ąųdįţǫŗę (mentori) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-01-18 21:00:00 |
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Blowhole diving (or really, freediving as it was called - this sounded better, less obscene, though he had no problem with obscene as a general rule). What was not appealing about getting sucked into a current and down into a tunnel that had been forged by many years of erosion, only to feel like you were being flushed down a toilet? That was what Ezio had been told from the ‘locals.’ It should feel like being flushed down a toilet (how they had something to compare that to, he did not ask), and if it instead felt like smashing your face against a rock then you were doing it wrong. He could appreciate Mother Nature’s creation here - it was even interesting to watch it explode, over and over again. The rocks leading up to it were closed, but that wasn’t going to stop him. Located between a cove and the beach, the formation was something he came out here on his day off just to see. Jumping was dependent on the tides, and ideally it was best to get someone to spot you. One could only sit on the beach and enjoy the view, and the salty sea air for so long, before a man like Ezio got restless. And he was not shy. The next person he saw, near where the cove began, he was going to politely work his charm and ask if they were up for an adventure. Adventure was on the agenda for Dan today. Dan was feeling itchy - a need to do something. He had no idea what that something was and was just kind of wandering around. At some point he found himself at one of Orange County’s many beaches, this one a little less touristy than most. One of the ones only the locals really seemed to know about. A little treasure tucked away for only a few privileged few to admire. Dan wasn’t much for the admiring part. Just looking at a thing got boring after a while and those rocks were just begging for attention. The fact that they were closed off only made Dan want to go up them more, contrary asshole that he was. Good for him that he’d forgone wearing his normal dress pants and shirt and opted for a pair of jeans and t-shirt instead. Sneakers were better suited for climbing, as well. Apparently he wasn’t the only one interested in seeing what was at the top. Dan noted the man who appeared to be waiting at the base of the outcropping. “Ah!” And here came a hopefully willing thrillseeker He waved the other man over, a big smile on his face. “Buon pomeriggio,” he greeted. “You have come to see the...they call it the blowhole here, and I can not think of a better English word for it. You can tell me if there is one.” Honestly, he hoped so. Blowhole. Some English words just made utterly no sense to him. Dan paused and glanced at the other man, taking note immediately of his accent. It was kind of hard to miss, and that greeting sounded Italian, though Dan had no friggin’ clue what it meant. A brow raised at the term ”Blowhole”. The immature child that resided somewhere deep within cracked up with laughter forceful enough to make Dan snort. “Blowhole.” Just saying the word made that immaturity swell up. “Nah, don’ know anythin’ about a blowhole, buddy. Sounds t’ me like someone’s playin’ a mean prank on ya. Makin’ ya say funny soundin’ words.” Mean, maybe, but hilarious. “Ya aimin’ t’ go up over these rocks here?” A quick look over the Italian was enough to to tell Dan yes, absolutely, to hell with the ropes and signs indicating not to enter. “‘Cause I am. Curious as to what's over there they don’ want anyone messin’ with.” A blowhole, for example. Snerk! “Maybe take a look at this blowhole a yers.” Que? Ezio was very sure that ‘blowhole’ was a legitimate scientific concept, it was simply named something awful - but many words were like that, no? Especially in English. Shaft, for example. Not the best of words to say or even to hear. “Whatever you take a look at, you will have to buy me dinner first off,” he winked, but then did away with the ropes - what, it was not like they were chains or anything. From what he knew, lifeguards usually escorted people up to where the rocks were, for their jumps, but it depended on the tide. Well, not for him. What would beach police do, arrest him? Bah. “There, see, the path is clear now.” He could see what they were after, just over the edge of the rocks which he clambered up on, heading for where the water was clear below them. Already it felt like an adrenaline rush. “What is your name?” he asked, with a squint and a glance over his shoulder. “Fellow rock climber?” A man after Dan’s own heart. Beach police. Ha! Rent-a-cops more like it. Dan did have a certain amount of respect for life guards. It was a job that required an insane amount of fitness and watchfulness. But those who trudged up and down the sands in those ridiculous looking shorts, paid by the beach directly and not really members of the local force? Pff. Dan followed after the Italian, scrambling over the rocks. His sneakers slipped every now and again on the slick rocks, but he managed to keep his footing well enough. “What’s that ‘bout dinner?” He asked. Kind of an interesting presumption to make. It wasn’t as though Dan couldn’t have hopped the ropes and made his way himself. “Dan Smith,” he answered. “An you? What d’ye call yerself?” “Ezio Auditore,” an introduction accompanied by offering his hand for a shake. “Piacere. As for dinner, I often mix cooking with any sort of blowing and holes, make sense?” He’d been teasing, mostly, but Italian men had a reputation for flirting with anything that moved and being great lovers. Both were true for him. What could he say, he was not doing much to dispel those stereotypes - there was always a kernel of truth in anything regardless. But first, they would fling themselves from these rocks. The wind ruffled his hair, a salty breeze effectively mussing it up, and he dragged his fingers through to get some kind of order back. There was such beauty and freedom to be found up here, no wonder people jumped behind the backs of lifeguards all the time. “Timing has to be right - much with other things. You jump just as the water is about to be sucked back down,” he shared. “You want first honors or me? Is helpful to have someone to spot you.” He had never done this before, but he had done his research. The Italian certainly had a way with words for speaking a language he obviously wasn’t raised with. Dan had to give him credit for that. Besides, who was he to pass up a free meal? Italians, in Dan’s experience, knew how to cook. However, there was no more thought about dinner when Dan looked down to the water filled hole at their feet. Dark brows furrowed as Ezio explained the mechanics of what he was about to do. “So yer gonna flush yerself.” He responded. Like a dead goldfish. Kind of an odd irony to that. He glanced up at Ezio in surprise, “Ya think I’m nuts enough t’ flush myself too?” Then his expression turned thoughtfully curious. He was bored and this certainly would cure that. “Where d’ya come out?” He asked. “Si, I do,” Ezio chuckled, teeth flashing in a grin. Or else why would Dan Smith (that was such a bland name, but the man did not sound bland - nor did he look it, and such contradictions were fun) be up here? Why else spend time loitering about the rocks? “The water pushes you out to sea,” he replied, pointing out further to the ocean waves churning beneath them. “Is why you have to time it right, with the rhythm of the flushing and the pushing.” So it was a little dangerous, but what was life meant for if not for danger? “Not that there is anything wrong with being a little nuts, as you say.” Weren’t they all. Figurati! Blowholes were no big deal anyway. Dan probably would have argued about the blowhole not being a big deal. Who knew what was down there, if the tunnel the hole opened to remained wide enough for a man to fit through. If not, then the tide would surely squeeze them to death and what a fantastic mess that would be. Or, maybe there were rocks down there, jutting out from the tunnel’s walls. Prime to strike one’s head on, be knocked unconscious and drown with the hole spitting out the dead body on the other side. Like a dead goldfish. It all sounded awesome to Dan. He grinned back at Ezio, a glint in his dark eyes. “Nope. There isn’t. Yeah, I’m game. Let’s do this blowhole thing.” And he laughed. “Ya want me t’ go first? I’ll give it a test drive for ya.” Fantastico. Ezio could respect a man with a certain zest for life (and desire to tempt the Grim Reaper by engaging in death-defying stunts); he was very much the same way, so he could tell that he and Dan Smith would get along just fine. Like two peas in the pod, no? “I will spot you, then,” he promised. “When you go. If you do not emerge in the sea, I come after you.” The low tide versus high tide aspect, he could now see that was so important - high tide, it was more dangerous to try to swim through to come up for air when the water pushed you past the rocks in its strong current. Low tide, not so much. But again, living dangerously. He imagined it would be quite the thrill. Playfully, he crossed himself, then crossed Dan. “Saints be with us,” the college professor chuckled. Dan laughed. He’d been raised Catholic, but it had been a long time since he’d been to mass, let alone even spoken with or to Him. But take the added luck when one could get it. Or curse considering how often Dan took his Lord’s name in vain. “They wouldn’ dare t’ have this much fun, Ezio,” he grinned at his Italian friend. Dan toed his sneakers off and left them on the rocks by the hole and pulled his shirt off over his head. He too was something of a walking stereotype. Though one wasn’t inclined to believe it by looking at him. Drinking, carousing and lusting all attributed to his hot Irish blood aside, his skin wasn’t pale, as one might expect it to be. His mother, the nameless faceless woman, had at least given him, along with dark hair and dark eyes, some swarthy tones. Shoeless and shirtless, Dan took a moment to consider the hole at his feet. The next moment he was in the water, treading. He shook the water from his eyes and looked up at Ezio above him. “Jus’ give the word.” Swarthy indeed! Ezio did like the swarthy look - studying Art History for so long, meant that he developed a fine appreciation for the human form, for its representation in works of art, and he liked forms of all shapes and sizes. Of course, if they were tall, dark, and handsome that did not hurt. But anyway. He squinted out at the water, having made note of when the cycle of blowhole explosions (such awful terms still!) occurred and how often - you needed the strong force to propel you, so it was a matter of wait for it, wait for it, wait for it... “Go, now, mio amico,” he told Dan, waiting for him to be sucked to his doom - or for a great thrill, that too. It is too bad he did not think to bring a camera up here! These were the moments you treasured for lifetimes and lifetimes. Dan could feel the tug of the tide on the lower part of his body, even as he tread the water. It wasn’t overpowering as he had expected it to be, but he had to work to fight against it until Ezio gave the word. When he did, Dan dived below the surface and let the water take control. It really did feel as though it were sucking him along. He tried to open his eyes so he could see what the inside of the tunnel looked like - if there was enough light to see by. But the current against his face made that impossible. A snorkel mask next time would probably be a good idea. Not that Dan really had the presence of mind to think about a mask. The tide whisked him through the hole quickly in a way that reminded him a lot of a water slide, if the slide was full of water instead of a measly little stream. It wasn’t a particularly long tunnel and soon Dan felt himself being hurtled out into the ocean. He was alive and in one piece. He opened his eyes and could see through the crystal water at beds of seaweed swaying lightly in time with the waves. It was a strangely peaceful scene after being sucked down a hole. A moment later Dan broke the surface. “Hey!” He called towards the rocks. “Ezio! I made it, man!” He laughed. “It’s yer turn!” Ezio laughed too, feeling elated that he met a kindred spirit and did not happen to lose them on the same day - he imagined that many had not made it thanks to the surge of the water. But he was feeling confident, and ready, and he was certain he could do this. Waiting until the time was right, it was his turn to submerge himself - which he did, a dive down and a big breath taken so he’d have enough air to swim his way back to the shore underwater. His lungs were burning and he could feel the pressure throughout his body, strong pressure, even in the ears. It was a rough dive, but it was fun - so exhilarating, unlike anything he had ever experienced prior to this. And then before he knew it, his head popped up and he had found himself out of the colorful world that was the ocean floor - no wonder people liked to explore what was down there, it was another universe entirely. “Merda!” he swore, flicking his hair from his face as he swam further toward the shore. But he was still chuckling, delighted and breathless. “We are alive, mio amico. And that was fun.” Dan followed Ezio towards the shore. The water was warm and pleasant, but had he known he was going to go for a swim today, he wouldn’t have worn his jeans. They were getting really heavy around his legs in the water. He should have left them with his shirt and sneakers, but, ah, well. He needed a new pair anyway. “I get why it’s called a blowhole now,” Dan said breathlessly as he swam. “But I think a suck hole would fit better” And be even funnier. “Lotta fun, though. I’d do it again.” Once they’d reached the rocks again, Dan hauled himself out of the water, soaking jeans and all. He tried, in vain, to swipe the excess water off before it threatened to pants him right there on the shore. “This what ye do in yer spare time, Ezio? Death defying stunts fer fun?” If so, it was a hobby Dan would fully support. Ezio was still buzzing from the energy and thrill of that dive, but he did notice Dan’s wet blue jeans conundrum. He would offer something for that. “Something of this sort,” he grinned mischievously. “I am always looking for new ways to entertain myself. Some could be more dangerous than others, maybe so.” It had been worse when he was younger, but after the death of his father and brothers (after their murder, he should say), he’d become a little more pensive and a little more apt to look before he leapt. Just not all the time. “Come, I have towels in my locker,” he said, motioning for Dan to join him. Well, it was more like a mesh bag with a metal aircraft cable drawstring and a lock - ensured that no one would be taking his things, since they’d need a machete just to open it. He’d set it in the shade, on the sand, before exploring the rocks. “Then we will celebrate still being alive with drinks, yes?” Drinks, hell yes! Dan’s face lit right up at the mention of drinks - preferably alcoholic. It had to be after noon somewhere in the world. It had to be after noon in Italy. Why not raise a glass - or a can as it were - to Ezio’s home? Dan gave up attempting to swipe water off his saturated jeans and seemed to content to just stand there and drip. He grinned at Ezio with left-over wild from their dive down the hole. “Yeah, a drinks a perfect way t’ celebrate puttin’ off death to another day. I like yer hobby. It’s always interestin’ t’ find somethin’ new to do. An’ that was fun!” Dan had found in Ezio a quick kindred spirit, though for Dan his wild nature had been cultivated as a teenager, running with the wrong crowd and creating all kinds of mischief. He’d calmed down considerably after high school. Even became a cop of all things. But all that changed when his father was killed in cold blood. It was as if that very event had snapped the leash on Dan’s wild nature. His true nature. Sometimes he wondered what the normal people around him would do if they knew what it was Dan did for a living. Dan continued to grin at Ezio. “Let’s get that drink.” |