Time rolls by. Slowly. Slowly.
An expedition awaits, and the time to convene its first meeting rapidly approaches. The venue, changed twice already, is now the Black Hole Hot Springs, a favorite haunt of the local universities-- although with classes ongoing the crowd is sparse, the mood subdued.
A rough half circle embraces the small lake formed by the eponymous hot springs, fenced in only to denote the rough extent of the provided warmth, as asari governments often took great pains to offer free civil services. The black sand of the beach itself rises from crystal clear waters to quickly find most of the beachgoers, some in the water, more stretched out on the sand, bathing in the heat and occasional ray of sun. Roughly at the halfway point a circular bar sits, one side lined with stools seated in the sand, the other mostly submerged for swimmers to take full advantage of. A low drinking age and numerous nearby universities means alcohol, and several asari are gathered around, chatting and drinking in small groups.
Further back from the water, things spread out. A shirtless turian sits crosslegged some ways back, a rare alien on this asari world, a large sand sculpture slowing coming into shape before him. Along the side fence a human wearing a heavy winter coat speaks with several asari, a charming smile and his close proximity to the edge of the spring’s warmth keeping him cool. The rear of the beach ends abruptly at a seawall, against which three small changing pavilions are constructed.
Of Alys V’nado, expectant of impending visitors, there appears to be no sign. When the aliens begin to arrive, moving from cold and snow to the bubble of warmth the Springs provided, they get only curious looks and a few stares.