The Brightest Heaven of Invention Part 1

Posted on Sat Mar 4th, 2023 @ 5:02pm by Evelyn Reynolds & Oliver Lucas

Mission: Mission 16: Hysperia
Location: The Prancing Goat, Bar and Tavern
Timeline: Following "O, For a Muse!"
2013 words - 4 OF Standard Post Measure

It hadn't taken long for the piper's call to drift outwards on the wind and provide direction amidst the chaos. Now that they had an actual goal in mind, Evelyn found it somewhat easier to fixate on the end result and what it would require of her rather than the persistent saturation of bodies that kept getting in the way. Technically, Oliver was still leading, there were pockets where the crowd spilled outwards to block the pathways and Evelyn had no chance of seeing the shortest route out of the throng from a vantage that consistently saw her smack into people's chests. Her manners held out but she was growing intensely fed up with having to apologise to people who invaded her personal space simply by not allowing her any in the first place.

The sound of a fiddle, and the relentless beat of accompanying percussion, became almost a relief.

The Prancing Goat was aptly named, a stout and sturdy tavern of ample comfort that earned its niche amongst countless others by maintaining an open barn setting out the back, surrounded by tables and chairs and presided over by the lively three-piece band that occupied the small stage. Within the interior of the barn itself, the outer perimeter defined by a row of haybales, the stomp and scuff of dancing feet gave the area its primary purpose. Unlike the expected waltzes of the upcoming Masquerade Ball, the alternating lines and squares paved the way for a rowdy frolic that kicked up the dust and allowed it to settle on the glistening perspiration of flushed cheeks. Some of the songs had lyrics, and the crowd happily sang along with interruption only for the occasional cheer as the movement of the dancers demanded. Evelyn had not seen such a concentrated amount of pure, unfettered joy and acceptance in a very long time.

"Well, this is certainly the place."

Oliver didn't answer at first. His eyes were scanning what was unfolding in front of them. The movements, the synchronicity, the rhythm...

"I...don't know the dance moves..." he said, rooted to the spot. It hadn't crossed his mind up to that point. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing, moving in concert with one another. Almost like they were working as part of a hive mind, he wondered. It was strange to imagine any drone performing a waltz, but the link was weirdly present.

"Neither do I." Evelyn managed to sound partially amused, a glance upwards at him meant as a reassurance. "Though if my memory serves me correctly, these styles of dance are very repetitive in nature. Perhaps," she suggested, craning around to the side to seek a better view, "we would be better off joining the audience on the hay bales for the time being." Whilst the general atmosphere seemed to be dominated by the music and movement, it was those who formed the immediate circle around the dancers who seemed the most involved. An uninterrupted view might give them opportunity enough to figure out what was expected.

"Yes. That's a good idea." It was blessed relief for Oliver to be taken out of the immediate moment of wonder. His hand found hers again and he took the first few steps this time, purpose established once again. There was a space with room enough on either side that they could be relatively alone but not completely out of the way. As they perched, he didn't release his hold on her hand. Maybe it was a comfort, or perhaps he was lost in the stimuli all around them. "I never really understood how a large group like this managed to work so...in concert. One skill of many I think I must have missed, growing up."

More than aware enough of the own treacherous voice inside her head, the one that kept trying to paint doomsday scenarios and had a tendency to forge rather intense glimmers of dependency on the scant handful of people it decided to trust, Evelyn observed Oliver's physical clinginess with a very fractured sense of professional curiosity and personal gratitude. Far from a stupid woman, she knew well enough that their association already had the potential to provoke further agitation and there was at least one tiny alarm bell ringing in her head that wanted to pose the theory that she was using the timid man as an excuse. There wasn't a lot in the Evelyn Reynold's Survival Guide, however, that laid out what to do when your entire career ended and your professional aspirations were dwindled, or at least reallocated, to patching up wounds on a cargo ship. She had come into this feeling like Jake was her only remaining contact, even her own family were held at some distance because of the potential for interference, and whatever friends she had left in Starfleet couldn't very well be called upon to be much support. Helping Oliver, (because that was the narrative she'd been feeding herself this whole time), had scraped together some semblance of purpose from the detritus of her life and Evelyn, as always, was intent on being an over-achiever.

It was definitely, absolutely, all for Oliver's benefit.

She gave his hand a squeeze.

And then studied the movement of the dancers, because they were there to join in. Evelyn figured she had perhaps five minutes before Oliver lost his nerve entirely, and that meant absorbing the routine with enough consistency not to disrupt the flow. She nodded absently in agreement with his confusion. "It's a little faster pace than any of the dancing I was taught."

His own eyes darted around, trying to observe and absorb. "Yeah." He could only agree with her assessment. It was almost like an overstimulation of his senses by this point. "Do you think they'll let us join in if we're not very good?" he wondered.

Even as Evelyn opened her mouth to respond, her attempt was drowned out by the loudspeaker, which she now realised was responsible for ensuring an even spread of sound across the entire space despite the fact that the band was set a ways off from the dancers. "All right, folks, this next one's for everyone! C'mon, don't be shy! Find your feet, grab a partner, we'll learn this as we go!"

There seemed to be a general sense of recognition amongst the locals, enough that even those out of the picnic tables rallied themselves and formed several lines in front of the stage. Within the barn itself, there was a scurry of activity, with most on the hay bales rising in confusion, glancing around to make sure everyone else was following the instruction without being entirely sure what was expected of them. Those who had already been dancing were beckoning with encouragement, several moving to link arms with the most hesitant to drag them up to their feet. Evelyn rose quickly, glued immediately to Oliver's side lest there be any confusion over her own requirement for a partner, and then leaned in to attempt to murmur to him above the din. "Do you want to stay in here or head out to the other area?" It was very squishy in the barn now, the lines near the band seemed far more civilised.

He didn't really know. It was a little overwhelming, if he was honest with himself. But Oliver steeled himself as best he could and maintained his grip. "Let's just find a space..." he murmured, not sure if it was loud enough to drown out the noise. He led the way this time, pulling her to where there was enough room to breathe. In spite of that, though, he kept hold of her hand. For comfort and security more than anything else. He felt the eyes on him again; whether they knew his origins or not, it reminded him of that unsettled feeling he'd had earlier.

As the music started up again, a little slower than before, someone began calling out instructions over the loudspeaker: dance positions, he realised quickly. He turned his body towards Evelyn, gave her a nod, and waited to see if she would be able to keep up even with the limitations of her knee.

Thankfully, though she rarely had cause to think of it in such terms, Evelyn had decent grounding in the basics of social dancing, though the focus had been on how to maintain a waltz for the duration of a night and a little less about ways to avoid tripping over hay bales or one's own feet. Once the music started up and the caller began leading the choreography, it very quickly became obvious that the expertise of the group was by-and-large split right down the middle. There were those who knew what they were doing enough to anticipate, and the rest were tourists who had never attempted the movements before. Add to the mix those who were merry on mead and Evelyn realised the futility of being too self-conscious about her efforts. Nobody was watching them, not enough to single them out in any case. In the space of a few minutes, the sensation of scrutiny had faded and even though they were surrounded to such an extent that bumps and scuffles were inevitable, it no longer felt overwhelming. A misstep sent her sideways into Oliver as the pair of them couldn't decide which direction was correct and, for the first time all night, Evelyn caught herself laughing.

"I think left means stage left," she called up to him. "As in left if you're standing on stage facing out. Just think opposites!"

He had been so absorbed in things that he'd also let his guard down, his hands scrambling to make sure she didn't topple before righting himself and giving her the sort of quiet nod a child gives when they realise they were doing something wrong. "Not so easy..." he mumbled, thinking that forwards and backwards weren't quite the same. But it was their first time, and he had to allow himself the time to learn. "Are you having fun?" he asked, deflecting the internal anxieties back out to Evelyn.

It struck Evelyn as an odd question, mostly because she didn't have an immediate response for it. Empty platitudes would have been easier and her upbringing hadn't ever allowed her to cultivate any tendency to opt for brutal honesty as a preferred first reaction, but it seemed somehow unkind to offer Oliver the same kind of reassurances that would have automatically tumbled out of her mouth with anyone else. This had been his idea, his moment of courage, and since the reality was probably a little more chaotic than fanciful imaginings had allowed, she wasn't that surprised to hear a tinge of regret in his tone. Too much of his own enjoyment hinged on her response, Evie was convinced of that much.

She watched him closely as the next move required them to circle around each other, face-to-face.

"More fun than I expected to have tonight." That, at least, was an honest response.

Over his anxieties and the concentration of keeping up with the dance moves, that statement actually gave Oliver a smile. An actual, pure one. As someone often far too worried about the feelings of others (usually towards him), it was a blessed relief to hear that she was enjoying herself too.

"I'm...glad." Being face-to-face with her in that moment, with the overwhelming nature of the dance and the natural smile he wore on his face, he felt his heart ache a little in his chest. Like it could burst. The eyes staring back at him were the first genuine ones he felt he'd ever looked into. There was a connection. Something unlike he'd felt before. Involuntarily, his eyes closed, and he started to lean in...

The next set of dance moves kicked-in a second later, the sudden change in tempo and the jostling of others moving around them breaking the tiny moment. His eyes opened, and his cheeks flushed.

"M-maybe we should get some air..." he mumbled.