Some distance down the beach was a young woman and her castle. She was in a simple black dress, the neckline arching from one shoulder to the next to expose the pale expanse of her collar and sleeves that extended down to her elbows. Wanda's dark hair was tied up and away from her face where it danced lazily in the ocean breeze. Hands, decorated with various silver rings, meticulously placed chunks of sand into the monument and shaped it. Granted, the castle was no work of art, but it was a welcome distraction for Wanda as she escaped the buzz of the urban heartbeat and the thoughts of proximity that constantly berated her.
Music hummed out of her mouth, a Sokovian tune she grew up with that Wanda couldn't quite remember the words to. Her mother used to sing it to her, all those years ago, though some part of Wanda wondered if there had ever been words at all. Maybe her mother, too, had simply hummed the tune? These were the thoughts that occupied her when Wanda felt the brush of someone else's presence. Wanda perked up and cast her eyes out, lifting one sand-covered hand to block the light from her eyes. She saw his figure against the sinking sun. The bright light blocked out the details of his face but she could tell who it was as a familiar voice drifted across her consciousness.