12694/Random Ocean Beach

Random Ocean Beach
Date of Scene:	30 January 2021
Location:	South Shore, Staten Island
Synopsis:	There is much admiration for the sea.
Cast of Characters:	Xiang Zhao, Poseidon

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Xiang Zhao has posed:
One of the benefits to presently being a wandering soul is, well, being able to wander at will. This is what it appears at least one person is doing on this chill night, on a presently unoccupied strip of beach on the South Shore of Staten Island. In the near distance, the sleeping buildings of the Island can be seen, but here on this beach? It is quiet. Peaceful. Just how Xiang Zhao likes it. He is standing, at present, just shy of where the surf pushes up onto the snow covered sand and rocks of the beach. His robes and his long dark hair wave on the flow of the breeze coming in off the waters, dancing almost playfully with the wind. He faces outward, looking to the water. Though there are no artificial lights here, a combination of stars, the moon, and their reflection off both water and the snow give a soft, pure sort of illumnation. Zhao's expression appears to be serene, but his eyes are just a touch wide. And he's been standing in that same pose for at least half an hour without moving so much as a muscle. It's almost as though he doesn't quite believe what he's seeing.

Poseidon has posed:
As serene as Zhao, wide and seemingly infinite, the ocean in front of the man may as well be staring at him as much as he's been doing in the last half hour. With the waves coming close to his feet, it wouldn't be hard to imagine the ocean as a breathing thing, inhaling and exhaling at a slow, calm, peaceful pace.
As the moon reflects on the ocean's surface, creating a rippling path linking the beach with some unseen place far in the distance, the night breeze gently blows the salty scent of the sea towards the polluted city, offering a bubble of new scents, of new sounds, to those standing right in front of the immense beauty that is the ocean.
     "Marvelous, isn't it?" No footsteps to announce his arrival, no sounds, no flashes of light, where there was empty space now stands a man dressed in plain clothes, blue jeans, black shirt, and no shoes. His ageless, serene face framed by shoulder-length white hair, blue eyes focused on Zhao. Poseidon, after what may have been months of absence from the world, is now standing in front of his domain, observing the robed man.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
That sense of life, and breathing, might be as much as what has Xiang Zhao so transfixed by the water. Transfixed is really the only word for it. It really doesn't hurt at all how nature's ethereal light reflects from it, bringing it even more to life. Zhao's breathing has come to match the slow, peaceful pace of the surf coming in and going out.

As that rippling path appears, Zhao's dark eyes follow it, then close as that bubble of new scents and sounds hits him. The deep inhale speaks volumes for it being the scents that get to him more than the sounds. A few breaths more, and it seems like he might almost be meditating.

This phenomenon of someone appearing without any physical indicators might be something Zhao has encountered before. There's no surprise on his face or in his body language. His expression changes not at all. "Mnn," is the only response the other gets for several more breaths. "It almost reminds me of standing atop the mountain." Only now do Zhao's dark eyes open again, his head turning to regard the owner of the voice that had spoken. "The energy of it is balanced. This is a good place to meditate." His accent coupled with his features gives some indication that he is not an American. Or, at least, not one born and raised here.

Poseidon has posed:
"it is, balanced, though I daresay standing on a mountain, whilst similar in some ways, is not the same..." Poseidon replies, studying the man for a few quiet moments. "It is, though, a very good meditation spot indeed. The city, behind us, kind of ruins it a bit, but it's still good." After a pause, in which the god of the seas studies the waves with the serenity of his blue eyes, he adds "would you like for me to leave you to your meditation? I was just passing by, doesn't happen often to see someone so, transfixed by the ocean, now aday..."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
"Not the same, no. From the top, the peaks and valleys look somewhat like this, though." Xiang Zhao's head turns to regard the city behind them for a moment. "It cannot be helped," he says. His voice has a quiet quality to it that says Zhao is likely almost always soft spoken. "The city is beautiful in its own way, but.. chaotic, like a river during spring melt." He turns back to look at the ocean, but his eyes don't linger there, turning instead to the other. It's his turn to study the blue eyed man. His own dark eyes are like tranquil pools in this moment. He does not seem to be bothered by the presence. "Meiyou," he says, his voice holding a thread of surprise, as though he wasn't expecting the offer of solitude. "I was not meditating, but getting a feel for this place. This.. ocean." The way he says 'ocean', it's like he isn't entirely familiar with the word. "I have never seen it before."

Poseidon has posed:
"oh, well, untrue. It can be helped, cities rise and fall, after all. But it wouldn't be nice, lots of humans living there who deserve their peace." Poseidon replies, almost with a hint of amusement in his voice. A couple of seconds are spent, channeling just a tiny bit of magic, perhaps perceivable by those attuned to such things, enough to discern what is Zhao's native languag so that Poseidon, with the Allspeak, can continue the conversation using the specific language and dialect Zhao is used to. "Welcome to the wonderful world of oceans and seas then, it is seventy percent of this planet, after all. Definitely worth knowing..."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
"Everyone deserves peace," says Zhao. "I would not wish to see the city fall, nor the people harmed. What I meant is more.." He pauses there, almost seeming at a loss for the words to explain himself. He takes a moment, and a breath, to calm his mind further. "I am unused to so many people all at once, and the rush those in the city seem to live in." With Zhao, there hasn't seemed to be anything rushed about him. Then the language switch occurs. This is something Zhao wasn't expecting and he's taken aback for a moment. The magic use, there's no reaction to. Either he coudln't feel it, or it's something he's used to. "Ah. Now I know what I am seeing," he says, eyes gazing to the waters again. THere's a certain thoughtfulness held within his eyes now, as though he's associating things he's read with what he's seeing. "I am glad to have the opportunity to see what an ocean is like. The paintings at home do not do it justice."

Poseidon has posed:
"Humans always do things in a rather, rushed way, especially in modern times. Time, itself, is a rare commodity, and as a finite thing for many, it is not given the value it truly deserves. Now, doing many things has replaced doing things well, which is quite sad, I think..." Poseidon closes his eyes for a moment, as if seeing, in his mind, an image straight from the past. "Paintings rarely can do justice to something like this, yes... Even if they can capture with a relative accuracy the visual feel of the ocean, they cannot at all represent the scent of it, the sound of it, the feeling of water on your skin, or the sense of infinite spreading in front of you, the life under its surface..."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao turns his head to regard the other again. "Not all humans," he says softly. "Time, I agree, is finite." Speaking in his native Chinese, Zhao's words come with a greater fluidity and certainty than when he'd been speaking in English. "Where I am from, it is the opposite. Life on the mountain moves at a slow pace. Things have to be done well, lest survival be in question." The words that follow bring just what the ocean is to life even more for Zhao. His eyes close as he feels with his other senses. The scents and the sounds, the sheer power and life of the ocean. He's silent for a short time before he opens his eyes and looks to the other again. "I am Xiang Zhao," he says. Though the way he says it, it's like the name is all one word. Like there is no Zhao without Xiang attached to it.

Poseidon has posed:
Poseidon contemplates Zhao's words quietly for a moment, then nods "you do have a point, some humans still do things well, though not nearly as many as it should be..."
At the introduction, Poseidon nods, bowing his head as a greeting and, after a moment of consideration replies "Poseidon... A pleasure to meet you, Xiang Zhao"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
"I think it simply depends upon location and lifestyle. The mountain is.. nothing like here." Xiang Zhao blinks once at the other and seems frozen. The name is one he is clearly familiar with, especially when spoken in his native language. What happens next is fairly inevitable with the revelation of That Name. Nobody would frivolously claim to be the God of the Sea! After that frozen moment, there's no hesitation to Zhao's movements. They're not hurried either, but almost ritualistic. He fully turns to face Poseidon and drops with grace to his knees. He cups his hands at chest level before him, and bows his head to them. That is held for half a breath, then his hands come apart and he bows all the way down, hands placed on the snowy sand, and forehead touching.

Poseidon has posed:
In the age of heroes, where pretty much lots of people can toss cars around, shoot lightning bolts and do all sorts of marvelous stuff, it doesn't happen that often, to Poseidon, to see people that do not live on or in the sea bowing like that in his presence. And so it is that only after a couple of seconds he calmly states "rise, Xiang Zhao, the snowy sand is cold and a headache is not necessary, if it can be avoided" for a moment, a smile appears on his lips "I will need to leave soon, I have some matters to attend to, but it was indeed a pleasure meeting you"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
In Xiang Zhao's case, it seems to be all about respect. Zhao doesn't move until the words come, and then he rises. First to his knees, and then to his feet, just as graceful as he'd been on the way down. There's nothing overtly subservient about his motions, but respectful? Oh yes indeed. He relaxes back to how he was standing before, now that respect has been given to one who deserves such. "It was not so cold as to be unbearable," he says, head turning to regard Poseidon. "It was a pleasure meeting you as well. I enjoyed the talk. Please take care."

Poseidon has posed:
"I always do, try to take care as well" Poseidon replies, bowing his head again as a farewell before offering a last smile and, just as suddenly and soundlessly as he appeared, he vanishes, leaving Zhao again surrounded by the sea breeze, the quiet sound of waves gently caressing the beach again reaching his ears, the ocean again, infinite and patient, sitting there for Zhao.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao bows his head at the departure, and then turns to the sea again. After a time, his fingers wrap around the pale jade flute at his waist. He pulls it free and raises it up. A song is then played, for the sea. For the God who'd just left.