[Santo - The Beach]

[walk_ins]

[ master post]You have to walk down a ramp to get to the sand. The ramp stretches over sand dunes, with sea oats dotting them, blowing in the near-constant breeze. On the same level as the ramp: a boardwalk, dotted with places to get sketchy-looking fried food, to try your luck at a number of games of chance, to watch performers, to ride roller

Comments

[yankeedoodle_dr]

It's a nice beach.

Hawkeye had paused for a minute when they came into sight of it, and then started walking again as if nothing had happened. It's a little too warm to be too reminiscent of anything; the sand is too white, the coastline not rocky enough. But it's well enough.

He sits down once they've hit the sand, and starts taking his shoes off.

"Yeah, well," he says. One boot off. "I've never been one for the peanut gallery." Other boot gone, he peels off his socks and stuffs them into his boots, and starts rolling up his pant legs. "This looks like a nice place."

[simon_doctor]

"I've never been here before," Simon tells him, putting down the two folding beach chairs and starting to unfold one.

[yankeedoodle_dr]

"What a coincidence," says Hawkeye, burying his feet in the sand for a minute before getting up and brushing himself off. He grins at Simon. "Neither have I."

[simon_doctor]

He chuckles, and sits down -- carefully; these aren't the sturdiest of chairs.

"This isn't usual, really," he says. "Spending a week in drydock, with no job to do planetside. There's plenty of leisure time, but it's all on board the ship."

A look around, and he smiles.

"It makes a nice change."

[yankeedoodle_dr]

"Sitting down?" says Hawkeye. "You really don't do this a lot, do you?"

So saying, he's flashing a grin over his shoulder and ambling down toward the water.

(Sorry, Simon; you're fine company, but there is the siren call of the sea to contend with.)

[simon_doctor]

He chuckles, and shakes his head.

And starts carefully taking off his own shoes. Which is easier when you're sitting down.

[yankeedoodle_dr]

Hawkeye, meanwhile, is standing in the ocean. He has his hands in his pockets, his head first down so that he can watch his toes sink into the wet sand through the wobbly medium of the water, then up to catch the horizon. He's only wading in the shallows, though deep enough that the occasional bigger-than-average breaking wave wets the very bottom of his rolled-up trouser cuffs.

[simon_doctor]

Simon's rolling up his own cuffs, meanwhile. He's deliberately worn loose knit pants that won't be damaged by seawater, but he still doesn't much want to get them wet.

He glances out to where Hawkeye's standing.

[yankeedoodle_dr]

Hawkeye will remember soon that he has a companion, remember the rhythms of easy banter and practiced patter. For now, there's the tang of salt in the air, waves lapping at his legs; the distant cry of a sea bird and the feel of sand between his toes.

His face is open; quiet and considering.

[simon_doctor]

It's not long before Simon is padding carefully down to the wet sand at the water's edge.

He spots something near his feet, and bends to pick it up.

[yankeedoodle_dr]

Hawkeye glances over his shoulder, after a minute or two.

"Sunken treasure, Doc?"

[simon_doctor]

"Seashells."

He holds up the one he's found. It's pale grey-blue shading to white, fluted, about an inch long.

[yankeedoodle_dr]

"Almost as good," pronounces Hawkeye, wading back toward him so that he can examine this specimen.

His mouth curves upward, surprised and a touch charmed. "I've never seen a shell like that," he says.

[simon_doctor]

"They're different on different worlds, sometimes."

He hands the shell to Hawkeye and turns, looking down the beach.

"There was ... a couple of years ago, I think, was the last time I was on anything like a beach. The whole shoreline was covered in these beautiful seashells, a dozen different kinds. More."

[yankeedoodle_dr]

Hawkeye is considering the shell closely, holding it carefully between thumb and forefinger.

"Back home, you'll find the shells of moon snails in tidal pools," he says, studying this shell's ridges. "They've got a swirl like this, just rounder.

"They're hard to find, but moon snails have this nasty little habit of crashing other mollusks' parties by drilling into their shells and sucking out the current unhappy occupant." Hawkeye shrugs lightly with one shoulder, and he glances up. "Shells with those holes are easier to find."

This may give away when the last time he was on a beach was.

He pockets this shell.

[simon_doctor]

Simon nods appreciatively. It's an interesting fact, even if he's not sure at all whether moon snails are among the countless species that never made it off of Earth-That-Was.

"None of the ones Kaylee and I collected that day had holes," he says. "I bored holes in a lot of the best ones later, though -- I made her a necklace out of them, for a New Year's present."

It's been a long while since he's seen her wear it.