Medusa and Mark: Dance the Night Away
Sep. 16th, 2006 01:15 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsMedusa decides she needs an escape from the mansion and ends up at Silver. Mark is only too happy to show her around.
Medusa walked into Silver, pausing for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The 5’11’’ redhead would have turned heads almost anywhere, but in Silver she garnered even more attention as she allowed her hair to sway in time to the music. After all, Mark had posted on the journal that the club was mutant friendly, so there was no need to rein in her locks, though it was obvious that people had never seen an ability quite like hers before.
And Silver had seen some strange mutations. Like the girl currently hitting on the bartender (a futile ploy to get a drink despite being underaged) who carried around a teleportation disc in her purse, allowing her to obtain things from wherever she wanted. More than a few wallets tend to be reported missing the nights when she comes. As the bartender handed Mark his drink, the DJ offered him a grin and a wink. He thought Larry should take up this girl and her flirting. Who knew what else she could pull out of that purse?
Years of working at Silver had given Mark a secondary mutation: the ability to easily swim through busy crowds and throngs of dancing (i.e., grinding) people. He was going to head back to his booth, but he saw that a few people were whispering and looking quizically at a young redhead. Whose hair was moving. Like they were fingers. Whoa.
"If you don't mind my saying," Mark began, ambling up to Medusa, "I love what you've done to your hair."
A small smile played across Medusa's lips at the compliment. "Thank you," she said with a slight toss of her head, her hair spreading out around her before resuming its original pattern. Though they had already introduced themselves on the journal system, it seemed only polite to repeat the pleasantries in person, at least the short version. "I am Medusa," she said, gracefully extending her hand. Years of practice at a variety of functions allowed her voice to carry well despite the noise that buzzed within Silver.
"Nice place you have here." Glancing around the crowded club, she was pleased with her decision to brave life outside the mansion for the night. She was starting to feel suffocated there and had wanted to go someplace where she could let her hair down - figuratively and literally.
Mark nodded in recognition. He'd read through the X-Blogs a bit and had learned maybe more than he wanted to know about both his co-workers and this supposed haven for young mutants. But she was new, so she could at most have only achieved the minimum insanity requirement. That was okay. "Would you care for a drink?" he offered, taking a sip of his.
"That was my next stop." Following him over the the bar she ordered a glass of wine, disappointed (though not surprised) that they didn't have any from Attilan and settling on a Portuguese Madeira. She didn't bat an eye as the bartender carded her, casually sliding over the ID that proclaimed she was 21 for this evening. "Is it always this packed?" she asked as she turned her attention back to the cute DJ.
"During the academic year, yeah," Mark replied, nodding to Larry to tell him that yes, it's okay to serve her. The bartender gave him the Eye, but Mark just chuckled. Anything for a gorgeous woman, especially breaking the drinking law. He turned back to Medusa. "We get a lot of the college scene here, so it's quieter during the summer. Relatively speaking."
Medusa could imagine what "quieter" meant in terms of the crowd at Silver and smiled. Excellent, she had now found a place to go when the mansion got to be too much. Taking a sip of her wine, she savored the flavor before swallowing as a tendril of hair snaked out to hold her glass. She glanced around, making sure that she did not recognize anyone, then relaxed. "I am not keeping you, am I?” she asked, looking over at the DJ stand just visible behind a rather large speaker.
Mark had to admit that what Medusa was doing was pretty cool. He never hid his awe when he encountered a particularly alluring mutation. At least he had the courtesy not to reach out and touch her hair. "No, not at all. I was just taking a break to mingle and dance a bit. And I always make sure that I have long playlists so that if I get side-tracked, no one will notice." He tapped his forehead. "Always thinking, I am."
She smiled at him, her eyes watching him inquisitively. "So now that you've seen mine," she said as another wave of motion flowed through her hair "how about showing me yours?" She was always curious about other's mutations, finding them beyond fascinating, and had no idea that her words could be interpreted in a completely different manner.
"That's not the first time tonight someone said that to me." The music playing was just your generic circuit, and Mark manifested that as electricity. Blue bolts of lightning crackled between his fingertips, and when he held a hand near Medusa's hair, the static attraction pulled a few strands up. "I can do a lot more, but this is really the safest in this venue."
"How marvelous," she said, admiring both his control and the implication that he could do something bigger. Her hair, almost as if intrigued, reached out to the lightning after it was pulled up and then fell back down once it had dissipated. Her eyes traveled around the room, stopping on the packed dance floor. "Shall we?"
Mark down the rest of his drink and held his hand out to Medusa. "It would be my pleasure." He led her out to the throng of people, carefully maneuvering between groups of dancers, gyrating to the repeated boom of the bass machine. He made it seem almost easy to get to the center of the dance floor. Placing one hand on Medusa's hip, he pulled her close and started to move with the music. He hoped they danced like this in Attilan; he didn't want to seem too forward with her.
In fact, they did not dance that way in Attilan, but Medusa had traveled enough to be familiar with the way Americans and other Europeans danced. A final glance around assured her that there weren’t any mansion residents or suspicious paparazzi types about, so she allowed Mark to draw her near. Closing her eyes, she allowed the music to wash over her, body and hair synchronized with each other, the song and Mark.
Mark gently ran a hand through her hair, his fingers dancing with the red locks. He sensed a certain apprehension in her, but it didn't have to do with their bodies, per se. She almost seemed to be on the lookout for something. Or maybe someone. An old lover she was trying to make jealous, perhaps? Mark hoped that was it. It was one of his favorite games, and he loved the reward he got at the end.
Despite her initial tension when Mark touched her hair, Medusa found herself relaxing as they danced, though the strands tended to slip out of his reach soon after he brushed against them. Several songs later, she finally came to a halt, a big smile on her face. "I did not realize how much I needed that," she said once she had caught her breath.
"Is Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters really that stressful?" Mark asked playfully as he and Medusa skillfully navigated their way back to the bar, where Larry was waiting with a couple glasses of water for them. "I've been learning bits and pieces from Amanda and the other SV folk, and I gotta say, that school puts Dawson's Creek to shame."
"Teenage melodrama from the late '90s," Mark explained, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. And if I've learned anything about that school from Amanda, it's that it's full of judgmental little SOBs who think they know what's best for other when they can barely manage their own lives. So IMO? Don't put any stock in what they say." He clinked his glass against hers and downed his water in a single gulp. "Cheers."
Medusa just nodded, making a mental note to use the Internet to look up the words Mark was saying that made absolutely no sense to her. However, she believed she got the gist of his message and completely agreed with it. "Cheers," she replied, taking another lady-like sip of her water. The evening had been more fun than any other night since she had left Attilan. Perhaps there was hope for this exile then…
Medusa walked into Silver, pausing for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The 5’11’’ redhead would have turned heads almost anywhere, but in Silver she garnered even more attention as she allowed her hair to sway in time to the music. After all, Mark had posted on the journal that the club was mutant friendly, so there was no need to rein in her locks, though it was obvious that people had never seen an ability quite like hers before.
And Silver had seen some strange mutations. Like the girl currently hitting on the bartender (a futile ploy to get a drink despite being underaged) who carried around a teleportation disc in her purse, allowing her to obtain things from wherever she wanted. More than a few wallets tend to be reported missing the nights when she comes. As the bartender handed Mark his drink, the DJ offered him a grin and a wink. He thought Larry should take up this girl and her flirting. Who knew what else she could pull out of that purse?
Years of working at Silver had given Mark a secondary mutation: the ability to easily swim through busy crowds and throngs of dancing (i.e., grinding) people. He was going to head back to his booth, but he saw that a few people were whispering and looking quizically at a young redhead. Whose hair was moving. Like they were fingers. Whoa.
"If you don't mind my saying," Mark began, ambling up to Medusa, "I love what you've done to your hair."
A small smile played across Medusa's lips at the compliment. "Thank you," she said with a slight toss of her head, her hair spreading out around her before resuming its original pattern. Though they had already introduced themselves on the journal system, it seemed only polite to repeat the pleasantries in person, at least the short version. "I am Medusa," she said, gracefully extending her hand. Years of practice at a variety of functions allowed her voice to carry well despite the noise that buzzed within Silver.
"Nice place you have here." Glancing around the crowded club, she was pleased with her decision to brave life outside the mansion for the night. She was starting to feel suffocated there and had wanted to go someplace where she could let her hair down - figuratively and literally.
Mark nodded in recognition. He'd read through the X-Blogs a bit and had learned maybe more than he wanted to know about both his co-workers and this supposed haven for young mutants. But she was new, so she could at most have only achieved the minimum insanity requirement. That was okay. "Would you care for a drink?" he offered, taking a sip of his.
"That was my next stop." Following him over the the bar she ordered a glass of wine, disappointed (though not surprised) that they didn't have any from Attilan and settling on a Portuguese Madeira. She didn't bat an eye as the bartender carded her, casually sliding over the ID that proclaimed she was 21 for this evening. "Is it always this packed?" she asked as she turned her attention back to the cute DJ.
"During the academic year, yeah," Mark replied, nodding to Larry to tell him that yes, it's okay to serve her. The bartender gave him the Eye, but Mark just chuckled. Anything for a gorgeous woman, especially breaking the drinking law. He turned back to Medusa. "We get a lot of the college scene here, so it's quieter during the summer. Relatively speaking."
Medusa could imagine what "quieter" meant in terms of the crowd at Silver and smiled. Excellent, she had now found a place to go when the mansion got to be too much. Taking a sip of her wine, she savored the flavor before swallowing as a tendril of hair snaked out to hold her glass. She glanced around, making sure that she did not recognize anyone, then relaxed. "I am not keeping you, am I?” she asked, looking over at the DJ stand just visible behind a rather large speaker.
Mark had to admit that what Medusa was doing was pretty cool. He never hid his awe when he encountered a particularly alluring mutation. At least he had the courtesy not to reach out and touch her hair. "No, not at all. I was just taking a break to mingle and dance a bit. And I always make sure that I have long playlists so that if I get side-tracked, no one will notice." He tapped his forehead. "Always thinking, I am."
She smiled at him, her eyes watching him inquisitively. "So now that you've seen mine," she said as another wave of motion flowed through her hair "how about showing me yours?" She was always curious about other's mutations, finding them beyond fascinating, and had no idea that her words could be interpreted in a completely different manner.
"That's not the first time tonight someone said that to me." The music playing was just your generic circuit, and Mark manifested that as electricity. Blue bolts of lightning crackled between his fingertips, and when he held a hand near Medusa's hair, the static attraction pulled a few strands up. "I can do a lot more, but this is really the safest in this venue."
"How marvelous," she said, admiring both his control and the implication that he could do something bigger. Her hair, almost as if intrigued, reached out to the lightning after it was pulled up and then fell back down once it had dissipated. Her eyes traveled around the room, stopping on the packed dance floor. "Shall we?"
Mark down the rest of his drink and held his hand out to Medusa. "It would be my pleasure." He led her out to the throng of people, carefully maneuvering between groups of dancers, gyrating to the repeated boom of the bass machine. He made it seem almost easy to get to the center of the dance floor. Placing one hand on Medusa's hip, he pulled her close and started to move with the music. He hoped they danced like this in Attilan; he didn't want to seem too forward with her.
In fact, they did not dance that way in Attilan, but Medusa had traveled enough to be familiar with the way Americans and other Europeans danced. A final glance around assured her that there weren’t any mansion residents or suspicious paparazzi types about, so she allowed Mark to draw her near. Closing her eyes, she allowed the music to wash over her, body and hair synchronized with each other, the song and Mark.
Mark gently ran a hand through her hair, his fingers dancing with the red locks. He sensed a certain apprehension in her, but it didn't have to do with their bodies, per se. She almost seemed to be on the lookout for something. Or maybe someone. An old lover she was trying to make jealous, perhaps? Mark hoped that was it. It was one of his favorite games, and he loved the reward he got at the end.
Despite her initial tension when Mark touched her hair, Medusa found herself relaxing as they danced, though the strands tended to slip out of his reach soon after he brushed against them. Several songs later, she finally came to a halt, a big smile on her face. "I did not realize how much I needed that," she said once she had caught her breath.
"Is Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters really that stressful?" Mark asked playfully as he and Medusa skillfully navigated their way back to the bar, where Larry was waiting with a couple glasses of water for them. "I've been learning bits and pieces from Amanda and the other SV folk, and I gotta say, that school puts Dawson's Creek to shame."
"Teenage melodrama from the late '90s," Mark explained, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. And if I've learned anything about that school from Amanda, it's that it's full of judgmental little SOBs who think they know what's best for other when they can barely manage their own lives. So IMO? Don't put any stock in what they say." He clinked his glass against hers and downed his water in a single gulp. "Cheers."
Medusa just nodded, making a mental note to use the Internet to look up the words Mark was saying that made absolutely no sense to her. However, she believed she got the gist of his message and completely agreed with it. "Cheers," she replied, taking another lady-like sip of her water. The evening had been more fun than any other night since she had left Attilan. Perhaps there was hope for this exile then…
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