paradisalogs | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She laughs too, then.]

You know, that'd almost be worth seeing.

Almost, but I'm hoping to avoid it entirely.

Maybe someone'll talk her down.

I'll talk to her fiancé.

No offense, but I get the feeling she wears the ludicrously tight leather pants in that couple.

[Teasing:]

Is that any different from us?

I don't know. I kind of thought the tights were your department. [smirkity smirk]

Fair enough, but I don't think I'd ever seen a girl with jeans as tightly fitting as yours until I left Smallville. [Grin.] Plus, there's that whole Stiletto get-up.

But you have to admit: I definitely worked it.

Definitely.

Treasure those memories, at least. Because I'm not breaking that one out again.

That's alright. I think I've got us covered for superhero uniforms.

I really couldn't top that if I tried.

Spandex is a lot more practical than that plastic stuff, too.

... Annnd a little harder to come by. [At a Halloween store]

True. Actually, I don't know how I'm getting it fixed back home. It's easy enough to ask for a new one here, but I somehow doubt I'd ship it to mom every time I needed it fixed.