[Wyver is empty and its citizens are at the beach.
Enjolras is among them, determined not feeling any nostalgia for the Mediterranean or reminising about his childhood in the South of France. Neither of those things serve him, so he ignores them. Regretfully he leaves most of his books at home, fearing sand, sun, and sea might destroy the treasures he's only just recieved from the Natha. He has one small volume, a Wyverian book of political history.
He hires an umbrella, towel, and bathing suit (mildly suprised at the skin it reveals on himself and others) and picks a spot on the beach and begins to set up. His friends are in the water, enjoying themselves and the sun, he's content to sit in the shade for now, reading and thinking.
A sudden gust of wind picks up the umbrella and blows it along down the beach- straight into a young woman. With haste he chases after it, quite apologetic.] Madame, are unhurt?
the time says March/April but I do what I want: Beach Edition
Enjolras is among them, determined not feeling any nostalgia for the Mediterranean or reminising about his childhood in the South of France. Neither of those things serve him, so he ignores them. Regretfully he leaves most of his books at home, fearing sand, sun, and sea might destroy the treasures he's only just recieved from the Natha. He has one small volume, a Wyverian book of political history.
He hires an umbrella, towel, and bathing suit (mildly suprised at the skin it reveals on himself and others) and picks a spot on the beach and begins to set up. His friends are in the water, enjoying themselves and the sun, he's content to sit in the shade for now, reading and thinking.
A sudden gust of wind picks up the umbrella and blows it along down the beach- straight into a young woman. With haste he chases after it, quite apologetic.] Madame, are unhurt?