taxonomites | [ location: bronte beach ] let that igloo cooler mark your piece of paradise.

Buffy Summers has to step back and look upon this endeavor with pride. She has wreaked so much destruction in her so-far-so-short life; to see something so bordering right on the cusp of actual, non-horrific fun? It feels her with a kind of personal pride that she hasn't felt outside the realm of slaying for quite a long while.

She digs her toes into the sand and adjusts the knot of her long, beachy-appropriate sarong. And then she confidently joins the social fray, grabbing an iced tea before looking for friends and family to share the fourth with.

Willow heads over to Buffy as soon as she's got the fireworks all set up and out of the way. They're protected so they can't be accidentally set off early. But her friend needs to know, so Willow's searching.

"Hey! I got the fireworks ready!"

Willow has been looking forward to this since the moment she first heard about it. A beach party is just what everyone needs. She's got the fireworks all ready - they're currently out of the way behind a big force barrier so no one can accidentally set them off early - and now she's hanging out either by the water, in the water, or on a blanket in the sun. She's been looking for people she knows, though the sight of all those Extras gives her the chills. She's making sure to stay far away from them. Creepy buggers.

As to be expected, Angel is not dressed properly for a beach party. The promise he made to Buffy was to show up and attempt to have a good time, not to dress for the occasion. At least he was sensible enough to leave his trademark long, black coat at the hotel as to not give himself a heat stroke. He'd passed out from that once in hell and if it hadn't been for the dragon, the demons he'd been fighting at the time would've taken advantage of that.

He no longer has inherent stealth on his side, but he no longer gives off vampire vibes, either. Not while glitched like this, so he's unsure of whether or not him coming up behind Buffy like this will startle the Slayer or not.

"Hey."

Normally, she's quite good at watching out for abrupt arrivals -- vampiric or not; however, Buffy is in fun mode. So as she retied her sarong over a rather modest tankini, she fell victim to a thing she did not often experience. Startlement.

"Holy sh--Angel." She whipped about, first looking concerned and then breaking into a warm smile. "You made it."

"I'm not one to go back on my promises."

On his end, there was a certain amount of palpable awkwardness, that while could be attributed to his recent revealing of the son he previously hadn't told her about, had nothing to do with Connor. It had everything to do with being human. The first time he'd been human, if only briefly for that one day, it had been shared with her. Being human again and being around her did well at dragging those memories up from the depths of his mind he'd cast them into. Memories that would forever be his to burden alone.

"Looks... beachy."

Oh. Wow. The complete and utter lack of there is a vampire next to you was felt like a keen, keen absence. But Buffy found herself exalting a little in it. Angel might have said that he would prefer it otherwise, but she found it difficult not to celebrate this glitch.

"That's kinda the point of coming to a beach, you know." A sly smile. She reached down into a cooler at her feet and tugged free a cold root beer -- holding it out to him.

A quick, one-armed hug.

"...Awesome. And food's here and people are showing up and I've got a good feeling about this one, Will. We might just manage a whole shindig without any fatalities."

[ Glitch was a native of a land-locked kingdom, so he didn't have much - or indeed any - experience with oceans. still he came prepared: all sunblocked-up and behatted and toting a picnic basket. and a frisbee.

good times. ]

ooc: I'm not feeling espeically prosey right now, but that is subject to change. feel free to reply in whatever format.

[ one witch plus one zipperhead equals.... who knows. as soon as she spots glitch, willow heads on over with a wave. ]

Glitch!

"I wouldn't know. Usually there's this whole bursting into flames thing that I try to avoid."

Not here, but back home. Angel had actually been on the beach in LA during the day, before, though. During that brief period when he'd had the ring on before he destroyed it, before Cordelia had declared his torn shirt and battered post-fight state was getting one too many stares and convinced him to get back in Oz's van and at least go home to put on another shirt before he ventured out again. He never did.

Root beer? He recognizes it, knows it's soda, but it was never something he stopped to try. He didn't have the taste buds for it until now.

Angel reaches out to grab it from her, fingers brushing against her own. Instead of taking it from her, he slides his fingers over the back of her hand to her wrist, amazed at how temperate she feels against his skin. Such a stark contrast to how warm and hot a human's skin normally felt against his own. He forgot what that was like, to touch another whose body temperature was the same as his own instead of much warmer than his would ever be.

Brennan doesn't usually bother much with parties, or going to the beach. Today, however, she's making an exception - the weather is too nice to spend indoors and honestly, she could use the change. Besides, a gathering like this is always a good chance to observe the crowd, the anthropologist in her pinged by the idea of people-watching.

Tucking her hands into the pockets of her cotton shorts, Brennan gazes at the people milling about curiously. Angela would enjoy a party like this, she suddenly thinks with a touch of wistfulness. So would Booth. Much as Brennan takes comfort in the fact that her friends are back home where they belonged, she still misses them.

On a whim, she takes off her flip-flops and digs her toes into the hot sand, smiling with an almost child-like glee at the sensation. Inhaling the salty air, she straightens and takes a few moments to admire the rolling surf before moving onward.

Dusk is still a ways off when Dick arrives at the beach. He catches a whiff of the ocean before he sees it, feels the dip in temperature. Then there it is: an endless stretch of blue.

He kicks off his shoes and makes a mad dash for the water, arms pumping, the sand giving under his feet. He wades just deep enough for the waves to lick at ankles, then turns and races back to the hot sand.

Long is some distance back, letting one excited small Whitman charge ahead and romp around the beach like a dog might under similar circumstances. He's not entirely certain what the protocols for taking children on beach outings might be, but common sense has served him well enough so far. Dick has assured him he knows how to swim, which logically is the most important thing.

Long sets about unloading his armful of beach items-- the hatches have been helpful in this regard. There are two folding beach chairs, and an umbrella that is striped with alternate white and a sort of sherbet orange which offends his sensibilities, but beggars may not be choosers. He sets the items up in the sand, well back from the waves. Long doesn't care for water.

The other items the hatches had spat out at him: sunglasses, a straw hat, a towel, a bottle of-- he peers at it-- oh yes-- sunscreen. He knows what it is, even if he's never remotely had need for the stuff.

He'll call Dick over and tell him to put it on in just a bit. For now he settles down into one of the chairs with a paperback book, glancing up to notice other citizens arriving at the beach, and what seems to be more Extras than normal.

Buffy and Angel had spent a decent amount of time together in this strange city -- familiar faces gravitated towards one another, after all. And there was a bond that would be too tough to shake despite rather divergent romantic intentions. She hesitated to call it friendship but figured that some alternative definition for this kind of companionship was necessary. Nigh-friendly exes. But even without this proximity in Taxon, she would have no tough time remembering his touch on her skin and she had, at heart, expected it to be cool. Comfortably, reliably cool. So when she feels warmth on her warmth, there is a nearly silent gasp that escapes past her lips.

She has to draw back and leave the can in his hands, then preoccupy herself with fetching her own. She works the tab on the top with more concentration than she needs to.

"Right. Flames bad. Though here, with the fake sun...never mind. It's even better if you get to experience the whole thing as legitly human. You're gonna have to eat a hot dog."

Eowyn had followed some of the Extras to the beach. She had heard of someone planning a celebration of some sort there, and she decided to go. Of course, the Lady of Rohan didn't think this was any time to celebrate anything, but the chances of meeting more people to add to her rather short list of allies was something she couldn't pass up. Besides, Eowyn had never seen the ocean. It was tempting to go just to see the beauty of it.

Unfortunately, the fact that the Extras were there put a bit of a damper on things, but she could ignore them. When Eowyn got to the sandy shore, she took off her slippers and carried them with her. She walked towards the waves and came up to the more lively people. The ones who looked to be intelligent beings and not zombies anyway. She stopped short next to a red-haired girl she had seen on a video when she had first arrived. She gazed at her, then looked up and stared at everyone else. Why were they so....naked? Eowyn blushed and looked down, finally addressing the young woman close to her.

"Why is it everyone wears so little? Are you not ashamed?"

Willow returns that hug with a grin.

"I think you're right. Nothing's gonna ruin this one, not even the Extras! They can just be creepy off to the side where no one wants to talk to them."

She's pretty sure they will never stop being creepy to her, especially after what Tara said about them feeling hollow and lifeless.

"I believe in you, Buffy. This will be the best party Taxon's ever seen."

Willow isn't really paying much attention to who's walking around her, but when she notices Eowyn she grins and waves. A frown takes the smile's place a moment later and she blinks in confusion at the other girl.

"Uh... we're not in the Middle Ages anymore..."

Though, that might explain a lot of what this woman has been saying.

"It's okay to wear things like this. It's a swimming suit, something designed for, y'know, going into the water."

Jason is not one to miss a party, and certainly not one on a beach of all things. He's dressed in a pair of bright red swim trunks and on his way to the shore when a boy begins running in his direction. It doesn't occur to him that one generally doesn't see children within the city.

"Whoa buddy, the water's that way."

The boy charging up the beach comes to an abrupt halt--nearly pitching forward into the sand--and commences happily gasping for breath. His still-dry swimsuit is royal blue, extends from his shoulders to his knees, and looks more than a little like a wrestling singlet.

He squints up at the man and nods, momentarily overcome with a stupid, selfish desire to have the ocean to himself.

"What?" Buffy speaking up and pulling away snapped him out his thoughts, dragging them back into reality from being so entranced by the feel of human skin on against that of another human. She felt the same, yet different. It was fascinating, but-- "Oh. Right. Uh, sorry."

Angel recoiled somewhat, taking a step back and shifting the can from one hand to the other, instead focusing on how cold it was and not other things that really aren't meant to be pondered anymore. Those doors had been shut long ago, regardless of not being shut properly. The last thing Angel needed to do right now was try and open them again.

He looked up, slightly wary. "Did you cook it?" It wasn't his fault her cooking skills, or lack thereof, were a touch infamous.

Being seen in public with Katherine was something Stefan knew he was going to have to do sooner or later, and better he suggest it than wait around for her to drag him off somewhere again, like when they went to to the mall while unable to converse in English. It was a step further towards making this seem as real as possible, and he while he did wonder if he was doing this for the sake of his grand scheme or because he genuinely wanted to (he had difficulty discerning his own feelings and actions as of later), he tried not to think about it.

Today, he would have fun and try and be the normal teenage boy he allowed most of Taxon to believe he was; get some sun and relax for a change. It was a party, after all.

Stefan selected a spot just shy of the surf and sat down in the sand, clad in a plain white t-shirt and red swim trunks complete with sunglasses and flip-flops. Katherine should be here soon. He just hoped they didn't run into anyone who would take offense to the two of them and potentially cause a scene. The beach was big enough and full of enough people to keep everyone in their separate corners, right?

Liz didn't exactly have the fondest of memories of parties, but she wasn't about to let that stop her from attending this one. While she doubted she'd ever warm up to Taxon itself, she'd warmed up to the people trapped here with her a lot. There was no harm in socializing and attending an event that was so normal in contrast to the other things they'd been through as of late. People just being people for a change. She liked the sound of that.

She scans the beach for someone she recognizes, not too keen on standing by idly waiting for someone to talk to her first - or one of the natives to try and converse with her. The Extras still weirded her out. Spotting a familiar face, Liz jogged on over to her. "Dr. Brennan!"

With a slow smile that was at least sincere in its arrival, Buffy took an escapist's swig of root beer. Banish that dry, uncomfortable feeling in her mouth with the bubbles and the dull sugary ache that was so very delectable about a good soda. Except in drinking it she only managed to remind herself that Angel will get to experience this now, too. Had he drank it, she wondered, during his undid year? Had he taken the time to sink into his senses and enjoy even a moment of it?

No. She doubted it.

"...What? Do you think you actually have the right to be picky? It's not like it's that easy to ruin a hot dog..." She rolled her eyes -- friendly-like. "But no. I kept my fingers out of that to-do list item."

Buffy wonders, then, if it was odd that she has a strange sort of soft spot for the Extras. Sure -- they are creepy; however, interacting with them at the planetarium gift shop has given her a kind of appreciation for a crowd of individuals who never questioned her Slayerness or who never made her feel like the knowledge-balance was uneven. It can be tricky, talking to other city-dwellers. She never knows when they know more about her than they let on. The Extras are a break from that.

"...Really? That -- wow, that kinda means either this really is fab or Taxon's had some really sad parties."

[ location: bronte beach ] let that igloo cooler mark your piece of paradise.

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later on when this fire is an ember;

later on when this fire is an ember;

later on when this fire is an ember;

later on when this fire is an ember;

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the ocean breathes salty;

the ocean breathes salty;

later on when this fire is an ember;

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[Location]

later on when this fire is an ember;

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later on when this fire is an ember;

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watching the clouds roll by;

later on when this fire is an ember;

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