Ava Kelly | Turn Down For What?

A maiden of the sea arose from the water: sleek, beautiful, and soaked, a figure akin to a selkie. But this was no mythological woman, no seal shedding one skin for a beautiful human form. It was Ava, in a full wetsuit, her hair sleek and drenched from the ocean, a beautiful woman who needed no mythology for her visage to turn heads.

The ocean was cold, colder by her morning shower by at least 10 degrees, but the wetsuit kept a lot of her more protected from it- just not her hands, feet, and entire head. The cold was part of the rush, and worth every second for the swells coming in today. She wasn't the only one who agreed with the sentiment, given that the beach had other surfers out taking advantage of the swells. They'd been laying low for weeks, but today the northwest swells created open faces that could be ripped.

She'd been in the water for over an hour, maybe even two by now, and the cold had become a familiar comfort. She would still be out catching the waves, but she'd become recently aware her water weight was below ideal levels, so she was working on becoming more self-aware of her water intake. This break was to rehydrate. The ocean's call was far more enticing, but balancing her health would keep her enjoying that call for far more than today.

The wet sand gave way to her, leaving footprints that were quickly filled and licked away by each wave that already bowed and came to caress the shore with lazy affection. Such love could only be known by the unending and unashamed touch that's continued for billions of years. She'd witnessed it countless times, and it was always the same beautiful relationship, from Australia to California, to Argentina and Mexico; it was a constant, no matter which country she'd been in to see it.

Nearly all other beach-goers today were other surfers, leaving the sand empty aside from the items dotting "claimed" spots, backpacks and bags creating a vague tally. Ava half-bent to drop her surfboard into the sand beside one of those bags, hers, and unzipped the third largest pouch, pulling out a metal bottle covered with stickers.

Dry sand stuck to her damp feet, between her toes and up to her ankles, stuck around her ankle cuff. Wet hair stuck to her neck and cheeks, creating dark vein-like lines across her skin. Ava looked like a disheveled, free, beautiful woman, and it's exactly how she felt. Life this way was the only way she wanted it: free and lively, with her mind (and schedule) as open as the ocean. It wasn't yet noon and she had completed her morning exercise, shower, breakfast (simple but sweet), and made it to the beach at 9 AM. She was far from the first, seeing that there's always someone there when the beach opens at 5, but the anticipated crowd wasn't there. This was the first day with waves that were worth Ava's effort to paddle out, so she had genuinely expected more presence from other surfers looking for the same welcoming churn and willing to face the cold water to get to it.

The waves would be good for another few hours; afternoon winds would drop the quality, and Ava had plans for the evening anyway. A food stop, or maybe delivery, followed by a few hours of editing audio, maybe even re-recording. But that was all for later; now, she wants back in the water, back on the next roll she could catch.

The beach was packed with people; not shoulder to shoulder, but there wasn't much in the way of large empty sand either. It was July, the sky was clear, and the sun was warm to the highest point this month; the water was a welcome embrace to many of the attendees. Many were visitors, vacationers, and often they were easier to spot than they might have realized. The people taking tons of pictures, from families huddled in for a vacation picture to candid shots of children or other loved ones, to those who were layering sunscreen so fast it seemed impossible the last layer could've washed off yet- or those that weren't putting on any at all...

People who lived on the beach were a lot different. The pictures were fewer, and more relaxed. The sunscreen was smoothed out to slow applications; sun-kissed skin was the term for a reason. Not burnt, not slathered in preventatives, but kissed.

The water itself was less attended than the beach. Though the beach looked busy, the water seemed to act more as a view than something approachable. Like a postcard or photo. Maybe for first-time vacationers it still did look like pictures that brought them to book the trip; a bright clear sky, warm sand, layers of sea foam on muted teal water, surrounded by family and strangers that all looked happy to be here.

Ava had lived here for years now, her home was only a few minutes drive from the beach, but that didn't mean she didn't still like to come here still, even with the crowds that came in the summers. There's a difference between sitting poolside in her backyard and resting in the warm sand, and neither were a bad thing. Poolside offered quiet relaxation and privacy, but the beach offered the energy and salty air that a lot of people came to crave the longer they lived on the beach.

A lifeguard blew a short blast from Tower 3, giving a warning to a crowd that were getting too loose and rowdy on the sand, two males just above their teen years locked in a wrestling match that looked too fake to be a fight. After they broke up and held their arms up in a shrug and fake surrender sort of way, the tone settled back down. There may not be alcohol on the beach (or at least legally allowed), but some people didn't need it to find a rowdy side, especially when the beach made everything feel so alive and free.

Other than the rare attempted heckler, Ava wasn't bothered. She was reclined on her towel, a rolled one tucked beneath her head, the shade of her umbrella casting over her face, leaving her body to the sun. Rimless sunglasses provided extra protection for her eyes, though they were closed half the time. She moved on occasion into the shade more, but liked the warmth of the light. But that relaxed beauty seemed to bother at least a few people, who felt they had to get close enough to toss in comments that never lasted long; she was beyond used to it, and they never got very far. They always gave up quickly, too.

The teal of her bikini contrasted with her tanned skin better than the water to the sand. An inked starfish hugged her hip, peeking out above and below the strap of her bottoms, molded to her curves in ways that could make someone jealous. The sucker imprints wrapped around her ankle were harder to notice; smaller, but no less gripping. Small pearls rested on her stomach, connected to the steel bar through her skin just above the navel.

What broke her calm first was the soft buzzing sensation of the water on her wrist, a signal for hydration and a timer for re-applying sunscreen. Her metal water bottle was perched in her back in the shade, the sunscreen just as shallowly hidden. She adjusted to join them beneath the umbrella, within reach of those items, to utilize both.

Brookhurst was not suitable for rollerblading along, the four-lane road and connecting streets too wide and busy for the high-paced aggressive skating. It was far from the most unsafe road in the area, but for this activity, it just didn't suit. And Ava was far from in a rush to take the direct line to the beach.

It was warm and sunny, but not so bad that traffic was rampant to get to the beach or to their homes. Suburban streets were safer, more controlled. She liked the freedom of skating, but that didn't mean she liked the idea of being sidelined by a vehicle that decided to overlook or ignore a light signal and leave her sprawled out on the ground, bruised and battered or even dead.

The laws for transport, bikes and bladers and just walkers, was to stop at the intersections. That was easy enough, even if it stopped her momentum and the nice wind that blew beneath her hair. The only other times she slowed was around other pedestrians; those walking to warn them of her approach from behind so her path doesn't get cut off by an unsuspecting person, and those walking their dogs on a leash; animals had a tendency to get a little too excited when she went rolling past, and she had even less desire to be bitten or tripped by an animal that saw her as a challenge.

For neighborhoods that were mostly calm and quiet, no cars passing through the streets in streams, Ava would take the occasional slip through the street itself, hopping off the sidewalk to make things a little more smooth, where there weren't heat-breaks in the pavement. Following the curves closer to the sidewalks for safety, but going along straight stretches directly between the sides and cars parked along the sidewalks, that was her style.

The trip was all for the fun of it. The only plans she had at the end of it was to grab an ice cream down near the beach, just a short stretch from the beach itself, where it was still public roads and didn't fall into beach bounds and incur those restrictions. The place she had in mind was a stall of sorts, closer to a food truck than a store, so she could roll up and not be entering a business, which was of course prohibited. There were always ways to enjoy the simple things, and this wasn't her first time going about it this way.

Her muscles didn't even begin to burn for the whole half-trip to the shop. The only sweat she'd developed was around the liner and cuff of her skates, and beneath the straps of her padding. Shorter trips along less busy areas didn't warrant the padding, protecting her knees and elbows or a helmet, but for this kind of distance and the amount of road crossings, she'd worn them. Fingerless gloves accompanied the protection padding, just to cushion any blow to her palms if she did have a fall.

A few children on the smaller side were lined up with their parents when she made her slow approach, pacing her speed according to the number of people around and the safety of everyone. A little boy and a little girl were at her more than they were the selection menu of ice cream that they were going to be treated to. The wonder of such small children was palpable, and unrestrained. The little girl was holding the hand of her father, who still seemed to be deciding through the list presented, and the little boy was holding the hand of his mother, who noticed the tug of his hand and turned to see Ava, the subject of the children's attention. She offered a smile, and an apology for their staring.

"Nothing wrong with some curiosity," was the response Ava gave, followed by a wiggle of her fingers in a wave at the children. The boy half-bounced and the girl smiled. "Healthy, really, right? First time in California, or just Huntington Beach?"

The surprise in the woman's face made her grin, but not with malice. She was clearly shocked Ava knew. "It seems difficult to believe they'd still be this wide-eyed to see a rollerblader if they'd been around the area awhile," she explained. With the amount of people around this part of Huntington that went on skate trips, they would be used to it by now; they must be from out of town.

Ava tugged around her sling backpack to rest on her abdomen, unzipping the pouch. She rolled minutely forward when the family stepped up to order, waiting until the orders were made to reach out above the two children and place cash on the counter. "Add a double-stack rocky road cone, I'll pay for the five. Keep the change." When she looked at the mom again, she allowed just a slight tilt of her head, seeing both parents slightly hesitant and unsure what to say. "Don't worry about it. Welcome to Huntington Beach."

The efficient crew in the shop had the two children's ice cream bowls and her cone done within a minute. She rolled away with a small finality wave, drifting down the sidewalk like she'd never been there at all; the only evidence being the slightly stunned family and the ice cream in her hand. Ava's good deed of the day, as she felt it. Give the parents some joy, not just the kids.

Packed parties were a favorite for Ava; the more public and open the party was, the more energy it gave her. That kind of energy was like blood for a vampire. The way she could bring even the most reserved or hesitant or even unwitting bodies start to move to her rhythm, making an entire crowd move to her beat in a very literal sense, that was why this was her domain. People would forget who they were, or who they thought they were, when they dissolved to her control.

A venue party like this one had a set time, a scheduled wind-down, so Ava knew exactly how long she was going to be playing, and what that meant for her pace. House parties were always a pleasure for Ava when they were open ones- then kind without a list, the kind that could be crashed. She's seen parties crashed by neighbors, someone's "rival", police- even a gang of people that crashed down a fence. One of her "greatest achievements" as a DJ was at a house party, when cops busted it up, but even then couldn't help but bounce to the beat she was playing before they could even approach her.

No one had ever attacked the DJ; she'd never had to fear that, even when the fence-crash party came along. She's never had someone come after her, no matter how many drunks or crashers have shown up; the music spins, and no one denies it. Her only job was to keep the music going and keep bodies moving until the party wound out. And she had never failed at that. Until the cops or the host said to shut it down, things kept turning.

This party might not have that kind of crash potential, but it was already shaping to be one of the most satisfying parties she's provided her music to. It wasn't just the place, though it was large and packed with the subtle things that made her job better- the hidden speakers, the lights, the decorations that fed the party-goers and in turn fed her. The way that everyone moved, realizing it or not, told her exactly where to place the next drop, how to turn the next mix. Those were her best moments, knowing the crowd was pleased before they knew it themselves.

Ava was no outsider to the party, even if she was in the booth. Teal and yellow fabric covered the necessities, and black lines carved through and accentuated every inch it covered. A white cut-through top settled over her, leaving windows to her skin and top, but providing protection to any mishaps while she adjusted tracks. A cocked sheer shawl was tied around her hips, coverage no one necessarily saw. The hair at the front was tied back in a loose bun, the rest left loose, keeping her vision clear and her appearance as free as she liked.

Sub-bass rippled through the crowd, guiding bodies through grinds they couldn't help; they might not hear that, but they can feel it. The water would only amplify that for every person in it, no matter if they stood, sat, submerged or floated. Scattered lights refracted light through the air, water, and the eyes of attendees. Those lights clung to flesh, caressed smoother than a lover. Some hips moved smooth, through rolls and edgings, and others dropped.

A woman clad in just-enough expelled herself from the water with almost fluid grace, lifting herself onto one of the islands. One female and one male attendee reached out to stabilize her, but she showed no sign of care; once she was steady, she was the show. Hot rod red fingertips ran across shaved platinum hair. Her dark skin received compliments from her dark purple bikini as it held what it could, even as her hips started to roll. The deep black outline of a Betty Boop tattoo on her thigh danced along with her, rolling with the movements of her muscle.

The show prompted a man in neon-green to break from his sentinel positioning; hired for safety, acting on that job. But it was too late to cut the show off where it was; a man that almost matched the self-proclaimed performer joined her, but on the next island over. Dark skin, purple swimshorts, with shaved hair as red as the woman's nails. A patch above his forehead was shaved lower in the shape of the Playboy Bunny logo. He was just as loose, and just as alive.

Inhibitions dropped and dissolved to the influence of music, energy, alcohol, and the freedom to enjoy it.

The pulse of the night was in Ava's control. And it was amping up.

The party was in a private neighborhood, the gated kind, one that required the host to meet her at the gate to let her in personally or provide a temporary code for the gate. The former was chosen to let her in, so they would be prepared at the time of her arrival, and the code was offered to her then so she could get back out at the end. The host seemed to think it was a secret society instead of a typical wealthy seclusion. Though, as always, a good friend of hers was informed where she'd be for the night. It was a practice Ava used for her own well-being, so someone could come get her if the situation demanded, the cops could be sent to, especially important when she was working private parties.

It was just over 40 minutes from her place; far from her longest drive to turn tracks, but maybe a top 10 for the most fancy. Or she was made to believe it was. Either way, she'd already been paid the first half of the fee, which came to a handsome amount- almost the full amount she'd typically charge for a job with these parameters. She arrived before any guests, shown where to set up and where the important things were; a private bathroom upstairs she could have access to for quick use to make sure no one else would be inside for her breaks, a set of provisions set up for her, even access to a small steamer for a damp towel if she wanted one- that was a new one for her.

The party was in the back of the house, nothing new, but she was set up on the second floor balcony, playing over the patio, pool, and yard that sprawled right into the ocean; or it did from a certain view, but the cliffside made it a little more tricky than it seemed. Her view for the night was excellent, though a lot of the time would be spent looking down at her setup and at the crowd to keep the right vibe going, checking quality based on attendee response.

She'd been assured that her music and style was exactly the type of feeling desired for this event; they'd seen her work on social media, both on her own and from others. Some posts from friends of hers, people she's entertained for, and others that have been present at those events: they'd all been considered in the decision to hire her. Ava didn't have a record for letting down the host of those events.

The yard was set up with pre-positioned speakers, some set up along the patio and others hidden in the yard through various means. With access granted past their in-place security walls, Ava hooked up to the already in-place system. Whoever this was, they seemed like a tech person; the speakers were just a minor part of it. Everything in the home had an automated function; the front door was a biometric unlock, doors slid open and none of them swung, floor lights activated ahead of their position when first entering the house, and that was all readily noticeable features.

By the time guests arrived, Ava was more than set, and had some basic vibrations going, an ambient current that welcomed guests before the set began. She might not know the host or what they do, nor what crowd the guests belonged to, but her intent was to entertain. It was why she was hired, and she thrived in the lively kinds of environments.

(The decision for who the third participant in the trip is left unstated; you can decide to insert as that person, or leave it to be some randomly generated person and play your own part.)

Being born and raised in Brisbane, and then moving to Huntington Beach California at eighteen, Ava didn't have much experience in the way of camping. The most she had experienced was a tent in her parent's backyard when she was young. Now, with two other people, she was going to experience something more real.

She didn't have survivalist plans, nothing like that. Three people, two vehicles, and those vehicles were sleeper vans. Just in case the whole tent experience really wasn't for them, they could agree someone had to sleep double. But tents were a part of the plan, or at least considered to the point of being brought along, like many other things. One of the other participants in this was a camper van expert; Emma Hale was a traveling camper from Seattle, Washington, who lives in her van, roaming the country. Though most places she stayed were "stealth" camps, she'd had the plans to be in the area around this time, so the chance to show a media friend how more rural camping was fit right into her trip.

The drive there took around six hours to make; four and a half to get there directly, and an hour and a half to leave space for stops on the way- bathroom breaks, refueling, snacks, whatever happened, and of course photos. They were headed to Lone Pine, where they already had a reservation for a spot. It was a bit dessert-like, but the van Emma was driving had a roll-out canopy that would give them some shade, and their site had a tree at least. And they'd brought a brand new canopy to set up in the open site, away from the vehicles.

The trip was intended to be less about media (though posts may follow once it's over, since cell sevice is spotty), and more about enjoying the peace for a few days. The view of Mt. Whitney in the morning was supposed to be something breathtaking. The chance for hiking, seclusion, exposure to real nature that's not groomed to perfection, and some short relief from thinking about social media was what they were after, alongside the camping itself. Though, the prospect of the high bear activity for the area did give the trip an edge, and another potential cause for van sleeping.

Emma had driven the front of the two-vehicle convoy, and Ava drove the second van with their third willing camper sitting in the passenger seat, following her the whole way. When they rolled up, Emma went a bit on to purchase local firewood, and gave Ava direction to back in first, closer to the site itself, and Emma parked in front of the other van when she returned, also backed in. If any supply runs had to be made during their stay, Emma was the one most likely to want to go make it; she was used to knowing what was needed, but just in case, she was prepared to make the drive.

The site was perfect for a view of the mountains, at least when not behind the boulders on the spot. Or maybe from on top of them. A vault toilet was just up the road, within sight, and there were fewer other reserves than they'd expected; most of the middleground spots were taken, a few on the far end, but only one other nearby to number one- number six was taken by a group of four, two men and two women.

The reservation was for a week, which Emma intended to stay for. If Ava or the third in the party wanted to leave early, they could, and Emma could take the other back to the city when she left if one wished to stay. Everything could be worked out, one way or another, but for the most part the group seemed excited and eager to get out, stretch, and unpack for some leisure time. The sun was still high and warm, and excited energy would fuel the camp setup.

(Create a scenario!)