Post by Hematite on Jul 8, 2016 14:42:05 GMT
The midday sun was bright yet gentle and the breeze coming off the water was salty and cool; perfect weather for a day out. You know, if you're into that sort of thing, or are awake.
A stunted wooden monitor ship coasted dreamily along the, erm, coast and slowly approached the boardwalk and docks of Beach City, so casually you'd think it was trying to catch the gaze of the other ships with a nautical strut that would put even the hippest cats of Empire City to shame. A few human dock workers stopped their lunching to observe the ship as it meandered closer to the shore, and one of the men took a picture of it right before it beached abruptly on the sands of the beach and tipped slightly, the few things on the deck toppling and tumbling pitifully. A lady on the sand digging up shells adjusted her shades in muted awe of the sad excuse for a catastrophe.
After a few moments of awkward silence a head poked over the rim of the ship and did a quick scan of the beach before a duffel bag was hauled overboard and onto the shore with a disgruntled clatter of its contents. The culprit and owner, a woman with black hair and a red dirty jumpsuit, then hauled herself overboard and hit the sand with much the same complete lack of grace, faceplanting horribly. Dauntless, she sits up and wipes the sand from her face before picking up the bag and shouldering it, marching toward the town in a half-assed attempt to look inconspicuous, averting the gazes of passersby.
A stunted wooden monitor ship coasted dreamily along the, erm, coast and slowly approached the boardwalk and docks of Beach City, so casually you'd think it was trying to catch the gaze of the other ships with a nautical strut that would put even the hippest cats of Empire City to shame. A few human dock workers stopped their lunching to observe the ship as it meandered closer to the shore, and one of the men took a picture of it right before it beached abruptly on the sands of the beach and tipped slightly, the few things on the deck toppling and tumbling pitifully. A lady on the sand digging up shells adjusted her shades in muted awe of the sad excuse for a catastrophe.
After a few moments of awkward silence a head poked over the rim of the ship and did a quick scan of the beach before a duffel bag was hauled overboard and onto the shore with a disgruntled clatter of its contents. The culprit and owner, a woman with black hair and a red dirty jumpsuit, then hauled herself overboard and hit the sand with much the same complete lack of grace, faceplanting horribly. Dauntless, she sits up and wipes the sand from her face before picking up the bag and shouldering it, marching toward the town in a half-assed attempt to look inconspicuous, averting the gazes of passersby.