[h2]Wasn’t that a Party  (Part 1)-  Day One Night into Day Two Morning[/h2]
[h3]New Melbourne[/h3]

OOC: JP between [@Winters], [@MK Blitzen], [@Yule]

[h2][color=red]-Trigger warning! Alcohol and or recreational drug use-[/color][/h2]

[table]
[row][cell][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5281577][img] https://i.imgur.com/1CPW58D.png [/img][/url] [/cell]
[cell] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5281574][img] https://i.imgur.com/T64wNiT.png [/img][/url] [/cell]
[cell] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5281589][img] https://i.imgur.com/66r372Q.png [/img][/url] [/cell] [/row][/table]

[hider=Skye’s Beach Music]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhWqfZPrQ9c
[/hider]

“Come to Castaways, and cast your troubles away, oh, that sounds lekker….” Cyd said, reading the flyer out loud. “Authentic Luau, hula dancing, music, games, half-price drinks on the beach, come on, it’ll be a jol.”  It wasn’t hard to convince Isaac Castaway’s nightly party on the beach was a good idea. Even Mathias, ticked off as he was, couldn’t deny that drinking something out of half a coconut with a tiny umbrella could make any situation better, and he agreed it sounded better than the Salty Sailor which, low and behold, was where many sailors tusit, making for a little rougher of a crowd. 

Brilliant twinkling lights lit up little beachside huts where drinks were overpriced but had fruit juice and fun names like Rum and Pensa-cola. Small bonfires dotted the beach under the stars as the sun sank beneath the ocean for the night. Mathias had spent some time dobbling with the management before things got too crowded. It made the Blue Pelican Cyd occasionally sipped out of a tiki glass more affordable, even at half price, to say the least. 

The Skye’s were decked out in beachwear. It was practical and packed far better than cold-weather clothing. Mathias wore a pair of longboard shorts, black and red with two large cargo pockets on either side and his drug rug, a beat-up, off-white, oversized even for him baja hoodie. He held a thinly rolled smoke with his lips as he strummed the chords of a flower print ukulele, looking relaxed, and - Cyd noted - happy. It made her [i] slightly[/i] regret the novelty crab sunglasses she cajoled the DJ into giving her for him. Slightly. He looked sommer bosbefok wearing them.  

Isaac, [i]katjie van die baan[/i] that he was looked right at home behind a set of steel drums. Sounded right at home too. The band couldn’t help but be charmed by his enthusiasm and boisterous attitude. Decked out in board shorts covered in neon palm trees, he’d come in with a bright pink tank top and somehow managed to score not only a paisley print button-up, but a pair of larny sunglasses - something pricey Fishsticks would own - that sat atop his head as he played. His echoic memory made it seem easy. And it was Isaac - he was impossible not to like.

Cyd traded a floral print tank dress in favor of a bikini matching her hair color and a grass skirt, kupe'e leis adorning her ankles and wrists. The sand was still sunkissed warm, beneath her bare feet. She was among the first to volunteer when the beautiful dancers offered to teach some of the party-goers some Polynesian-inspired steps. Her arms rocked like waves, and her hips swayed as she sidestepped to her brother who stopped strumming just long enough to pass the dagga. Inhaling deeply, she was hit with the giggles until she took another sip of the Blue Pelican. Still elated, she handed the smoke back to her twin and fell back in step with the music. [i] Lekker jol[/i] 

Somewhere around 2 am was last call. Isaac had made five fast friends of the band, Steel my Sunshine. Part of it was his personality - but it may also have been his willingness to share his share of Mathas’ weed. Mathias had cozied up with two of the hula dancers, and, finding out there was a nearby stable at the beach tacked up and took one of them for a moonlight ride. Cyd kept busy [i]trading notes[/i] with the in-house DJ, and found out that during night swimming she screams the same if a piece of seaweed touches her leg as she would if someone yelled ‘shark.’ It was a near-perfect way to celebrate the [i]job[/i] they'd just finished.