8466/One More Dance

One More Dance
Date of Scene:	29 October 2021
Location:	Last Exit
Synopsis:	Terry's a fabulous dancer, don'tcha know.
Cast of Characters:	Meggan Puceanu, Terry O'Neil

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Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan is, believe it or not, a student. As a student, putting her attention into her university career and also tearing Roxxon's stock down by 28 points after a rather sharp and witty set of Twitter blasts about their drilling projects in sensitive Indonesian rainforests or totally backstabbing Indigineous rights protests in Ecuador means being busy.

But she has to surface for air sometime, as if living at 10,000 mph is part and parcel of outrunning the past. Keep maneuvering to meet the future means not having time to worry too much, or live outside the moment.

But even then a girl needs to have fun and reconnect with friends.

A text into the void, a chance delivery of a pizza to a certain Big T Tower, are her ways of saying "Hi!" to a friend that is long overdue. Arrangements to dance -- and gods, how she loves it! -- are woven into the aether, a destination thrown down. Meeting someone at a nonexistent train station IS pretty creepy.

Unless she's a glitter bomb with her hair threaded by tinsel and a sparkly, cropped hoodie and sparkly pants fit to make her a missing star. Oh Vorpal, where art thou?

Terry O'Neil has posed:
It has been a long time since Terry has been out dancing. The life of a Titan is filled with all sorts of derailments, but nightclubs are seldom in the docket. When they are, though, it usually means chasing someone through them, or fighting a poltergeist made up of musical instruments.

He responds to the invitation at once, and carefully prepares his wardrobe for a night out on the town. When the rabbit hole opens up and deposits him at the rendez-vous, it is clear that he has decided to go for the glitter chic look: A purple tank top with black accents and a fair amount of glittery material is complemented by short shorts of the same color, their black accents mimicking tiger stripes along the sides (not unlike the design seen on a certain popular Disney movie a few years ago.) Black sneakers and black fingerless gloves complete the ensemble for the Cheshire Cat, his ginger-and-red fur shimmering from a light but carefully-applied layer of multicolored glitter.

"Well, well, well, it looks like we both raided the same closet today, didn't we?" he asks Meggan, his trademark grin flashing across his face as he offers a hug.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Dancing should be higher up the list of things people do. Ward buildings, beat monsters, pet Cerberus, those are all valuable actions. School and work take priority over fun for good reasons. Nightclubs need to show up for the good of the body and the heart, though. Letting loose to simply exist in a moment in time has real therapeutic value.

Trust the empathic Tuath de Danaan to know. Even from the outside, she can feel the vibes within, down under her feet. Stone and steel do nothing to halt that sense. Bedrock is a friend, her mother's bones, not a barrier impeding detection of the lashings of excitement, joy, and a bit of anxious delight boiling away far below. The rendezvous point being ten times shinier snaps her head up almost immediately, pale jade eyes seeking the source. So much sparkly glitter does a number on the eyes, and she winks, face cut and highlighted by narrow silver lines that make her seem like a maiden of the moon.

"We always need to open that chest!" she chimes as Terry cuts a fiery swathe of iridescence. She doesn't hesitate, bounding in two steps and bouncing up and down. That wide grin pulls everything in, and then he gets an embrace with the full force of merriment tilting around. She's warm, always the exact perfect temperature, one of those byproducts of nature loving her and her loving the Green and Gaea right back.

"Turn around! Let me see? It's amazing. I would say you should be on the Empire State Building spotlit for a show, that looks so good." Her enthusiasm bubbles up to a wide beam. "I've missed you!"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I've missed you as well!" Terry says, giving the requisite twirl to show off the iridescent garment, "I spent three days on an alien planet and boy, am I ready for some good ol' fashioned fun!"

He doen't have the same connection to the Earth as Meggan does, being part of another reality altogether, but he is attuned to the dynamic forces of chaos that often manifest in the benevolence of celebration and occasional debauchery. The air feels charged with anticipation and abandon, and it is contagious, making him bounce on the balls of his feet, unconsciously mimicking Meggan's bounce. "I've never been here before! Have you? Oh I so wish Gar could've been here! He's off in California doing some auditions... so it's you and me on the town tonight!"

He tosses a hand up and produces a puff of magical glittter, which doesn't fall down but rather float up in coruscating swirls, like tiny fireflies, "Let the games begin!"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Tell me everything you got up to. Surely quite a lot! We can do that down there too, of course." Golden hair practically silver in the low light of night, Meggan still presents a spin and a turn. "How did you spend three days on an alien planet? Did you take a blue box to get there? It sounds amazing. Was it easy to move around or breathe? I've always wondered if that would be a /thing/, but the telly programs always show gas or ice giants or great horrid moons no one would ever want to go on. Not very habitable places unless they're dreaming up terraforming Venus or Krypton."

She can and does speak a mile a minute when need be, infused by a genuine consideration for Terry's sparkling motes and bon vivant attitude. Her reality is just as much his; for all she belongs to Earth, she is an embodiment of the earth goddess in an adjacent realm, binding dreams and magic to places central and afar. Good fit if he's the child of chaos leaping from Wonderland to wunder land. "I have been here, just the once. One of my mates said to try it and I emant to... and he's doing auditions? Ooh! Gar must be amazing on camera, just think how much confidence it takes. Shall we?"

Onward means down. Really down. Steps that switchback from street level to a platform below go a long way indeed, but one well worth it for the prize? Good music, good glitz, and a mesmerizing confluence of old and new.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Well, it was Kian's homeworld, and we ended up by mistake. A dream of his triggered one of my rabbit holes. So we decided to stay there for a bit and say hi to his family. He vanished from there almost a year and a half ago, so you can imagine how worried they were..."

"Yes, let's!" the Cheshire cat says, following Meggan, letting her be his psychopomp to this cheerful and exuberant underworld. The Art Deco decor touches makes him almost want to rethink his choice of wardrobe, thinking that maybe he should have come as a sartorial tribute to Klimt, or maybe cosplay as a male Tamara de Lempicka- but it is too late, and the music and the glitz call out to him. The scene that reveals itself to him is not so much a dreary underworld like the domain of Hades, but a luminous concoction that fits more with Offenbach's reimagining of it. This is definitely the kind of underworld you could imagine the gods of Olympus dancing to in their 'galop infernal', kicking wildly and singing in anticipation of a party that would make Bacchus himself go 'Hold my Ambrosia.'

"Wow-" he says, standing still after entering for a couple of seconds, the LEDs casting interesting lights across his fur.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"A year and a half ago? That ought to have been quite a homecoming!" Her hair swinging in ripples and jagged layers both that somehow mingle, weaving of their own accord around Meggan's shoulders. "Were you well-received? I don't know heads or tails of Kian, I'm afraid, so I have to guess they would be okay with strangers from Earth! You make an excellent ambassador though. Friendly and all the fun bits together."

Her feet barely touch the ground in the descent to the underworld labyrinth bubbling in a cauldron of light and shadows, shot by the occasional hint of tilework from a more genteel age. The subway cars of that time are down here, hardly rusty or moldering. Nope, they're where a high-calibre sound system beckons enthralled dancers to brae the moment. Too late, and not at all late enough to make changes. Dionysus would have no gloomy underworld, after all. There are celebratory halls claimed by Frigga and the Hindu pantheon, apsaras and devas revelling in joy. "See?" she asks.

Probably unnecessary. The answer is present while cutting through the seating area, no need to claim a table on the platform. "Great fun is had down by the tracks. None of them have any electricity, at least I don't /feel/ any. If you get your fur standing up, shout! I can tell it all to sit in a corner." The charge, not the fur. That would be something else, scaring Terry's fur right off him.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I don't know, I think I'd enjoy the charge!" he says grinning. His shoes seem to move on their own, subconsciously tapping out the beat. "It's only a few days for The Day, you know. Things feel /thin/... like anything can happen, you know?" he says, "A friend of mine used to say that any dancing that happens near Samhain is an invitation for someone you don't expect to join you. Do you think that's true?" he asks, mischief glinting in his eyes as he glances in the direction of the tracks when Meggan mentions them.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Exciting!" Meg has to think about touching the ground. Usually she just floats straight along, but being two inches up might throw all sorts of concern from those with problems with superhumans or metahumans. Still, when one of every three steps isn't in touch with the ground, things get fun. "Samhain means a change in the crown at the overall court, so my new year is just two days away." Her smile falters, the pale glamour crackling and settled. Flesh that could just as easily turn to smoke hardens to a conscious focus. "Always a time to have fun and make merry for the last days of the year. Whether that means someone you don't expect to join will show, well! That's just one way of reminding you to broaden your horizons and a poke to dance the night away. I plan to!"

He went and tossed the gauntlet. Who wouldn't possibly take that up? Someone boring, but they aren't the kind. With prospects of fitting in to the thumming back beat and lively gloss of kinetic harmonies, she raises her hands and starts rolling to the beat. "If it makes you happy, why not indulge?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I've always wondered that about you..." Terry says with a lilt in his voice, "When we have some calm, I'd love to hear some more about Them..."

But this is not the time to delve into the secret history of the land. It is the time to dance. He raises his arms to match Meggan and says:

"I invite any who want to join us in good will!" he laughs and throws his head back, and begins to dance. He is not a bad dancer at all, his dexterity probably augmented by his feline side. As his heels hit the floor, little lights go off on his sneakers- because, of course, he brought /those/ along!

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan breaks into something of a grin, though it's tinged by just a trace of sadness. One that evaporates away soon enough. "Oh, I can answer some questions. Spent plenty of time on that side, and I'll be expected to go back for Samhain or at least afterward. Customary to make some kind of appearance." She traces her hand along the arc of her side, then pivots, churning to the staccato beat that drops in among the triumphant crackles and wicked accords. Raising her arms, she builds up more of a liquid rhythm.

"Goodwill and good fortune for all who brave it? You'll definitely going to attract them," she tells Terry with a laugh. How not to love that cat and his kindness? The shifting movements catch her eye, and a lengthier stare confirms he has light up trainers. How do you get adult light up trainers? A mystery! But the /best/ mystery.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I haven't been back to Wonderland-- I actually can't go back. For some reason. Tried." He calms his dancing down enough so that he can talk without twirling around too much- it makes words fade away. "But maybe someday I'll figure it out and we can take a jaunt there. But we'll avoid the Queen of Hearts. She's a bit... tetchy."

Another cloud of glitter is emitted, and he grins. His power of illusion makes his clothes glow a little, because what is the point if you don't do things like that?

"I bet you are as 'amused' by the Victorian depictions of The Folk as I am by ... the Disney depiction of... well. Me."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"'Tis the Queen of Hearts who wrote a tale unworthy of the day, so banish her from ourselves - I care not what she has to say!" The rhyme isn't perfect but it will do as the swing and twist. Tetchy probably isn't the half for the Queen of Hearts, but the girl who literally can be Alice if called for. "One day." A promise to Terry, and a tease, a dance, a turn of amusement.

The puffs of glitter at least don't stick, and that means some relative form of protection for them both. She certainly shimmers well enough on her own. He has the superior glamours to shimmer, though!

"I am more amused that Arthur Conan Doyle believed in the flower faeries! He was quite the interested man in mediums and other things, but that bit... Little faeries the size of a jonquil or living in the bluebells is a bit rich. Not many places have gardens like those, though." She shakes her head. "If Disney or the Victorians had met me, they'd probably say I wasn't nearly living up to it. I mean, I can be very, very small and winged if they need it, but really... you saw what the /fun/ side is! Cats are better than pixies."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Oh, I don't know about /that/," Terry says in a rare admission, "I wouldn't /mind/ being winged. I've always wanted to be able to fly, and I envy Kian and Gar so much for it!" he laughs, and he gives a flamboyant twirl that manages to be at both wild, and careful to not /whack/ some poor nearby dancer.

"You know what this place lacks? A bar! After we dance some rounds around the fairy ring, what do you say we hit somewhere fancy and get some fizzy drinks with a bajillion fruits and M. C. Escher sippy straws? My treat!"