[ The atmosphere of the Last Dance is that of a lively bazaar, a set of narrow alleys not as warm as Springstar above, but not as chemical-and-blood soaked as the depths of Kowloon; it is both a part of the city and a unique entity unto itself, ruled by a small coalition of artists and occultists, who prefer freedoms from the Factions, but also do not devote themselves to harder crimes. A little bit of a hippy commune, with the hippies still willing to knife someone in the back. It creates an artistic environment of actors and culture that Set thrives in, and has patronized since soon after his arrival.
It's a place he likes to share with people he counts as friends, because his liveliness pours through him and becomes something animated, sweeter, when he is here. And he cannot bear going alone anymore, so having Hayame at his side means a lot to him.
He pauses, as she touches a hand to a bracelet upon her wrist. One he thought, perhaps, was a gift from her lover rather than a practical thing from Cetina. Color him pleasantly surprised, then, as Hayame's form shifts and morphs — the same way his had when he had taken the form of a fleet-legged jinba to join her and flee the things that had haunted him — he reaches out with both hands to seize her elbows and forearms, to steady her as she tumbles onto two legs. ]
— you're so short.
[ The words seem harsh, but he speaks them with a spreading grin on his face. ]
Hayame, by the end of the night I will have you dancing on these two new legs of yours! Come, come! Do not put too much thought into your gait, let your muscles move you as you [ walk like an egyptian ] follow my lead!
[ He whips the curtain back then, and presses her along, out into the dark-lit tavern proper. Outside of his personal booth, the ambiance is a little more occult, rife with esoteric symbols and the acrid scent of herb and hookah smoke, lounging figures behind more gauzy-satin public-use booths, and a long-faced woman polishing glasses behind the bar. Her voice a haunting siren call as she hums and sings and spares a fond sort of nod toward Set, and his companion.
He draws her from the darkness, and into the shimmering, layered lanterns and lights that decorate the cavern ceiling of the alley-shops and businesses that make up the Last Dance. The moment they're out of the tavern area, the throng of people encompasses them; a crowd of various peoples, species and genders, hawking wares and putting on plays right in the street. There's a beautiful and terrifying disorder to it, and Set immediately tugs Hayame to his side. ]
Stop me if you see anything you are curious about, though I have an idea where I want to bring you!
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It's a place he likes to share with people he counts as friends, because his liveliness pours through him and becomes something animated, sweeter, when he is here. And he cannot bear going alone anymore, so having Hayame at his side means a lot to him.
He pauses, as she touches a hand to a bracelet upon her wrist. One he thought, perhaps, was a gift from her lover rather than a practical thing from Cetina. Color him pleasantly surprised, then, as Hayame's form shifts and morphs — the same way his had when he had taken the form of a fleet-legged jinba to join her and flee the things that had haunted him — he reaches out with both hands to seize her elbows and forearms, to steady her as she tumbles onto two legs. ]
— you're so short.
[ The words seem harsh, but he speaks them with a spreading grin on his face. ]
Hayame, by the end of the night I will have you dancing on these two new legs of yours! Come, come! Do not put too much thought into your gait, let your muscles move you as you [ walk like an egyptian ] follow my lead!
[ He whips the curtain back then, and presses her along, out into the dark-lit tavern proper. Outside of his personal booth, the ambiance is a little more occult, rife with esoteric symbols and the acrid scent of herb and hookah smoke, lounging figures behind more gauzy-satin public-use booths, and a long-faced woman polishing glasses behind the bar. Her voice a haunting siren call as she hums and sings and spares a fond sort of nod toward Set, and his companion.
He draws her from the darkness, and into the shimmering, layered lanterns and lights that decorate the cavern ceiling of the alley-shops and businesses that make up the Last Dance. The moment they're out of the tavern area, the throng of people encompasses them; a crowd of various peoples, species and genders, hawking wares and putting on plays right in the street. There's a beautiful and terrifying disorder to it, and Set immediately tugs Hayame to his side. ]
Stop me if you see anything you are curious about, though I have an idea where I want to bring you!