Human beings loved all their activities and having fun. It was almost hilarious to Dia whenever she saw them running about, oblivious to the fact that there was a possibility that a blazing meteor could fall from the heavens at any moment and obliterate all of Earthland. Or, one of the people milling around in one of the big, densely populated cities could be a walking magical nuclear disaster, set to go off at any moment and claim millions of lives. Of course, people would always tell her that while such things could happen, their probability was very low. She had once heard that the chances of being struck by lightning was one in five hundred thousand. "Very low odds," the man who said so had laughed. She had smiled indulgently at him, but had made no effort to correct him, whether by words or actions. If only he knew the amount of sentient malice existing in the universe, he would realize that the chances of some random bizarre event happening out of the blue was a lot higher than the statistics showed. She knew of dark mages that would waste no time proving their point to him by using him as an example, but she was not one of those mages. She hoped she was not.
Perhaps this was an excuse to prove to herself that she could still act like any normal person, barring the dark reality that her entire life, up to this point, had been everything else that was not normal. That being the case, she had decided to see what this beach party on Crescent Island was all about, before her job contractors came calling once again. The beach. An excuse for people to flaunt their shapely bodies, and others to ogle said shapely bodies. Or grope them, perhaps? Dia didn't mind a lot of attention, but she could not stand the touching, the pawing... Someone had once accused her of being hypocritical for dressing in such a "brazen" manner (yes, that was the word she used), but Dia likened the situation to a baker putting up a delicious pie in the showroom, and then being accused of hypocrisy when someone who wasn't ready to buy was fended off when they tried to eat the pie. Naturally, she knew what that counter would yield: "So, is your body for sale?" Good question. The truth was, everyone was for sale; the only differences were in the price and the bidder.
Today, a very hot day, Dia stepped out onto the sands dressed in a tiny black bikini, and a translucent sarong wrapped around her waist. She "innocently" made her way around, ignoring the many stares she got, and looked for something fun with which she could distract herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him: sandy haired, chiseled abs and a self-confident smirk. She almost rolled her eyes. She knew what he was after.
"Hey, babe..."
Dia ignored him, her eyes scanning the different booths for anything worth engaging in. She could feel the youth's eyes on her, and then he tried again.
"Hey..."
She whipped round and stepped away, just as he was about to touch her, emerald eyes flashing with a sudden animosity. "Don't. It's very rude."
To his credit, he backed away slightly, holding up his hands. He was still smiling, although it was apologetic. "Sorry. Didn't mean no offense." She allowed her eyes to roam across his body before returning to his face. Something in her expression must have encouraged him, because his smile evolved to somethin closer to a grin. Yes, his body was impressive, but such things didn't fling her head over heels. She wasn't feeling vengeful, anyway, so she could let him off the hook. But if he tried it again... "None taken. Just be careful how you go touching people. It might be the death of you, one day." His expression was incredulous. "I think that's a little exaggeration on..." he began with a laugh, but Dia just stared at him, those eyes boring into him. The laugh faltered. "Okay." She graced him with the hint of a smile, and walked away. He probably considered following her, but changed his mind, which was good for him. Dia was in a forgiving mood, but she was not feeling too chatty.
She finally got to something that looked a little fun. People were throwing horseshoes. Plastic horseshoes. She wondered whether the throwing of horseshoes had anything to do with luck. Horseshoes were a good luck charm, from what she had heard... well, the metal ones. These were plastic, and cheerfully colored. She drew closer, watched people try their luck. They could only throw five horseshoes. And if luck was involved, the horseshoes were doing very little to better the chances of the throwers.
"You want to try it?" a well tanned woman asked her, offering her a set of horseshoes. Dia shrugged and accepted them. The whole thing didn't look too difficult. She made a show of aiming, then missed the first deliberately. The second horseshoe ringed the peg accurately, and she allowed herself to miss the third. The fourth hit home, and the fifth flew wide. Dia had already noticed that despite some people having the aim of an inebriated dodo, they still got a garland after participating, so she figured that she would get one, too, whether she pegged all horseshoes or missed all.
A few moments, she wandered away, searching for another stall, her interest in throwing things having dissipated. At least, she had one of those colorful leis.
Perhaps this was an excuse to prove to herself that she could still act like any normal person, barring the dark reality that her entire life, up to this point, had been everything else that was not normal. That being the case, she had decided to see what this beach party on Crescent Island was all about, before her job contractors came calling once again. The beach. An excuse for people to flaunt their shapely bodies, and others to ogle said shapely bodies. Or grope them, perhaps? Dia didn't mind a lot of attention, but she could not stand the touching, the pawing... Someone had once accused her of being hypocritical for dressing in such a "brazen" manner (yes, that was the word she used), but Dia likened the situation to a baker putting up a delicious pie in the showroom, and then being accused of hypocrisy when someone who wasn't ready to buy was fended off when they tried to eat the pie. Naturally, she knew what that counter would yield: "So, is your body for sale?" Good question. The truth was, everyone was for sale; the only differences were in the price and the bidder.
Today, a very hot day, Dia stepped out onto the sands dressed in a tiny black bikini, and a translucent sarong wrapped around her waist. She "innocently" made her way around, ignoring the many stares she got, and looked for something fun with which she could distract herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him: sandy haired, chiseled abs and a self-confident smirk. She almost rolled her eyes. She knew what he was after.
"Hey, babe..."
Dia ignored him, her eyes scanning the different booths for anything worth engaging in. She could feel the youth's eyes on her, and then he tried again.
"Hey..."
She whipped round and stepped away, just as he was about to touch her, emerald eyes flashing with a sudden animosity. "Don't. It's very rude."
To his credit, he backed away slightly, holding up his hands. He was still smiling, although it was apologetic. "Sorry. Didn't mean no offense." She allowed her eyes to roam across his body before returning to his face. Something in her expression must have encouraged him, because his smile evolved to somethin closer to a grin. Yes, his body was impressive, but such things didn't fling her head over heels. She wasn't feeling vengeful, anyway, so she could let him off the hook. But if he tried it again... "None taken. Just be careful how you go touching people. It might be the death of you, one day." His expression was incredulous. "I think that's a little exaggeration on..." he began with a laugh, but Dia just stared at him, those eyes boring into him. The laugh faltered. "Okay." She graced him with the hint of a smile, and walked away. He probably considered following her, but changed his mind, which was good for him. Dia was in a forgiving mood, but she was not feeling too chatty.
She finally got to something that looked a little fun. People were throwing horseshoes. Plastic horseshoes. She wondered whether the throwing of horseshoes had anything to do with luck. Horseshoes were a good luck charm, from what she had heard... well, the metal ones. These were plastic, and cheerfully colored. She drew closer, watched people try their luck. They could only throw five horseshoes. And if luck was involved, the horseshoes were doing very little to better the chances of the throwers.
"You want to try it?" a well tanned woman asked her, offering her a set of horseshoes. Dia shrugged and accepted them. The whole thing didn't look too difficult. She made a show of aiming, then missed the first deliberately. The second horseshoe ringed the peg accurately, and she allowed herself to miss the third. The fourth hit home, and the fifth flew wide. Dia had already noticed that despite some people having the aim of an inebriated dodo, they still got a garland after participating, so she figured that she would get one, too, whether she pegged all horseshoes or missed all.
A few moments, she wandered away, searching for another stall, her interest in throwing things having dissipated. At least, she had one of those colorful leis.
WC: 935