maskormenacelogs | LET'S GO SURFIN' NOW

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LET'S GO SURFIN' NOW

WHO: YOU
WHERE: Heropa, Florida.
WHEN: Saturday June 13th, all day.
WHAT: A registration beach party with a bonus murder mystery game!
WARNINGS: None anticipated; please let us know if this should be edited.

PARTYING IT UP

As the imPorts flood into the entrance of this month's Swear-In, every imPort will pass by a large table with a welcome sign hung over top of it. Spread out on display are a huge pile of brochures, something that all new imPorts are heavily encouraged to read by the smiling woman manning the booth. From this point onwards, these brochures will be supplied both at Cape Carneval upon arrival, and available at every Swear-In, ready for imPort consumption.

Slap on plenty of sunscreen and put on your swimsuits, imPorts, because it's time for a good old fashioned beach party! While there are several food stations set up, they're all restricted to working with the grill, which means that there are plenty of hot dogs, hamburgers, kebabs, grilled corn and more to go around. It's messy eating, but if you need to clean yourself off, why not go for a little swim? The water's clean and clear, ready for anyone who wishes to while their time away splashing around.

Of course, there are always more competitive people afoot, and many may notice a handy buoy some ways from the shore as an excellent point to use for racing. For imPorts who are interested in a more organized affair, there are several courts set up for a spirited game of beach volleyball, battling against the city's own native population. ImPorts are asked to play fairly -- no powers allowed! Of course, some imPorts may try to sneak in a power or two, but wouldn't be much fun to cheat against people who have no way of retaliating, now would it? For those who enjoy their feats of daring, pits of red-hot coals are set up - and carefully supervised - for anyone who wishes to try their hand at it, though a medical tent isn't too far off. Once everyone's properly overheated from all that exercise, swimming races will be held, a faraway buoy serving as the finish line.

Not too interested in joining in on all of those people sweating and running around? Not to worry! Huge, white tents dot the generous expanse of beach, fully equipped with lounge chairs and tables for people to take their food to. Along the beach itself are several colourful, fluffy beach towels, just waiting for anyone hoping to get a nice tan out of the day.

Once the games start to wrap up and the sun begins to fall, the beach will be transformed into a place not for competition, but for camaraderie. Firepits will be set up, framed with logs used for seating, and all the ingredients for s'mores will be freely provided! Sit around the fire for a spell, make some s'mores, play a little music and tell a few stories before the day slowly draws to a close.

A BEACHSIDE MURDER MYSTERY

As 5 PM strikes, all participants in the murder games will be ushered away from the festivities on the beach into a somber looking tent, cordoned off from everyone else. Inside is a lavish enough spread to make one forget that they're still technically on the same grounds as a beach party. The long, intimidating looking table has a pristine white tablecloth draped over it, and each place at the table is set with expensive looking plates and cutlery, with the silver candelabras in the middle of the table setting the mood.

Each imPort will have been given their role in the whole affair before their arrival, so all that's left to do is take a seat, nibble on the hors d'oeuvres and start getting to know each other... and to hope that they're not the first ones killed. The prizes for winning include an all-expense-paid condo in the winner's Porter city of choice, as well as a brand new hovercar; should both killers win, they will be expected to share this prize. Should the voters win, more cars and up to three more condos will be added to the prize pool to be dispersed/shared evenly among the winners.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ D"Artagnan is nowhere near good enough at this game, not yet. He keeps hitting the ball back, and either missing the other side of the court completely, or overhitting it so much that his tutting partner is sent irritably running after the ball.

One such event has taken place when the girl crashes into him. He's just finished giving his own sorry, when she clatters into his side and sends them both into a pile on the sand. She's also basically sitting on him, so he looks up at her with a kind of judgmental sigh.

His skinny jeans are covered in sand. So is his hair. His chest, which is bare, is mostly covered in a steadily growing tan, but there's also enough of it that's pinkish to be irritated by the sand. He sighs. ]

What are you doing? You're not part of the game, where were you going?

[ And also, please get off him any time now, thank you. ]

[ Her first thought is wow.

So is her second and third.

Because he is 100% the hottest thing she has seen in a while. He's beautiful. And very clearly irritated by her. Clary can feel her face start to burn almost immediately, her hands flying away from him so that she can push herself up on to her feet, sand falling from her fingers as she flaps them a little. ] Fuck, I am so --. [ Good going, Clary. Knock over a literal beach god on your first outing! It's a world record. ] I wasn't paying attention. I'm really sorry. Are you okay?

[ She should not be allowed out, she is a menace to society. ]

[ D'Artagnan blows out an annoyed huff of air. He pulls himself back to his feet and dusts himself off, while eyeing the red-haired girl with disapproval. ]

Yes, I'm fine.

[ Somewhat resentfully. He really ought to be nicer here. He should make an effort. ]

But you still shouldn't just wander onto a court. Are you playing, or not?

[ A ball bounces onto the sand at his feet then, and he rolls his eyes with another sigh. Looks like he lost. Scooping it up, he holds it pointedly out to Clary. ]

You might as well take it now.

Um.

[ She should just run out into the sea and drown herself. That is the only way she will ever be rid of this mortification. ] No, actually. I can't play. I was just ... [ What was she doing? Her head was in the clouds. Thinking about what everyone has been telling her. And she hadn't been looking. ] I didn't see the game. I was thinking.

[ She cringes a little at how stupid that sounds and then glances down the stretch of sand. ] Sorry. Again. I'll just --. [ Get out of his way. Die. Hopefully the second. ]

[ Well, she’s obviously flustered. And embarrassed, which makes him feel maybe just a little bit bad. D’Artagnan eyes her, and then rolls his eyes, before pushing the ball into his hands. ]

Anyone can play. I couldn’t play half an hour ago, and now here I am tripping over people to get the chance.

[ He gives her a slight smile, and his eyebrow flicks up. ]

Try it. You might as well.

[ She doesn't want to brain anyone with a volleyball, d'Artagnan. That's clearly not how you make friends. ]

Uh. [ Eloquent as always. ] Okay, just for a second? They don't mind anyone just jumping in, right? [ Because she doesn't want to step on toes. Both literally and metaphorically. ]

[ D'Artagnan shrugs. If they do, no one had told him. ]

I did. And I didn't know how to do it when I started, so don't worry about that.

[ He gestures at the net, and quickly ducks under it to get to the other side. Then he holds his hands out, ready for her to hit the ball over to him. Come on, Clary. Time to prove your mettle. ]

Come on! This time if you hit me, at least you'll have meant to.

Oh my god, fine.

[ It's certainly not what she expected to be doing with her time. She kind of thought there'd be some kind of ceremony to becoming registered. But no, it's all BBQ food and volleyball and Clary getting five hundred more freckles than she'd like.

And also this guy is still so very pretty.

So she rolls the ball in her hands for a moment and then stares at the net. She's got this, she's a Shadowhunter. And so she throws it like one.

She's going to die. ]

[ She's better than he thought; he'd half expected that ball not to make it over the net, given how small this girl is. But she's decent, which catches him off guard a little. He makes a little dive forward to hit it back, and tilts his head at her. ]

That's not bad. Don't expect me to go easy on you.

[ Not that she'd need it, by all accounts. He aims a drop shot back at her, sending the ball very quickly towards the sand. ]

[ Clary tries to stop it from hitting the sand but while she's got strength she's kind of missing the whole co-ordination thing that she needs. So it drops and she almost trips over herself trying to pick it back up again. ]

You spoke too soon, dude. [ But she looks less embarrassed than before. At least he doesn't seem cross with her any more. ] I don't even know the point scoring system.

[ D'Artagnan shakes his head. ]

All you need to know is, I'm winning. You get a point if the other team misses the ball.

[ Not that either one of them is really playing with a team right now. He moves back a bit further ready for her. ]

Try again?

[ She's kind of getting the feeling that winning is what he likes best. Or maybe it's just games in general. ]

Yeah, okay.

[ When he throws the ball again, Clary bounces forward on her feet and catches it with her fist, whacking it back. ] Yes. [ He flings it again, harder and wider but Clary runs after it, socking it over the net again. ] This is kinda fun.

[ This is better, they’ve got a bit of a rally going. Either way, it’s better than him being shoved to the sand.

Of course, he does return to the sand just a moment later when she hits a drop shot, and he has to dive to get it back. He scoops it up, and it hits the top of the net. D’Artagnan scrambles to his feet, watching while it teeters -

And then drops down to land on the sand by his feet. He groans. ]

All right, so now we’re even. [ A glance up at her. ] You’re getting used to it, Mademoiselle?

[ Clary pumps her fist a little when she scores a point. She may be terrible at games but she does have a competitive streak. ] Sure. [ But mademoiselle??? ] It's Clary. You can call me that.

[ He throws the ball and she dives after it, kicking up sand everywhere. Her sneakers are probably full of it by now as she whips it back. ] What's your name?

[ This time d’Artagnan keeps his concentration and hits it back. He doesn’t answer until it’s airborne, when he’s satisfied it’ll give her a challenge. It’s high. ]

I’m d’Artagnan. Clary, is it a nickname? Short for Claire?

[ Clary jumps to try and catch the ball. She has to considering she's so very short. It doesn't work out and she misses, flinging herself into the sand to reach for it. ]

Clarissa. [ She tugs the ball back into her arms and scrambles to her feet. There's sand everywhere. She's going to have to shower for at least an hour later. But the face she pulls is mostly for her dumb name. ] D'Artagnan though? That's so cool. Where are you from?

[ And flinging it back over the net. ]

[ His quick smile at winning a point quickly vanishes as he rushes to hit that ball back again. He manages it, but the shot gives her an easy return. He skips back, anticipating where she might hit it. ]

From Lupiac, in Gascony, and from Paris more recently.

[ A pause. her accent isn't French, and nor is her name. ]

Which means France. Where are you from?

Uh. [ She throws the ball hard and far enough that he'll have to chase it again, getting into the groove of it. ]

Park Slope? In Brooklyn, New York. [ Look! It might be a custom where he's from to list his place of belonging like that. She's already offended him once today. ] Which is America.

[ She skips backwards, kicking up more sand everywhere. God. This is why she's not a beach girl. ]

Which is this country.

[ The last word is a little pinched, while d'Artagnan dives the last couple of metres to hit that ball back. He stands up covered in sand, but is rewarded when the ball flies back over the net.

Worth it. ]

I don't know it that well. Is New York near here?

[ She shrieks a little as she spins to catch it. She fails and glares at him a little, but it's friendly enough. ]

It is. And no. Not really. It's like almost a day away.

[ But that has her wondering if she could get to New York from here. ] Have you ever been to America before this?

[ D'Artagnan lets out a quick little laugh, and a shake of his head. She has no idea how absurd that question seems to him. ]

No. We didn't even call it America, where I'm from, we called it the Colonies, and it's not somewhere we could've just visited.

Going out there was something that changed a person's life. My home was in Paris. It was tempting, but not for me.

The Colonies. [ She stops for a minute, holding the ball to her chest. ] That's so old fashioned.

[ She goes to grin but it's like understanding edges over her face. Spot had been from the 1800s. So why couldn't d'Artagnan? ]

Oh. Because you're old fashioned. [ Was that rude? ] I mean, not that you're -- um. Look I'm new to the whole time travel thing? So if I say something awful please forgive me?

[ D'Artagnan is not used to being called old-fashioned, but he feels it all the same. He knows that he doesn't view the world the same way as most people here. ]

I don't know. You already crashed into me, so that's two grudges I'm holding.

[ He's smiling, though. He's probably kidding. ]

The new world was new, where I'm from. Now I'm living on it. That takes some getting used to.

[ Holding up her hands. ] Hey, hey. I said I was sorry. [ Her smile matches his though, pleased and a little sweet. She's finally relaxing the more they play the game together.

Speaking of, Clary throws the ball back over the net with a pleased little smirk. ] Have you had pizza yet? Or Starbucks? [ She knows there should probably be better things to be excited of re: the new world but she's a sixteen year old girl. ] Or bagels. Your stomach would thank you for it. They're not going to be as good as a proper New York bagel but still delicious.

[ There's a sandy little scramble while d'Artagnan catches that ball, and then serves it back at her. Strictly speaking, that's against the rules, but he very hurriedly moves on from that to keep talking. ]

No. No. And no.

I've had burgers? And there's chocolate and some sort of white thing here, for later. Chocolate is all right. Only the very rich could have afforded that, where I'm from.

C

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