Frisbees and Pickup Lines
Roleplaying Log: Frisbees and Pickup Lines
IC Details

Drake tries to brain Carmilla with a frisbee. They talk about beaches, and home. Then she walks off abruptly. Progress!

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: May 09, 2019
IC Location: A Beach on Staten Island
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 10 May 2019 16:40
Rating & Warnings: G
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

* OOC Time: Fri May 10 09:30:29 2019 *

* * *

Mid-afternoon on Staten Island; third largest borough of New York City, but the least populated. The sky is lightly clouded, the sun occasionally shifting behind some puffy white to cast long shadows across the island. The air is warm today, but not hot. And at one of the multiple beaches surrounding the island, that warm air is offset by a persistent, gentle sea breeze set to the rhythm of waves.

This particular beach in question is all but completely vacant

* * *

with only a few inhabitants. The sand is flat and sloping, largely undisturbed, and the only sound one is likely to pick up is that of the water lapping against the shore. It's the very definition of idyllic.

So far, it's come the closest to capturing the zen-like quality and inviting warmth of California's beaches, as far as Drake is concerned. He arrived earlier today, having spotted the stretch the day before, and has set up camp - so to speak. A puffy, but expansive gray towel is spread over the sand, and the college student is reclined back over it. Elbows rest propped behind him. head angled forward to the water, and gaze distant. Though it's clear he hasn't yet even been in the water, he's certainly dressed for it; his sleekly-toned upper-body going bare, with a pair of glossy emerald swimtrunks streaked in back tribal markings upon his legs. Beside him rests a mini-cooler in the sand, and atop that, a frisbee. Because you never know.

* * *

Carmilla is among the few people currently on the beach. She's in a dark blue one piece swimsuit with black side panels that expose her shoulders and upper back, which are decorated in a variety of tattoos, from flowers to more intricate designs. She walks a bit pensively along the edge of the beach, often turning to stare out at the water.

Over the top of Carm's swimwear is a sheer blue sarong that largely hides her lower body from the waist on down. It doesn't really hide the shadow of the tattoos on her legs. She's abandoned her sandals some two meters further up the beach in favour of toes carefully prodding the sand to avoid rocks and any discarded refuse. The latter is refreshingly rare in this particular place.

The slender, athletic young woman who is now skirting the edge of the waves stops to look out over the slowly incoming tides, and then turns to survey the beach. The only person nearby is Drake, and he is examined for a moment before getting a brief nod. Then she's back to moving through the sand, like she might actually dive into the water at any moment.

* * *

Drake Riley catches sight of the young young woman as soon as she enters his field of vision. Green hair. Heck of a thing. She's obviously in shape. Has tattoos. Likely an interesting person. And when she examines him, he uptilts his head faintly in acknowledgment with a natural, boyish smile.

The beach can be more fun with interesting people. He can give her a shot and see how it goes.

There's a sudden, sharp whistle designed to get her attention again. Should she look back in Drake's direction, she'll see him in a knelt position with the frisbee loaded at the ready. "Heads up!," he calls before gently sailing it in her direction.

Whatever shall she do?

* * *

Green hair, and also green /eyes/, as it happens. That becomes more obvious when she turns toward the sound of Drakes's voice, her gaze catching the light of the sun in away that actually lights up her face. It's a good opportunity to get a proper look at her. Lean dancer's frame, but with muscle definition in her arms. Those tattoos include a rose vine wrapping around her left arm, a nautical star on her shoulder…

The frisbee arcs through the air as Carmilla looks upward and she pauses. "…Hm?" It hits her right in the forehead, causing her to lean her head back in a flurry of dark green tresses. "…Hey!" Now her expression is one of obvious, vivid annoyance. There's a little twitch near the corner of her left eye. She bends down and picks the frisbee up out of the sand, pauses, and *lobs* it at Drake.

Actually, Carm can throw pretty hard. It's a good thing frisbees are light.

* * *

Light, and decidedly aerodynamic. Forcefully throwing a paper airplane yields similar results. But the intent is clear, and Drake is genuinely stunned that she was hit - and on the forehead! He'd laugh if she weren't so obviously incensed by it!

"Sorry!," he calls as he quickly gets back up to his feet. The frisbee, having flown a bit askew, is abandoned for now in favor of trotting to the girl, kicking up small plumes of sand behind him. "Didn't mean to nail you right in the chakra," he jokes as he approaches. Her green eyes are noted on arrival, but they're less unusual to him. He has a pair of those bright emeralds, himself. "You okay?," he asks as he stops before her.

* * *

"I wasn't exactly looking," Carm replies in a tone that is perhaps more fixedly annoyed than actually angry. "I'm fine." She shakes her head slowly, those long, deep green locks settling about her shoulders in a way that is both photogenic and determinedly unstyled. She blinks a few times. Her own eyes are a bit darker, more or less the match of her hair, which is something she must have put in a fair amount of work to orchestrate.

"Is this how you usually meet people?" Carm asks then, canting her head slightly to the left as she takes a second to look Drake over briefly from head to toe. "Or am I just lucky?"

* * *

Drake Riley's eyes are indeed a touch lighter - but only just, and it may even simply be a trick of the lighting. Emerald would remain a fine word to describe them. He isn't particularly used to seeing other people with green eyes, though - much less hair to perfectly match. It's certainly a striking combination.

Her question earns the renewal of that guileless, boyish smile that seems more natural to him than breathing. "Oh, as /if/ I were normally this smooth," he jokes, bearing the brunt of playful self-deprecation easily. "You're special."

Shoulders roll back, pulling his athletically-trim frame taut as his hands plant to his hips. "Name's Drake." His gaze briefly flicks over her, an effort to not be obviously seen taking her appearance in before continuing, "What's your name? If I'm gonna be pelting you with a frisbee, I should at least have something to call you. right?"

* * *

"Don't worry. If you're going to keep pelting me with frisbees you're not goind to need a name," Carm replies, shaking her head again. At first she levels an almost accusatory stare at Drake past those dark, almost jade green tresses, but then she's just shaking her head. A sigh follows and then she's toeing the sand in front of her lightly. No smiles, just pursed red lips and a cool stare. She has a small stud piercing through her bottom lip, notably. Diamond, maybe.

"Carm," the girl finally allows, straightening to her full, impressive height of five feet and two full inches as she does so. "If this is how you treat people who are special to you I think you need some work," she notes then, though it is accompanied with just the barest hint of a sly grin, almost like she's keeping it from anyone who isn't reasonably perceptive. "But anyway. Somehow I bet you pelt all the girls with frisbees. Admit it. You've been working on this gig since you were playing in the sandbox."

Carmilla props her hands on her hips and stares at Drake while she waits for that response. Intense is a good word for it, and pretty much all of her looks and movements.

* * *

Drake Riley is the relaxed yang to her intense yin, it seems. It's not lost on him. Though at first he's starting to wonder how unrelenting she might be - right up until there's the barest hint of that sly smile. Good! She's not humorless. Kind of necessary for getting along with him. Though his expressive response if a squinty look of defiance, continuing to be laced in playfulness.

"You got me. Pickup artistry, caveman style. Find a pretty girl, whing'em with something hard, drag'em back to the cave. I think my take on it is a little more refined, though," he counters. The smirk now edging the corner of his lips and the uptick of an obsidian eyebrow is almost challenging, daring her to continue the banter. Banter's fun. Banter keeps people loose. Plus, it keeps things light.

The posturing between them also can't be ignored. Both have their hands planted at their hips, staring bright green eyes into each other -her through green tresses, and him through a partial veil of obsidian black bangs.

* * *

Carmilla crosses her hands over her arms now, pursing er lips and blowing away one of those stray tresses fro mher eyes. It takes two tries but she somehow manages, perhaps abetted by how she's decided to stand.

"Way more refined. But less effective. Need to work on that delivery," she suggests then. "You'll figure it out, though." She turns then, almost casually stepping away with a couple of swaying steps.

"So, what's plan B? Since I survived the dreaded caveman frisbee ambush." Drake would probably be able to hear Carmilla rolling her eyes in the inflection of her otherwise deadpan speech, though the actual act is hidden now that she's looking away. "…Do you come out here often to go swimming? This beach seems pretty dead."

* * *

Drake Riley is a little disappointed she's sticking to the aloof side. Harder to work with. But it's certainly not a shutdown. And the sway to her walk- it was noticed. But was it intentional? A part of him suspects it was.

"So you're saying I should've just knocked ya out," he teases. "I'll keep it in mind." He takes a few steps after her, letting his arms drop to his sides. But he doesn't re-establish the same proximity he had with her a moment ago. "First time coming here. Haven't even touched the water just yet. I was just soaking it in. But hey. a quiet beach is a good beach. Less stressful."

The cant of his head may be audible in his question, "You prefer a crowded beach?"

* * *

"If you're going to go for it you have to go for it, right? No half measures." That slight sway to Carm's gait might also be natural, especially since she is picking her way barefoot across uneven ground, pocked with holes from footprints, wind, and the retreat of the occasional wave. Either way, she carries herself with a great deal of confidence as she moves up to the edge of the water.

Carmilla stares out at the water as Drake speaks, finally ending up completely still as she listens to his question. There's no answer for about half a second but she ultimately twists slightly to look back at the young man past her slender shoulder. "The crowds do." The masses, huge groups of people. She speaks of them with a quiet severity that suggests she certainly doesn't count herself among that class. Which might be why she's here.

After a second or so more Carmilla lifts a finger and crooks it at Drake, ostensibly beckoning him closer.

* * *

"Well, can't fault a woman who's all about going for what she wants, I guess," muses Drake, more to himself than anyone.

The crowd does seem to take a bit away from the enjoyment for him. It may be a different distaste from her, however. He isn't anxious around groups or people, nor does he feel superior to the general masses - even with superpowers. Rather, it's just the noise and distraction.

The beckoning of her finger gets a blink from him, eyebrows raised. He makes his way towards her, curious, feet squishing into the inviting sand with considerable comfort and ease. Beaches really are his native habitat.

* * *

"Okay, beach boy," Carm begins in a carefully cavalier tone. Her mezzo soprano voice is kept carefully low, maintaining that casual deadpan she seems to have had ingrained into her very nature. "Fine." She takes a slow, deep breath, those dark eyes casting out over the water once more. "…Tell me what you see."

It's almost a request, judging by the soft lilt in her voice, the telltale heightening of ptich at the end of a statement to indicate a question. She does, however, seem to expect compliance as she stands there and waits. The winds begin to pick up, her hair billowing out behind her on that breeze. If Drake looks he won't find a stray brunette or blonde hair to denote her natural colours.

"What brings you all the way out here?"

* * *

Drake Riley smirks at the designation, but doesn't contest it. It's a fair statement, after all!

Drake comes to a halt beside her bare shoulder, nearly bumping with his own. A glance is cast to the water, then back to her. "Two different answers." He didn't go looking for roots, no. If she wants to have green hair, he's fine with that. Though the thorough job of it does register, if even on a subconscious level.


Drake turns his emerald gaze out to the water, and he nods. "Endless potential. Anything could be on the other side of it, or even beneath it. It's not trying to be something it isn't, the ocean just… is. Weather gets choppy, and the water rolls with it. Weather's calm, and the water does what it does. There's a lot to see. A lot to take in. I dunno." He looks back to the girl, expression contently sober. "It's peaceful. No matter what it's doing."

He then gives a wry smile. "As for the /other/ question - I'm from California. I've been trying to find a beach around here that's at least /sort'a/ comparable to what I had back home. I kind'a like this one, but it's still not the same. Horizon's on the wrong side." His expression brightens in mirth, very aware of his unreasonable standards. "But no matter where I go, or what beach it is, it's always my favorite place to be."

* * *

"…Huh." Carmilla speaks in a sharp exhalation of breath, as if she'd been holding it the entire time Drake was talking. She continues to stare out at the water with that severe, thoughtful expression she's adopted, saying not a word as he lays out the full explanation. Eventually, she gives a single nod, apparently satisfied.

"I can see it," the petite green-haired woman finally replies, breaking the spell of silence that was buoyed by the whistle of the wind as it passed over her. "Where I'm from there aren't any beaches," she relates then, her voice just a hair louder than a whisper. She makes herself heard, but only just, mirroring a storyteller's trick designed to force listeners to give their fullest attention.

"I've traveled 'over' oceans a few times," Carm continues in that same measured, captivating manner. "But this is the first time I'ever actually come to a beach." Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, Carmilla is still a moment longer and then turns once more. She starts to walk across the sand at a fairly robust pace. A dozen meters away she steps into her sandals without slowing down.

"Thank you… Drake." Carm bends down, scoops up a smooth stone or shell, and tucks it into a pocket all without slowing her stride. For someone so short she can walk /really/ fast without seeming to hurry at all.

* * *

Drake Riley has certainly given her his full attention. No need for an orator's trick - he's invested in the girl at least that much.

As she speaks, Drake's smile warms both in support and sympathy. "I'd say it's about time you felt one for yourself, then, yeah. The feel of the sand, the breeze from the ocean, the sound of the waves, the view of the sky touching the water…"

Ack! She's suddenly off! Drake blinks at her, unsure if this is a retreat or if he suddenly broke out in a case of chick-repellant. But he raises a hand to her, hoping to catch her attention, "Carm! Don't let it be your last time, okay?"

* * *

"Not planning on it," Carm calls. She turns around and then she's walking backward across the sand, waving with her left hand as she goes. The steel bracelet she wears jangles lightly against her wrist as she does. A sly grin flashes across the girl's features.

"Don't worry, we'll run into eachother again. You're always out on the beaches, right?" There's a soft laugh as Carm turns to once again focus on where she's headed. "Practice those pickup lines. You'll figure it out."

And then, unless Drake stops her either by force with some scintillating comment, she really will be gone.

* * *

Drake Riley mirrors the girl's grin, pleased that she's back to banter. Why, he even thinks she might be turning a little playful. Given how they started, that's pretty great. Though what she says gets more of that challenging glint in his eyes.

"Oh, you want me to keep trying for ya, huh? Count on it!," he teases. "Beaches are the best bet for me!"

It's a simple confirmation, and one he isn't sure he slipped in particularly elegantly. But he'd be happy to find her on the beach again.

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