beach

@⬙ ﹕ puppeteer. Minjae adjusts the sunglasses perched on his face as he follows Dalbit down the length of the beach. After the first few steps he stops at the feeling of sand between his toes. It's... a bit unpleasant. He finds that he doesn't particularly like the sensation as he shakes the sand from his flip-flops (what an unstable piece of footwear) and starts walking again, only for more sand to slip under his feet. Minjae sighs and forces himself to accept that this is just what the beach is going to be like.

He hums in response to Dalbit's words as they make there way to a small section of the beach with more sand and several rocks. They're not right up against the shore, but now that they're closer to the water Minjae can feel the moisture in the air on his skin. Although the sun beams hot overhead, the cool sea breeze helps to temper it.

"No, I've never built a sandcastle," Minjae says, tilting his head at Dalbit's grinning expression. He shakes his head before scanning the area again. He spots the same kids that Dalbit had seen, packing sand into a bucket before turning it over. They slap the bottom of the pail before lifting it up to reveal a shaped mound of sand; one corner of the "castle" is too dry and crumbles without support, causing one of the children to exclaim loudly that they have to do it over. "Have you?" he asks, turning back to Dalbit.

As he tries wiggling the sand out of his flip-flops again Minjae decides to just remove them. It's marginally less uncomfortable that way.

He isn't sure what to do next. Does he sit down? Do they need buckets? He looks increasingly awkward just standing in the sand and not doing anything.

@◆ ﹕ snake eyes. Dalbit makes sure that he isn’t walking ahead of his companion ever since they’d left his car, initially out of courtesy, but seeing Minjae taking a moment to let the beach wash over his senses brings a tender smile to his lips. It reminds him of the first time he’s gone on a solo drive down here, with no purpose but to familiarize himself with the town behind the wheels, but it’s this very place that made him realize that it isn’t all that bad outside the city. That the outskirts—if he could even consider this one—isn’t all evil and grim and all he was conditioned to believe.

His favorite aspect of the beach, when it’s as bright and sunny as it is now, is the balance found on the shores: how it houses enough people to be lively but not suffocating, nature sounds blending with one another in harmony, water against land, well-defined shadows cast under the warm sun rays.

He responds with an agreeing hum. “It’s nice,” he ends up saying aloud, wishing that he’d stop confining himself too often within the city borders. “Sometimes I forget that this place even exists, to be honest with you. So thank you for reminding me.”

The best spot, Minjae had requested from him, and Dalbit can’t bring himself to admit that he… is just as lost. He’s able to navigate his way, sure, but how exactly do you know what a good spot is to begin with? He makes his way down tentatively, observing what people are doing on the sands while checking in on Minjae every now and then to make sure that they don’t accidentally lose each other. It’s only when he sees a few kids collecting buckets of sand and seashells that a small idea crosses his mind—and so he bends down and brushes his fingertips against the grains, before settling for a spot a safe distance away from the water, the surrounding grains as clean as it could get, and a handful of pretty rocks laid out by the coast.

He turns to his companion with a wide grin on his face as he asks, “Have you ever built a sandcastle before, Minjae?”

@⬙ ﹕ puppeteer. Minjae can taste the salt of the air on the back of his tongue when breathes in. The sound of the tide rushing in and slowly ebbing back into the ocean is loud, but in a muted sort of way that isn't overwhelming. On top of that is the call of seagulls and the humming of vehicles passing behind the sidewalk that borders the sand. He closes his eyes for a moment to take it all in.

"It's less busy than I assumed it would be." he says when he opens his eyes again.

The surrounding area isn't empty by any means. There are some people dotting the expanse of the shoreline, families and couples with their blankets spread out on the sand, or walking down the stretch of land from one end to the other. Minjae even spots an older man with a clunky pair of headphones on holding a metal detector over the sand as if to find buried treasure.

It's not Minjae's usual "scene," if you can call it that. Too open (no trees or buildings), too unstable (sand everywhere), too... pointless. The beach doesn't serve any purpose to him. But that's why he's here in the first place, he supposes; to realize that maybe it doesn't need to have a purpose for him to enjoy it. Minjae's not sure yet though. They've only just arrived.

He turns to look at his companion, "You should lead the way. I'm not sure where the best... spot is."

@◇ ﹕ abyss. [ dated :: year 2016 ]

Often times, Seoah wondered what it would feel like to simply lose herself in the sea.

Where she stood, she couldn't see beyond the horizon. If she floated along with the waves four years ago rather than letting her feet rest on land, would she find a place entirely different from where she had been born in? These were thoughts that were of no use, but lingered nonetheless, in the back of her mind, surfacing only in moments of silence—which she found to be quite frequent, when the sound of her own music no longer filled her ears. What difference did it make from when she had been nothing but a bird in a cage for so many years? Silence had been her company, when she wasn't on stage. It was where her life began, and where her life ended.

Sometimes, she truly wondered what it would have felt like, had she succumbed completely to the silence. If to live was to perform, what would happen if she had only stopped singing?

(She wasn't quite ready to find out just yet.)

With a soft sigh, she walked down the shore, feet bare as she held her sandals with one hand, the other tucking her hair behind her ear in order to stop from flying over her countenance. Her feet buried easily in the sand, the breeze making her skirt dance in the wind. The sun was setting in the distance, casting an orange hue over the world. With how the world looked in her eyes right now, one might even think that this world was merely a painting and not the reality she threaded.

Was there something wrong with her then, when this sight had only made her heart ached?

(She hoped /she/ could have seen this. Had /she/ even known what this looked like before she died?)

But as she walked even further down the shore, a crouched down figure soon entered her line of sight, hovering over a turtle. If she strained her ears enough—eyebrows furrowing as she did so—she thought she could hear a voice, a... one-sided conversation?

She found herself strangely intrigued. Curiously, she moved forward, closer to where the stranger had been crouched over. But she didn't come too close, fearing that perhaps the stranger might notice her. Instead, she stood where she was, a few feet away from the man, merely watching and listening as he... conversed with the animal? A mutant then, that was certain, or was he simply the type to talk to those who wouldn't talk back?