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Nataniel Khellasati (General Rakovanite)
Location: Aquarium Hallway
Dice Roll: 1, 9, 8, 7

“A lie.” Nataniel grumbled, staring at Basyl through narrowed eyes. He ‘loved sloshed Nat.’ Sloshed Nat was a chore for his friends, and Basyl himself had complained that excessive drinking was bad for his health, and he didn’t need any extra assistance in finding ways to harm himself. “I want to be better for you. We can… have fun… without anything extra.” Probably no one could put so much disdain and doubt into two otherwise bland words.

Because doubt it Nataniel did. He hadn’t come to this club with the intention to ‘have fun.’ He hadn’t wanted Basyl here at all.

But it was too late for that, anyway. They were already in it, and it wasn’t as if things were going poorly. Ivory was being well-behaved enough, and Basyl seemed fine, despite the couple of hours they’d already been present. Just a couple more to go. He could, maybe try and relax a little for his fiancé’s sake. And what better way than a glass of Ivory’s choice of mystery.

The boy came back with three glasses in hand and passed them around. It wasn’t lost in Nataniel that it was strange for him to have included Basyl.

But if both of them were going to drink a bit… No, Nataniel hadn’t intended to, and alone, he wouldn’t have. Tanwyn took a first hesitant sip while Nataniel watched with intent curiosity. “Oh,” he said shortly at the deduction. Definitely not his drink of choice. Not something he would consume for pleasure, and not something he wanted to be nursing for an hour. He could stick by his plans and leave a full glass in a nearby ledge to be forgotten about, while Basyl and Tanwyn dipped theirs.

…Or he could just be done with it. It was a short glass, it wouldn’t do much to him, and he wouldn’t have another. And maybe Basyl would think he was ready to ‘have fun.’

Nataniel stared into the glass, and decided this was fine. One drink to not be too uptight with his friends. With a muted thanks to Ivory for bringing it over, he swallowed it down in a couple of gulps. And that was that. Good. Fine. Nataniel could move on with the night. “Come on,” he said, pressing a hand to the small of Basyl’s back to urge him forward. “We should dance.”

EchosSweet

Basyl/Ivory

BiggerinTexas

Tanwyn

Sanaa Akinjide
Location: Lounge
Dice Roll: 7,5,9,4

Sanaa found a cozy corner in the lounge, away from the pulsating lights and booming music. She settled into a plush armchair, taking in the vibrant atmosphere around her. The lounge was filled with a diverse crowd - some were engaged in lively conversations, others laughing wholeheartedly, and a few were lost in their own world, swaying gently to the music.

The energy of the lounge was infectious, and she found herself caught up in the joy and vibrancy of the moment.

She watched as a group of friends danced together, their laughter ringing out over the music. Their movements were fluid and carefree, a beautiful display of friendship and connection. Sanaa couldn't help but smile at the sight, feeling grateful to be a part of such a lively and welcoming space.

((131))

Basyl Phloros (DM Super Narcissus)
Location: Aquarium Hallway to Dance Floor

“Wha- Heh? For me too?” Basyl squeaked in shock as a glass was pressed toward him. Ivory wouldn’t go out of his way to get Basyl anything, that much was for sure. So he definitely couldn’t place what might have spurred the decision this time (...besides that maybe he’d spat in it, or something, but Basyl didn’t want to believe that would actually happen- or worse). “Thank you, Ivory. That’s really nice!” He took a quick sip, magenta gaze watching the other for any sign of a reaction- But Ivory seemed completely disinterested. It was probably safe this time.

“Um, and no, it’s not a lie,” Basyl insisted, pouting in Nataniel’s direction. “I do love sloshed Nat. He’s sweet and excitable and needy, and I wouldn’t complain if I could see him sometimes without the need for alcohol… I g-guess he wouldn’t really be ‘sloshed Nat,’ then, but I would love him just the same.”

And yes, okay, it was true that Basyl did MOSTLY denounce the need for alcohol. It really was terrible in so many ways, a drug more potent and harmful than a handful of things that were actually illegal. He didn’t want Nataniel to need to drink to have fun- And he knew that wasn’t the case! But it sometimes did seem like it… Like now. He’d wanted to come to this club, but it seemed so strangely like he didn’t actually want to be here, even with all the interesting sights and discounted drinks, and Basyl knew he loved to dance. …It shouldn’t be so hard for them to have a good time.

He spluttered incoherently at how quickly Nat polished his drink off, but didn’t argue when they were being ushered out of the main aquarium. He tipped an over-the-shoulder smile back at his fiance, and gave a quick nod. “Alright, can you finally show me what we came here for?”



Ivory (Corrupt Super Calaverite)
Location: Aquarium Hallway to Dance Floor
Dice Roll: 3, 10, 10, 7

Good. All three of them could have that problem that people had when they drank too much. And then Ivory would be the one still standing, being completely lucid, and- …And being the only one left doing actual work? Um, no, scratch that, sounded awful! And he wasn’t going to be the one to make sure no one got in over their heads, either, so all of them better just behave from here on out! No more of that yucky stuff (even though it did please him that they all seemed very grateful about his efforts in getting them the first glass).

As they moved through the club, abandoning the large tanks in the hallways for the smaller (but no less scenic and glowy tanks near the dance floor), Ivory clung close to Nataniel’s back, dutifully scooping grayed glowsticks from hands and pockets as they passed.

It occurred to him only once the bouncy, vibraty music was loud enough to be uninitiated- he hadn’t ever really… Well, he didn’t drink, he didn’t dance, he didn’t club. Aaaand… Even though he liked the fish tanks (he liked the glowing, and he loved the fishies), he wasn’t sure if any other part of clubbing was really for him. “Tanwyn,” he hissed, dragging the other man to a stall outside the door, while Nat and Basyl pressed forward.

Preston Burroughs (Captain Cryptomelane)
Location: Aquarium Hallway
Dice Roll: 8, 2, 1.

The cat on Laike’s shoulders was being so quiet that Preston almost started to doubt his initial conclusion. Maybe he was wrong. It had happened before, albeit not about magical talking cats.

But on the other hand, watching the boy made Preston feel like maybe he was right? He couldn’t be entirely certain, but between the star and something about the way that Laike moved his head felt……off, somehow.

Not that Preston could truly identify how it seemed off. As much as he did want to connect with more Negaverse colleagues as a matter of principle and self-preservation, he had to stifle a sigh of deep relief when Laike and the cat riding on his shoulder finally left for……somewhere else. The lounge, maybe? It sounded like he’d said the lounge.

It was, however, getting somewhat difficult for Preston to think clearly. And for him to breathe properly. He’d never gone to a night-club before, and after tonight ended, he didn’t think he ever wanted to visit another one. Looking around the aquarium hallway, the faces he didn’t recognize all seemed to blur around the edges. Some seemed to blend together, or to smudge themselves around until he could barely recognized them as human faces, much less as any distinct people in particular.

And his breaths were coming in shallow.

And his own skin felt like a noose around his throat.

And…… And he needed to get out of here.

Forcing himself to take the deepest breath he could manage (not actually very deep), Preston pushed himself away from his spot near the aquarium. He ducked around other patrons as much as possible, trying to avoid elbowing them as much as possible, just rushing for the nearest men’s room.

Everlee Device // Eternal Hestia
Location: Lounge at the bar
Roll: 1,10,1, 3
words: 154 (635 total)



She briefly wondered what "paying a visit to everyone" would entail. It seemed equally possible that they may intend a reward for avoiding a bloody fight, or a punishment for failing to do so. Everlee found both reactions rather reasonable of the youma. She felt Aelius's reaction very reasonable too, if only because he looked so lively and passionate in the midst of whatever he was saying.

"Good for him," she said quietly, even as Mr. Baz grew increasingly concerned. She tsked a little at his parting back, pretty though it was. He underestimated Waru's inner resilience and the innate power of his pheromones. Which was proven correct fairly quickly, as a tall, shark-like figure soon approached the two.

"You're gonna need a bigger boat," the forever maid intoned, expression solemn as she redirected the drone to creep on Aelius.

Preston Burroughs (Captain Cryptomelane)
Location: Restroom
Dice Roll: 8, 2, 1, 2.

Preston didn’t know how long he spent in one of the restroom stalls. He didn’t care to know because he also didn’t know how long he would need. Thankfully—in some small kindness from the universe—whoever had slapped an “OUT OF ORDER” sign on the stall in question hadn’t bothered to lock it so nobody could get in.

Dimly, Preston felt that this was a pretty considerable oversight. Not everyone who’d ignore an “OUT OF ORDER” sign would have the good sense not to try and use the broken toilet. Plenty of people might have exacerbated the problem and seen nothing wrong with having done so. But these thoughts came to Preston scattered and indistinct amidst the dozens of others that screamed around his skull, rushing and whirling and making his head spin so hard, he thought that he might be sick.

Correction: he did get sick.

The trash disposal on the wall had paper bags in it. A quick fumble to retrieve one, and then Preston buried his face in it. Better a moment of private humiliation than creating an even bigger mess for whoever would end up cleaning this place or fixing the nonfunctional toilet.

For several long moments, Preston hovered over the bag. The smell of his own vomit didn’t help, made him feel certain that he’d throw up another time. He didn’t, but he didn’t understand why not.

Then again, he didn’t understand why this was happening, either.

A moment of appalling failure to display anything resembling conventional social graces was nothing new. Something that Preston did not, as yet, have the power to simply ignore as one of his flaws, but nothing new. Yet, something about being out here at the club, surrounded by people but feeling completely alone amongst them……

Something made the cold, hard sting of that failure slice through Preston more easily. The bite of it felt sharper. The shame of it felt hotter as it rose to his cheeks. The tile floors all seemed to gleam under the restroom lights like the sunlight hitting the sleek, long-nosed hood of a white Bentley R-type Continental, still pristine despite being sixty-two years old.

(Had he really seen Brother Horace’s car around campus this afternoon? Out of the corner of Preston’s eye as he’d left the library, something had looked so much like the Bentley. But maybe it hadn’t been. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe if he’d gone to investigate, it would have been someone else’s car and Brother Horace would not have been there, waiting for Preston to step outside the bounds of the order of protection—)

For the first time in too long, Preston managed an actual deep breath.

He shoved himself up, then out of the stall. The paper bag of vomit wound up unceremoniously dumped into one of the restroom’s trash cans. Once he’d washed his hands, he retrieved a travel-size toothbrush and toothpaste from the inside pocket of his waistcoat. Scrubbing out his mouth didn’t help to steady Preston’s nerves, but at least it made him feel somewhat less disgusting.

Triton Cless (Lt. Zultanite)
Location: Around/Anywhere
Action: Serving as Temporary Bartender/Waitstaff. No, he's not checking his phone like a man looking for a fire alarm to pull!
Dice: 2, 2, 9, 5

Triton was desperately, haggardly, leaning against the nearest -- the ******** was he now? Back by the fishtanks -- how when he'd just been over by -- and it was only now he was realizing what an entrapment, windowless maze of a place the area was. By any kind of cassino/bar-owners standards? This was A+ s**t, he had to give the 'verse it's flowers the same way he would've to grocery stores that didn't have clocks in em so nobody could tell how long they'd been shopping unless they checked their own time.

Which -- when alcohol was involved? On an opening night? Almost nobody checked any kind of time.

Triton did though, was, actively. His phone, his messages, his neat little circular tray tucked up under one armpit and he did take a moment to just breathe to himself----

Triton Cless (Lt. Zultanite)
Location: Around/Anywhere
Action: One child delivered to the front lobby for pickup, this creaky old-timer who isn't that old is going h o m e!
Dice: 2, 2, 9, 5, 6

The one minute became seven, became five, became ----

Was that a child!?

*WHOSE CHILD WAS THIS!!! *

Pantleg clinging, fishtank smacking, bright eyed, exciteable, babysitterless, child!!

Triton groaned some foreign, whispered expletive straight from the depths of his black, crowded, overburdened soul. Decrying how he was too old for this s**t in so many ways, and yet? There his soft spot for little's was staring right back up at him. It reminded him so much of Coady, too teen-busy to answer, too in his own world to give back more than emoji's or single words when he did text!!

"Alright, alright, litll...dumplin? You look like a dumpling. Tsshck...let's get you home, and then? I'm clocking out of this nonsense."