#lina 01

[reclusiveharry]

In the jungle around the beach, close to nightfall. @lina-delgado

The whole damn point of setting up camp in the jungle around the beach was to avoid people as much as possible. And yet, just as she was settling in to rest as much as she could before the whisper in the back of her mind kept hissing about returning to her damn tree, Harry felt footsteps. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the vibrations didn't go away. They bugged her, the pitter patter of human feet, a circling pattern through the undergrowth that Harry had long since catagorised as the footsteps of a person lost. Harry grumbled to herself and fetched her go-bag, heading in the direction of the footsteps. The sun was going down fast, they may not have time to get back to the beach before it got dark. Just wonderful.

[poignant-wcb]

At a scenic cliff lookout near the High Farm  @lina-delgado​

Everything was different, but the same. Wenzel had returned to the beach, knowing it would be different. The Beast's rampage had changed everything before Wenzelslaus had left, so he could hardly expect for it all to remain the same when he returned. But he had hardly expected there to be more people, strangers who called the beach South Beach, strangers who lived in his hut, strangers who talked to each other in their strange accents.

Wenzel needed time to process everything, so he found himself drawn to the same-but-different lookout he'd been drawn to over the years. Wenzel sat himself down near where the cliff met the sea, enjoying the cool sea breeze that buffeted his face. It was quiet here, even if around the corner there was the second, smaller farm built up.

But Wenzel's solitude didn't last. He heard footsteps behind him, turned to face whoever had decided to interrupt his silent brooding. He squinted hopelessly at the moving blur of shapes and colours that approached. He'd safely put his glasses somewhere when the Beast had attacked, except in the mess of... everything that had followed, his glasses had gone missing. Or he couldn't remember where he put them. The constant curse of the short-sighted. Long brown hair, they were the right size and shape... 

"Lina?" he asked, hoping it was her. Hoping for a thread of normalcy.