Aurelia
So never fear to feel good
when everything's wrong
when everything's wrong
In spite of it all, Aurelia drifts along the sands in an attempt at finding some kind of therapy in the ocean waves. They've inspired her before, when she'd felt this kind of darkness, though of course she had good company then - and maybe she owes it to that. With that in mind, she craves the memory of the Hale Ka'aila, back when things were less chaotic and more... innocent, in a way. There's warmth here still, she finds, with the sun beating down on her scarred skin. At least the ocean salt is a cool reprieve, as it sprays around her from both sides.
Perhaps a rare sight to behold, Aurelia is wearing something very light. A loose white blouse that billows in the breeze, though not so loosely that it provides no cover; a skirt flows out around her ankles. Maybe she's even less recognizable for this, let alone her change in appearance; maybe she wants to be unknown to onlookers. Just another face on the beach, for today at the least.
It's along the sandbar that she sees a familiar figure, not too familiar though. There's a drunken memory to this face, as she draws nearer, but she remembers him upon being able to better see the details of his face, the distinct color and style of his hair. It's... Locke?
With a speculative smirk, she calls down the lengths of sand between them, still working her way towards him, "Hey! Locke! Where the hell have you been!?" It's not harsh, like an accusation, but bubbly with amusement. "Where's my spar!?" She grins, awaiting an explanation, wondering if he even remembers their conversation from LongNight.
Perhaps a rare sight to behold, Aurelia is wearing something very light. A loose white blouse that billows in the breeze, though not so loosely that it provides no cover; a skirt flows out around her ankles. Maybe she's even less recognizable for this, let alone her change in appearance; maybe she wants to be unknown to onlookers. Just another face on the beach, for today at the least.
It's along the sandbar that she sees a familiar figure, not too familiar though. There's a drunken memory to this face, as she draws nearer, but she remembers him upon being able to better see the details of his face, the distinct color and style of his hair. It's... Locke?
With a speculative smirk, she calls down the lengths of sand between them, still working her way towards him, "Hey! Locke! Where the hell have you been!?" It's not harsh, like an accusation, but bubbly with amusement. "Where's my spar!?" She grins, awaiting an explanation, wondering if he even remembers their conversation from LongNight.
and find some beauty there
'cause all we ever are is brave
'cause all we ever are is brave
