Interaction(s): Cleo Boyd @spicykvnt, and Immanuel Blaylock @FestivePreviously: Don’t Stare Into the Sun
Rolled out red carpet faced like the true gauntlet it was—or wasn’t—via the simple expedience of not walking on it, Lucas led his friends past the first hurdle of an entryway crowded with excitement and nerves and hearts beating fast for so many reasons, whispers and whistles and the subtler sigh of cloth brushing cloth of their arms linked together, only to fall into the mirrored world of glass and doors, swaying with each weight swinging on its hinges, smiles and lights strobing together, too distracted by celebration to brace himself with any certainty of which way he was walking until the one gentleman in their little group held the side door open and steady and Cleo dragged him through.
Then, he followed dazedly behind. Thoughts all puzzle-pieced together and sliding past each point like the well-made machine he was standing in, on, under… Only vaguely keeping track of the rolling, repetitive motion on two wrists nearby as he took in the view. The change was tangible.The atmosphere drawing in each caught breath from the door to the dance floor. He wasn’t the only one appreciating the work put into making this night special. The music was cacophony, too many songs settled into the bones of the building to figure out which one was playing until he caught the same one from the silk and satin (and wool and velvet and lace and crepe) nearby. A muffled round between ears and fabric.
But the lights were dim, almost gentle compared to the black walls and their red drapes, practically glowing… Dance floor front and center, with twin staircases accentuating the mezzanine backdrop, the seating areas caught his eye for a moment, with the fountains of feathers on every table like sprays of light, but he didn’t have time to wonder where they might sit themselves or what food was on offer, having stalled entirely with his eyes on a large black box blending into the wall with a curtain of its own strung across a door and a very big sign with one very big word above it.
Photos.
Lips moving as he mouthed that word to himself, brain suddenly buzzing with one very clear thought, he turned back to Immanuel and Cleo with a grin and a squeak as he caught the words before they tumbled out too loud, one hand covering his mouth and the other pointing at the photo booth. They had to. If they’d come to the dance, they needed a record. He needed it. He wanted it, too. Clasping his hands together as pleadingly as he could.
Lucas’s excitement hit her immediately in the chest. It was pop rocks in your mouth, and the pool of squeezed lime that sits on top of the guacamole for the brightest bite of the dip. Cleo’s eyes widened with it, and she bit down on her lip as the music wrapped itself around her, a trance beat with happiness folded into every chord and note. The rhythm had her swaying immediately in time, her hips, shoulders and head moving as she smiled. It was still easy to note that she was keeping it contained, but that it wouldn’t take too much more to set her whirling into the centre of the room. “Another photo for the wall, aye?” she asked with her usual dreamy smile - eyes torn between looking at the booth itself, and at people arriving in their formal attire.
”Eyes on the prize, all right, yeah. It’s picture perfect, okay?”
Cleo twirled again, before drawing a finger to her lips, her attention dancing between Lucas and Manny. “Ye know, the queue’s a wee bit long. What say I go get the drinks for our table, hmm? By’t time I’m back, it’ll be our go.” She was already shimmying away. “Two shakes of a lamb’s tail, I promise.” She began in the direction of the bar, shoulders swaying, almost as if the music had a hold of her. She heard it, felt it, and had to move with it.
Through the tumultuous force of noises that pervaded every single facet of his ears, Immanuel caught the rising squeak of Lucas’ voice, a sharp piercing noise that stabbed his temporal lobe over the drowning music that he oh so tried to shut out and kill within his mind. His eardrums through background chatter picked up the sound wave vibrations of hearts picking up in rate with the advent of Lucas’s idea. Immanuel could not deny the infectiousness of the excitement in which his teammates held, if only he could hold a single coherent string of thought beneath the blanket of hell's greatest disturbance that marched upon his ears as if it was the day of reckoning and his mind stood as ground zero. He couldn’t much hear the utterances that spouted from the mouths of neither Cleo nor Lucas, as much his concentration stood stalwart even there were limits to what the man could do, while yes he could lower it all down a level manageable by his mind in this state, he could not overextend his focus to clearly pick up the words that were spoken into the air. His ears sat like an old radio whose antenna finagled in a manner perfectly to receive the signal of a station one desperately yearned to embrace within their ears but was curbed by static that could not be fixed without losing the connection to the channel. He could pick out bits and words here and there but in the overarching experience that was it; all static.
From his lips, Immanuel read what Lucas was saying. Photos? God, Immanuel could feel the growing migraine on the horizon threatening to run rampant behind his eyes, and those flashing light he caught out of the corner of his periphery wasn’t going to solve but any of the problems he held in this moment, but fuck it, he had to make sure this night was great. No. The best. And he wasn’t going to call it off after only a few minutes into the party simply because of the threat of a little bit of pain. ”Gotta make this shit last, right!?” Immanuel placed his hand upon the shoulder of Lucas giving both of the two a head shake in agreement as his eyes floated between them. ”That sounds good to me Cleo, make sure to get me the strongest thing they got over there would’ya?” The smile he wore upon his face stood bright even through the noise, while his tone was low he hoped Cleo could tell what he had said, while as a scream screeched straight into his ear drum to himself he knew to others that most times it sounded slightly above a whisper. And that drink? God knew he would need it.
Glancing over at the hand on his shoulder, Lucas gave his friend a small, crooked smile before trying to answer a question, if not the question. ”What? Strongest shit they got, yeah… no… uhhh… I like the bubbles?” He ended on a confusedly hopeful note and a shrug, leaving the choice up to Cleo since she knew what he liked anyway.
”We’ll go hold the line for ya.” Immanuel uttered, his tone increased slightly to make sure Cleo heard his voice clearly this time but at the cost wince as he turned back to face the line. It was long, that was certain, packed with the many chattering voices in uncertain to even sultry tones and the bumping hearts of those alongside their dates. As the two took their spots upon the tail end of the line, Immanuel looked to his side over at his friend. Immanuel’s hands moved like second nature from his side to his ears coming outward in a motion that then transitioned to a sign performed at his chest. Too much noise. After the brief pause he continued, his hands moving in a pattern, flowing the sentence through the signs he presented with his hands like an artist making a brush stroke across an easel. Still trying to get my bearings, this is a lot.
Lucas was already eyeing Immanuel sideways when his friend started signing and guiltily jerked his head just enough to continue eyeing him more directly while still being able to see the photo booth, though he was no less worried in his excitement by the careful way he was standing. And his attention quickly shifted more firmly to his friend’s face and, more particularly, his hands. Hands in motion had easily begun catching his attention when voices lost themselves between the walls in his head, gestures and charades and all the little details of the thoughts behind the faces that frowned or smiled or stared before moving lips loosed echoes and tangents like torrents dragged him far from easy conversation. But learning the words they could shape beside the rise of an eyebrow or the purse of lips had become a lifeline in and of itself when he’d first arrived and found himself thrust back into the world of the present and stuck with strangers he’d never met both in and out of the walls. He’d gotten better at standing against the current since then, but now he knew ASL, too, and he still liked watching hands.
When Manny had finished, he stretched his arms wide as he nodded his agreement and grimaced through his own quick apology, signing back in sudden bursts and hanging stillness while he found his thoughts, a staccato rhythm at odds with his usual continuous rush or slow deliberation. A loooot, yes…. Sorry, I made it louder… Want to turn off your ears?
He pointed at the pocket which he knew without looking housed the limiter Immanuel carried on him, eyebrows raised. Can you even hear the music? Everyone on the team had learned at least a little ASL over the years, and Lucas thought perhaps a little too highly of Immanuel’s lip reading skills, so it wouldn’t hinder their conversation much if he did. Besides, if he couldn’t hear the music, then why bother giving himself a headache?
Most of what I am hearing is the music. Immanuel’s hands continued flowing before him with the same efficiency as before, a steady stream of symbols likely not understood by those surrounding the pair was exchanged in this stuffy air they stood within.
Noise isn’t music. But music was noise if it filled in all the empty spaces in your head you wanted to keep empty. Lucas frowned as he pointedly expressed his opinion. Of course, he couldn’t know what his friend was hearing, maybe all it was was loud, but loud hurt, too. And Manny didn’t look like he was enjoying any of it. He didn’t have to enjoy it, really, but he didn’t have to endure just so he and Cleo could.
I… His hands paused, his mind racking behind the cacophony that pervaded his ears to find the words to sign in a sea of words from others he could not quite decipher, a billion of voices all spoke at once yet he could not find his within this moment. It’s… more complicated. Last resort. I’ll be alright, you don’t have to worry. His smile stood unwavering to Lucas in the face of all in which dared utter a sound in the air, into his ears. In a swift motion, he patted the side of the pocket within which the tool sat, the was no motive behind the action, more a cruel reminder of a piece of technology that bound him at some points, a piece that he attempted to wane away from but was sucked back into its grasp like a toxic lover’s calling under the cover of the night.
...Ok.
As the line they stood within became shorter the two shuffled into the new position they now occupied, looking down the row of bodies that stood packed together as if they were bound to each other’s side he could not tell how much longer it would take to get to the front. Do you think the others even remember what today is? I know some had it marked on their calendar for quite a bit, but, do you think they remembered? At least we don’t have to deal with Whitney’s drunk bullshit… Once again his eyes could no longer stay still, as his hands signed the last symbol to Lucas his eyes tracked those beyond the line. He watched as all types of people engaged in the debauchery of the night. A night of but pleasure incarnate and what his eyes could not lay witness to his ears did, it was one to be remembered in the minds of all those who attended if not with the slight tint of somber his own mind would hold to the night. In a way though, sometimes I miss it.
Grinning maybe a little too widely as he settled a hand on Immanuel’s shoulder and patted it slowly, feeling warm fingers tweaking the fabric flat and squeezing beneath his own, a breathy, wordless satisfaction voiced somewhere in the back of a throat, Lucas leaned back and raised his eyebrows. You? You miss Whitney? She’d been loud and proud and fun. There was a lot of presence to miss. His grin faded into a crooked corner of his lips as he nodded, subdued. Me too… Her absence was more noticeable now, in the rush of new and old where he had to go digging to hear her laughingly ask if he’d ever wear a kilt the traditional way. They were all farther away here. Long gone…
Ok, wait. I can’t circle back to… circle circle circle circle circle circle back to remember what ... today is—ok! Lucas left his finger circling absently as he worked back through his own memories to the actual question and could only shrug rather helplessly once he had. No regrets if they forget… Well… Fewer regrets, anyway, probably. Steve and… Darla, no? She has her family for bigger worries. And Steve hadn’t seemed to care one way or the other about the dance. Though whether he’d remember or forget the date… he didn’t know.
I wouldn’t put too much faith in Steve, I love him but I don’t think he put too much thought into what day of the week it was most times… A weary smile cast across his face as the line picked up, in almost a blink the two stood firmly near the front of the colossal line in which they had first entered. Immanuel turned his head away from the flashing lights to his side lest he make his migraine feel any worse than it had. Almost our turn.
Perhaps it was closer to four shakes, but Cleo returned, a crease over her brows as she'd waded through the filling room, inadvertently brushing shoulders with partygoers, picking up their vibes as she did. In the thick of it, there was a sunny radiance, but partway back, a seed of rage planted into her as she watched a boy tear past, after the sound of physical confrontation. Rage and embarrassment, transferred and left sitting in her. A shallow red pool, rippling across the surface. “This is what I didnae want…” she muttered to herself, a “tsk” sound after she placed the drinks down. She had to get back to Manny and Lucas.
She made a beeline toward them, shimmying their way as they crossed to the front of the line at last - she was right on time. The silence between them meant they were speaking without words, and Cleo, in her own way, did the same. She took in a deep, grounding breath as she reappeared at their side; the feelings between them were nostalgic, slightly humoured, and there was a softness to the energy. Despite the blaring music and heat of emotions… Between Manny and Lucas, she felt a calm, warm morning with something sweet and light in hand. A dazzling teal colour. “Yeaaah…” she sighed out dreamily. “Steve would have loved this.”
”That man loved just everything.” The words uttered out of Immanuel's mouth as he made space for Cleo among the sea of people, his hands down away from his chest to curb the almost unconscious nature to sign the words he spoke forth. ”Now, where's that drink?” His hands slither over to Cleo's, bringing the glass into his own grasp and taking a sip of whatever the concoction was.
“Cle—oh…” Lucas started with a grinning glance her way as he heard them all in the quiet of her dress only a half hour earlier, before he remembered himself and let his greeting peter out to a calmer quiet, though his smile didn’t fade half as quickly. He nodded instead, satisfied to see her coming back right on time when Manny’s observation had started him worrying. Almost their turn didn’t sit well when he couldn’t see far in the low light and the crowd. Wasn’t used to looking for Cleo in cream, either. Maybe he’d missed her… But she was here now and he slung an arm around her shoulders with glad enthusiasm while giving Manny the next best one-armed hug he could manage, steering them both towards the booth as almost became their turn. “All right, okay, smile for the camera isn’t everything. Let’s put on a show for Steve’d love this smiles and funny faces, okay? Say cheese!”
”I don’t think I have any other kind of face.” Cleo said with a slight laugh, ducking first into the booth, remnants of secret attraction lingering in the small space like a perfume. Whoever the last two people were, one of them had feelings that the other did not. She almost frowned in response to it, until she saw the countdown timer on the screen practically playing them off before they had all squeezed in. Her first face, she decided with the urgency of the countdown, was going to be “chipmunk”.
Immanuel followed in turn after her, his hands clutched tightly around the glass in his hand. ”I'm as ready as I'll ever be!” A smile formed across his face as he settled into the booth. Maybe one of them should make a photo book one day.
It was a tight, harried squeeze of elbows and knees and fitting in together trying not to jostle. He’d said funny faces but all he managed was smiling so wide his face hurt as he caught sight of Cleo’s puffed up cheeks and tried to give Manny bunny ears just before the first flash. The world was bright and loud and blinding even in a little box, but surrounded by giggles and laughs and the warmth of two friends still around, Lucas didn’t care.
And at last, Team Eclipse had reached its totality, the last petering moment of their time in the sky.
cottonferret
Qia
spicykvnt
Festive
Rockette
Skai
Snowdrops
Cleveraptor
ButtsnBalls
Dion
