Kicking Stones

[Vivian Brackenstall]

The ocean air was chilly as Vivian padded along the waterfront, hair swinging past his cheeks. He hadn't prepared for the cold air and the breeze prickled at his arms through his thin cardigan, but it was still better than being cooped up at home with nothing to do. He hugged his arms in tight to his body for warmth as he headed down the road, kicking occasionally at stones as he passed a group of tourists snapping photos of the grey, cloudy harbour.

It took a while, but finally Vivian found an unoccupied bench and settled down, chewing softly at his lip as he pulled a small ragged notebook and pen out of his pocket. He had an assignment on use of rhyme to work on for school, and it always felt easier to write when he could smell salt water, like ideas were just washing up out of the ocean for him. Hunched over quietly and occasionally shivering in the cold, Vivian began to scrawl down scratchings of ideas in his notebook, occasionally biting his lip as he worked.

 

[Wynne Andoujenero]

New Zealand was so different from Brazil, and for the first few days fish out of water couldn't even begin to describe how Wynne felt. Her strong Portuguese accent, her Asian appearances, and her ability to wear shorts even in the "chillier" nights made people stare and whisper. Nashira, her more american looking sister (of course she was, she was adopted) had moved her into her apartment with her brother, but not said more than five words to her. And three of them were Mudblood, and get out. There was such a hot and cold between them that to keep her positive energy, Wynne decided she needed to leave the house for a bit.

Her feet padded against sand when she hit the beach. In her hands she carried flip flops, thongs as the New Zealanders called them. She hadn't thought the ocean would be so different. Of course she was used to the Atlantic ocean, not the pacific - but still it was beautiful in a different way. The beach wasn't crowded as it was in Rio or on the coastline of her home country, but it held a charm. After walking in the cool sand for a small amount of time. she moved toward the harbour. There she spotted someone, alone, working on something in his notebook. Something about him seemed sad - and suddenly though the area surrounding was grey, it was as if she burst into color. Approaching with no fear the dark haired girl walked up to him adn rather than sitting beside she dropped in front where she'd be visible. "Heya!" She spoke, a strong accent obvious. "What are you writing?" She inquired.

 

[Vivian Brackenstall]

((Thongs is actually Australian, we call them jandals in New Zealand ))

Vivian relaxed into his seat, a serene look drifting onto his face as he wrote, letting his mind drift with the tide as his words spilled onto the page. He had spent far too much time recently worrying about his new school, and moving, and everything else going on, and it was beyond refreshing to just sit in his favourite place and write and daydream and forget.

Vivian was oblivious to the movements of anyone or anything around him other than the rush of the ocean, until his focus was interrupted by a girl's face dropping into his field of vision. Gasping, Vivian jumped a little in his seat, dropping his pen in alarm. "I... what?" He asked nervously, voice quiet and soft for such a tall boy.

 

[Wynne Andoujenero]

I tried

Wynne covered her mouth both in shock and with a giggle. She hadn't expected to startle the boy and while she felt bad his reaction was a bit... cute? For someone of his stature, with long dark hair like medusa's tentacles. She finally uncovered her mouth and beneath her hand lay a large smile. "I was just curious about your writing." Wynne stood up and bent over, hair hanging around her face as she looked at the boys handwriting, trying to read it upside down. Wynne had no concept of personal space and instead was nearly top of her head to forehead with the boy trying to look.

 

[Vivian Brackenstall]

Vivian gawked uncertainly at the girl as she giggled, trying to figure out what she wanted from him. He could only hope she wasn't anything like the kids from his school who liked to make fun of him when he only wanted to sit and write by himself. When the girl tried to lean over his book he quickly clutched it to his chest, hiding the words. "It's just homework!" He said nervously, leaning back as far as he could, hoping she wouldn't try to grab the book from him, like kids at school did.