We're wide awake now, our eyes are wide open. We're running this world, we keeping it turning

[opheliac]

Who: EVERYONE ON THIS DANG SHIP!
What: IT'S A PARTTTYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When: last week of april before more shit happens.
Where: rischie
Warnings: PG-13??? alcohol is definitely involved, teens being teens, drunk people or doing bad decisions??? who is to say!!!





Fast Travel Thread Links

★ ENTRANCE.
★ THE DANCE FLOOR.
★ AT THE BAR.
★ GAME AREA.
★ DJ TABLE // PRIVATE WITH JINX
★ LOSER CORNER.
★ THE FOOD TABLE.
★ KARAOKE.
★ OUTSIDE RISCHIE.
★ WILDCARD.

Comments

[skaikru]

It's doubtful Clarke could ever get wasted enough to miss a sign that large. That neon and that flashy. It's obvious he's... struggling. That something must be wrong here, beyond the music choice. Something uncomfortable and personal, and — oh yeah, she remembers that he doesn't remember.

Some of her delicacy in approaching sensitive subjects is nullified by the rum, though. There's no attempt to pat his shoulder, no opening act of calming tones and soothing words. The desire to help is as present as her constant desire to lead, but this time it comes out a bit like a lighthearted challenge.

"So close your eyes. Listen to the music, or don't. And do whatever's right for yourself."

[worthallthis]

He shoots her an aggrieved sort of look. "I'm not closing my eyes in a room full of people." That's just asking to get touched. Also: "The music is wrong. It's supposed to have. To have. Horns?"

Even if he could dance to something else (can he dance to something else?) he can't dance to this.

Unfortunately, what he needs is an actual song out of the 30s to trigger the memory. Until then, it's just going to be completely (and frustratingly) out of his mental reach.

[skaikru]

The likelihood of them getting an honest to god song from the 1930's seems... slim. Everything here is 80's based, with the occasional Jinx-specific dance remix. The two most notable reactions to her suggestion are the abject discomfort with this entire situation, and the vehement refusal to close his eyes. And...

"Okay."

Everything is —

"Okay, then do you want to leave? Go out for a walk?"

This entire experience is overwhelming, no matter what era you were from. Clarke's drunk enough to grit her teeth and pretend it's all in good fun, but there's no denying the pressing heat of dancing bodies and screeching thump of music over the speakers is quickly becoming oppressive.

[worthallthis]

That sounds... like a relief. He's been in here for too long, he thinks. "Yeah," he says after a moment, sighing like he's defeated by the notion. Maybe he is. But going out where it's cooler and quieter sounds like a good idea.

Maybe it'll help jog his memory. Or at least clear out this frustrated feeling of not remembering something important.