Under the Sea (Open)

[poeticverses]

Characters: Jehan, Grantaire, Byrn, and everyone who wants to join them!
Date: April 23rd, midmorning to late evening
Location: The edge of the turtle!
Situation: Swimming! A picnic! A party!
Warnings/Rating: I'm going to rate this PG-13 for naked/nearly naked people, alcohol, and smoking. Also R's mouth. And apparently terrible mythological comparisons.

[Jehan has never been this happy, he doesn't think. The ocean. The blue, warm ocean. He gets to see it again, gets to swim in it with his friends, gets to enjoy it. He's so happy.

Of course, he's taking a long moment to shed anything but his coat once the group gets to the edge. It's a beautiful shade of blue and he can't not admire it.]


((ooc: go crazy!))

Comments

[cynisme]

[He's not too far off himself, having found himself a spot to sunbathe (read: nap) and nurse his bottle in peace. He had been intending on getting up and moving to a shady spot to avoid cooking when he saw Henry and Bryn, present engaged.

So he was watching, and now can't help but howl out a comment in their direction.]

Be careful with that one, Cherie, you're going to make the poor little Englishman burst from excitement, and all over his finery too.

[It's not, of course, without a snicker.]

[trifurcate]

[Bryn looks over to Grantaire as he yells at she and Henry, and immediately grasping what he's saying, shifts her weight to one foot. Really, Henry's reaction is extremely funny and she is doing her best not to laugh but for Grantaire to draw attention so loudly means, well, now she has to come to Henry's defense. So she yells back somewhat saucily:]

What, you mean like you did that night after the bar?

[Then turns back to Henry.]

Take your time, I'll be in the water.

[And with no small amount of attitude and confidence in her walk, she heads off.]

[epigrammatical]

[Well, if anything could shake Henry loose from his state of shock, Grantaire's potshot and Bryn's reaction did the trick. Laughing now and also determined not to be shown up, he divests himself of his clothing, hesitating for a moment over his drawers.

The hell with it. For one thing, he is not going to go back to the city in wet underclothes, and for another, he is not having Grantaire laugh at him any more than is necessary.

So the ensuing strip and stride to the water isn't quite as glorious as this, but it's damn close.]

[trifurcate]

[Bryn has been raised to be a lady. She's been raised to know which fork to use when, who to address first when meeting a Kidiar Bha and an Erutem at the same time. She can dance, make polite conversation, and entertain company of her family's rank and class.

None of that keeps her from looking over her shoulder at Henry as he follows her toward the water, because as much as she is a lady, she is also just a mere human with more curiosity than she ought to have. Her expression is entirely appreciative (he looks good for a man his age) before she turns back to the ocean and jogs into the water--

--and apparently reaches the edge of the shell sooner than expected. Bryn drops down into the water with a splash.]

[epigrammatical]

[Henry is used to women's gazes being coy; frankness is an entirely new experience—and the pleasure of novelty is at war with an unwonted self-consciousness. Nevertheless he is determined not to be ridiculous—

And when Bryn slips off the edge of the shell, some measure of old English gallantry (that even he wasn't sure he had) kicks in; he dives in and starts to swim out to assist her.]

[trifurcate]

[Bryn really had thought she had another ten feet or so before reaching the edge, but apparently she misjudged how far the shell extended. Falling into the water like she has is nothing more than a shock, one she'd laugh at if she were not holding her breath.

She's in the process of swimming back up to the surface when she sees Henry diving into the water toward her.]

[epigrammatical]

[He's about halfway there when he sees that she isn't drowning or sinking, and so he pulls up short and surfaces.]

Are you quite all right?

[trifurcate]

[She surfaces as well, immediately reaching up to clear her hair from her face, and then she laughs as her heartbeat settles somewhat.]

Oh yes, I'm fine. That first step was completely unexpected. Were you coming to rescue me?

[epigrammatical]

[He has the grace to look somewhat abashed. It may or may not be an act.]

I was prepared to lend my assistance if you needed it, yes.

[trifurcate]

[If it's an act, Bryn can't tell. Immediately sympathetic (she wasn't making fun of him, honest!) she swims closer, and cups his cheek in one hand as she kisses the other.]

Then I'm glad to know if I develop a cramp you won't leave me to fend for myself.

[She swims backwards immediately after to give him space, and treads water nearby entirely at ease.]

[epigrammatical]

[The sudden proximity and their state of undress threatens his equilibrium again for just a moment, but he remains outwardly unruffled.]

I shouldn't dream of it, my dear.

[trifurcate]

[Sorry Henry, but even as happy as Bryn is, the effect of Tu Vishan means she's far more likely to be affectionate with her friends, in whatever state of dress or undress she's in.]

When is the last time you've gone swimming anyway? Has it been a long time or do you go often back home?

[epigrammatical]

[Henry actually has to think about it.]

I have been to the seaside as recently as last year, but one rarely swims there these days—one promenades, or sits by the ocean thinking poetical thoughts, or wishing one were back in London, where later one will wish one was at the seaside. No, it has been more years than I care to think of since I have been swimming like this.

[Oxford? Or a time he and Basil were out at Basil's family country house? It bothers him that he can't quite remember.]

[trifurcate]

[Drifting around in Henry's general vicinity, Bryn cocks her head to the side as Henry comments on the contrariness of those in his society, but smiles all the same.]

Then I'm glad to have drawn you into it. It's wonderful, isn't it? Entirely freeing. It's moments like these that I feel as if I'm part of the world around me instead of simply existing in it. I'm just disappointed I don't have fins.

[epigrammatical]

Ah, that is what it is to truly live—to immerse oneself in experience. Quite literally, in this case. [A smirk. It's an uncharacteristically ridiculous joke for him.] You would make a very fetching mermaid, I should think.

[trifurcate]

[The joke makes her smile wider, however, as she takes it as a sign that he's giving in to the joy of the day by letting himself speak as he pleases.]

All shining scales and a garland of seaweed and pearls for my hair perhaps? You would probably look magnificent as well, come to think of it.

[epigrammatical]

[He laughs.] I never fancied myself a Triton, I confess, and my friends are more likely to call me a satyr, if they must name me as any creature of antiquity.

[trifurcate]

It doesn't seem quite the right fit for you, I agree. Let's see. We've talked of graces, naiads, mermaids, and now satyrs. What are their defining characteristics?

[epigrammatical]

[Henry drifts idly in the water as he speaks, gaze somewhere off in middle distance.]

A naiad might be mistaken for an ordinary human girl, it was said; they inhabited streams and rivers and the like. Satyrs were part of the retinue of Dionysus, the Greek wine-god; they were said to be distinguished by goat-like ears and beard, and in some interpretations, with the lower body of a goat as well.

[He smirks.] The satyrs were very fond of feminine company as well.

This is a bad idea in so many ways, for so many reasons...

[trifurcate]

[Swimming closer, she gives his beard a look.]

Well you certainly have the beard, though I'm afraid your ears are not at all goat-like.

[She smiles a bit wider, enjoying joking this way.]

I know your fond of wine and feminine company...all that remains is...

[Trailing off, she dives under water.]

so bad.

[epigrammatical]

[It takes him a moment to realise what she's up to.

Were this some play in the privacy of the bedchamber he would simply relax and let her have her way, and let matters go where they will. But they are out in public, in front of other people.

Which is why he abruptly splashes backward in a startled attempt to evade her.]

[trifurcate]

[The thing is she's not intending to do anything, just swim down as if she's going to check for goat legs. Really she just swims down a bit and resurfaces off to the side, immediately running her hands over her hair to slick it out of her face.]

No goat legs, but perhaps I can see why they might make the comparison.

[She gives him a cheeky grin, enjoying for once being able to fluster the usually unflappable Lord Henry Wotton.]

[epigrammatical]

[...That's not what she means. He is quite sure that is not what she means.

Well, so much the better to make her blush, then. Fair's fair.]

My dear Bryn, I wasn't aware that you were so familiar with matters of animal husbandry.

[trifurcate]

[She doesn't get what he means at first. She hadn't been talking about that, she had been talking about the earlier commonalities! The beard! The thing for feminine company! Associations with gods of wine (who didn't love a good glass?).

The realization strikes in an instant and Bryn's eyes go wide and her jaw drops. She laughs but it's not one of amusement but of being flabbergasted as she sputters.]

Henry I didn't--I mean--that wasn't what I was--I didn't check that.

[epigrammatical]

[And Henry just laughs.]