<sub>It wasn't quite her home off-campus.

To say that a comfort zone for her was any place outside might be the fringe of a mistruth; though Bexley wasn't one of those malign teenagers toward the quirks of nature, she wasn't one of those perfectly attuned to it either. It was beautiful, certainly, but the slope of a landscape or the subtle imageries...the nuances of the great outdoors were closer to being irrelevant to her than awe-striking. On that same note, though, it was an imbalance she'd duly noted of herself, and instead of holing up in the library as per usual schedule, she had found that today was as good a day as any to try and acquire a taste for the blue yonder and all the splendor underneath it. A nice enough day, she could appreciate it as she walked a long-beaten path through the world she was familiar ( if not completely comfortable ) with. It was a strange concept enough that the things scribed across the pages of books were still out there to be observed- it wasn't too late to make her own mark on this world, and that's what Beck was seeking to do. There had to be something out there to novelize, to lyricize, and she let the words and music in her head push her outside of it. It was something she wanted to understand, to teach herself to adore the way the great thinkers did;
Either that or she wanted to prove to herself that she could survive a foray into the big, scary real world.


And she was piqued indeed upon approaching the docks, a shirt flagging her in after an initial start at the shock of color. Water wasn't her element- in fact, she doubted she would have one even if she were interested in finding it- and so she'd planned before that to give the water a healthy space bubble. Upon closer inspection, though, ( her meddling nature brushing closer to her surface than she generally allowed) , Beck trekked up to the scene. She visually sorted out an outfit and a book sitting leisurely on the dock, completely devoid of a wearer or reader. Chess, huh?

Picking up the book and taking a look around, Beck let her curiosity get the best of her until a second start ( really, so very skittish considering her everyday life ) gave her a moment's pause. Looking up from the book she'd cracked to a given page, she watched as a pair of... tentacles tied a-- pair of pants to the pier.


Given to the light bout of logic sequencing every once-in-so-often, Beck was left with the notions of a cannibalistic freshwater octopus versus a shifter, and decided the latter of these was more likely. Closing the book and hugging it ( moral support, darling Beck? ), the girl leaned over the edge of the peer to make of the clouded lake what she could, which didn't end up being much to her easily outshadowed mortal eyes... And so she leaned.
A little


too


^far.


She fought herself and that bemoaned gravity for just several split seconds before pulling back violently and landing herself on her bottom on the pier with a surprised huff.
The book was luckier than her cell phone, which hadn't been lucky enough to return to balance with her after falling from her pocket and had instead gone to join the mysterious lake-creature she'd been vying for a look at.
Sighing, Beck patted the book and put it back in its rightful place, standing with a small wince and brushing off her skirt, the cotton of it having gained a bit of nature when she'd made contact with the dusty pier. Leaning was dangerous, she'd ascertained today. The Charleston was a breeze, but a breeze was a hurricane.</sub>