Ethan Bialecki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ethanbialecki) wrote2014-10-11 10:24 pm
ethanbialecki) wrote2014-10-11 10:24 pm
Entry tags:
You're Invited. To a UV Rave. [Open]
For an event so well known, there had been almost no advertising. The venue located in an old warehouse near the docks that had been renovated purposefully for such an event. And yet it had drawn quite a large local crowd - to the displeasure of some.
Everybody that pays the entry fee receives a free glass of champagne and a small bottle of UV paint in their prefered colour upon entry.
Throughout there are bars serving a vast variety of drinks and 'paint stations' complete with brushes and vast arrays of coloured UV paints. Allowing clubbers to be as creative with their ideas... or just plain messy as they wish.
There are two DJs, playing in different sections, one with the more traditional 'Electronic Dance' style of music, the other playing a selection of requests and popular classics.
It's designed to be a night the people of Siren Cove will remember - or forget if they choose to drink enough.
(OOC: I realise we have quite a few people on hiatus. Please feel free to join in even if you're late. Tag whoever you want, take who you like and have a lot of fun. Below I have included a couple of playlists - but I have terrible tastes in music so feel free to find your own playlists as backing inspiration)
Everybody that pays the entry fee receives a free glass of champagne and a small bottle of UV paint in their prefered colour upon entry.
Throughout there are bars serving a vast variety of drinks and 'paint stations' complete with brushes and vast arrays of coloured UV paints. Allowing clubbers to be as creative with their ideas... or just plain messy as they wish.
There are two DJs, playing in different sections, one with the more traditional 'Electronic Dance' style of music, the other playing a selection of requests and popular classics.
It's designed to be a night the people of Siren Cove will remember - or forget if they choose to drink enough.
(OOC: I realise we have quite a few people on hiatus. Please feel free to join in even if you're late. Tag whoever you want, take who you like and have a lot of fun. Below I have included a couple of playlists - but I have terrible tastes in music so feel free to find your own playlists as backing inspiration)
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It was a girl he had slept with (Emma? Emily? Emmeline?) that had told him about this, pulled him along right inside before disappearing into God knew where. Which was only more convenient, because Bach didn't want to give her any ideas about ability.
"..they call this shit music?"
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The other side they had left blank but flecked paint across the top of his shoulders – considering they were exposed in the white vest top he had opted for. Considering there was UV Paint, he was no doubt going to ruin any clothes he actually really liked. One shot, two shot and suddenly Erin and Alexis were gone. Probably off flirting if he knew his sister, but still It left him with an uncertainty what to do.
Buying a JD and coke, he turned round, smacking straight into someone else and a portion of his drink slopping out over the rim of the glass. “Oh, crap! I am so sorry!”
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He's got a good buzz going and glowing pink kiss marks all over his face from some girl who had grabbed him to dance with, who kept kissing even when he told her that he wasn't into girls. He'd extricated himself from her after a few shared laughs and a peck goodbye and danced his way through the crowd, hips rolling gracefully in time with the music. His skin is glistening with sweat and the collar of his plan white v-neck tee is stretched out from someone grabbing it earlier, glowing bright against his tanned skin.
The music is loud and the booze is good, and he's having a great time. All he needs now is another drink and someone cute to dance with, paint on, maybe more. He's ready to see what adventures this night brings him.
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Genevieve had opted to go with a tank top and some short cutoffs, the sort of thing she didn't mind getting paint all over and were easy to move in. What was the point of going to a rave if you couldn't dance well? She had just enough to drink to get her loosened up before she headed out onto the dance floor.
"Hey," she said, grabbing someone's arm as she headed to the dance floor. "Come keep me company?"
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Only one way to deal with things you're afraid of. She downs her champagne and heads onto the dance floor, paint in hand, glancing around for familiar faces.
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So here he was, a beer in one hand and his pot of green paint, half of which was already in his curls, in the other. He was trying to give his friends his attention, they were all buying him drinks in what he assumed was an attempt to get him drunk to make him relax, as they talked and danced half heartedly...but his gaze couldn't help scanning the crowd for one particular friend.
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It's pretty cool outside but he shows up in black jeans, boots and an open white waistcoat and little else besides eyeliner; he might not be 20 anymore but he's still capable of dancing himself warm. Which he's well on his way to.
He extricates himself, just long enough to grab a drink and cast his eyes around for familiar faces.
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If Gemma has a superpower—and she doesn't count her meagre magic because that's not particularly super at all—it's always knowing where the party is. She spins in the lights and dances to whatever music she's nearest to and occasionally flashes a smile at someone she's sliding, spinning or grooving past, around or, occasionally, into.
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Plus there were a lot of hot, drunk people wanting to be painted. He could manage that.
He finished a curlicue on his latest subjects shoulder and nudged her gently away.
"Okay, who's next?" He called, sipping his drink.
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He knew he needed to get out and have some fun after spending so much time holed up in his home office working on his new book, and when someone invited him to this thing, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
But now he's here, and he suddenly feels so much older than his twenty-nine years. It's been awhile since he's let loose like this, and it's taking him a minute to try to remember how to do it. His life has been press tours and signings and meetings with lawyers and publicists and editors for so long, that it's hard to remember how to act young again.
He looks down at the glowing blue paint in his hand and opens it, dragging two streaks up each cheekbone like war paint, with matching double lines under his collar bones and leading into the low vee of his light pink shirt.
"Hey," he calls out to the first cute person who passes by, "wanna dance?"
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In all honesty the shots were a godsend, several tequilas, a Sambuca and vodka; he was then pulled over to the dance floor with the addition of two luminous blue hand prints on his neck and various pink finger paintings across his chest and back. Zoey’s confidence was something to be admired though, and her dancing was incredibly suggestive for a lesbian dancing with an asexual male. “Oooh! Jager!” She yelled in his ear, “Stay here, I’ll be back!”
And that was how Alfie found himself minus his shirt, stood alone in the middle of the dancing masses.
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It had been 3 weeks, nearly a month since she gave birth. And her body was slowly returning to how it was. To look at her now, it would just be thought she was a little pudgy in places, rather than post-pregnancy. Her stomach soft and a little rounder than it had been 10 months ago. Even still, her shirt was wide necked, one sleeve resting off her shoulder. The base of it rose above her navel whenever she lifted her arms up.
Technically Bonnie was underage here, only 20 years rather than the legal 21 years. But she’d charmed (metaphorically rather than literally) the bouncer into miscalculating somehow, or he’d let her in anyway. Entrance taken as proof of age at the bar meant the rest had been easy. And now she has what looks like a space constellation painted around the outer eye of both eyes. It’s amazing and she wishes she remembers the name of the guy who did it. But for now she grabs another JD and coke, dancing near to one of the large speakers.
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Louise, who so very hard wanted to try and do new things right now, had said yes. After asking about a dress code (old clothes), location (old hall) and need for money (no need).
Now, waiting for him outside of a rave, decked out in an old black shirt with a low cut back and some ancient jeans, she was unsure if she wanted to do this. Sure, no-one she knew would be here, she might not even be recognized because of how dark it even was, but was she cut out for this? Did she want to this?
Waiting made her only more nervous. Rhodri could come find her. Louise stepped inside.
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