The only thing Dune loves more than a day off is… well, anything that’s free. But especially booze.
That morning he eagerly shouldered his way through crowds of children in search of the best (free!) shells and (free!!) sea glass. (It was not clear if he was oblivious to the age gap between himself and the average shell hunter, or if he just didn’t care.) And as evening fell he hovered, quite brashly, near the open bar until the bartender finally began to make drinks. All of it in blissful silence and solitude, broken by only the occasional longing glance towards happy families and laughing lovers.
Suffice to say Dune is deep, deep in his cups as the night thickens. He stumbles around, restless, too buzzed to pay attention to the storytellers gathered round the flames. The dexterity required to make jewelry has long since taken flight; he doesn’t look twice at the groups hunched over their creations. He just passes with a scoff to himself- “tweens”- and a soft chuckle.
He doesn’t know exactly what happens next, or how. One moment he’s slipping between the craft tables and the bonfires, the next he’s standing, bleary-eyed, before a tall, magnificent, daybreak masterpiece of a woman. He blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “Please take this from me,” he says louder than necessary, offering the pegasus the rest of his drink. His ears flick back as he hears how loud his own voice is, and he overcompensates with the next sentence, which comes out in an ominous whisper: “Itsa public service.”
@Solstice Hi I hope this works!
