Like Father, Like Daughter

The main beach in Mumen, the nicest of the seaside districts, is constructed out of sand imported from the dunes of Africa. Where the rest of the country has black sand, a symptom of its volcanic turbulence, Mumen has nice yellow sand.

Baron doesn’t like the water, and getting him down to the sea at all was a trial. Zelda, for her part, sinks faster than lead in water and only ventures into the shallows with Ayn, who herself is afraid of the deeper ocean. She spends most of her time on the beach in her clothes, watching the other girls splash and compare suits.

Baron here is reading his paper, The Atlantic. I wrote a bit about that organisation here. Zelda is reading a horror gazette. A naturally curious girl who enjoys newsreels and documentary, she swaps with him when they’re done. He claims he doesn’t like her horror gazettes, but he keeps taking them, and he keeps reading them.

The sunsets of Vekllei are nearly as legendary as the Aurora, and when the end of the day is at their backs it’s finally dark enough to face the sun and watch it settle. They take the tram home and finish reading in the warmth of their eighth-floor apartment.