Today is not a pretty day. The clouds are low and close together, huddling up so the only sunlight that reaches the ground is murky and gray. Occasionally a ray or two break through and warm the ground before their escape is cut short and the clouds hold tighter to each other than before.

The beach is empty of human life, save for a few die-hard runners and some guy who looks like he's taking samples of the water and plant-life for some kind of science class. There are a few seals in a rocky part of the beach, tucked away from most human involvement, though the science guy looks like he's eying some of their tide pools. Two of them look like they're having a disagreement. The larger of the two does his best to avoid his counterpart, but to no avail. So he disappears behind a rock and the other looks as disappointed as her facial muscles will allow.

Another human appears on the beach. He walks out from behind an outcropping about twenty feet away from the seals, shrugging on a dark winter coat. James' face is twisted in annoyance, and he arranges his hoodie more roughly than really seems necessary. There's a bellow from behind him, from the flecked seal who was arguing before, and he turns around. The seal gets flipped the bird and the man turns around in a huff. James kicks up some sand and it covers his boots, sticking to his jeans.

A brief ray of sunshine lights on his face, warming his brown skin before it's thrown behind a shadow of clouds. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. At the lack of sun, at his brother, at his sister's defense, at his mother's apathy, at his own thick head, and at the damn cold. When will winter be over?

The winter may not be over, but summer knows when it is wanted. Now, it happens that summer would get in trouble for coming early, but it can drop by for a chat. There's absolutely, positively, no rule against that, and if there is, she doesn't want to hear about it.

Summer is fond of the fae and their relatives. They suit her, with their connections to nature and their overall respectful attitude towards life. (Not that their aren't deviations from that norm. It's a stereotype, is what it is.)

Thus, when James opens his eyes, he will find a girl with golden-blonde hair approaching along the beach from the opposite direction, clad in a setting-inappropriate camo green tanktop and black jeans. Aside from being rather absurdly tall, one other detail will stand out about the twenty-seeming woman. Her neck on down is covered in leafy, viney tattoos with large flowers tucked in between them. Her neck, her arms, even the backs of her hands are covered in the flowery markings. Here and there, leaves shift and tendrils twine. It's a trick of the (not very light) light - isn't it?

Who the hell, in their right mind, would be walking around wearing clothing like that?

He doesn't notice her bizarre tattoos, right away. His mind's still reeling from her lack of coat.

I mean, she might be a pyro but damn. Have a little sense.

Her lack of coat, or even a light jacket, has got James' attention, and now he watches her. Now he notes the color of her hair, and the fact that the flowers along her arms are blooming. He's never had much interaction with gods, so he the only thing he knows about god-marks is that they're normally in the eyes. He completely misses what her markings actually mean. He just thinks they're some kickass tattoos done by a mage or someone who's spelled the ink.

"That's cool," he smiles at her and points to her arm, "where'd you get that done?"

She grins at him, a flash of bright teeth - is that a gold tooth in there? She holds up the arm in question, turning it so he can have the full view. A flower bud chooses this moment to blossom into a purple hibiscus blossom two inches wide on her forearm.

"Not around here, sorry," Sita says, amused with him. "Why, you want some?"

The idea amuses her. It is perhaps possible for her to transfer the tattoos to others, though the term 'infect' would be more accurate. They are not exactly simple ink. At their simplest, they are real plants held within her constructed form. They just happen to spend most of their time playing and being two-dimensional.

"Well maybe not flowers," so not manly, "but yeah. That's...wow, yeah."

He likes new things, he's absolutely fawning over her wicked cool arm. If it weren't socially unacceptable, he'd probably be running his fingers on her arm, following the tattoo to see where it went. Or, well, what he thinks is a tattoo. If he knew it was an actual plant would he be so eager? Maybe. As long as it didn't hurt...or interfere with his chances with the ladies. A moving tattoo might be a little off-putting. So maybe he'd put it where they weren't likely to see it.

That's weird, she doesn't seem to have goosebumps.

"Aren't you cold? It's like, negative fifty degrees out here."

"Is it?" Sita asked disingenuously. She really hadn't noticed.

With that statement out of the way, it was probably obvious that she was cheating. Cheating forever.

"I don't think it's that cold."

With that, it wasn't. It was still chilly, but there was a smell of rain in the air and a hint of warmth coming off the lake water. The world thawed a little, in this little corner. It should perhaps be obvious by now that she wasn't quite regular.

Well, I wouldn't say that James is the most observant fellow, either. For the first twelve years of his life, he didn't exactly get a chance at a formal education. There may be schools in the ocean, but they weren't exactly the teaching kind. His uncle did the best he could after James was able to join him on land, but James has always been a 'fly by the seat of his pants' type guy.

So when the temp went up, he looked around and unzipped his coat. He breathed in deep, relaxed, and smelled the rain.

And then he thought.. "That was weird."

"We're calling each other weird now?" Sita asked, mock-offended. "I think I'm hurt."

Sita didn't notice the temperature shift, you see, because she just doesn't notice that sort of thing.

The goddess of summer was playing with him, but was as yet simply being distracting, entertaining. She was having fun. A god's idea of fun is a bit strange, but fun was being had.

"And I'm James," he said, deciding to ignore the weather's oddities, "Nice to meet you, Hurt." He sticks out his hand, expecting her to shake it.

He's got a nice smile, one he likes to show off, especially to interesting young ladies. So he does.

She shook his hand, with a grip like a blacksmith. Sita wasn't an idle, do-nothing sort of girl. Sita was the sort of girl who climbed mountains for fun. At least, Sita would have been if Sita had been a real girl, which was of course debatable.

"And I'm Sita Gold, Jamesy."

The world would be a much nicer place if people like Sita wouldn't give other people cutesy nicknames, but where would the fun be in that? Sita was all about fun. Life was work, work, work, and sometimes a girl just had to sneak off and bother selkies on the other side of the globe.

Then she's a woman after his own heart. If nothing else, James enjoys the bounty and excitement that life has to offer. He doesn't hold down a real job, he gambles and comes out on top, most of the time. When he's not human, there's no reason to work, he's just staying alive using the tools he was born with.

There are many things, though, that he hasn't experienced. Nicknames is one of them.

"Jamesy?" He grins. His name is pretty cut and dry, she must have been trying, "Alright, alright, I can see that. I can see that. What about your name? 'S that short for somethin'?"

As for her handshake, well, he hasn't met many blacksmiths, and most of the women in his family are strong out of necessity. But he has experienced a number of women a deal less self reliant, and appreciates the difference.

"It's short for nothing." And if that wasn't a sentence he could take and run with, she didn't have any grasp on his personality at all.

She hadn't actually been trying with the nickname. Sita simply had a great deal of experience coming up with whatever she wanted when she wanted. This was one of the simpler ones.

Well she does seem to be a fast study of character, doesn't she?

"'Nothing,' eh? I think I've heard of you. Wild stories about cyclopses and shit. Met one of 'em once, I can see where you're coming from. Nasty pieces of work."

If James smoked, he'd probably be bringing one of them out now, lighting up and offering her one. But he has too much respect for his body to put that crap in it.

Lighting a cigarette underwater would also be more trouble than it was worth, more than likely. Theoretically.

"Well, don't worry, I'm pretty sure you're no cyclops." Probably.

It helped as a judge of character to be able to read thoughts and intentions. Gods - go figure.

With no more preamble than that, she settled cross-legged in the sand, looking out at the water. Standing around talking was becoming boring. Sita felt like changing it up a little.

Yeah, and, you know, the whole 'no fingers' thing really put a damper on underwater cigarettes, too.

"Well thanks, I'm glad you noticed that I have two eyes. So," he lowers himself to sit next to her, "what brings you out here?"

He doesn't sit quite so close to the shore. It felt wrong to be wet and cold at the same time, and he doesn't trust the waves to stay where they are.

"I was taking a... walk... and you seemed to be in a bad mood. Want to talk about it?"

She'd decided to be a sympathetic ear. It was the least a girl could do for a fellow, ah, being. In any case, she was curious.

Curiousity, among other things, was a somewhat natural state of being for her. The things mortals came up with tended to be new and different. Like air conditioning. She hadn't expected air conditioning.

"..Uh..." he glanced quickly over to where his family was hauled out on the shore. His eyes caught on his little sister. She wasn't yet old enough to shed her skin but she'd learned how to get under his well enough without. She seemed really busy with something, but he couldn't figure what.

"..No, not..really," James focused back on the pretty blond girl, "Just family stuff."

Why, oh, why did it have to be family stuff? Again?

"I'm a fan of family, myself."

A chill breeze chose this moment to sweep down the lakeshore. Whether or not this was commentary from Winter was debatable, but the wind made Sita laugh and glance upwards, parting the clouds to let the sun shine down on them properly.

"Most of the time."

Truth is, James could go to sleep like that. The sound of the waves gently turning his ears, the caress of the sun, the life-giver, on his face and limbs...he was halfway to laying down already.

"Right, most of the time they're great and others..they..." the source of his little sister's industry became known. She'd found his skin where he stashed it for a short while and was now hauling it out into the water, looking like she had every intention to let it go.

James was on his feet in a second.

"You little bitch!" Off he ran. The scientist guy looked up in surprise, and the young seal only let out what had to be laughter. James left without a second thought to Sita, stripping off his upper layers to retrieve the other half of his body. His sister had made it out quite a ways before letting go of the skin, and James thanked whatever gods were nearest that she didn't decide to dive with it.

It was a couple minutes later that James returned to shore, drenched, shivering, and extremely annoyed. But she was young, though, and she was a girl. He gave her the cold shoulder and went to grab his human clothing.

...And then remembered that he'd been talking to someone. Well shit.

"Sorry 'bout that," yes, he was blushing (because let's face it, that was embarrassing), "What was I saying?"