lucetilogs | and the bass keeps runnin runnin

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and the bass keeps runnin runnin

Who: Anyone who heard the announcement, caught a flier in the plaza, of heard by word of mouth. Everyone's welcome!
What: A rave! Well, "rave." Luceti makes everything a little different.
When: June 21st, nightfall to early morning
Where: the beach near Adele's house
Summary: It's the first day of summer! This calls for bonfires, naturally, but why not spice it up with loud music, flashing lights, drinks, dancing, and a conspicuous lack of curfew?
Rating: PG to PG-13, please move anything steamier to appointments ~~or Adele will take the hose to you~~

Getting all the firewood, food, and drink out to the beach had been, honestly, the hardest part of preparation. Whatever else one might say about running things on magic, it certainly did cut down on the trouble of constructing edifices and machines to run the entertainment side of a party. As it stands, the setup is labour-intensive but otherwise minimal, and there's not much to do by sunset. Escape the house before Max and Zevran, the culture-displaced madmen, can put any more eyeliner on him. Arrive at the beach. Light the bonfires. Make sure the bonfire-cooking-compliant food is set out. Put up a table loaded with bottles, cups, ice, and permanent markers. Thank the resident doctor and quartermaster once more. Plug in the stereo system.

The speakers and light show have been with him since he left his house, in the form of the resident god of mischief, and they confer over sheets of paper with track names and times written on them for a little while just before the start. That's the last of it, and by the time the sky above the mountains is beginning to darken into twilight, the first thumping, trilling strains of dance music begin to echo out across the sand.

It's the shortest night of the year. Best make every second last.

[OOC: Feel free to post your character for mingling, since this entire event is very free-form anyway. For everyone's enjoyment there is a drinks table, food, several bonfires, the ocean (lifeguards not on duty, splash drunkenly at your own risk), and of course a dancing area with lights and music. Music will probably be primarily EDM with a heavy bass line, but occasionally wander into the territories of electro-swing and the like to give even less modern partygoers a chance to show off. The light show as well will stray out of the typical at times, with the expected abstract wheeling and flashing lights giving way to more complicated illusions. Don't be surprised to find yourself and your fellows occasionally dancing in a forest glen or a Rivendell look-alike for a few minutes at a time. Loki is working the tech booth, after all.

The party will go as long as people stay and are enjoying themselves, so have fun and tag around!]

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They haven't danced before. Not like this. They don't know each other's limitations or comforts, strengths or weaknesses- but there's nothing to fall on but sand and room enough that it won't hurt. That makes the choice easy for Adele. She arches- and lets her other leg come up as well, locking it in place around his waist and letting Derek have the whole of her weight as she goes all but limp from the hips up, curving backward in a sharp arc.

His hand and arm slide easily behind her to support her, hopefully leaving no doubt that he has control and will by no means be dropping her. He lets her hang, stretch, feel the ground pull at her, before bringing her up again, that one arm still around her waist and that hand bracing the small of her back while he seeks out her other hand so that they can match steps across the floor.

She holds the pose a moment- attempting to reorient herself and keep the bottle yet in her hands from spilling. It's a near thing so when she pulls herself back up she takes a long swig. The lighter the bottle, the easier it is to handle. Logic. She has some on occasion. Grinning through the pleasant burn she offers him much of the same, sliding back to her feet in such a way that she's more entwined with Derek than not even when she is on her own two feet.

Entwined, he'll take the moment to gently pull the hand with the bottle to his lips, taking a drink himself before carefully kissing the inside of her wrist and putting that hand, and the bottle, back into proper position. He'll slide his own leg up, a tease before he turns away, letting her go with all but one hand.

Playful. She doesn't know why she expects him to be anything but playful and contradictory anymore. Teasing earns teasing in turn as she steps back into position, following the lead he set with his hands and his hips, legs darting in and around his as they move through the crowd.

It's been a long time since he's wanted to be playful, and she only encourages him in her own way, just by being herself. He'll smile at her as they make their way across the floor, and it's both open and intimate and quickly gone to be replaced with the same intent look he started the dance with. But it was there, for a second, just for her. A thank you and a part of him that he meant only for her to see in that second.

When they reach the end of he floor, he stops, ready to let her take the lead...at least for the moment.

It means something, that smile. Small and private and not something for most to see and she nearly loses her step for the realization. For her this is well and good and fun and comfortable. Relaxing and without definition and without the drowning weight of any serious romantic intent behind it. She can't- won't let herself fall into that trap again.

And yet here is a normally paranoid man baring that sort of vulnerability to her-

She sets the thought aside. Focuses on the dance. On stepping forward into his space and ghosting her lips across his before darting back in a spin, pulling free entirely for a few half steps in the sand. Come and get me, she thinks.

If he notices the shunting away, he gives no sign. The smile he gives her for the kiss is much like the ones earlier in the evening; playful and teasing and asking nothing of her. Just appreciating the moment. And when she leaves him completely for those hanging seconds, he lets the moment drag a little.

Will he or won't he?

But then he catches the next beat, and her, leaning into her until the next flight out of his hands, which trail down her arms to tease at her fingers.

He will. She knows that, somehow. It isn't quite a certainty but she knows in this moment? He wants to give chase. After all he is a hunter and that comes with a particular set of instincts and habits.

As little as she likes to think of herself prey it is remarkably applicable for the moment.

She leans into him, fingers tight around his and head tilting just that much to the side, baring just a bit of her throat to him.

He lets himself go flush against her, tangling their fingers together, teasing at that bared neck with a near miss of his lips as he traced from jaw to shoulder, and then he's moving again, bringing her around to face him, still staying as close as the steps will allow.

He knows she's teasing him with this chase and stop, and he lets her do it to him, even as he knows it's nothing but the illusion of being 'prey' for her. It's enough that she knows the game, and that she's willing to play it out, that gets him intently watching every move, anticipating the next time she'll break away, teasing at him to follow.

For the moment she's content to be caught and held through a few turns. Glad to move and be moved, to lead and follow and enjoy this flirtatious give and take in the middle of a sea of writhing bodies and music so loud it is not so much heard as it is felt. The key and the tempo seem to change just so, and that is when she spins away- billowing sleeves and loose hair flaring and flying about her slim form until she's almost, but not quite, lost to the crowd.

He'd have to work a little harder to catch her this time, and it will give her a moment to take a swig from the rune marked bottle.

He'll laugh as she goes, letting her nearly disappear from view. Tease.

He'll let himself be slowed down by the intervening people between them, matching his movements with them as he worked through the crowd to catch up. As the other dancers surged and swayed to the music, he did actually lose sight of her a few times.

And decided to take advantage of it.

Working around, disappearing from sight himself, when he finally did catch up with her, it was from the opposite direction and from behind, his hands and arms catching her waist and hips before wrapping around her.

Solos were never as fun when one wasn't en pointe, but she didn't have the shoes and sand wasn't conductive to it so she settles for the sinuous, sultry steps of a solo tango, dragging her toes through the sand with a smirk on her lips. He'll find her, of course.

Next time it might be her turn to give chase-

Except she had once before when they'd both been different, both been feral and why she thinks of that now she doesn't know except she does. She's never been able to sit back and accept a good thing. Never been able to let herself enjoy it and be happy.

It's hard to not sit back and enjoy it when he pulls her in tight from behind and she's laughing, rocking back into him easily without thought because they just seem to be on that much of the same wavelength.

She can probably feel the pleased hum that he make sub-vocally. He sways with his arms around her like that for a moment, curved against her and cheek to cheek over her shoulder. It wasn't quite how you were supposed to do it, but her open laughter and the feel of her body against his once again begged for the contact to hold.

"Miss me?" he whispers that playfully; wouldn't be surprised if she said 'no'. That was often part of this kind of game, after all.

"Non." Predictable? Perhaps. But it's what he wants to hear and it's teasing and it's fun and wow that runed bottle packs a punch. It's not fair if she's the only one swimming so she offers the bottle with a quirked brow and faintly inappropriate roll of her hips against his. Well. It's not entirely inappropriate in an Argentine tango.

He gives another pleased hum as he rolls with her and accepts the bottle. He'll take a decent swig himself before handing it back and sliding one hand from the top to bottom of her stomach.

"I think some part of you is saying otherwise," he whispers in her ear.

"And I think that part is a liar." She snorts and rests her hand on his, squeezing it. They could continue like this and she would very much like to- but she's supposed to be the responsible adult tonight. Keeping kids from drink and debauchery. "Later, Derek. We're supposed to be setting an example."

"I know. But you can't blame me for trying. Not with your moves," he smiles, but he also changes his grip to something more appropriate, giving her one last gentle kiss before turning to face her in proper form again.

"Finish with me, and then I'll let you behave for the rest of the night."

At least until the kids had gone home.

"Yes?"

"Classically trained, some of that has to stick." She is not preening. Not in the slightest. Not when he's shown he can keep up just as well. She settles in position without further comment or alluring rolls of her hips. Well. one more roll, but one to be seen rather than felt because she knows she's in the best shape of her rather absurd life at the moment and fairly proud of it.

"That seems fair."

The smile and the glance to her hips as she moves should tell her just how much that fine form is being appreciated by Derek right now. With her agreement, he leads her into the final parts of the dance, flirting with veering into inappropriateness again, but keeping his control, and his promise, not to do so.

But yes, later, definitely later, he'd be chasing her for all he was worth. And there would be no holding back.

This late in the dance she lets him lead the tango to it's sultry and inevitable conclusion. The give and take can be pulled up again after everyone's gone home and it's just them, the ocean, and far too much time on their hands to fill the remainder of the evening.

Then, he'll give chase. And she'll do her best to give him a merry one.

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and the bass keeps runnin runnin

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