Closed Dance till you forget (Shiress)

[Cleon]

11th of Summer, 522 AV

It was the middle of the evening when Cleon showed up outside of the Aftermath, looking for Shiress. He hadn’t known what to expect so he came dressed in a long sleeved, light red shirt and a pair of gray trousers that flowed down to his ankles. Over his feet he wore a pair of high leather boots, a choice he was quietly starting to regret in the residual night heat. Instead of bringing his full pack with him he wore a black leather belt with a pouch of mizas and of course, he had his charm bracelet which acted as a container of sorts thanks to its newest addition.

When Cleon laid eyes on the people coming and going from the Aftermath, he started to get an inkling of the sort of place this was, however he hesitated to go inside just yet. Instead after thanking the Keiss that guided him there, he loitered for a while, thinking it through. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had come here after all. Shiress hadn’t invited him. Not explicitly anyways. He simply found out through his sister Faye whom was watching Ian for the night in their shared room.

What he supposed brought him here was simple curiosity. That and the fact that it sounded like Shiress was trying to get away from something. If he was being honest, that latter thought bothered him more than he’d let on to his sister as it got him worrying about the woman. Not that she couldn’t handle herself, she seemed capable enough of that. No, his worry stemmed from the fact that he sympathized with her position, and knew for a fact that this was not the state to be left alone in.

So that had brought him all the way out here under the guise that he would stop by to purchase a couple of necklaces and leave a note for Farren, neither of which he had done. Taking in a deep breath, Cleon decided to enter the Aftermath, smiling pleasantly at those he passed as he entered the darkened interior. What he stepped into wasn’t what he had expected at all. The smoky stone chamber transformed before his very eyes from one peaceful scene on a lake to high on a mountain top with a green world stretching below him. Cleon’s jaw dropped open and for a time he even forgot why he was there, drifting closer to the bar simply because that was what the others around him were doing.

Towards the back several people were pounding on drums in sync with one another to a beat that reverberated through his very bones. Cleon couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement at the noise as he bumped up against the bar. A lovely red haired woman leaned over the bar, and cupped a hand to her mouth as Cleon leaned in to listen. “Are you new here?”

Cleon smiled, and nodded slightly, a little embarrassed as he cupped a hand to mouth and leaned across to talk back over the noise. “Yes. How did you know?” He asked, drawing a bright smile and a giggle from the woman. “Its just you look a bit lost. How about I start you off with a drink hun, and if you need a little extra kick to get you started, you let me know.” She offered with a wink, to which nodded without giving it much thought.

While she was fixing that he looked around to see if he could spot Shiress in the darkness which took a couple of chimes before he saw a woman’s silhouette that looked similar to hers. By then his drink was ready which he thanked the woman for and dutifully paid before making his way across towards where he last thought he had seen Shiress. The drink itself was altogether unexpected. It had been lit with a bright blue fire that he had to blow out before drinking which he thought was an interesting touch. He sipped at the mildly sweet drink that tasted like berries and went down easily. He’d managed to finish more than half the glass when he finally reached Shiress who’s back was to him.

Reaching out, he tapped the woman on the shoulder then favored her with a wide smile when she turned around. “Thought I might find you here. I hope you don’t mind the company, but I’m more then a little lost in a place like this.” Cleon said, letting his eyes roam across to the dancers all around him as he had a moment to consider his own lack of grace in that department. Then looking down at his drink, he decided to polish off the glass in one gulp. With enough of these, maybe his lack of dancing skill wouldn’t matter. “Do you want to dance?” He asked a little nervously, looking over her shoulder back at the bar. “Whatever this drink is, its great by the way. I can get us a couple going if you want. I…” He looked around a little abashed. “Its alright if you want to just dance alone though. I’d understand, but if you want some company I can give some terrible dancing a shot.” Cleon was looking at her now, meeting her gaze as much as he could in the dimly lit hall as the illusion swirled around them.

WC - 899

[Shiress]

"Eat something Shiress.... you look like a bag of bones, and who wants to be treated by a doctor that looks like they are knocking on death's door?"

"How can you give medical advice to others when you don't even take care of yourself."

As Shiress slipped, skirted, and squeezed her way through the crowd of bodies milling their way around Aftermath's interior, Shade's words bounced around the inside of her head like a barbed arrowhead, slicing at her thoughts. And just like any newly formed opened wound, she couldn't help but probe at it and make it burn even more.

The man's tongue was just as barbed as that damned arrowhead, and, not for the first time, Shiress wondered if the Monk even knew how much he weaponized his words. They sliced and diced, that was for sure, and the doctor's confidence was a well-aimed target that the man seemed to hone in on.

Also, not for the first time, Shiress wondered about Nyka. From what Shade had shared about the city, it was more dog-eat-dog than even Sunberth. Shade had grown up in that, had trained in that, from what she had gathered, and when she thought about it, maybe the only way one survives in Nyka was a sharp tongue and even sharper actions. Monks were Nyka's fighters, proverbial employed thug bullies that likely used their words just as much as their fighting skills to do what needed to be done.

As Shiress stepped up to the bar, she had to fight a shiver. Perhaps Shade really didn't realize how hurtful his words were. It didn't make them hurt any less, but it sure made Shiress wonder how well she really knew the Monk.

A ginger-haired woman materialized in front of Shiress across the bar, giving Shiress a wide grin that revealed a row of exceptionally white, straight teeth. She leaned forward over the bartop, and Shiress, too, leaned in, meeting her halfway.

"What'll you have?" the barkeep asked, so close to Shiress's ear that a red curl tickled her nose. Shiress scratched at it while replying.

"Something very strong, very good, that doesn't burn too bad going down."

The woman pulled back, giving the doctors less than form a once-over that set Shiress's molars to grinding.

"I don't think you have enough weight-" she began, leaning back in, but Shiress interrupted her, eyes flashing angrily.

"I swear to the gods, if you finish that sentence, I will claw every bit of that pretty hair off your head!"

The female straightened with what, Shiress swore, was an even wider grin than before and shrugged one shoulder, mumbling something that she didn't hear before turning away. A moment later, the bartender returned and slid a glass tumbler across the bar to Shiress with a 'you asked for it' lift of her auburn brow. To the doctor's complete and utter shock, the woman struck flint over the rim of the glass, and a blue flame sparked to life, appearing as if it floated on top of the similarly colored liquid. The act so took her that she failed to notice the female lean in again.

"Are you here alone because that drink-"

"I'm capable of taking care of myself," Shiress snapped, interrupting the woman again, grabbed the flaming chalice in hand, and spun from the bar.

When she very nearly set the brunette locks of a passerby on fire, Shiress finally had the forethought to blow out the flames. The last thing she needed Shade to discover was that she burned some poor soul to death at Aftermath.

It wasn't until Shiress climbed into an unfortunately tall chair at an even taller table that she actually took in the place. Drink in hand, she swiveled in the chair, letting her gaze travel the club. Her first assessment was that Aftermath was very loud, and after a chime of searching, her gaze finally spotted the raised platform through the thin cloud of smoke that seemed to linger in the air, giving the place a slightly fruity, sweet smell. The dias hosted a variety of drums, flutes, several horns, and many other musical instruments that Shiress couldn't name.

The many bodies moving and undulating together on the crowded dance floor were next to draw the doctor's gaze. There seemed to be no one race that she could pick out among the mass of bodies. She saw Epharian's and what might have been a couple of Myran's and a handful of Akalak whose blue tinted heads rose above everyone else's, making them easy to see.

The choice of wardrobe varied as much as the races did. Shiress observed that some were dressed like they were attending a ball. Others, one Myran in particular, were clad in only a loincloth, the club's torchlights dancing off the man's array of metallic body piercings. A young female crossed over her line of sight, snagging Shiress's gaze. This one wore a bathing suit top that left nothing for the imagination and a pair of what looked like, to Shiress, men's trousers that had been cut entirely too short, nearly exposing the rounded bottom of her rear end. A very plump rear end, Shiress noticed, along with everyone else, it seemed.

The sight of the girl's well-proportioned body and soft curves had the doctor evaluating her own form, confidence plummeting. Nearly a fortnight into Summer, Shiress was still sharp-boned, with sunken curves and hollowed cheeks. A fact, among many other cruel reminders, that Shade unashamedly had reminded her of only bells earlier.

She had gone to the Monk, hoping to find a kind ear and compassionate understanding after a visit to the clinic for supplies. She had offered a bit of medical advice that was immediately snubbed by the patient and promptly -and erroneously, Shiress judged- disproved by the Akalak healer.

She had left feeling far less than competent, reminded of her near-fatal mistake at the pool, seemingly misjudged and valueless among Syka's people. For whatever niceties she had thought Shade would offer after hearing her tale, he'd instead validated her own negative thoughts, throwing in Shiress's current wanting appearance and lack of motherly skill for good measure.

Emaciated and neglectful were the word choice of the day.

Shiress had flung herself from Shade's room in a turmoil of hot tears, indignant rage, humiliation, hurt feelings, and just utterly done with being alive and in such a state that she nearly trampled poor Faye out on the deck.

She would need to apologize to the sweet girl tomorrow because whatever it was that Shiress babbled in her distress -something about throwing herself from a cliff and ridding those around her of her incompetence- Faye had immediately offered, then insisted when Shiress started to throw something, to take Ian for the night.

Shiress had promptly decided to go somewhere and get shykefaced.

Preferably, not in Syka; those tantalizing cliffs were just too strong a temptation. After donning a blue, bejeweled halter top that exposed the hollowness of her belly, and long, belted beige trousers, Shiress gave in to her failing confidence and pulled on an oversized, dark-colored, cotton tunic. The garment's hem drooped down past Shiress's narrow hips, and its sleeves were long enough that they nearly swallowed her fingers. Deciding to comb out her long, chestnut hair and leave it unbound to sway down the length of her lean back -better to hind behind- Shiress had left for Aftermath.

A tap on her shoulder drew Shiress back from her thoughts. She turned to see, of all people, Cleon standing at her table, smiling back at her, and Shiress could do little else but dazedly stare at the young man as he spoke, her mouth forming a little O of surprise at seeing him. Cleon had gone quiet, eyes darting around, looking for all the world as if he were searching for an escape, when Shiress finally found her voice.

"No, I...already have a drink," she replied, belatedly remembering that she did, and took a long sip, eyes going wide in appreciation when the sweetness of the drink washed over her tongue. So, she took another, this one longer and deeper than the first.

"I don't...can't dance either," Shiress admitted, blushing slightly, "perhaps together as two unskilled dancers, we would, at least, look like we knew what we were doing," she laughed, taking another long pull from the glass.

Blueberry, that's what it tasted like, Shiress concluded, as a sweet, subtle warmness began crawling its way across her skin. She appreciated the glass in her hand, feeling the mild aches and pains of her recovery start to ebb, and weariness was replaced by gentle energy. One last, long gulp left very little of the blueberry concoction in the bottom of the glass. Setting it on the tabletop, Shiress grinned over at Cleon.

"I'd love to dance," she said.

Shiress snagged the man's hand and led him to the dancefloor, stopping and spinning to face Cleon once they were tightly wedged between a pretty Konti, Shiress guessed, seeing her pale skin and hair, and a tall, muscular Chaktawe. Shiress had seen those kinds of black eyes before. For a long awkward moment, Shiress did nothing but stand there, looking up at Cleon with a look that clearly said 'now what?' But little by little, the music began working its beat into her legs, then her hips and torso. Before long, the doctor was moving and swaying, with hands above her head, eyes closed.

The music changed at some point, the beat of the drums quickening, and the dim torchlight of the club seemed to somehow flicker in sync with their rhythm, striking through the smoke rolling and dancing across the ceiling.

There was a thunderstorm overhead, and the sight had Shiress laughing, laughing, laughing away whatever negative feelings had accompanied her tonight. The room spun, and Shiress spun with it, changing course only when snagged by the wrist to sway against one body, then another. Cleon's handsome face swam into view every so often, and for several beats of the exhilarating music, Shiress would cling to her friend before she was let go to turn back into the rhythm of drums.

[Cleon]

The mood inside of the club was heady, almost intoxicating as people from all walks of life came together to simply be in the moment. At least, that was how Cleon understood it although at this moment he felt like he had two left feet and his tongue had been turned backwards. Shiress had that unexpected effect on him. Standing there, as real as can be. Cleon took another gulp of his drink, hastily nodding his agreement. He finished the glass before being dragged onto the dance floor after the woman, a thin sheen of sweat already coating his skin. It wasn’t necessarily stifling but the press of bodies mixed with the rush of alcohol, conspiring to make Cleon forget why he had come her in the first place.

Perhaps it was okay to forget in a place like this. For a little while at least. To leave behind who he was and just exist in this moment. The thudding of the drums reverberated through his chest as music reached his ears and he started trying to sway like he saw some of the dancers around them do. It was awkward at first. Mostly he concentrated on not stepping on anyone’s toes, or bumping into them necessarily but he stopped worry about the latter so much when the people around him didn’t seem to mind casually grazing past him. Sometimes it was more than a graze. A grasp more like that had him blushing and thankful for the flickering light of the club.

He didn’t always look to see who grazed him. His eyes were having a hard time leaving Shiress. Perhaps it was the familiarity in those features when they were utterly surrounded by strangers, but he took more than a little comfort in the fact that events had conspired to find them here now. After last season, they could both use a break like this. He certainly could, and he was determined to enjoy it. The healthy dose of alcohol certainly helped things along in that respect, filling him with a blind courage as he tried, and failed to dance as well as those around them.

Where there movements were all grace, his were uncertain, clunky and off tempo though he enjoyed himself never the less. The press of flesh, the lofty filling in his head from the alcohol, it all combined to make him feel truthfully exuberant in this moment. In the dark, between the thunderous beats of the drum, his hand sought out hers. His fingertips brushed against the back of her hand, and gently though with purpose he wrapped his fingers around hers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

It wasn’t something he had exactly thought of before doing. Just seeking out a bit of human contact in a room filled with strangers. The comfort of the familiar. Cleon took a step forward and stumbled slightly as he opened his mouth to say something. He caught himself, then looked up at her with a shy smile. A half hearted grimace played across his features a tick later as he glanced down at his feet reproachfully. He looked up, hesitated, then leaned forward so he wouldn’t have to speak so loud for Shiress to hear him over the music.

“I think they make the drinks here stronger than Stu does. I’m beginning to regret finishing mine off so quickly.” Cleon laughed, turning his head back around to catch her eyes. He froze for a tick as it suddenly registered their faces were a mere centimeters a part. The corners of his lips twitched into a grin as he pulled away slightly to continuing dancing. Swaying was the easiest way for him to keep with the rhythm, and so that was his default when he wasn’t trying to emulate some of the moves he saw around him.

It made him feel like he was a part of the crowd rather than a thorn sticking out of it, and that calmed his nerves somewhat as he continued trying to dance along Shiress as the crowd slowly transitioned into the next song. Then someone body checked him from behind, sending him stumbling forward. He managed to catch himself again, only this time it was with Shiress which sent them both tumbling to the ground.

There fall however was much less jarring than he expected. Perhaps it was because of the place being packed or a certain charm, but whatever the case was, they both went down with a light thud with Cleon just barely managing to catch himself before rolling on top of Shiress. His eyes were open, and he was staring down at her with a look of pure chagrin. From the way they had tumbled, his hands were flat to either side, straddling her basically for the long tick it took him to recognize the awkward position. It took longer than a tick because one more Cleon was aware of how close they were, and the alcohol… well he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to certain impulses.

Taking in a deep breath, he muttered “Sorry, someone pushed me” as he hastily pushed himself up onto one knee, then reached down to help her up as well. He didn’t immediately take a step back though once they were both on their feet. He stayed danger close, his eyes taking in her features as he sought the words to express these primordial feelings that stirred within his breast. The temptation was there, and with each thud of the drum he felt himself inching closer, his eyes still focused on Shiress. Taking in her gestures, her gaze, her everything. Trying to see if there was even the slightest amount of give there. Cleon took in another deep breath.

“Shiress?”

WC - 960