sunnydalealum | (no subject)

Just keep an eye on that card every now and then, he said. You'll know where to go when the time's right.

Beth's entirely aware that probably means it's magic. Which means there's any number of other things it could be doing. Which means she seriously considers not taking it home with her, in case it could be used to track her -- but the only other place she could keep it is at the shelter, and she won't do that. It'd endanger everybody else there, the ones who come in for food, the ones who work there, Peter --

She won't, that's all.

So she sticks it to the fridge with the same magnet Spike left for her back in May, and that's where it is the Monday after Thanksgiving, when she sees that it's changed. There's an address there now, in that same elegant typeface, like it's been there all along.

Aequitas. She's looked it up. Latin for justice.

It's with a certain sense of fatalism that she steps off the bus a block from the address on the card, five days later, and walks toward the building.

(It's also with the same black wig she wore that night, as a sole concession to paranoia.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

nomorekaraoke

The area, filled with abandoned buildings and dark alleys as it is, may not be the first place you'd go look in if you wanted a wild night out. But there's something in the air, something in the way the ground vibrates beneath your feet that tells you this isn't just any place. This isn't just any night.

The line stretching from the rusty double doors certainly isn't just any kind of line. Humans, young and old, mingling and chatting and cheering with demons of different sizes and shapes and species, vampires smoking right in their midst, and not one of them seems to mind standing around waiting in the cold, dark night.

Up front, there are a handful of big fellows keeping an eye on things. One of them (a tall, wiry guy with black and white-blond hair) checks people's cards, another (big blob of a man with a head the size of a ripe melon) holds up...something right in front of every last one of the eager party-goers.

A mic?

Someone's singing, softly in the distance. Row, row, row your boat, gently down the--

From:

sunnydalealum

Partygoers. This is a club; exclusive, to judge by the length of the line, and expensive, to judge by the clothes of the people waiting in it.

She walks past the line, cranes her neck to see the address on the double doors, looks down at the card in her hands. Looks back and forth between them several times, hoping she's reading one of them wrong.

The fatalism is nearly gone, and in its place is a growing conviction that there must have been a mistake somewhere.

From:

nomorekaraoke

One other detail one will notice upon closer inspection in the light of the dimly lit entrance are the glinting eyes as they go to the stranger, the new face, and back again. Some as flickering as a dying dream, others bold and lingering.

One pair in particular look the girl up and down, ice blue and inanimate. It's one of the bouncers up front, noticing the very obvious hesitation.

It's his job to be nice to new comers. Especially ones who can afford to embrace the white trash look to such perfection. "Hey, there, Miss. I'm gonna have to ask you to stand in line like everyone else, I do apologize."

From:

sunnydalealum

"I, uh."

I took a wrong turn. Somewhere I took a wrong turn and this isn't the right place at all --

"This is Aequitas?" she asks, half-hoping to be told no, that's a block down.

From:

nomorekaraoke

"Yes, Miss. It looks like nothing special on the outside, but like the boss says about books and covers." He grins curving his arm like so much a net for catching flitting butterflies, and proceeds to usher the young lady to the end of the line.

"The name's Reep, and I am here to serve you." He then bows his head and twirls his free arm in the caricature of a cordial bow. "At least if there's anything you need sortin' out back here. Inside, you'd best speak to the boss if you find anything's sadly lacking."

The grin, for being a human grin, might seem awful wide, all of a sudden.

From:

sunnydalealum

It does; and for a moment there's the impulse to turn and walk back to the bus stop -- an impulse heightened by a sudden horrible consciousness of how underdressed she is in comparison to the others in line. The best you can say for her black jeans and gray sweater is that they're clean, and they definitely don't belong in the same ensemble as the jewel-green velvet on the woman ahead of her, or the glossy furs of someone further up the line.

But the impulse passes, and she takes a deep breath of the chilly November air and stays where she is.

It's discomfort, not danger. Not threat. And she thinks -- she's pretty sure -- that by now she knows the difference.

She offers Reep a very small smile and a low "Thank you."

From:

nomorekaraoke

Aequitas is, among many different things, a very exclusive club. It is, contradictorily enough, also a very inclusive club. It stands true that many if not most of the people buzzing in line seem wealthy, the sheer diversity in species and walks of life and fashion sense is the most important thing of all. It isn't about how much money you have, nor how much influence, it's just as much about who you are.

And Emma is reaching the front of the line, and fast enough. More than a few anxious people up front have been made to leave or left of their own volition. There seems to be some sort of security check up front.

It comes in the form of a microphone thrust in her face. A very small microphone, held in the grip of a very big hand. The big guy is more than big this up close and personal. He's the living, breathing concept of a brick shit house (and just about as visually appealing).

"Sing a song, pleez."

From:

sunnydalealum

Sing a song. She's been hearing the snatches of song coming from the front of the line as she got closer. And now abruptly she remembers Lorne, a month ago, asking would you at all mind humming a tune for me?

It unnerved her then; weirdly, it's heartening now, like seeing a familiar face in a crowd of strangers.

She gulps, takes a breath, and quavers out a line from the first song to come to mind: "A roomful of people, all waiting on one person's breath..."

From:

nomorekaraoke

There's a moment's pause as she stops, and the big man with his beady little eyes set in his itty bitty skull watches her with unfathomable black eyes. Off to the side, Reep winks at her.

"She's green, Jarv'. Go on, let the lady pass."

And 'Jarv' dutifully steps to the side, sticking the mic in the face of the next hapless person in line.

Reep opens one of the doors, gesturing inside with a grand sweep of his arm; inside, the lights are dimmed as they are outside, save for the warm spots brightening the bar and its tenders, and the soft glow of candlelights, like fireflies in the darkness they're scattered about the room in warm, bulbous candle holders set on tables further in. Some have settled in already, others are being shown to their table of preference, all with smiles and soft gestures from the eye candy dressed as wait staff.

Beyond the glow of the candles, the dance floor, and its assorted, ecstatic chaos.

There is no music. Just the thrum of a heavy bass resonating in every moving thing, living, dead and otherwise.

From:

sunnydalealum

Beth -- Emma, she reminds herself, her name is Emma -- stumbles a few steps to one side of the door so as not to block anyone coming in, and presses back against the wall, staring around.

It's beautiful.

It's so not what she was expecting when she left her apartment tonight.

And she can't see Lorne anywhe -- wait, no, there he is....

From:

nomorekaraoke

Lorne is making his rounds, which is something he does every last big night. It may not always be this early, but there are a lot of people to get chatting with tonight, and he likes getting started early when that's the case. It always seems to be when the holidays, big and small, come around. Aequitas is a refuge from the constant bombardment of religious cheer and goodwill and fake smiles galore - because you know it has a tendency to surge, especially this time of year.

And, when Lorne throws a party, he makes sure never to outshine his guests. Dressed in a suit so dark purple it might as well be black, a slate gray pin stripe shirt and rich, dark red tie to match, he looks every bit the professional.

The perfectly made up face is all about fun and games, and most of all, style.

From:

sunnydalealum

He's heading this way.

She swallows, hands closing into nervous fists inside the too-long sleeves of her sweater, and starts forward to meet him.

From:

nomorekaraoke

Heading this way, pausing every now and then to tilt his head down and to the side, the frowny curves between his eyebrows deepening a little in concentration. And then, a gesture or two at the thin air, one word (green, red), and he moves on.

It isn't long before his eyes light on the new-faced, fresh-faced-- No, make that deer in headlights-faced woman by the entrance. Emma. Emma gets the tell-tale warning that a hug is coming; his arms spread wide in the plain ol' good cheer of the perfect host.

"Darling, I thought you'd never get your fine self indoors, you must be freezing!"

From:

sunnydalealum

"It's not that cold," she says inanely in the second-and-a-half before she's enfolded in the hug, the expensive fabric of his suit smooth against her cheek like a secondary caress.

Her return hug is belated, and uncertain.

From:

nomorekaraoke

"Pish-tosh, 'it's not that cold'." He pulls back with the smile still intact, but no, wait-- There comes that silent focus again, as he turns away just slightly, eyes narrowing.

"Red, Reep. Don't take 'Why God why' for an answer."

Aaand back to the present. "Can I get you a drink?"

From:

sunnydalealum

"Um." Beat. "Something with no alcohol in it?"

And she's looking oddly at him. "You're listening to the people singing out front," she guesses tentatively.

From:

nomorekaraoke

"Sure thing. Step into my best buddy's office," he gestures to the lit up bar, and the three-eyed bartender with a friendly - if sharp-toothed - smile.

"Ramon, darling, give my friend something nice and immaculate. The usual for me, pretty please with honey on top."

One Seabreeze for Lorne, a virgin Cosmo for the friend.

And then, only then, does he address the question what sadly lacked a question mark. He does so with a sip, and a scrutinizing look down his inescapable nose.

"Busteeeed. What can I say? Yeah, I am--" Speaking of which, "Greener than me, sweetie."

From:

sunnydalealum

She takes the glass the bartender gives her, and (with an effort) doesn't stare at his third eye.

Now that she's here, she has no idea at all what to say to him.

From:

nomorekaraoke

The third eye? It winks at her. Seems like Lorne isn't the only cheeky demon fellow in the neighborhood.

But he is one of the more astute ones, even if he once upon a long time ago continuously used to blame himself for not seeing things that are right there. Nowadays, he doesn't even try.

Emma, however, she's right there, as is her rising discomfiture. "How ya been, doll? Halloween seems like eons ago."

From:

sunnydalealum

"I, I've been okay."

Behind her there's a cascade of silvery laughter as a pair of beautiful androgynes passes by, arms about each other's waists. Her head ducks slightly, the gesture involuntary and unconscious.

"You?"

From:

nomorekaraoke

"Never been better," he nudges her gently, paying no heed at all to her deer like charms. Neither is he taking any note of how very headlightsy vibes his bar is giving off, in relation to his newest house guest of sorts.

"Well, never is such a potent turn of phrase. I've been grand, though."

He takes the opportunity to tap the side of his nose. "All healed up."

From:

sunnydalealum

That gets a tiny smile.

And enough bravery to say "So you never told me this card was for a club."

(Not enough bravery to say it with any sharpness. Her tone's closer to apologetic, as though it's her fault he didn't mention it.)

From:

nomorekaraoke

The corner of his lips quirks up and down in a crooked little grimace most suitably emoting oops.

"I didn't? I didn't." He reaches out to pat her hand in apology. "Sorry, my doveling."

From:

sunnydalealum

She tugs at the neck of her sweater. "I'd have dressed nicer, if ... I mean," and there's admiration and envy and embarrassment all mingled in her voice, "everybody here's so ... I don't know. Posh."

It's a word she hasn't heard since leaving England, and it sounds strange in her mouth.

From:

nomorekaraoke

"Oh, honey." He smiles, warmly amused. "From the looks you're getting, half the crowd here is wondering who you are to be so rich and carefree not to bother dolling up, and the other half wants to know where you got the outfit.

"Don't you worry. You fit right in."