interstellar5555 | Time goes quicker between the two of us

Who: Lapis and OPEN
What: Catch-all for multiple threads, both open and pre-planned
When: Throughout March
Where: Multiple settings
Warnings: Possibly naked spa people?

A. Open - The Blooming Lotus is a full-service day spa, offering primarily the tried-and-true treatments -- massage therapy, facials, aromatherapy, mud baths, saunas, waxing, and other similar possibilities. The space is elegant, if just slightly worn at the edges -- a few scuffs on the wall here, a door that needs to be forced just a bit harder there. The wood has been polished so often that in places it's worn down to a patina, but the atmosphere as a whole remains warm and clean and quiet. The owner takes great pride in her facilities, and she has a long-standing list of clientele that can be assured quiet and preferential treatment.

"Luna" works here part-time. She's not a cosmetologist or a massage therapist -- one needs qualifications for those kinds of things, which she doesn't have. Instead, she's more of an assistant -- someone who provides towels, prepares treatment rooms, leads clients to their service appointments and arranges the ambiance for their comfort.

It's a comfortable spot to be when one wants a little pampering and to be off the radar for a while -- and for Lapis, it provides a reasonable arena for the gossip and news that flows in from Pride and Virgo. Come in for treatment and run across her.

B. Open - There's practice of some sort at Pride nearly every day; the use of dancers is rising, and there's work to be had at one performance or another. Even in the short time she's been there, "Luna" has risen in the ranks, called on more frequently than before for this job or the next. She's quiet, seems to tire less easily, follows direction quickly, and she's quite, quite good, able to read into what she's been asked to do and to add to it in a way that pleases her superiors.

She does take advantage of her proximity to the musicians, and can probably be found lingering when they're about -- seemingly focused in practice or performance or after-performance party refreshment table . . . but always listening, absorbing the world around her.

Run into her as she works around Pride -- hire her for a band performance, meet her during an after-performance party, catch her during practice . . . whatever works.

C. Open - It's raining. Fairly hard, actually -- one of those first thinking-about-spring rains that reminds people how hard it can actually pour. Most people are running for cover, cursing that they forgot umbrellas, trying to keep makeup from running off their faces.

"Luna," for her turn, stands still in the middle of the sidewalk, turning her face up to it, eyes half-closed as the water streams down, soaking her. She doesn't seem to be in any hurry to move, one hand coming up, outstretched and cupped, as though to try to catch the droplets.

D. Closed to Amethyst - There are two bus lines to take into the city to get close to both of her jobs. Lapis, or Luna, takes both daily, shaking sand out of her flats as she waits for the first on the nearest road to the beach. Thankfully J explained both buses and the exact change needed, or she probably would have been lost entirely.

She waits now, shaking sand out of her shoe and keeping an ear out for the grind of the bus motor as it heaves up the hill.

E. Closed to Oscar - She can't go into Virgo as Luna. For one thing, she's recognizable as a dancer affiliated with Pride. For the second, there's always the not-so-long-ago fight with the Virgo robots as they captured Steven. Going into Virgo under both circumstances seems like too much risk to take.

So she joins Oscar as he heads to the open audition as a small, freckled redhead -- perhaps inspired by Frisk's commentary that a friend of theirs was also a redhead and affiliated with the sea. She doesn't plan on dancing herself -- just watching, a friend invited for moral support.

"Why Virgo?" she queries softly as they wait for his name to be called, too soft for the others around them to hear. He's never claimed to have any connections here. And admittedly while she hardly trusts Pride . . . currently her thoughts on this place are even worse.

F. Closed to Steven - Practice hasn't gone well. The number of times she's been snapped at for being off time or out of step are innumerable at this point, and she's been asked (told) to step off to the side and get her act together with an implied "or else."

She sits to the side on the floor, her legs half drawn up, a towel (though completely unneeded) draped around her neck. Her head dips towards her knees, hair slipping forward around her face. She's still . . . absolutely still, as though she doesn't even breathe.

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There's something about her that feels like water. Maybe it's the fluid movements when she dances, seemingly so focused on it. Maybe the quiet presence that never seems out of place somehow, as if she shapes it according to her surroundings. ~~Maybe it's the blue (streaks in her) hair.~~

That impression is strengthened when he sees her outside in the rain earlier in the day. This little dancer seems so perfect for that "rain flames" idea he's been hounded by. He's already got Roy to promise to work on a blue fire for his performances, and wouldn't this "Luna" look amazing, twirling among blue flames?

At first, Squalo just watches her, one of Pride's in-bars located right next to the area the dance practices usually take place in. Intently, almost, as if he's planning to grab her and carry her off (been there, done that). He doesn't.

He will plonk his glass down and approach her once it seems they're done over there, though. "Are you free?" is his not-exactly-tactile question, voice rough and loud as usual.

Thankfully for all involved, he doesn't.

Lapis has noticed that he's been watching her, even though she's attempted not to show it. That stare makes her edgy somewhat; it's not unlike Jasper's stare, intent and almost . . . assured.

When he plonks his glass down, she hears it -- even above the noise of the rest of the room. And when he approaches, booming down at her . . .

Her eyes dart up, enormous, and for a bare moment, unfocused, just a little wild, as though she sees another face in place of his. She focuses only forcibly, demanding her mind and body respond to time and place, managing a short, tight jerk of a nod. There's still a bit of wildness in her eyes, a darkness in the depths like an animal not sure if she's being cornered.

"What . . . did you want?"

Ha. Did he intimidate her? Most people would probably take it as a cue to try a gentler approach. Squalo just smirks, though, as if pleased with the impression he's made.

"To hire you, of course," he explains with the briefest hint of amusement and sticks his thumbs into his pockets in a self-assured manner. "You really stand out in a crowd, you know."

She feels something inside of her narrow, tighten as she stares at this man. Jasper may have intimidated her -- and still does. Some part of her mind, even though she knows the impossibility, has never given up on the idea that the Gem will find her, confront her, make her pay dearly for what she's done. She's waiting for it. Always.

But something else is there too, curling just beneath the surface, waiting, almost eager for that moment when it goes too far.

Something with teeth.

She can't decide which frightens her more.

Another nod, short and tight, pushing back into focus. The comment about her appearance is disregarded. "For a show?"

Well, they do seem to have similar hair colour and, er, smile, so it's really not that surprising she's feeling uncomfortable. Squalo's unaware of it, though, so he just thinks he's dealing with some extra shy, moe person.

Wouldn't it be fun to get her to open up. (Her legs, if nothing else.)

"Obviously," he confirms and flashes his teeth at her. "Or are you saying there's more things you'd do for money?"

A++ lines there, chump.

Briefly her eyes widen, caught off guard.

"What . . . do you mean?"

That flash of teeth . . . it digs into her mind like a knife. There's interest there. And hunger.

The curling entity in her gut cackles a note of glee.

They're pretty big, sharp teeth, too. Nothing quite inhuman, but definitely rather prominent. And that grin's just outright predatory and not necessarily friendly, though it's not hostile either right now.

"Vooooi, you know." He's reaching toward her to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear with his thumb. "I could hire you for a private show."

Her eyes as he touches her are suddenly far too dark.

There's a minor explosion behind Squalo . . . the soda water bursts free of its valve as though pressure has been welling for far too long, barreling towards the back of his head with the force of a hurled rock.

Bad news: it hits and he just might end up accidentally headbutting her while recoiling from the force of the impact. He's also somehow not knocked out and just pissed off. He must have a hard head.

Good news: he absolutely doesn't connect it to the woman in front of him, and instead snaps around angrily, one hand rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head, eyes scanning the hallway. It's... empty?

"What the fuck?!" Ah. There's soda running out on the floor, but that's a bit too good of an aim to just be a coincidence. Someone must've tinkered with it and run off. He glances back at Lapis, this time without leering at least. "Did you see that?"

The other people at the bar are staring at him with a distinct look of "I didn't do it." The bartender is off a little ways down the bar, staring with an open mouth between Squalo and the now-limp hose. A couple of the remaining dancers are startled, but giggling -- the others have left.

The good news about when you're the one setting off an explosion of soda water is that you're anticipating it. So while Squalo recoils, Lapis has stepped out of the way.

And while he's been distracted, she slips away after the rest of her group. He might catch the flutter of her skirts around the corner as she twists around it. Following her would be ill-advised.

Not to mention that if he does move to follow her, the soda water now dripping off him and onto the floor will be sure to be under his feet, making the smooth surface hazardously slippery.

He'd probably be madder than he already is if he realized this is rejection. As is, though, he just thinks that gentle doe-like soul must've been frightened by whatever the fuck was going on. So he'll just yell something along the lines of "Talk to you later, then?" and stomp for whoever looks the most amused. They're probably getting punched and growled at, but hopefully no medical aid will be needed for anyone.

He's definitely going to remember her now, though. Hope she doesn't think she'll get rid of him that easily, because when he wants something, he gets it, damn it. Well, that and he probably feels the need to explain that he had nothing to do with lamely getting brained by some valve and he's really much more awesome than it might've looked right there. You know, the usual.

Time goes quicker between the two of us

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