meadowlarklogs | one night of magic rush

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one night of magic rush

WHO: Cain, Prompto, Hideki Maeda, and you!
WHERE: The popular Asylum club.
WHEN: Night of October 26.
WHAT: Cain and Prompto's joint birthdays!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Beyond drinking/smoking, general wild party behavior, and fake friendship, there shouldn't be much. Will update as needed.

[Set deep in the downtown of New Amsterdam's entertainment district is Asylum, arguably the most popular club in the city. The exterior is cool steel beams and tasteful futuristic architecture with a long line down the corridor, suited bouncers posed at the entrance all armed with a virtual guest list. Its interior is fashioned with bright, colorful lighting dynamic to the music of the infamous DJ Semicolon, high ceilings and acoustic sounds to lend that feeling of a constant full-body hum. Any partygoers on the guest list for this event will be funneled toward the VIP section. They will have received an invitation a few days prior via their Cooltalk profiles. Jason is specifically blacklisted, sorry buddy.

DANCE YOUR HEART OUT. Nearly impossible to book without deep pockets or wide-reaching connections, Semicolon is at the top of their game mixing popular contemporary hits with Whitney Houston's classics. From song to song, Semicolon provides a unique and talented contrast of the slow to the energetic, so no matter your dancing style, you'll find something to move you on the dance floor.

DROWN YOUR... LIVER. Courtesy of the party's host, Hideki Maeda, the VIP section's private bar will provide an ever-flowing river of your favorite expensive high-proof alcohol. Pick your poison.

CHILL OUT. Tired on your feet from too much dancing, or just need a break from the packed atmosphere? There are plenty of comfortable areas where you can relax and take it easy until you're ready to get back out there. The lights around this area cycle through different colors in reflection of Semicolon's performance set, so a slower song might lend toward romantic shades of red while a faster-paced song is brighter blue.

SMOKE, EAT & MINGLE. Asylum will be serving real, fresh meat at this party, so enjoy that luxury while it lasts. There is also an outdoor area with a beautiful view over the city itself if you want to take your vape pen out there for a smoke, just get some air, or see who's around for a chat.]

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[After all is said and done, V simply isn’t much of a party-goer. There’s only so much he can appreciate the lurid lights and the thumping bass beat, even if they had been so graciously delegated to the VIP lounge. After all, that comes with its own brand of expectations — expensive drinks, dancing, and chatting it up with strangers. Not the sort of cloth that V was ever cut from, and probably never will be.

So it’s no surprise that after the party’s gone on for a while yet, V can be found outside, enjoying the nightly chill. A blessed departure from the wave of warm bodies inside.

He’s leaning against the building, arms crossed, cane held under an arm and dressed all in black. Prompto comes stumbling into his vision, asking about a jacket, and a dark brow lifts.]

The one you had me watch over?

[The one that is nowhere to be seen, definitely not on V’s person.]

[prompto nearly gives himself whiplash when he hears v talking and, unsurprisingly, his attention zeroes on the man and prompto makes his way outside, trying to not have his feet betray him. he's too warm from drinking, he can't possibly sense the cold.]

What do you mean!

[that's a heavy hand on one of his arms, for balance.]

You said you'd look after it!

[v did not.]

[Prompto is suddenly latching onto his arm, and V's expression turns into a mild frown as he has to adjust his balance accordingly. Thankfully, his long sleeves block out any accidental activations of the empathy bond.

Flushed red, smelling of alcohol, V thinks that the other has had obviously too much to drink; thus, the jacket conundrum. One that V is of no mind to offer comfort, not when his memory flashes back to-]

You tossed it at me like I was some sort of living coat rack. I never said I would look after it.

[It was rude as heck.]

Yeah, but—!

[he's not gonna even try to deny it. he did pretty much toss the jacket at v and didn't wait for an answer, just because the song that was playing was one of his favorites as of late.]

[groaning, prompto presses his forehead onto his own arm—the one holding onto v—swaying a little at the sudden shift of balance on his person.]

[looking up now] Where'd you see it last?

A girl complimented the jacket. I gave it to her while she disappeared onto the dance floor.

[Spoken so casually like it ain't no thing. And it isn't, because you shouldn't trust V to watch over useless items that he didn't agree to protect.

He raises his arm in a little nudge, trying to get Prompto's eyes to focus on him.] You're going to regret your current state in the morning. Forget about fumbling around for your jacket and take a moment to recover.

You— You gave some girl wha— whah— agh— my blue denim jacket?!

[that's an oddly specific descriptor for someone who is as drunk as he is, and it's so bad because v is so casual about it—so it's even more obvious that prompto seems to be overreacting.]

[he's still pretty frazzled by that information, ready to storm off and find his jacket in the dance floor, but the nudge keeps him steady and on the spot.]

Okay, good point, but it's cold??

I think it feels nice. It’s too warm in there... and too loud.

[They make for a hilarious contrast to the odd passerby. V and his unaffected manner, versus Prompto’s lamenting over his lost denim jacket. The taller man is unmoving, looking down at him evenly.]

If you were so attached to it, why did you take it off to begin with?

[And literally throw it at his face. This might be the true sticking point.]

Cuz I wanted to go dance! The jacket wasn't part of the outfit...

[DUH? WTF]

It's not that I'm super attached, I just—

[woah, random need to take a step back, still gripping onto v. the surprise of that totally stopped his train of thought and now he can't remember what he was about to go into a tirade about.]

'nyway, so. [aha] Lend me your cane.

[Part of the outfit? Wasn’t the jacket part of the outfit? He’s not quite sure he understands the logic behind that statement — but then again, maybe it’s his fault for thinking he can pry out sense from someone already so inebriated.

Prompto taking a step back seems to sever any train of thought heading in that direction. V looks at him dubiously, uncertain about the request and the sudden change of subject both. His cane is still tucked neatly under his arm, balanced there this whole time. V becomes hyperaware of its position.]

...Why?

[prompto takes the question as an affirmation, and so he takes (wrangles) the cane from v's hold. even pretty drunk, prompto's a lot stronger than v. sucks to suck, etc.]

[that done, he doesn't go too far, moving maybe five feet away from v and setting the cane down on the floor—and stepping away.]

[now he's pointing at it like it's part of some exhibit.]

Wow! Your cane is missing! I wish someone would help you find it!

[this is dumb and he is drunk. there's another stumble and he nearly falls on his ass.]

[He can’t stop it before the cane is slipped from his grasp, wrangled away by Prompto even as he tries to keep hold of it. For a moment, he’s reminded of the prank Griffon had played on him, and vague irritation flares up in his chest, just a small thing—

But it’s replaced by something almost disbelieving as the other just... wanders like five feet away and lays his cane flat on the ground between them.]

You...

[V can only comprehend the point Prompto is trying to make in that “drunken logic” kind of way. There’s a moment where he just stares, brow furrowed, but something tugging lopsidedly at his lips.]

Right. What a shame that someone’s stolen off with it. A drunken thief in the night. Whatever shall I do?

[he starts grinning at how v reacts, but seems to catch himself halfway through and steels his expression to feigned annoyance.]

Right! Now you know how I feel!

[?? no, it's not... not the same...]

[with minimal effort (surprising, for how much he's had to drink), prompto picks up the cane again and walks back to v, handing it back. he's not so mean he can keep a joke going for a while...]

And I've returned it! Saving the day! So, [grabbing him by the arm again, he tugs at v off the railing of the balcony, before going around and starting to push him, hands at his back] help me find my jacket!

["stop fumbling and take a moment to recover," it's like you don't know him.]

[He’ll remember this for later. Point out exactly how ridiculous he’s acting and the fallacy of his logic, something to amuse himself over a day or two from now. But when the cane is returned, he barely has a chance to grip at his hilt before Prompto is behind him, hands pressed at his back.

V moves because he has no choice, unless he wants to stumble face-forward onto the ground.]

You want—

[Ugh, they’ve crossed the threshold of the balcony and now he’s inside again, the loud music and swelling laughter catching in his ears.]

Are you really expecting me to go asking around for your jacket among all these people?

[Why can’t Prompto ever chill?]

Just buy another one.

[prompto keeps pushing v, through the crowd of people, and isn't quite letting them stop to ask anyone anything.]

It has sentimental value! I can't just buy another one!

[get on with the times, being human is very complicated]

[that being said, they're reaching the loud speakers, and prompto stops a few feet from dj semicolon's turntables or whatever futuristic thing they are. he yells, slurred:]

Just say you have an announcement to make! Get on the mic, ask for my jacket, and I'll pounce on the culprit!

[change his mind]

[The lights and limbs are basically a slow-moving kalediscope as V’s pushed past them, straight across the dance floor and drawing closer to where DJ Semicolon fabricates a thudding remix that vibrates through their bones. There’s a quip to be had about sentimental value and how such precious items should be treated (not thrown into the face of an unaffected roommate, thank you very much), but he’s too distracted by the suggestion to say anything on the matter.

As he’s getting shuffled along, nearing Prompto’s new destination, he speaks up over all the noise.]

Your denim jacket is so precious to you that you’d suffer the embarrassment of an announcement asking where it is?

[The implication being this: V would be unbothered by the effort, and said embarrassment wouldn’t apply to him. He’ll do it, you just better not regret it later, Prompto, especially now that they're just feet away from this actually happening.]

Edited (clarification) 2019-05-20 19:06 (UTC)

[all prompto has to offer is a shrug]

You're the one who lost my jacket!

[one day, prompto will realize that the reason it happened is because he got too comfortable with the idea that v would be his personal coat hanger. but that's not today — and so prompto dismisses him with waves of his hands as he walks back.]

Tell 'em to raise their hands! And you can wish me happy birthday again!

[yeah]

I didn’t lose your jacket. I gave it away.

[There’s a difference. It’s all about intent.

But Prompto is too drunk to be anything but oblivious. And somehow, that’s ended up with the two of them standing awkwardly close to the DJ, whose attentions are slowly being pulled in their hovering directions. But V, who sees no reason to not grant Prompto exactly what he wants, introverted but never self-conscious, steps forward and leans in, indicating his attempt at asking for an announcement.

He seems successful after a bit of shouting (forced to repeat himself more than once) over the impossibly loud music, having sold his request by prefacing it was at the behest of one of the birthday boys. And so with a grin and a wave of encouragement, DJ Semicolon ushers V to stand behind the sleek podium, the futuristic mic ready to receive whatever he says, while the music fades out over the dance floor.]

Good evening. [V’s voice practically fills the nightclub, warmed tones and even delivery. With such a sharp change from music to some dude going into Narration Voice, it’s enough to make most of the party goers pause in their dancing, glancing towards the DJ booth. V continues, unbothered by the attention.]

I hope you’re all having fun tonight. And sorry for the interruption, but I have a both a message and a request from a blond-headed birthday boy.

[A dramatic pause goes here, because one always inserts a dramatic pause before getting to the point.]

[And then, with the careful enunciation of reciting something lovingly memorized—]

'Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?’

[He lets that… hang there, for a moment. And then, with a grin, still pressed close to the mic.]

Put your hands up and wish Prompto Argentum a very happy birthday. Also, the young woman in which I gave his precious blue denim jacket to… if you’d please be so kind enough as to return it. Apparently it has sentimental value.

[V moves to step away from the mic, but then draws close again, forgetting a—] Thank you.

[And then steps down from his temporary soapbox. The deed is done.]

[there's a bit of a confused silence at the poem, and even prompto's feeling that scalding burn from second-hand embarrassment—were it not for some people hooting and awkwardly clapping, because it was actually pretty exceptional the way that much was delivered.]

[prompto feels his cheeks burn except he's smiling, awkwardly laughing as he gets a couple of claps on the back from the party-goers around him, cheers bursting forward and loud as v proclaims a jostle of birthday congratulations is in order.]

[truth be told, he's having a hard time peeling his eyes away from v. he cannot believe that he actually did it! it might be worth forgetting about the jacket dilemma at all.]

Prom!

—ah!

[and that's his jacket being thrown about]

Give it up for this young man, and now put your hands up for some NOISE.

[the feedback of the microphone goes a little wild as the music resumes again, bass boosted louder than before. prompto's gonna spend x number of minutes playing jump-and-catch for his jacket, being thrown around by the crowd. he's caught in a few mosh pits and turned around a few times with people wanting to dance.]

[he exits the dance floor clutching his jacket and pretty much rolling onto the floor and deciding it's best if he just lies down there on his back for a bit, catch his breath and all that.]

[opening his eyes, he's more than enthused to see v nearby. he raises his jacket, victorious]

Hey! I got it!

Edited 2019-05-20 20:28 (UTC)

[A poem well-recited, regardless of what anyone else thinks. And if there’s anything to be embarrassed about, none of it settles — instead, the reception is a loud one, ending with happy birthday wishes and a request for a jacket returned. He sees it flung up amongst the row of people on the dance floor, a throng of excitement that keeps the denim article leaping up in the air, and his roommate pulled into the festivities with a game of catch-it-if-you-can.

V looks amused, and has no issue with the spotlight being extracted from him. In fact, he’s more than happy to delegate himself to wallflower status again, moving away from the group and the cheering laughter, watching as Prompto is strewn around from dance to dance.

He’s of half a mind to return to the cool air of the balcony, its nighttime canvas, when the other comes stumbling into view, rolling onto the floor with his jacket (wrinkled-looking thing now) held up high in victorious declaration.]

You did.

[Instead, V stands over him, planting his cane down nearby and leaning into it with both hands as he glances down at Prompto.]

Happy now?

Yeah, I am!

[and with a quick huff of air, he's pushing himself back on his feet. he still has energy, which is surprising. he puts on the jacket, ironing it down a little even if it's definitely stained and looking less presentable than earlier.]

[he takes no time to say anything, going around the other and starting to push him again from the back—destination: the outside area.]

Let's go back outside now!

[this whole thing is childish and dumb]

[How does he still possess so much energy? This is a question that V might still be asking himself in the future, for an untold amount of times.

But for now, with Prompto back on his feet, he's once more being shuffled out into the balcony with eager hands pressed against his shoulder blades.]

Don't you have people to dance with? Now that you've recovered your treasured jacket?

[Childish and dumb. And now V's back in the outside air, which is... fine, he supposes, if he wasn't being guided around by a drunk Prompto. Again.]

I wanted the jacket to be outside, 'cuz it's cold!

[he says this. but soon as they're outside, he stops guiding v around and plants himself instead on one of the nearby benches with cushions, and immediately realizes his mistake. it's too hot—having been jumping around for so long—and so he wiggles out of the denim.]

[legs outstretched, linked at the ankles, he slumps down and tips his head back to basically rest.]

[don't tell him that his point was ????? what?]

[he's banking on v being around, for he says.] I recorded it. The poem stuff.

[someone was thrilled by it]

[While Prompto busies himself with wiggling out of the jacket they had gone to such lengths to find, V can’t help but raise a brow at the sight as he moves again to the railing. A hip leans against it as he considers the other, a little pleased at what he chooses to take as a compliment.]

It wasn’t terribly related to your actual birthday, but I saw an opportunity that I couldn’t ignore. Still, I’m glad you enjoyed it, even if it wasn’t the full poem.

[He places his cane down, leaning against the railing, as well.]

Consider it a... [Motions vaguely with a hand.] ...birthday present, since I didn’t get you anything else.

Feels like you just want an excuse to say poems whenever.

[picking up after himself, prompto tries to sit up straighter. no matter how mysterious v (consciously or unconsciously) tries to paint himself as, there's clearly that layer of him being a big nerd over his favored hobby: poetry.]

[prompto can appreciate that in others. noctis and video games, ignis and cooking, gladio and camping. he really can't say much, though, for he is—after all—deep into photography.]

It's a good present, so thanks. Y'gonna be reciting a lot of poems in the apartment? I'd be down.

one night of magic rush

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1/2 i can't believe you're making me write this

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