tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; December 31st, Early evening.

Rating; PG-PG-13 for clubbing?

Characters; Fakir (

princess_crow), and anyone who's enjoying New Year's Eve at the club and wishes to join in~ :D

Summary; What's New Year's Eve without a party...And drinking, dancing, and all that fun stuff? Boring, that's what.

Log;

Long after the first drink had multiplied into many, Fakir couldn't remember what he was doing at Club Automatica - more specifically, why he'd even come. However, the funny thing was - he found that he didn't care. That stuff was unimportant now. He didn't feel angry anymore. What was it he had even been angry and upset about in the first place? The ex-knight shrugged his thoughts away. That didn't matter, either.

His normally-perfect and straight posture had fallen to a definite slouch as he sat on the bar stool, watching the various singles and couples out on the floor dancing and intermingling. Fakir mindlessly took another sip of his drink -- what was it again? Vodka mixed with something? He couldn't remember that, either.

'That's not dancing,' he thought, a thin frown working its way over his lazy expression as he scrutinized the fuzzy images mixing in the light. 'That's a mess. They're not even feelin' the music!' He had the right to criticize, didn't he? Afterall, he and Rue, and Mytho, too, had been among the top dancers back at the Academy.

The frown quickly faded into a easy smile - something he still wasn't too familiar with, but no longer minded as much as he used to. Drinks really did work miracles for him, afterall.

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Lyra was standing, looking oddly out of place in an old fashioned-by-city-standards dress, Pantalaimon curled around her neck.

She sighed when she saw Fakir, and sat next to him.

"You ought to stop that," she told him, "You're going to get sick." Lyra's sole experiment with alcohol- an afternoon spent sipping a bottle of wine from the college's wine cellar, had ended up with both her and her companion, a boy named Roger, vomiting copiously. She didn't want to repeat the experience. She didn't want Fakir to experience it at all.

It took Fakir a moment to realize there was a blonde girl sitting next to him, and he nearly fell off his stool in surprise when she spoke, startling out of his dance floor contemplation immediately.

"Lyra!" he exclaimed, then glanced curiously at the half-empty container in his hand. "I don't think I had that much." How many did he have so far? He wasn't really sure. But it didn't seem like much. And the more he had, the more those irksome feelings - the ones tugging just on the very corner of his hazy mind - faded into nothing. "I don't think I'll ever be as sick as the time tha' curse hit and made me feel like I was pregnant. I swear, that was the most wretched horde of sickness I've ever had to experience." Fakir blinked twice, raising an eyebrow at the girl. "I'm not sure you were even here when that curse happen'd, were you?"

Lyra blinked.

"Pregnant? No, I don't think I was here. I remember hearing people talk about it though," she added, trying to nudge the glass out of his reach without attracting attention.

"This stuff'll make you just as sick though. Why don't you have something without alcholol?" She asked as the barman handed her a can of cola. Now how did Will open this again?

"It might be worth it even if I do get sick," he half-muttered to himself and sighed aloud. Seeing her hesitation with the soda can, Fakir absently picked it from her hands, popped the can open and handed it back to her. "Though I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have something else. But before that..." Turning toward the young blonde, Fakir gestured out to the open floor. "Have you done any dancing before, Lyra?"

For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he wanted to dance. He'd long since given that up to take up writing, instead. But...those people out there were making a mockery of the art. He couldn't just stand by and watch that, could he? Maybe he could have - before he had been drinking, but not now.

[ ooc: I have no idea how order is going to work for this o_o; I've only been involved in one other active tampered thread, and it didn't last long. Sooo...I'm a little lost as to how this works. XD; ]

Lyra stared, Pantalaimon turning his unblinking stare on Fakir as well.

"Umm... not really. Sanji showed me how to at Glinda's party," Lyra didn't mention how many times she'd stepped on the chef's feet. She stared out at the dance floor. Was that Mr. Mulder?

"Why're you asking?" She blushed.

"Well, wouldn' this be a good opportunity to learn a little more, then?" he offered in reply, holding a hand out to her as he let himself down off the stool. "I'm a patient teacher."

Okay, so that was a complete lie. How many times had he berated various partners, especially Ahiru, for doing anything wrong or out of step? But for some reason that didn't make a difference right now. He just wanted to dance. Perfection didn't matter. And it'd be more fun to dance with Lyra than to dance alone.

Lyra took a chug of her cola before sliding off the stool.

"Why not?" At least he wouldn't be drinking anymore. And learning new things was always good. Indeed, why the hell not? was the thought that passed between her and Pantalaimon as she took his hand.

He smiled brightly in return - too brightly for him, really - and pulled her out into the throng of dancers. Already he could feel a slight spring in his steps, the memory of motion coming back to him more clearly with each fluid step he took.

Wait, was that Mulder over there dancing like he didn't have a care in the world? Fakir raised one dark eyebrow and then glanced away, expression slightly perplexed. Perhaps he was seeing things?

Once reaching an area on the floor that wasn't overblown by other dancers, the ex-knight halted and turned toward his partner. "Perhaps we might both learn a little from this," he amended his earlier suggestion. "This music is a little bit more upbeat than what I was used to, but I think we can adapt." And without waiting for a reply from her, Fakir gripped Lyra's hand firmly and experimentally swung the young girl out to the left and pulled her back again. "Too fast for you?"

He never had liked those slow ballads much, anyway. The girls in the advanced dance class always loved them, but he preferred something that required more strength and speed. And the music the DJ was playing was closer to his style.

"Nah," Lyra shrugged, and let Fakir take the lead. Wasn't that how it was supposed to go?

The steps, the music, all of this was unfamiliar, and she was sure that the drink was making Fakir act a bit strange, but despite all that, she was having fun.

He smiled a little wider at that. The other female dancers he'd partnered with in the past were always worried about things being too fast or about him not being gentle enough. And he liked leading. That was no secret - being in control gave him confidence. Even a small sense of arrogance, at times.

"Don't mind heights either, do you?" he questioned lightly, leading her through another rapid sequences of steps that ended in a twirl. He could tell by her rather unsure stepping pattern that she wasn't accustomed to this at all. He wouldn't push it too much.

"Not really," Lyra had a vague idea of what he had in mind. Well this was going to be fun- and maybe she could forget all of her concerns about the city, the countdown, and that stupid cult.

"You'd better not drop me," Even though she hadn't had anything to drink, she still felt lightheaded and dizzy. Well, at least she hadn't stepped on his feet yet.

"I won't," he assured her quickly, beginning a new rapid series of movements that would ultimately lead to the lifts.

He'd only dropped one dancer before, and that had been on purpose.

...Why was he remembering that now, of all times? It's not like he took pride in being an asshole anymore. Maybe he'd need another drink later, to ward off more unpleasant thoughts.

When the music hit a particular high point, he secured an arm around her waist lifted her off the dance floor, fully rotating three times before touching down and repeating the same sequence with quick, fluid motions. She was catching on to this pretty fast and he was a little impressed. "Not bad," he praised. "I'm surprised you haven' danced much before."

Lyra grinned. She was catching on to the movements quickly, and it was exciting to move like this.

"Never had much opportunity," she shrugged, allowing him to lead her steps.

"This is fun, you know!"

"It is!" he agreed cheerfully, adrenaline rushing with the speed of the dance.

Fakir was a little light-headed and colors were blurring through his vision as they spun, but all that mattered right now was having fun. He was laughing. And it felt so good.

"Hold on!" he warned with a grin, swinging the blonde down to a dip and back up into the air in two swift motions. She was really keeping perfect pace with him and it was great!

Agent Mulder, of all people, was out on the dance floor, shakin' his stuff to the music being piped in by the DJ.

He wasn't as drunk as he'd been earlier; although it would turn that the big midnight event the gods had planned was nothing terminal, he had wanted to make sure he was ready should something bad happen.

Ever still the vigilant FBI guy.
But for now it was time to cut loose and dance a little.

Rue stopped just in front of the Club Automatica, studying disdainfully the “happy” crowd gathered to drink themselves to oblivion. She sniffed and arranged her uniform before she ventured inside the modern-fashioned tavern.

People were acting like hordes of graceless animals. Hysterical, violent and hollowly giddy that day. She figured out it was her duty as Princess to set up an example of dignified resolution. Her Prince would approve her behavior.

As closer Rue got into the dance floor, the music play to get louder and louder. It bounced the walls, into her ears and body. She would have felt a extraordinary urge to dance if wasn’t for the broken melodies and utterly dreadful rhythms that posed. That wasn’t music! It wasn’t like the classical notes she had memorized.

It was for the best Ahiru didn’t come with me, she thought as she stood on a side of the dance floor, attempting in vain to search Fakir in the mob of people who could not dance to save their lives. At least the knight was sober enough to realize the obvious.

Having long-since finished dancing with Lyra, the ex-knight was bored. And without anything to do, getting another drink had sounded like a good idea (after finishing the other one of off first, anyway).

His slightly-hazed gaze traveled out to the dance floor again, watching the horde of people who were still dancing like monkeys. 'Hmph. Didn' bother to learn a single thing from what I demonstrated. Figures.'

Green eyes then caught sight of a familiar figure, looking severely out of place, standing on the sidelines and he blinked. From where he was sitting, he couldn't tell if it was really Rue or not - wouldn't there be a bouncing girl with red hair at her side? But with his curiosity already peaked, Fakir set his empty glass down on the bar table and approached the brunette, his usually careful and definite steps having changed more to a woozy stride.

"Rue? Is'zat you?" he questioned upon reaching her location.

When Rue saw Fakir, a smirk cracked on her lips. To see the usually surly boy so cheerful made her want to burst out laughing but could not. She had to set an example here as there was no one else with a sense of responsibility!

She crossed her arms and scoffed at his greeting.

“Of course it’s me!” she replied, half opening her eyes to show disdain. “If you could see straight or walk with balance you’ll probably recognize me, Fakir.” She turned and looked over her shoulder. “I came to take you back to the Opera House. Ahiru must be worried. Bid goodbye to your friends and let’s move.”

So it was Rue! ...Well, at least she said she was, so it had to be her...right? He shrugged inwardly. What did it matter anyway?

"I reco'nize you," he countered. "It was just a little hard to see with all the way across the room...an' the lights were brigh'."

When she suggested leaving the club, his eyes widened in an almost horrified state. "No, we can' leave yet! You jus' got here! And Ahiu-Ahru-Ahiru will be jus' fine...Hey! You didn't bring her with like you said you would!"

"You didn't return home as you said you would either!" Rue accused, turning around irritated by his sudden fear. This is ridiculous. He can't be that drunk.

She offered her hand, "You could dance with Ahiru home. The lights are less bright and you won't have to deal with these untalented people."

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Log; Ongoing

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