[Alia finds that small, glimmering spark immediately, snatches it up like a scrap of gold amongst the sands, turning it over in her mind and caressing it’s bright surface. Like calls to like, Alina had said once, and she believes it, believes there is something resonating beneath her breastbone that sings in delight whenever it finds a similar soul.

So she tucks back into her seat, watches the broad-shouldered shape of the man cross to the bar, make a selection, explain it to the bartender and ensure her requested umbrella is plopped into the bright liquid before his return. Alia’s mind reaches out eagerly as he does, fearless and warm, curling purring around the shape of his thoughts like a satisfied cat.]

There’s no faulting your service, at the very least. [She teases it, accepting the drink and sipping at the vivid pink, eyes immediately brightening at the unexpected warmth of spices curling over her tongue. An approving hum, and Alia reaches out her free hand to gesture at the nearby seat.]

Sit, sit. I’ll tell you my vision of the sea, of the starchild that fell to it’s waves. Sit.