Event | Sinbrilee | Bacchanal

[ironwood]

Characters: Any and all!
Date: August 24 - 30th
Location: Sinbrilee
Situation: An ancient festival of an ancient city, all are welcome at the Bacchanal!
Warnings/Rating: Please label threads as appropriate.

Death and destruction cannot curtail the single most important festival celebrated by the denizens of Sinbrilee: The Bacchanal! The ghosts in and about the city have begun to gossip about high fashion and festivities, sending any that inquire to the Amphitheatre -- a grand, circular structure nestled in the west side of the city.

This structure bore the fall of Sinbrilee and the wear of time with dignity, having lost handfuls of archways and one long stretch of wall to crumbling decay. Despite this, it is obvious that the amphitheatre once hosted many a display and every more festivities than the mind can grasp. This was their solace and safety; here is where the people of Sinbrilee came to find the mind's escape from all that threatened them and their great turtle.

Ghosts have been busy throughout the week, clearing paths through debris and hanging great cloth banners of soft blues and greens to disguise the more blatant signs of its decline. Many hundreds of them shimmer and slid through the area, providing for tables upon tables of food, offering drink, and overseeing competition of sport and skill (some even denying death's non-corporeal curse to enter).

Here, well... Here is where the party begins!

Food & Drink | Music, Discussions, & Dancing | Wrestling & Competitions

Comments

[jirk]

You couldn't just let me think I'm the exception to your rule? I'm crushed.

[He tugs her towards the dance floor with all due enthusiasm.]

I think you need to have a few words with Bones about the statistical likelihood of me, in any circumstances, actually hushing.

[parallels]

You're always my exception to everything, I'm starting to learn. But you're the only one who can insult my taste and still get me to dance with you, it's a little unfair.

[She follows behind him, nearly stumbling a few times due to the height of her heels and wine rushing through her blood stream.]

Besides, didn't we agree I'm everyone's exception? I'm sure I can make you hush.

[Of course he said that about a different topic and she enjoys hearing him flirt and be playful, but still, she has to put out an argument here.]

[jirk]

[No shoes on the dance floor, Clara, gosh. Jim stops at the edge of the rug and completely without preamble turns and crouches so he can help her out of her shoes. Coordination is hard when you've had a few drinks, okay? He gets it.

Then again he's drank like half the bar at this point and is more or less completely sober. But that's due to so many years of hard living that the Fleet academy doctors basically had to wring out his liver.]

Don't count on it, sweetheart.

[He is so cheeky and teasing, okay. And then he tugs her out onto the rug.]

[parallels]

[Oh that's right, this isn't your typical party. She blinks a little when Jim drops down to help her out of her shoes and grips his shoulder for support (support and Jim Kirk seem to go together she's learning) as she steps out of them. Which is much better. Despite her height, high heels have never been her thing as fun as they are for the first fifteen minutes.

Then she gives him a soft smile.]

You want an exception? Getting to call me sweetheart and not having me pop one.

[jirk]

[He smiles at her, the expression just a little bit of a disconnect from his usual tomfoolery, and he shifts his grip so he can rub his thumb across her knuckles gently.]

I'll take it.

[parallels]

[she smiles back at him and leans closer, as if to affectionately bump her forehead against his as his position evens out their heights but then decides against it. Instead, she grips his hand tighter.]

So are we going to dance then?

[jirk]

We are definitely going to dance.

[But she's had too much to drink to be truly coordinated, so he settles for an easy sway, just moving to the music without really changing where they're standing.]

Having a good time, at least? I mean, you're here, right? That's something.

[parallels]

You make it sound like I never go out or have fun.

[She sulks slightly and follows along with his movements. For all her hesitancy and supposed dislike of dancing, she picks up the beat quickly and with surprisingly graceful movements.]

[jirk]

Oh come on, I know better. Fun doesn't mean the same thing to everybody, and that's, you know. It's fine.

[If there's someone out there who'd be surprised about Clara's dancing, their name isn't Jim Kirk.]

[parallels]

I like this dancing more than a club anyway. No uncomfortable shoes and not painfully loud. Better company. Better wine.

[See? She's been to a club, she goes out. And see? You get a compliment, Jim.]

[jirk]

I will definitely grant you the better company bit.

[He knows a compliment when he hears one, and they mean more coming from Clara than from most people. He sways in time to the music, content to simply hold her.]

How much did you have to drink, exactly?

[parallels]

Modest as ever.

[She looks up at him, eyebrows raised, come on Jim you can't be concerned on a party night!]

Only two glasses of wine. But it's been a bit, I think it's hitting me harder than it used to in Uni.

[jirk]

Modesty's for people who don't know their own worth.

[And ego's for people who don't believe it. Jim strives for the middle ground. Falls short sometimes (especially lately, all he's done is doubt himself) but he tries.]

Promise me you'll get some water after this, okay?

[parallels]

[She laughs, pulling her hand up to cover her mouth until her fit passes.]

I like it. I'm going to steal that that one.

[Then she sighs softly and nods, in the fashion that a petulant teenager might nod.]

You're stealing my job. I'm supposed to fuss over everyone.

[jirk]

I'm a captain.

[His tone is so matter of fact.]

I fuss. It's not like you've got the monopoly on it, Miss Oswald.

[parallels]

I'm an admiral.

[She replies with a matter-of-fact tone.]

And I'm going to fuss over you some day. See how you like it.

[jirk]

I'm pretty sure you've been fussing over me since the day we met.

[It's in her nature. And he doesn't mind it so much from her, anyway.]

[parallels]

Well. Fair is fair in fussing then. Equal opportunity.

[POUTS A LITTLE]

[jirk]

Hey, I have no objections.

[Okay, he does, and a few misgivings besides, but he could sooner grow wings and fly than say no to Clara. So. There's that.]

Equal opportunity fussing. My word as a Kirk.

[parallels]

Hopefully, that means both of us will at least end up some what functional and not too injured or ill or exhausted.

[She likes to be overly confident in her ability to take care of herself, but it often comes at the expense of taking care of others.]

[jirk]

I have not been injured or ill or exhausted since that whole-- you know.

[He still has nightmares about it. Jim's been hurt before, and badly, but never tortured. Maybe that's the difference, and he falls briefly silent, pensive.]

[parallels]

Yeah.

[She drops her voice and her gaze to the floor, watching her feet move with his. Dancing is no longer something that requires any thinking; they move together to the rhythm naturally. But her hand resting on his waist grips the fabric of his jacket a little tighter.]

[jirk]

[He tugs her in close, no longer caring about whether or not he's holding the correct form. Just rests his cheek against her hair as they sway to the music.]

Did I ever thank you for that?

[parallels]

[She freezes for a second, as if considering pulling away, but then settles against his chest. Her ear rests on his shoulder and her hand settles against his chest. She swears she can feel his heart beat through his ribs.]

You don't need to.

[jirk]

Says who? Maybe I want to.

[He 'hmms' thoughtfully and curls a hand gently in her hair, and then releases it.]