station72 | PARTY PARTY PARTY

Entry tags:

PARTY PARTY PARTY

CHARACTERS: Everyone!
WHERE: The streets of Concordia
WHEN: Dusk til just before dawn on DAY 040
SUMMARY: IT'S A PARADE
WARNINGS: Add them to your top levels as necessary etc etc

As from the calendar:

Confetti! It's a parade! The annual Arista Parade, to be precise. Nominally a part of Aristana, the celebration of the ribbons of life, it's a holiday who's origins are nearly forgotten. Nowadays it's a big, raucous celebration pretty dedicated much entirely to drinking and partying. Almost all those in attendance will be wearing ribbons tied around their hair, their wrists, off of their belts and the edges of their sleeves. Pull one off, and you will be rewarded with a kiss - on the cheek, usually. The parade itself showcases a number of performers, costumes, and moving art pieces. It's route covers a number of the main streets of town (which will be closed, sorry traffic), and it lasts from dusk till nearly dawn on DAY :040. Have fun, if it's your kind of scene.

From the mods:

No notable NPCs are present at the parade - at least not in any official capacity. However if anyone wants to interact with a Concordian native, feel free to make up/interact with any randos you feel like!

Feel free to use this log for all of your parade day activities!

*moving art piece not included, original characters do not steal

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Oh, no, no, no, he is not at all getting out of this one.

She takes a mouthful of water and gives him a look that's frank and assessing. An upturn kick to her smile as she turns her wrist up, waiting for him. ]

Steve, you're not trying to get out of giving me a kiss? [ Her eyebrows go up, laughing with it - she's not at all being serious. ]

[ A brief moment of alarm: ]

No, I - [ He starts to protest over her laughter, then winces softly, letting out a light huff in humor with his admission. ] - am. But not because I don't wanna - [ err, he tilts his head the other way ] - not that I did wanna - [ wait ] - not that I planned it this way, I mean.

[ That's not why he invited her up here, is what he seems to be attempting to say. ]

[ This was - this was mean, probably, and she's trying to keep a straight face as he seems to be squirming around his words to get them out in a way that's polite. ]

Well - [ she's bright eyed, sneaky, mischief, she shouldn't tease as she leans back - holding her wrist up a little bit higher, daring him almost. ] - if don't want it I guess...

[ Hangs there, like she's waiting for whatever he'd do. ]

Edited 2016-10-04 12:40 (UTC)

[ Well - there's polite, and then there's backing down from a challenge. He sucks in a breath through his mouth, closing it so that he has to let the air out through his nose. His gaze meets hers for a second then shifts one of those ribbons. They're meant to slip off easy with a tug, but he doesn't want to pull on her wrist. Instead he ends up using both hands, working the ribbon undone the hard way with a deep concentration. The couch dwellers have untangled for a moment, one calls over in a sly tone: 'Need me to show you how that works, honey' - he ignores it, the ribbon in his hand a half second later. With a lopsided smile he meets her gaze again. ]

[ By contrast, Angel is mocking, she doesn't giggle at his effort, even when he has to stop and work it free. Rather, she stays as still as her evident tipsiness allows her to. Letting him work it free, stepping in close so he doesn't have to reach after he finally grabs one.

Granted, she's still giddy, still breathing quick on the inhale even when she tries to slow on the exhale. Hard to keep constant. All smoke and tricks of light as she smiles up at him. Feeling her feet in her shoes where they press against the floor, the curl of her skirt around her ankles. But when he's done, she tilts her face up: ] Well? [ and she presents her cheek to be kissed. ]

[ He's holding the ribbon in one hand, the skin of his neck flushing a light shade of red. Warmth and the bright spike of nervous energy permeates through the link. Another swift breath and he leans forward, hands folded behind his back and his head tilting a bit (suddenly very, very self aware of the big honker in the middle of his face).

His lips press to her cheek for barely a second, in that moment he doesn't mean to let the breath out that he's been holding, but it goes anyway, releasing through his nose just as he pulls back. Eyebrows raise, hands coming forward again with the ribbon between them. ] Thanks.

[ His voice is soft and he's still smiling. ]

[ She feels the soft tickle of his breath against her cheek. All warmth and - well, Steve, really. He's solid and dependable ( she does not know white knights outside of stories - but she knows him, instead, and she thinks that's better ), and right there against her. It's not the rush of when Ilde comes close, she decides, it's something else. It's surety. He's Steve, and he's there and she is - content - a rolling feeling that hums just where he touches her, flooding out through from that happy point.

Lets him pull away, a happy flush of pink in her cheek. ]

Any time. [ her eyes down, lips pressing together where the smile reaches up in the crinkle around her eyes. ] So have you got a plan, or what?

[ Playful, jerking her head at his companion. ]

[ His gaze slips to Della on the balcony, ducking his head and smiling. ]

Making it up as I go. [ He shakes his head, one hand slips around Angel's, gently urging her toward the open doors of the balcony along with him. ] You should see the parade from up here.

[ And sure, that's where Della is too, but this is really why he invited Angel up. The music from outside is booming, the sound vibrating across his skin, along his bones. One of the outgoing floats must have some kind of bubble machine, dozens of them rise up to the height of the balcony, drifting lazily into the apartment. Their surfaces catch the lights from outside, flickering in pinks and blues and greens. ]

[ She goes when he tugs on his hand, head jerky to look at the couple on the couch for a moment more before she pulls herself up to step with him.

She gets distracted easily when he brings her up, feel something breathless where the music is thudding through the walls of the apartment, through her skin. Every bit of her bristling all live wire to it. ]

Wow, that's amazing. [ It's leant in close to him, murmured in a breathless whisper by his ear as she looks over his shoulder, a breath of air expelled with it. It excites her, seeing it all, and whenever he looks back, this is all clearly getting to her in some way - because she's glowing. Not connected to technology, but brightly lit up from the inside as always. ] No wonder you're sitting up here still.

[ Down the block the crowd gives a sudden cheer for an energetic troupe of acrobat dancers painted in bright neon greens and blues. Out on the balcony his lady friend's watching, leaning shoulder to shoulder with a tall, lanky man. She locks eyes with Steve once, smiling as she lets her friend light a cigarette held in front of her lips.

He swallows and looks away, Angel's breath tickling his ear and her excitement swells in his own chest, warming his skin against the cool night air even as he almost shivers. He's hyperaware of the lack of space between them, and when he glances over his shoulder it's slow and with care, his gaze settling on her eyes and not her mouth. ]

- we should... bring something back for Ilde. [ When she wakes up. Ribbons, flowers, something. ] She would've liked to see all of this.

[ The drink and the press of bodies makes it easy to tuck herself against his back. Settled against the crook of his shoulder. For a moment utterly distracted, a pleased happy gasp at one of the performers is tossed high into the air. Then giggling like she knows it's so silly to be swept up. Yes, Ilde would have liked to see this - or she'd have found it too much. She could never quite tell, sometimes.

But she liked Angel, knew how to play a role when she must. Maybe she would have been performing on one of the floats? ]

Hm?

[ It's a soft vibration as she draws her attention back to him. There's no role to this, where she's tucked in against him. Eyes looking up to him, face lifting that little. All soft murmur of her words close in so he could hear her over the thrum of music. ]

There are as many colours as in her garden. [ The smile curls at the edge of her mouth, a puff of laughter that stays in between them. The thud, thud, thud of her heart loud in her chest to the beat that rocks through like shockwaves. ] I saw someone selling bunches of braided ribbons. I think she'd like those. What do you think? [ Her fingers slipping to thread through his, always soft, always curling around receptively, and it's just so easy to be giving and easy, right now. ]

Edited (weird sentence structure) 2016-10-13 13:35 (UTC)

[ He doesn't think it would be comfortable, leaning into him like this - his bony shoulder blades and bumps of spine, but it doesn't seem to bother her. Her content is his own, her elation at the performers' tricks bubbling up his throat. The beat of his-her heart presses against his back, her laughter both high and low, drumming between ribs and carrying in his ears-mind. Time compresses in small spaces, moves more slowly. His gaze settles on a corner of her smile for an hour only to flick back up to her eyes. His pale skin is flushed. Within their entwined fingers her hand is small. ]

I think she'd love that.

[ He's never known someone so joyful before, and maybe that's why, in this heady moment, he feels a little bit in love with her. ]

Yeah, I'll - [ she breaths in short and sharp, high in her chest as she's settled to him - no, no that's wrong she thinks, where she leans her chest against his shoulder blades, turns her face that little to his neck as her eyes are drawn - another brush of laughter and she's almost - almost oblivious to how he looks at her. Close and small and - where they're one thread, one shudder of his inhale and her exhale, beat and off beat, her eyes find his and her lips part on a word that never makes it - should she go, maybe, get it before she forgets, where she'll get devoured into the crowd and swept up in music and smoke and colour, because she feels so bright with it, where he's holding her might be the only thing that's tethering her.

But she's forgotten it as quickly as she says it, looking back at him in this small space they've carved out. There's a party of people around them, this a street bursting with life and there's him, just him, when she looks up. Suddenly, he really is everything. A world dimmed to the soft murmur of his voice, where she can feel the hum of his thoughts and - there's something to, she thinks. It's not all her, and her too many drinks and her thick happiness that is feeling her up like she didn't suppose she could be.

It's almost not a whole thought, a word - it's just a feeling, high like a musical note, sweet and soft harmony that comes with feeling: all quick, content intimacy that was all theirs. Nothing to put the walls up. Because - are we friends?

No, they're not settled. They're fitted together, perfectly. there's her and him and them and - ] ( Steve? )

[ Her words break off into laughter again and he ducks his head, this close he must smell like alcohol and charcoal dust. The air around them tastes like the smoke from someone's cigarette, sweet and unfamiliar as the booming, electric music, but it's dulled, out of focus as everything that isn't them. Their foreheads nearly touch, and a single strand of her hair that brushes his cheek has more effect on his synapses than all the rest of the party, a pulse shared.

Of the pair she's been the more tactile, always the one to initiate contact (always that way with him, he's thrown more punches than found himself wrapped in embraces). Held hands and her head on his shoulder, an arm around hers. Now - he's teetering on the edge of something, half-lidded eyes settling on the way her lips part, drawn in with a quick breath - ]

Yeah? [ The word echoes in his mind like earlier. His eyebrows knit together to form at deepening crease and he's pulling away a bit, starting to pull back into himself. ] We should go - before they run out.

[ For Ilde. The hand around hers squeezes gently. ]

[ She wants to just keep leaning into it - because she'll never not crave closeness, affection. The way even if he wasn't sure, he gave her both so thoughtlessly and the way she responds so happily to it.

But he pulls back that little bit and she blinks like she's coming out of a daze, the tip of a question that has nothing to do with Ilde, with what they should do. Presses her lips together, wetting them where her mouth feels dry and her head feels dizzy. Suddenly there is too many people, here, for something she isn't sure she wants anyone to witness, something all theirs and she doesn't know what that means at all.

Just that the world crashes in like one of her illusions separating. ]

Come on - it's, just down the street a little.

[ Her voice is, soft, dry almost. Like she's swallowing something nervous down. The colour in her cheeks. She's shakey, somehow, a heat that's curled so low and spreading in her that she doesn't think it's the drink somehow. ]

[ He gives a slow nod, concern for the change in her tone quick to sober him out of his own haze. The grip around her hand tightens again, and he reaches for the sketchbook propped up against a tall, potted plant, calling over to Della to thank her for inviting them in. He's already exchanged emails and an offer to meet up at her friend's gallery another day. Hadn't been sure if he could go. Later he'll wonder if he even should.

Only so many times you can dodge the truth before you're telling outright lies.

He's not thinking of that just yet. His subdued focus remains on Angel, staying close to her in case she needs to lean against him. Picks their path out of the apartment and back toward the stairs. ]

Which way?

[ His skin hums, and it's a little bit more difficult to make eye contact than before. ]

This way -

[ As soon as they're out of the apartment, it's a tug to let herself scatter to winds as the loudness of the music washes over the both of them. She likes it, she likes this lost feeling, doesn't need to be trapped or held together. It feels right, to be moving without thinking, her turn to lead him, where he is always the one helping her.

The way she doesn't feel like she's quite touching the ground. Where her skirt is at her ankles and the ribbons drape from her wrist and hair and neck. Looking back at him over her shoulder, grinning at him before she leads him on into the crowds. ]

[ This is her world more than his. Not the beat of the music or the press of bodies, what belongs to her is that willingness and want to lose herself in it. The only comparison he's got is the first day they trained at the Station, running a track mile and for the first time his body responded without fail.

That was freedom, this is something else, closer to free falling - especially when she turns and grins at him. His heart jumps, but it's exhilaration that flows between them, even when he nearly trips over someone's foot, nearly upsetting their shared balance for a second before catching himself again with a short hop.

Angel's ribbon is still clutched in one hand. ]

[ She's quick with it, unrestrained because she has no reason, there is technology buzzing against her senses, and him warm in her hand with the memory of how he was much closer in her memory, and the brush where she feels people pull at her from time to time, at her ribbons and she laughs and ducks away from them.

Spoken for, apparently.

It's a few more minutes, and they're almost there if she remembers where it was and not closed. Granted, it's not as young in the night as it was, the crowd is starting to thin at least of families with children, not quite so full as it was earlier. Makes it a little easier to dart through the crowd.

It's going well, up until she looks back to him to say something, like they're almost there, really, up until she bumps right into someone. Bound to happen, she's shockingly oblivious for someone so aware in other regards. Knocking him and his drink.

Oh, well, shit. He doesn't look pleased. ]

( Hey Steve, can you see an alley or something we can run too? )

[ He doesn't get a chance to warn her of the obstacle, the sudden stop has him catching Angel's shoulders, stopping himself from slamming into her too. He frowns at the man and his spilled drink, then opens his mouth, caught between offering an apology and answering the question in his head.

But the guy mutters a despicable word toward Angel and all at once both options go out the window. ]

Hey - [ He's straightening to his full height, moving around Angel and his tone hard. Maybe it's the deep voice that throws the guy off, because he's looking too high up for a second. ] - you owe her an apology.

[ The link heats like iron warming up.

And here we go. ]

[ Shit.

She's ready to laugh and wave it off, offer something sweet and apologetic the way she knows how to do best. She knows how to supplicate and get what she wants that way, or at least be ignored as a harmless nuisance and waved away.

But she really wasn't expecting Steve to step up when the man spits a word at her, and she's heard worse, and most definitely been called worse and she's about to stumble out her apologies with a big cheery smile.

Then Steve is stepping around her, stepping up more exactly and oh -- shit, shit, shit. ]

Hey, it's okay... it's my fault... [ she's squeezing his hand, ready to tug him away as quickly as she can. ]

[ The man's gaze shifts from Angel to Steve, shooting him an incredulous look that reads really? before straightening the same way, posturing with the threat of menace - whatever might've occurred after that is swiftly interrupted by an interloper, a friend of the first guy it seems, when he dumps half a pint over Steve's head. Cool off, gents, he says with a sly grin, and simultaneously shoulder checks his buddy into uproarious laughter as they start to stumble back into the crowd.

Steve's eyes immediately start to sting from the alcohol. He rubs at them, which succeeds in making it worse. ]

[ Oh, they should be lucky that she has absolutely no idea who they are, or she was going to infect every piece of machinery in their lives.

But they get to escape, as she turns into him. Immediately taking a fistful of her long skirt in her hand to bring it up to his face. Gently pushing his hands away where undoubtedly it's making it worse. Beginning to dab at his face with the thin material, around his eyes, trying to stop it from burning. After a moment, someone takes pity on them and passes her a cup of water and some napkins. Something to help him clean himself up.

Maybe it's good, keeps her busy then trying to catch up to the fact of something that sticks in her throat. He... stood up for her. Not in some abject sense, and it knots up in her chest tightly. ] Hold still, it's just water now, I promise. [ Her skirt dropped away, she steps in close with a soaked napkin to squeeze the access extra over his face to wash away the beer before she begins to dab it away. Her fingers are soft and quick, wiping the alcohol away off his face, ignoring where the water splashes on her. Cleaning it away so he eyes wouldn't sting so. ]

[ His pride takes a small hit. Maybe he doesn't go looking for fights, and he'd swear he's got nothing to prove when he does end up in them, but there's something about not being taken seriously right in front of Angel that prickles almost as much as that they walked off laughing without even apologizing for what the guy called her. He likes to think that he doesn't put that much stock in other people's opinions of him. Harder to keep saying that while he's standing in front of her now.

He lets her move his hands aside, staying completely still as she first brushes near his eyes: ]

You don't gotta - [ mess up your skirt, he starts to protest once he realizes what she's using, but by then there's a napkin and water too and he relents. ]

Thanks. [ Only the word sounds more like sorry, his mouth twisting into a faint smile that's at odds with the crease at his brow when he's able to open his eyes and meet her gaze. ]

[ As she finds his face again under all that mess, she feels something breathless and sudden in her chest. That creepy feeling of there being nothing but them amidst a sea of others. Close in as she dabs away the sticky alcohol, like she's looking for him underneath it.

When she does though, there's a frown on his face and she can feel where his pride stings. How he isn't looking at her - and if he doesn't how can he see how thankful she is? He'd stood up for her - wouldn't let something bad happen to her. Even if it was all her fault and deserved it, maybe. Should have been paying attention if she wasn't too busy finding the sky in his eyes when they were just so blue where they were all warm and half-lidded at her before.

The words start, that it's the least she could do, that it's nothing, nothing she wouldn't do for him a thousand times.

They form, shape and die in the same breath on her lips. None of it's good enough, all of it placating, and not half as much as what she means. ]

Hey, Steve?

[ And if he does, she's right, right there, all close in and something quick in her throat that leaves her pulse - beating in the same thud of the music, sharp staccato. Bird in it's cage beating to get out, out, out. ]

Edited 2016-10-19 16:59 (UTC)

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