RP:Of Party Prep and Introductions

Summary: Leoxander is preparing for the annual Rynvale Beach Bash and Daisy shows up early to the party.

Leoxander wasn’t dressed in armor or armed to the teeth, that day. Which was probably a good thing if newcomers were already arriving to prepare for the celebration. Rynvale’s renewal continued on, the villas at a distance east or west renovated recently enough that the smell of sawdust still lingered, mixing with the salty ocean aroma of the beach. A large hammer half his height in hand as if it were no heavier than a hollowed, steel bat, he was using the mallet end to fix long, sharpened poles deep in the sand, a toolbox, rope, and other materials in the shade of a large, main canopy where the bar and bbq pit would eventually be assembled. The pirate was starting to get too red in the shoulders wearing only a black tank, dark, distressed jeans, and the usual combat boots laced up under his cuffs. There were a few sand sculptures in progress just out of reach in the high tide, and the bonfire at the center of it all was stacked in a lincoln-log bottom and a teepee-shaped top, ready to be doused and lit.

Daisy has been wandering around this island for a hot minute. She heard there was supposed to be a party, but is the absolute worst at directions so decided to look and wander and maybe eventually she'll run into something festive. An ear twitches towards the malleting happening over there by the very tall man. Maybe he knows! And if he knows, you'll know, and ooooh bonfire structure! This has to be the place! Go ask! Go ask! A hop and a step takes her right up to Leoxander, but not so close she'll get whacked by accident. Leaning over the toolbox, she grins up at the man. "Wha'cha making?"

Leoxander caught the foreign scent of a furry stranger while she paused for the brief conversation in her brain, and he turned his head the moment she started skipping his way. The Captain watched with a furrowed brow in silence as she made herself comfortable and known in the shade of the canopy tent. What was it? Another damn cat? Well, he’d been trying not to be a racist in light of the versatile citizens that came, went, or stayed on the island, and everyone had some use. Whether it be talent, good hearing and a busy mouth, or bait. Try to be friendly, Leoxander. Try. “Who the f-... …Our second year doin’ this. We’re celebratin’ th’island. An’ openin’ residency to a few.” Plus trying to show that it was no longer a barren, half destroyed place where only criminals dared go. Look legit on the outside - that was a goal. And bringing profit to reopened business in the process. But he didn’t know Daisy to be candid and he really was adjusting to talking, more. Not something he did a lot of in his life.

Daisy doesn't usually say a lot of words out loud or even in complete sentences, especially when it comes to the man behind the curtain. So the start and start again goes un-noticed as she rounds the toolbox to invade a bit more of the man's space just in front of him. "I'm early." She looks around at the halfly done arrangements with a little tug on her hair. Oh look. You with the hammer. This kitten's tail isn't the tail from days of yore. Sure you just met her, but that is beside the point. What -is- of a point is the end of that long, leathery tail with a pokey end. Said pokey end is bedazzled with a cork. Not a fancy one, just a regular cork. While Daisy is distracted by thoughts of beach snacks, the tail peeks out from beneath that skirt and darts at Leoxander, "stabbing" him in the leg with that cork.

Leoxander hadn’t seen anything like her before. From the front, if those cat ears remained, that’s what the tiny woman had reminded him of. But yeah, he couldn’t help but glance at the tail, drawn to sparkles with a different reception than most people had for shiny stones or dust. It could easily be of some pixie blend and it was a challenge not to step back or take the black fabric of the bandana hanging from a back pocket, like a work rag. Which could be used to cover his unshaven features just in case, but he didn’t, yet. “A few days, yeah. Don’t really matter, though. We tend not t’ put time limits on a party aroun’ here.” He was about to invite her to put up a tent early in the area for a good, shaded spot under a tree or the poles that would be set up as separate pavilions for shade. But before he could, he had a tail to suddenly dodge. He was a rogue, after all, and plenty used to avoiding surprise ‘attacks’. She wouldn’t make contact with that leg when he turned to avoid it, spun back around, took a step, and sought to counter. Normally he’d grasp her neck but given her stature, he ended up with a large handful of her face, one eye able to peek around his thumb and forefinger, if successful. There were a lot of violent things Leo in the past, not that long ago, would have done for such a simple tease, but instead he just stared down at her with warning flashing across steely blue eyes.

Daisy is definitely as feline as they come. Ears. Whiskers. Tail. Well she used to have a cute, fluffy, non-stabby tail, but sometimes near death experiences happen and birth tails go missing. Lemme know if you wanna hear the story, I've got it around here somewhere. Anyway. Even if that tail had been successful, the corked bit wouldn't have caused him any harm. Instead, Daisy is treated to a glorious step-evade and her face is basketball palmed. Her own eyes cross to blink through them fingers at the very angry ones glaring at her. "Oh." Yeah, you know what just happened. "It does what it wants." Which is why she put a cork on the stupid thing to keep it from poisoning random folks. Both paws grab a hold of that tail and give it a shake. "Say sorry." That tail will droop in a visible pout. Silly pirate, tails don't speak. They do sulk and hide back under skirts for silent brooding. Now. There's still a hand on your face, kitten. Offer to help to make up for the delinquent. Rogues are offered an apologetic smile. "Maybe I can help?"

Leoxander loosened his grip again at her muffled ‘oh’... the simple sound of a vowel coming across like ‘I better not do that again’. She really didn’t seem like the confrontational sort, on a first impression. Her question caused him to let her face go, completely, and he checked his hand for any glittery residue, even if it was wrapped up. She might have noticed the werewolf heat radiating from his callused palm and fingerprints, and that left hand could get particularly hot, but the brawl didn’t carry through. He wasn’t sure he could honestly hit her, anyhow, recognizing that his temper was not so volatile, anymore. “Maybe. Jus’ some groundwork for the ladies. They usually do the festive sh**.” The pirate cursed freely, and the seagull flying by was just a second too late to censor it. He toss-dropped the heavy mallet in his right hand into the pile of sanded wood poles with a clatter and moved passed her to collect the pile of ropes, hooking the coil through his arm and over a shoulder. Not ever truly turning his back to her.

Daisy wrinkles her now free -and very warm- nose before giving it a little rub with the back of her paw to put back the shiny that rogue thief wolf stole from her. You're gonna find that stuff everywhere for weeks, good sir. You've been warned. She sneezes a tiny ah-fff before telling him who she is. "M'Daisy." He didn't ask, but it'll make it easier for him to yell at her later if she gets in his way. She's very good at being out of the way and hidden, but also very good at causing a ruckus. Getting that approval to help, she perks up a bit and looks around. Festive groundwork. Is there going to be festive skywork? Maybe it'll be a thing of surprises later. For now, she makes her way right there to one of the poles holding up the main canopy they are near. "Maybe passions?" She digs in her bag, deeper and deeper until only one of her little feet is on the ground. The other dangles a little before it joins the first and she comes out with a paw-full of seeds.

Leoxander didn’t have the outward effect most would have at a kitten sneeze, but he could already see Lora, Lita and Daisy as the three best friends anyone could ever have, skipping through the wildflower field to the north. Ugfh. And some other letters together are not allowed. But it’s all in his brain, anyway. So he was starting to lose some of the tension and anger from his features and only squinted at the sunlight as he returned to the squared structure he was building a short distance from the fire. There were ‘tiki’ style torches to be placed, leaning up against the canopy base, tarp and durable cloth material folded less than neatly in the other corner, but he didn’t bother to point those sorts of things out, yet, weighing her character silently. Seemed the cheerful bonnie but he never judged a book by its cover. “That’a flower?” His wife-to-be was the garden expert around there, but they had a greenhouse to be filled. The girl had seeds. Probably a variety, on a hunch. So… he’d have to be a bit nicer and more welcoming since she had something he wanted. “Not much grows in the sand but some sea thrift closer t’ the orchard.” A nudge of his jaw westward. AND... didn’t things of that nature, of nature, take -time- to grow? He glanced her way from time to time but continued building the ring. A fighting pit or a time-out space, by the look of it, especially when he began coiling and knotting the ropes to stretch them out from pole to pole, top and bottom.

Daisy lifts a single seed from her paw between two claws from the opposite one. "And fruits." Her smile softens as she looks over at the wolfman. He isn't very wolfy right now. Maybe later. Don't be nosy. He's busy making his MMA time-out ring. The hard way, of course, but that is none of your business either. Leave him be about it. She sniffs and gives the seed a little lick before sticking it to the pole there beside her. This is done to each of the rest of the seeds in turn. Lick stick lick stick, all between purred whispers. "Sometimes you have to ask nice." Those saliva'd seeds sprout and creep up that canopy pole. Grinning widely, she dances over to the next pole, beckoning them over to her like one would call a puppy. "Come on, sweet babies." They grow thick leaves with three points as they make their way towards the kitten in an arch to and down towards her. Inhale. Exhale. "Bloom please." And they do! Large purple and blue and pink and red and white flowers fill that sea air with their pretty floral scent. Satisfied with her work, she goes back to the Leoxander. "Fruits will come to your party." She grins and peeks between the rope fence he's making.

Leoxander lofted his brows for a split second with a slight expression of a pleasant surprise, for once. “Huh.” Said before the magic happened. Though it could be natural. There weren’t a lot of magic lovers on that island, but it was inevitable in a few days time. He managed a mostly neutral expression as he watched the display of coaxing flowers to go. A druid, possibly? They had one’a those in a leadership seat. Mahri. A very… different kind of druid. “Well, thanks. They’re safe.” He stated, though it should have been a question, but he pretty much stamped his approval with some fine print that warned what would happen if she spread some poisonous fruit. “I’ll have another shade spot, or the palms over there near the water, stays pretty cool.” He motioned to a small cluster where a fallen green coconut rested in the sand. “If you wanna set up yer spot. Make it easier to help when we need ya, too.” There was that invitation, finally. He went back to focusing on work even though the sun was going down after kissing his shoulders and darkening the freckles almost too much. But one could see the governor’s estate (needs updated description) at a distance, the lights coming on in the windows as the beach got darker, waves starting to lap the sand more roughly, drawing the water back each time in preparation of a high tide.

Daisy pops up to a proper stand to press a paw to her forehead. "Safe, cap'n! Promise! She laughs and pads over to those offered shady palms, pausing only to pick up a starfish from the sand. The squiggley underbelly is given a little poke and a blep of her tongue before being placed on her head like the organicest of bows. Hair adornment taken care of, she goes over to the palms and plops herself right down in that sand with a floof of glitter. You don't know where it came from, but it settles eventually. A little of it will cover the passion fruit vine arch too. This is the best of spots for sure!