Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye.

[helmetdoesnothing]

Who: Mituna Captor and Latula Pyrope
Where: The beach on the island
When: July 14 (backdated)
Style: Bracketybrackets
Status: Closed

---

[Mituna stops at the line between wet and dry sand where the highest flow of the tide reaches, and sways forwards slightly, balancing his weight against the toes of his boots. He doesn't fall, but slowly leans his weight back again, looking over to his companion with a toothy grin.

No one, upon seeing Mituna's relative lack of co-ordination on a daily basis would ever think that letting him go swimming would be a good idea, but the yellowblood isn't known for his good ideas, and besides... Latula's here, and she'll keep an eye on him.]

C'mon, 'Tula, let'th do the thing.

Comments

[r4d1c4l_kn1ght]

[She's just a couple steps behind him, leaning into the breeze, inhaling with a deep, satisfied sigh. It's been a long time since she's been swimming, and she captchalogues her clothes swiftly, leaving her in a swimsuit that is suspiciously close to the color of his blood.

Latula wasn't afraid of swimming with Mituna; she had his back, after all, and she always would. But then again, the last time they'd been swimming, neither of them had had a functional bloodpusher to worry about...]

Whoa, you're not doing anything, bro! Not with that helmet on. [She leans over, reaching to snatch his helmet off, one hand aiming to ruffle his unruly black locks.] Where's your swimsuit?

[helmetdoesnothing]

[He stalls when she captchalogues her clothes, staring in a way that might suggest he's never seen her so scantily clad before (of course he has, and every time elicits the same reaction), and it's enough of an interruption to his stumbling thought processes that she can remove his helmet with little protest.

Mituna shakes his hair down in front of his eyes and blinks at her through his bangs, grinning as a hissing little sound that might be trying to be a laugh escapes through his teeth. He plucks at his shirt with his thumb and forefinger.]

Under my clotheth. [And he sounds so proud that he actually had the competence to show that level of foresight.] But.. uh, [His expression turns coy.] I forgot how to take them off.

[r4d1c4l_kn1ght]

['Tula was pretty sure that being even close to half-naked would present the perfect opportunity to snag his helmet; it's one of the reasons she did things the way she did. She'll always love the way he stares, like she's the only person in the universe and like he sees nothing else. It makes her bloodpusher beat a little faster, tapping out a hurried, excited tune in her chest.

She adores him. How could she do anything else?]

Good job you! [She enthuses, drawing herself close to him, her fingers trailing over the front of his shirt. His next words prompt an exasperated expression, and she shimmies her fingers under his shirt, drawing slow circles over his skin.]

That's a shame, Tunabee. Because I don't know if I can help you! [She casts a slow, longing look at the crashing waves, a long-suffering sigh escaping her.] I mean.

The water's singin' for me, y'know?

[Her smile is crooked.]

[helmetdoesnothing]

[At her expression, his grin only widens, but it's soon faltering to a more uncertain yet entirely giddy look as her fingers touch his skin. His bloodpusher stutters and he lets out a little squeak, grasping her wrists in an effort to both make sure she stops before she tickles him and to keep her from moving her hands away.]

That'th not fair. [He mutters it, though it can't be said if he means what she's doing, or what she's claiming she won't do.]

I could thing better. [His thumbs rub against the palms of her hands.] Would that work?

[r4d1c4l_kn1ght]

[The squeak makes her laugh, and when he catches her wrists, her hands still - at least for a moment - and she steps closer to him, her forehead bumping against his, nose rubbing briefly against his own.]

Since when am I fair?

[she teases, her eyes bright as she looks up at him. His offer prompts a smile as she stands against him, swaying almost idly on the beach.]

I dunno. [There's the faintest giggle, and then she's twisting her hands out of his grasp, reaching to catch the hem of his shirt and pull it up and over his head with one quick motion.] That surf sounds really, really sweet.

[helmetdoesnothing]

[He pouts at her and sticks his forked tongue out, then promptly almost bites it as she pulls his shirt off him. A giggle escapes - Mituna's not that bad to look at, if a bit on the skinny side, with thin scars showing up like chalk lines against the grey of his skin - and he rubs his hands up his arms.]

It doeth.

[A moment later, and he's trying to pull one of his shoes off without sitting down, which naturally, inevitably, ends in him falling on his ass. He lets out a short, sharp curse, squinting one eye shut, but it's a quick recovery as he gets back to yanking his shoes off and wriggling out of his pants.

He does indeed have swimming trunks on under his jeans, and when he finally wobbles back to his feet, curling his toes into the sand, he grins.]

Rathe you.

[r4d1c4l_kn1ght]

[It's hard to resist the urge to send her fingers skirting over those scars, tracing the geography of his body that she's so very familiar with. No, he isn't bad to look at, and not for the first time, Latula counts herself lucky that such an awesome troll has such a hot bod.

When he proceeds to finish stripping, she braces for the concept of no trunks - but there they are (she breathes a sigh of relief), and when he's finally upright again, she half-hops into him, flinging her arms around his shoulders and tucking herself briefly against his chest in a quick sideways hug.]

Last one there's the grub of a squeakbeast!

[And she pushes away from him, cackling gleefully as she races through the sand, in the direction of the water.]

[helmetdoesnothing]

[The strangely kind way that people treat him here has done wonders for his mental health, and though he'll never be 'fixed' he's at least less prone to tantrums and fucking up things that most people would see to be simple common sense.

His hesitation when she sets off (and the fact that the he ends up on his ass again as she moves away) is enough to give her a good lead, but he's soon scrambling up and chasing after her, catching her just before she reaches the surf and throwing his arms around her waist with a giddy laugh.]

[r4d1c4l_kn1ght]

[She actually squeals when he catches her, echoing his laughter. Without pause, she catches his wrists, unwinding his arms from around her so she can tug him after her into the water.

When the surf is lapping at her knees, she slows her pace, turning to face the endless horizon of the ocean, guiding his arms around her and leaning back into his chest. She tilts her head slightly, (careful not to jab his chest with her horns), looking up at him, her cerulean eyes sparkling.]

I'm glad you're here.

[She giggles, faintly, turning her head a little more, pressing one ear to his chest, listening to his bloodpusher. It's strange, to her, that they're both living, breathing entities, after spending thousands of years dead.

Of course, it means she's gonna worry more when they're swimming.]

You gonna be able t'keep up with me, Tunabee?

[helmetdoesnothing]

[He's a little hesitant to follow, moving through the water like it's holding him back somehow, but he keeps tight hold of her hand and he trusts her, so when she stops and pulls his arms around her he's quick to respond, peering around at her as she turns her head.

The wind over the water ruffles his hair up, showing off those bi-coloured eyes with barely discernible pupils and the light blue and red scars webbing out around each.

He kisses her cheek, fingers spreading over the cooler skin of her stomach as he holds her. Mituna can't swim too well, especially with his poor co-ordination, and he's more likely to drown than keep up with anyone... but like hell he's going to look like a wuss in front of his girl.]

Thure I can! Let'th do it.