This beach is a paradise: golden sands lapped by the brightest blue water, the sky above barely broken by the errant fluffy cloud. The weather is perfect for a swim, in the eighties with a pounding sun that makes it feel hotter and cool waters to take the edge off. A jaunty little Tiki bar sits off to one side, offering strong rum drinks served properly out of coconuts and pineapples. And, on a dock overlooking the water, someone has set up a stage. It looks sturdy, sure, mostly, and the view is incredible. Shells adorn the edge of the stage and a spotlight hilights the spot where, once dusk comes, performances can commence.
Overlooking the last details stands a young man with vibrantly blue and purple hair wearing nothing but a low-slung pair of swim trunks and a brightly cheerful expression. His arms are folded over a tanned chest, his head tilted to the side, as he considers his work. When he spots you, though, a light comes into his eyes and he raises one hand in a delighted wave.
"Here for the talent show?" he asks, and no matter your answer, he bobs his head in furious kind of nod. "An hour and a half, I'd say! Join the line, show us what you've got!"
Overlooking the last details stands a young man with vibrantly blue and purple hair wearing nothing but a low-slung pair of swim trunks and a brightly cheerful expression. His arms are folded over a tanned chest, his head tilted to the side, as he considers his work. When he spots you, though, a light comes into his eyes and he raises one hand in a delighted wave.
"Here for the talent show?" he asks, and no matter your answer, he bobs his head in furious kind of nod. "An hour and a half, I'd say! Join the line, show us what you've got!"
When dusk comes, the lighting and the stage look less makeshift and more...magical. It's something about the colors of the sky behind, the lapping of the waves, the greenery that's been arranged around its edges. Cove, too, is transformed, gone from his casual swim trunks to something that (for him, at least) was a bit more formal: white linen pants and a vibrantly colored hawaiian shirt, open over a white tank, his pukka shell necklace shimmering against a tan neck.
At the head of the queue is a table stacked high with forms, manned by a placid woman with blue and white hair. RW has at least attempted to be festive for the occasion, wearing a woven necklace of flowers over her crisp-pressed tunic, but it does nothing to make her look more joyful as she passed each potential entertainer an...impressive packet of papers.
