:Broken Boards, Broken People: (arcana & arrows)

Incandescent illumination radiated atop a sea of glass glittering in the sun's daily finale. Like a shadow sliding across a canvas of orange speckled with flecks of red, he sliced through the salt. The ocean air was sweet wafting outward from the shore as it flagged through the tendrils of moist blonde hair. Turner was but the after image of humanity against the expanse of nature.  He was both entirely in existence and completely non-material. Out there among the cascading curls of the sea, he felt as far from mortal as a boy could. His voice echoed across the sun's reflection as he embraced the wings of Icarus with a shout.  

Had he cut his turn too tightly to the colorful coral of the outer reef? Had he mistaken where the sunken building of the past was still sinking slowly into the sand? No. He merely was adventuring, a single soul driving through the slipstream of the crumbling ocean. He had ventured further down the shoreline than he had thought, his thoughts far too occupied with the hiss of his fingers furling in the water's embrace. By the time he had noticed the casual cove creeping out of the land's normal curve, his board was deemed dead. The gnarled teeth of the sea snarled up against the lapping waves.

Cold compressed the experienced surfer's body in an instant, engulfing him as he bailed from his board. In the current's dance, Turner witnessed his work of wooden art get devoured by the rocks. Anger and fury were the first emotions to erupt from his lips as his head breached the air. All the hours and the toil eradicated in a single second of misplaced thought. Turner had only himself to smolder at as he road in a wave on the back of his body toward the beach. He had been the one to make the mistake of drifting after all.

By the time Turner's toes finally tucked into the dying warmth of the golden sand beach, the sun was nearly finished with its soliloquy. Several stars were just beginning to glint out from behind the mirage of daylight. That was when he saw her, the girl. Her hair was billowing in the same sweet ocean air that he had felt offshore. Big black curls dancing with one another, but that wasn't all. Her hands were holding something familiar, yet also different. A broken piece of his board.

He could have left, gone back home and made a new board. But he didn't, instead Turner Grey chose to walk up to the stranger silhouetted by the dawning lunar light. Perhaps it was the emotions still fresh from his failure, or perhaps it was something else. The truth being, the boy really didn't have any idea other than he chose to. Her features became less of mystery the closer he grew to her on the shore.

"I clearly did a shit job with that board."

Turner's fingers fluttered through the sand until he discovered his own piece of the wreckage. However, his eyes never left the stranger. His voice never wavered or even inflected his emotions. He was nothing, like always.

"To break like this because of some rocks. It's pathetic really."

His hands broke the piece held in them with a snap.

Waves, mirrors of the sky dipped in lavender light, crept across the simmering sands. As they washed backwards against the crumbling crust of the earth's edges, they called softly to Turner's ears. No matter the time of day, if the sea was shaping itself into crests and cradling the shore, he would listen to its song. Some days it would be strong like a chorus rooted in the tides. Other days it would be soft like a breeze barely twisting through the bellowing branches of a palm tree. Whatever the weather, he would listen just as he did that evening entranced by nature wrapping itself in the star spun veil of night.

Upon the pressure that pierced the plank of wood between his palms, Turner caught sight of a slight startle in the girl's stature. He had to give her credit though, despite the sudden sound, her eyes never left the sea sculpting the shore. Could she hear the stirring salt crescendoing over the cliff side too? Maybe, or maybe not. That wasn't really within Turner's realm of interest. He was merely near her solely because he wasn't ready to head home quite yet.

As a slight shift in the air broke into a breeze, small shivers spilled down Turner's spine. The blessings of the beach still clung in clumps of damp droplets to his skin, unconvinced yet to turn into white memories of the water. Instead of shaking like some child unkempt by a winter's coat, he ran a hand through his hair and sent the excess water rippling into the sand. Showing even the slightest signs of discomfort were never one of Turner's abilities.

Her voice dangled dangerously over the edge of falsity when she finally spoke back to the boy who had interrupted her silent solitude. At first her words were correct, but when she spoke of the rocks and the error Turner's blood burned into a flame of ice. The boy wasn't one for blank wrath, but cold cruelty he carried more commonly than his own eyes. Spheres of frozen fractals forged from his place in the sand to her's, his breath the wind to their chill.

"I drifted. If I had tried to surf those rocks, I would have."

A short laugh broke out next from behind the boy's lips.

"You clearly aren't a surfer too, or else you'd know why."

After that, Turner gave up the ice for a moment. Let the air thaw a bit between his blatant lack of human heart. She spoke next anyway, asking for a return to the original state of the scene he had emerged from the sea to shatter. The way she spoke with such certainty of her emotions was all the more reason why Turner didn't even move an inch. He simply held her gaze and shrugged with a smirk. He was an embassy for chaos. 

"No, there's an entire District of coastline. What's so special about here?"

Turner then kicked sand over the pieces of board he had broken.

"You like to watch those stupid surfers go down from here, is that it?"