RP:I Don't Wanna Know
Summary: A play fight.
Private Beach
Large campfire has been dug into this secluded beach surrounded by large grey stones to contain it. In the centre is a large stack of dry sticks and logs perhaps somebody is planning a get together here? This beach is in excellent condition as unlike the others it is fairly exclusive there is no littler to be found and smooth sand stretches for a fair distance in both directions you notice oddly that not even a single rock or piece of seaweed is out of place here and wonder if the owner has some strange enchantment on this area to keep it in it's pristine condition. You sigh contentedly as the waves crawl slowly up onto the shore leaving a darker shade of golden wet sand in their wake and wonder how long you can stay here enjoying the wonderful scenery, or how a cool dip might feel upon your tired frame.
Raphaline finds her heart lingering between Cenril and Rynvale these days. In Rynvale she is less likely to run into her obligations and can linger along sandy shores with a whiskey in hand. It is here on the shore, just a bit south of the beach house that the bard finds herself. Lounging like a cat, she stretches out and leans back on her hands, causing the flowy green dress to draw a bit more up above her knees. Her curls are allowed to fall freely down her back, the breeze brushing against her cheek as she dips her head back, face turning up towards the warm sun.
Irenic seems to have forgotten that his ‘night’ half is currently wanted in Rynvale due to some spontaneous heist, but seeing as it is daytime and his appearance looks nothing like the creature that stole things - he should be okay. He looks relatively the same; elongated pierces and pointed ears, tawny tattooed skin, bored demeanor, and dusky graying hair only shaved down on the sides in the fashion of an undercut. Did I neglect the fact his are gone? His memory hasn't been the same since his curse and he glances at a woman who seems familiar and on this beach no less, which is usually pretty abandoned. Mismatched gaze glances her in the distance for a moment before he knelt down by something stuck out of the ground, picking dead foliage up off the sands and tossing it aside in order to replace it with a blue carnation. Raising back to his near seven foot height while looking down at the quaint headstone here which reads “Pete ‘Quizzical’ - a child of many questions.” He wipes some sand on his cotton short sleeve shirt while mumbling something to no one, “Qu'est-ce que tu fais encore ici? Vous devez traverser.” Such a romantic language dulls the usual menace in his tone and it was as if he was asking someone ‘why are you still here?’ And ‘you must cross over.’
Raphaline had almost abandoned herself to the sound of the ocean waves and the breeze, that is until she heard an unusual language being spoken not too far from her. It was beautiful and melodic and unlike any she had heard before. So she sits up a bit more and turns, her gaze shifting over the landscape for the owner of the voice and language and finds herself struck by surprise. There, wingless, stands Irenic. She pulls her feet up so that she can rise and make her way over to him. “Irenic?” She inquires in a voice of confusion. When had she last seen the avian? “Are you alright?” She is unaware of the loss of his knowledge of common so she continues on without a care. “Where have you been getting into trouble, hm?”
Irenic’s exaggerated ears pick up the sound of his own names He thinks to himself that he really should try and associate with more dudes, or was he some type of player and didn't realize it. Turning to face the woman, yeah, she's cute. Hands shove into the pockets of his trousers and he silently hopes she didn't understand what he was saying because that would mean that three people would know his secret now. He wasn't ready for that just yet. A glance down at the headstone as he answers her question on if he was okay with mentioning he was paying respects, “Payer les respect.” This might be easy enough to assume, but for now he plays it cool and continues a courteous conversation because sometimes he eventually remembers the person without having to offend them. In response to her last question he smirked with scarred lips very subtly and said slowly that he doesn't even know with a motion to his crow's feet adorned temple, “Je ne sais pas.” When he asked and you? He pointed to her for emphasis, “et toi?”
Raphaline was not quite sure what the words he used were saying but gently places a hand against her chest. "Me?" She inquires, her brows knitting in confusion. "Gone, traveling for the last month or so. No trouble though." She cants her head to the side though, curious ever still as she glances towards the ocean once more. "Since we are at a loss of words, will you join me by the ocean?" She asks, turning back towards the water, thinking it best to at least rinse some of the sand off the side of her thigh.
Irenic’s mismatched hues follow her own to the ocean and slowly starts to put together that something similar happened with them. It was hot in a cold place, a hot spring and she was there. Ah, yes, the chanteuse who is just as guarded as himself and he gives a glance back to the blue carnation resting before the gravestone, but that wasn't what he was really looking at. A shrug as he agrees to go with her, “sûr, chanteuse.” Luckily the nickname he gave her before was already in his native tongue, that's probably why he called her that since it means singer for she is a bard.
Raphaline is glad that though his language may not be the same, his memory is still in accordance. Grinning, she offers a calloused hand to him without a word. Whether he takes it or not, she moves barefooted back to the ocean line. She keeps walking until the waves are tickling her toes and the breeze from the ocean is rustling the green dress about her legs like a million spring leaves. Smiling, she walks a bit further into the ocean until the water comes up to her knees. With the water so close at hand, she opens both hands and begins to draw her fingers through the water, humming all the while.
Irenic glances down at her hand and the chilling silver eye is the only one actually seeing while the chocolate brown one picks up hints of magic on her. Fear not he cups her hand with his own much larger and rough tawny hands in allowing her to lead him closer to the water. Letting her leave him at the waterline he watched her a moment while slipping out of his boots and socks, but something stopped him when he went to pull his tee shirt off. He would leave it on for now while he steps to the water and wiggling his toes in the moist sand until a small wave washes over them. After a quiet moment of taking in the horizon those mismatched eyes fall back on her red hair. He would ask what she's doing out here by herself, but she wouldn't understand… So, silence is golden?
Raphaline continues to draw her fingers through the water as her humming begins to take flight and form into singing. The melody is gentle like ocean waves caressing the beach, but it invokes something else. That magic he perceives begins to stir and bloom within her in a mixture of deep blue and sharp notes of white. Where her fingers brush along the water, the water itself begins to dance in slow spirals up around the digits and then up her arm to her elbows. It has been too long since she has indulged in the pure beauty of her magic. She turns to him, emerald eyes aglow with her internal strength as she raises her hands from the water and the water that had been spiraling around her arms begins to form into spheres in her hands. She brings both hands together causing the water to form a larger sphere, of this sphere she tosses towards the avian in a playful manner for him to catch.
Irenic watches her work with interest and if he could talk he would have made some smart ass remark by now about a siren leading him to doom, but he just watches her movements quietly. He's never seen this type of magic used, but she does it well and he would mention that as well. Then the was looking at him now and it stirred something within him until he got distracted. A sphere of water was tossed to him and his hands break free to ‘catch it’ even though he knew he had not magical ability to hold it like she did. “Ah, merde,” which was said in a playful manner with a smirk on scarred lips as his clothes were now wetter than he planned, but he didn't mind it. He uses the water on his hands to smooth the top of his hair back since the sides are shaved down close now. He bends down and flicks some water her way as a small form of payback.
Raphaline once upon a time been very averse to the idea of using her magic in front of others, but since the fight in Larket, it had come out that she had the gift. When he tosses water back in her direction she feigns surprise as she gasps and tries to step back away from it. Grinning though, she dips her right hand back into the water and calls to him, “Don’t tempt me.” Slowly, she begins to move closer to the shore all the while her emerald gaze still focused on him. Once the water begins to dip down below her hip she scoops up a bit of water and tosses droplets in his direction. The look she wears is that of a playful and yet completely knowing siren who enjoys this game of back and forth that they’ve always had. "Your move, Dove."
Irenic shook his head just slightly and let out a guffaw at her taunts. He takes strides through the water seemingly meeting her halfway and an arm raises up to ’block’ her attack while his opposite hand pushes a small wave of water towards her. Once that got a distraction his other hand lightly flicked some water the other direction all the while wading closer to her in the waters and uncaring of his clothes getting wet at this point. He makes a quick assumption she was able to use the elements around her so if she allowed him to sneak in close enough he bends down to slip one muscled arm entirely around her waist to attempt to drag her back to dry land. Possibly trying to sneak in little pinches of tickles to her sides for added distraction. Of course his grip wouldn't be too tight that she couldn't escape.
Raphaline tries to block the bits of water flying in her direction, but some of it does get through and collects both in her hair and along the lines of both her face and neck. She does allow him to sneak in close enough to wrap an arm around her waist but not before she throws a pretty sizeable splash in his direction. Between the tickles and the play fight to get her to the shore, she finds herself filled with silver-belled laughter. Gods it felt good to laugh with such unrestrained joy. She playfully pushes at him, saying stop it, in between the tickles as she finds her feet once more on sand and the water behind her. The green dress is now stuck to her legs and her red curls shimmer with the water as the curve and stick to her neck and face. “Such a fiend,” she jests as she lightly thumps him on the chest.
Irenic finally made his heist back to dry land and releases his foe, but he's struck on the chest. “Oh non! J'ai été tué!” His face fakes pain and clutches his hand over the ‘wound’ while throwing in a few staggers before ultimately faking his death on the moist sand where the shoreline ends. Sprawled out on his back and hand still holding where she thumped him he could easily be a dramatic actor aside from the smirk. The chilling silver eye sneaks a peak up at her to gage her reaction.
Raphaline folds her arms across her chest and gives him this look. It has a raised eyebrow, a slight quirk to her lips and it says, ‘Sir you have not fooled me one bit.’ The bard shakes her head as she sighs, quite a amused, and plops down on the sand beside him. She leans back on both of her hands as she stretches her legs out before him before canting her head and turning her emerald gaze to him. “I am quite sure you are alive, Dove,” she says, chuckling a bit to herself as she reaches over and gently pokes his shoulder. “And even if you were injured, I am quite capable of healing you back to the right state.” Another shake of her head, as she tries to run her hands through her wet, wild curls.
Irenic opened his mismatched gaze up at her faking a frown before sitting up next to her in order to slip his wet shirt off. He lies the shirt out flat on dry sand so it may dry faster, but in this moment Raphaline could now see red welts where his wings used to be as if they were burned off. Positioning himself in the same way she was in relaxing and crossing his outstretched feet one over the other. “Ouais? Assez impressionnant,” he appreciates her power while looking up at the skies and secretly measuring how much time he has left before sundown.
Raphaline lofts a brow, not quite sure what he means. Instead, she turns her gaze out towards the ocean as well, measuring how low the sun is getting to the horizon line. "Soon night will be upon us and I shall miss the sun and its beautiful warmth." She sighs, lightly to herself as she leans backs until she is laying on the sand. Her emerald eyes drift closed and she takes in the warmth of what is left of the sun and just listens to the sounds around her. Her hands laced together across her stomach as a small smile comes to her lips.
Irenic felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realizes he needs to get far away so she didn't see what happened when the sun goes down. He watches her as she gets comfortable in the before leaning down over her, shrinking the distances between their faces so he could plant a kiss platonically on her forehead and a light pat on her laced hands. He didn't care to pick up his boots or shirt when he stood up quickly and made his way off the beach towards the pirates coves even quicker by taking off in a near sprint.
Raphaline isn't too surprised by the platonic gesture, nor is she adept at chasing after him. Instead, when the sound of his footsteps is far into the distance she sits up and gently folds the shirt beside his boots. Silly Dove, she think as she places the items of the reach of the ocean. As for her, she takes a quick dip into the ocean to wash off the sand now clinging to a decent part of her body.