pocketcrab:
{✏️}: Elliott’s handshake was firm, yet the smile that accompanied it was warm. He was a tall man, his features defined and hair pristine, and yet he seemed to have a glow about him that radiated a welcoming softness.
Breaking their contact, the writer folded his hands neatly behind his back, “Ah, a wanderer! A burning passion for adventure, or perhaps simply not ready for sedimentary life? I can respect that.”
Turning once more towards the vast open sea, he took in a slow breath, letting it out in another deep sigh. He wondered what life may have been like, had he settled elsewhere, had he wandered.
“I do, though I haven’t long. My cabin is just behind us.” gesturing towards the shore, the man drew his attention to a tiny shack settled in the sand, its wooden walls showing their age. Its look felt mismatched when held against the seemingly high-class dress of the writer. Could there possibly be another cabin nearby?
{{️⚡}}: Well. She certainly wasn’t the type of girl to settle down, so in a way, Elliott was right. Ophelia gave a nod, and a bit of a hum, rocking on her feet, battered sneakers displacing a bit of sand as she did.
The young woman leaned over slightly, to get a look at the cabin. Yes, the modest little shack was a bit of a surprise, but far be it from her to judge him on his sleeping arrangements. It was still better than what she had.
“Cute,” she commented, throwing a little grin at the fancy man before her. “Looks like a good place to camp out. I oughta find me a place like that at some point.” She stretched, glancing around, from the water to the sky and everything in between. “Haven’t really decided where I’m staying yet. I’m that new. Any suggestions?”
