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Earth, as it turns out, is stunningly beautiful.
For all her doubts about the world her paladins originated from, even Allura couldn't deny that the planet had a certain charm to it. It was a magnificent mix of colors. Bright, blue skies. White, fluffy clouds. Entire forests of green. Fields filled to the brim with a diversity of flowers. It was all oh-so-foreign, yet painfully familiar. Despite her tendency to place Altea on a pedestal, it was impossible for Allura to ignore all the similarities.
If she blinded herself to the feelings of grief and loss and righteous anger within her, it would be all too easy to pretend that her world never perished. That she was back on Altea, enjoying some time off with her newfound friends.
But she could never do that. Not to herself, and certainly not to the family she has built in the last two decaphoebs.
It's been three movements since Voltron had arrived on planet Earth, just a couple of quintants shy of becoming a full phoeb. To say things have been chaotic is an understatement, and if it were up to Allura — she would still be trying to take care of everything. If it were up to her, she would be cooped away in office buildings and seemingly bottomless archives, paving the way for a more formal liaison between Earth's governments and the coalition that lays in wait beyond its atmosphere.
It's not up to her, however.
All decisions must be made as a team, regardless of her status as royalty.
This is the reason why she suddenly finds herself waddling through the sand, trying to keep her feet from sinking. She can hear paladins scream and shout by the shore, splashing water at each other and allowing their skin to boil under the intense heat of Earth's own sun.
Apparently, this is what the humans consider a beach day. A recreational outing, where humans spend hours upon hours by the shore, willingly exposing themselves to the risk of getting a sunburn. While Allura understands the concept, she cannot say she's terribly enamored with the fact that she's going to get an early onset of the slipperies if she doesn't cool down fast.
It feels a little bit like she's boiling alive, really.
Thankfully, she's not the only one who has decided to seek out the shade.
It takes her more effort than is strictly necessary, but she manages to reach the umbrella set down by her paladins earlier in the day. Lance is already sitting there, looking through his phone with his sunglasses laid low on the bridge of his nose and a healthy slathering of sunblock visible on his body. It had been a little funny to hear him go on and on about the dangers of aging one's skin by forgoing proper UV protection — but that had been before Allura's shoulders, nose and cheeks had turned an alarming shade of red.
That had been a mistake. Probably.
Lance lifts his head up when she approaches, raising an eyebrow when she gracelessly plops down on the ground next to him. She can only imagine how she looks. Sweaty, her hair a mess, sand all over her limbs. There is nothing regal about her at this moment, and she knows it.
Still, that doesn't stop Lance from grinning at her like there's nothing questionable about her appearance. Allura doesn't know if she should be flattered or downright embarrassed.
"Well, hello," he begins, lifting his sunglasses with his thumb and index finger and elongating his syllables unnecessarily. "Fancy meeting you here, princess."
Allura rolls her eyes, more out of habit than any true sense of annoyance. They've known each other long enough at this point to have fallen into a sort of routine. He displays his ill-advised sense of humor, she reacts with mock annoyance, and he fakes a melodramatic sense of disappointment. It's all in good fun, and though Allura isn't entirely sure when their relationship shifted to become like this, she wouldn't have it any other way.
"Fancy is hardly a word I would use to describe this moment," she says, not quite as exasperated as she could be. She pulls a stray strand of hair from her face, grimacing at the way it seems to stick to her forehead because of all the sweating she's been doing. Attempting to participate in the activities her paladins had described as a necessary part of the beach experience had been a mistake, judging by how miserable and sweaty she feels right now.
But Lance huffs out a laugh at her current predicament, undeterred even when she gives him a withering look. "Let me guess," he responds, "Not a big fan of the heat?"
She sighs, fiddling with the straps of her bathing suit so they no longer brush against her irritated shoulders. "Not particularly, no. Altea's climate was cooler than your world's by far."
"Yeah... I can see that," he drawls, sympathetically. "Used to see a lot of tourists at the beach when I was a kid. You're starting to look like them after they were done, uh... Sunbathing, if you can call it that."
Allura has no idea what any of that means.
She pretends she does, anyway, bobbing her head up and down and looking very serious about it. "Yes, well," she begins, weary. "I believe I'm done bathing in the sun for the time being. As enjoyable as today's activities have been... I'd prefer to spend the rest of the evening cooling down."
Lance hums, almost thoughtfully, before he puts his cellphone down on the blanket beneath him. "I think we have something that'll help," he says, jutting his chin forward in Allura's direction. For whatever reason. "Can you reach the cooler from there?"
Or, well — not actually jutting his chin in her direction. Rather, in the direction of the cooler currently sitting a couple of steps away from her.
"Oh," she responds, eloquently. "... Yes. Should I bring it over?"
"Sure," he tells her, "Just pull it over here. Unless you know what the freezer pops look like?"
A beat.
"... No."
"Yeah, uh. Just pull it over here."
It takes her less than a tick to effortlessly lift the cooler from its current location, moving it and placing it down so it rests between her and Lance. If her companion looks a little awestruck when she's done — well. She pretends not to feel smug about it.
A couple ticks later, and Lance is pulling out two brightly colored tubes from the cooler. The wrapping is transparent, and yet covered to the brim with foreign letters that Allura has yet to memorize. While the translation device implanted behind her ear allows her to understand a multitude of spoken languages, it does little for the written word.
"Here," Lance says, holding one of the tubes out to her. It's blue, she realizes, much like the lion she inherited from Blaytz — and from the paladin currently sitting by her side.
"... Thank you," she says, taking it in her hands and relishing how cold it is to her touch. "What should I do with it, now?"
"Easy," he tells her, tugging at the plastic until the topmost bit gives way. "You break it open and you eat it. It'll cool you down for sure."
"Eat it?" she parrots back, cocking an eyebrow at him. Though she doubts he would give her anything actively malicious, she has reason to be wary of humankind's more unorthodox habits. "This isn't like the milkshakes, is it?"
"—What?" he asks, his expression pinched. "No. No, no, no. It's water! I promise. Lots of water and lots of sugar. Nothing like a milkshake."
As it turns out, he's right.
It's nothing like a milkshake.
Allura smiles, biting through the tube after removing the plastic. She ignores the scandalized look on Lance's face.
"You know, Lance," she begins, her tone light. "You're surprisingly good company. I'm quite shocked."
"Aw, tha— Wait, surprisingly?!"
She laughs. He laughs in return.
And despite the nearly blistering heat, one thing remains true.
Earth is stunningly beautiful.
(Its inhabitants are, as well.)