It would be an enjoyable swim with or without company.
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Post by FREY PATEL on Mar 18, 2012 16:27:52 GMT -5
It took him a moment to realize the girl was curling her finger, inviting him to follow, to push out a little further. Beneath it he could feel the sense of adventure, of daring. It called to him, tempted him. He found himself giving a two-thumbs-up and a tight-lipped smile. An adventure always sounded nice, especially under the waves.
He allowed his legs to kick lazily, arms moving with a taste of that sluggishness. His body twisted as he followed her, performing minor stunts beneath the water. He figured it was the closest he would ever get to flying and that would have to be enough.
Fingers stretched and reached and he fell easily into a roll, legs barely helping it along. It wasn't until those fingers hit skin that he curled them shut, capturing the girl's ankle. With any hope, she wouldn't try for a kick to the face. He didn't hang on for long, just enough to get her attention before releasing and doing another roll – a silent challenge.
If he was going to have some company, there might as well be a little bit of competition to go on. He wouldn't mind an underwater stunt-fest. In fact, he was tempted to grin at the very idea. And that was about the time he realized his lungs were starting up that burn all over again.
His face scrunched and he focused on the girl. Cocking his head, he pointed toward the surface before granting her a peace sign and a grin. Up-righting himself, he kicked until the surface broke over his head and sound returned, oxygen taking his lungs. He took in the scents and sounds and just held it for a moment.
♫ coast to coast the high seas echo "it's not you, it's me"
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Post by MIRABETH CALICO on Mar 21, 2012 19:18:02 GMT -5
She wouldn't notice the red haired male following her for a few moments, until she peeked over her shoulder. A slightly bemused smirk bending her lips. The water was beckoning for her to go further, swim deeper, even against the burn of her chest. The hot flare spreading out a little, hissing, whining, telling her to just give up, even if she didn't want to. She wanted to stay under longer, much longer, just forget about oxygen and stay under. But that was not an option, because you'll always be pulled back to the surface.
She could feel the oxygen no longer making it's way to her brain, her head growing light and feathery. Shame. There was some sort of lost pride about giving up in front of someone, looking up to the glittery surface. Another beauty enhanced that much more by the ocean. And just before she kicked off there was that warmth of another person, peeking over her shoulder curiously.
Holding the index finger up she told him one moment, before she motioned to the surface. People got to breathe. Though it seemed he also needed to get a breather, she kicked up until the cold winds broke through her bubble. Soft breathes, oxygen began to pump through her again.
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Post by FREY PATEL on Mar 26, 2012 19:07:07 GMT -5
It was a curious thing, the girl rising from beneath the surf. His fingers curled and reached for the sky for what felt like the hundredth time. She was sucking oxygen in like she just couldn't get enough and it caused a smile to twist his lips. Maybe she understood the ocean after all. He was tempted to cup water in his hands and toss it her way. But that would be childish and uncalled for and all he wanted to do was run his mouth.
"Never seen you 'round here before. I'm Frey. Just Frey. And I've a dog but he's not around. Useless information, I know. But I've decided you're my unofficial swimming buddy and now we're getting to know each other a bit and maybe you should toss me a bone. Pluto would appreciate it a bit more though so I could always give it to him instead if you just so happen to not mind, yeah? It could be one grand time, I'll have you know."
He paused, inhaled, and laughed. The sun and salt stung his eyes and he could taste the salt on his lips, his tongue, and he couldn't have been happier. It felt good, letting out that rush of words. He didn't talk nearly as often as he would like; just didn't have the right amount of oxygen to keep it all going. And just like that he could imagine just how amazing it would be not to worry about silly things like breathing and exhaling and inhaling and being beneath the waves.
A tongue curled behind his teeth and he drifted a little closer to the girl, still grinning and bright and squinting. He had more to say, he could feel it pressing against the walls of his throat, climbing. He pressed his lips together and barely refrained from blowing a raspberry as some sort of ridiculous deterrent.
The world sure was nice that day.
♫ coast to coast the high seas echo "it's not you, it's me"
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