dance dance, we're falling apart to half time

[anatural]

When; Friday, January 18th, evening
Rating; PG
Characters; Korra and her friends and anyone who happens to be in the club. Come one, come all!
Summary; Korra decides to celebrate 6 months in the City by dancing.
Log;She'd been woken up that morning by a incessant beeping noise; it took her a full three minutes to figure out it was her device and how to turn it off (she almost breaks it in her frustration, but she doubts she'd get any sympathy from Chekov if she broke yet another piece of electronic equipment).

What was so important that her device felt compelled to disturb her slumber?

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR SIX MONTH ANNIVERSARY!

Who sent it? How did they know? Korra doesn't bother wondering. Six months… At first the thought horrifies her…but it hasn't been all bad. She fingers the necklace that Chekov had given her.

She can either spend the day distracted and wallowing, or she can remind herself of the good things she has here.

She decides to go dancing.


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It's clear no one ever taught her how to get dressed for clubbing; she's just wearing her "I Mustache You A Question" t-shirt and Chekov's necklace, a strange combination of casual and fancy. Somehow she makes it work. And it's a bit early in the night for the club to really be rocking, but that doesn't slow Korra down any. She's in the middle of the dance floor, being taught some new moves by the club's regulars and just in general having a grand old time.

Come join her?

Comments

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei may be an amateur at experiencing or dispensing emotion. But he's learnt from relentlessly protecting Pai, learnt from Amber's astonishing sacrifice, that any affection that is conditional, that has stipulations and Buts -- isn't worth the effort. Leftovers of attention, demands to sit up and beg, to show your belly for approval, aren't genuine. They're a calculated conditioning. Like Pavlov's Dog. ]

[ He would know. He's used that tactic to control, to subdue and destroy, so many marks. ]

[ He follows Korra through the dancefloor -- sizzling temperatures, sizzling girls and sizzling beats. The bass vibrates like thunder. Strobes flickering like lightning. For a minute his senses are overwhelmed. Impossible to get focused. Just for a moment. The crowd is thick and the song is fast, not the sort that involves close contact. But he catches her hand, swinging her in anyway. Lets 'Li's stuttering awkwardness fade to something smoother, something fluid. Maintaining eye-contact, all the while, to keep a bead on her beaming face. ]

[ The whole scene feels a little juvenile. But he's learning it's fine to allow himself such moments. His mind may be full of shrapnel. But he can still enjoy the simple movements of a dance. ]

[anatural]

[Someday maybe she'll learn that. Someday, when she learns how to meditate, to let go. To just be.

You wouldn't think that's a problem she has, watching her dance. She's spinning and twirling, kicking up her heels, throwing up her hands, shaking her hips. There's no particular pattern to her movements, but somehow she makes it look natural and graceful rather than uncoordinated flailing. The music runs straight through her veins.

She keeps a tight grip on his hand all the while.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Controlled chaos. That's the best word for how she dances. He watches her, glowing with sweat, dark hair sweeping. Feels how her grip on his hand is so tight and her movements so dizzying that you can't stand still, can't think, can't survive unless you flow with her. An impartial observer would think she's on Ecstacy -- she seems so damn high. But he knows she's just immersed in the beat. Floating as if on ether, no anchors or weight. ]

[ Free. ]

[ He keeps his motions subtle, corresponding with her rhythm instead of the DJ's. The music is weird, iterations of piano and electronica melding with dissonant blasts of drums. But it seeps into him in a way that is familiar, enlivening. Little by little, he relaxes. Enjoying the anonymity. Enjoying the moment. ]

[ Lightly, his hand squeezes hers -- a moment of deep sensory déjà vu. ]

[anatural]

[Not high, but more than a little drunk — on the music, on adrenaline, on grief and gratitude and homesickness and guilt and more feelings than she even has words for. (The sip of that sugary monstrosity also helps. It doesn't take much to get her tipsy.)

She feels a thrill when he squeezes her hand, running up her arm and through her body. The little gesture earns him a bright smile.

The song winds down, transitioning to a slower song. Korra feels a prickle of irritation and disappointment. She doesn't want this dance to end. (A part of her is still looking for patterns of behavior, ways to predict when Li will change. Their last dance hadn't ended well.)]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He feels the tempo drop, the DJ switching to a slow-dance mix, lights flashing in corresponding bursts of color. He'd conceded to one song, and it's over now. Tempting as it is to escape back into the music, unmoored to anything but her hand in his, it's time for him to go. ]

[ But he doesn't make his withdrawal abrupt. His free hand eases around her waist. He draws her in, close enough to feel her warm breath on his coolish skin. He has to talk right into her ear to be heard. His lips brush the rim lightly; it can't rightly be called a kiss, but the touch is deliberate, to show that he means no cruel distancing. ]

I have to go. [ It's quiet, but not dismissive, in the way someone might say: I'll see you later. ] Have fun.

[ At least as much of it as can be managed in a place like this. The noise, the crowds, the headiness and hormones aren't his idea of relaxing. But most people would say assembling dirty-bombs or rigging a complex alarm system indoors aren't their ideas of fun either. ]

[anatural]

Okay. [There's a little disappointment in her voice, but really, she doesn't mind. She's not a clingy kind of person. Naga is her best friend in the entire world, and even they don't spend much time together. He came; he danced; and he's leaving without shutting himself off. That's enough to make her happy.]

Thanks for coming.

[She wraps her arms around his waist and gives him a quick hug before stepping back and letting him go.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He lets her step into his space for the hug. Squeezes back, a silent It's nothing. Slowly, he draws away, letting her melt into the full-blown pandemonium of the dancefloor. On exit, he spots the green-haired girl again. Seated at the bar, chin in hand over a too-sweet drink. This time she glances his way. Maintains eye-contact. Almost flirty. ]

[ For a moment -- just a moment -- Hei wonders if the bathrooms in the club are unisex. In the next beat, he shakes it off. Too many fucking ghosts. He glances back at the dancefloor, at Korra. Enjoys the whimsy of seeing her from a distance, absorbed and unaware. In that rare moment, dancing, she reminds him of no one he's known before, and he's glad for it. ]

[ Then he's outside the club, and the triggering noise -- inside, outside -- ceases. ]