Crossed Currents pv. Lawrence M.

There was nothing quite as cathartic as soft Australian sand beneath weathered feet and with Lawrence's first international event appearance just around the corner he felt himself in dire need. The beach was always a happy place for the man who took to water as seamlessly as a fish and knowing how out of his element the following week was going to force him, he figured that such catharsis was a necessary starting point. The water of his home would cleanse him of his worries and release the necessary endorphins needed to succeed, or so he hoped at least.

The crack was the kind of sound only a wizard would possibly be able to identify. It wasn't aggressive like gunfire but it still ripped the air for a brief second tearing apart the fabric of space and replacing his own atoms with that which came before. While for years apparating had been nothing short of second nature to him, now with Denbeigh's loss it was yet another reminder of his past and the presence of the ghostly footprints that followed his every move. Haunted memories and spirits beyond his reach waiting for something he felt certain he should know and felt certain he should fear. Yet such angst only provided more necessity for comfort. Comfort that only the sea could provide.

Climbing down from his hidden cave alcove, Lawrence took in a breath of that homely sweet salted air like it was the first real sense he'd experienced in months. His body opened up to him greedy to inhale every second of it and believe it was real. This was the life he was meant to be living, not living as an imposter on an island he swore never to return. This was his place, or at least it had been for many years. Since leaving school Lawrence had shared many homes and built broad connections but the sea was a forever constant point of return; for, much like himself, it would come and go leaving behind a trace but never staying. It was something they had always shared, but now a habit he would have to break.

This part of the beach had always been a rather secluded area but as his eyes adjusted to the scorching blaze of the sun he saw another resting upon the sands. A young woman dressed in surfing gear similar to his own which laid half unzipped at his midriff revealing the surprisingly impressive, muscular physique of a man nearing his 50's. Something about the setting never failed to rob him of his breath and as his toes finally cushioned into the soft embrace of the sand he released an sigh of relief he hadn't realised he was holding. Of all the magic he had seen be made possible the world was the greatest treasure he had ever known and it never failed to captivate him.

Away from the prying eyes of the young woman and any other prying stares Lawrence pulled a miniature surfboard from his backpack and with a quick flick of his cherry wood wand and a rough Melbourne accent incanting "Engorgio" he was ready to tackle the sea. Breaching his hiding place Lawrence now carried a marbled purple 'lightbender' that while still in pristine condition due to some helpful charms had seen many waves in its long life. The way the board cut through water was practically ethereal and never failed to bring the once youthful spirit back out of the grown man. Now with his swimsuit appropriately fashioned and the ocean calling his name there was nothing left to do but answer.

Lightly jogging to the water's edge he threw a polite "G'day mate" towards the blonde admiring her paddleboard as he went. From the minute his body felt the water brush his skin it was as if he was entirely taken over. Some kind of possession that turned him from 48 to 18 in seconds and kept him chasing every second of the thrill, mounting wave after wave. Every trick, from aerials to cutbacks, even every wipeout was met with the enthusiasm of delirium until all the man's worries were gone and only the pure bliss of euphoria was left in its place. On the water there were no deadlines or problems to be solved, but himself and the water and a whole lot of gnarly fun. Here he could be everything and nothing all at once and for a man who saw too much of the future, he couldn't help but revel in the presence of mind when he lived for today.

Yet reality lay for him on the shore. Fate was no friend of Lawrence Maynard and so as he left the sea behind him, his smile began to falter and eyes began to hollow as he would fall to the ground on his knees. Distorted visions began to seep into his mind ensnaring his thoughts to their will and transporting him from the present to the past; to a vision that held no clarity no matter the amount of times it replayed in his mind these many years. Sea and serenity burned away by fire and fear. Unbeknownst to him that a fellow Seer shared those very same sands that day, a seer he would come to know as a friend.

Interacting with @Desislava Nenovsky

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Date: 04/1/25 | Time: Afternoon | CC:#5B8899

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Desi was momentarily spooked by a voice speaking to her as she laid out on her surfboard and jolted upwards. Watching the older man who had spoken to her as he ran off into the ocean, her curiosity was peaked. This area of the beach should be empty to almost anyone else. It would take more of a skilled Beach-goer to traverse over here. Darn it- she had been hoping to have the beach area just to herself so that if she had needed to do any magic she could without the fear of being caught.

Oh well. Couldn't be helped she supposed.

She could feel the sun peeling away at her skin and it was time for her to get back in the water. However her attention towards the sun was drawn away when she saw the man who had run off into the water, with his own surfing agenda was now back on the shore and collapsed over from a glazed look she knew all too well.

A seer? Here? That couldn't be possible. She thought to herself as she watched in mild shock as the man went through the motions of an involuntary vision that Seer's were burdened with when they hit. Similar to a migraine in her opinion, they were lengthy, stressful, and often extremely disorienting.

Desi flew up from her seat on her surfboard and over to the man. There wasn't much she could do while the Visions hit, but she waited for him to relax and find his center.

The tie that they both had was evident and she couldn't deny that the feelings were the worst when they hit. Sometimes, she almost wished there was a way to remove them from her head so that she never had to delve into the ugly, awkwardness that it was to feel the visions.

"Ride through it my friend, slowly but surely they'll dissapate." She spoke in her gentle tone, tinged with the amalgamation of every language she spoke in her vocal structure. She hoped it was understandable to him in his hazy trance.

She didn't really like to speak to anyone in the English language. It was difficult to keep her many accents out of the sentence structure but with it being the predominant language across the world, she had to accept other wise she would never have been able to travel and learn the things she knew about the world.

Desislava gently rested her hand in the middle of his back and let her other hand rest on his shoulder as she knelt down to his level. It was the best she could do until the man came out from the visions on his own.

Lord knows she wished that she had someone who had comforted her when they hit.
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