You're Invited. To a UV Rave. [Open]

[ethanbialecki]

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)

UV Rave: The Club Anthem Mix from hitchhikingon on 8tracks Radio.

UV Rave: The EDM Mix from hitchhikingon on 8tracks Radio.

Comments

[sirenstoryteller]

"So they like to think." He felt one of his friends swat at the back of his head but it only made him laugh.

Alex kept up with him as moved to the dance floor, ignoring the cat calls of his friends and gently using his hands to guide Wren so he didn't back into anyone. "Yes, sir." He was a little slower picking up the beat, still sober enough to let his shyness get the better of him at first.

[fairywren]

Wren smirks a little at the catcalls of Alex's friends; he's never minded particularly being the center of attention. He's bound to get it, negative or positive, one way or the other and he'd rather it be for something he enjoys. As much as, before Alex got here, he was a little disconcerted by his own hope that he showed up, right now his attention is claimed and he doesn't particularly care if they're being watched.

He raises an eyebrow at the 'yes sir', smiling. "Hmm, I could get used to that," he says with an arched eyebrow, never too far from honesty even when he's sober and certainly not now. More often than not, in his past, Wren's been the one in the position to say such things, but it's a rule with the exceptions to prove it. He runs his hands down over Alex's sides to rest at his hips and tug him closer, leaning in to be heard as they both move. "Your first order is to relax," he says affectionately, mouth close to his ear. "You're allowed, I promise." He bites playfully at his neck and pulls back to dance.

[sirenstoryteller]

The 'yes sir' had been a tease, with not much thought put into it. But the reaction...that made Alex swallow a lump in his throat as he grinned brightly at the thrill that ran down his spine as Wren took it and ran with it. He'd never done anything like this before. Of course, he'd never trusted anyone like he did Wren.

He licked his lips and lowered his eyes, even as he kept smiling. His skin shivered as hands glided down his sides and he fought to take a deep breath so he could followed the command. His own hands gripped Wren's waist, a steadying influence in the chaos around them as he finally just let go and moved with the music and with Wren. "Yes, sir." He said in a teasing breath that sounded anything but submissive.

[fairywren]

Wren watches Alex: the lick of his lips and his effort to relax, the grip of his hands and his expression betraying his nervousness and the way he can almost feel him slowly relax.

He smirks at the response. "That's better," he teases back. Wren moves with him, slow, intent, keeps his eyes on his as if there's nothing else to look at, curves one arm up around his shoulder to keep him close as they echo each other's movement.

He picks up some of the still wet paint from his face and traces it down playfully in a green glowing stripe along his neck and collarbone with a thoughtful look. "Also that," he grins.

[sirenstoryteller]

The closeness of the arm around his shoulder made him take a quick indrawn breath but he relaxed again as he placed all his trust in Wren. It as easy, easier then it had ever been and soon it was almost nothing to be moving with the music and the other man, ignoring everything else around them. He admired the innate confidence oozing off Wren, as well as how amazing he looked under the black lights, all shadows and light.

The sudden paint on his neck caused a startled laugh to erupt from Alex and it did far more to help him relax then anything else. "I think two can play at that game..." He reached up and ran his hand through the paint in his hair, before applying his own hand print to Wren's chest. There was a certain flutter in his chest when he looked down at it.

[fairywren]

Wren can feel Alex noticably relax into his arms, moving with him, and he smiles, pleased at it, at seeing the walls come down and Alex just being himself. He feels good, dancing close.

There's a purity to people, when their concern for reputation and society and what people think strips away, when they're a little afraid and a little fearless, that Wren can't help but find beautiful, no matter what it is that lies underneath. He can feel himself letting the rest of the room, his own concerns about getting too close, fall away. He's been intrigued by Alex since they bumped into each other over jewelry at the festival and surrendering to that might be frightening, but it feels a little inevitable. And likewise, the academic has a lot of that posture to him, and feeling him let his guard down is a little bit delicious.

"It's not a game unless two are playing," Wren says with a raised eyebrow and a smile. He glances down at the glowing handprint left on his chest, catching Alex's hand and pressing his own against it flat, palm to fingertip, the paint slick between their fingers, enjoying the feel of the cold paint and the warmth of his hand. He leans in to kiss him, lacing their fingers and pulling him closer.