Regis has never particularly wondered what flotsam and jetsam must endure, but he thinks he has a far better idea of it now as he finds himself washed up on an unfamiliar shore. Drowning is one of the least of his worries, but he still finds himself emptying his stomach of seawater with very little dignity.
He doesn't recall how he might have ended up in the water in the first place, as the nearest body of it had been a river, not an ocean. For a moment, Regis sits there on the sand, trying to take in his strange new surroundings. It seems almost tropical, which would suggest somewhere further south or west than he had been. It certainly doesn't resemble any shoreline he's ever seen in Toussaint.
As bewildered as he is by his predicament, Regis doesn't have it in him to ignore the suffering of others. When he hears someone nearby having a rough time of it, he stumbles over. His legs are still a bit wobbly after--whatever he'd been through.
"Are you alright?"
II. Phallus Phestival
There's something about the festival that is just delightful. Maybe it's the colors and the sheer audacity of it. Regis foregoes the traditional costume at first, hoping he won't particularly offend anyone.
Given the serious influx of crusteceans, he isn't surprised to find that the majority of the food is based on that particular resource. What really amuses him, however, is the sheer number of things made into phallic shapes. It's fascinating, and Regis browses nearly every stall and booth he can find between sampling food and drink. He's careful with what he imbibes, if only because he has no idea how the food here will agree with him.
Before the end of the day, someone has talked him into the traditional costume, though he has layered it over his tunic. He's grateful for the relatively tame color of the fabric, as standing out is rarely ever his desire. At some point he pauses to adjust the decorative pin holding the loose ends of the toga in place.
"Excuse me, could you hold this a moment? I'm finding this may take three hands."
III. Fireside Adventures
The bonfire draws him and before long Regis finds himself sinking down to sit on the warm sand, a drink in hand as he rests his back against one of the driftwood benches. It occurs to him that he should claim somewhere to sleep, though, honestly, if he ends up spending a night beneath the sky, he won't be disappointed. It is shaping up to be a beautiful night.
"I don't suppose this place is prone to sudden turns of weather," he phrases it almost like a question for those gathered nearby. "Should I be making more of an effort to find somewhere to shelter for the night?"
IV. Wildcard
[OOC: For those who might be aware of these things via scent, Regis is a vampire. He is undetectable by magical means, but a good nose or an observant pair of eyes might find something off. He doesn't cast a shadow and typically carries around strong herbs to mask his scent. Find Regis anywhere on the beach or at the festival! Feel free to surprise me, PM if you have any questions!]
Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy | The Witcher
Regis has never particularly wondered what flotsam and jetsam must endure, but he thinks he has a far better idea of it now as he finds himself washed up on an unfamiliar shore. Drowning is one of the least of his worries, but he still finds himself emptying his stomach of seawater with very little dignity.
He doesn't recall how he might have ended up in the water in the first place, as the nearest body of it had been a river, not an ocean. For a moment, Regis sits there on the sand, trying to take in his strange new surroundings. It seems almost tropical, which would suggest somewhere further south or west than he had been. It certainly doesn't resemble any shoreline he's ever seen in Toussaint.
As bewildered as he is by his predicament, Regis doesn't have it in him to ignore the suffering of others. When he hears someone nearby having a rough time of it, he stumbles over. His legs are still a bit wobbly after--whatever he'd been through.
"Are you alright?"
II. Phallus Phestival
There's something about the festival that is just delightful. Maybe it's the colors and the sheer audacity of it. Regis foregoes the traditional costume at first, hoping he won't particularly offend anyone.
Given the serious influx of crusteceans, he isn't surprised to find that the majority of the food is based on that particular resource. What really amuses him, however, is the sheer number of things made into phallic shapes. It's fascinating, and Regis browses nearly every stall and booth he can find between sampling food and drink. He's careful with what he imbibes, if only because he has no idea how the food here will agree with him.
Before the end of the day, someone has talked him into the traditional costume, though he has layered it over his tunic. He's grateful for the relatively tame color of the fabric, as standing out is rarely ever his desire. At some point he pauses to adjust the decorative pin holding the loose ends of the toga in place.
"Excuse me, could you hold this a moment? I'm finding this may take three hands."
III. Fireside Adventures
The bonfire draws him and before long Regis finds himself sinking down to sit on the warm sand, a drink in hand as he rests his back against one of the driftwood benches. It occurs to him that he should claim somewhere to sleep, though, honestly, if he ends up spending a night beneath the sky, he won't be disappointed. It is shaping up to be a beautiful night.
"I don't suppose this place is prone to sudden turns of weather," he phrases it almost like a question for those gathered nearby. "Should I be making more of an effort to find somewhere to shelter for the night?"
IV. Wildcard
[OOC: For those who might be aware of these things via scent, Regis is a vampire. He is undetectable by magical means, but a good nose or an observant pair of eyes might find something off. He doesn't cast a shadow and typically carries around strong herbs to mask his scent. Find Regis anywhere on the beach or at the festival! Feel free to surprise me, PM if you have any questions!]