revivalproject

Entry tags:

salon

WHO: Esteemed, invited guests (everyone).
WHERE: The greenhouse
WHAT: A party! And not the kind of crime that the Agrii commit. Come show them how it is done.
WHEN: During a very long and slow space trip.
WARNINGS: Mark your threads if you get into trouble.

pre-festivity...network?
[Over the shipwide broadcast system that everyone is lucky Tony has not made more liberal use of, accompanied by gently dimming lights as though signalling intermission was coming to an end, and Act II was about to begin.]

Your attention, please. Please give me attention. You're not doing anything important, I know you aren't, so if you would kindly make your way to the quote-unquote 'Green Room', the rest of us are waiting for you.

Wear something that makes you feel delectable.

[Did he have to say it like that? Of course, he's trying to set a mood.]

the event
The atmosphere of the Green Room, which had at other times been a battleground, and a quiet resting place, was what could be called a soiree. Some of it was magic, brought to brief reality by Billy to disappear as the get together came to an end like carriages into pumpkins as their clock ran out, and other things were altogether different kinds of illusions. Like the tree Cayde had worked to fell, hauled up off of the ground to brace in the branches overhead, its dying boughs slouching down toward the ground in winding tendrils that were strung with glittering lights, a fragrant curtain around the area conveniently cleared by the destruction of the tree to give plenty of room to pull a partner into a dance. The music, naggingly familiar to those who called Earth home but distinctly synthetic, was playing through the broadcast system, loudest near the clearing and progressively softer the further away from this hub, but continuous throughout the ship until it felt like a whisper from another room at the farthest points like the cargo bay.

The noise competed slightly with the raucous beckoning of the karaoke machine installed near one end of the Green Room. This corner felt like it hadn't quite received the dress code, dotted with balloons and nearest to what could be described as a sundae bar, with what looked like all of the right textures for a very indulgent ice cream experience. The Agrii were more than happy to help with the food, so be prepared for a less obvious flavour profile.

More (potentially?) savoury options were offered throughout the Green Room, in no centralized location but spread across tables that had obviously be borrowed and dragged from throughout the ship, flanked by equally mismatched seating, flat-enough surfaces, or piles of linens and pillows where the ground was less even. Some of these tables had a datapad left on them, locked to a curious list that could only be checked off and not otherwise tampered with, at least for those not particularly technically inclined. Each item seemed to describe a person, all following a similar format in various levels of complexity, starting simple with, 'Someone with hazel eyes...'

One of these datapads, on a table tucked under a heavy lattice of vines and under the drape of what looked like approximately 40 metres of a sheer silk, started the evening much more blank, only marked at the top with a bold WHAT WE KNOW. That was a broad statement. Surely, everyone had a little of something to contribute to an article like that.

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Okay maybe Tony doesn’t like to dance. Tommy doesn’t know. But there was a party with dancing in his head so clearly the answer is yes.

“Bullshit. Everyone can dance. Not that formal shit. Just moving to the beat. It’s fun. It’s Human. Do you need me to show you?”

Jon makes a suffering grimace before shaking his head. "Thanks, Tommy, but... I think it's decidedly too late for any dance lessons." He won't even point out that his general idea of fun doesn't much entail any physical activities.

He lets his attention drop back down to the remote he has used to scroll through the song list before. "I'd rather not embarrass him in such a way."

Geez, how do people do this? How do they deal with people who can't just, you know, live.

"It's not about being embarrassed or not, Jon. It's about having fun. You have heard about fun, right? I know that right now if the dude I liked was throwing a party, wouldn't matter if I was good at it or not. I'd be dancing with him. I'd be having fun with him."

There are other means of having fun, Tommy. Reading can be fun. Or conducting research. Though at least in some point Tommy is right: Jon would like to spent some time with Tony at his party. Though at the same time he doesn't know if the feeling is mutual.

He clenches his hands together tightly and lets his eyes drop further. "Tony may have an issue with it. I... I don't think he's comfortable with public displays of affection. He hardly lets me touch his hand when someone might be looking." And Jon still somewhat worries it might be him who's the problem.

“That... somehow doesn’t surprise me,” Tommy sighs and considers it thoughtfully. His arms cross over his chest as he tries to process that. Honestly, he wasn’t big on them either, or so he thought.

“Okay then, dance with me.”

You can still have fun at his party, Jon.

While Jon tries to not appear too disappointed by the matter, it remains obvious enough in his posture. The simple fact that Tony remains reluctant to be open about what is between them is disheartening and of course makes Jon wonder if the issue is him.

He lets out a heavy sigh, then glances over to Tommy and from Tommy over to the remote again.

“Only if you sing with me.”

Maybe Jon needed to make the first move on openness. Listen, Tommy was so in his corner, he would help this nerd help himself. He's so tired of watching nerds not going for what they want. Geez, what was up with that.

"Dance first, see if you like it and you thank me. THEN I will sing with you?"

He holds a hand out for Jon. Come on, let him teach you this so Tony can see you and get interested.

Jon may not think this is going to do him any favors, but he does get up with a soft sigh and a nod anyway, accepting the offered hand that he knows will only lead him to his own humiliation.

But maybe it's fine if he leaves afterwards.

"It's alright." He says. "We don't have to sing. I know people don't enjoy that."

"I just don't think it's right for me to inflict it on other people," Tommy counters as he guides Jon to the dance floor.

"Okay, first rule, we're going to start with upper body and move down. Because honestly, don't wanna trip you up."

“Which is my reason to rather avoid dancing.” Jon counters, yet still harbors little intention to force Tommy to do something he doesn’t want to do.

He gives a small sigh once they reach the designated dance floor and inclines his head slightly at Tommy. “Please, I- I know what to do in theory. I’m just.... Bad at it?”

Oh. Tommy stops and frowns just short of the dance floor.

"Okay, maybe go find Tony and talk to him. He's not always the greatest but it happens," Tommy sighs.

Jon gives Tommy a quietly wondering look when he stops and Tommy's frown is met by the Archivist slightly tilting his head to the side while considering the younger man's words.

Then, Jon offers a little smile. "Can I ask if you enjoy dancing, Tommy?" A very carefully crafted question that won't force Tommy to actually answer what Jon is inquiring about.

“I love it,” Tommy answers, his grin growing at the question. He even looks like he wants to dance right there. “No one talks when you dance. You just move and the music happens and you move and the world is simpler.”

No one talks. Well, there may be their main difference: Jon is a talker, Tommy prefers nonverbal communication, apparently. Though Tommy has become a friend to him and as such Jon feels inclined to do him that favor.

He gives a short gesture with one of his hands, indicating for Tommy to lead away. "Then let's not keep standing. I might learn something from you." And after that? Probably leave. This party is hardly a place for him.

Talking means opening up, vulnerability. It’s easier for Tommy to not deal with that.

“Nah, man, you didn’t want to dance. We can karaoke and then take you back to Tony or something.”

And Jon records those vulnerabilities to please some dread entity. But aside from that talking really isn't that awful. They are talking just now, right?

"If we both keep changing our minds, we will be standing here for the rest of the evening." He points out in a somewhat bemused way, but refrains from mentioning that taking him back to Tony would imply that he has seen the man around already.

"So. Which will it be? I am leaving the decision to you."

"I can dance on my own later," Tommy points out. So there you have it, singing with Jon.

"Just promise it's not a slow song we're singing."

"Hmm." Jon hums thoughtfully, weighing his head from one side to the other for a moment. "Guess that depends on the playlist. Though... I ask one slow song for myself. To... Warm up my vocal chords?"

A shrug. Maybe not the most conventional way of warming up, but Jon would rather not break his voice right away, thanks.

Fine, if he wants to warm up, then Tommy ain’t going to stop him. The guy offers a shrug and gestures to the machine.

“By all means. Make Billy’s machine feel useful.”

Jon gives Tommy a pleased little smile and a nod as he steps up to the remote. The search is finished quickly enough, given that Jon has been scrolling through the available titles before.

"The machine is Billy's?" He asks mainly because he hasn't known that and picks his title. "Guess I'm glad to learn that both of our worlds are familiar with Metallica. I'm dreadful at most pop songs." But if his voice is suitable for one thing, it's yelling and heavy metal. And Nothing Else Matters definitely counts as a slow song.

"Yeah, my brother is a fucking nerd," Tommy answers. He's pretty sure it was an Agrii gift. That said, Tommy laughs at the song choice.

"That's SO not a slow song."

"It's slow in comparison." Jon argues and takes the microphone from where it has been set up, offering a smirk to Tommy. "What you mean to say is: It's not loud. At lest not right away."

And he starts the piece. It may be clear quickly enough that this impossible man actually has experience at the microphone and knows how to use his voice.

Well, that means he’s a LOT better at this than Tommy is. He’s got issues with pace. But he does watch Jon intently, applauding when the man completes.

In Jon's defense, he did use to sing in a band when he was in university to make rent and Tommy may have narrowly missed that memory when he has been in the Archivist's mind. It's not entirely fair to compare their skills in this regard. But for all it's worth, Jon does appear more relaxed now.

"So." He says, turning to Tommy and inclining his head. "Do you have a fast piece in mind we can do together?"

"Who said I wanted a fast peace? I just don't like slow, lovey-dovey music," Tommy counters as he moves to the machine to flip through shit. He wants music to have energy to it.

And frankly, he doesn't much know what to do.

"You're sorta good."

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