Breakfast first, after some coffee at the house, even though her leftover loco moco is still sitting there in the fridge. They end up going to the cliffs, and it's actually pretty great: her muscles feel good, stretching after the run up the mountain, faintly complaining in a way that just makes her want to push them further, faster, harder. Out under the bright bow of sky, that clouds suddenly and buckets them with rain until her hair is soaking and Steve's shirt is sticking and everything around them is getting washed clean.
A sudden downpour that vanishes, 'island time' a myth to the weather, which changes when it pleases and usually abruptly and for the very temporary worse, which means that by the time they get back and find lunch, it's beautiful again, and that beach gets put to good use.
She does love it. The beach. The calm swell of water that's nothing like open ocean, or sky. The smell of sand and synthetic coconut, slippery sunscreen getting rubbed into her skin. The sunshine she lounges her in charging her up like a solar battery, until she feels like her skin is hot and glowing with it, and all her muscles are relaxed, grateful for the break after two days of trying to keep up with Steve.
Plenty of time to swim, matching out long smooth strokes that pump her heartrate back up to a steady run. And they could, go someplace. Do something else. But though they both somewhat halfheartedly consider finding waves or another park or leaving the house, they don't. Which is no bad thing. She wonders if it might partly be getting back up on the horse, Steve staying here. Like he needs to prove it'll be fine, even with this weekend, even with the years of tragedy and loneliness soaked into those walls.
But he stays, and he's even good company, even if sometimes his smiles seem a little dimmed and he gets a little lost in his thoughts, now and again.
Her questions have minimized, though, too. Asking the only specific, whether whoever it is is busy this weekend, rather than pointing out her concern that it's been a day, over a day, and there hasn't been a single other person here. She's not even sure he's checked up with anyone aside from Chin and Kono.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-06 03:16 am (UTC)Breakfast first, after some coffee at the house, even though her leftover loco moco is still sitting there in the fridge. They end up going to the cliffs, and it's actually pretty great: her muscles feel good, stretching after the run up the mountain, faintly complaining in a way that just makes her want to push them further, faster, harder. Out under the bright bow of sky, that clouds suddenly and buckets them with rain until her hair is soaking and Steve's shirt is sticking and everything around them is getting washed clean.
A sudden downpour that vanishes, 'island time' a myth to the weather, which changes when it pleases and usually abruptly and for the very temporary worse, which means that by the time they get back and find lunch, it's beautiful again, and that beach gets put to good use.
She does love it. The beach. The calm swell of water that's nothing like open ocean, or sky. The smell of sand and synthetic coconut, slippery sunscreen getting rubbed into her skin. The sunshine she lounges her in charging her up like a solar battery, until she feels like her skin is hot and glowing with it, and all her muscles are relaxed, grateful for the break after two days of trying to keep up with Steve.
Plenty of time to swim, matching out long smooth strokes that pump her heartrate back up to a steady run. And they could, go someplace. Do something else. But though they both somewhat halfheartedly consider finding waves or another park or leaving the house, they don't. Which is no bad thing. She wonders if it might partly be getting back up on the horse, Steve staying here. Like he needs to prove it'll be fine, even with this weekend, even with the years of tragedy and loneliness soaked into those walls.
But he stays, and he's even good company, even if sometimes his smiles seem a little dimmed and he gets a little lost in his thoughts, now and again.
Her questions have minimized, though, too. Asking the only specific, whether whoever it is is busy this weekend, rather than pointing out her concern that it's been a day, over a day, and there hasn't been a single other person here. She's not even sure he's checked up with anyone aside from Chin and Kono.