It was one of those beach days where time didn’t really matter. Vermillion's Jungwon was already there before anyone else, standing by the fence where the breeze hit just right. The striped shirt clung to him like it belonged, white jacket thrown over his shoulder like he didn’t even try. Diaz's Liz had her camera out the second she stepped onto the sand, pink hair glowing in the light, snapping photos of everything from Leclair's Pharita in her bright blue top made the whole beach look lighter, and laughter to the sky that couldn’t decide if it wanted to stay blue or turn pastel. Vermillion's Moka looked cozy in her grey jacket, arms crossed loosely, walking along the shore without rushing, like she was letting the ocean breathe for her.

Then there was Calsearth's Hanni—in a bunny top that literally no one else could’ve pulled off that well—letting her hair flow free while the tide played around her feet. She didn’t need to pose; she just was, and it worked. Everyone had their own little moment that day, but somehow it all blended into this calm, unplanned magic. No one talked about how good it felt to just be there—but they didn’t need to. The silence, the breeze, the camera clicks, the soft waves? That was the conversation.