[The guards offer no reaction to Des' banter, but manage to radiate a sense of hostility from behind their visored helmets anyways. Tough crowd.
The doors at the end of the carpet open into a narrow corridor that's startlingly dark compared to the bright lobby, particularly when the doors seal behind him, shutting out any remnants of natural light. Runner lights along the floor outline where he's meant to go, however, and the walk gives his eyes some time to adjust. The further up the hall he goes, the more a muffled sound of pulsing techno beats and shuffling feet fills the air, creating a bizarre feeling of disconnecting from reality.
Or perhaps it's more than just that, as a Wisdom check of 15 or above might tell him. Something seems to shift, and the sensation washing over him is remarkably close to the moment when one realizes they're inside a dream, but finds themselves unable to wake from it. There's a certain sense that reality is more transmutable, that things could flow readily from one scene into another with no preamble or context. And a very clear feeling of no longer having to adhere to the constraints of reality.
When he finally opens the door at the end of the dark hall, the scene beyond unfolds piece by piece, far too much to process all at once. The music hits like a tsunami of sound the moment the door is drawn open, and the sudden swell of neon lights is almost blinding after the darkness.
The club is, to put it in a word, massive, stretching back and back and back further than Des can see. And as far as he can see there are people: people packed densely together, arms up, moving in one giant flowing mass, dancing and cheering, and laughing beyond a red cordoned line which is guarded by another bouncer. Hundreds of people. Thousands of people. An impossible number.
To the left of that is a sea of tables, and on the far left wall, an electrically lit bar, with blue and purple neons dancing across it. The two sides of the room seem divided between chaos and relaxation, as patrons sit idly smoking at the tables or booths that are offered on this side of the red, and revel in sensual pleasure on the other. Joining the two is a very large thrust stage, that splits right along the line of the cordon, and then feathers out left and right. There is no back to the stage: it's simply an immense platform in the middle of an ocean of people. There are smaller platforms scattered throughout the room, occupied by dancers in outrageous costumes, both human and Shadow.
The whole crowd seems full of a motley crew of species, and people in all manner of clothing - businessmen, goths, slutty club girls. Some sit in booths that are crowded tightly against the stage, all of them drinking and laughing, and straining their necks to look up at the platform expectantly, as if they're waiting on something. In fact, this seems to be a pattern he can somehow sense - that everyone here is waiting, that there's something preparatory about all the movements of the crowd. But it seems to do nothing to take away from the sense of total freedom, and everyone sure as hell looks like they're having a good time.
no subject
The doors at the end of the carpet open into a narrow corridor that's startlingly dark compared to the bright lobby, particularly when the doors seal behind him, shutting out any remnants of natural light. Runner lights along the floor outline where he's meant to go, however, and the walk gives his eyes some time to adjust. The further up the hall he goes, the more a muffled sound of pulsing techno beats and shuffling feet fills the air, creating a bizarre feeling of disconnecting from reality.
Or perhaps it's more than just that, as a Wisdom check of 15 or above might tell him. Something seems to shift, and the sensation washing over him is remarkably close to the moment when one realizes they're inside a dream, but finds themselves unable to wake from it. There's a certain sense that reality is more transmutable, that things could flow readily from one scene into another with no preamble or context. And a very clear feeling of no longer having to adhere to the constraints of reality.
crank dis shit--> ♬ A Neverending Dream - CascadaWhen he finally opens the door at the end of the dark hall, the scene beyond unfolds piece by piece, far too much to process all at once. The music hits like a tsunami of sound the moment the door is drawn open, and the sudden swell of neon lights is almost blinding after the darkness.
The club is, to put it in a word, massive, stretching back and back and back further than Des can see. And as far as he can see there are people: people packed densely together, arms up, moving in one giant flowing mass, dancing and cheering, and laughing beyond a red cordoned line which is guarded by another bouncer. Hundreds of people. Thousands of people. An impossible number.
To the left of that is a sea of tables, and on the far left wall, an electrically lit bar, with blue and purple neons dancing across it. The two sides of the room seem divided between chaos and relaxation, as patrons sit idly smoking at the tables or booths that are offered on this side of the red, and revel in sensual pleasure on the other. Joining the two is a very large thrust stage, that splits right along the line of the cordon, and then feathers out left and right. There is no back to the stage: it's simply an immense platform in the middle of an ocean of people. There are smaller platforms scattered throughout the room, occupied by dancers in outrageous costumes, both human and Shadow.
The whole crowd seems full of a motley crew of species, and people in all manner of clothing - businessmen, goths, slutty club girls. Some sit in booths that are crowded tightly against the stage, all of them drinking and laughing, and straining their necks to look up at the platform expectantly, as if they're waiting on something. In fact, this seems to be a pattern he can somehow sense - that everyone here is waiting, that there's something preparatory about all the movements of the crowd. But it seems to do nothing to take away from the sense of total freedom, and everyone sure as hell looks like they're having a good time.