[html] The sun was bright and hot, cast into the middle of the summer sky. Beneath it, the quiet boy trudged through the sand, pulling along the little red wagon behind him, giving it a quick jerk once and again when the wheels became stuck in the sand. He'd only been traveling a short while, since the very edges of his new home had taken part of the beach. What he was seeking wasn't at the shore though, a short distance away from his new home and the destination of the days travels. He figured, at some point or another, that he might begin the process of building a shack for he and Laurent to live in, since he had never really been keen on living outside. He would gather the things that he needed and begin preparation work soon, though the majority of the project would take place during the fall, he supposed, when it wouldn't be so hot outside.
Jasper eventually found what he was seeking, the area of the beach where the waves reached up to the shore, moistening the sand there. The blonde male brought the wagon to his side, releasing the handle and immediately dropping to his rear in the sand. They had water back in the lands to moisten the sand for when he was finally able to use it, but gathering wet sand was easier than scooping up dry sand, so he began to do so, dropping it in the wagon whenever he got a handful. Eventually though, the young male became distracted, scooping up sand once and then proceeding to build things in it, making small shapes and objects, before scooping them off into the wagon and repeating the process.
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Many might have found the sand inviting and pretty, but she just found it disgusting and burning. The sand was what they landed on and dear blessed gods above, did she hate it. She moved with a strange and jerky kind of fashion, half wild and skittish. Four or five steps forward, than a jerking, twirling look around. She had clothed herself in a thick, roughly fashioned kind of traveling cloak. It hid her form rather well [though she had layered plenty of dirty clothing over the strong body she had], and hid her face. Better to stay hidden then to let the eyes crawl all over her. Violating her flesh in a way that was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. Matinee shook her head rather fiercely, clutching at it with scarred hands to put herself back in place.
She was not there. She was here now. This place was free of Captains and other such mess. This was a good place. Fishing it out from her belt, the machete was comforting in her hand. The weight of it made her feel safe. She hefted it lightly, and walked along, starting to hum the ever cheer, yo ho, yo ho and a bottle of rum under her breath. The men on the ships would sing it endlessly. In a tireless, droning refrain that made her want to scream. Which she did, sometimes. But they regarded her with an uneasy contempt. A gypsy witch woman. It kept her alive though. Off in the distance her lone eye spotted something familiar. The inky shock of hair on his head was apparent, and that scent, so very long ago last touching her, but so familiar. She had given birth to the boy after all. Frozen, she stood there. A cloaked thing with one burning blue eye and one black hole, and a long, wicked looking machete in hand. Quite the friendly beastie.
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[html] At first it was a castle, leaning slightly to the left with a half broken top. Jasper, wrinkling his nose at the way that it came out, quickly gathered his hands beneath it and scooped it up in to the wagon before going back to work. Hands worked diligently in the sand, shaping this and molding that, slapping on other handfuls of sand and form it all in to whatever came to mind. Eventually, with hands caked in sand, he lifted his head to brush away the stray pieces of hair that had fallen in to his eyes. It was then that he spotted her, just down the beach, a crazy woman with a rather large knife in her hands.
Had it not been for that moment that he looked up it was likely that he would have never even known she was there. Without the use of his nose, it was dangerous for him to be out alone, and this was exactly the reason why. Wide-eyed, they younger male could only stare at the cloaked figure, feeling a shiver of fright immediately take him. Was he close enough to the lands to call out and have someone hear him? Likely not, but he was perhaps close enough to make it there if he ran for it. Jasper was to his feet in an instant, eyes lingering on the figure until the moment that he turned away to run. Instead of it going how he planned, of course, the very first step that he took was caught by the wagon, causing him to trip and fall, landing face first in to the sand.
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