Logs:Ceilidh and Fireworks

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Fireworks at a calmer part of the Ceilidh. There is dancing, merriment, with a side of some (carefully quiet and moderately veiled) shop-talk.

Cast
El Cid, Glas, Lohengrin, Niamh
Gamedate
2010-12-30
Log
[Festival] BOOMcrackleBANG!

[Festival] The night sky is suddenly broken by a dazzling array of color. Red blossoms into being with a *CRACK* and fades into shades of green. The fireworks appear to have begun in Princes Street Gardens, the first band on the docket striking a jaunty tune.

[Festival] The next round of fireworks are not as large, but create quite the echoing *BOOM* that gets one right in the chest. They explode in a burst of gold, crackling away into the night. The band seems to take this as a challenge and plays ever louder.

Most people have found places to settle in the park, relaxing on blankets and chairs as they share flasks of liquor or light snacks. The fireworks are being set off by a trained, but excitable team. The stage is placed in a prime location for acoustics, a few expertly placed speakers helping spread the sound. It's all local bands and artists, trying to win over some new fans.

Glas has found herself a comfortable spot in the crowd, both for the show and to take in the local talent; she's got something to drink, somewhere to be. This, after all, is practically business for her. ...Which is a good thing to have happen.

Niamh finishes her set filling in for the guitarist of the Baskervilles, a folk-rock band. She was, in every category but enthusiasm, unspectacular; in fact, not notable in any way, including the bad ways. Huzzah, adequacy! She seems to have thoroughly enjoyed herself, however, and now, flushed and radiant, moves to join Glas in the crowd, remarked upon by basically no-one. (She'd spotted her from the stage.) An especially brilliant pop of fireworks tears her gaze to the sky, just as she arrives.

It's a relaxing sort of evening, this one. Not quite the bump and grind and sheer thrill of other events. Perhaps even a bit more good for the family? Most people have spread out blankets or chairs to watch the fireworks and listen to music. As the Baskerville's setup, the MC steps up to read off some announcements and introduce the next band. He's largely ignored, however, for the fireworks team is having some fun with setting off shaped fireworks. Or what might be shapes... it's hard to tell.

So, as Niamh looks away to the fireworks, Glas waves her way, "Not bad, not bad. You were really getting into things up there." She is cheerful enough about it, in any case, and in fact pats a spot not too far, which she happens to have saved. "And now you get to rejoin the crowd."

Niamh's opinion of herself is brutally accurate: "I didn't make a fool out of myself, and I backed up the singer okay!" she announces brightly. "Pity Hans came down with the flu last-minute, poor fellow. He only called in half an hour before they were supposed to go on." She settles onto the grass beside Glas with a thump. "How's your evening been?" Since Jack got mauled by a spirit, anyway. It's been a few hours.

The music draws him like a candle draws the moth, the tunes simply irresistible. Sliding past the crowd watching the fireworks, he allows the soundwaves to guide him towards the spot with the best accoustics... which brings him to the spot where Niamh and Glas are sitting. He stops a couple of steps away from the two, slides his hands into his pockets to make himself stand out less and then, well, he simply starts to rock back and forth.

Glas grins. "That's about what you can ask for, right?" Still, definitely a pity about whoever that Hans was, though, "Much the same as earlier, though a little more interesting lately. There's nothing quite like watching all the people at something like this, right." ...And then... Case in point. Sloooowly Glas looks up to the man rocking back and forth near them.

Niamh looks up at Cid, her eyes electric, and a smile breaks across her face -- again. It's painted violet, then crimson, then a brilliant viridian, by the exploding lights in the sky, and it's also a miracle that her face muscles haven't fallen off from how much fun she's been having tonight. Except for the less fun parts, but. "Pretty sure I can ask for more than that... I can ask for you to do more than watch. Dance with me, Glas?" Laughing, she tries to pull the other woman back to her feet.

Niamh's smile makes Cid grin in return, especialy as the colors splash on her face. He offers her a polite nod, followed by another one directed at Glas. He doesn't speak though, just turns to eye the fireworks for a second before returning his attention to the pair. As they mention dancing, his grin grows into a curious rising of his brow, followed by him sidestepping to make space for the two. He then gets ready to watch by sitting down on the grass, making himself comfortable.

Perhaps her face has fallen off, and now they're only imagining it all. But--aah, Glas is caught, at that. She waves Cid's way, just in time to have her hand grabbed, laughing along, "Guess I was wrong after all!" She manages not quite to fall over in the process, but, "Sure, why not?"

There is a distinct possibility that Niamh has been replaced by some sort of faceless demon, while she wanders the streets looking for her features. But the mischiveous headshake she gives Cid, as he moves to sit, is all her. "Nuh uh -- this is a reel," she calls over the rising, pounding beat of the music, "Not a dance for only two! C'mon, join us." She's already starting to toe-tap and spin, and will pull Glas into her whirl if the other woman isn't careful!

Cid sighs and slides out of his blazer while standing up, just to start to roll his head around producing loud popping noises as tendons snap back into place. "Can anyone say no to such a bundle of smiles?" He asks nobody in particular before running a hand through his hair. And he begins to shake it, his dance leaking 'oh yeah!' attitude as he begins to attune himself to the music.

Glas is nowhere near careful enough to avoid a bit of a whirl, though at least she does answer Cid's question to no one, "Nobody who's any fun can manage it." It does take her a few moments to try to get into it, but once she does, the seating spot isn't safe anymore.

Glas and Cid are wise to realize that Niamh's Irresistable Dance is a 9th-level spell and no one is safe... wait, wrong system. "Yessss, /thank/ you," she crows, as Cid joins them. She shakes it, she shimmies it. She blends the steps of a folk dance hundreds of years old with some hip-hop gyrations. Tension pours out of her as she does so, literally losing herself in the music, at least for a moment.

Cid begins to chuckle and absolutely fails his will save against Niamh's spell. He too loses himself in the dancing, especialy as the Bee Gees begin to play. "You should be daaaaancing, yeeeeeah!" He says while rapidly spinning, comming to a stop near Glas and Niamh to hip-bump both. "Tonight's menu..." He huffs out before spinning away from the pair. "...a taste of the supernal." He stops, poses with his knees flexes and his back arched, finger pointing at the sky.

Now that's a spin--Glas keeps her feet well enough once she's started, though her dancing is pretty much all the moment, rather than any real background in it--and it really does help with the tension. "...I say all the time it's the little things, people just miss it," she offers wryly, and glances up to where Cid's pointing--probably nothing, but it's a natural movement.

Niamh's eyes go huge in her face, the whites very visible in contrast to the darkness of the evening. She knows Cid well enough to worry that he's being serious and literal and is about to cast something flashy in this crowd. Or perhaps, in worrying such, she doesn't know him well enough at all, but either way, she flashes him a concerned look. "I've already been bawled out by someone once tonight," she remarks in that nervous, hopeful manner of someone who wants to keep it that way. Glas' comment brings a twitch of a smile back to her face, and a nod of agreement.

Fireworks explode in the distance and thanks to the way he is standing and pointing, it looks as if the colored sparks errupt from his fingertip. Until Niamh speaks that is. He glances down at her, raises a cruious brow. "What? Bawled out? Someone unsatisfied with your dancing?" Cid shakes his head in response. "Critics. Do as I do, enjoy the opposition and let their jealousy feed you." He winks at the pair before returning to dance. "Works wonders, especialy on silvers and masks."

That's almost a moment--Glas can pick up the tension easy, no magic required, though she can't quite say /why/ it's all there. Speaking in code, as usual. "So you're that type, hm? Must take a lot of energy." Glas pauses, at that, "...Did you run into trouble earlier?"

"You could say that," Niamh remarks to Cid, looking /much/ relieved by the optical illusion, the grin that flowers back across her face leaving no trace of her former concern. Now she has more tension to dance out, and does so with a vengeance. She keeps her voice low enough to be dance-group only as she explains, "They... I don't know, Cid. You should be careful... they're not fucking around here, I'll tell you that. I don't think that man I met would hesitate to attach your ass to your eyebrows faster than you could blink, just for /saying/ that around him." Some tiny part of the woman, the rebellious part, would now pay good money to watch Cid try exactly that, but her concern for his well-being is sincere. "And... I don't know, Glas. We felt... something, in the hotter dance scene up the street, but it never came to anything. I might bring a magnifying glass down there tomorrow morning, and have myself a closer look at what's left." More than a few abandoned articles of clothing filled with their owners sweat, if nothing else, may be quite interesting under the right lens.

Cid slows down in his dancing to better hear, eyeing Glas and Niamh curiously while they speak. "I would like to see him try. Powers uncontested spiral out of control. That was one of the first things I learned after donning the iron gauntlet." He shrugs and after snickering, he slowly starts to speed up his groovin'. "And if I don't survive it then I wasn't good enough to stick around. Simple as that. As for the hotter dance scene... sounds like a certain kind of incantation to me. One I am really familiar with, because well, pandemonium tourist. I do not know about the clothes though. I tend not to dig in people's drawers, I consider it bad form."

Talk-and-dance is a favorite pastime of Glas's, so she does, able at least to keep her wits about her so as not to make too obvious the strange things they're talking about. "...I dunno, any guy who's enough of a bully to get that up in arms against something somebody says doesn't sound like someone who needs listening to." But something...? Hmm... Glas glances to Cid, too, and the iron gauntlet, the tourist--ah, that, "I learned about the same. You can't clamp someone down forever. But now that you mention it, it kinda does. ...Hey, I'll go with you. Maybe I'll spot something you might miss. You might say I've got a knack for... cerebral matters."

Niamh shrugs at Cid as part of an arms-behind-her-head-triple-bounce maneuver that leaves her looking more silly than anything else. At least she's enjoying herself. Her tones are back to their usual light, dry banter. "Just please, remember what we talked about in the cafe that one time... if you must contest, try to find a nice abandoned patch of world to do it on? Maybe on Mars." She winks, then nods emphatically at Glas. "That'd be great! But... I don't know about this being the usual suspects for pandamonium. I've said 'I don't know' a lot in the last minute, but the only thing I /do/ know is how little I know," yep, she's babbling a little, shaking off those nerves from before, "But the shimmer wasn't there... could be natural, not, you know," wild wiggly fingers as part of another dance motion involving passing her arms in front of her face. "Thought I might take a sample down to the labs at uni, if I can find one. Like a shirt." As for the unnamed sentinel, she looks more thoughtful than resentful as she contemplates him. "There's a difference," she says finally, "Between being a bully and being an enforcer. Not just legitimacy... I don't think he was getting any kicks off, he was just... being himself. Doing his job. Honestly, I don't mind getting an earful of warning; might save me a lifetime of trouble, if something went very wrong."

Cid taps on his forehead while smirking at Glas, right on it's center. "As many panjabi gurus preach, open your third eye and read the eddies of the cosmos. You can deduce the will behind the temporal insanity, the why. -If- it is what I suspect it is." And he swirls again, starts to rock his hip from side to side. "I would offer some help but Madame..." He eyes Glas for a second or two before a mischievous grin spreads on his lips. "...Emerald is certainly more skilled in the abstract then I am. Geometry is my mistress, harsh as she may be. But at least she is a concrete lover. Mayhaps you could find someone capable of correctly interpreting the relativity of time. It may allow you to glimpse back and see what happened first hand."

"If it's what you think... Well, I can confirm it anyway." 'How little I know', though--Glas is thoughtful about it, though it mostly only shows in the eyes as she manages a little spin of her own, and then moves to the side, "Nothin' to be sure about until then though, right?" But hmmm. Madame Emerald...? "I like it. I'll take being called a gem," she says with a laugh. "You should know geometry's cheating on you, then. It's the math I'm best with. ...But.. Well, if it's just a guy being harsh, then that's fine. But you've probably gathered how much I like people who bring down the hammer too quick, hm?"

"Mmhmm," Niamh acknowledges her gathering of Glas' opinions, the hum warm, nonjudgmental. Re: time, "I was there, as it was happening, and I couldn't tell," she points out, starting to enjoy the rather academic portion of the conversation, "But it's certainly true that hindsight is 20/20. I'll think it over." Just talking about time perception is getting her to zone out a little bit in that Acanthus way; her gaze is briefly lost to the sky, the spinning of the stars and popping of the lights. Without looking down, she re-handles introductions cheerfully: "And she's Madame Glas! As he is Monsieur Cid." She doesn't embarrass anyone by mentioning they've met before.

Cid abruptly comes to a halt to offer Glas a polite bow, all courteous. "Madame Glas. Allow me to introduce myself. As Lady Niamh said, I am known as el Sayyid of for simplicity's sake, simply Cid. A pleasure being introduced to you." Once done, he returns to dancing though, just as vigorous as before. "And to comment on your comment about hindsight... sometimes changing the perspective might give you the insight you need." He grins at Niamh before sighing. "I mean, surely time is more loyal than geometry. That ol' two timing girl."

"Hmmm, then maybe..." She'd have to think about it, though who knows? It could be something else. It's enjoyable enough but probably not the time, so, "Sure, sure, you have my number." And briefly, she stops in return, to politely incline her head back all formal-like. "And likewise. Though I usually just go with Glas." A laugh, at the joke there, and likewise she doesn't embarass anyone because really, it /was/ brief.

Niamh frowns fractionally. "I'm sorry," she exclaims suddenly, albiet without ceasing her dance, "I'm not sure I was ever introduced to you as anything /but/ Cid. el Sayyid it is, henceforth." Her promise is rather serious, and her pronunciation pretty impeccable; this is someone who doesn't fear foreign languages, no matter how trippingly they torture the tongue. Then she smiles, relaxing. "I do believe you're right," both about having Glas' number and el Sayyid's observations on the nature of perspective. "Thanks, both of you."

"Keep using Cid." He notes to Niamh with a grin. "It carries some additional... weight. A sympathetic connection to certain ideals Sayyid does not. I was just being pompous, to impress Madame Eme... I mean, Glas." He continues to dance for a second or two, avoiding any spins in order to think. "Use the shirts Lady Niamh. Then you will have the connection to the event to have a good look at it. M'lady Time cares about ties, just like M'lord Space."

"Oh, to impress me, hm? I'll have to remember that," Glas replies lightly, though Niamh's apology makes her laugh nearly as soon as she's done speaking, unable to hold it in too long. But at the thanks, "Anytime. And it's probably true. ...Quite a note for a new year, hm?"

"As you like, Cid," Niamh replies, drawling the single syllable into a dry tease, and laughing along with Glas; she's quite skilled at laughing at her own folly, it seems. After, she nods serenely at the former's advice, bobbing up and down in time with the music. "And -- you know, we do share an alma mater. Even if I can't please every grumpy man who walks by, I do know why I wanted a shirt, and it wasn't just for chemical analysis," she protests with another chuckle. When Glas mentions the new year, she pulls a flask out of her coat pocket and offers it with an easy flick of the wrist. "Cheers, mate." It's full of massively black, bitter tea. She may have forgotten not everyone likes that stuff.

"Mother Soul." Cid echoes before returning to shake it, shake it real good. "I guess things will become very interesting very soon. I came to Edinburgh to rock and roll, along the way I had to sell my soul but the locals are nice and they make me say I really want to be in this place." He mumbles to himself mostly, half-singing, half-speaking to nobody in particular while dancing. "Anyhow! How are M'Ladies tonight? Good I hope?"

Not just for chemical analysis, hm? "Cheers!" she agrees, and drinks a big swig of the bitter tea without any idea that that's what she's drinking. Her eyes bug just a moment but she does keep it down, and then cough a little, "W-whew! Ah, that's a way to wake yourself up!" she manages, having stopped there for a moment, laughing as she offers it back. "...Ah, right--I'm great, for my part," she says with a shake of her head.

Or possibly Niamh was just enjoying torturing Glas in the name of a wake-up call. She almost cries with laughter at the other woman's reaction, doubling over. If she's not careful, she'll pull a muscle, with all this dancing, chortling, and other physical merry-making. The chuckles turn into a wry, fond grin at Cid's words, but she lets him change the subject. "Real good, though I can't stay too much longer if I'm going to make the main event. That shirt may be higher priority, we'll see." The three of them are dancing to some folk rock on the lawns, in a huge crowd, under fireworks.

"Well, I am glad to hear. Especialy since I assume this means that you two got over the bawling and all of that." Cid says while winding down, exhaling deeply while pushing empty space. "Dancing is truly sublime." He notes to himself before messing up his own hair with a free hand.

This surely calls for appropriate retribution. Surely. For now, though, she can't help but laugh at herself while she's at it, stopping after a moment with a ltitle sigh. "...Well I'm over.. Whatever," she manages with a wave of her hand, "But I agree. Not the usual setting I'd like... But at least it's fun."

Its a party! Yeah, Lohengrin was late. Of course, he has this habit of walking everywhere that he needs to get over. He trods the green with with hands in his pockets and a scarf wrapped about his neck. "Well hello there." He offers to Niamh and Cid. His gloved hand comes out of his pocket to wave.. then he's looking to Glas with a tip of his chin to the lady.

Niamh smirks, and also slows with the music, which is finally finding an end to its eight-minute cover of Drunken Lullaby. "Yeah, it's no worries. He seemed like the forgiving sort, in a two-strike way. One warning, and then the /second time/..." she slits her throat with a finger. "Not something to dwell on further. Better to drink," she takes a swill of that black stuff, which is probably helping to explain her especially hyper attitude tonight, "And be merry." Toasting the approaching man, she both greets and asks, warmly, "Lohengrin! Good Hogmanay. Have you met Glas?" A helpful gesture at the woman in question.

Cid offers Lohengrin a polite nod before stepping aside, to make way for him to have free access to Glas. "Well, if the rules he applies to others are applied against him also, I don't see the problem with that approach." He notes to Niamh before crossing his arms behind his back.

Glas: the lady here. She smiles Lohengrin's way as he approaches and tips his chin, content not to make Niamh dwell on the matter and to favor instead the introductions--though, "Agreed," she adds for Cid before, "Well he has now. I'm Glas, as you might've guessed by now."

Lohengrin bows. It is a gracious gesture followed by a lowering of his gaze. When he straightens, he smiles. "I was given the privelege of not having to. Would that your eyes be moulded, I could drink deeply of that cup." He smiles. "So how fare you all this eve? It was a bright and festive day I should say."

Niamh shares a quick nod with Cid and Glas, as that conversation thread finally spins to its end. Then her full attention is on Lohengrin, distracted only by the feeling of blood rushing back out of her feet as she finally stops dancing; it's all tingly, and has her on tiptoes a bit as she shakes it out. His compliment for Glas brings a tolerant, bemused grin to her lips, and his question, in turn, elicits an answer: "Busy but well; it's looking to be a bright and festive evening, too. Yourself?"

Under the compliment Glas's smile grows a little wider in return, "Well, there's always photographs." her response is light, and she adds after Niamh, "But likewise. It's been a long day but it's a good time for long days. And festive, too, you're right."

Lohengrin quirks a brow. "Well. I could. But I doubt you'd enjoy a lens quite so close to your lens to discern the true color, hmm?" There's a chuckle. "I enjoy moments like these." He inhale sdeeply and looks around at the masses. "It says hope to me. The city needs it." Then he's looking back to Niamh with a smile. "I am well thank you. Still missing my items but I've replaced them." Indefatiguable.

Niamh rubs her hands together -- they may be gloved, but in the chill of New Year's Eve, they're still starting to catch cold. Exhaling slowly, she watches the play of her breath's steam on the air, rising above the crowd to mingle with everyone else's. "What Edinburgh needs, we shall provide," she intones rather grandly, before softening the moment with a smile in return. "I'm glad to hear that. A little sorry I missed your shopping spree... I would have been /very/ helpful." Her grin goes a little evil. One can only imagine what she'd have recommended.

"Hmmm good point," Glas allows, and finds she likes this matter of hope. "...Agreed with both. It's a good time for it, too." She grins between the other two, and adds, "But I think you're probably in luck for the moment--ah--" She glances down at the phone that's now in her hands, "Oh, excuse me a moment," she says, and ducks a little to the side for a few.

"Oh?" Lohengrin cants his head a little to Niamh at her 'suggestion'. "Well, I'll keep you in mind for the future then. And you as well." He nods to Glas. "So. I should probably regale you on a small point of order. It would seem there are a pair of chilled intrusionists about the city. To the core, I must add I'm afraid."

Niamh is having a difficult time staying serious, but Lohengrin has managed to acquire her complete and undivided attention at last. Her stormy gray eyes lock onto his warm brown ones, and she raises a single, eloquent eyebrow that invites him to go on.

"I happened to be meeting an old collegue of mine from around Wales and we witnessed, with Cid, two odd souls attempting to break into a business." Lohengrin gives a little glance about then couches his further words against eavesdropping. "They were frigid to the touch and fertive in their demeanor. Indeed, their touch rotted the door itself."

"Huh," Niamh grunts with all the eloquence of a neanderthal, thus ruining the mystique granted by her brow. "Intriguing." She also keeps her voice down, and steps a bit closer into Lohengrin's space, as well. It might be partially for the body heat. "What sort of business? What time of day? Did you get, you know, a /look/ look at them?"

Lohengrin is certainly warm. Its easy to come by when your core is fed by the Aether. "I tried.. it was.. inconclusive but certainly not normal. Anyway, it was late at night.Well after closing. Nobody was there."

  • > OOC: Lohengrin waiting on the details of those very questions.
  • > OOC: Niamh says, "Haha, fair enough."

Niamh nods, losing her gaze in distant thought. "Take me back there sometime, if you like. I'd take a gander, see if I can't find you a scooby." Scottish slang for 'clue' is the best slang. She uncorks her flask again and discovers, after a lingering sip, that she's almost out of precious, precious pick-me-up tea. And what's left is dreadfully cold. "I've gotta top back up," she adds, "And start making my way over to the next event. One you're interested in, I think. This /is/ more than a party, after all. Care to join me?" With an elegant flourish worthy of high society or ancient nobility, she offers him her arm -- the sheer over-the-top-ness of the gesture implying that she doesn't really expect him to take it, though she'd probably roll with it if he did.

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