Tuesday, September 1, 2015

[Scene in progress]

Elijah
[Per+alert, pay attention to the road, kid, +2 diff(App4 chick sunbathing is distracting)]

Dice: 6 d10 TN8 (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 7) ( botch x 2 )

Elijah
[Dex+athletics- I meant to do that]

Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (2, 4, 9, 9) ( success x 2 )

Elijah
Serafíne is sunbathing somewhere in the park.

Elijah had been running, not that he is a particularly adept runner, or really even particularly remarkable in regards to his relative speed, but he does happen to last a little longer than most people would in this weather. He wasn't the kind of guy who would train for a marathon, but something got stuck in his head that made him want to- namely, being stuck in a class about gemstones referred to as "Rocks for Jocks" and being told that there was no way in Hell that he could actually survive running a marathon without tapping out or throwing up. Seeing as how he was never one to settle for being told he couldn't do something, he was out running.

He was running and he'd come across Serafíne sunbathing. Now, grant you, he's seen Sera in relative states of mostly dress or dress that rounds up to being clothing but there's a point when you're running or exercising that your brain goes fuck this nonsense, you need to put your energy into moving and not thinking. And eventually, you hit the point where the only thing your brain can process is obscenities and breathing. And in that moment, amidst his running, amidst the appreciation of whatever she'd been wearing and wherever his imagination was going, Elijah failed to notice that there was a park bench in front of him.

Which he ran headlong into.

Tumbled. Rolled, rolled, rolled some more and almost took out a cyclist who happened to be passing on the trail. The cyclist veered, nearly toppling into a tree but, instead, heading straight for the bushes, which made someone making out with his girlfriend (second base, wooo!) squeak the sound that a romantically frustrated teenager can make. The chain reaction was set into motion and Elijah, for his part, was content to sit on the ground and be torn between Serafíne, who is sunbathing, and the chaos he caused.

"Hi."

Serafíne
What she is wearing is a cheetah print bandau style bikini top and a pair of daisy dukes, unzipped and unbuttoned, so short that the pockets are visible below the hem of the shorts.  Some sort of bikini bottom beneath, slightly mismatched from the top.   Her skin loves the sun, absorbs it and reflects it back into the world.  She is beautifully tan everywhere one can see, and her dyed-blond hair is brighter for the sun in the sun.  Or perhaps the bleaching is recently refreshed.

There she is, sunglasses covering her eyes, hair pulled back, feet bare, flat on the slightly nubby surface of an old white coverlet turned picnic blanket, alone for the nonce.  There's a picnic basket at the foot of the blanket, closed right now.  No visible evidence to show how much she's still hurting.

But she is.

"Hi."

Okay, moving a little slow as she turns her head to regard Elijah, neatly ignoring the chaos too.

Maybe she's hung over.

"You put on

Serafíne
"You put on quite a show."

Elijah
"They totally just put park benches in random places sometimes, It's a city initiative," or I totally wasn't paying attention to the fact that there was a park bench in front of me and I caused the human equivalent of a five car pileup. He smiles, something bright and shameless, because he didn't have time to be ashamed right now of being just a tad unobservant.

He catches that she's moving a little slowly, though, cocks his head tot he side but doesn't say anything. There's lots of reasons a person could be moving slowly, right? His first thought is that she's moving hangover slow, but then again- has he ever seen Sera hung over? Wouldn't magic kind of negate the need for having a hangover unless one wanted a hangover?

He does get up, grass stains on his knees and he'll no doubt end up with a bruised elbow, or bruises somewhere because he'd actually been making decent stride before the unfortunate meeting with a parkbench occurred.

"But yeah, I... uh... that was completely unintentional. The you can't run a marathon gauntlet has been thrown, once Dan and I went out when I'd had a shit night sleeping and we hiked and just did shit and it was meditative so I figured that running could actually be a good alternative to getting shithoused regularly."

Serafíne
"Mmm." She hums back.  Agreement or acceptance or something of virtually everything he said.  This hum that is physical and sub-liminal, somehow.  Held in the instertial space that always feels somehow beneath her skin but above her body, this framing awareness of the world she carries like a second skin.

"I like to rockclimb.  Jim was into yoga in the fucking park.  Are you really thinking about training for a marathon?  You might want to take up something safer than running, yeah?"

Elijah
"Given my propensity for running into things?"

Serafíne
"Naw.  Given the universe's propensity for throwing park benches right in front of you."

This quick skim of her mouth, the briefest flash of her teeth behind glossed lips: perfection.

Elijah
"The universe just knows- Poirots and park benches are natural enemies," he grins, playful, brushes off his knees and checks out the slight scrape on one of his elbows. "I like the idea of trail running. It's running, but through nature. Or those obstacle courses people do? Those seem cool, but I figure why fuckin' climb a fake tree when you can climb an actual tree."

Scoots over, carefully pets her hand for a moment before settling in, comfortable, nearby. He establishes where he is, what the space is, whatever comes next.

"I didn't know you rock climbed," he said.

Serafíne
That draws out her smile again: quick and sure.  Almost viciously confident, the slash-and-draw of it beneath the bright, reflective opacity of her dark glasses.  Something animal about it, even with the sort of slow-glandular movement that most people assume is the visible evidence of one of those knock-you-on-your-ass hangovers.  Maybe an acid hangover.

Elijah pets her hand, which she finds a little bit weird, but doesn't seem to mind, and settles in.  Probably on the expanse of that nubby coverlet.  There's room for another body, another several bodies, that hasn't been filled yet.

"There's a helluva lot you don't know about me, kid."

Says our Sera, who is older than he is and rough-voiced today, muscles bunching in her stomach as she shifts her body to sort of lean in his direction.

"The idea of it and the fact of it are pretty different things.  If you like the idea, fuck.  Give it a try.  Maybe you'll like the idea of it more than the fact of it.  Maybe you'll like the fact of it more than the idea of it. Then you'll know."

Elijah
There's a helluva lot you don't know about me, kid.
"Do I get to find out?" the immediate response. Doesn't seem keen on not knowing something, but is incredibly interested in the idea of finding things out. Sera defies definition, she just is and there's layers. Beyond that, there's delight in his voice, somewhere in his eyes that make them more green than amber and the south creeps in because- well, because. Doesn't need a reason to have origins.

"I think I like the idea of a lot of things, but find myself missing the mark on the actuality of them. I didn't think I'd like camping though, and I fucking love camping so maybe trail running will be like that," he said, paused and grinned, "about a week ago I ran into this one chick and we ended up racing in the forest, she was like this wood nymph- I think she's still in my phone. I figure if trail running is anything like that, I'll like it."

A second, then?

"I'd like to find out more about you, at least. I want to know a person and not the idea of a person."


Serafíne
"If I were you I'd stick to chasing wood nymphs over mere trail running any day.  If that girl's in your phone you should give her a call.  See if she wants to race through the forest again.  See where it leads."

This neat little shrug of her shoulders, mild, incisive, the movement cushioned at the edge of her range of motion because: ow.  Ow ow ow.

"Or where it ends."

She looks: up then, and then, away.  Back towards the sky where the failing sun reflects in the dark surface of her lenses.  Doesn't seem at first to be reactive or reacting to his comment that he wants to know a person and not the idea of a person, except:

"Alright.  Ask me any question you want.  I'll answer. Anything in the fucking world."

Elijah
Ask her anything?

It's not a moment where the gauntlet is thrown, not something that seems like a challenge- an aha, I can ask whatever I want! moment. Not a triumph, just an offer. He perks up, but for all his delight and eagerness he's hesitant. There's no room for hesitation, though. Not in his mind, at least.

But he hesitates anyway. Any question, and she'd answer.

"What is..." he stops, "is it weird that now that I have the opportunity to ask anything I don't know what to ask?" Laughs because it's disarming, laughs to himself more than anything,. more an exhalation of breath than laughter.

"What do you dream about?"

Serafíne
(pause!)

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