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<Clover> October. The month seemed like centuries ago. All of the events between October and December blurred together into one beautiful mess, a combination of things Clover loathed and adored. When she closed her eyes, she saw flashes of Jersey’s dress and heard Athena’s voice, but she also felt the bass. The steady thump had sent chills rushing along her spine; the noise had gathered at the base of her skull and penetrated her eardrums. Nothing could have described the music, from dance music to rap music. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Clover loved the selection of music. She missed throwing her hands in the air and losing herself in the moment. But she hadn’t heard from Athena, and she hadn’t reached out to Athena. Clover’s world had fallen apart, caving in on itself until only a couple of people remained. Her life became Jesse and Jersey.

After exhausting herself in the buildings of Coastside, Clover admitted the truth. She needed another night out. She needed something beyond the walls of Limbo, beyond the mattress and the plants of Cerberus. Clo needed to find, or to build, something for herself. Why not a club? Why not dance music? Over a year ago, Clover wouldn’t have hesitated. That Clover had been broken and reassembled, twisted and forgotten; that Clover had died with June, Karla, Celine, and Eva.

For an hour, Clover wandered the streets of Coastside. She dragged the bottoms of her boots along the concrete and slipped between the buildings. She’d targeted warehouses, warehouses that reminded her of her last black-light party. Clo tucked her chilled hands into the pockets of her navy leather jacket and rounded the corner to the next factory, but she had no intentions of breaking into the building. There were too many guards and she didn’t have the smoke bombs necessary to escape the building and thwart the guards. Perhaps someone else had the ability.

In the quiet, Clover had more time to think about the rest of her evening. Jesse might have had plans, but Clover had nothing but another quiet night indoors. That wasn’t Clover. Gone were the nights spent at the Handle Bar. Gone were the rowdy nights with Vic and Kenny. And Clover desperately needed the activity. She needed something more in her life, and she wanted to introduce the same activity into others’ lives. The decision could have been considered a spontaneous one, since she hadn’t planned to pull her cellphone out and reach out to Jersey, but it could have been planned. Perhaps that had been her goal since she’d first entered Coastside. Some of the guards had been talking about the noise coming from the slums, noise that involved a heavy beat and a bunch of screaming, and that had been the excuse--no, she’d needed a reason--to reach out to Jersey and Jesse.

Jersey, there might be another black-light party in Stag Heath. Do you want to go? I don’t want to fall into a rut. I can’t go back to how I was before. I thought I could drag Jesse too. I would invite Athena, but I haven’t heard from her since she told me about her relationship issues. That’s not the point. Come with me to the slums, please? We’ll have a great time. You could bring Lucas!

Jesse, can you meet me around the slums in Stag Heath? Wear something you wouldn’t mind getting ruined.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse couldn’t believe how free he felt. How long had he been carrying around that awful darkness? Maybe it had been there all along; ever since Phoenix had fed him her poisonous black blood. Maybe the curse had come from that *****, something dormant within her blood. It wouldn’t surprise Jesse, even, if it was something that she suffered from herself. She had, at one point, killed herself. What was the reason she had given? He couldn’t remember, now, but he remembered thinking she was fucked up, to have abandoned her family like that.

And yet he had done the same thing, hadn’t he?

Didn’t matter, now. Christmas had come and gone; he’d spent it with Clover, and had left only to give out some gifts. Gifts that Clover had bought. He’d heard back from Kaelyn, only - none of the others had thanked him, or wished him anything. Once upon a time, it might have upset him. Now? He forgot all about it, and focused on what was right in front of him. Clover. Rituals. Breaking and Entering - and a raid that, as far as he knew, was still going. It had distracted him for a couple of nights, but he got bored. And came home.

The rituals kept him occupied, now - he had a few syringes that had stacked up over the time that he had been out for the count. He liked to assume that someone had possessed his body over those months. It wasn’t him. It was someone else. He liked to try to forget about them entirely.

For a while he’d got caught up, counting what he had left in his lockboxes. How long since he had checked them? And then he’d summoned rare items, sending the Fae out to do his bidding. When the phone vibrated in his pocket, he checked the message only to grin. He glanced down at what he was already wearing; jeans, a plain t-shirt, and bare feet. Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he padded around the floor until he had pulled boots onto his feet and one of his old leather jackets over his shoulders. Rather than ask Clover where, exactly, he should meet her, he pulled out his phone and typed:

Summon me.

<Jersey> After work, while her lover was still doing his own routine, Jersey had strayed from hers and finally taken time to herself to begin to mourn the loss of her older brother as she begun to go through his belongings. In the old West Tower apartment that she rented out to Lucas, her thrall who had been a party boy from Harper Rock University, she sat on the floor in the closet and looked at pieces of the past that didn’t make any sense to her. There were pictures of Austin Evans and a brunette Jersey, whose name was really Marilee Evans, laughing in the snow at various ages and pictures of the two siblings making faces. Those were things that she packed into a box that would be sent to storage.

Other things, such as his clothes that she didn’t want to keep, or Lucas wasn’t interested in, were folded neatly and placed into a box marked for charity. It was a slow process that she didn’t mind going through; Clover had helped her find a locket that had been sealed some time ago, a note from her brother telling her that it contained some of her parent’s ashes. It sat at the bottom of her underwear drawer in the cabin, untouched from the day she’d found it. To her left, Jersey heard the sound of crunching potato chips as Lucas approached and the male looked down at her.

He held out her cell phone. “It’s from that hot chick with the tattoos. The black haired one. Whatshername.” Lucas had a way of speaking that had Jersey giving him a look. “Clover.” She clarified, “And one of these nights, I dare you to call her whatshername.” Tapping her phone screen, knowing damn well that he knew her name, Jersey began to read and the grin on his lips spread. “So, we gonna par-tay tonight?” A dance was done in the doorway as Jersey got to her feet and dusted off the seat of her shorts. “We gotta celebrate you getting hitched soon with some shots.” Eyeing her thrall, the blonde felt her lips twitch in mild amusement as she walked out of the closet,
“Get dressed in something you don’t mind ruined, shots will be done by you and I’m not carrying you home, and I’m going to go text Peter.”

She looked down at her own outfit and remembered how out of place she’d looked last time in a dress that had been comfortable, but then ruined. Texting Clover, Jersey simply sent, We’ll be there soon. I’m showering afterwards at your place. Not tracking that paint into my home. before she scrolled down to Peter’s name and sent one to him, explaining what was going. While she still wasn’t one to go out partying, Jersey had learned that she enjoyed going out every now and then to have a good time with Clover. When the text was sent, the blonde looked up to see Lucas coming out of his bedroom wearing black jeans and a muscle shirt that was bound to glow in the dark.

“Let’s get going.” Jersey opened the front door, “Grab a jacket.”

<Clover> Her phone buzzed two times, each one accompanied by a smart whistle. Clover had already turned down the curvy road that led toward the slums. Instead of cutting across front yards and backyards, she took the longer route, the appropriate route. She hadn’t dressed for the weather, so she achieved quite a few stares. She’d already learned about wearing the proper attire for breaking and entering; the proper attire consisted of something distracting. So she wore shorts and a thin tank, with her navy leather jacket over top. The cold air had penetrated her clothing and went directly through her. The chill in the air had found a new place in her bones, making her muscles tight and her movements stiff. She moved fast, but not fast enough to arouse suspicion. Her times with the cold, lost in the refuge offered by the wilderness, had gone, whether temporarily or permanently, and had been replaced with something else. Her focus had shifted to rebuilding.

As she neared the southern limits of Stag Heath, she heard the steady pulse of music. The beat had her chest vibrating. She felt the bass as she’d felt the cold. The way the sound came upon her was the complete opposite of the cold. The bass flew at her and collided with her, clinging to her and overwhelming her. When she got to the entrance of the vacant factory, she had to pass a couple of attendees deemed bouncers. The inside of the building was dark, but there were flashing lights. The strobe lights revealed brief glimpses of faces and bodies. The interior smelled like perfume and cologne, with undertones of sweat, alcohol, and cigarette smoke. Abandoned buildings always had a particular smell, one that made all of the other scents, the stench of humans, bearable. Clo followed the lead of the other people and removed her jacket. She added the coat to the pile of clothing in the corner, but she had no intention of reclaiming the item. The strobe lights flashed, and then the club was cast into darkness once more. Without warning, colorful lights reflected off the walls and the ceiling. People were covered in body paint, some with designs and others with random splatters. They were mostly covered in greens, oranges, and pinks, but there were a few with blue and yellow.

When the people left the corner, distracted by the music and the chance to cover themselves in neon paint, Clover pulled out her phone and checked her messages. The replies made her snicker. She responded to Jersey first, but she simply said to meet inside, right inside of the door. To Jesse, Clover hesitated. And she decided against responding. She’d asked him to meet her, and he’d requested a summoning. Clo closed her eyes and focused on their connection, silently willing her power to work. With how many times she’d summoned people, she had better luck. Clover summoned him right into the building, his arrival timed in between the flashes of white strobe lights.

<Jesse Fforde> While Jesse waited, he played around on his phone, pacing backwards and forwards in the space of Limbo. There were a couple of others lingering, hanging around, playing at the Crafting table. Jesse left them to their business while he waited for Clover to take him out. Of course he expected violence and gore. He expected blood, maybe fire. He had his lighter tucked into one pocket, just in case. It was just as he thought about including his weapons as well - a sword to strap to his back and the gun holstered under his arm - but he felt that familiar, satisfactory sensation. There wasn’t time to collect his weapons at the last second.

The pounding bass was the first thing to grab him; his fingers latched around Clover’s arms as he landed, tension thrumming through his limbs as his senses were barraged by the sudden change in atmosphere. From silence, to pandemonium. At first, the bright flash of light had him flinching, until his senses regained their composure. The noise started to make sense. It was music.

Hot bodies writhed and bounced, the cold weather completely banished from whatever building they found themselves in. They looked alien, almost - amphibian limbs now clawing at the air in the bright darkness. Jesse breathed the music in, the bass vibrating in his lungs and clutching at his own limbs. It dawned on him - they were there to dance. There was paint involved. There was no violence, no blood, no gore. Just fun. A grin split Jesse’s face in two as he finally focused on Clover. With his hands on either side of her jaw, he kissed her. Once, then twice, he kissed her, before he nodded. It was as if she had anticipated what he wanted before Jesse knew that he wanted it.

He was out of place with his clothes and no paint, but he was in no rush to conform - not yet. Instead, he wound an arm around Clover’s waist, his hips pressed against hers, his body urging hers to move with it. He didn’t ask Clover to dance with him, no. He demanded it, without saying a word.

<Jersey> Lucas bled excitement like it was a second skin from the moment they stepped onto the transit in Honeymead. He chose not to sit, unlike Jersey chose to pretend not to know him as she took her seat, and instead danced in place to the song on the radio. It was obvious he wanted to make her laugh and Jersey gave him a small look before folding her arms in front of her chest. He would continue to dance until they arrived at their stop, more amused at the fact people were giving a man with tattoos covering his body more attention and strange looks instead of himself.

“So!” As they walked, he threw his arm around her shoulder and Jersey almost tripped until she caught her balance. “You don’t exactly scream partygoer. You’re more like Professor Plum and into books. Never thought you’d go to a Black Light Party. You been holding out on me, J?” It took her a few minutes that he was referring to Peter and she elbowed him in the ribs, “Parkman, not Plum. And no, I wasn't holding out on you.” She huffed, and then checked the address on her phone although she could begin to hear the bass line from the factory.

Lucas beamed at the reference lost on the amnesiac and he made a mental note to get her to watch Clue with him sometime. He remained quiet as they continued their way to the factory and when they reached the front of it, his eyes lit up excitedly as Jersey put her hair into a top knot despite the fact she knew paint would get into it. We’re here. She spoke directly into Clover’s mind as she shrugged out of her cardigan and held her hand out for Lucas’ jacket. “Who’s all coming to this shindig?” He shouted over the music as he held it out to her. Carefully folding her cardigan inside of his jacket, she added their things to the pile.

“Clover and Jesse.” She shouted back, and eyed the crowd before she felt Lucas’ hands on her shoulders as he began to bounce with the music and lead her into the sea of glowing bodies. Closing her eyes as she listened to the music, swaying to the beat a bit, Jersey reached out with her senses every now and then to determine if they were going in the right direction.

<Clover> In the seconds following Jesse’s arrival, Clo watched him acclimate to his new surroundings. She had to imagine that his arrival had been harder than her own. The front door acted as a filter, letting light and sound trickle in and out. People passed from one side to the other, but the passage allowed their eyes and ears time to adjust to the party atmosphere. Clover had summoned Jesse right into the foray. For some reason, she didn’t think he really minded. The audio and visual abuse had become welcoming.

With his arm around her, she swayed her hips from side to side. Even when it would have been more plausible to throw her hands in the air and jump up and down, she kept her body close to his. As the song changed, people erupted into joyous screams and the black lights came on, added into the rotation of strobes. Clo leaned in as if she were going to whisper and pressed a kiss to the outer shell of Jesse’s ear. She planned on going further, but she heard her name, and Jesse hadn’t been the one to speak.

“Jersey?” Clo stopped her motions and turned to look over either shoulder. With the alternating lights, from black to white, she had trouble seeing anything but jagged outlines and spots. “Jersey! Lucas!” Clover cupped her hands around her mouth and projected her voice, as if she were just another human shouting to her friends. Her voice carried enough, at least enough for another vampire to hear and trace.

<Clover> “I invited Jersey and Lucas too. I hope you don’t mind.” She made it seem as if she were hesitant to displease Jesse, but she’d already regretted making it a group gathering. With the current song, she could imagine Lucas making an absolute idiot out of himself and then Jesse would dismember him. And she would have to help. Clo must have been staring into space for a few minutes, because she went through a whole scenario of Lucas embarrassing them all, irritating them, and forcing them to kill him. “Lucas is her thrall,” she added quickly, trying to let Jesse know before the two arrived and Lucas heard.

<Jesse Fforde> This was something that Jesse hadn’t experienced in a long while. This phenomenon of fun. He was so used to just drifting between home and work, and indulging in some mindless violence every now and again… he was so used to boredom or depression that he’d forgotten there was a whole other world out there. A world with music - not music he’d normally listen to, mind, but the kind that he could feel his body wanting to move to - and blacklights, and ultraviolet paint.

****, yes.

It could take him a while to get back into the habit of just being young. Sure, he was a vampire who’d chosen to become the patriarch of his own bloodline, but that didn’t mean he had to become an always-serious buzzkill.

The music filled his lungs like oxygen, like fresh air after so long in the smog. He felt like one of his plants; wilting, thirsty, dying, only to suddenly bloom beneath the touch of something mysterious and magical. They would unfurl and grow and flourish beneath his touch. Now Jesse unfurled and grew and flourished beneath Clover’s touch, his body moving with hers as she leaned in close, as he felt her breath at his ear.

And then she was turning away, and he was laughing. She was calling for her friends. What made him laugh was the thought that Clover hadn’t broken out of the habit, either. Did she think he was still so fragile that he would care? He was selfish, yes. But he could have Clover to himself later - just as he had had her to himself earlier. There was time. What did it matter if there was a human involved? A thrall? They were surrounded by humans. Their heat filled the place, the beating of their fragile hearts only adding to the addictive rhythm. It didn’t take long for Jesse to shed his hoodie. To roll it up and toss it over the heads of the other dancers. He used Clover’s shoulders as support while he pushed himself up, trying to search for the paint.

Where was the paint?

<Jersey> In less than a few minutes, Jersey had already considered if it was a good idea to have brought Lucas as he jumped into the scene without any hesitation. It was obvious he had been to enough parties in his life and as he danced with the music, Jersey stood dumbfounded and stared. “You could help me find her first before going off!” She called and blew some of her hair out of her face, but swayed a bit to the music anyway as her green eyes scanned the crowd. It was an added bonus, she'd learned, being a vampire and her sight enhancing.

Upon hearing her name, she shoved Lucas in the direction it had come from. “Shake it that way.” In an exasperated tone, she wasn't surprised as he did exactly that and shook it in the direction she'd indicated before he’d moved further into the crowd and she followed. Every now and then, she was brushed against and Lucas didn’t seem to mind when it happened to him - paint had begun to gather itself on his body and flecks of it dotted Jersey’s skin.

“Clo!” She shouted again and squeaked as Lucas pulled her by the wrist out of the crowd as the lights allowed them to see a bit better. Upon seeing Clover, he called out, “Yo! There’s the Inked Beauty!” causing Jersey to slap her forehead, and he flashed a cheeky grin to Jesse, “Wassap dude!” Flashing an apologetic look to them both, “I don’t think he comes with an off switch with that.” She sighed into Clover’s mind before smiling to them both, elbowing Lucas sharply causing him to whine at her, the sound vanishing under the bassline.

“Hi Clo.” Jersey leaned up to press a kiss to her sister’s cheek, “It’s good to see you, Jesse.”

<Clover> She laughed and laughed. Lucas amused her. She hadn’t forgotten how she’d admitted she liked him, simply because he paid her a single compliment. And hearing another compliment, Clo reminded herself, yet again, that she liked him. He was a human that she couldn’t kill, a human that she chose not to kill. “Nice to see you too, Lucas,” she grinned. Her attention then moved toward her sister. Clo gave the blonde a one-armed hug and then motioned off into the crowd. To anyone else, she looked as if she were pointing off in a random direction, but Clo knew. She’d seen small glimpses of the glowing paint station, of the artists off in the corner. It paid to be shorter than Jesse. It paid to pay attention to the shifting crowd and the moving bodies.

“We can go get made up and fit in with the crowd.” Her arm dropped and she pressed her palm against Jesse’s right side. Had he also see the station? Had he found his own path through the shifting humans and their oversexualized dancing? If they were humans, they would have been covered in sweat, or maybe they would have been heated. They’d only just arrived, and they’d had so little time to dance. “Let’s go,” Clo practically demanded, “I can’t wait to get painted. We can do it ourselves too. I’ll draw a penis on your cheek, Lucas,” Clo grinned.

The Bloodhound Gang came on, an artist that Clo didn’t recognize at all. People surrounding them seemed to recognize the song. They cheered and held up their hands for the DJ. While the humans surrounding them were busy praising the DJ, Clo closed her hand around Jesse’s and nodded toward the direction she’d pointed. Even though she didn’t need to, Clo also took Jersey’s hand. She nudged Jesse first, and the four of them headed toward the paint station. Clo enjoyed shoving people out of the way, but the crowd basically parted for them. They had a clear, yet winding, route to the paint station.

<Jesse Fforde> Although there had been a thinly veiled warning - even just a head’s up - Jesse knew as soon as he set his eyes upon the thrall that he hated him. Inked beauty? What kind of ******* greeting was that? What made it worse was Clover’s reaction; the mere glow of her smile as she responded to the nice words, the way she teased him. It was ridiculous, really, to be jealous. They could just be friends; that was how friends talked to each other, wasn’t it?

No, okay, maybe friends didn’t call other friends ‘inked beauties’, but they did threaten to draw penises on each other. Regardless, Jesse didn’t want Clover painting anything on Lucas. He knew, then, that he wanted all Clover’s attention to be on him.

Aside from the initial twitch, however, Jesse didn’t look at all phased. He nodded to the guy, and then bowed his head a little further in Jersey’s direction. He couldn’t say that he knew the blonde well - not from his own interactions with her. He knew her through Clover’s mentionings of her, however, and he knew that he had a lot to thank Jersey for. She was the soft heart to his hard one. She helped Clover more than he ever could, he thought. Though that didn’t stop him from trying. He’d also heard about Jersey’s relationship, even if only snippets of it. Jersey wasn’t a threat to him, and his relationship with Clover.

But really, Jesse had no qualms making a meal out of the frat boy.

It helped Jesse’s plans, when Clover nudged him forward, and made him go first. The crowd parted, though only when they turned toward him. When they saw him, this un-glowing man splitting the crowd in two. Moses through the waves. Sometimes, this threatening aura was damned ******* helpful. Jesse threw his arm over Lucas’s shoulder; he forged ahead, taking the thrall with him. The girls would be following. They were all headed to the same place. He wasn’t worried about losing them. Leaning in, he spoke directly into Lucas’s ear.

“If you even look at her sideways, I’ll rip your eyes out of your skull. You want a penis on your face? Paint it there yourself,” he said, voice low and yet menacing with its constant rasping husk. The entire time he grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Me? Doing something wrong? Surely ******* not!