the_variant | (no subject)

While Sylvie has given up trying to find a source of power for the TemPad, she hasn't given up trying to get out of this place. Everyone tells her it's impossible, but she has to believe they just aren't smart enough to manage it, that they've become complacent, comfortable, and don't bother trying. She isn't going to stop, though. She can't stop. The rest of these people don't understand just how important it is that she get back to the TVA.

Her current plan, besides anything she might be able to manage with Walter's help, is to find a thin spot in Darrow. They have to exist. If she can find one, she'll be able to leave, slip between worlds, find herself a proper source of power for the TemPad she has tucked in her jacket, and make the bloody thing work again so she can have some hope of undoing what she's done in the first place.

Although, no multiversal war has come to Darrow just yet, which she has to assume is a good thing.

Still, she's trying. Dressed in a pair of stretchy black jeans, black boots, and a deep green shirt beneath her black jacket, Sylvie has traced a source of power to downtown Darrow and realized a little too late that she's sensing some other powered person in this place rather than something that can actually help her get out of here.

Too late because she's inside a dance club. Too late because she's already in the crowd, the music pumping, bass pounding, drunken idiots stumbling around, feeling each other up in dark corners and on the dance floor. Some big guy is nearly humping some poor girl who looks like she's barely able to stand and Sylvie steps hard on his foot and puts herself between them, then shuffles the girl back off toward her friends. This isn't why she's here. She isn't some do-gooder hero like Loki tries to believe himself to be. She needs to get out.

The big guy looks confused, but simply turns to find someone else to dance with. Which is when he sidles up next to Sylvie. He's smaller than the other man, his hair is dark, pushed back from his face, which is pale, with sharp angles, hollowed cheekbones, and for just a second Sylvie's heart skips in her chest.

But then the features resolve. Become someone else. Attractive enough, but not the man she was hoping for in that moment. Her gaze flicks over him, unimpressed, and then she pushes past.

"Hey, wait," he says, grabbing her wrist. "That was really cool of you, helping that girl."

"Let go of me," Sylvie says, wrenching her wrist from his grasp. He backs off a few steps, holding his hands up, then disappears into the crowd. And that's when someone grabs her from behind. Big hands on her hips, a warm body pressed against her back. It's all under the guise of dancing, but Sylvie's not an idiot, and she can feel every bit of the intention in the move. Without thinking, she throws an elbow back and it slams hard into a man's nose. Then she turns and a green blast of energy flies from her hand to his chest, plowing him back through the crowd on the dance floor.

A few people protest, but even then, almost no one has even noticed what's happened.

Threaded | Flat

Luther misses whatever happens to cause the green light and stumbling nearby, but it's just a little too bright, arcs out in a way that suggests something besides a glowstick. The disruption seems small enough, and honestly, he feels comfortable enough in this setting, just one bigger body in a small sea of dancers. He can drink just enough to get a buzz, and then lose himself in the pounding bass.

So he's in good spirits as he heads closer to the source of the light, and moving with the crowd, he maybe sort of shimmies over, trying to cover a little ground and not lose the beat.

Comfortably aware of his body for once, Luther manages to move delicately, if maybe not in the most attractive way. It takes him a moment to notice her, an unfortunate moment in which he's still dancing. He can't just leave, though. What if she's not okay? "Hey," he calls, dancing a little closer, but keeping his distance. "You okay?"

This was a terrible idea.

A woman at the coffee shop that Bucky frequents had asked him out the other day, and against his better judgement, he'd said yes. He thought that maybe it would distract him, that maybe he could blow off a little steam, but he isn't that guy anymore. He hasn't blown off steam since the 40's, since he had both of his arms and a lack of severe trauma that zapped all of his social skills.

When she asked him to go dancing, he was hesitant. He used to love going dancing, but that was back in his own time, before dance clubs with heavy bass and lasers and godawful synth music. He's having an awful time, and the woman doesn't seem all that surprised when Bucky bails on her as soon as she finds some friends. It was stupid, thinking he could go on a date like a normal guy.

On his way towards the exit, he hears a bit of commotion and looks over to see a guy grabbing Sylvie around the waist in a way that looks very much against her will. Bucky's first instinct is to rush over and help, but then he remembers who he's dealing with and pauses a few feet away instead, crossing his arms as he watches.

Just as he suspected, Sylvie throws him off. The flash of green light that sends the guy sprawling back is more of a surprise, but the whole thing is amusing enough that he can't help but to press his tongue against the inside of the corner of his mouth as he smiles.

"I guess I shouldn't ask if I can cut in," he quips as he steps up next to her, watching as the guy starts to pull himself to his feet. For a moment, he stumbles forward as if he's looking for another round, but he looks at Sylvie and then over to Bucky, who lifts his metal hand to give him a wave, and then turns away with a grumble.