ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ (arcane) wrote in worldsapart_ic, @ 2019-08-18 14:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | astrid clover, james byrne |
Who: James & Astrid
What: Beach, beer, burgers
When: After this
Where: By the sea~
Rating: Low
Status: Complete
Barefeet sunk into the wet sand as the gentle tide kissed the top of her feet as it passed over it. Her senses took in the smell of the sea as arms held out and eyes closed, almost as if to beg the world to just take her away. Her peace was broken by an inquiry over what the hell she was doing. “I’m enjoying the moment!” Astrid replied, looking back over her shoulder to James who sat on a lawn chair outside of her Van up the beach a bit. They’d found a place relatively deserted and they’d taken the van onto the sand to relax near a fridge and a toilet. Astrid had picked James up and after stopping to pick up some Five Guys togo and some drinks they’d headed to the beach. After food and about one drink Astrid decided it was time to ‘go in the water’. Of course she didn’t have a suit, so she just pulled off her shoes and rolled up her pants to allow her to wade in ankle deep waters. James had caught her up on some stuff happening around town, among people they knew mostly. Sand stuck to her wet feet as she trekked back to her friend. “Where were we?” She asked as she slipped back in her chair and took a drink from her beet. “Oh, yea, you were asking me about my time inside. It was boring for the most part. Made me go to therapy and shit. Experimented with girls for a bit, but not my cup of tea.” She gave him a look that said the last part wasn’t real- or was it? It wasn’t real… or was it? It wasn’t. “Really just kept my head down and waited for the time to be over. Visitor days were the only time that I felt real. Otherwise, I was just a cog. Definitely no plans to return. 1 out of 10 stars- the experimentation deserves some points.” There was none. -- James couldn’t help but snort a laugh at that dangling bit of info about Astrid’s alleged carpet-munching activities in the clink. “Not a bad image,” he concurred, toasting her with his beer bottle. He wore shorts and a t-shirt while soaking up Vitamin D, something which was sorely overdue for him. The beach was perfectly lovely - soft sand being washed by the waves in white lace, the sun a cosy hug, the taste of the salty air - and the burgers were delicious. Typical in their juiciness (Five Guys always knew their cow), and he’d gotten sauteed mushrooms on his - plus extra crispy chips. Burn those fuckers, was what he said - they hadn’t disappointed. “I’m glad you’re out though, love. Good old LA just wasn’t the same without your brand of hurricane passing through,” he smirked, a tinge of amusement in cobalt eyes. “Personally, I haven’t been up to much. Working a lot at The White Rabbit. Trying to do some family research, nothing too exciting.” And drinking a lot as well, there was always that. -- She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear at the compliment and shrugged slightly. As expected, she’d gotten a bit of a verbal lashing from her Alpha and her Uncle, even Rhys had expressed his disappointment in her (though she’d asked). She knew that they’d missed her as well, but it felt nice to hear that part without the ‘what the fuck were you thinking’ attached to it. “Family research? This is new.” She took a drink. “Like doing the whole DNA ancestry thing?” -- “Oh, god, no.” That whole AncestryDNA craze was one that James would stay far away from - he’d come to the States without any papers, technically, and didn’t need to draw attention to that fact. It wasn’t the best time for immigrants, shall we say (or supernaturals in general - well, it was rapidly beginning to snowball in a direction that seemed dangerous), and he’d see how the pot was stirred. He took another swig of beer, toes sliding beneath the cool sand - he was glad they’d set up chairs, however, since getting sand up the bumhole seemed to be an unpleasant experience. “Doing my own research, really,” he continued. “On whatever brand of magic seems to run through the family line. I just don’t know much about it, is all. Working at the Rabbit helps though, I have access to whatever I need for spells. Rhys was just in there the other day, actually.“ He’d come to visit, seemed nervous about potentially leading the pack soon - though not like his blonde mate who was all swagger would admit that. “I bet the pack’s glad to have you back too?” -- Astrid chuckled. “Yea, happy.” She pursed her lips and nodded. “I mean, yea… they are. But I fucked up and now I’m under a freaking microscope.” Of her own making. “But it was good to see Rhys- he picked me up. And my Uncle again… without having to keep a two foot minimum distance while a guard stared at us.” She sighed softly as her thumb ran over the lip of her bottle. “I hope ya find what you’re looking for. Part of me wants to offer to help, but I’m shit at knowledge about magic stuff. Parents weren’t really keen on super stuff.” Which was brilliant when their daughter came home a werewolf. “But I’ll be your cheerleader. Or a wall to throw stuff off of if you need an ear.” She offered. She was working on being more helpful, less ‘let’s go blow up this town’. -- James chuckled fondly. “They’ll get all wrapped up in their own nonsense before you know it, and that microscope will no longer be a thing,” he assured. But it was true, wasn’t it? Scandal was relevant only until the next one came along - it had a short shelf life. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the rays and the silent, soothing lullaby of the sun - it made one sleepy out here like this, but he’d try not to doze off. That seemed like a one-way ticket to red skin and an itchy peel. Though he did crack one eye open to look at Astrid; wasn’t she sweet? “Thanks, love. I haven’t really got many cheerleaders, so I could use one. We’ll see what happens.” — “Just don’t expect me to wear a short skirt or shake any Pom poms.” She smirked, pulling her sunglasses from her hair and over her eyes. That was something she’d never do- well not outside of the bedroom. She sighed softly, it was nice to be free, and the fresh salty smell of she sea was real nice. “So, let me throw something against you. I’ve got to find myself a new job. How do you think I’d fit in construction? Rhys figures something like that could help me release shit on nails and wood.” Astrid paused slight and laughed. “Shit, I’m sure there’s a dirty joke in there somewhere.” — “No shirt skirt? Well, then what’s even the point?” He was teasing, of course - though honestly, Astrid would pull off a cheerleader outfit very well, and she probably knew it too. James considered her question - friends could bounce things off of him all they liked, his advice was free. He tried to always give the best advice possible too. “Aye, I think you’d be good at it - doing dirty work suits you,” he winked, but there was a nugget of wisdom in that as well. “And around here? There’s always some sort of construction going on. Plus, they’re not going to put up a fuss about a record.” She could possibly even get paid under the table - it was how he’d made his way, when he crossed the ocean and landed in the States. Lots of under the table jobs - bartending was a big one too. “If you decide you like it you could focus on a specialty. Ironworking or carpenter or what have you. I could be looking at the very next Jesus.” Snort. — “Doing dirty work? I don’t think the joke is getting any better.” Okay, her mind may have been a bit in the gutter. But she’s been locked away for a year, she was allowed. “My god, could you imagine?” Astrid laughed. “I’d be the most foul mouthed impure Jesus ever. Instead of forgiving people’s sins, I’d encourage them to make more-“ She let out a breath of realization. “I’d be the antiChrist!” Chuckling, she took a swig from her beer. “My mom is definitely not the Virgin Mary.” — He sort could of imagine and it was terrifying, so he wouldn’t try to imagine anymore. “I wouldn’t go as far as the anti-Christ, but - “ James grinned devilishly, the expression touching his eyes and crinkling them at the corners. “You’re definitely not far off.” But alas. He was glad to hear that Astrid had job prospects in mind, that she was easing her way back into whatever this life entailed - it was kind of a rough transition from the ‘inside’ to the ‘outside,’ or rather, it could be. The last thing he wanted was for her to end up right back behind bars again. “I’ll do my best to get you laid too, love,” he promised. “Play wingman. I’m good at that.” -- Her head laid back in the chair as she looked at him and chuckled. “That obvious?” Astrid’s Uncle told her that one day she’d find a real mate. Someone who she’d bond to forever. The idea wasn’t completely unwelcomed, but she just couldn’t think of anyone she could stand to be with in a Cleaver like situation. Not that she expected that would happen when she found her one. A person just doesn’t become a perfect housewife if that’s not their nature. But wedded bliss felt so foreign to her. Maybe it was because of her own home growing up. Still, in the meantime, no one said she couldn’t explore the pool. “Fantasy can only get you so far.” She smirked. “Though, right now. As much as it sounds like fun to pack it in and hit up a club. This is fucking relaxing.” Astrid smiled. “And it looks like we may have a little something to watch.” Her head turned as a car pulled up in the parking lot above them and some guys started to get out with surfing equipment. -- “Aye, it is,” James agreed, feeling his bones melt further into the chair. He was content with not moving anytime soon - he’d just be out here, baking in the sun until Astrid was ready to load everything back up into that van of hers. “Next time, though. We’ll head to Midnight or something. Or maybe Reverence.” Both had a prime selection of potential partners for Astrid to enjoy (men, clearly, since she already stated she preferred the D over the pink taco) - but for now? The beach, and the sun, it happened to be. He’d enjoy these leisurely moments (and the view of surfers - hopefully they knew what they were doing and didn’t fall off all embarrassing-like) while they lasted. It wasn’t like he could see the future, so who knew what fuckery was in store for them next. |