paradisalogs | Tropical Distractions

Entry tags:

Tropical Distractions

Who:Fred, friends and YOU
What: A bonfire and evening to enjoy with friends
When:Second evening after arriving
Where:Down at the Beach
Rating: PG?

All things considered, it didn't seem that threatening. But Fred would never sit all that well with being yanked into unfamiliar settings without permission, and this was no different. After the rising waters, they first few hours on the ship had been especially difficult. It brought back too many specific memories. Still, a lot had happened between then and now -- and after a few hours it at least felt like she could breathe again.

And there were things that held some appeal.

Like the beach. There were memories as well, much more pleasant memories. And unlike the four seasons room, which always felt a little less than real? Fred couldn't help but think all that water actually lead somewhere. The air certainly tasted real enough, hot and sticky on her tongue. Everything soon started to carry the slightest whisper of salt.

She'd spent the day with Wesley exploring, and somehow they'd tumbled their way into fishing. It was something she hadn't actively done in years, not since summers with her folks on the Gulf. But it all came back to her, and soon they'd caught more than she knew what to do with. Fred didn't recognize the species, but the locals assured her they were edible enough. One idea tumbled into the other, until a sturdy bonfire was lit against the fading afternoon light. A dozen fat fish sat wrapped in palm leaves around the base of the fire, and a cooler rested nearby filled with a variety of fruit and drinks.

All that remained was to jot an invitation in her journal to anyone that might be interested.

Fred moved to settle into one of the higher dunes, watching the tide as it came in again. She was still in her suit, a simple sarong knotted at her waist. It might get cooler later, but for now she was content to catch the last of the sun on her shoulder and enjoy the sound of the waves.

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Del hesitated at the edge of the fire, a wild-child with her dirty skin, baggy clothes, and fishnets.

Why was being human always so difficult. Why was it always so hungry so empty so itchy so full.

"Hello..." Her answer was dreamy and vague, even as her fingers tightened around the tentacle of her Ditto.

Fred took in the clothes, but she didn't comment on them. Not after all of her years with hardly anything more than a few roughly cobbled together skins. After a while, you just stopped judging.

Well, at least you stopped judging that. A few things came harder.

The soft voice barely carried over the crashing waves, but but it was enough.

"Decided to come down for the cookout? There's plenty here."

Del sniffed at the air - couldn't help the sound her stomach made. When was the last time she ate? Before... before here. Before kinds of people. Did cake count? It all got jumbled in times they weren't really times at all and made her had spin more then it ever did when she correctly remembered not to remember nearly anything at all.

"Cookout." Her Ditto formed a little question mark beside her, adding the inflection she forgotten words needed.

Back and forth, Fred's gaze moved between the two as they performed their part of the conversation in tandem.

"...cookout," she confirmed, wondering the best way to go about explaining things. "Wesley and I, we went fishing earlier. We caught more than we could possibly eat on our own. So we decided to see if anybody else was hungry."

Hungry. That was the knawing pain. Hadn't she already figured that out?

"There are no fish here." They were lost. Wasn't that the point? All gone away away away. At least Ditto tried to be fishy for her.

"...oh!" Fred might finally understand. Or at least be starting to.

"Well, there's fish here." She walked over to claim one of the smaller bundles, the first to be done. Letting it cool for a moment, Fred unwraps it before carrying it over in the leaf bundle it was cooked in, now a natural plate.

"Here."

She holds out her hands carefully - don't puck don't snatch be polite - being quiet and unassuming, even as her head spins a bit.

They didn't like it when she babbled here, they looked at her and made her feet try to fall off.

"Thank you..."

"There's no need to thank me, really."

Fred nodded at the bundle, her expression hopefully somewhat encouraging.

"Go on. It's fine...

At first her fingers were delicate, scooping up a tiny morsel and nibbling at it uncertainly. But she was hungry - very hungry. And this was delicious. At least, as delicious as her very empty stomach could possibly imagine.

Soon she was shoveling the fish into her mouth, heedless of burning herself or stomach cramps. Her Ditto, at least, seems content to simply sit there. She had remembered to feed it.

Barnabas had always yelled at her when she didn't.

Fred really wasn't the sort to mind. She spent a solid five years without the benefit of utensils, and she could hardly begin to judge anybody else. If anything, she was pleased to see the results of their efforts so clearly being enjoyed.

"There's more, if you want."

More? There's more? Del sends a glance at her little monster-thing (it doesn't speak words what does it say why can't she hear it where had the knowledge gone) who stared longingly at the fire and it's magical load of food.

"Please." Question mark. Exclamation point. "You're... from before. The place."

Fred takes that as a definite note of interest, and after one last look back over her shoulder she moves to the fire to claim another leaf-wrapped packet. This one is slightly larger.

After to checking to make certain it isn't too hot, she passes it over to the other woman.

"You mean Paradisa?"

Plucking it out of Fred's hands, she examines the new leaf, toying with the edges for a moment.

"And before again." This time she starts to split the food with her Ditto, passing flakes of fish over to waving tentacles.

That makes her pause, fingers briefly catching at the fabric at her waist as she watches the other woman feed her companion.

"...before, before?"

Del hesitates in the feeding, after a moment. Is she not supposed to do that, was it bad? She did something bad. She didn't understand this, with her stomach that hurt and her nose that itched and the breathing that always always always needed to be done and no fish. None none none.

"The... time." Question make.

Fred looked around them then, her arms wrapping loosely over themselves. Across the muted sky, the fire seemed to burn that much brighter.

"It's probably past six, now. At least if the sun works the same way here. Either way it'll be dark soon, but I don't think that's what you are asking.

Dark soon. Dark soon meant something... bad. That she couldn't quite grasp onto. Instead, she inched closer to her Ditto, letting it cuddle close to her side.

"Did it rain?"

Her gaze remains light on the other woman's face, working to understand.

"Not today, it didn't. I imagine it will sometime again, though."

"Imagining makes it so~" Right? Sometimes. The first stepishly.

Deciding this conversation might take a while, Fred moves to make a seat on the beach.

"I suppose that's true enough. At least every now and then. Do you imagine things?"

Del follows, a couple slow steps at time, and eventually settles in the sand leaning against her Ditto.

"I imagine make it so or more it's so and then I see it or I see it and it's never really so at all."

Fred takes that in.

"That's a mouthful and a mindful..."

"Sometimes my head is just too big for me." A sage nod, as Del starts to braid some of her Ditto's tentacles.

There's a laugh that follows then, bright enough to even startle Fred.

"Well that's one thing we've got in common."

"Is our common so commonly known~?" This felt better, with her tummy full and the sun not burning.

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fredless - 2012-04-28 03:23 (UTC) - Expand

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fishy_go_byebye - 2012-04-28 20:45 (UTC) - Expand

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