![Newbie Guide](https://i.imgur.com/Uy7hIlu.png")
Post by Sheri on Oct 9, 2021 12:27:56 GMT -5
The sun beat down on the sandy beach, turning the delicate particles into a warm and soothing mass. The sky above was clear and beautiful; a shade of lush blue which seemed almost enough to quench thirst by itself. The cooling ocean lapped at the shore, and all around was the hubbub of people out to enjoy themselves. Thousands travelled to the beach on days like this, where the world seemed to turn the beach into a place of perfect harmony and peace. It was impossible to imagine that a space like this could be one of violence; who could possibly bring it on themselves to disrupt the collective will of so many people gathered for the simple pleasures of sand, surf, and snacks?
Sheri had rarely felt as conspicuous as she did right then and there.
After her encounter with Azuki and the teenager's family, she had taken some of their words to heart. Not necessarily the ones about trying to open up around how the war made her feel - what good would that do until she could actually put the war behind her? - But the family had been a good lesson regardless. The family had undergone similar trials to her own. They had pulled through, and they had built a life for themselves.
She had to try and remember that there were things in life other than war, pain and loss. She had to pull out of that nosedive. And the beach was supposed to be a good place to do that. Alcohol... definitely hadn't been.
Which is why she was not sat underneath an umbrella, wearing a swimsuit, and trying not to feel like she stood out like a sore thumb.
In fairness, the Tuffle did stand out compared to most of the locals. The vast majority of people here were Earthlings, and most of them were civilians. She was far shorter, far more muscular, and far more scarred than most of them. Without her fatigues, or even the oversized touristy t-shirt, to hide the majority of her scars, the legacy of the war was written in her skin for all to see.
There had been so many burns, cuts and broken bones over the decade and a half she had spent in active surface that it was a miracle her face and hands had remained untouched. The rest of her body was a criss-crossed network of injuries; a testament to the woman's stubborn refusal to die, regardless of how closely the reaper had come to claiming her.
The umbrella helped. It gave her some cover and shade. So did the bag that she kept next to her, in which she stored the vast amount of belts and pouches along with her rifle. But the fact that she was reduced to just a purple bikini and sandals to cover herself was still horrifying.
Not that a single person had commented, so far. They were all here having fun with their friends and family. That's what she should be doing, right? Having... fun?
(Wordcount: 505 / Powerlevel 6000)
Sheri had rarely felt as conspicuous as she did right then and there.
After her encounter with Azuki and the teenager's family, she had taken some of their words to heart. Not necessarily the ones about trying to open up around how the war made her feel - what good would that do until she could actually put the war behind her? - But the family had been a good lesson regardless. The family had undergone similar trials to her own. They had pulled through, and they had built a life for themselves.
She had to try and remember that there were things in life other than war, pain and loss. She had to pull out of that nosedive. And the beach was supposed to be a good place to do that. Alcohol... definitely hadn't been.
Which is why she was not sat underneath an umbrella, wearing a swimsuit, and trying not to feel like she stood out like a sore thumb.
In fairness, the Tuffle did stand out compared to most of the locals. The vast majority of people here were Earthlings, and most of them were civilians. She was far shorter, far more muscular, and far more scarred than most of them. Without her fatigues, or even the oversized touristy t-shirt, to hide the majority of her scars, the legacy of the war was written in her skin for all to see.
There had been so many burns, cuts and broken bones over the decade and a half she had spent in active surface that it was a miracle her face and hands had remained untouched. The rest of her body was a criss-crossed network of injuries; a testament to the woman's stubborn refusal to die, regardless of how closely the reaper had come to claiming her.
The umbrella helped. It gave her some cover and shade. So did the bag that she kept next to her, in which she stored the vast amount of belts and pouches along with her rifle. But the fact that she was reduced to just a purple bikini and sandals to cover herself was still horrifying.
Not that a single person had commented, so far. They were all here having fun with their friends and family. That's what she should be doing, right? Having... fun?
(Wordcount: 505 / Powerlevel 6000)
