July Mini Event - Seaside Sway

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It’s the end of July. Summer is peaking, hitting its stride. In the forest, frogs sing and fireflies dance through the night, and dragonflies go about their business in the sun. In town, farmers roll up their sleeves and young ladies swap out their many layers for breezy floral gowns. And on the beach, swimmers take to the sea for water at its warmest and young crabs climb up from the sun-drenched sand. Kora’s glory at its finest!

For about a week now, a flier has been up on the community bulletin board. :

Midsummer Beach Festival!

Join us on July 21st and 22nd for our annual beach bash!

Organized by the Temple of Sacred Roots in tandem with Town Hall, all townsfolk are invited to join in for seaside festivities in honor of the height of summer. Activities will include:

• Live music (Sign-ups for performers will be available at Empty Pockets Music Bar)
• Locally made strawberry wine from last summer’s strawberries
• Beach pit barbecues for lunch on both days
• A hot food banquet for dinner on the 21st
• A fish fry breakfast on the 22nd
• Paper lantern float
• Beach games
• Tents and bed rolls for beach camping

We look forward to seeing you there!

And, as promised, the festival opens up on the afternoon of July 21st, where the smell of barbecue rises up from Tawny Beach. Tables sit on wooden plinths to avoid sinking in the sand, bearing fresh summer fruit and drinks. Pork, fish, and lamb roast in a sand pit. Enchanted barrels covered in magic frost keep frozen treats like orange juice shaved ice and strawberry sorbet cold. A station for assembling little wood-and-paper floating lanterns can be seen off in the distance and Cormac and the Banshees are setting up for their opening set. Tents and bed rolls have been set up toward the Marina. Literally everything is decorated with thin golden coins on strands of twine, sea shells, and sea glass. In the center of it all, stones have been laid into the shape of a massive compass rose, whose center houses the makings of a bonfire.

Those who were here last year will recognize that this festival is much larger than last year’s, and was not preceded with desperate pleas from Town Hall for help providing food and decor. It speaks plainly to the health of the town now. Even with all that has been going on, the growing population and renewed sense of community and purpose have improved matters around the island considerably.

Near the tent area, a family of crabs (one red, one blue, and three purple) can be observed. The small purple ones are poking each other with sticks. The Limoncello has made port, and Royal and his crew are splitting helper duty with the staff of Town Hall, and are dancing and partying the rest of the time. All is as it should be. For once, there is no dangerous surprise lurking in the shadows.

So, what’s on your agenda? During the day, volleyball, swimming, and a game that involves throwing small fabric sacks of dry lentils into wooden hoops in the sand can be enjoyed, alongside a plethora of frozen treats. At night, food and wine and lemonade are served at the banquet tables and lively music plays on the temporary wooden stage for dancing by firelight. There is also the lantern float, which encourages participants to send a glowing lantern out on the water in honor of the lost and the distant, ending the first night in a moment of peaceful sobriety. You may also notice a charming stranger milling around, cozying up to Royal, and drinking after nightfall--- a woman with dark olive skin, raven hair that soaks up the firelight, and rum brown eyes who wears a billowing blue dress and (whenever she hasn’t placed it onto someone else’s head for fun) a wide-brimmed black hat.

Then, at night, camp on the beach under the stars or head home by additional lantern light. The festivities will continue until the following afternoon! Feel free to share your beach fit in the fashion show thread below, as well. Enjoy!

Comments

[goodweather]

Phil doesn't know this kid. He doesn't even know what he's like on a normal day; he's only known him drunk for about ten minutes. But he does know that this kid is sensitive and probably thoughtful, and a war veteran, and Phil knows the weight of his own words about lights in the dark. His thoughts ring with an attentiveness, like instruments tuning while a voice hums something it knows, adjusting and wondering until he can bring all of it into harmony and make it all make sense.

He reaches out carefully to set a hand on Radar's shoulder, and squeezes. "It's hard being alone. Good thing they're not, ehn?"

[incomingchoppers]

It's a strangely pretty sound. Unsorted, but not chaotic, each piece a beautiful note in its own right even as it searches for the company of its fellows. Radar tries to focus on Phil and tune out the rest of the noise surrounding them -- and it kinda works: between that and the hand on his shoulder, the tears back down before they get too embarrasingly bad.

He wipes his eyes clear. "Yeah." And thinks to add, "'M okay, I promise. It was just such a big screwup. Me'n Hawkeye talked and I apl -- apo... said I was sorry. And I know better next time. I know I can't do nothin' more than that but I really wish I hadn't messed up so bad in the first place."

[goodweather]

“That’s the only way we know better, unfortunately. If someone doesn’t tell us first, we screw up first, and then they tell us. It’s okay to feel bad; emotions are there to tell you something, too. The trick is that even though you’ve gotta welcome them in to visit, you can’t let ‘em overstay.”

His hand draws back. Two notes begin to resolve, then draw away again. “Speaking of… did anybody actually teach you how to drink?”

He knows there’s about a 15% chance of this meeting being retained in the morning, but he may as well.

[incomingchoppers]

"..."

Radar squints at Phil like he just said speaking of which, the capital of Portugal is Lisbon. He can't even fathom what those two statements have in common. "Nobody had to teach me," he says, with all the drunken aplomb he can muster. "I know what to do. S'not hard."

Which... is pretty much the same thing he said the first time someone shoved a drink into his hand in Uijeongbu, even though he'd never done worse than steal a few sips of Uncle Ed's whiskey before. As if Radar was ever gonna admit otherwise.

[goodweather]

Nobody had to teach me means nobody taught me. Ah, well.

"Let me rephrase. Of course you know how to drink, you're doing it right now. But did anybody teach you the tricks people use to handle their alcohol? And make the hangovers at least a little less terrible?"

[incomingchoppers]

"Well, you just gotta sleep as much as y'can and take some aspirin in the morning," says Radar with a loose shrug. "I know that too."

He leans closer to Phil like he's imparting a deep secret, pointing a slightly meandering finger at him.

"Also... y'don't wanna switch your glasses with anyone when you wake up. That makes it way, way worse."

[goodweather]

Phil nods very sagely. He thinks about Hawk telling him about the farm life Radar comes from, how young he was in the Army. A chord resolves in his head; a complete thought, a confirmed insight. And with its resolution, a leading line begins to layer itself on top: I think I know where to take this.

"Right. That's all true. There's a couple of other tips, though."

He holds up one talon. "First, you drink a lotta water with it. That dilutes the alcohol so you don't get as drunk as fast. And alcohol tends to dehydrate you, so it keeps you more healthy too." And a second talon: "Second, you wanna have plenty of food with it. The food absorbs the alcohol instead of going straight into your intestines, so that paces out how fast you get drunk, too. Food and water. Got it?"

[incomingchoppers]

"Yeah? Where? -- Oh," he says, realizing Phil didn't say that part out loud, and holds onto his knee tighter for balance as he listens.

It's a little tricky. He keeps getting distracted: first by the melodic ebb and flow that buffets Phil's words, then by the talons, because bless Radar's heart but he was far too drunk to notice them before. It's not a big deal -- he's met Cerrit already! Phil must be kinda like him! -- but he struggles not to go a bit cross-eyed as he focuses on them.

"Got it. Food'n water," he echoes. "...But I did eat a bunch. The food's real, real, real good. Hey, y'should have some if you haven't already!"

[goodweather]

His head tilts at what reads to Phil as a thought come from nowhere, but maybe Radar just had a train of thought between ideas A and E that wasn't very linear. He's met abstract thinkers like that before.

He chuckles. "I ate plenty and then some, believe me. I guess you drank so much that you outpaced how much you ate. Not that I blame you. It's a party! The only reason I'm not drunk right now is because I've still got a kid to look after." Honestly, Darcy is probably the only reason he hasn't fallen back into alcoholism altogether, given everything.

"I saw you looking at my hands. Are you curious?"

[incomingchoppers]

"My mom said it's rude to stare," says Radar, very seriously. Couldn't be him!

A beat.

In the exact same tone, "Uh-huh. 'M curious."

[goodweather]

Phil smiles, holding out his hand for Radar to inspect.

They're much like bird feet at the ends of his fingers. There are black talons curving out from where his fingernails should be. Scales emerge from them, fading back into skin before they reach the knuckles. Radar's closest comparison would likely be his chickens, the little raptors that they are, but these claws are different; though perfectly capable of bloodshed, the chicken's feet are for scratching and digging at the dirt. Phil's talons are hooked. They have the telltale scratches of having been filed and ground down to harmless nubs, without which they would have no doubt been pitiless weapons, meant to grab and never let go.

"I'm part owl," he explains. "So I've got a lot of bird stuff going on, including these. Thankfully they don't get in the way of too much. I can still pay piano, although it took some time to figure out."

[incomingchoppers]

"Oh, wow," says Radar, awed. After a few fumbling attempts, he catches one of Phil's talons so he can bring it closer and squint at it. "Y'know there's another bird guy I met here, but'm pretty sure he's an eg, eeg, uh, not an owl. And he's a bird all over. Got a beak'n everything."

He sputters a tiny giggle.

"I dunno how you play the piano -- how d'you even scratch your nose? Oh, hey, can you see in the dark, too?" His eyes widen; he drops Phil's hand and lowers his voice to a hush. "D'you have to eat mice?"

[goodweather]

“Eagle? Yeah, I’ve met Cerrit. Good guy.”

He watches Radar inspect his hands, amused. “My diet’s the same as yours, and I still scratch my nose with my talon. I just have to be a little more careful. And yes—I do see in the dark. Really well. I could probably go my whole life without turning on another light.” Which is a bit of an exaggeration, because lamps are still convenient, but hey.

“And, I’ve got an extra eyelid like owls do. See?” He points at his face; a nictitating membrane, milky and opaque, slides over his eyes from the inside ends to out.

[incomingchoppers]

Radar doesn't exactly yelp, but the tiny, startled noise he makes is definitely a couple pitches higher than his usual tone. He stares, agog, visibly trying to figure out if he just drunkenly hallucinated that, before he finally breaks into another delighted grin.

"I had no idea owls've got those! Wow. What're they for?"

[goodweather]

Radar’s grin is met in turn. He’s having a lot of fun with this. Not everyone is so interested in all his nature facts. Darcy’s never complained, and it’s not like it annoys them, but Phil knows they mostly tolerate it because it makes him happy.

“Think of them like goggles. They’re like your regular eyelids, but they’re a little more transparent, so you can still kind of see through it. For birds of prey, that’s useful for when they’re hunting prey and need to dive, but don’t want all that wind and debris in their eyes. Animals like crocs and gators have them too—like swimming goggles.”

[incomingchoppers]

"Wow," he says again, rapt. "Permanent goggles y'can just, just pull out whenever you want! 'S so handy." A wistful sigh. "Wish I was part owl. Even if I'd have t'be careful scratching my nose."

Briefly, he falls into a reflective silence.

"What else can owls do? I know they fly quiet, and see real well, an' now I know they got goggles..."

[goodweather]

"They can hear really, really far. As far as ten miles. You know how owls have sort of a flat face? It's disc-shaped like a satellite dish, to channel the sound to their ears--which have different heights on their skull. And since sound will reach those ears at different times depending on how high up or down it is, that means owls can hear where a sound is coming from in all directions, really accurately."

Which has come in very, very handy more than once.

"I don't have that, but I can still hear as good as they do. Owls can hear the heartbeats of mice, you know. So they can still hunt them in the snow. I can hear yours right now."

[incomingchoppers]

Radar clutches his chest like he's trying to shield his heartbeat from Phil -- but the look on his face, through that whole speech, doesn't have a trace of concern in it. It's the dawning wonder of running into another soldier from Ottumwa; of when he realized he was starting to understand Korean without even thinking about it too hard anymore.

And what he says at first isn't marveling over Phil's neat bird facts, but instead: "You, too?"

A pause, and then he adds quickly, "I can't hear ten miles, or, or your heart, but I always been able to hear a whole lot."

[goodweather]

A note pulls away from the harmony, sending the others rushing to adjust.

Phil cocks his head, rather birdlike on its own. "Huh. Whaddya mean?"

[incomingchoppers]

"Well I mean just like I said," Radar tries to explain, with a few wobbly gestures for emphasis. "That's why they started calling me Radar. Like, uh. Like the choppers back home, I always hear 'em first even when they're a coupla miles away'n I can tell you where they're coming from'n how many wounded they got. Or like what everybody's talking about all the way back at the fire right now. Except I dunno if it's all talking or if it's thinkin', too, or if they haven't said it yet. That's the other thing. I hear that all the time too." Slightly pathetic: "But it's all kinda mixed up right now 'cause I drank so much."

And it's so loud.

[goodweather]

"Huh." Give him a moment to process that. "So you can hear what people think?"

'Telepath' is what comes to mind first, but that doesn't account for the choppers. Clairvoyant?

"I think I get that. It's a little different for me, like you said, but I can hear everybody back over there, too." He gestures at the greater body of the party. "And I'm pretty sure I can hear people back in town, too, but they're a little harder to pick out right now. I used to live in a place that was mostly closed in with about 60 other people, and that was really hard, especially when we all got stuck in a stone room. All the yelling and noise got so bad I fell down."

[incomingchoppers]

"Yeah, sometimes," he says, and then his eyes go huge with sympathy again. "Oh, jeez, that sounds awful. I mean even the mess tent starts hurting my ears on a bad day, at least I get a break from that'n the shelling doesn't come that close to us too much. An' at least here we got space."

He glances over his shoulder toward the bonfire. Almost immediately, he has to plant one palm on the sand so he doesn't fall over.

"Didja come up here 'cause it's quieter, too?"

[goodweather]

Phil's eye follows Radar's gaze. Wordlessly he stands up, walks, then plops down on his other side, blocking the view with his big feathery silhouette.

"Yeah. It's been a long day of socializing and I could use the break."

...

"Y'know, if you wanna go home, you can. You don't have to stick it out 'till the end."

[incomingchoppers]

Radar just barely manages to track Phil as he moves, swaying a little, blinking with bewilderment. "Why'd you get up'f you were just gonna...?"

Never mind. Maybe Phil just had to stretch his legs. Or his wings. Or... something. Anyway, Radar's gotta tell him some important stuff!

"S'okay, Mr. Rambo's got a few tents over there." He gestures vaguely, nowhere near the direction of the Baker Ranch campsite. "I'll go back soon. Maybe it won't be so loud. Anyway I gotta light a lantern for Cololonel Blake first."

[goodweather]

He hums. "That Henry? Yeah, uh... Hawk told me about him, too. Not a lot, just sort of mentioned him briefly, but he seems like he was nice." Had to've been, if Hawk liked him so much.

"D'you have one already? I can go and get one for you."