"The time has come, young witch, to seek out my patron and take the next step in your training."

Those were the words of your tutor, a true scholar of the arcane arts in this modern world, before she sent you on your next quest. The glint in her amethyst eyes was not one she had ever graced her countenance before, at least in living memory, but nothing about it seemed dangerous or untoward. If anything it was, wistful.

"Go, now, and you will begin to fully understand the joys of our station. And don't forget to pack for the season!"

You were an excellent student of magic and sorcery. The witch had found you at a young age in, of all places, a major city. It was rare for humans to display such talents and rarer yet for them to tap into them so far from the natural world. Her tutelage began shortly thereafter, making sure to keep the happenings clandestine lest the rest of your life discovered what you really were: a witch.

She told you of the true way of the world: of the war between Order and Entropy, of the realms of the fae, both light and dark, and how to traverse these paths via Runegates. She taught you how to tap into the leylines of power that coursed through all existence and how the stories of myth were rooted in a grim reality. She was also rather blunt in the fact that in this world, she, and by proxy you, were agents of Entropy, serving those dark fae sometimes known as daemons. One such daemon was her patron.

The very same patron you were now to train under, nearly two decades after your journey began.

The directions were clear, in confusing. Apparently this dark lord had set up their corporeal station at a beach frequented by tourists. After a day or so of travel you arrived at your destination. Runegates were at their most stable in places of transience and so it made some warped sense that your new patron would be found where sand met sea. You figured his home would be in a cavern under the sea or a derelict manor. Using the powers at your disposal, sensing the thrum of energy you followed his ethereal footsteps to a shack right on the edge of civilization.

The pulse carried you through a main Street complete with scantily clad revelers and too much cheap booze. Trinkets hawked at the passersby and various shops all adorned with the face of a devil, nicknamed apparently the Demon of the Shore. Finally after pushing through the human throne you came to the sand and fresh air, pulled inexorably towards the source of the thrumming.

There was no great shadow. No terrible presence. Instead there was a man sitting in a beach chair with a beer in his hand. He wore floral print shorts and nothing else besides sunglasses. Nary a hair on his head, the look meant he could have been anywhere from fresh out of college or nearing retirement. He regarded you briefly, letting out a burn as he titled those shades down. His own purple gaze swirling as he let out a laugh, the shadow of his true self cast against the endless grains.

Sun, sand, and summoning beings of eldritch power. Looking for a modern fantasy play that's a bit more light in tone. You are a powerful witch who is ready to take the next steps in their education. As it turns out, your demonic patron is a beach bum. What will happen as she adjusts to her new life at the beach and her new...responsibilities? Happy to flesh this out with a partner. As always, all prompts are open. Reddit PM preferred.