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Amora exited the limo that had been used as her method of travel out of the city proper. Upon a whim, and a more than a few offers of yachts and beach houses; Amora had decided a day at the beach would be useful. While the usual suspects were possible to invite—her near army of would be followers and suitors all desired a day at the beach with the Goddess. Yet Amora was bored with them, as was her course.
What was new was the inclusion of a mortal whom had managed to catch her interest. So a tracking spell had been made and she had unceremoniously taken the girl along with her, of course she 'invited' Scarlett first. But it was clear no was not an option.
When a Goddess of Asgard invites a mortal to a day at the beach. You say yes.
Hence the two came to be seated in the back the vechile, and Amora sat reclined fabulously as always. She wore an emerald colored swim suit that might have been a one piece by definition of the crossing chinks of gold that connected her bust to the bottom, but that was it. The thin material did little to hide her ample curves and achingly carved figure. A scrap of a lace shawl was thrown over her shoulders and sunglasses covered her eyes. A cascade of gold tumbled down her back freely with tiny beads woven into even smaller, stray braids.
In hand were of course, drinks. Amora had in hand favored mortal cocktail: a martini with a chunk of ginger added. She sipped at his as the limo drove along and music played in the background. Surely, her generousity towards the mortal could only be lauded.
*
Did an Indian guru foretell all those weeks and months ago a need for patience? He might be choking on his tandoori right now upon seeing the effects of engaging a relatively peaceful child of the Wandervogel movement, forging her through asanas and contemplative meditation. Doubtful he'd ever expect Scarlett to ride about as the +1 for Rati, as he would call Amora.
In the mortal's defense, she needs no more a nudge than 'Would you' and 'beach' in the same sentence. In fact, she might already be on her way for the shore before the Enchantress has the words out of her mouth.
Just pray someone doesn't grab her by the arm. The redheaded bohemian has nothing to quite worry about on the physical spectrum, and if she doesn't exude the exquisite perfection of the blonde, so be it. She is herself, master of the asanas honed to the long, lean contours of a hunting cat. Artemis of the woods or some sun-risen child of the deeps curled up in a seat makes for an unusual companion. At her feet is a bag with a few essentials, notably the coconut oil she, as a mortal, essentially needs not to turn red. Mostly. Her skin is still impervious to a great deal.
"You may blind them if you walk out there," Scarlett murmurs, her sunglasses perched on her nose. Somehow this turn of events is taken with equilibrium. "Would that those lovely tents they use in England for privacy were more popular."
*
As for Louis King, he had come back to his office and therein was a young man dressed in curiously tight clothes holding a letter. Mrs. Murtz had complained about how he wouldn't take no for an answer, and how she watched him to make sure he didn't mess anything up, so she didn't call the cops… but still, this sets a dangerous precedent, Professor King. You can't let just any person come in and do what they like.
Yet that messenger left as soon as the letter was delivered. The delivery boy was super handsome in the California surfer way, but didn't have anything to say. It was just the letter that spoke to him, offering an invitation to meet up at a particular Long Island beach in the afternoon of this summer afternoon. It was a silly thing, foolish really, but then again most likely something else was planned… lest why would the Enchantress entrust this message to a special courier.
After he checked his watch and frowned to himself, Louis stepped back out of his office, and updated Mrs. Murtz on his lack of availability for the rest of the weekend and told her she could go home. She took him up on the offer and from there the college professor grabbed a cab.
Eventually he rolled up on the street to the cross entrance outside that beach that Amora had mentioned. Emerging from the cab he took off his jacket, letting it hang from one arm. He crossed the way, shoes crunching sand as he walked. Eventually he found a place to perch on a benchseat that gives him a place to people watch from with that casual smile settled on his lips.
*
Amora rolled her shoulders back with a pleased sigh, a smirk painting over her expression to a more smug veneer. She recrossed her legs and chuckled over the glass rim of her martini. "It is a mostly private beach area. A young man offered it to me for use this weekend. And his beach house. It looked passable." Her voice was soft and full of promise and barely restrained amusement.
"There's also a boat if we want." She added after a moment, finishing off her drink and letting it poof into nothingness. The limo slowed and turned a curve in the road, the long stretches of mansion covered either side of the street now. Gates in largely decorative fashion stood proudly at each entrance. One such that the limo turned into, was beside a rather small plot of land that had been converted into a public beach on one side.
The 'public' beach being a relative thing, considering the neighborhood.
Still, Amora called the driver to stop at the sight of one Louis King sitting on the bench. The limo crawled to a halt, and Amora rolled down the window, leaning out a green manicured hand and waving with a call of "Darling!"
*
Smugness passes over the bohemian in a wave, submerging her beneath the overwhelming pride of the Enchantress. When the inevitable tide rushes back, she still holds that incorrigible smile tinged in an edge of gentleness that marks her public persona. Whether anything lies beneath it requires far more strength than an idle inquiry, the crenellated fortress of her psyche intended to snare and beguile the unsuspecting and simply pulverize a force actively hurling itself against her. Scarlett has no reason to surmise ill intent.
"No doubt your delight will be his to share as well," she says easily enough, securing the sandal around her ankle with a tug on the leather cords. Their entangled lattice runs all the way up the smooth, muscled line of her calf to the hinge of her knee, caught through a buckled loop. "Boat? How fast is that boat, would you know?" An idle inquiry on the whole has excessive amounts of danger.
Nothing compared to the look hiding behind her sunglasses, a shapely widening of her eyes. She doesn't quite smile any wider than she already is, but the thorns of wry mirth have already joined that expressive garden. Ten seconds after that cheery yoo-hoo call from Amora, she's already shading into degrees of self-control lest she reveal something altogether too telling. Like being a vampire of the touch kind.
*
Tossing his jacket over his shoulder and standing there next to that bench seat, Louis' attention is snared by the jovial greeting and he lifts a hand in reply even as he leans to the side to rest a hip against the wooden bench. He lowers his hand and waits for the limo to roll up, "I am here, and I await being granted a reason as to why."
Having said that he pushes off and away from the seat, then waves her and the limo off, as if telling them to go get parked and to join him once they're all settled. He turns away to move towards the beach proper, walking down towards the shore with a casual step.
*
Amora either didn't notice, or care about the mortal beside her's expression enough to comment on it. Merely offering a faint smirk of her own as her gaze swung over the redhead. "The man that loaned all of this was more than pleased to do anything for me. So in a way, my delight is his." She winked and called to the driver, the man put the limo into park and exited to come around and open the door for her.
She stepped out, tugging at her sunglasses as she peered at Louis over the white scalloped rims. "Darling, can't I invite you to a day at the beach? It's hot out side." She pouted, and the driver remained waiting for Scarlett to exit or remain at her pleasure.
Amora approached Louis with a click of heeled sandals, her arms out stretched as she made her way over to him. "I thought you could use a vacation."
*
Scarlett slips out from the other side of the car, murmuring thanks to the driver enspelled to serve as charioteer for their little adventure. The bag swings at her side with a languid ease, its contents chiming their serenade of Louis and Amora in turn. She draws in her breath, stretching out her arms behind her, elbows nearly touching, wrists rolled counterclockwise in a sinuous flex. Feline indeed. "I do believe the reason is you," she murmurs, head tilted beneath a wash of her crimson hair tumbling down her shoulders and captured in a loose plait that reaches the small of her back.
Then it's do as one does at the beach, regardless of ownership. She barely lets her feet touch the warm ground, springing off in a puff of sandy crystals suspended in the air on a rooster tail kicked back. Whatever else can be said for her, the girl is a study in long-limbed motion that almost breaks into a gazelle's leaping stride.
*
The other two seem ready for the beach, they definitely have the mindset for it. They have the gear, the attitude, and the bodies to take a place amongst the beautiful people. It's almost a shame that it's a private beach they're going to.
Yet Louis, however, is not quite as settled to this course of action. He gives Amora a sardonic smirk as she dashes after him, and then he looks across the way towards Scarlett as she emerges from the car. A short exhalation is what passes for a laugh for him in that moment as he lifts a hand up in greeting towards the young woman, but then focuses fully on Amora.
"I take enough time for myself, and rather often at that. You, of all people, should know that." For some reason he refrains on using her name, perhaps not clear on what she has and has not told the young woman who seems to be coming after her. Their connections will take some bit of untangling it seems.
To be continued.