starter for @seafoam-surfers | nikoma & reece
Nikoma's eyelids split open, as salt spray hit his face, and the horrid sun cooked his denim-clad body. The first thing he saw was sand - he was face down in the disgustingly warm material, it’s fine grains seemingly worked its way into each and every crevice in his body.
Next, he saw the ocean, and some weird-ass bird sitting just past the waves. Nope, not a bird. A surfer, with dark brown hair and a blue board. Surfers. He must not be in Pelican Town. He dragged himself to his knees, scanning his immediate surroundings, the heavenly glare blinding him almost completely.
A van. Green - or blue, or something. Nikoma didn’t know colours. A burnt out fire pit, surrounded by neat piles of beer cans - and an empty bottle of whiskey. And next to them all, reclined a man, shirt off, sunglasses on, beer in hand. It couldn’t have been any later than 10 AM.
The man looked at him, grinning, and the monster hunter couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “What the fuck...” He couldn’t pull his amber glare off the tanned man lounging on the beach - something about the guy made Nikoma irrationally irate.