Side Gig

Monaco Bay Weyr - Cove Beach
Sparkling black sands are gently washed over with crystal blue waters, creating a playful blend of colors that twist and meld under the alternating rays of sun and moon. The cove stretches out from the mouth of the river towards the ocean, mixing saltwater with fresh for an invigorating rush that teems with life.

The coast curves eastward, the waters growing more quiet along the broad expanse of beach before finally meeting a large cove. Here there are few waves, the ocean's movement reduced to little more than slight swells. What might have been an idyllic and peaceful area however, is interrupted by a brilliantly gleaming structure that stands on the edge of the sands.

Large steel poles soar upwards, supporting a staircase that leads to a pair of water slides. The height of the structure is remarkable, standing at a height comparable to that of a small gold dragon. Pipes pump water upward, creating small pools at the entrance of both plastic blue slides. The rush of water moves with the slides, following their twisting course downwards while easing their passenger's journey. Parts of the slides are open and others covered, creating a thrill for each voyager before unceremoniously dumping them into the still waters below. For the safety of all patrons, a large net has been drawn across the mouth of the cove to prevent any accidental drifting away.

Not far from the slides is a small stand that also seems to have been built just recently. A menu is posted on its side and displays a variety of drinks and snacks for beach goers.


Rukbat is making it's slow decline over the horizon, but there's still life in the day; as orange reflects off the clear blue water and dark sand, a number of people are out still enjoying the fresh springtime late afternoon. Lyla's in her bathing suit, her hair is dripping wet, and she's got the telltale flush of hours spent outdoors upon her cheeks and shoulders and gooseflesh prickling in the breeze. She's sitting on a large towel halfway between the bar and the water slides, with a plate of wherry nuggets all to herself. The glutton!

There is a disturbance as a young man comes storming out of the bar, a lovely blue shirt balled up in one hand as he stalks off towards the Weyr, face an angry red hue as he goes, snapping at any poor unfortunate who happens to get in his way. And then, all is quiet for a minute or two until the door opens again and Wendyn wanders out, looking rather pleased with herself - wide grin and a bit of a swagger to her step. Pausing for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the fading light, her gaze rests on Lyla, it taking only a moment after identifying the young woman before she is headed that way - perhaps eager to share whatever had just transpired. "Hey, thanks.." She offers, even as she is flopping down next to the towel and reaching for a nugget.

Ooh, drama. Lyla can't help but to peer over her shoulder at the commotion, munching her way around a smirk as the young man stalks past her. Is she one of the unfortunates he's snapping at? Oh well. It prompts a quiet giggle that she very politely turns back to the sea to spare his feelings. And suddenly, someone is reaching for the same nugget that she is, which is quite alarming. "Those are mine!" She protests, like a petulant toddler, followed by: "Oh. Ha. Was that you?" One hand offers the plate to Wendyn, the other thumbing amusedly over her shoulder.

"Consider it the payment for your evening's entertainment." Wendyn counters the protest, though she goes after a different nugget instead, even as she turns to watch and make sure the angry young man doesn't return. "Apparently he didn't think his shirt looked as good on me as I did." Pause. "Or maybe he didn't appreciate me taking it while he was drunk." Her lips purse for a second, before she laughs and just shrugs, not apparently worried by it either way. "I can't believe you missed it, though."

Lyla's giggling again, almost a cackle this time, her nose wrinkling with amusement that lights in her eyes mischeiviously as she shares her food. "Not very sporting of him," she chides the fellow in his absence, because she can. "I was trying to lay low," is her thin excuse for missing the action, "But tell me all about it. Like, was he /wearing/ the shirt when you took it?"

"He is simply the worst." The minecraft apprentice agrees with a nod, popping the nugget into her mouth before she leans back on her hands to glance out over the water, swallowing before giving an explanation. "He thought he could get me drunk and take advantage.. Instead he got drunk, and -I- took advantage.. by helping myself to his favorite shirt the moment he passed out on his floor." Clearly, the questioning by Ivelyn immediately after the 'thieving' has not made Wendyn's mind change at all about whether it was justified. "I told him he could have it back if he apologized." A pause, as she considers. "Though, if he wasn't the worst, I might have enjoyed watching him take it off."

Lyla settles the plate of nuggets down carefully between her and Wendyn so that she can bring her knees up to bend, hugging lanky arms around them for warmth. She's still soaked through from swimming, after all. She's a captive audience for the story, her ear pressing down to a shoulder as she punctuates with soft snort here and a quiet 'heh' there. "Ugh," is her addendum, "Why are the cute ones always the worst ones. Did he really apologize?"

"Either the worst, or taken." Wendyn agrees with a sigh, shaking her head as she spares Lyla a glance as she lifts a hand, wrinkles her nose at the sand on it, before she brushes it off on her leg so she can reach for another nugget. "Nah.. he is faster than he looks and snatched it and stormed out." A shrug, "He probably won't be back for a few seven days though, everyone laughed him out of the place." Turning to face Lyla, lifting the mostly sand-free hand to shield that last of Rukbat's light from her face, she tilts her head. "Why were you laying low this time?" Shocked? Nah.

"Of course," Lyla practically sneers for the lack of apology, rolling her eyes beneath a dramatic lash flutter. The worst! "Good riddance." She draws in a long, worn breath, letting go of her knees and stretching back out slowly on her towel as she reflects on her answer for a moment. She sighs. It's an exaggerated sigh. "I'm just so sick of being cooped up in the kitchen, you know? It's the same thing, over and over. And over. And… I mean, someone put salt in the pudding yesterday, and it wasn't me, but everyone /thinks/ it was me, and I just don't wanna deal with that." She flicks her hand as if to dismiss all these people who saw her putting salt in the pudding. She may have put the salt in the pudding, given her sudden very careful avoidance of eye contact. She wriggles her toes for something to look at!

An eyebrow arches as Lyla's tale unwinds - the second joining it at the mention of salt in the pudding - before she laughs softly. "I mean, salt and sugar -do- look a lot a like.." Maybe it is suppose to be some sort of free pass for how such a thing could have possibly happened. "The kitchen -is- the worst though. Its hot and everyone is always in a rush, and by the time you are done all your clothes smell like whatever is for dinner." Wendyn's steady gaze on Lyla is pulled away by movement, shaking her head as she realizes it is just toes, before glancing back at her. "You just need to find something better to do." Probably an old, and worn out topic but, you know.

"Seriously," Lyla agrees, clearly taking Wendyn's statement on the appearance of baking additives as vindication. "And like, you can't take it out once it's in, so what was I meant to do?" Her shrug is, again, exaggerated and exasperated. "Tell me about it," she near-whines, tilting her chin to the sky in a hapless show. "If water sliding was a full time job, I'd be down. Or, hey - maybe we could start a business tracking down losers in bars for people, you know?" Now there's something to bring her smile back, along with a chuckle as she reaches for one of the few remaining nuggets.

"Probably just throw the whole thing out." Wendyn makes a face, "Or hope no one says anything because they think they are the only one that thinks it tastes funny." As she mentions her business idea, Wendyn laughs softly, nudging the plate closer to Lyla. "That might not be a terrible idea. Think of all the drinks we could try, while we sit around and wait for them to show up." There are definitely worse ways to kill time.

There's a certain guilt in the way Lyla contorts her face and the slight lift of her shoulders, suggesting she may have taken the 'hope nobody says anything' route. Sorry to the pudding-eaters of yesterday! Switching topics with palpable relief, she's not quite finished chewing as she enthuses, "Right? It'd be like getting paid to do stuff we do /anyway/." Swallow. "Brilliant. We could put up posters to advertise… but maybe that'd tip off the losers. Hum." A dilemma that bears ponderance.

"I mean, maybe we could just.. listen and then when we hear rumors, we can offer our services. I mean, I am sure if you sit around and just listen, people are going to talk about trying to find someone who owes them." And definitely seems like a whole better thing than being an apprentice, with all those grumpy mentors and such. And given that anything is better than kitchen duty.. "I mean, we could always wear disguises, so no one caught on."

Lyla rubs at her chin contemplatively as Wendyn speaks, nodding along at her ideas. "Yes!" She exclaims, gesturing excitedly. "Disguises would be both fun and… gosh, what's the word I'm looking for… like, effective! I am totally gonna start eavesdropping from now on," she swears, hand-over-heart. As if she's never eavesdropped in her life before. "I wonder if you could get a plastic nose made up. That would be so cool."

A hand flies to Wendyn's face, covering up her nose and muffling her words, "What's wrong with my nose?" She asks a little -too- loudly, for a couple enjoying a sunset stroll on the beach pauses to stare at the pair, actually causing Wendyn to blush before she repeats more quietly - still muffled by her hand however - "Why would I need a plastic nose, my nose is perfectly fine." Someone took the 'you' a bit too personally. A soft sigh, "My dads would be -so mad- if I quit the craft, though." And there it is, reality setting in.

Oh dear. Lyla at least has the decency to scowl at the staring couple quickly, before moving to reassure her friend with a gentle pat on the arm. "No, not /you/ you. Your nose is lovely, I meant like… generic you. Me. I want a fake nose for a disguise. A really big one. With a wart!" She chortles at her own idea, quite proud of it, truth be told. Until - "Oh, way to ruin things with /real life/," deflates her, shoulders sagging along with her flattened tone. "Side gig, then. I can't do it by myself."

Eyes watch Lyla over the top of her fingers for a moment, considering her before she relaxes and drops her hand back to her lap, rolling her eyes and snort-laughing. "Considering what other fake things the plastic craft makes, for some reason I doubt a nose would be a problem." As Lyla proposes it as a side gig instead, Wendyn seems to consider, before giving a slow nod. "You can do the scouting during the day. Find some leads for us. Then, when I am done with whatever ridiculous task I get, we can act." That seems like a fair plan, right?

Yesssssss. Lyla's smile comes creeping back, tugging with excitement at the edges of her lips. She balls her hands into eager little fists, bringing them together in front of her chest. "See? We were made for this! This is gonna be great." Or a disaster. "You want that last nugget?" It seems like a selfless offer, but it's probably cold by now.

Things can be great and a disaster at the same time, this is fine. "You just have to make sure you find us some good leads. And, it doesn't matter if its somewhere else, I'll ask my brother to come take us along - He knows all *sorts* of people at taverns all over." Perks of being a Vintner? The last nugget is grabbed and popped in her mouth - and by Wendyn's grimace it was indeed likely cold. Making a face, Wendyn motions at the bar. "Should we go start? They've probably settled back down by now."

Lyla feigns hurt, knitting her thick brows in a faux-scowl for the briefest of moments. "As if my leads would be anything other than the highest of quality," she professes very solemnly, before being taken by another giggle. Possibly because of the cold-nugget-face. "Yes, let's!" No time like the present! A quick stretch, and she's up and shaking sand off her towel so she can wrap in about her waist so she can saunter bar-ward with her new business partner.


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