View source for Logs:So God created the great sea monsters and every living creature that moves, with which the waters swarm, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good.

{{ Logs
| cast = [[Dawson]], [[Leo]], [[Steve]]
| summary = "They even ''sound'' like aliens from the old comic books."
| gamedate = 2020-08-05
| gamedatename = 
| subtitle = 
| location = <NYC> Brighton Beach - Brooklyn
| categories = Dawson, Leo, Steve, Mutants, Mutates
| log = 
The beach will no doubt be packed -- later on today. It's forecast to be blazingly hot, bright, sunny, ideal for lazing on a towel or splashing in the surf. This early it's --

-- actually, it's still hot as hell out here. But with the aquarium, the rides, most of the boardwalk yet to open, what ''will'' be a heavy crowd later is currently just a scattering of the most dedicated beachgoers -- some enterprising families staking out an early claim to good territory, an intermittent trickle of joggers or bikers on the path, a few scofflaw dogs romping with their humans on the beach before it gets busy ''enough'' for the police to take notice.

And then Leo, in flip flops and black-trimmed daisy yellow swim trunks, perched on a large colorful beach ball over on the dark wet sand. He was ''probably'' meant to be throwing the ball back and yet -- he has quite forgotten to do this. Instead he is peering down at a feathery glob of brilliant blue splayed on the sand.

Steve looks like a page out of a men's swimwear catalog in blue trunks with a subtle embossed star motif, his muscular body gleaming with sweat or sunblock or some combination, his hair damply tousled from a dip in the water. He has perhaps tired of waiting for the ball, because he's ambling over to Leo and joining in his peering. "What is that?" he asks. "And is it actually blue?"

Dawson is just making his way over as well -- he doesn't look like a page out of much of anything, black board shorts with a colorful parrot printed down one leg, plain blue tee with the sleeve tucked and pinned at one side. His head tilts at the question. He looks at Steve, looks down at the creature in the sand in some confusion. "That -- looks pretty blue, right?"

"Sorry!" Leo looks up with a slight widening of his eyes, his hands dropping to rest on the sides of the ball he is currently using as a stool. "I should have -- oh!" The smile that touches is face is a bit delayed, but it makes it there eventually. "It's a blue button -- they're commonly called blue button jellyfish, but it isn't really a jelly. It's actually an entire colony of polyps and --" His expression softens, eyes crinkling slightly with the wider smile. "Yes, they're blue. They don't usually come this far north -- I think the hurricane might have pushed these guys astray." He rises, picking the ball back up but just wrapping his arms around it.

"It's alright, I don't think we were in any mad rush," Steve allows with a nonchalant shrug. "Defeats the whole point of going to the beach." He kneels down to get a closer look at the blue button. Then looks up at Dawson, breaking into a wide smile. "A lot of creatures that look blue don't actually have any blue ''pigment''," he explains, clearly delighted. "They're kind of illusionists. But not this one, I guess, or --" His eyes flick over to Leo as he straightens up. "Wait, so that's not just ''one'' thing there?"

"A colony?" Dawson crouches, inspecting the blue button closer now, too. "Like... a man o' war? Is it already -- Should we -- get it back into the water?" He tips his head up, expression lighting as Steve talks. "Ohhh. Right. Trickster blue -- well not this one I guess. These ones?" His arm curls around his knees. "You're not quite right cuz I was in a mad rush to learn about this weird blue thing." His smile quirks crooked as he looks to Leo. "You've spent -- a ''lot'' of time studying this kind of thing, do you ever -- ''stop'' having the feeling that the ocean is just a portal to a whole alien planet?"

Though quiet through Steve's explanation, Leo nods along, hugging the ball tighter and giving a small excited bounce on the balls of his feet. "Similar to a man o' war, yes! They're -- different orders, but they're all hydrozoans and they have a lot in common. These have this --" He gestures towards the flattish brown center of the thing, "float organ sort of like the body, the mouth is there and then all the blue tendrils are actually a colony of hydroids." 

Leo rolls the ball absently around his midsection, passing it from one arm to the other. "If you're finding them or -- most jellyfish on the beach they're almost certainly past saving. And -- to be honest --" His smile is quicker here. "Studying it just makes me realize even ''more'' how alien it all is." He tosses the ball lightly to Dawson. "You can't talk, though. ''You're'' into birds."

"Hydrozoans," Steve echoes, "''hydroids''. They even ''sound'' like aliens from the old comic books." He frowns. "Maybe the new ones, too, I'm not really up on those. 'Trickster Blue' would also make a great name for a villain. Or a hero." He lapses back into a smile. "I guess whether it's air or water, creatures that are built for a different element than ours will always seem strange. Though I admit I never thought through how bizarre birds really are until Dawson taught me to ''really'' look at them."

"Okay, point." Dawson grins, halfway rising out of his crouch; his arm twitches up to snag the large ball. He gets to his feet, head dipping with a smaller smile. "Birds are kind of always weirder the longer you look at them." He sets the ball down, looking out towards the water. "Trickster Blue sounds like if the pups started an indie band together."

"I'm not sure if these are villain or hero. Mostly doing their own thing. Even their sting is not so terrible." Leo flushes lightly as Dawson gets up. "Sorry. I kind of -- distracted us from. Fun. I ''did'' want to actually swim before --" He doesn't finish this thought. Just sinks his teeth down against his lip, half-turning to look at the slowly filling beach. Look at Steve. Look out at the water, too. A sudden uncertain question pulls him away from this reverie. "-- Dawson, ''can'' you swim?"

"I don't even mean birds individually, just -- the whole concept of wings and feathers and backward stick legs." Steve gestures vaguely at a seagull trotting along the damp sand. "But sea creatures really are from another world altogether, one we mostly only skim. It's plenty of fun learning about that, I assure you, but we can do some skimming of our own." His blinks at Leo's question, brows beginning to furrow in perplexity. Then his pale blue eyes snap to Dawson's empty sleeve, neatly pinned down.

"They are -- also kind of nonsense as a concept. The entire idea of birds." Dawson bats lightly at the ball -- it vanishes, reappears nearby where the rest of their bags and belongings are clustered together on the sand. Rolls just a few inches and settles. "I think we still have a ''little'' while before anyone starts hounding either of you." He's just ''starting'' to pull at the hem of his shirt but hesitates, hand lowering at Leo's question. He's slower to finish this task, expression hidden behind the fabric momentarily as he tugs it off, folds it neatly, sends it to join the rest. "Not -- as well as I used to," he hedges slowly, "but I'm not going to drown or anything."

"Why would you drown?" Leo asks, frowning in evident confusion. His eyes track to Dawson's side -- fix for a few beats too long on the truncated limb there, the knotted tessellation of scars there. "-- Oh." His gaze lowers. His cheeks have darkened further. "Sorry, I -- did not mean --" His hands fold in front of him, his thumbs rubbing restlessly against each other. "I've never really seen you dressed like -- or ''un''dressed like -- I didn't know if your, ah, your ''Church'' approved of --"

Steve, at least, does not stare or look away when Dawson strips off his shirt. He does blush, but it seems to be more in reaction to Leo's explanation than anything else. "To be honest, that hadn't occurred to me at all." His eyebrows arch slightly, his smile returning just a little uncertain. "I don't think it's going to be a swim competition, anyway. Just -- splashing around in the shallow end of an alien world."

Dawson's laugh is a little startled at this clarification, but his smile is bright. "Oh -- ''oh''. Oh, goodness, yes, I -- of course we're allowed to swim. Modesty is about humility and -- propriety in appearance and behavior. There's nothing improper about wearing swim clothes to go swimming." He claps his hand lightly against Leo's shoulder, nodding toward the water. "Come on. Let's go invade."
}}