#turtle charm 2

[peerlessscowl]

[ SLIP AND SLIDE ]

" BWAHHHHHGGGGGGGGG!!!!! HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!!!!!!!!! "

who is the curious voice that belts above the roar of the rainstorm this very night? someone calls from the depths of their heart, giving rise to a voice so clear and so panicked that anyone within listening distance would be remiss not to at least turn their head. whomever is the owner of this voice must certainly be fearing for their life.

and, just so, in the distance---there is a man of eighteen years, stuck bottom-first in a pink flamingo-esque flotation device and positively sailing down the wet platforms laid out on top of the sand. that boy can't stop and he sure doesn't have a parking brake.

" RAVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!!!! " fogado bawls, struggling to positively zero avail. negative avail, even. it looks like he's falling over sideways, but the boy keeps slippin'. " YOU GOTTA STOP THIS THING. I'LL GIVE YOU MY CHARM FOR IT!!!!!!!!!! "

The trek back to the manor was an intense slog, but eventually he did find the correct path, and endured the driving rain, the slipping mud, and the immense force of wind until he saw light in the distance, and heard the sounds of life to accompany it.

And. The scream of distress, which at first did not pierce the howling of the wind, until he began to get closer, and saw the streak of pink barrelling down the hill at speeds Raven wouldn't have thought possible on foot - until he saw that the boy was not on foot, indeed.

Ah.

He was headed straight for him.

Huh?

Raven could not have fathomed why the path would have directly put the boy into a collision course with him, but that he did not want to be dragged down alongside Fogado should not have needed to be stated - but neither did he want the kid to get lost at sea, and so in spite of his best judgement he lowered his stance with some determination, and watched the approach cautiously as one might a charging bull, if they had no sense -

And reached down a hand to snatch the protruding neck of the flamingo floatie just as it began to whizz by him. The force made him stumble back, only a step, but that step allowed him to catch his other hand underneath Fogado's armpit and haul him upright, putting a bracing hand on his shoulder.

There was a beat of silence while they caught their breath, then; "You good, buddy?"

[blaiddllodi]

[ POMEGRANATE ] So, like....how does one eat from one of these? It's the question of the night that she didn't expect herself asking, but holds a high regard towards. If this is being served here, there has to be a way to consume it without the sparkling red seeds getting all over oneself. A way to dispose them is also important to know, too, but...but!! She spots another person checking out the pomegranates. Ok, this is her chance. She'll head over, hold a casual conversation, and learn through example. Then she won't make an embarrassment of herself, nor will she stain her outfit! She'll prove she can handle this fabled dish without issue.

"A shame the evening turned the way it did, huh?" She greets, resting her elbows against the table. She looks to the other and, waittttt. Even she knows a face like his. Quickly, eyes dart to the side. She picks up a pomegranate of her own, but doesn't attempt to eat it just yet.

It seemed only a moment ago, with that strange young girl - whose night he perhaps darkened, although she had been the one to broach the heavier topics he need not have engaged so - where these fruits had been in such abundance, and had already come husked.

Now, he stood frowning at them, flummoxed by their fickle nature and dour by lingering thoughts of the underworld, of walking ghosts, the blood that wouldn't leave his hands if he only reached.

Dimitri started, just slightly, at the voice at his shoulder, and he offered the girl a smile. "Indeed. We can be grateful that everyone appears to be no worse for the wear, merely...wet and cold. Ah, be careful - "

He was about to say to be careful with the fruit, that the last time he had attempted to crack one open it had spilled its innards all over the floor, but he stopped himself, watched with interested eyes. Surely she would not have the same issues that he had.

He cleared his throat. "I believe they sit in clusters, just beneath the rind. They are lighter than one might expect, aren't they? Do you need a sharp knife, here let me -" and he reached, found one underneath a separate platter and handed it to her carefully, almost expectantly.

"Pardon, I...where are my manners. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. I haven't gotten your name, but...if you'd like, once we peel this, I'd be delighted to share the seeds with you. And our charms, if you are amenable to that," he added, gesturing to the delicate seashell on his wrist.