Closed [The Bolt Hole] Hooked on a Feelin' [Tove]

[Azcan]

6th of Autumn, 518. 22nd Bell.

Boy Wonder.

The nickname seemed to stick, and rightfully so because it was tattooed proudly along the lower part of the drummer's back. Perhaps it was a mark of his immaturity, but the Svefra aboard the Wayward Tabernacle encouraged the notion to the point where the ship's artist emblazoned it on his skin himself. There was no argument about the matter, no discourse between the pod as to whether or not it was a bad idea. No, Azcan was the Boy Wonder and it'd be known to everyone who saw him from behind. The drummer wore the name as a mantle, and when the moniker came out as a teasing breath from Desre's lips, the drummer's head immediately twisted in the direction of the voice. The Boy Wonder was wiping the remnants of rain off of the drum set him and one of the bouncers carried into an abandoned building in the outer edges of The Western Heights when he snapped to attention. He rose to his feet, his eyes at last settling on the Inarta guitarist before he asked,

"What's up, Dee?" The drummer hadn't worked at the Bolt Hole for very long, but Desre was so friendly and inviting that it was almost instinctive that they addressed one another as such. If the drummer thought hard about it (a poor habit for one clouded in drugs) he could make a fair comparison between this woman and the face Ionu wore in front of him. Had Ionu provided him a guiding post, pulled him towards his Favored as a sign of where to begin? The drummer didn't pretend to know Ionu's plan for him, but when he was setting up and playing in the Bolt Hole he felt... home, again. In a way, anyway. He was somewhat reserved, fearing not the outcome of connecting with his bosses, but his own trepidation. He shook the thoughts aside, his light brown eyes capturing Desre's gaze, with the full intent of keeping it there. Azcan knew of his poor habits, his drug abuse, his wandering eye, but he tried to behave himself around Desre, at least.

"Get those set up. Your set's up first. After, I want you to go around and... mingle a bit," she mused, a finger tracing over her lips. She seemed to have another thought, her features immediately drew to a purse before she reconsidered and started to turn. Azcan shook his head, stepping forward as he asked,

"Wait, you want me to open for you guys?" The drummer was incredibly surprised. Last time he'd stepped in after Desre and Desden started playing. The owners of the Bolt Hole were the front and center of their business. The incredible displays of gnosis they exhibited was only eclipsed by their hook, the execution of their performance when they didn't invoke their divine power. These two were living legends, talent that was so very rarely born in the world. Being asked to open for them, in Azcan's opinion, was a validation far greater than anything he would've thought possible.

"Uh, yeah. That's your job, dude," she teased, and Azcan's heart plummeted to the earth. He began to sulk, nodding his head. Of course they didn't consider themselves to be what they were. Fame and fortune didn't seem to affect the two Inarta in the slightest. Their hearts were in the right place, putting their love for the craft beyond anything else. Azcan felt like an idiot, but kept his thoughts to himself as he set about to utilizing a drum key to set each drum to their own tune. Diversity in sound was the greatest tool a drummer could have, and Azcan wasn't entirely sure of what to do. He fiddled with the key, trying to follow up on Desden's methods, but without asking, he couldn't learn it. He pursed his lips, letting the key down on the ground in front of the center drum before Desden's voice followed next,

"What are you doing? Just watch, kid. You'll get it better," the elder drummer said, long auburn hair covering his left eye until he brushed it aside, kneeling next to Azcan and taking the key from the ground. With his movement, he pushed the younger Illusionist aside, taking Azcan off guard. He twisted at the bolts that held down the drum's cover, slowly making use of the tool and working each tension rod in a diagonal order to their appropriate settings. The priest of Sivah worked quickly, but Azcan took care to watch the order and watch as he removed the rim head and cleaned at the interior of the drum. Azcan took mental notes, trying to capture the information so that the next time, he wouldn't need Desden's help. His cheeks flushed, he nodded at Desden before the drummer walked away without a word. While Desre seemed really friendly and kind to her employees, Desden was tougher, but got the job done. The combination of their respective personalities seemed to flow perfectly. Azcan went back and did what he observed to the next drum, pushing them into different tones. He'd test them after, using his metallic sticks and letting a single echo fall through the abandoned building. When he was satisfied, he moved on to breaking in each of the drum heads, ensuring the quality of sound before he set into place. People were going to join the fray soon, and the drummer was excited, if somewhat nervous for the experience of opening for the Priests of the Bolt Hole.

Outside, bouncers kept a long line of people from entering. Desden was heading to notify them that it was no longer necessary, carring multiple large baskets for the silver miza cover fee.

Around Azcan, the Bolt Hole had come to life. Massive tarps hid the interior from view, their silver surfaces surely meant to bounce off the illusions that the pair would surely let off. Hookahs were set into place in circular hearths within the ground, the bar a sleek, wooden plank held in place by barrel kegs presumably filled with alcohol. Holes were punctured in the surfaces, long taps protruding from underneath. Numerous attendants, clad in varying degrees of scant outfits and dancer's attire were visible, carrying trays rife with the lighthearted, but overpowering drugs that were sold within.

Let's do this, he thought, his body racked with pleasure. However, before he'd begin to play, he approached one of the attendants. He placed a gold miza into her hand, raising his fingers to his lips to shush her before he crushed a packet between his fingertips. This drug he'd seen before, bitter pills that were actually better served crushed and inhaled. The drummer raised his fingers to his nostrils, taking deep breaths to let the dust carry into his mucus membranes and spread throughout his brain.

When he sat down, his body was relaxed, his lips parted in elated laughter as people started to spill into the Bolt Hole.

WC: 1165

Ledger :

-1GM for drugs

[Tove]

The 5th Bell-

The cool ocean breeze whisked through Tove’s hair, the taste of salt upon her lips as water droplets embedded themselves within her thick hair and clothes. Not a day had passed without some form of precipitation, whether it be light or heavy. It had been miserable at first but Tove had adjusted to the change, the crisp air a welcome relief, the humidity haltered temporarily by the constant storms.

The rain did something to the sea, something Tove enjoyed quite a bit. Furious waves clashed against the rock, the horizon dull and grey whilst a light rain fell from the Heavens. It was like a moody painting, picturesque and beautiful. Despite the clash of waves, it remained peaceful in a way Tove had never been able to explain. Lucille could, but she was dead. Tove wanted to be able to explain things as well but she knew little of just about everything. The girl pulled her coat closer as the sea-sprayed cold salt upon her in the midst of its chaos. The breeze caught more than salt as it made its way to Tove however.

What appeared to be a small dyed piece of parchment had found itself pressed against a large fish barrel just two or three steps away from Tove, the corners held there by the weight of the net that had been carelessly thrown over the barrel.

“Hmm…” The parchment was red, too eye-catching to ignore. Tove felt herself making her way to the barrel without even the slightest of thoughts. She leaned down to pull at the parchment, turning it as she pulled it to her face.

"The bolts hole", she read out to herself, the ink smeared due to water damage but still readable. Beneath the name was a list of dates and locations, the most recent being the one that took place as soon as the night. The flier promised music and dance, along with other things Tove cared little for.

“A scam- obviously.” Tove huffed as she crumpled the paper with furrowed brows and shoved it into her pocket. It would be the first of many times she would scan the print before crumbling the paper, but eventually, she would find herself glancing over it one last time. That last glance would spark one of the strangest decisions she had ever made. She would decide to check it out, to see what was involved with such things.

The 22nd Bell-

’What have you gotten yourself into.’

The line should have been the first sign that Tove wouldn’t fit in. Never had the girl seen so many barely clothed humans, and though she herself disliked clothes, she was hardly comfortable to show That much skin when surrounded by the criminals that made up the population of Sunberth. She had dressed up whereas those around her seemed to either dress down or simply wear no clothes at all.

Two thick braids framed her sharp features, eyes as piercing as ever. The rain had caused some stray hairs to frizz up and escape her braid but for the most part, the hairstyle had remained relatively nice to look at. Lucille had taught her to braid, the Drykas having mastered the art as a pup. Tove then had often braided Lucille’s hair when she was too weak to do it herself, long silver locks intertwined beautifully. Tove was no master, she merely knew the basics, though it didn’t take a master of hairstyling to understand how to braid.

Bodies Danced in waves with the beat of the drum, their skin glistened as the light caught the thin layer of sweat and rain that formed on their bodies. Tove had never seen humans in such a way, there was no violence, no fighting, just euphoria that spread across the crowd like wildfire with each song that boomed about the establishment (If one could call an area sectioned off by tarps an establishment that is.) It was a party and the people of Sunberth seemed to know how to go along with it. Smoke from the Hookahs twirled beautifully above the crowd, the reflection of light caught between each silver platter that had been carried by numerous scantily clad servers.

It was beautiful and alluring, captivating and unique, and incredibly terrifying. Despite the partygoers around her Tove’s body remained stiff, her heart beating rapidly within her ears. The beat of the drum and the melody of the singer’s voice caused the ground to vibrate, the sound itself rattling Tove’s chest. It would be so easy to let go, too easy.

The cat pushed her way to the front, her eyes locked on one of the many artists who played the drum. It was a gift Tove would never understand, the ability to manipulate beats to create something beautiful. Definitely not a skill of the Kelvic’s but still one she found to be beautiful and honorable. Amazed eyes locked on the artists as they played their instruments, whether they be lute, drum, voice, or whatever else one could use to create the intoxicating atmosphere of the bolt hole. Unlike the other’s around her, she stood frozen, captivated by the music.

Ledger Change :

-1 Silver Rimmed Miza upon entry

[Azcan]

Music was the beating heart of Mizahar. Though some wished to believe that the world was fraught with only the danger and darkness of a world lost to the Valterrian, those imbued with the gnosis of some of the more whimsical Gods knew the truth of the matter. Dee mentioned it in passing, but it was made abundantly clear to the Illusionist when he saw the line. Everyone loved music, it spoke in a language that the soul understood regardless of race, place, time or creed. Music was the life's blood of the party and Azcan wasn't about to let down the patrons of the Bolt Hole. The drummer raised his sticks in the air, his lips curved into a wide smile as illusion began to pour forth from the depths of his connection.

His gnosis flared against his palm, the cool gradient of blues and silvers surrendering to the multi-gradient of a rainbow as the mark activated. The closest six people to Azcan would see the color dance along his skin, his hair suffused with gold and blue tones. His skin took on a vibrant glow, and the lantern light seemed to take a shine to it. The collective gasp of those people was enough to bring a smirk to the drummer's lips. The illusion dissipated quickly, the drummer winking at one of the more surprised women. Azcan's heart swelled with pleasure as his connection with Ionu shifted everything about him. He'd brandish his gnosis, wisps of white smoke rising from his drums. They'd curl about two of the guests, hugging along the curves of Tove's body, seen but not felt by the Kelvic before rising up and dissipating. The drummer struck his sticks against one another before slamming down his arms. The two drums in front of his body were struck first, the tuned instrument echoing sound throughout the enclosed space of the Bolt Hole.

The strumming of a guitar joined the drummer's beat, and Azcan shifted from heavy thudding against the surface to flighter, faster strokes against the numerous drums that surrounded him. Light brown eyes were flooded with pleasure, as the much more powerful illusions that the twins were capable of began to lick at the senses of the audience. It was obvious to see whom was affected when their nodding heads and dancing feet turned slow and their eyes widened with astonishment. The drummer loved how the various employees within the Bolt Hole interacted, how the strumming of the guitar was met with the banging of drums.

Azcan carried a tune relatively well, but when combining his talents with other people... he truly came to life. The drums burst music into being, the pounding of the leather surfaces reminiscent of dozens, or even hundreds (it was the purview of others to see just how many people came in) of hearts pounding against ribcages. Azcan couldn't take it anymore. He rose to his feet, letting one hand bang drumstick to leather as his hand moved the chair up and he threw it aside. His body shook as he bared his soul. The singer hadn't joined in just yet, a full chime dedicated to drum and guitar, an intro setting the stage as Dee took front and center. Azcan grinned at the priest of Rhaus as the trio of musicians began their play. While Azcan and the guitarist, known only to him as Maze played alone, the sound was pleasant, sure. Both were proper musicians in their own right, but Dee... she was on another level entirely.

The strumming of her guitar sent shivers down Azcan's spine, the musician keeping his beat, the pounding of drums that set the tone for the stomping steps. Bolt Hole dancers took to the fray, enrolling guests in their rhythmic pacings as the bouncers looked over to ensure that no one was getting too handsy with them. The drummer, in truth, didn't pay attention to lyrics, and fortunately, they didn't often come up. Instead, he followed Desden's lead whenever the musicians practiced for their shows. With the elder drummer handling matters behind the scenes, instead he took Dee's lead, letting the dulcet tunes of her voice run the show as he played in steep, heavy hits against the drum that produced a steady pulse and blanketed the Bolt Hole in tension. The drummer's eyes fell shut as he allowed himself to be taken to a different place, the world falling by the wayside as he heard Dee's long 'ah's pour throughout.

The music was meant to take on a visceral glow, with souls connecting to the sound and the message of the many Gods that poured their gnosis over her, and over her brother. Azcan was fortunate to know, in part, how their connection to their rhythms steepened, for with the beat of his drums sprang forth his devotion to Ionu. Rhaus wasn't far from his thoughts, either, but in the moment, there was nothing but the play. Several chimes of it coursed through him, his arms straining with the quick, steady force he invoked on the surface. Azcan was liberated in a way he could never be during the day. His heart slowly unfurled, his head tipped back as laughter poured from his lips noiselessly.

Dee's raised her hands from the guitar, and all of the music ceased. Her voice poured forth, a final 'ahhh' before she addressed the crowd. In the interim, Azcan was replaced by another drummer, rising from his seat as he and Maze stepped forth. The two backup musicians joined hands with Dee and the three bowed, only for Desden to replace the 'Boy Wonder' on the drums. Dee pulled Azcan forth and towards her, an arm looping about his shoulders as she breathed into her ear, "Go, now. Den's gonna run the show for a little while. You? You have an eye for the crowd. Let them know you and you know them," she advised the drummer before she released him onto the populace. The drummer was clasped on the back before he stepped forth, his eyes set upon a rather nervous looking woman who he'd seen in the crowd earlier. His illusions of smoke had carried around her but she never fell into the dance that the others did. He wondered to himself if she'd ever been in the place before. But rather than wonder, he'd ask her himself.

The drummer stepped forth and looped an arm around Tove's waist, a teasing brush of hand against flesh before he pulled away to address her,

"I saw you earlier! Surprised you didn't dance. Want to join me? I was about to try some hookah and get some relaxin' done," he admitted to her, his smirk devious as it settled upon his friendly face.

WC: 1128

[Tove]

The music was intoxicating. Filling the bodies of those who danced with a strange rush incomparable to anything Tove had ever experienced. Nerves buzzed throughout her veins, though no longer in a way that created fear but now with an intense euphoria. White tendrils danced around the Kelvic’s form. Her eyes bewildered as she watched the smoke dance around her like a being of its own. Her arm outstretched upwards to catch the smoke but it quickly dissipated into the air above. Magic perhaps? Tove hardly cared as a smile cut her features in half.

To say skin to skin contact was a bit of an odd sensation for the Kelvic would have been an understatement, the scantily clothed crowd seemed to swallow her up. Once again the girl was painfully aware of her attire and how her clothes consisted of more fabric than those around her. It was easier to question modesty when those around her were- well- modest. The lack of clothing had not yet lost its effect on the Kelvic. Her eyes occasionally drifting away from the faces of those around her to their bare skin. Tove watched in fascination as some of the crowd seemed more than happy to touch the skin of those who danced with them.

A female server walked near Tove with what appeared to be a booze of sorts atop her platter. “Want some hun? Our drinks are cheap but delicious. Two Silvers for Lightning Bolt, one for the Silk Bolt. I personally think you’re a Silk Bolt kind of gal, but I’ve been wrong before.” The woman yelled as she attempted to persuade the Kelvic to buy the drinks upon her platter over the sound of the music and the crowd.

“Ugh- I’m sorry, I can’t hear you!” Tove called back but the server simply grinned as she handed Tove a drink and held out her hand. “No, I said I can’t hear…” The server smiled and nodded, holding the palm of her hand outward as she awaited one silver. Tove gave up, dropping a silver into the woman’s palm as she held the drink. The server winked and strutted off in thanks.

The completely sober Kelvic raised a brow as she glanced down at the drink, ’If you paid for it I suppose you should....’ Without a second thought she took two large gulps of the drink, the smooth taste of vanilla spread across her tongue, the alcohol burn only presented itself as the fluid ran down her throat. Tove let out a loud cough before she took the final drink of the alcoholic beverage. A warmth spread within the pit of her stomach as The Silk Bolt settled within her. It was a strange sensation, one Tove had never experienced.

Tove had been so distracted by her newfound feelings that she hadn’t reacted to the brisk warmth of foreign palms against her waist as fast as she usually would have. “O-oh yes, I ugh…saw you as well! With the drums and the smoke, it was beautiful! You play beautifully. I suppose I was just in awe I suppose.” She stumbled over her words as her eyes grazed over the man, it was impossible to deny his good looks. That coupled with his talent caused Tove’s face to redden under his smile. That and the fact she had never consumed alcohol before only a few chimes before his arrival of course. “Um, sure?” The tipsy Kelvic took it upon herself to grab his hand, all discretion were thrown to the wind, “Lead the way!”

Ledger :

-1 Siver Miza

[Azcan]

While Azcan was already feeling fast and loose from his indulgence in the intoxicating tablet he'd crushed and snorted before his performance, being given the chance - no, permission - to be set loose around the Bolt Hole was another sort of freedom entirely. The drummer's employment at the Bolt Hole was old news, but his enjoyment of the place was not. Half a season he'd spent under Dee and Den as help, but it was made apparent when the drummer first played in front of them that they wanted more from him. Their marks from Ionu created a sort of kinship with the younger drummer and Azcan wondered more than once if the God itself alerted them to his presence. The Bolt Hole was home, and home he'd show it off as he led the lovely lass away from the makeshift stage and towards a hearth was that centralized. Smoke from the multiple hookahs wafted through the air and the drummer was glad to guide Tove over to one that was empty when they first set foot there. The Kelvic so easily took to his guidance, and it wasn't hard for the drummer to notice her intoxication. This woman (for Azcan couldn't tell what she was on sight) seemed new to the pleasures of the Bolt Hole. He figured it out pretty easily, from her full attire to the flush set upon her visage, to the somewhat dazed and confused sort of presence about her. Not that he minded it in the slightest.

Azcan was at the very core of his being, a people pleaser. Watching the flush set upon the expressions of beautiful young women was part of the reason he got up every mid-afternoon and the sole basis for why he left the Wayward Tabernacle and made Sunberth his home. The Svefra were quite capable of making themselves happy. They had their love for the sea, for drugs and for adventure that likely more than eclipsed the brief sorrows of the Illusionist's absence. No, it was Sunberth that truly needed the help. The Bolt Hole was so popular because such likeminded people had come together in an effort to raise the collective spirits of the city. But, in that effort, the masters of the Bolt Hole needed to keep its wheels turning, to keep it profitable and perpetuate the atmosphere. Dancers and attendants were helpful in that regard, but Azcan knew that he'd be a better fit. The drummer's fingertips danced along Tove's forearm before he turned around. He paced backward, keeping a careful eye behind him. He learned his lesson, and if one took a close look, there were heavy bruises on his neck, chest, and temple from the violent encounter the day prior.

The party must go on! No fist to the face or fingers on my throat are gonna hold me down, he mused as a particularly painful throb set across his senses. The pain that flickered through his body only reminded him that he needed to damp it down with... more. An excess of sensation. As another attendant walked by, Azcan turned his body, raising a finger to his lips and winking at the Kelvic in front of him. He'd take two drinks from the dancer's tray, letting her on her way. The Lightning Bolt poured down Azcan's throat in a whirl of motion, the searing pleasure of burning alcohol coursing through his body. He shivered, head tipping back before he placed the other drink in Tove's hand and leaned forward. The delights of intoxication were never far away, and the jolt of alcohol seemed to reignite his high. Clouded, red-tinted eyes held Tove's gaze as he leaned forward. Perhaps, too close, lips just shy of brushing along the Kelvic's own before he whispered in her ear,

"I never got your name, by the way. They call me 'Boy Wonder', but you can call me Azcan, if you'd like. Here, we'll take this one," he said, gesturing to the nearest hookah, which was, for the moment, empty. However, that changed quicker than he thought it would. As Azcan motioned for Tove to sit next to him, he'd see four people join them immediately. Their faces were a blur of colors, for in the moment, the intoxicated drummer only had eyes for the one he'd plucked out of the crowd. "Dude, you were amazing!" called out one of the four. Azcan couldn't tell which. He nodded in half-hearted agreement, reaching out with his left hand for the hookah tube. Immediately it was placed in his palm, the drummer offering a quick thanks before he pulled a deep rip. Smoke filled his lungs, his head tipping forward. He released breath with both his nostrils and his mouth, the three trails of smoke combining to form a massive, static cloud right in front of his face. He inhaled again, pulling the thick cloud back before dispersing it with a second exhale, to the amusement of his compatriots around him.

The drummer turned his attention back towards Tove, his light brown eyes suffused with new colors as he decided to toy with the Kelvic. He'd have her in the sights of his gnosis, his light brown orbs flickering gold, then a pure, milky white and at last a keen silver hue as he leaned into her to whisper. If she'd gotten around to telling her his name, he'd use it to attract her attention before saying,

"How do you like the Bolt Hole so far? Den's way better than I am with the drums," he admitted.

WC: 927

[Tove]

As the two walked alongside one another Tove couldn’t help notice the fingers that grazed the flesh upon her arm. Tove was the type to over-analyze such things, to fear the advances bestowed upon her by men and women alike. Things such as those complicated things - and how did she come to believe these facts - well stories of course. Her lips parted as she memorized the tales told to her by the wise, and yet she continued to follow the drummer. Stupid? Perhaps. Exhilarating? Definitely.

Tove had somehow retained the grace in her strides despite having consumed the 'Silk Bolt' she had been forced to purchase. It was one of the only things she prided herself on as she cut through the sea of hands and colors that surrounded the two.

The crowd and reflective colors became less and less clear with each step as they made their way to what Tove assumed to be the Hookahs. Truthfully, the girl had been more enraptured by the tone of his words more than what was actually spoken. He seemed to be the type that could charm a monk out of their clothes without even an ounce of thought. Or maybe he was simply pretty to look at? Tove allowed her eyes to graze over features once more. The latter was definitely plausible though Tove had never considered herself to be the type that sought after the company of handsome men or beautiful women just because of their looks.

Without as much as a warning, Azcan turned a heel, long strides halted by a momentary pause. Tove instinctively kept close to the drummer as he spoke with the server, her eyes locked on her attire as the two spoke. Now it felt like less of a fashion statement as much as a hindrance, the heat of the bolt hole growing more and more unbearable as the alcohol made its way into her bloodstream. Tove’s attention had been pulled away from the heat and back to Azcan held out another glass of alcohol.

“Oh- thank you…” He was closer than she remembered, each detail of his face visible beneath the light of a lantern. It caused her heart to rise into her throat as he drew closer, only to let it drop when he shifted his head to the side of her head. Nervous finger wrapped tightly around the booze as he formally introduced himself.

’How perverse must you be, he simply wished to speak to you and you had to make a big deal out of it. Stupid girl.’ Self-deprecating thoughts in Lucille’s voice had plagued her once more as she attempted to push back embarrassment and slow her speedy heart. If she could have simply disappeared into the sea of dancers at that moment she would have done so gladly.

“I’m Tove I think. I mean I know I am Tove I just…” She paused, her heart still stuck in her throat, “I’m just Tove is all I meant to say.” Clearly, frazzled Tove sought to distract herself with whatever sat at bottom of the beverage the drummer had handed her. The alcohol burnt her throat once more, causing her to clutch her chest and cough wildly. It took little to no time for the drink to form a small watery haze over her eyes as she took her spot next to Azcan, watching as the smoke twisted and twirled within the vacant space above his head. The smell of whatever was within the Hookah emitted a strange scent that was completely foreign to the girl but compelling nonetheless.

Once the Azcan finished inhaling the herbs his attention turned back to Tove, his eyes locked on her as he spoke. She was, once again, not listening to his words but more so focused on his appearance. A combination of attraction and intrigue-filled the pit in her chest, her eyes wide as she watched his eyes shift before her. The nickname, ‘Boy wonder’ seemed to fit him more and more. There appeared to be no end to his tricks.

“It’s- strange. I’ve lived in Sunberth for the entirety of my life and yet I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.” Tove leaned forward as if to make sure his face was actually there in front of her, “You’re eyes, they’re changing. Are you …real?” In a sober moment, the question would have been silly, but Tove was sober no longer and anything seemed possible “What is that smoke stuff that came out of your mouth, did it cause that? Your eyes I mean? Do it again!” A smile grew upon her lips as she leaned in to watch his eyes.

[Azcan]

Aboard the deck and within the cabins of the Wayward Tabernacle, Azcan was notorious for being an insufferable tease. He drew close, pulled at the senses with touch and proximity. It didn't help that there was the advent of alcohol, which for the purpose of drawing attention was the best of the social lubricants. The drugs that Azcan partook in - uppers and head highs that split the senses - did not often take to an aphrodisiac nature. Rather, it was Azcan's greedy, pleasure-seeking inner nature that pulled him towards the want of the flesh. When alcohol was involved, however, all of that went out the window. Azcan was a creature enslaved to the five senses, and it was with his indulgences in Illusionism and his ability to warp those senses that he truly became a tease. He watched the woman as her demeanor seemed to shift. More and more it seemed as if she were heated, a flush even cascaded upon her features as evidence of the matter.

It doesn't help that she's dressed for the Winter, he mused inwardly, very well aware of the woman's attire. Azcan wasn't prone to such displays of attire. Black breeches hugged the curves of his waist and kept in place with suspenders. His feet were covered by simple shoes meant only to protect from a floor he knew would eventually be rampant with broken glass and the flaming embers of abandoned hookah coals or some form of smoking gear. Den's music, just as Dee's brought the place to life and Azcan was more than glad to share the evening with Tove and the four compatriots who tossed their respective hookah tubes between themselves. Azcan kept hold of the one he was given, taking yet another deep pull into his lungs before passing it to Tove. He didn't release his breath, instead, he raised his hands to his lips and releasing the smoke through an opening between his digits. It rose as if emerging from a chimney, before Azcan unraveled his fingers and the rest of it dispersed in a hefty cloud. The drummer didn't explain to Tove how to use the hookah, since it seemed that she scarcely paid attention to his words at all. She seemed struck by the presence of him, far more transfixed with the powers of his gnosis, the barest of display meant to amuse and astonish and it certainly did the job.

Azcan lifted his shoulders in a shrug, raising up his hand and hailing one of the many attendants over to their hookah spot. The drummer spoke plainly to her, requesting three more doses of the drug he'd picked up earlier which was promptly measured out and a tray provided to the Illusionist. As he was looking over the tablets, crushing his own into a fine powder, he decided to answer Tove's questions.

"You've never seen a Vantha before?" the Illusionist joked before shaking his head and realizing the joke was in absolutely atrocious taste. Azcan heard rumours in the recent past of Vantha being hunted down and slaughtered for Morwen's petulance, and insinuating that he himself was among their kind might not be in his best interests. He'd pluck one of the full tablets from the tray given, teasing the surface of Tove's lips with the tablet before he told her,

"A few of us that work here are touched by Ionu. His divinity brings light and joy to the hearts of many, but he also asks of his mortal followers to spread the delights of Illusion, as well. Did you enjoy the spectacle, Tove?" he asked before he shifted his attentions to the powder he'd formed out of his dose. He scattered the dust over his thumb, pressing it to his nostrils and letting it seep into the mucus membrane. Jolts of pleasure rolled up the drummer's spine before he collapsed against Tove. His motions very well might have pushed the both of them to the ground. However, he'd fall regardless and find himself looking up to the ceiling, where illusions and displays of glowing splendor exhibited proudly. The atmosphere of the Bolt Hole was divine, the pounding drums of the Priest of Sivah enmeshing with the vocals of the Priestess of Rhaus. Song and music poured through the place, resonating with the beating hearts of its patrons. Azcan felt heat rise within his chest as he asked the woman.

"Want to try this? It wouldn't be a proper first time unless you experienced... everything the Bolt Hole has to offer. Liquor, drugs, drummers..." he mused, barely withholding his mirth as he winked at the Kelvic, brandishing the tablet he held in his palm and letting its surface trail along the woman's full lips, teasing her with the promise of further delight.

"I won't force you, but... why else come to the Bolt Hole?" he mused. Dance and song were great, but the spirit of the place was release, boundless ecstasy, and indulgence in illusion and narcotic alike. In the Bolt Hole, one need not cling to their perceptions. The Favored of Ionu did their utmost to provide an atmosphere where such perceptions were chased away and new, foreign delights could overwhelm the senses instead.

Ledger :

-3GM for... more drugs

[Tove]

The smell of herbs and sweet juices filled the air in the form of transparent white wisps. The constant exhale of smoke left the empty space above the hearth a fiery haze, washed over the elegant swirls as it caught the light that emitted from lanterns. Laughter along with wheezing cut through the air, Tove’s eyes locked on the group that had joined the drummer and herself.

The man who had previously addressed Azcan held the hose between his teeth as he inhaled the contents within the hookah, his eyes half-lidded as he pulled away. Smoke poured from his mouth in the form of O shaped tendrils. Tove stared in awe as the O's merged with the haze that engulfed the entire sitting area.

The cat scanned over the area on last time before she turned her body to face Azcan, repositioning herself to sit tailor-fashioned upon her seat. It was the most comfortable way to sit in her experience, and it only helped that the position left her looking rather modest and shy.

The hookah bubbled loudly as Azcan inhaled the fumes that emitted from the Shisha within, a trail of smoke escaping the confines of his mouth. It was as elegant as ever, unhealthy of course, but elegant nonetheless. Her lips parted as she watched him as he filtered the fumes in the space between his fingers. He was so...extra. Everything about him, the drums, the illusions, the devious grins. Tove had never met anyone quite like him though she imagined the other employees at the Bolt Hole shared similar traits.

Upon being handed the hose Tove's eyes widened, she knew little of smoking and what it entailed. She scanned those around her once more and awaited her turn before bringing it to her lips. Carefully - oh so very carefully- she attempted to inhale the fumes hidden within the hose. The taste of shisha was quickly replaced with the raw taste of smoke and coal.

"For the love of..." Tove choked as she clutched her chest. Her lungs felt as they had shriveled up as the fumes came into contact with them. A raw burn tore through her throat and chest as her body rejected the shisha she had inhaled. Water poured from her dilated eyes as she heaved. "I think...I think I'm dying." The statement was more so directed towards herself than those around her. The coughing hadn't lasted for long, a side effect of how sharply she had inhaled the fumes.

The Vantha? Tove knew little of the race other than that they had seemed to be quite unpopular as of late. Just enough to know the joke itself was in poor taste, though not enough to hold it over his head.

"I- yes. So that was you, the smoke I mean?" A sweet smile spread across her lips as she thought back to the wisps of smoke that danced around her. The smile faltered as he pushed the powdery substance into his nose. Never had she witnessed the use of drugs up close, though she had seen the effects of the more dangerous substances.

Plenty of men and women walked the streets of Sunberth in hunt for cheap narcotics and booze, Tove usually steered clear of such types. However unfortunate the sight may have been, they had made their choice, some going so far as to kill for a mere three coppers if they could purchase what the needed.

Tove watched as the drummer fell to the floor in his buzzed and stoned stupor. He seemed so content upon the floor, enjoying the sights of the ceiling. Tove repressed a laugh as she looked down upon the drummer, how messed up could one man get? Despite her own clouded up mind, she could hardly compare herself to his state.

Intoxicated and relaxed from the shiva, Tove merely blinked as Azcan ran the drug over her lips. Once again, she felt herself freeze beneath the warmth of his fingertips, her air stuck within her raspy throat just as it had done before.

"I don't know- I suppose it couldn't hurt..." Tove took the tablet into her hand, unsure of what to do with it. One of the men out of the group of four laughed, leaning over to the side in order to address her.

"Stick it under your tongue love, you can do it in different ways. Just takes a little bit longer if you swallow it." He whispered before leaving the girl to abuse the tiny tablet in the way that was encouraged by the bolt hole.

Tove placed the tablet on the back of her tongue, the taste bitter as it dissolved within her mouth. A chime passed, nothing. Tove wrapped her fingers around her seat subconsciously, occasionally drumming her palms against her thighs. Her clouded mind drifted off to the ocean, sea-foam being pushed back and forth against the polished rocks of the shore. It slowed her heart as her nerves began to flare up just below her flesh.

"Woah..." Tove looked down upon her fingers with raised brows, her eyes bewildered as she connected her index fingers. It was as though she had solved some ultimate truth of life in her own little head. "I don't know what's going on but...I think my face is falling off." She turned to face the flirtatious drummer, the mix of alcohol and drugs causing his features to intensify beneath the soft hues that bounced off one side of a tarp to the other.

[Azcan]

Oh, shit... that really did it, huh?

The thought coursed through Azcan's head as laughter spilled from his lips. His head tipped back as the effects of the tab he snuffed began to take front and center. His lips curved into a grin. In the moment, he didn't hear Tove. He didn't see her or the four partygoers that huddled with them in a circle around the hookah. No, there was only the pounding of the drums and the music it resonated within his soul. The flashing lights of Ionu's Favored turned into a message, Dee reaching out to the intoxicated Illusionist. Letters painted into the ceiling above, much to Azcan's surprise.

That's enough messing around! Your set's up next, was emblazoned on the ceiling, laughter spilling from the drummer's lips as he rose to a seated position. He looked over to Tove, who'd begun to step into a world of her own. When at last his senses latched onto the physical world again, he didn't hear Tove, but he watched her lips. Azcan wasn't much of a lip reader, but he could get the gist of what was going on. She seemed to be groaning out, and then her hands linked together, leaving the drummer entirely confused. He leaned forward as she spoke next, and could hear the latter part of her statement. Her face was falling off? That's what the drummer liked to hear. In fact, it was what he liked to experience. The drummer clasped Tove on the shoulder, leaning forward so that she'd hear his voice slip through the banging drums and haunting vocals.

"I leave you in good hands, Tove," he assured her before he rose from his position and flashed an easy smile at the rest of the circle. He'd give them a little bow before he rose to his feet. Tremors rocked the drummer's body, both of pleasure and anticipation as his thought dimmed. Red-laden eyes caught the sight of the empty space for the drummer. The music died down, with both Dee and Den vacating their spots and allowing the help to continue to sail the Bolt Hole through the night. Azcan was all smiles and confidence, his back straight, the light of the lantern illuminating his back, brandishing the tattoo for all to see. When he returned to the drums, he pulled his personal drumsticks out of his pocket, his mind elevated, his senses focused as wild desire gave way to the music that forever existed within his soul.

When Azcan took his position, the guitarist, Maze, followed him. Dee was replaced with a younger, but less talented woman. Azcan broke the quiet (at least... relative to how loud it could be) with the first bang of his drums. The rhythm he took was steady, the sticks each alternating and hitting the drum in separate, one-second intervals before his wrists flicked faster. Quickly he'd add drums to the mix, creating a steady, flowing beat that sought to resonate with the crowd. The guitar joined him, their respective rhythms created a complementary, haunting melody that sought to invoke a sense of fear. All at once, the Bolt Hole went dark. Apparations would flit across the eyes of the audience as the Favored of Ionu manipulated the show behind the scenes. Azcan did what he could to help, but his mind was solely focused, his wrists flicking the drumsticks against their leather counterparts. His foot pushed into the drum at his right side, letting a deep bass sound accompany the beat in sudden, startling bursts.

The singer, a woman Azcan had never had the pleasure of working with, let her vocals pour through the Bolt Hole, her throat an instrument in it of itself. Though with no marks from the Trickster, and no extraordinary talent, the singer's notes were less interesting to the drummer, and he let himself delve into his own play instead. The intoxication was prevalent about his senses, chills flowing through his limbs and surging throughout his back. The drummer found his breath growing heavy as music reverberated throughout the Bolt Hole. Around him the world began to sharpen, his play siphoning his energy and his high into a delight of focus and effort.

The darkness within the Bolt Hole erased faces from his view, the mob of dancers crashing into and around one another in a massive, moving silhouette. The place was alive, but the crowd grew smaller, a sign of Leth's passage through the sky for those who couldn't see it for themselves. Azcan and the two musicians carried their music through for nearly half a bell, alternating their rhythms from the chilling Songs of Spirits to an intense, dancing beat, and the Bolt Hole flickered to life again. Bouncers threaded through the crowd and reignited lanterns, illusions dancing against the reflective surfaces of the tarps as, for one final song, the Bolt Hole erupted into ecstasy, true to its reputation.

WC: 823

[Tove]

Reality. It felt like such a strange concept as Tove's eyes grazed over the faces that sat around her. She knew full and well that she was merely high, no doubt about it. The world around her appeared so different yet the same all at once. Colors, faces, music, objects, they all remained the same as before. Nothing around the Kelvic had changed, Tove had.

"Haha- you feel it huh?" Called out one of the fans over the loud beat of the drum, his voice mellow and silky as smoke poured from his lips. Tove shrugged as she watched the smoke escape his mouth. The group seemed quite adept when it came to the manipulation of the smoke and fumes they had inhaled.

Tove turned to face the owner of the hand that had gripped her shoulder, almost surprised to see Azcar off the ground so soon. His words melted in the beat of the drum, Tove's eyes no longer pierced into him as they had done before. She merely smiled and nodded in response before the drummer walked off to do his thing.

The drugs enhanced the sound of the music, the vibrations running through her veins as she placed her hand on the damp ground. Wooden floors vibrated, furniture vibrated, but never had Tove felt the ground vibrate with the beat of the music.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Rough hands wrapped around her shoulder, ones she thought to have been owned by the same drummer she had walked with. She had forgotten that just chimes before her new 'friend' had taken his leave.

"Hmm, oh yes. Amazing." Tove's lip twitched as she turned to face the owner of the hand, and though the owner was not who she believed them to be, the smile remained. The same man who had informed her of how to take the drug now stood over her with his group of three standing behind him. Half-lidded and free of care, the cat pushed herself up, thinking they merely had one more member to their party that wished to take her place at the hookah. "I'm sorry, do you want to sit down here?"

"Nah, just checkin' on ya, you've been swayin' side to side for a few chimes all wide-eyed and smiley." He laughed as he guided her over to his group of friends. "Though ya may enjoy lonesome highs, I figured you would enjoy some company." He grinned as they joined his group.

Upon joining the group, soft fingers wrapped themselves in Tove's hair. Her body jolted to the side at the touch, unaware of whose fingers had been wrapped around her thicks locks.

"Whoopsie Daisies didn't mean to scare ya!" A high pitched voice giggled. Tove scanned the group, quickly finding the owner of the fingers. A blonde woman with emeralds for eyes wrapped in silks that covered her just enough to be considered some form of clothes. Sweat glazed over her tanned flesh, eyes deeply lined with kohl and pigmented shadows.

"I- ugh- no, you didn't scare me! I just didn't know what was going on, I'm..."

"Tove, I know." The girl grinned revealing a set of pearlescent teeth. She must have picked up on Tove's confusion as the grin upon her features grew wider, "Hmm, I'm a seer you know? Magic in a way." One of the men of the group let out a laugh, elbowing Tove softly as he rolled his eyes.

"What she means is she has been eavesdropping on you and your friend the entire time you were talking. Seer my ass, Elsiv, y'know you're a shyke liar." 'Elsiv' huffed, her cheeks puffing out beneath the illusion of light. Tove blinked, confused by both scenarios given to her due to her disoriented state of mind.

"Damn you, I was attempting to be sultry and mysterious and you HAD to go a chip in." Elsiv's arms crossed over her chest as she glared over at the man who had called her out.

Half-lidded and dazed, Tove merely swayed from side to side as the two spoke, still enraptured by the woman -known as Elsiv-and her glow. A devious grin spread across the blonde's features as she caught Tove's eyes.

"C'mon Tove, let's ditch these buzzkills and go dance." Elsiv wrapped her fingers around Tove's wrists, pulling her along the crowd. Tove was merely floating above her body, dazed and confused, but completely aware of her own state of mind.

Elsiv, much like Azcan, was a force of nature in her own right. Simply on the hunt for fun. Maybe that was why Tove had a distinct curiosity about them, why her eyes naturally locked on them for a moment longer than they would any other person.

"So Tove, why all the layers?" Elsiv giggled, her hands wrapping around the Kelvic's coat. Truthfully, Tove didn't know. The Bolt Hole was nothing like she had expected, vibrant and wild wasn't a trait most businesses in Sunberth held quite as high. She had expected more of a tavern experience, not one of illusions and drugs.

"I -uh- don't know." Tove's face heated up as Elsiv giggled, pushing the coat off the poor Kelvic's shoulders.

"There, much better. Maybe you'll catch yourself a handsome man to warm your bed...or maybe a pretty girl, yes? Or maybe they'll catch you?" Tove went to grab her coat but Elsiv pulled her away. She would have fought the crowd to retrieve the article of clothing if not for the rawness of the experience. "Maybe the next time we run across one another I can teach you how to dress so that you won't look so nervous. It's cute though, the whole 'sweet and innocent' thing you've got goin' on."

Elsiv eventually faded off into the crowd, swooped away by the bodies that danced to the beat, though Tove no longer cared. Tove's worries had dissolved along with the pill she had placed upon the back of her tongue. She, like the wave of bodies that surrounded her, danced without a care.

WC- 1,006