A. 03.08 [The last time Sylvain had made it to the beach, they had been at war. Dedriu had been under siege, and they'd all been scrambling to protect it and save its leader. In all honesty, he hardly remembered the fight -- he hardly remembered many fights in specific details. But he could recall the seaspray. It had smelled good, at least when he could find some place without the smell of smoke and decay. The water had sparkled beneath the warm sun, looking almost green -- outside of the places where it wasn't thick and red with blood.
Olivine's beach is nothing like that. The sun was hardly visible behind the thick veil of clouds. Sylvain has to wear his jacket out -- between the water off the waves and the temperature in the air, it feels almost as cold as Gautier tended to. The water is murky and grey.
But the seaspray was still nice, and he was certain that it would only get better as winter gave way to spring, and spring to summer. And while he was trying to take Jane's advice and focus on one step at a time, he can't help but look forward to it. For the first time in weeks, months perhaps, he felt faintly optimistic.]
B. 03.09 [Realistically, it was too cold to go out into the water. Even if it was slightly warmer than the day prior, Sylvain was still wearing a jacket with his shorts. But as Claude had said time and time again, Faerghans were born with ice in their veins. And he'd been stupid enough to jump in colder water than this.
Not that's he's immediately plunging in. Rather, he has a towel laid out on the beach, and a rather confused looking Pyroar nosing at the sand. Beside him, Inda is hard at work building a sand castle, or at least whatever she seems to consider one.
Slipping off his jacket, he puts it over the Steenee's teeny shoulders. It practically overwhelms her, but she seems to appreciate it anyway. She waits patiently while Sylvain rolls up the sleeves for her, then gets back to work on her sand castle.
Content that Inda was comfortable for the time being, Sylvain turns back to the sea. Without the jacket, his chest is now bare, and he can feel just how damn cold it really is. He doesn't care. He kicks off his shoes and breaks into a sprint, splashing through the water up to his thighs before the sand and rock beneath the surface slow his progress. His teeth are already starting to chatter, but he keeps on until a wave dunks him fully under.
When the surf finally pushes him back to shore, he's laughing.]
Olivine Time
[The last time Sylvain had made it to the beach, they had been at war. Dedriu had been under siege, and they'd all been scrambling to protect it and save its leader. In all honesty, he hardly remembered the fight -- he hardly remembered many fights in specific details. But he could recall the seaspray. It had smelled good, at least when he could find some place without the smell of smoke and decay. The water had sparkled beneath the warm sun, looking almost green -- outside of the places where it wasn't thick and red with blood.
Olivine's beach is nothing like that. The sun was hardly visible behind the thick veil of clouds. Sylvain has to wear his jacket out -- between the water off the waves and the temperature in the air, it feels almost as cold as Gautier tended to. The water is murky and grey.
But the seaspray was still nice, and he was certain that it would only get better as winter gave way to spring, and spring to summer. And while he was trying to take Jane's advice and focus on one step at a time, he can't help but look forward to it. For the first time in weeks, months perhaps, he felt faintly optimistic.]
B. 03.09
[Realistically, it was too cold to go out into the water. Even if it was slightly warmer than the day prior, Sylvain was still wearing a jacket with his shorts. But as Claude had said time and time again, Faerghans were born with ice in their veins. And he'd been stupid enough to jump in colder water than this.
Not that's he's immediately plunging in. Rather, he has a towel laid out on the beach, and a rather confused looking Pyroar nosing at the sand. Beside him, Inda is hard at work building a sand castle, or at least whatever she seems to consider one.
Slipping off his jacket, he puts it over the Steenee's teeny shoulders. It practically overwhelms her, but she seems to appreciate it anyway. She waits patiently while Sylvain rolls up the sleeves for her, then gets back to work on her sand castle.
Content that Inda was comfortable for the time being, Sylvain turns back to the sea. Without the jacket, his chest is now bare, and he can feel just how damn cold it really is. He doesn't care. He kicks off his shoes and breaks into a sprint, splashing through the water up to his thighs before the sand and rock beneath the surface slow his progress. His teeth are already starting to chatter, but he keeps on until a wave dunks him fully under.
When the surf finally pushes him back to shore, he's laughing.]