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Who| Jason and the Beachwarmers
What| Going camping! Making friends! A mixed thing, just do whatever and have fun.
Where| On a private island owned by R.J. Brande.
When| Post Naltor and Mystery Plots, pre-next plot
Warnings/Notes| None yet

All in all, the beach itself is gorgeous. Clear waters, a perfect temperature, white sand, some nice, shady woods deeper in on the island... It all looks fantastic, like it came off of a postcard. There's not a hint of land off in the distance, but they can get a threshold gate if the need arises.

Jason honestly didn't plan much out. He's packed for different activities, like food (sadly lacking in hot dogs), sun lotion, drinks (though if you wanted something alcoholic, you'll be disappointed), a beach ball, a volleyball with a net setup, some tents, and some snorkeling gear, all pre-staged on the island. He tried to cover a bunch of activities, but he really didn't have much of an idea of how many people would be showing up or what they'd want to do, so he just prepped for the most possible.

If they day is crisp and beautiful, the night is something else entirely. Still perfectly warm, by the time the Legionnaires have worn themselves out, the stars are out in force. With no light pollution around, the night sky is full of colors and stars, with the visible portion of the Milky Way cutting a majestic arc across the sky. Night swimming is still available, the water's fine and the camp fire is visible for a long way.

[[Whoops, I'd meant to post this on Saturday, but time got away from me. I thought about setting up activities and such, but decided that it'd be best just to let people come up with whatever. If it involves gear of some kind, feel free to handwave that Jason took care of it. There's a few different activity headers put up, so feel free to tag around or post a separate starter if you have any further ideas or want to do something else!

If you didn't tag here, don't worry about it. We can handwave any of that in favor of the main action here.

and now posted in the correct community. Whoops again.]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I still can't believe there are no hotdogs in the future."

Grif is complaining to anyone who will listen. He's volunteered to help man the grill, and is tending some very convincing hotdog impostors at the moment.

Everything they have to grill is happily synthetic or plant-based. It was actually Grif who brought the things-that-are-totally-not-hotdogs himself.

It's starting to seem like he did it just so he could find an excuse to complain about them.

"I mean they look right and they taste right and they feel right, because hotdogs were never real meat anyway," he says. "But it's not the same."

"Oh. My. God. Shut up. I know lions that whine less about a lack of proper meat and they're lions. Actual carnivores. You humans are omnivores. I looked it up."

He'd been dragged along to this stupid bonding thing? Fine, whatever. No omnicom reception? Fine, whatever. But he wasn't going to sit here and listen to Grif whine the whole time.

"Douse it in relish and it tastes the same anyway."

"Lions sound like my kind of people," Grif speculates as he flips a bean burger. "I bet cats can appreciate a good nap, too."

Nick rolled his eyes.

Then he paused.

"That's a vicious stereotype -- no, I'm lying, yes. Most cats I know enjoy a good nap. Depends, though, some species are more high energy than others."

Edited 2016-05-14 00:46 (UTC)

Grif shakes his head. "You know, it's still really hard for me to imagine all of this. Look at my world. We've got one species doing everything, and we spent most of our time tearing each other apart until the aliens showed up. It's kind of hard to picture. Like... do elephants and mice get along? Do cats and dogs live together? Do giraffes have special cars?"

It's like something out of a picture book for babies. Grif can't wrap his brain around it.

Nick took a deep breath and let it out.

"Hot dog." He held out a paw. "A hot dog for answers. And I get to ask questions about your weird one-species human Earth, too."

Edited 2016-05-14 01:05 (UTC)

Grif considers the bargain carefully, more carefully than most people because it's Grif bargaining with food, then nods. "Alright. But they're not hotdogs. I don't know what I'm calling them yet, but I know I'm not going to let them steal away one of my sweet, sweet memories of home."

He puts one into a bun for Nick. "Condiments are in the cooler there. So tell me, giraffes: special cars? Or do they stick their heads out the moon roof?"

Nick did not say thank you. Aside from not being the type to say thank you, it was all part of a deal. One thing for another. You didn't thank people for their half of the deal. He got up to get some mustard and relish out of the cooler and piled it on.

"Giraffes do have special cars. Mice and elephants get along fine, although mice do get a little nervous when they're around each other, but that's the same with most large herd animals. They're just afraid to get tripped on -- accidental stamping deaths do happen, even though they're rare because the infrastructure is set up to help prevent it. Cats and dogs live together occasionally. They're both predators and while interspecies romances are a little uncommon, they still happen. Usually they happen most often between predators and other predators or prey and other prey."

Mmm, hot dog. It was a perfectly good and delicious soy dog, thank you very much.

"See," says Grif, "it's weird because we don't have talking animals, but we have all this stuff we've made up about what animals would be like if they talked anyway."

"Like... one day some guy decided elephants would be scared of mice, and I guess everybody agreed and then it's in all the cartoons. And cats and dogs are enemies."

That reminds him of something.

"Do you guys say "fighting like cats and dogs" or is that not a thing?"

None of these details are important, but they're somewhat interesting. "Somewhat interesting" conversations have sustained Grif through years of the soul-sucking boredom between stupid firefights with Blue Team. Talking at length about things that don't matter much is comfortable.

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thethinzooline - 2016-05-22 02:57 (UTC) - Expand

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thethinzooline - 2016-06-05 07:08 (UTC) - Expand

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whyarewehere - 2016-06-06 02:46 (UTC) - Expand

Judy glanced up from her grilled vegetables, and gave Grif an unimpressed look.

"...are you actually looking for things to complain about now?"

Edited 2016-05-14 21:37 (UTC)

"Yes. It's kind of what I do around here," Grif replied with complete seriousness. "I complain, other people complain about me complaining... it's the gift that keeps on giving."

"Wait a minute." Gwen, on the other hand, knows exactly where her priorities lie. "Can you go back to the part about there being no hotdogs."

"It's a sham," says Grif, nudging one of the offending not-hotdogs with the spatula. "I don't know if it's tofu or what, but this is not meat. It's like the enterprising spirit of humanity went out into space, stopped eating animals, and died. What a legacy to lose."

"Seriously?" She observed the hot dogs, with way more intent that should've been necessary for... observing hot dogs. But there she was, looking at them as though she'd been terribly offended by their very existence.

"Ugh, that's gotta be a crime or something."

"I know!" Grif is at least pleased that someone understands the gravity of the situation.

"And people tell me that my time is uncivilized and barbaric."

Hang a second. What.

"Why would they go ahead and say that?"

"I don't know, I guess PETA took over the world in the future. Meat is cruel."

Grif says it like it's a ridiculous notion.

"This future just because a lot less awesome to me." But surely someone as smart as Gwen doesn't believe that.

... Right?

Thad looks rather baffled by that logic.

He hadn't really touched much of the food here, the marshmallows were too sweet and he didn't really have a taste for most meat, even if it wasn't the real deal. He'd never really had much of a fondness for hotdogs, in particular, so maybe he was just missing something here?

"I don't understand. If all of those traits feel the 'right', how is it not the same? Is your only problem with it that you have to actually know that it's not meat?"

"I guess?" Grif replies. "It just kind of ruins the experience. They might even be healthy for me." He shudders at the very thought.

"Did you want one?"

"I don't think you have much to worry about in terms of how healthy they are for you."

He wrinkles his nose at the offer. "Not particularly. Thank you."

"Your loss," Grif replies cheerfully. "More for me. Not that they're great. Just on principle."

"I don't see it as much of a loss." There's a pause where the kid looks at Grif scrutinisingly. "What's the appeal of them in the first place? Why eat them purely out of principle?"

He sure is full of inane questions.

"I like to eat," Grif replies, shrugging. "It's one of the things I do around here. That and I was stuck eating crappy army rations for years. If that happened to you, you'd like real food too."

Another dirty look at the faux-meat.

"Even if it's fake real food."

Oddly, Thad could relate to that somewhat. He wasn't sure what army rations were like, but if they were anything like the kinds of rations, vitamins, and protein supplements he lived with, he supposed he could see how someone raised on 'real food' might yearn for something with more flavor after years of going without. Even if it was cheap hotdogs. Though personally, he'd still prefer the rations.

But food was no longer the most interesting part of this conversation.

"You were in the army?"