Nexusville Homecoming Dance
TFA Slipstream
As dusk falls over Nexusville, it is apparent something is going on in Park Slope. The cool-toned, slope-sided tower that lends the small neighborhood one half of its name stands out from the dark, vacant buildings, with the glass-enclosed observation deck brightly lit, like a lighthouse signaling a port. Light beams out from the doors and windows of its ground floor lobby, followed by the sound of music.
From its exterior, one might assume the tower, for its generally pointy shape, the violet-tinged alloy of its structure, and the tinted glass of its residential floors, could have been Decepticon Headquarters in a time of imperial strength. The embossed and etched metallic surface treatments of the interior give the lobby a look of luxury and wealth that few would expect of a militaristic faction, and seem to suggest the former function of hotel, more than military facility. But, in Nexusville, this is just another curiosity, like the technorganic local fauna or the forces that prevent craft to travel beyond the mesosphere.
A group of bots is gathered at the entrance, perhaps debating whether they would rather be seen arriving early, precisely on time, or fashionably late. The song playing in the lobby sounds suspiciously melancholy for an event advertised to the Community as a celebration. There are other bots already inside, perhaps guests, or those nominating themselves members of the Party Planning Committee, who have arrived with additional supplies.
The Dance's organizer is in the lobby. Many who know her, have not seen her recently, as she too has been recovering from some difficulty, but she looks stunning tonight: freshly drawn dark lines about her glowing red optics, and metallic and interference paint details on the light-teal and violet base of her deco. She can be overheard speaking to another guest, "If one bot so much as brings up my difference in suggesting I didn't get things set-up in time, because I was primping - that Starscream is probably still in his rainbow shower!" She stops mid-rant to greet some guests.
"Hi," Slipstream says, "Good to see you." Her voice is pleasant, going into what seems a practiced speech, "Welcome to Nexusville's Homecoming Dance. Help your self to refreshments; they are straight ahead in what is usually our conference room. If you need to freshen up, washroom is down the corridor to your left. There's proper dance music up on the observation deck, just take the turbo lift there on the right all the way up." Her voice then takes on a hard edge, which seems typical of her, "And, if it's Starscream's shift as DJ, feel free to remind him he can't just play music he likes; he should take your requests!" She looks around, "And a few others are bringing music from their collections."
There is mingling in the lobby; removable accessories, weapons and small pieces of warm apparel are being voluntarily checked at the security counted and stored in the apartment's administrative offices. There is no dancing here, but some are moving in time to the music, which seems to be routed through a public address system and has a slightly distorted and tinny quality.
Slipstream calls out to someone, "We cannibalized the sound system in the media room to improve the sound system in the observation deck - or were you just making fun of my playlist? If you were a teenager from Earth, you would totally understand how brilliantly my selections reference their struggles!" The reply is not so loud as to be overheard, but Slipstream says, "Just because it's Homecoming, doesn't mean everything has to be jock rock! The important thing is that it have a beat you can dance to."
Abruptly, the the music in the lobby changes. There are a few laughs, from those most exposed to Earth culture.
The conference room at the far end of the lobby is somewhat quieter, the music muffled by the room's walls. Here there are tables lain out with beverages and consumables. One small table has a variety of roasted chicken parts covered in various sauces; and glass and plastic bottles of various colored liquids. The largest table features a spectacular display cake with chromed finish detailed with gold wire and leaf, as well as an array of goodies including oil cakes, and polymer cookies. A table to the side supports drinking vessels; dispensers, pitchers and carafes for various grades of energon, ener-tea and oil; and additives.
Slipstream explains to a guest near the door, "I guess you can take your treats upstairs, if you must, but I did make sure to set up the tables and chairs in the adjacent event hall. There's plenty of coolant and water upstairs."
There is is music playing within the turbolift. It would seem subdued after the darkly dancable or pop music of the lobby, but the instrumental is uplifting and possibly Cybertronian. For one from Cybertron it might begin to inspire a sense of homecoming.
The music of the tubolift is drown by that of the observation deck's dance floor, sounding from small, powerful speakers concealed above. But, the view drowns out even the pounding of the music. It has to be illusion: the view beyond the glass surrounding the observation deck doesn't look like Nexusville with its polymorphic architecture; it looks to anyone who knows it like Cybertron. And, before the windows, are bots of various factions and universes, bouncing in dance to the rock music.
[ooc: Everyone's invited. If you have questions, feel free to ask.]
As dusk falls over Nexusville, it is apparent something is going on in Park Slope. The cool-toned, slope-sided tower that lends the small neighborhood one half of its name stands out from the dark, vacant buildings, with the glass-enclosed observation deck brightly lit, like a lighthouse signaling a port. Light beams out from the doors and windows of its ground floor lobby, followed by the sound of music.
From its exterior, one might assume the tower, for its generally pointy shape, the violet-tinged alloy of its structure, and the tinted glass of its residential floors, could have been Decepticon Headquarters in a time of imperial strength. The embossed and etched metallic surface treatments of the interior give the lobby a look of luxury and wealth that few would expect of a militaristic faction, and seem to suggest the former function of hotel, more than military facility. But, in Nexusville, this is just another curiosity, like the technorganic local fauna or the forces that prevent craft to travel beyond the mesosphere.
A group of bots is gathered at the entrance, perhaps debating whether they would rather be seen arriving early, precisely on time, or fashionably late. The song playing in the lobby sounds suspiciously melancholy for an event advertised to the Community as a celebration. There are other bots already inside, perhaps guests, or those nominating themselves members of the Party Planning Committee, who have arrived with additional supplies.
The Dance's organizer is in the lobby. Many who know her, have not seen her recently, as she too has been recovering from some difficulty, but she looks stunning tonight: freshly drawn dark lines about her glowing red optics, and metallic and interference paint details on the light-teal and violet base of her deco. She can be overheard speaking to another guest, "If one bot so much as brings up my difference in suggesting I didn't get things set-up in time, because I was primping - that Starscream is probably still in his rainbow shower!" She stops mid-rant to greet some guests.
"Hi," Slipstream says, "Good to see you." Her voice is pleasant, going into what seems a practiced speech, "Welcome to Nexusville's Homecoming Dance. Help your self to refreshments; they are straight ahead in what is usually our conference room. If you need to freshen up, washroom is down the corridor to your left. There's proper dance music up on the observation deck, just take the turbo lift there on the right all the way up." Her voice then takes on a hard edge, which seems typical of her, "And, if it's Starscream's shift as DJ, feel free to remind him he can't just play music he likes; he should take your requests!" She looks around, "And a few others are bringing music from their collections."
There is mingling in the lobby; removable accessories, weapons and small pieces of warm apparel are being voluntarily checked at the security counted and stored in the apartment's administrative offices. There is no dancing here, but some are moving in time to the music, which seems to be routed through a public address system and has a slightly distorted and tinny quality.
Slipstream calls out to someone, "We cannibalized the sound system in the media room to improve the sound system in the observation deck - or were you just making fun of my playlist? If you were a teenager from Earth, you would totally understand how brilliantly my selections reference their struggles!" The reply is not so loud as to be overheard, but Slipstream says, "Just because it's Homecoming, doesn't mean everything has to be jock rock! The important thing is that it have a beat you can dance to."
Abruptly, the the music in the lobby changes. There are a few laughs, from those most exposed to Earth culture.
The conference room at the far end of the lobby is somewhat quieter, the music muffled by the room's walls. Here there are tables lain out with beverages and consumables. One small table has a variety of roasted chicken parts covered in various sauces; and glass and plastic bottles of various colored liquids. The largest table features a spectacular display cake with chromed finish detailed with gold wire and leaf, as well as an array of goodies including oil cakes, and polymer cookies. A table to the side supports drinking vessels; dispensers, pitchers and carafes for various grades of energon, ener-tea and oil; and additives.
Slipstream explains to a guest near the door, "I guess you can take your treats upstairs, if you must, but I did make sure to set up the tables and chairs in the adjacent event hall. There's plenty of coolant and water upstairs."
There is is music playing within the turbolift. It would seem subdued after the darkly dancable or pop music of the lobby, but the instrumental is uplifting and possibly Cybertronian. For one from Cybertron it might begin to inspire a sense of homecoming.
The music of the tubolift is drown by that of the observation deck's dance floor, sounding from small, powerful speakers concealed above. But, the view drowns out even the pounding of the music. It has to be illusion: the view beyond the glass surrounding the observation deck doesn't look like Nexusville with its polymorphic architecture; it looks to anyone who knows it like Cybertron. And, before the windows, are bots of various factions and universes, bouncing in dance to the rock music.
[ooc: Everyone's invited. If you have questions, feel free to ask.]