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Cousins
Topic Started: Oct 2 2012, 12:11 AM (1,018 Views)
Cake
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Psychedelic!
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[[Miles Strickland Continued From: The Only Sacred Ground.]]

It wasn't every day that Miles could find a time to just sit back and relax. But today was one of those lovely days. No work, no school, no other responsibilities. It was a very lazy weekend and quite the sunny one at that. It wasn't often there would be this kind of weather in Seattle and Miles certainly wasn't going to waste it and neither was his cousin Naomi, from the looks of things. They both lived in the wealthy neighborhood, so it wasn't unlikely that she'd stop by on occasion to "visit grandma" on her free days, especially on a day like this. His home did have a large private pool house area along with a poolside bar after all.

Miles lounged comfortably by on his padded, Chaise longue sun-lounger, overlooking the pool with his Turkish Angora, Mister, seated on the back corner of the deck chair, near his shoulder like a scout. He had on his multi-colored board shorts and a pair of Ray-Bans to fully take advantage of the weather and soak in some of the sun's rays. Granted, it wasn't perfectly sunny, but it was definitely much more than he was used to, which was good enough.

From behind him, Miles could hear one of the back doors to his home slide open with floppy footsteps along the marble pathway approaching the pool area. In response, Mister suddenly jumped off the chair and from the sounds of things ran directly between the legs of his visitor and into the house.

"Hello Naomi. Lovely to see you... as always," Miles said with a somewhat sly tone.

He could smell the layers of skin product on her to protect against the sun as Naomi had the unfortunate condition of pale skinitis and burned rather easily. Miles supposed he was fortunate not to receive those particular family genetics and could gain a decent amount of color, aside from red, without burning too badly.

"Parasols are in the cabana. You know where," Miles said before turning back to his phone to check his texts.
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Violent-Medic
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((Naomi Bell continued from Simple Questions Are The Trickiest.))

Days where it was possible to relax were extremely few. There simply wasn't enough time in the day to fit everything that Naomi wanted to do. A thirty-six hour day would have been much appreciated. But sunny days were rare in Seattle and while prolonged exposure to the sun caused Naomi to greatly resemble a lobster, it was still too nice to waste.

And where better to spend this pleasant day than at Miles' house? There was little better than warm weather enjoyed in the company of relatively intelligent people who she could freely ramble around, instead of censoring her thoughts constantly.

As Naomi headed towards where her cousin was relaxing in the sun, already in her bathing suit and holding a book (reading was always a de facto activity, rain or shine) she saw a furball running towards her. Naomi had two enemies. One was a moron who scribbled on her schoolwork and had ridiculous ideas about the Great Gatsby. The other was... The Cat.

Mister pounced at her feet before quickly shooting past her into the house, before she had the chance to do more than glare at it. Just wait. One day I will turn you into a rug.

Naomi stopped to drum her fingers on the back of the deck chair Miles was lounging on. "Likewise, Miles. Although it'll be less nice to see you if you sunburn badly while wearing those glasses. You'll resemble an inverted panda."

She headed towards the cabana in order to find a parasol. As she was picking one up, she swore she saw a flash of white fur out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned it wasn't there. That puerile cat was following her around, she was sure.

She ignored it and carried the parasol back, setting it up above another deckchair not far from Miles. "I suppose everything's well? If it weren't, I assume you wouldn't be out here lazing around with that bathroom rug. Also known as Mister."

She climbed onto the other deckchair and started adjusting the parasol, making sure that the shade was right.
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