Vaughan isn’t a very earthy creature, nor is he too very turned into nature, despite that his appearance resembles a wolf’s or his hair is a mane that a lion would be envious, despite that every other Thursday they dress him up as some sort of animal and toss him up on stage with forest or jungle sounds. He is, however, in tune with his body. The combination of the beautiful weather and his body’s urges to be outside, his muscle’s urges to be stressed in a way that running over even land doesn’t stress, and his skin’s need to be kissed by the warmth and vitamins from the sunlight.

Vaughan hadn’t ignored his body’s want. Vaughan had dug out his very old, very worn out sandals from the bottom of his clothes chest and pulled them on, along with a brown tee shirt with the faded image of a pair of tan printed eagles and a pair of pants-gone-cut off shorts. The tee shirt was old but still intact, the pants were light blue and had become so terribly full of holes that he’d finally been forced to cut them off into shorts that were a little bit shorter then the average male was comfortable wearing. There were holes at the corners of the back pockets and a hole on the upper thigh. Seen through the holes of the jean shorts is a pair of very short swim shorts. His curls were tugged into a loose ponytail that looked like a puff of loose and tight curls at the base of his neck. The ponytail was loose enough to tame most of his curls down but some escaped and were falling down over his forehead.

The sun was beating outside, weighing hot and heavy on people’s heads. The water only barely cut the initial bite of the heat. Vaughan walked the length of the beach with his feet in the water, the warm waves washing over his calves. He was smiling, although he was smiling only to himself and not to anyone around him. He found his spot only because walking all morning had given him reason to take a break. Vaughan dropped exactly where he had decided it was time to take a break. He pulled off his tee shirt and stripped off the shirt. The first thing that this act proved was his body was a sculptured piece of work, despite that he was short and slight. The second is that he is completely hairless aside from his eyebrows and his head.

Vaughan walked down the beach and did not change stride when he entered the water, as though he had no difficulty walking in the water at all. The back wash of the wave sucked at his legs as if the ocean was begging him, pulling him, to join it and so he did. Vaughan waded in until the water lapped at his hips and he jumped up and took a dive, his body cutting through the water. The sensation of the water licking down over his dry skin, wetting it, made him rise to the surface laughing. His hair was so curly that the weight of the water didn’t straighten it but merely pulled it out into loose waves.

It doesn't take a genius or a weatherman to determine the fact that it's hot. Annoying radio talkshow hosts blabber stupid phrases like 'it sure is a real scorcher today', or 'we are enjoying this radiant weather'. They also play songs that involve summer fun, and Lucifer swears he's heard U2's Beautiful Day enough to lose his sanity at the very mention of the track.

He's a very shy boy, and judging by his looks, it's safe to say he could be mistaken for a little kid that's run off from his mother. Lucifer's painfully thin and short, so he doesn't blame those who assume he's roughly six years younger than his actual age of twenty-one.

He's taking a walk along the beach, revisiting the place filled with old memories (though now it's more filled with people than much of anything) and collecting rocks. There are so many different ones, he's been busy gathering them for a while now, storing the particularly pretty ones in a small bag that hangs from his slender wrist.

Bomani made him promise, for his safety, to wear a life jacket; as such, his appearance looks infinitely more childish. He can't swim... hell, he can't even walk right. Aside from this fact, he sports a pair of ratty old jean-shorts and a pair of sunglasses that rest atop his head. His long brown hair has been tied away from his face, though his shorter bangs do manage to annoyingly slip through in the front. This kid is covered from head to toe in nasty looking scars, and the healed gashes in his calves explain his funny gait.

The wind blows past, toying with his hair, and he closes his eyes. Then, amidst all the other commotion, he hears a shout from not too far away. His eyes promptly snap open, and a little girl points furiously at a blue beach ball that has been blown away by the wind into the water. She's too far away to reach it, but... ever the good samaritan, the mage hobbles down to the water as fast as he can. Unfortunately, he only manages to sink in ankle deep before he freezes, his crippling phobia of water paralyzing all of his common sense.

His eyes dart across the water, searching for someone close to the renegade beach ball, and calls out to Vaughan, pointing to him.

"Can you reach that ball?" Even with the German accent, the question is clear enough.

Vaughan almost didn't realize that he was being spoken to at all. It was when he half turned, about to flip back into the water much after the fashion of a happy fish, that he spotted the young man pointing at him. He perked up his ears, straining to listen to the words being called to him over the rushing sound of the ocean and smiles when the accent floats over on the breeze.

People should be flying kites today.

"I can," he replied, his accent was...well..non-existent. "Would you like me to?" he asked in a softly teasing tone. But instead of waiting for the other to reply, the young man swims to where his feet can once more touch the bottom and he meets the ball half way as the ocean was carrying it away. Ah, ah, he wants to chide mother nature or perhaps King Neptune, you can't have this ball, it doesn't belong to you.

Unaware that the ball belongs to a child instead of this young man speaking to him, Vaughan carries the ball directly to him. Out of the water, standing on solid ground, he's fairly short too. Hail fellow short person. He regards him in his life vest and fanny pack full of pebbles with a slow, charming sort of crooked smile of amusement. "Here ya are," he said, holding out the rescued beach ball.

"Y-yes, please," he answers, despite the fact he knows he's being teased. He really doesn't want that poor girl's beach ball to be carried away by the ruthless waves. He frowns in corncern, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet before Vaughan retrieves the girl's inflated sphere.

Lucifer barely remembers to smile politely back, his face flushing a little in embarrassment. He may look like a kid, but it doesn't mean he likes the fact. He inches out of the water so the tide barely laps at his toes, grabbing the beach ball as if it were his most valuable possession.

"Thank you... very much. I, um.. you swim well." He struggles a little on the English grammar, tongue temporarily twisted. He glances back to the girl who owns the flyaway item, and notices that she and her mother are trotting down to the water to meet them.

"I'm sure the girl who owns this will be very happy," he adds with a little nod, looking back to the beach ball rescuer.

Vuaghan smiled because it was a strange compliment to give. You swim well? Only a swim coach or a mermaid compliments you on how well you swim. Since mermaids weren't real and he certainly wasn't a swim coach by the looks, he was an awkward young man with only the simplest grap on the english language and a bare minimum on converstaional skills that don't involve shuffling your feet and aw shucking the whole thing.

Standing beside Vaughan, the confidence just radiating off of him, Lucifer looks like a shy school boy.

"Thanks. Can't you?" It wasn't meant to be rude. Vuaghan tends to waver between young man grown up too fast and the little boy at heart, alternating between blurting things out and twisting a lock of hair around a finger and acting serious beyond his age and often a little sexually over powering. He's a Kitten predator, cute and cuddly one moment, knawing on your leg and picking his teeth with your bone the next.

He turned and flashed that grin at the child and her mother. "Well then," he replied. "You be the ball-saving hero."