oceancove

Who: Eilís, Anyone
When: Sunday, April 24th. Early evening.
Where: The beach.
What: A dryad being silly. XD
Rating: PG at the moment.
Status: Ongoing, open to anyone!

( The ocean had always held a profound sense of mystery as far as Eilís was concerned. )

Who: Eilís, Eamon Flood
When: Tuesday, April 19th. Night.
Where: The forest.
What: Eamon meets a dryad for the first time.
Rating: PG
Status: Ongoing.

The smile of the waxing moon favoured the mist-shrouded forests surrounding Ocean Cove. Its benevolence wended its way through trees and bushes, through glades and across clearings before swooping down in a soft conclusion at the Pacific kissed sands of the beaches that formed one of the locations borders. A veritable chorus of noise prevailed amongst it all; a delicate balance of crickets chirping, frogs croaking and birds cooing softly from their perches. If one were to wander there, in the very heart of the forest, they would notice an undeniable presence therein. The trees themselves almost seemed to breathe and stretch their branches with languid amusement, knowing that little more than a week would see their habitat teeming with other creatures who felt the solemn pull of the moon’s haunting call.

But there was more to the personification of the forest than just lunar appreciation. Mother Nature’s children roamed here and there, playing their games and singing their songs as they lived out their life in peaceful contemplation far away from the harmful imposition of mankind. A pair of pale, almost colourless eyes, inquisitive and bright, glanced around amongst the emerald glossy leaves that stood out in the unnatural light afforded by the moon. Soft, quick footsteps scurried through fallen leaves and rustling grasses before the even softer sound of someone climbing a tree joined the nocturnal orchestra.

The soloist, a skinny-limbed girl dressed strangely in a combination of furs sewn together with twine to form short shorts worn in conjunction with a very old and faded KISS t-shirt, crouched on the first branch. One of her hands rested almost negligently between her bare feet whilst the other perched atop her bended knee, her toes gripping onto the rough bark of the oak as she surveyed the clearing she had just vacated. Tilting her head carefully to one side as she listened to the forest, her midnight black tresses seemed almost an extension of the network of twigs and leaves that surrounded her, hiding her from the sight of anyone who might have been wandering about on the ground.