Post by Simba Mozenrath Xerxes on Apr 5, 2017 19:03:47 GMT -5
A beach. With sand. Lots and lots of sand. Simba hadn't put his feet in the sand in what seemed like a lifetime. Sure there were millions of shells and rocks all over the shoreline, but the rest of the beach was perfect. The shifter had been in captivity by the Volturi for almost thirty years. This was the first time they trusted him to leave and do his mission and return. Just because he was being forced to betray perfect strangers and spy on them for evil people, it didn't mean Simba had to sit around on his ass feeling sorry for himself.
He went to school at Forks High and did his best to make friends, to act normal. As soon as he found out about the beach, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. No. What he had to do. He needed to make a sand sculpture. To feel the sand in his fingers, in between his toes. Sand was home to the Egyptian native. So, early one Saturday morning, he packed a picnic for himself with all sorts of food and drinks and packed his car with the basket and several tools he needed to make a good sand castle. He drove to the beach, listening to Arabic music and singing along. He wasn't very good at singing, but no one was around to hear him anyway. And if anyone did hear and didn't like it, then too bad.
The shifter parked at the little lot and went down the boardwalk to the sand and headed down. First, he set up his territory, a beach blanket, weighed down with rocks and his basket. Then, he got straight to work. He dug a deep hole until he hit water, then made a trench from it, to the ocean so he'd have a constant supply of it. Once that was done, the boy began working on his castle. It took him several long hours, but he hardly noticed the passage of time. It was around noon when he finally finished his sculpture and stepped back to look at it. He was covered in sand and grit, his arms were coated in it, it was on his face and all over his legs but the smile on his face was huge. He wiped his hands off on his shirt and then, used his phone to start taking pictures. The edges of a tattoo on either arm could be seen from underneath his sleeves.
(Shirt and sculpture are links)
He went to school at Forks High and did his best to make friends, to act normal. As soon as he found out about the beach, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. No. What he had to do. He needed to make a sand sculpture. To feel the sand in his fingers, in between his toes. Sand was home to the Egyptian native. So, early one Saturday morning, he packed a picnic for himself with all sorts of food and drinks and packed his car with the basket and several tools he needed to make a good sand castle. He drove to the beach, listening to Arabic music and singing along. He wasn't very good at singing, but no one was around to hear him anyway. And if anyone did hear and didn't like it, then too bad.
The shifter parked at the little lot and went down the boardwalk to the sand and headed down. First, he set up his territory, a beach blanket, weighed down with rocks and his basket. Then, he got straight to work. He dug a deep hole until he hit water, then made a trench from it, to the ocean so he'd have a constant supply of it. Once that was done, the boy began working on his castle. It took him several long hours, but he hardly noticed the passage of time. It was around noon when he finally finished his sculpture and stepped back to look at it. He was covered in sand and grit, his arms were coated in it, it was on his face and all over his legs but the smile on his face was huge. He wiped his hands off on his shirt and then, used his phone to start taking pictures. The edges of a tattoo on either arm could be seen from underneath his sleeves.
(Shirt and sculpture are links)