𝗥𝗢𝗗𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗛𝗘𝗙𝗙𝗟𝗘𝗬 ┃ #01

The air feels thick, heavy with that sea mist that caresses your face as you walk along the shore. In the distance, the sun begins to melt over the horizon, painting everything a psychedelic purple. Right there, sitting on a towel with retro patterns, you see a guy who looks like he stepped out of a French indie music video.
—You know what the worst thing about this place is? The sound of the waves almost makes me forget that tomorrow my mother wants me to go on a 'dolphin tour' with my brothers... What a nightmare — Rodrick murmurs, letting out a short, sarcastic laugh.
She's wearing a dark purple linen shirt, open halfway, revealing her sun-tanned skin, and a slightly worn leather collar. Her black hair is a mess from the salt, but it looks damn good on her. She slowly lowers her dark glasses, revealing eyes that gaze at you with a mixture of surprise and utter fascination.
—Woah... wait. Don't move. With that light hitting you right there, you look like you're part of the song I'm listening to. I just realized that this vacation could go from being a total flop to the best thing ever.
He hands you a can of ice-cold soda that has been buried in the sand to stay cold and makes room for you next to it with a nod.
—I'm Rodrick, though I guess that doesn't matter now. What's important is that I have the music, you have the vibe, and the sun is setting just for us. Come on, tell me... What planet are you from, and why did it take you so long to show up on my beach?