Dance Party

[Ascendancy]

   

I'm at the bar. Come find me, you handsome devil. 

He responded to the message and looked up about the time the beer was placed before his neighbor. "It's on me," he said to the bartender. "Least I can do for another Yankee," he replied. He reached out as though to shake hands, only to realize the man was an amputee. Obviously then he felt like a right asshole and promptly retreated his own arm back to himself. 

A blonde squeezed in on the other side of the American. He'd been away from the United States longer than he lived there, but even now he felt like an imposter including himself as one. Still, no point in baring his entire soul over one drink. Yet.

In the way of such things, a conversation between two people at the bar seemed to automatically include anyone in earshot. Some sort of social order allowed for eavesdropping and outright interruption in a welcomed, acceptable way. He flashed her a charming smile that won him the flutter of many a previous eyelash and spoke to them both, "It's good out there. Did you see those giant dogs walking around?" 

[Nox]

Nox grinned at the man and offered his right hand up to the man. "Thanks. Nox. Kinda funny seeing so many of us around here. Amazing how many I've met - almost more than the Russian's I've met." Nox nodded to Rowan next to him. "That's Rowan, Aiden's twin sister." And he nodded up to the lead singer. "And those are wolves." Nox hadn't met Sioban at Dorian's but it didn't matter he knew those were wolves - he'd hunted in the woods enough to know the difference. Which made Sioban a wolf sister. A tame monster who had Nox been a different kinda Atharim he'd have had to make a report. But he wasn't going to. Hypocrite - probably but he wasn't going to kill himself because he could touch the power of the gods.

He, however, was grateful that the snake was gone from his arm. The tattoo bothered him, a constant reminder of the pain he'd endured, but then the missing arm was hardly better in that respect. "Fancy another go after you catch your breath and have a drink?" Nox nodded to the dance floor with a brighter grin. Rowan could come too. He was pretty sure Rowan was going to ruin any chances here, but then he had been texting on his phone too. Picking up a guy wasn't exactly something he did often. Hell, this was the first fucking time.

[Armande]

The ear-piece dinged- which was needed. Armande could barely hear anything over the bass of the music- and he checked his wallet. He couldn't help but laugh.

Yeah, Nik was attractive, but that didn't mean Armande wanted him. He never barked up the wrong tree. He knew Nik. And loved him as his brother.

And as an archeologist he had enough puzzles to work out. Pottery shards hold only so much fascination. Something to be worked out, for sure. But not when it came to matters of the heart.

In any case, the club was huge and it was only at the third bar he found Nik at. He smirked. Nik knew how to ingratiate himself.

He hit him lightly on the shoulder with a fist, noting the handsome man who engaged his attention. The lack of an arm was the focus, of course. Not that he'd pry.

"From the look of the women, I'd say you've been playing hard to get, Nik." A few eyes were glanced in their direction. Armande did notice. On the main, one night stands were not his thing.

But a conversation that lasted the night? Well...he was definitely interested. The mind was the sexiest organ a human owned, after all. And his roamed everywhere.

[Ascendancy]

Nikolai was impressed with Nox’s knowledge of the club, going so far as to elaborate on the identity of the woman on his arm. Nik twisted around to glance upon the distant stage. Admittedly, he recognized the music, but had no idea of the identity of the musician. It just wasn’t the sort of thing that captured his attention.

He was about to accept a return invitation to dance when a clap on the shoulder interrupted. He chuckled at the glib comment regarding a distinct lack of female companionship at the moment. “Beating them off with a stick,” he replied. The last time they were out together, Nik distinctly recalled going home with two brunettes while Armande tucked himself to sleep with a library book. You just can’t compete with tall, dark, and handsome.

He realized then that a name had been offered. He gestured toward the amputee, “Armande, this is Nox. You’re sure to despise him as he is also American,” he laughed. Armande’s tastes were less than admirable for the general American culture and their stereotypical laissez faire attitudes.  He turned back to Nox, “I’m kidding. Americans are very popular in Moscow. It's practically the new Hollywood. Call me Nik.”

[Rowan Finnegan]

Rowan nodded graciously to the newcomer. Another American. Since she had come to Russia, it seemed like she had only met people that were foreign born. That’s how her home, New Orleans, was though. Hell, her own family was transplanted from the United Kingdom. It was a global society they lived in now. Borders didn’t mean much when you could hop on a plane and change your whole life around.

                Another man approached them, he caught Rowan’s eye immediately. She thrust her chest out, sucked in her stomach, and started toying with strands of her honey blonde hair. She waited patiently for Nox or the other American to introduce her to the new man.

                They all but ignored her.

                Gay. They’re all fucking gay. If I were Aiden, they’d be all over me, she thought with an eyeroll.

                With that, Rowan all but ceased her frivolity and downed the rest of her drink. She signaled the bartender that served her earlier. He was on the other side of the bar and tried to ignore her, but Rowan was not having it. She embraced the source and used a switch of Air to spank his bottom. He jumped about three feet in the air and spun around, looking directly at Rowan.

                “Oi! Another!” She yelled over Blarney Stoned’s second song, another cover, Lana Del Rey’s Gods and Monsters.

[Armande]

Armande was just about to say something to Nik and the other American when his eye caught the blonde. He nodded to the man Nik introduced. "Armande," he said in passing.

She seemed irritated. Strangely, the thumping and noises seemed to encapsulate themselves in a bubble. It had been an interesting thing, he'd discovered. He was well versed in philosophies and meditative techniques. He even dabbled in them, over the years. Of them all, the Chongg Ran had always appealed. Detaching from the body was the first step. But then, later by layer, creating the world to study, that was where the real appeal came from.

It was only a hobby, really. But at this moment he felt time telescope and reality recede into layers, as if he could turn them on and off at will. What was off ceased to exist. A thought and it disappeared.

The blonde on the stool, irritated and ordering a drink remained. American, but with a slightly different accent. He wasn't well versed on all the regional differences. There was a hint of French, though.

He pushed to the bar and ordered a scotch neat. A sipping drink, to be sure. Losing control was not something he did. He flicked a blue eyed look at her, a reserved smile on his face as he let his eyes linger.

Nik thought him asexual. And he certainly did not require companionship to feel powerful or worthy. But he did take his delights...but only when he chose. And for some reason, he was emboldened to see what happened. Giorgio had happened that way. And Daniella. 

He took a sip and felt the burn. "Forgive me. I am Armande."

[Aiden Finnegan]

Aiden finished Stupid Love and the band launched right into Gods and Monsters. The Blarney Stoned cover was much more upbeat and less… ‘coke-whore’ than Lana’s version. Oh, he respected her career, but it was no secret that she had enjoyed the wilder substances. Aiden never touched the stuff. Just weed, Adderall, nicotine, caffeine, and whiskey.

                Kyle Rice, the bastard, took the transition between to two songs to show off. Aiden sought the void and tried to play it off like that was the plan. But then he kept going.

                A five-minute drum solo was far too long.

                Period.

                Aiden embraced the Source and wove together a few threads of Water, unceremoniously dumping a gallon of liquid on Kyle’s head. The audience seemed to think it was part of the act, despite Kyle’s death glare. Aiden took that moment to alter the Weave and moved it over the audience. Bubbles and snowflakes seemed to materialize out of nothing, although it was the work of the One Power. The flashing lights hit the ethereal effect perfectly. The entire dance floor looked like it was covered with disco balls and glitter, but it was nothing more than the Water weave. Aiden wished he had access to the Power during Blarney Stoned’s first run as a band.

                “Yes, you beautiful people! Dance, dance, dance!” Aiden hollered over the microphone and moved right into the opening verse, “In the land of Gods and monsters, I was an angel, Living in the garden of evil. Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed, Shinning like a fiery beacon!”

                The crowd roared louder, sweaty bodies pressing into each other. They ate it all up. A broad smile appeared on Aiden’s face as he continued his song, “You got that medicine I need. Fame, liquor, love, give it to me slowly. Put your hands on my waist, do it softly. Me and God we don’t get along, so now I sing.”

[Sebastian]

After parking his ride, Bas sauntered up to the doors of the club. One of the bouncers looked at him, eyes pausing at the tattoo peeking out from his white silk collar. His jacket was cobalt blue silk, leather shoes jet black.

He raised an eyebrow and a half smirk before the door opened.

Goddamn right they let him in. He was Roman Mordinov's chief lieutenant. Now that his father had died, Roman was at the top of the most powerful family in Moscow. Bas went where we wanted.

And he wanted a drink. And to dance. And to fuck. In that order.

He walked in casually unbuttoning his jacket as his eyes swept the floor. Dark. He seized the power and while the music flooded his senses, the room lit up. Shit, but there some hotties in here. His nostrils flared.

A lion on the prowl. He laughed. Dumbass. He wasn't fooled. He was playing a game.

But he was very good at it too. And the best part was he always won.

Because he didn't fucking care. Life was experience. Was fun.

A brunnette stunner in a dress that must have made it hard to breath walked past to a table with her friends. His hand twitched. All in good time. All in good time

[Rowan Finnegan]

Rowan pulled a joint out of her bra and lit the thing while the bartender fixed her drink. She inhaled deeply, holding in the smoke.

                “Forgive me. I am Armande,” came a voice from her side. Shock overcame her and the smoke was expelled from her lungs in the most ungraceful way possible. A coughing fit overcame her entire body, saliva dripping from her mouth, which hung agape.

                Fucking. Great, Rowan thought to herself as she cleaned her face up with a cheap paper napkin. The joint was promptly extinguished in the glass ashtray before her. That was enough for one night if another person was going to actually pay attention to her.

                She recovered and prayed to the Loa that her makeup wasn’t completely ruined. A slow smile spread on her lips and she turned her face – ever so slightly - to the man that had previously caught her eye.

                Rowan opened her mouth, about to spout off a quip about ‘forgiveness being a virtue,’ or some other new age garble, but thought the better of it. She simply replied, “Rowan.” Turning her – once more thrust out – chest towards him.

                “How do you know Nox and Nik?”

[Armande]

The distinctive...odor of the joint was not missed. Of course, he had tried it, at university. He glanced at Nik, half smile on his lips. It was a place to sample many things.

But just as the scotch neat was a sipping drink, Armande, in the main, eschewed anything that caused him to lose control. Still, he did not begrudge the use in others. Merely that, given the chaos of his childhood, he preferred to always be in the driver's seat.

Blue ice stared into hazel embers that seemed to flicker between green and gold and brown. Like a flame was burning various minerals, color shifting again and again and again. A kaleidoscope of hues he could get lost in.

And all he knew was her name.

His hand reached out to touch hers lightly, a simple shake. Warm.

To her question. "Nik and I were at Bologna together. University. We have stayed close ever since." He glanced at the other man, missing an arm. A nod in his direction. "I only met Nox this moment."

He raised an eyebrow, taking a sip, feeling the slow burn crawl down his throat. "Just as I have been priviledged to meet you." He smiled politely, his English tinged with his Scillian accent. "Obviously, you are American. But I detect a French influence. May I ask where you are from?"

Without moving, his blue eyes seemed to lean in.