c_baptiste (c_baptiste) wrote in palaislands, @ 2013-06-02 20:01:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | christoph baptiste |
Monday, June 3
Who: Christoph
Where: Near the Dew Drop, Empyrean Island
When: 3:00am
What: Introducing Christoph
The waves curled up into their white crests in three our four rows from the shore before reaching the water's edge gently, and then retreating once more. It was a crescent moon tonight, which stood out brightly among the glittering stars. On this side of Empyrean, there was little light pollution. The only light was coming from behind Christoph at the Dew Drop, about a hundred feet back on the beach. Music was playing and people could be seen moving in the lights; could be heard laughing and partying.
Christoph had left the party for a few moments on his own. It was warm out, with a very light breeze passing over the water an swaying the palm trees. The night was crystal clear, including the storm far off to the West. Little flashes of lightning looked like strobe lights flashing on the horizon of the water. Every now and then, when it flashed just right, he could see the island of Little Eden silhouetted.
From this beach, he could even look out an see Baptiste Island, which belonged to his family, and perhaps one day to him. Baptiste Manor, or castle, depending on what you wanted to call it, could be seen as a pinnacle of light on the highest point of the island. Christoph eyed it as he took a deep swig from the Dos Equis he was holding in his right hand.
Because it was warm, he was only wearing a pair of skinny white jeans that had been cut off just below his knees, and a sleeveless jean vest that was undone and open down the front. The jeans were low-rise, exposing the elastic of a pair of red CK briefs. The white sand was cool beneath his feet, and as he walked, he purposely dug his toes into it.
Finally, he tore his eyes away from Baptiste Island and looked back at the Dew Drop. He had walked further than he intended, but he was tipsy, so he didn't care much. Snickering at his ability to walk so far, he tripped over a mound of sand (which had probably been a sandcastle at some point) and fell on the wet sand, about a feet away from the water's edge. The first thing he did was make sure his beer bottle was held in a way where it wouldn't spill.
"Fuck," he said to himself. No one's here to see that shit. He didn't spill one drop. He laughed at himself as he pushed himself up on his elbows, taking another swig from the beer in celebration of the fact that he didn't spill any. Sometimes the night scared him, but tonight, with the crescent moon right above him, and the stars glittering brightly, it was actually bright enough to see. It wasn't such absolute darkness to cause that unwanted feeling of panic.
With a soft sigh, Christoph laid back on the sand, not caring that his hair was getting wet, that his jean jacket was seeping through with water, and that his white jeans would become see-through from getting wet. He set his beer next to his hip and folded his hands beneath his head and stared up at the beautiful sky, ignoring the muted sounds of thunder that got carried over the water and broke with the waves at shore.