VENTURA COUNTY LINE — beach day human au

[SNAKEHISS]

The weekend temperatures soared high, causing sweltering heat to ravage the town and its citizens. When consuming tons of popsicles and running the A/C for hours on end wasn't enough to cool everyone down, they opted for the next best option there was: the beach.

Leviathan didn't care for the beach all too much; he hated the way that sand got stuck under his fingernails, clung to his scalp, and tracked all over his room after arriving home. The sun was also much too hot, causing the ground to burn his feet. His only saving grace was slathering on layers of sunscreen in order to protect his pale skin. His parents had also brought a cooler full of San Pellegrinos ( Melograno And Arancia flavored, his favorite ) to keep him satisfied.

The blonde-haired teen had daringly, bravely waded out past the shore break with his round inflatable tube in order to find a nice place to float about. Once he was far enough, he hopped in and adjusted himself so that his legs were splayed, feet dipping into the cool water. He exhales finally, blissfully closing his eyes and leaning his head back onto the inflated polyvinyl, "Ahh..."

This was nice, actually. Hopefully it would last.​

 

[SEDGEPOUNCE]

It was nice. Too bad it wouldn't stay that way.

Saburo loves the beach. He loves the warm sand underfoot and the cool, briny breeze pushing away from the ocean. He loves the sun, and the sun loves him, a testament to the smattering of freckles cresting his bright-cheeked, sun-kissed face. He's got a pair of sunglasses duct taped together at the nose and a battered old cooler filled with unhealthy snacks and a bunch of older siblings who are too old and studious to have any fun anymore, so he almost always goes alone. Every afternoon here bleeds away into the evening, lingering until the lifeguards close the shore and shoo him from the premises, fleetingly holding on to yet another perfect, lazy summer day.

He loves the beach. He loves bothering Leviathan at the beach just as much.

"SHAAAAARK!"

Levi will have barely a second to respond before something his pushing at him from under the water—but instead of a massive killer beast, it's Saburo, popping up from beneath the waves to flip Leviathan off of his inflatable tube. The sound of his wild, rancorous laughter can only be heard once all the panicked flailing and splashing has stopped, teeth a flash of stark white against his tanned complexion. But still, it's there, and he gives up the ruse as soon as Leviathan hits the water.

"Bwahaha! C'mon, Levi. You should've seen your face!" he wheezes triumphantly, clutching the floaty while trying to catch his breath.​

 

[WOLFSONG]

── .∘°°∘. ── "The faster you dig, the sooner you can swim," Ellisif observes helpfully, watching his freckled husband carve out a hole in the sand with both hands. He alternates between waving the fan over himself and Sunnvar, and when he isn't watching him work, he's looking out over the ocean. He recognizes Leviathan's pale-haired head out floating on an inflatable, and there's a loud shout before it capsizes suddenly. If it weren't for the telltale shape of Saburo emerging from the water where the float used to be, Ellisif might have been genuinely worried. Instead, he knows he'll have a bit of entertainment to pass the time. Leviathan will surely be exacting his revenge in short order, and as much as the teen tries Ellisif's patience, he can provide some amusement occasionally.

He glances back to Sunnvar, who's half under the shade of their umbrella and half in the sun. The skin along his lower back is reddening. "I can't tell if you're burning or if you're flushed from the heat," he says, using their foldable grabber to pick up the can of sunscreen. It's been a helpful investment— his belly's grown too round to reach his toes, and he doesn't want to rely on Sunnvar for everything, especially when Sunnvar needs his help. "My poor ginger," he chuckles as he leans to spray another layer over his back.
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 36 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge. — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know— he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel." — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you. — ☆☆☆☆☆ KITTING: He doesn't remember what it was like to be born. Coincidentally, that is the extent of his familiarity with kitting. At least he won't leave you without moral support.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you. — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[cottonsprig]

It goes without saying that Charlie enjoys the beach as much as any other teen around her age. The fresh, seabrook air, the often open skies, the friends and family that have to come with her because recent incidents call her a "liability" and she can't be left totally alone. The young girl idles somewhere between the expecting couple and the duo in the water, lounging back on a crumpled up towel and enjoying the warm sun. She startles when she hears Seburo's shout - however blue eyes catch the show in full and Charlie can't help the laughter that tumbles out of her mouth shortly thereafter.

"Careful, Seb!" she stands as she calls to the boys in the water, wandering closer to the shore. "Levi may be dumb, short tempered, bad at making friends, difficult, frustrating, but... uh..." she wades into the water but pauses, unable to complete her warning. It takes her a few long moments before she shrugs, "I don't know. He gels his hair a whole lot - it's probably as hard as a rock now. Maybe even a legal weapon at this point." Charlie decides that that's a good enough finisher, plunging into the waves to join her friends.​

 

[SUNNVAR]

Sunnvar, even with the root of his name, is not one for sunny days. He and Ellisif hail from a cooler climate, where the sun is weaker and paler than this. Though their travels have been good to them, he cannot say if their time at the beach will be among his favorites. The sand sticks unpleasantly beneath his toes, and though the roaring ocean waters speak of freedom and a grand journey beyond their shores, they are sullied by the crowds that litter their shores. If only they could have this place to themselves! Once, some time ago, they had. They would come upon a land that seemed distant and empty, which called to a lifetime before this one. A time where travel was not so simple, and life far more so. He misses a year that he had never seen– is that strange? Perhaps it was.

Even still he is content with this one. This life that he has carved, Ellisif at his side. Their relationship seemed unconventional to some; older couples looked strangely upon two men who looked as they do, one with a belly so rounded it might pop. He would trade it for nothing, though his heart's playful prodding makes him want to tackle him to the dirt as he once would have. When his condition were not so...fragile.

The sudden chill of the spray against his back has him laughing, startled away from the thoughts of devious revenge. He had not realized how warm his skin had become until there was the sharp contrast. He turns on his knees and frames his sand-covered palms around Ellisif's face to kiss him from forehead to mouth. "Ah, you only wish me to swim so you might see how terribly I burn. No, I think it would be best for the both of us that I sit beneath the shade with you." Pale blue eyes scan the water's surface, watching the teenagers for a brief moment before he returns to his digging. "Besides, I would not wish to come between them and their games."

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.10.2023 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘕 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. approx. 40 moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, monogamous. mate to wolfsong from 07.05.2023.  npc x npc, no larger family.
  —— has recently regained some of his earlier lightness, but maintains his steady facade.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.

• "speech"

​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

From behind a pair of dark sunglasses, hazel eyes stare out across the shoreline. The black-haired figure sits alone, perched upon a scratchy beach towel in the shade of a tattered umbrella. They had been invited by one of their friends, and had tagged along hoping that a beach day would help to ease some of their stress. As if. There are far too many other people here for it to count as any sort of stress relief.

Case in point: Charlie and Saburo. "Idiots," they mutter to themself, pulling their legs up to their chest. They wrap their arms around their knees, body curling in on itself as they watch the younger kids splash around and prank one another in the water. Greer rolls their eyes—the two in the water are lucky that the blonde hasn’t taken drastic measures yet, such as reaching over and smacking one of them. Their mouth curves into a frown at the thought.​

[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]​

​

 

[cygnetstare]

♱—— tw: mentions of dead bodies .... why are you like this cyg
cynthia doesn't get out much; owning one of very few mortuaries (perhaps only, now? she's not sure) in town and being very strict about who you hired doesn't allow for a lot of free time. late summer is undoubtedly the worst time to have such a job, though—people seemed to just up and die in droves, speaking nothing of the ... unique time constraints on embalming august heat produced. she has some rather terrible memories of hot summers when she worked as a medical examiner; that alone almost makes the extra training to become a mortician worth it. as such, she's retreated to the beach alongside much of the town, careful to slather her delicate skin in sunscreen and hide out beneath a very large umbrella. she's set herself up next to those she knows, occasionally glancing at the teenagers goofing off with a reserved amusement.

given how much information about skin cancer she'd had drilled into her head getting her degree, she's made herself a relative home beneath her overlarge umbrella—a couple of large neon-turqoise beach bags that remind her of her crocs at home flank one side of her chair, a blue cooler the other. heavy-lidded pale eyes are only half paying attention to the kids' antics, so she only catches a bunch of splashing and shouting. cynthia sinks lower into her beach chair, feeling relatively relaxed, one hand reaching towards the cooler to retrieve a bottled coffee. she flicks her hair lazily over her shoulder, glancing over towards where ellisif and sunnvar are relaxing themselves. "tell me about it," she calls to them when she picks up ellisif's remark on the other's reddened back, quickly checking to make sure her own body is entirely out of the sun; though she's been soaking herself in sunscreen and hiding out beneath the umbrella, you can never be too careful.

the two men may less notice her words and more notice the atrocious beach outfit cynthia has chosen; she's attired in black leggings that cover her from toe to waist, a ring bikini top, red exercise shorts with white piping—and that's not the end of it. a disturbing green-and-pink printed shirt hangs loosely off her thin frame, a variety of necklaces concealing the raised scar on her throat; but worst of all are her shoes, clashing blue things that are shaped in such a way that they form a toed foot instead of a rounded shoe. she pops the lid off of her coffee and takes a sip, glancing with a weird sort of amusement at the affectionate pair; she has not chosen to swim either. for one thing, she would burn equally as horribly, and for another, water reminds her mostly of drownings.

"ayuh, i'm inclined to agree with ya," she replies with the gravelly maine accent living here hasn't made a dent in; cynthia's sounded like she smokes three packs a day since she was eleven, "ain't just the burnin' neither. beaches always remind me of floaters—damn, i could tell ya some stories 'bout those from back when i was a medical examiner," she speaks blithely, unaware that others (nearby greer included) may not want to hear these gruesome facts, though her nose wrinkles slightly at the memories.

---

┏━⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊ OOC ☽ ◯ ☾ INFORMATION₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆━━━━━┓ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ☄. *. ⋆♱･ﾟ:

• ooc: i have no idea how to write humans sorry
  

• 

• ♱ cygnetstare — for their downy kitten-fur and perceptiveness (or uncanny gaze) she/they ; afab gender apathetic — windclan — tunneler — 34 ☾s —— cygnetstare is a corpselike chimera, split between long albino fur and a short black smoke pelt; their eyes are an unsettling pink. her creepy demeanour distracts from a strange fascination with death and an obsessive loyalty to windclan. —— smells like grave-dirt and blood ; sounds like vc tbd ; speech in #BF959C, thoughts in #000000 —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; will start fights ; won't flee unless ordered ; won't show mercy ; will kill or maim —— pansexual panromantic monogamist, single, not looking ; open to friendships, enemies, casual interactions, long-term romance, plotting ; not open to unplanned battles, flings penned by dejavu— desklamp9 on discord for plots

• battle stuff goes here for fights

​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ I AM SORRY THIS IS ALWAYS HOW IT GOES ❀❀​

---

periwinklebreeze & 12 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner​

---

Peri isn't quite sure at this point how he'd gotten here - had someone invited him to the fun, had he simply wanted to tan? Or perhaps he'd simply tagged along after Greer, as he is wont to do. Such thoughts slip idly through his mind like water through his hands, and really, he figures it doesn't matter much in the end. Pale skin isn't so much as coated with sunscreen even as he sits upon the sidelines, toes burrowed into the damp sand, and pastel swim shorts and crop-top on display. He knows he should've put some on, really, but he's never been one to burn, and so he's forgotten yet again. He'll simply be a few shades more tan in the end - he only hopes it won't affect whatever shoot he has next.

A quiet laugh slips out before he can stop it, lashes fluttering as blue eyes all but sparkle - his smile is a shy thing, flushed and nervous, all full of dimples and too-sharp canine teeth. Gaze flicks towards his friend every so often, lingering only when he thinks the others aren't looking, as though he is being subtle about it - he is not. "I d-dunno... it looks l-like it might b-be fun," a playful tease, though he really does mean it - he almost joins them, but thinks better of it. He's not certain his intrusion would be welcome anyways.

Instead he falls back with a sigh and a loud thump, ignoring the sand that immediately gets caught in dark curls, humming absently. He loves the summer sun, the het - the feeling of it soaking into him down to his very bones. It hardly even bothers him when he feels scorched, burnt, or jokingly enough, as though he's been tossed into hell. The warmth is comforting anyways, even in its intensity. If only he could stay like this forever, he thinks.

— the wind blows loudest when you've got your eyes closed ❀

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: —
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a lithe figured black and white tom with a false-pointed pattern and clear blue eyes that gleam periwinkle in the right lighting. he seems perpetually worn and exhausted, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and a slouched figure. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with daisies.
  
  — physically medium && mentally easy && pacifist
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#ccccff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[LUCKYPAW]

Even with little else to do with the day, Lucien hadn't exactly thought about heading to the beach that day on his own; instead, he'd been invited along with a few other people he knew, and he'd already weaseled his way out of too many other outings lately to scrounge up a valid excuse. Armed with a bag practically as big as he is full of anything he could possibly need, he'd set his towel out alongside the rest of his family's belongings and had taken up camp far enough from the surf so that his sandcastle building wouldn't be interrupted by any errant waves. With little in the way of ornamentation besides a few nearby shells, it's not winning any aesthetic awards, though his aim is more function than anything, wanting to make sure that each tower is adequately fortified so it doesn't collapse upon itself. Softly patting the sand into place, a motion out towards the sea catches his eye - some of the older kids out there swimming, no doubt. Though clad in his own green-and-black swim shirt and shorts, it's more for protection from the sun than anything; he's not really one for swimming, or even wading, not when there's so many creatures that could be out there. Not to mention rip currents - just like that, and you could be washed out to sea!

Methodically, he begins to shave away bits of sand from the closest tower, carving in a faux-stone texture that he's sure will elevate his creation to the next level, though his work stutters to a halt at the yell from somewhere out in the ocean - shark! Despite not being close enough to touch the water, Lucien jumps to his feet, glancing out across the waves even as he tries to speed the other way, practically tripping over himself in his haste to get away. "Shark?!" he yelps, eyes instinctually seeking out the waves. It's not that he wants to see that deadly fin sticking out of the water, but knowing it's there is better than not, and as he glances back over his shoulder, it's a horrifying scene - Leviathan being pulled to his doom, snatched right from his inner tube. Had it eaten him right then and there? Or just taken a limb, and left Leviathan to flounder and bleed out? And what about everyone else out there? What if the action attracted other sharks, too? Where was a lifeguard when you needed one? Glancing about frantically, nobody else on the shore seems to have made any moves to help, which - well, Lucien isn't doing anything either, but he's not an adult! He doesn't know what to do in the situation of guy-you-sort-of-know just got attacked and maybe maimed (maybe eaten) by a shark!

By the time he's trying to decide whether to actually go get someone on the off-chance that he really was the only one who's heard Saburo, another sound simultaneously floats across the waves and from somewhere closer - laughter. Laughter? From Charlie, who is heading towards the water, and from Saburo, who says something about the look on Leviathan's place, and then - it's finally starting to click. There hadn't been a shark - it had just been some sort of prank, some attempt to scare the teen, and though the tension begins to fade from Lucien, he's still on high alert, still scanning every far-off crest. Above all else, he feels silly having taken the joke seriously (even if sharks are nothing to joke about!), and as his already sun-kissed face begins to flush even more in embarrassment, he decides to abandon his sandcastle for now to take a break, an indignant pout beginning to form on his face. Trying to act as casual as somebody who'd just suddenly jumped up into a run and then froze can, he makes his way past a few others lounging in the sun, doing his best to ignore any looks sent his way. Settling down on the towel he'd laid out earlier, Lucien rummages through a cooler his family had brought, retrieving a Capri-Sun to sullenly sip on as he watches the older kids splash about in the water.​

[ PENNED BY HIJINKS ]​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

It doesn't take long before paradise is interrupted. "AHHHHH!" Leviathan shrieks as he's shoved off of his tube and into the water, his arms flailing about and hitting the water as he tries to keep himself above the surface. His heart pounds like a frightened rabbit, a frown tugging on his lips as he frantically looks around him for a gray fin slicing through the water, though he only finds an obnoxious Saburo who looks as if he's going to pass out from laughter. "You-" Levi growls as he angrily wipes drops of water from his forehead. "I ought to wring your neck for that!" He declares, though he makes no threatening moves; purely a boy of all bark and no bite.

He can hear the playful jeering from Charlie as she called to them from the shallows, a visibly peeved look smeared across his pale features. "Oh, shut up." Levi grumbles, doubtful that she could even hear him over the crashing of the ocean waves.

His gaze snaps back in the direction of the other teenager now, the one who had so rudely butted his ugly mug into his personal bubble and ruined everything. "Give me that back 'n go bother someone else, yeah?" He snorts, aiming to clasp his hands onto the polyvinyl surface and rip the tube from Saburo.​

 

[SEDGEPOUNCE]

Levi, rising from the water like a cat who just fell into a pool, turns the fury of a thousand weasels upon Saburo with a single glare. Water falls from his tow-headed hair, which Saburo eyes curiously—only a few locks have broken free from their manicured hold, dissolved by the brine. Charlie's right. He really does gel his hair a lot.

"Just don't headbutt me!" Saburo pleads dramatically, throwing up his hands in surrender as Levi snatches his floatie back. He plasters the back of his hand to his forehead as if he were a Silver Age actress about to faint. "You could do some serious damage with that! For real, bro, it looks like a blonde wall of concrete."

At this point, Saburo throws himself behind Charlie—who has finally waded close enough into the water—scrunching himself down to hide behind her back and peek over her shoulder. "Protect me, Charlie! You're the only one who can!" he cries in jest. The ocean buffets his legs and at times threatens to unroot him from the sand, but the bit always comes first, so Saburo prevails. Even though he'll eventually get bored of harassing Levi and will trail off to do something else soon. Probably. Maybe.​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Gwenevere (though she often prefers Gwen, she has found) is not particularly fond of the ocean. The vastness of its waters are intimidating; each rolling wave laps hungry at the sand as if it would pull the whole earth beneath its surface if it had the power. And it does have the power, she knows (for she often browses Wikipedia's list of natural disasters), and that power is much greater than her own. She imagines swimming through a tsunami, her thin pale arms cutting fruitlessly through miles of water indifferent to her struggle. Rip currents, too, scare her more than she would ever admit; the ocean's grip on her stronger than the one she commands over herself. It's a lot for a girl as young as her to think about, and so she is content to anchor herself to her towel next to Lucien's, already sipping a Capri-sun when he jolts out of his seat at the mention of a shark.

Gwen cranes her neck, trying to find any sign of a fin gliding through the water, but her search is without success. When Lucien paces back to his towel, she understands why. "Sharks aren't actually that deadly, you know," she offers her brother, sipping the yellow straw from her juice pouch in contemplative punctuation. "You really have to watch out for rip currents and things like that." Like she has so diligently done. Her bi-color gaze falls on Lucien's sandcastle with quiet interest. "Nice shells," she murmurs, eyeing the stony texture. "We could make a moat for it."​

​