[Hazel wasn't being polite when she'd accepted this invitation - she really was excited. she's got a totally inconspicuous hoodie on, less because she's capable of feeling the chill and more to obscure the wetsuit she's wearing underneath it. no need to walk around completely in swimwear unless she has to, even the kind that covers up most of her stitching.
she's valiantly avoiding the depression that is the provided food, although she is absolutely roasting marshmallows and thrusting them into random people's hands throughout the night, because there's no way you come to a bonfire without doing that. there's no declining anything she offers you without a fight, by the way.
when she isn't digging her exposed toes into the sand and luxuriating in the crackle of a fire she can't feel, Hazel can typically be found traipsing back and forth in search of more driftwood to toss into the fire. there's something satisfying about the hissing and shifting brought on by adding more fuel to the massive thing, and she'd rather focus on that than dwell on the sad fact she's tonight's Sober Sally by her very nature. her aim isn't always the best, however, so uh. watch out for flying branches.]
two;
[at some point later in the night she doesn't return from one of her forays for additional bonfire fodder. it doesn't take much work to find her - she's a healthy distance away from the group, skipping rocks out over the little waves. although she's done this because she needs a moment or two to try and stomp those college memories back down where they belong, she isn't actually averse to company should anyone come and investigate.]
three;
[some time after that, however, is a different story. there's been a few things Hazel's been wondering about ever since she arrived in Florida, what with its plethora of beaches, and now seems like a good time to investigate it and cull her restlessness all in one go. casting a worried look back at the fire to make sure no one is watching, she carefully unzips her hoodie and folds it before letting it rest as a place marker on the beach.
that done, she slowly wades out into the water, coming to a halt only when she's deep enough that her feet can no longer find the bottom without assistance. for a moment she simply floats there; then, with a small bob, she dives below the surface.
she does not come back up.
Hazel has an explanation if she was stupid and didn't notice someone watching and timing this, but she's really hoping that there's no occasion to use it. she's been having a nice time, and she doesn't want to ruin it just because (among other things) she wants to see if there's any upper limits on her no longer needing to breathe.]
no subject
[Hazel wasn't being polite when she'd accepted this invitation - she really was excited. she's got a totally inconspicuous hoodie on, less because she's capable of feeling the chill and more to obscure the wetsuit she's wearing underneath it. no need to walk around completely in swimwear unless she has to, even the kind that covers up most of her stitching.
she's valiantly avoiding the depression that is the provided food, although she is absolutely roasting marshmallows and thrusting them into random people's hands throughout the night, because there's no way you come to a bonfire without doing that. there's no declining anything she offers you without a fight, by the way.
when she isn't digging her exposed toes into the sand and luxuriating in the crackle of a fire she can't feel, Hazel can typically be found traipsing back and forth in search of more driftwood to toss into the fire. there's something satisfying about the hissing and shifting brought on by adding more fuel to the massive thing, and she'd rather focus on that than dwell on the sad fact she's tonight's Sober Sally by her very nature. her aim isn't always the best, however, so uh. watch out for flying branches.]
two;
[at some point later in the night she doesn't return from one of her forays for additional bonfire fodder. it doesn't take much work to find her - she's a healthy distance away from the group, skipping rocks out over the little waves. although she's done this because she needs a moment or two to try and stomp those college memories back down where they belong, she isn't actually averse to company should anyone come and investigate.]
three;
[some time after that, however, is a different story. there's been a few things Hazel's been wondering about ever since she arrived in Florida, what with its plethora of beaches, and now seems like a good time to investigate it and cull her restlessness all in one go. casting a worried look back at the fire to make sure no one is watching, she carefully unzips her hoodie and folds it before letting it rest as a place marker on the beach.
that done, she slowly wades out into the water, coming to a halt only when she's deep enough that her feet can no longer find the bottom without assistance. for a moment she simply floats there; then, with a small bob, she dives below the surface.
she does not come back up.
Hazel has an explanation if she was stupid and didn't notice someone watching and timing this, but she's really hoping that there's no occasion to use it. she's been having a nice time, and she doesn't want to ruin it just because (among other things) she wants to see if there's any upper limits on her no longer needing to breathe.]