Time goes quicker between the two of us

[oceantier]

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.

Comments

A.

[scalpedsociety]

Aramat finds that she likes the Blooming Lotus specifically because the place is worn in. She starting to prefer older places with more history. The penthouse is nice, but it slowly getting cramped. Everything looks too new.

This along with the mounting disturbing visions has made Miss Aramat go to Blooming Lotus to get everything done. Manicure, pedicure, soaking, scrubbing, a full-body massage... she may even have the hairstylists look at her bushy hair.

During one long soak in their fragrant tubs, she may notice Luna. "You know, I've never seen you before. Are you new here?"

[oceantier]

Lapis entered not long ago and is currently working at folding towels, placing them onto the warming racks. Normally she has the gift of silence -- the ability to be present without being noticed, her feet almost soundless on the tile as she moves. Most people want to be in their own worlds while at the spa, internally focused, and she tends to move between rooms like a shadow.

Every now and again, though, someone looks up and notices. Wide, dark eyes flick in Aramat's direction in surprise, her fingers stilling. "Excuse me?"

[scalpedsociety]

She moves in the water, filled with petals and oils with her bushy hair piled uo and leans at the edge.

"Did I bother you? I'm sorry if I did." Aramat was only curious about the new girl.

E.

[riveres]

Oscar's never claimed any connection with the brainwashed, Virgo or Pride. (Which in his opinion, is for the best.) He's here because he knows this is wrong.

"There needs to be a set of eyes in Virgo." He replies back at her, just as soft. Virgo artists don't tend to have backup dancers, but knowing Pride has them will make Virgo get some.

[oceantier]

She knows he's right in this, but that doesn't mean that she likes it. In truth, she doesn't even know him that well yet save what she's gleaned from a dream and an encounter on a ship, but. Somehow there's some sense of responsibility for him nonetheless -- or a sense of slight trust from him that makes her want to respond in turn.

She frowns faintly, thumbing the cotton jersey of her skirt, crossing her feet at the ankles and tucking them up underneath the chair. She's not relaxed; her back is rigid, erect. In her mind she knows that both Virgo and Pride are equally bad . . . but it's especially hard to forgive an organization that forced a boy from her own hands.

Her thoughts are a bit dark as she stares into the wood of the floor, and it shows on her face.

[riveres]

He barely knows a thing about her either. Other that she is one with the water and isn't human. Despite this, they are connected in an unspoken way not many would understand. The isolation, the emotions churning beneath calm depths, the feeling of being broken but still doing what must be done for the people that mean something to them. Both received these traits in different ways, but like knows like.

"Does this place... bother you?" Oscar asks.

F.

[tigermillionaire]

Lapis/Luna being one of the Pride backup dancers only really occurred to Steven after he'd been healed. It was how she'd been there at the concert, hadn't it? He doesn't know if she's still part of it, especially after what had happened between her and the guards...but after arriving back at Pride he knows he has to try.

He goes to the lower levels of the Pride HQ as soon as he's allowed, searching for the practice rooms. He's been there himself several times, for the obvious reasons. He doesn't know if she'll be there - it's a shot in the dark, to be sure. But it's better than just doing nothing.

Steven peeks into the room, his eyes scanning over the dancers. His face is done up in makeup, as has been his standard, and his hair is freshly done up. Right back to normal.

Whatever normal is, these days.

[oceantier]

It happens at that moment that there's a small commotion: One of the dancers accidentally loses her balance, sending her tumbling to the floor. It's not a good fall; the others cluster around her, their voices rising.

The noise is enough to cause Lapis' head to come up. Her eyes flick to the cluster of other dancers, taking in the source of the noise . . . then, when that seems well under control, flicker briefly over the rest of the room.

. . . And land on Steven.

The change in her face is immediate, her eyes sweeping wide. She hesitates, staring back at him for only the briefest of instants . . . and then with a last glance to make sure the others are all too busy to pay attention, is on her feet, trotting for him and the door.

"Steven . . ." The word is a breath as soon as she's in the hall.

[tigermillionaire]

There's a moment where they both just look at each other, until, without a word, Steven steps forward and gives her a hug. It feels like it's for him as much as it is for her.

The cracks and signs of damage are completely gone. His eyes are clear and bright...and worried. More importantly, somehow he is back at Pride. A lot has happened very quickly.

"Hi Lapis," he says, softly.

C.

[panspermia]

"I guess you don't worry about catching colds?"

Who's this nerd in a big purple raincoat? With how hard the rain is coming down, his face and hair are still getting spattered with water, but that's nothing compared to "Luna" hanging out in the middle of the downpour. Greg considers it's strange how they keep meeting in such a big city, but... he doesn't mind.

[oceantier]

The voice is familiar, even if Greg's appearance is definitely muffled by that enormous purple raincoat. As a result (and with the pleasing effect of the rain), he doesn't get the startled deer in headlights look, her eyes only shifting to him, opening in full with an almost dreamy expression. "No." Save for the effect of cracks, illness isn't a huge concern for gems.

"It's water," she adds, as though that explains it -- and as though wondering why it would even worry him.

B

[sharktrash]

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.

[oceantier]

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?"

A

[determinate]

Frisk is ten; they have no particular desire to go to the spa. But they know Lapis works here sometimes, so they walk in as if they have absolutely no idea of their incongruity.

The receptionist seems uncertain about letting a silent child walk back into the spa area. But, seeing Lapis in one of her human guises, they stand on their tiptoes and wave at her over the counter. Is she busy?

[oceantier]

She can't blame the receptionist there; a child coming into the spa, especially without a parent, seems to tend to cause rapid blinking. Humans tend to find that strange.

Lapis was just walking past with a load of towels when the wave catches her eye, and she pauses -- surprised but brightening slightly at the sight of Frisk. She doesn't get a chance to respond, though, before the receptionist follows Frisk's sight line to its source, features clearly exasperated. "Luna? You know him?" (She hesitates a little on the "him," clearly not quite sure and wondering if she's made a mistake.)

A nod, and Lapis slides her towel load onto a nearby counter. No point in affirming or correcting the woman; it doesn't need to be her business. "I'll just be a moment." Softer to Frisk, that faint warmth returning to her features: "Hello."

With a small, subtle beckoning motion down near her side, she encourages them to follow her towards a side room -- a place where normally clients come to wait for the hairdresser to be free, amply decorated and comfortable. They both can speak more freely there.

B

[sailorlaughter]

Pinkie's not really interested in hiring any dancers. As a matter of fact, she's really interested in not doing any concerts for the next year.

But if she and Steven are gonna work on an album instead, it probably wouldn't kill them to maybe make a music video sometime. Plus, he'd said something about being friends with one of the dancers. The pink-haired musician lingers around the back of the room during dance practice, hood pulled up over her head, and waits until most of the others have wandered off somewhere before going to approach Luna.

"Hi! You're Luna, right?" She smiles. "I'm Pinkie, from System Crash!"

[oceantier]

Lapis had been gathering her things -- though admittedly there's not much to gather -- when Pinkie approaches, and blinks up at the voice and the query. "System Crash" definitely catches her attention; that's Steven's band, so this must be . . . one of the others?

. . .

Admittedly she hasn't thought much of the others before. She's known they exist, of course; all the acts here have multiple members. It's more that her focus has been so much on Steven that the others have blended more into shadow, left unconsidered next to her primary objective.

It's a lot harder, though, to be unaware of a person living and breathing in front of you.

"Hello," she offers back softly. "Luna -- yes." She manages to catch herself before she says the wrong name: "Tiger's band?"

A

[sailorgenerous]

The Blooming Lotus isn't quite up to Rarity's usual five-star standards, but she needs a new place to frequent now that the paparazzi has discovered her old one, and who will look for her anywhere that isn't the absolute best of the best? She'll settle for worn around the edges if it means she can maintain her privacy.

She's standing at the counter, waiting patiently. "Good morning. Do you take walk-ins?"

[oceantier]

Lapis is near the counter that particular day. It's not her favorite place, admittedly; customer service isn't her forte. She can give what's required, certainly, but the smiley, happy bubbliness that a couple of her co-workers can produce . . . it's not her.

The rule is, though, that if the counter has no one available and a guest comes in, the nearest worker takes it. While they have a receptionist, everyone has been trained at the counter just for this purpose.

So as she catches sight of Rarity at the front counter, she puts aside the essential oils she was replenishing, stepping towards her. Her features are composed, quiet.

"We do." She tugs the book towards her; the owner is old-fashioned and prefers things done by hand. The script comes to her mind, memorized: "Welcome to the Blooming Lotus. What services might you be seeking today?"

C.

[lightthedarkness]

She actually loved the rain, not quite as much as she loved the room, but it reminded her of Ami and Michiru, it reminded her of cleanliness and a fresh start of sorts. She had her umbrella on her, a little thing that only allowed room for one. But she saw Lapis, recognizing the other rescuer but knowing they had ever properly introduced themselves to one another. She came over to her and was hesitant to interrupt... she knew she was fine, honestly, but she thought she would offer all the same.

"Are you alright?"

[oceantier]

The rain was beautiful. In the city itself, most things felt worn. Dirty. Too dressed up in neon and sparkles in a ploy to ignore what lay beneath.

The rain trickled through the dirt, made sparkles of its own, beading and streaming crystalline threads, washing through the dirt. The smells of the city were unfortunately more alive, but the rain itself made its own smell -- clean and cutting through all the rest. The water soaked Lapis . . . but she couldn't have been happier with it.

"I'm fine." For once her reply to someone coming up to her wasn't a startled one; she almost -- almost -- smiled. "It's water."

C.

[4thdimensional]

Now that's an unusual sight. Fortunately it's not too chilly of a day, but it's rare to see someone not scrambling for cover. Doc certainly tried---though it's ended in him with an awkwardly grasped newspaper over his head. So much for browsing those tabloids for answers.

He approaches with a question in his eyes. "You've been holed up for a while?"

[oceantier]

Little does he know what an apt question he's hit. Lapis has to pause for a moment, caught off guard by it.

". . . Yes." In the end, there's no point in lying. "For . . . some time."

Her eyes skim him, up to the cover on his head. It's . . . drooping at the edges. It's only paper, after all. If he's not careful, he'll probably end up with a damp, drooping hat.

The image makes her smile a little -- not that she's glad for him to end up that way, but because the image itself is funny.

D

[lateforkindergarten]

The roar of an engine approaches the bus stop but brakes at the end of the block instead. If Lapis looks down to sidewalk she'll see that it's the garbage truck. The truck starts beeping obnoxiously as the driver lines it up to lift a dumpster. Meanwhile, the other garbage man hops off the back of the truck and heads over to the bus stop to fetch the contents of the garbage bins there.

Said garbage man is Amethyst but at the moment she looks like a large middle age man in a jumpsuit and hat. His bright white hair might make "him" stick out at a glance but otherwise she opted for as normal as possible and made "him" any color but purple.

"Hey," the garbage man greets Lapis as he pulls the lid off the trash bin. His voice is higher than one would expect. "You're the first person I've seen out here. Late night on the beach?"

[oceantier]

That's quite the hair, but it doesn't strike her as too strange, given the city . . . not yet.

Of all things Lapis expected this morning, a conversation with a garbage man was admittedly not one of them. She'd lifted her head at both the sound of the truck and its beeping, keeping a side-eye on the movement. Actually being noticed and addressed, though -- that's something else. It draws her attention into its standard uncertainty.

Her arms creep up into their usual cross, hands braced against her elbows. "I live . . . not far from here."

There are houses not so far away, though there's another bus stop there that's technically nearer. Note that her answer isn't direct. (Though it's true; for the most part she lives on the beach, hidden among the rocks or in the water itself.)

For Amethyst's turn, if she looks closely enough, she may find strong traces of Lapis. The young woman waiting for the bus is Asian -- more accurately, Vietnamese, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and deeper-skinned, with minor alterations to her features that are more in line with her apparent heritage. Beyond that, though, she'll find strong lingerings of Lapis -- in the slight, slim build, in the way she moves and holds herself, in her core features -- and down to the blue streaks, almost electric, against the background of her dark hair, its style otherwise untouched. It's buried . . . but it's there.