2025-02-07 - Trance Night: The Afterparty

The walk through the night-- thankfully devoid of real rain, despite the damp air and chill breeze of the lamplit streets so near the Lake-- is as swift as they can make it. Almost before leaving the beach club, Brandon's offered Ruby his large white cloak against the cold, given the nature of her dress, and mindful of her heels sets an easy pace for the short jaunt to Lucky's.

There's not so much talk as they focus on getting through the cold to someplace warm again, and it's only once they're comfortably settled into a 'snug' at the pub, drinks ordered but not yet arrived, that they can finally talk much. Brandon's smiling wearily as he's telling Ruby about the show that day.

"...and of course the Mystery Knight-- that's Drea-- finally came out and sent Neville packing. The crowd loves it when she takes her helmet off. Every damn time. Did I tell you, I almost wore a helmet over to see you the other night?" He fixes Ruby with a mischievous grin.

It is cold. Worse? It is sobering. The cold shocked the one cocktail straight out of the blonde's body. She gratefully accepted the white cloak, wrapping up in it the best she could without ditching the little gold embellished wings. Even with her heels clacking against the cement, she keeps a quick pace, hellbent on getting to Lucky's before she's stone sober or frozen solid.

"They don't know Drea is a woman until she takes it off?" Ruby asks. She then grins. "Oh?" She laughs, and reaches for his sword. "You do have a habit of taking things home that are probably meant to stay in the arena."

"Honestly, they have no idea, I swear," Brandon explains, allowing her to draw the sword forth if that's what she wants. Generally, it's a good idea not to stop your girlfriend if she has it in mind to grab your sword, and he doesn't, eyes sparkling playfully-- though he goes on speaking casually as if nothing at all unusual is happening. Not in this booth. "What? You mean the helmet? It was actually a different helmet."

He laughs and leans toward her, still waiting on their drinks. "You know that Taylor Swift song, the stay-stay-stay one?"

"That's awesome," Ruby says, her eyes sparkling. "No wonder it's such a rug-pull moment for the audience." She doesn't take the sword out fully, but enough that it reflects the overhead lights.

"Not your knight one?" She asks. "Do you just... wear a helmet?" She seems to find this idea amusing considering she's still giggling while she reaches for her drink. She nods and takes a sip of her drink. "You're such a Swifty," she teases, shoulder bumping his playfully.

"Guilty as charged," Brandon replies, nudging back with a laugh. He slips an arm around Ruby's shoulders and leans in for a kiss, tasting the alcohol on her lips before bothering with his own, a simple bottle of some local craft brew he hasn't bothered learning the name of. Then leaning back he explains, "But not guilty of just wearing helmets. I thought I had an old football helmet here, but I don't..."

"Anyway, in that song, she's ready to be mad and the guy shows up in a football helmet, right? So after our text didn't go so hot, I almost..." He shrugs, giving a guilty smile. "Yeah. Probably better I didn't, huh?"

Ruby's dress is made out of shiny gold fabric that moves like water over her slender figure. The neckline dips between her breasts, and the back is practically non-existent. The wings have been removed and set on an empty chair, and she's removed the crown, too, in favor of letting her blonde waves flow free. They aren't the most dressed-up people at Lucky's tonight. The bar is getting crowded with folks who left the party too. "That might be too big a deep cut even for me," she teases him. "But it's sweet... But it's also normal for us to fight sometimes, you know?" Not that it was much of a fight. "It'd be weirded if we didn't annoy each other sometimes."

Brandon laughs, nodding to the inescapable wisdom of that. "That's fair," he admits, "although I've gotta confess, I'm not there yet. Right about now, you could probably get away with just about anything and I'd say it was a great idea." His eyes drift over that dress and the way it conforms to her figure before lifting back up to her eyes, smiling slyly. She knows it's about far more than physical attraction with him, but that part's definitely present too.

A few more Trance Night denizens arrive, passing their booth on the way to the bar's interior. Clocking them, Brandon asks, "How do you think Alan was able to generate those weird effects? He's been pretty open with me about... lots of stuff," he admits, "but I had no idea what was going on in there tonight."

"Is that so?" Ruby asks, her smile growing into an amused grin. "Well, now I'm curious just how much I can get away with," she teases playfully, her hand sliding down his thigh under the table. Her eyes then flick to her glass. She'd need a refill in a moment or so.

Ruby looks out toward the bar, soaking up the sight of all the gorgeous outfits. "Illusion magic, maybe?" Ruby suggests. "I think that's what Robun used to make it rain. There's always a tell that it's fake though... like the rain didn't make us wet." She then looks back at his drink. "Want me to get us refills?"

Brandon can't help shivering a little as her hand slides under the table, touching him; after all, he's wearing a medieval tunic and robes, not his usual jeans or shorts, and the sensation hits him hard, soliciting that sly grin again. "Do you have to get up? I kind of like you here," he laughs, arching his eyebrows with a wry, hungry look before shaking his head. "Seriously though, if you want to, go for it. Maybe some fries or something to split? You're the best-- I'll be here when you get back."

Ruby's fingers slide over the fabric. It was a great costume. A nice change from the jeans or gym shorts she typically saw him in. The air was still electric from the party, and Ruby's buzz was starting to come back. "It's good to miss me sometimes," she tells Brandon, full of wise words tonight. "I don't think they have waiters working this late. I'll get the fries in before they close the kitchen," she says and leans in as if she's going to kiss him, just to tease him and pull away at the last moment.

She slides out of the booth and fixes her dress before making her way across the bar. Ruby is petite, but she cuts a striking figure, lithe and elegant in her movements. It also doesn't hurt that she's dressed like a daydream and her skin shimmers from the glitter makeup under the dim bar lights. She makes it to the bar, places the order for fries and their drinks. While she's waiting, a guy dressed as a vampire slides up next to her and slides his arm across Ruby's back. He then moves as if he's about to bite Ruby's neck.

Caught short of the kiss he thought was coming, Brandon blinks in shock and then shakes his head, laughing fondly. The fakeout got him and he knows it, so he just watches Ruby go with a rueful grin. And he does watch—she’s a vision in that dress and the way it clings to her? He can’t help it.

He’s still watching when she’s made her way to the bar, finishing the last of his beer as this other guy slips up behind Ruby and puts his arm around her. Eyes narrowing, Brandon’s rising out of his seat as the would-be vampire lowers his head toward Ruby’s neck. That costume doesn’t help.

Of course, Brandon knows it’s all artifice—or mostly, this is Spellbound after all—but at some deeper level it’s the image itself that acts on him as much as the guy’s intent. The vampire is folklore, legend, a fear embedded deep in the ancestral European soul. A threat, a predatory creature vaguely sexual in nature, out to steal, dominate, take something unbearably precious from her; all the subconscious triggers we never even recognize until they’re tripped are firing in Brandon’s mind in an instant. He’s on his feet and moving down toward the bar in half a flash, projecting his voice as only a rock singer can.

“Hey, Twilight,” Brandon calls out loudly, the words redolent with a dry contempt. “Leave the girl alone.”

The vampire whispers something to Ruby, lips buzzing against her skin while she pushes him away, disgusted. She can smell the booze on his breath and seeping through his pores. Several onlookers were between letting it happen and stepping in when Brandon's voice boomed through the bar like a gunshot.

The vampire curls his arms around Ruby's slim frame and smiles at Brandon, amused. "Come on, man. You had your turn," he slurs, pulling his mouth away from Ruby's neck and standing up to his full height. He's a bigger guy, around 6' and broad. His arms remain around Ruby's waist, and he tugs her in closer if only to get a rise out of Brandon.

Brandon isn’t looking at the vampire, not really. Not at first. His eyes lock on Ruby's. I’m here. Can you get away? He sends the question directly to her, mind to mind, the words wrapped in a steely reassurance and confidence.

Only in the wake of that thought do his eyes flicker back to the drunken, would-be bloodsucker. The guy is as tall as Brandon, but thicker, beefier where the white knight is cut and athletic. A quick study tells him a lot. Brandon doesn’t see the wild-eyed gaze of a trouble seeker, or the flat, dead stare of the truly dangerous. He just sees a lecherous drunk.

“There’s no turns here, dickhead,” Brandon says quietly, voice silky with a silent threat despite the thin smile on his lips. He continues moving forward, not pausing. “Let her go.” In two more steps he’ll be close enough to touch her, catch her, but she’s almost a human shield.

Ruby is not having a good time. This vile idiot, who is likely a coworker given they are at Lucky's, has his paws all over her. He keeps pulling me closer. Ruby tells Bran through her mind. She moves to pull away again, and his fist curls into the fabric of her dress. Ruby's gaze narrows, shoots more venom at him, calling him disgusting, and jams the edge of her heel into his foot. This at least makes his hands unfurl. "You stupid slut," he snarls and grabs Ruby by the wrist, yanking her into him again, which causes Ruby to yelp. He then turns, placing Ruby between Brandon and himself. This gets the bartender's attention.

"Seriously, you're drunk. Let me go!" Ruby demands, squirming. She reaches for anything she can grab off the bartop and ends up with a fork, which she jams into his leg.

The would-be vampire howls in pain as Ruby jams the fork into the meaty flesh just above his knee. Jeans might have afforded some small protection, but the thin black slacks he’s wearing for his costume offer little resistance to the metal tines.

Shocked by the sudden pain, Ruby’s assailant loses his grip on her. That’s when Brandon acts.

Sliding to his left, away from the bar but circling to the right of Ruby and her erstwhile captor, Brandon lashes out—not with a punch or a strike of any kind, but instead hooking the guy’s elbow and immediately following with another sidestep, levering the vampire’s arm up away from his girlfriend and behind his back with enough torque to dislocate the shoulder. It’s a swift move, vicious in nature but clinically executed. It should result in separating the dickhead from his girlfriend and allowing Brandon to control the guy’s balance and movement.

The fork clatters to the ground. She hadn't jammed it into his flesh hard enough to draw blood, but it was effective nonetheless. She moves swiftly away from the vampire just as Brandon steps in. The pop of his shoulder dislocating rings out over the music. As does the sound of his scream.

Anyone at Lucky's who hadn't known what was happening would now. All eyes had turned to the bar, and even a few cell phones had come out to record the altercation.

The bartender had called security at some point during the incident, and they arrived just as the man started shouting profanities at Brandon. Never mind that this was a situation of his own stupid design. One of the security guards steps in to take over for Brandon while the other speaks with the bartender, who explains the situation. Once it's clear that the man touched Ruby without consent, the manager rushes her, apologizing profusely for not stepping in sooner.

Brandon releases his hold on the vampire's thick arm with a disgusted face, giving the guy a little shove in the process as he steps away and lets security move in. None too pleased-- though whether from the need to deal with this loser, or having to let him go before doing more serious damage, it's impossible to say-- he pushes his hair out of his eyes as he moves to check in with Ruby.

First placing a hand gently on her shoulder, Brandon steps in to wrap his arms around his girlfriend with an unconsciously protective air, enfolding her with a strength that's entirely counter to the grip of the asshole they'd just dealt with. Warm. Caring. Suffused with the sense of him and his presence projected silently through the mindlink, trying to give her something to steady whatever the situation's done to her equilibrium.

Out loud, Brandon asks quietly, "You okay? Did he hurt you?"

The bar manager takes care of their check, saying it's the least they can do. Security escorts the man out. Ruby... stands there. Not really sure what to do until Brandon is wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in. "I'm fine," she tells him quietly, unaware of the scratch marks that'd been left on her lower back when she'd stabbed him with the fork.

"Can we leave?" She asks. She could feel all the eyes still on them. She could sense the whispers and knew that come morning light, someone will have connected the dots and back to Brandon and they'd have to relive this moment all over again on their socials. "I really just want to go home."

There's scarcely a pause before Brandon says, "Yeah. Yeah, let's go," without another word. He leans in, gives her a quick kiss on the cheek, and adds, "Whatever you need." Back to their booth in fairly short order, he wraps his white cloak around Ruby's shoulders again and takes up his sword. He doesn't bother buckling it back on his belt, either, just walking her to the door and out into the cold of the street. Nobody follows.

As the door closes behind them and they stand there in the night, Brandon suggests-- or assumes out loud, "Your place?"

"Yeah, my place," Ruby confirms as she pulls the cloak around her body. She wasn't even cold despite the winds picking up and the temperature dropping even lower while they were at Lucky's. Maybe it's the adrenaline from what happened. She's quiet. Even her mind is quiet. Steady in an eerie way. Nothing like that had ever happened to Ruby before.

When they reach Ruby's door, her phone starts going off. It's reminiscent of the way it had the morning after their first date. She glances at it once and winces seeing the headline. Silvertone's frontman breaks a man's arm in a bar fight. Her stomach was twisting and her hands shaking as she tries to put the key into the door. But maybe she's just cold.

Brandon's standing just beside and behind her as Ruby tries to put her key in the door. He can't help catching a glimpse of her screen as she fumbles the lock, and he whispers, "Oh, fuck them." Inhaling deeply, he steps up close behind her, covering her hand with his own and helping Ruby turn the key in the lock. The door opens and if she'll let him, he guides her inside, not saying anything yet, just closing the door behind them and making sure it locks audibly.

She lets him help. The apartment is dark inside, and she doesn't know where Wally is—he's probably asleep. "It's fine," she tells him, about the headline. Was it? It wasn't the truth. Well, it was the truth, but it lacked context. Did it matter? Did anything?

She leads them through the dark apartment and into her bedroom, flicking the lights on, and sits on the edge of her bed to start the process of undoing her shoes. "I feel so gross," she admits quietly. "I feel..." she shakes her head, eyes fixed on the floor. She couldn't find the words, but that mind link was still open between them. He'd feel the shame and confusion starting to simmer. "I'm sorry..."

Brandon acts swiftly, speaks even more swiftly. Crossing the room towards her with two quick paces, he kneels down in front of her to look up into her eyes--the only way he can do it, with her eyes fixed on the floor. His own gaze is earnest, his thoughts reinforcing the words he speaks.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You did nothing wrong, you're the world's most incredible girl and I love you," Brandon insists, hands on her bare knees, eyes wide as he tries to make eye contact, tries to get in without pushing his way. The link is flooded with warmth, attraction, adoration coming from him to her. "Nothing that happened tonight changes any of that."

She felt like she was coming apart. With each second that ticked past, another piece of her splintered away as she starts to process what exactly happened tonight. How violated she'd been and the fact that if Brandon hadn't been there it might have been so much worse. At LUCKY'S of all places.

Brandon's blue eyes pull her out of the darkness, and a hint of a smile works its way onto her lips, maybe fore his sake more than her own. She didn't feel like smiling right now.

"I just can't believe that happened. He... God," she shakes her head, her fingers curling into the edge of her mattress until her fingers turn white. "He.... He would have..." She wouldn't let her mind go there. "He felt so entitled! He... he didn't even say anything before putting his hands on me and..." and she felt sick. She closed her eyes tight and drew a steadying breath. "And now you'll have to deal with it..." Just what they needed.

"I've dealt with worse," Brandon reminds her, "and I have Derek to make sure it's spun the way it really happened. But this isn't about me." He insists on that last part, encouraged by her smile even if he can tell, even if he knows she doesn't entirely feel it yet.

"Maybe he would have. Because yeah, some guys are sick. But he didn't, babe. You did as much as anything I did and probably more. You hurt his foot. You got free. You're a fucking fighter and I love you for it." He stands up slowly in front of her, putting his arms around her and pulling her head toward his chest. She's still sitting, so he stands so he can caress her blonde hair, show her with his touch how much he means it.

Rubys arms wrap around her waist and she winces as her fingers brush a tender spot. Brandon's encouragement does help some, getting her to at least meet his gaze. "I can't believe I stabbed him with a fork," it was unbelievable. "He's lucky I didn't grab something worse."

Ruby rests her head against his chest and closes her eyes. "I'm probably making it a bigger deal than it was. He was drunk... I was... well... this dress gets attention," she'd wanted attention. His attention. She got a lot more than she'd bargained for.

“You were breathtaking,” says Brandon, still earnest. “You still are.” One hand rests lightly on her shoulder while his other lingers in her hair, slow and soothing strokes through the silken vanilla strands to her neck. It’s as if he subconsciously wants to chase away the memory of the unwelcome touch by replacing it with a more pleasurable one.

“I love that dress,” he chuckles, voice quiet and thoughtful. “How many times have you been to Lucky’s? This shit isn’t normal. This was one drunk idiot. He’s not taking anything away from you.” Brandon falls silent a moment, still caressing Ruby’s hair.

Then he adds, more hopefully, “We were having a great night. We still can.”

Brandon's words and soothing touch help to ground her. She's safe. He's there. She closes her eyes, allowing him to put the pieces that'd been chipped away by that stranger back together again. "Only a few times," she admits.

Finally, she pulls away, sitting back on the bed so she can look up at him. "It was a really good night," she agrees, and it sounds more earnest this time. "And I'm glad you liked my dress. I hoped you would."

Relieved that she’s back to herself, Brandon meets Ruby’s gaze with the sort of smile she used to only see on social media. Now it’s all for her.