You walk down the sidewalk, high heels clicking against the pavement in a steady rhythm. You rub your temples in annoyance and try to calm down by deeply breathing the chilling evening air.
Today has NOT been your best day.
Soon after you were charged with fitting five more appointments into your already-clustered schedule, seven of your clients dropped out to visit other designers. You realize your stitching has not been up to par recently, and one of your employees, and a good friend, Feferi, had suggested you take a vacation to alleviate some of your stress. Of course, you brushed it off, saying you were just in a slump and you’d get past it, and went about your business as usual, your stitches becoming sloppier and your focus continuously being lost.
That's when your best friend, at least she thinks she is, told you about a small club named Alternia.
Apparently her newest flame, this one called John, knew the founder personally, and, without hesitation, had invited Vriska inside. She had said it was gorgeous, even though it lacked the copious amounts of blue she adored. (You've always thought that warmer shades would suit her so much better.)
So here you are, walking down the street as you try to battle yet another headache. You’ve been getting those a lot lately and you wish you knew why so you could better prevent them instead of just popping painkillers once they’ve already started.
As you become lost in your thoughts, you realize your feet have stopped moving and you look up to see the dimly-glowing sign that reads, ‘Alternia.’
You suppose this must be the place, and you push open the door, a small bell signalling you entrance with a light dinging.
The club itself is alive with the hum of hushed conversations, a steady sound that is, in a way, calming to your ears. It’s early in the evening, and the dinner crowd is just beginning to fill up the place. While you don’t recognize most of the faces, your gaze drifts towards the so-called Cobalt Corsair herself, Vriska Serket.
You inwardly cringe at her outfit, eyeing the horribly-contrasting bright red stilettos that she has paired with a dark blue cocktail gown. She catches your gaze and waves with a grin, motioning for you to come over, and you sigh to yourself, wishing you could blend away with the small crowd by the door.
“Heeeeeeeey, Fussyface! Glad you could make it!” Her grin seems to stretch from ear to ear, “This is the guy I wanted you to meet. Fussyface, this is John, he’s amaaaaaaaazing! John, this is Miss Meddler herself.” You roll your eyes and extend a hand,
“As my friend here so eloquently stated, I am Kanaya.” John returns the handshake, grinning goofily, buck teeth jutting out from his mouth,
“John Egbert, it’s a pleasure.” You remind yourself to ask Vriska why she went after this particular man. He seems different than most, and, oddly enough, you catch Vriska shooting him a genuine smile, something you rarely see from her.
The three of you chat for a while, Vriska going on and on about her latest job in designing games. She gives you a wink and slips you a card with some exclusive alpha testing code on it, though you know you’ll never use it.
You’ve never been one for videogames, especially after your experiences with one of her projects, nicknamed SBURB. You barely even remember what it stands for, Super Bionic Underground Robot Battles, or something along those lines. You started with being blown to bits, but you quickly ascended to the top of the ranks and gave up when no one could challenge your strategies. You had then told Vriska to add something challenging into the game, but you never bothered to log onto gunnersArchnemesis again.
After listening to Vriska’s prattling and making small talk with John, you bid them a temporary farewell and take a seat at the bar, where a rather short, pale man is polishing a glass. You recognize him and greet him with a rather anti-climactic, “Hello, Karkat.”
He looks toward you and nods back, “Kanaya. Didn’t expect to see you here. The gamerbitch tell you about this place?” You roll your eyes at the nickname,
“I really wish you wouldn’t call her that.” He grumbles some rather creative curses under his breath and responds with, “You’re not the one she brags about to her family for being her weird fucking albino friend.”
You raise your hands in surrender and give a quick glance to the menu propped up between bottles of various drinks. You order a simple mojito and give Karkat the money, then glance to the stage as a blonde in sunglasses takes the microphone. Motion catches your eye and you look over to see John waving at him, that goofy grin still plastered to his face. The man on-stage waves back once before returning his attention to the entire crowd. He grips the microphone and announces in a relaxed voice,
“Ladies and gentlemen, for your entertainment, tonight I have finally convinced her to come out here. The one and only, Miss Rose Lalonde.”
That’s when you see her.
She walks onto the stage and immediately your heart begins to race. You feel your chest tighten and your breathing increases. She is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen on this entire earth.
Soft blonde waves frame her face, sculpting it into a fine blend of angles and curves. Her eyes are a striking shade of lavender as she gazes towards the crowd. Her dress, a long, black ensemble with a sash of pink around the waist, slims her figure and accents her curves. You find your eyes glued to her as she raises the violin to her shoulder and begins to play.
It’s a soft, soothing melody that seems to originate from her very soul. You feel your muscles relax as you are drawn into the music and your eyes flutter closed. The notes waft through your brain like the most alluring of aromas and you draw it all in, trying to preserve it as much as you can.
When the song takes a darker turn, you open your eyes and watch as she concentrates, her own closed and her painted black lips forming a thin line.
You sit there, captivated by her performance. When it concludes, she takes a bow and silently exits the stage, the applause nearly drowning Dave’s, you learned his name from Karkat while Rose prepared for a group of new songs earlier, voice as he announced that she was the last act for the night and that they would be closing in an hour.
You sigh and replay the strings of notes in your mind, idly tipping Karkat as you make your way to the door.
You never even realize that your drink was left untouched.