#pi:leuda

•｡ ღ 𝒲ithin each mailbox on the island of Leuda and the island of Arcadia, there sits an A-Style Envelope - crimson red with a golden trim - with a formal invitation enclosed that reads the following:

“Dearest Neighbor,

We hope that this letter sees you healthy and well. We wish to cordially invite you and your loved ones to join us on the evening of the 23rd of December - the eve of Christmas Eve - on our island, the Isle of Fireflies, to celebrate the holidays for this winter season. Enclosed are specific details for the evening, but we sincerely hope that you are able to attend and rejoice in the festivities together with us. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please do not hesitate to reach out to us through mail or our places of residence and businesses on Leuda and Arcadia. Thank you.

Iris had been staring at her blank notebook for what felt like no small eternity, and finally shoved her pen in and got up with a huff. Clearly, today if she was going to be inspired she was going to have to go out and find it. Scowling, she rose from her seat and started striding forward. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, something... someone... some interaction, some motivation... some muse.

Docked at Deep Blue Dives was a small motorboat, and the lanky fisherman aboard it was busying himself checking the boat over, ensuring there was enough fuel, and that all necessary supplies were on hand...

Toby straightened up, swiping the back of his hand over his sweat-dampened forehead. Content with the boat’s status, he took a huff of humid sea air. The sun was high in the sky, and his straw hat did little to repel the heat. It would be a blessing to finally get in the water.

He took hold of the bottom hem of his tank top, fanning it to force air into his shirt, when movement caught his attention and he turned his head in its direction.

Summer was in full swing now, and Dylas had heard of a few events that were scheduled at the beach. He was no stranger to fanfare over swimsuit season, but he’d usually never taken an interest in anything of the nature... until recently. He’d felt himself caring a bit more about his appearance, even attempting to muss his hair into presentable condition before arriving to work or to their house. Swimsuit shopping seemed an appropriate next step.

He had been nearly all over the island of Leuda with no luck. There were loads of advertisements going on about swimwear, but they almost exclusively meant skimpy bikinis. He was beginning to give up on finding something other than the swimsuit someone had gifted him when he first awoke. He stretched an arm above his head, cracking the joints before doing the same to his neck.

A glare rested imminent on his face as he glanced around. He was obviously lost and at his wit’s end, but Dylas would never crack and ask for help -- his pride was overwhelming as it oozed through his pores. Instead, he simply set a stony face toward a shop’s windows, analyzing whether he should go in or not.

[ Open! ]

•｡ ✧ Love and hate were two of the most intense emotions a human being can feel, and for the businessman, he experienced both toward his robots and the craft itself. He was an excellent mechanist - far and few in between amongst the islanders of the archipelago - who was confident in himself and his growth within the craft of robotics over the years; yet, there was a bittersweet flavor to his pride - each of his creations a reminder of what and who he has lost. Nonetheless, he understood that his talent was an invaluable asset, and oftentimes he brushed those lingering thoughts aside and invested his focus into the matter at hand - or, rather, the robot at hand.

Along one of the beaches on Leuda, he was practicing the controls of a robot he created recently - pulling levers and pressing buttons on his gadget to test the capabilities of the machine. It may have been more astute than he believed because it somehow managed to detect a presence within their vicinity, to which it reacted by sprinting toward the stranger in question.

Entertaining it may have been to watch the scene unfold, the mechanist forced his robot to stop at the mere push of a button.

“Free coleslaw! Free coleslaw for all!” Rosalind de Sainte-Coquille called, sat at a makeshift food stand in the middle of the de Sainte-Coquille park. How, you ask, did the rich, talented, beautiful heiress of the de Sainte-Coquille fortune get here? 

Short answer: She lives alone.

Rosalind had been working on perfecting her grandmothers coleslaw recipe for years, and she felt the addition of gold-leaf - and a good helping of paprika - had pushed the humble salad to new heights. 

All she needed now was for someone to try it.