2021-09-20 - Not Your Mom's Prom

Ravn Abildgaard has questions. First off? He's not American. He never went to prom like this, because 'prom' is a decidedly American high school phenomenon. High schools as Americans know the concept are not a thing in Europe, either.

He's watched enough TV to recognise the setting, though. Which leads to the next obvious question: Why him? He's thirty-one -- bit old for high school. And that, of course, leads him to the third question; probably the one that takes up most space on his list of priorities right away -- why the everloving bloody fuck is he dressed like this?

Also, that whole tenet of his about the only way out is through? Forget it. The only way through this might be finding the men's room and hiding in it until this Veil abduction is over.

Javier, for all intents and purposes, never attended a 'prom' either, back in Tijuana. An understated dinner after church that day is what he recalls, and this.. is definitely not understated.

The Veil has seen fit to ensure he's attired at least somewhat appropriately for this little soiree: a charcoal grey suit that fits his bulky frame like it was made for it. And it probably was. Even so, the first thing he does is to start unbuttoning and removing the jacket. Because fuck if he's going to be trapped in that thing all night.

Hyacinth did attend prom. She competed, conquered and won by merit or pure fear was she coronated her senior year and it's still in a little glass box. You have to fight for your trinkets in life and bring folks up with you...unless maybe they're in your way. Eh. But if you don't do these things then your mother never lets you live that shit down. Not when you're an Addington in any case. There are worse things than being put back into stressful times trying not to disappoint your family lie being turned into a carnivorous plant and she's vowed never to do that. Again.

She is there, though, like a cake topper in a long red gown covered in silver crystals because red is for winners or some shit. Still there is a frown, not nerves, but certainly feeling the gravitas of the situation like she's 17 again and forgot she's spent a lifetime hosting charity events and brings an executive board to their best manners once monthly.

"Right. Hya, get your bearings."

He vaguely remembers when he attended prom back a lifetime or two ago (but then again, for Jonathan, just a few years ago feels like a lifetime ago), but it's not what he has most of his memories about from back in those days. His focus was more on other things those days. At least he looked good in a suit, both in the past and the present, right. He looks around at the others present, but keeps quiet at the moment, looking around rather carefully.

Give Ravn credit for not screaming? He's pretty damn certain that 1) his mother was never a southern Belle, 2) American, 3) is several years dead. Also, 4) her English miserable, and 5) she'd never have gotten within ten metres' distance of a Latino. Not that 6) she'd have been able to tell a Latino from anyone else not Scandinavian looking. He blinks several times. Gapes a bit like a goldfish, really. Of all the whacked stuff he's seen the Veil do...

Well, there was that time he was a teenager who couldn't speak English. Or that time he was a merman. Fine. On with it.

"Thank you, mum," he manages to squeeze out. "Hello, kids. How about we go win the dance competition or whatever so we can get the hell out of here?"

Ruiz is in the process of shrugging out of his jacket and flicking it over the back of a chair he's passing, when some Southern Belle he doesn't recognise is approaching him with designs on.. what? She thinks he's here with the Dane? "I think you're-" Then she pinches his cheek, and who the fuck pinches the police Chief's cheek? Ravn's mom, apparently.

"Lo cuidaré lo mejor posible, señora," he replies instead, shadowing her a wink as he turns up the sleeves of his shirt one at a time. A flick of dark eyes to Ravn, as if to say, will you get a fucking load of this?, and then he murmurs low, "If there's going to be any dancing, I'm leading, cabron."

Hyacinth waves a hand. which then makes a circling gesture at her face, "We just spent three hours doing this, but thank you. It's..." Her eyes shift to Ravn, then Ruiz. She knows them distinctly. Can she place it? It's foggy and this is upsetting. Looking to Jonathan she says, "Good luck tonight and good job on the game this week." She's going to have a fit that her memories are rattled right now...later...when she realizes. Oh stupid dreams being a bit too real to pick out at first. There's a pause and she boggles , "Ravn?" And then there's the squirming Mexican and with s a sigh she reaches out to advise, "You're going to rip it if you keep doing it that way. Why didn't they tailor that for you broader in teh shoulders?" Because everyone's shit is custom right?

"Hmmm.. I mean..." Jonathan begins, expression a bit thoughtful, before he nods a little, "Okay..." Looking to Hyacinth he smiles. "Thanks..." Pausing as he looks around again, otherwise keeping silent at the moment.

This is where Ravn realises two things. One is remembering that he's actually kind of sort of promised himself that he's not getting a dance floor again in his life ever, and the other is that his Veil mum is bloody serious about him getting out there -- with Chief de la Vega. The look he shoots all three fellow victims is helpless. At this point he'd probably volunteer to take Jonathan's place in a private room doing just about anything because at least it'd be private.

For a split second he wonders if he's supposed to do something about Dudebro there making lewd gestures at Hyacinth. Dudebro might need the rescue.

Then he's swept up in a sea of bodies and has to focus every bit of attention he possesses on simply not screaming. Neuropathy is a bitch.

"Look," the Mexican growls, pivoting away from Ravn and his existential horror for a moment in order to inform Hyacinth that, "I didn't fucking ask for your opinion, lo entiendes?" He flicks his fingers at her, and brushes past to go see where his goddamn date has wandered off to. And realises he's going to have to rescue him from the press of bodies out on the dancefloor; which he presently wades in to do, with that uncanny ability he has to cut a swath through a room and make people move for him.

Hyacinth stands there like a topper sans cake (seriously now is a great time to bury concerns in carbs. DO NOT tell her mother!) Looking to Ravn and Ruiz there's a concern before she smirks, "That's not an opinion that's a fact of fabric." And then there's Josh Dawson running his damn mouth. And Hyacinth Addington looks to Jonathan (poor laddie) and back.

There be war on the horizon laddies. Grab yuir britches now and brace for impact.

The finger extends and the eyebrows go up and that smile becomes positively venomous. Oh god. She's getting 'nice' Looking to Jonathon she says simply, "Don't listen to him. His idea of a romantic time is the back of his dad's Buick and his left hand because the right one won't return his calls." Smiling so sweetly the pinky extends on one hand because she's a pretty pretty fucking goddamn princess, and one very well manicure turns her finger up from 1 to 'full bitch' looking at him with a smug satisfaction as the dread around her works to just lash out and abuse that kid with every insecurity he's brought to the table.

Seizing Jonathan's elbow she tugs gently, "Ignore him. You'll get more ass in a year than that dweeb will in a life time if that's even what you want. So, where're you going next year and...why are those people shoving the guy with the nerve damage?" There's a sigh and she looks back to Jonathon, "We escape soon. It'll be fine. What're you doing after graduation anyways?"

Jonathan glances to the dance floor momentarily, then frowns as he hears his name called, looking over in that direction. As he hears Hyacinth's words, he is unable to hold back a bit of a chuckle, nodding a bit. As for the question about where he's going next year, he smiles, taking a few moments to think. "Alaska. They gave me a scholarship up..." He pauses as he hears the part of people shoving someone. "After graduation? I think it's called following my dreams. How about you?"

Ravn is not screaming. His palms, for once not gloved, are bleeding from his fingernails digging into the flesh, though. Surprise physical touch hurts -- in a crowd like that, he's being frozen, burned, bitten, stabbed and electrocuted simultaneously. The only thing that's really on his mind right now is getting to either of the two people he knows can fix it -- Hyacinth, de la Vega, either, both. He flails in the human sea and does not at all appreciate a girl grabbing his ass in those white jeans, nor that girl thinking that not wearing a shirt under a pink jacket signals all kinds of interesting things about his orientation.

"Help," he tries to mouth to any of the three people he knows to be real. "Let's just get this over with?" He'll dance with either. Both. All three. Unless hiding under a table is an option in which case he is all about that.

The crowd may not part for him, but at least it doesn't stop de la Vega from pushing his way through with that singular purpose of his. He catches sight of Ravn amidst a clutch of grinding teenagers, rooted to the spot as those opening bars of Sarah McLachlan key up. Cutting his way over, ignoring the dirty look a couple of girls give him who clearly thought he was headed their way, he places a hand on the taller Dane's shoulder once he reaches him.

"Hey." The contact's strangely warm. As if whatever emotion Ravn had been feeling a moment ago, it's had its edges shaved off and softened. Everything feels.. easier. Quieter, lighter, more calm. "Hey. Let's get this shit over with, yeah? You want to dance?" He holds out a hand, tries to smile. It comes off a little wolfish.

"Savannah." She tells Jonathan. "Savannah, Georgia where it is warm, and old, and beautiful and not...here." There's slow recognition like she's had this conversation before. Why? Harbor: 101 - Not Bothering with Why anymore. Now the crowd doesn't part for Ruiz but is an and it WILL part for Hya using audacity and hubris as weapons for...good or...something. Look it's about as 'First Aid' as she's really equipped to do short of demanding 'get back behind the line, losers. Reason 1,897 pt. 2 why Ruiz is the cop and she's not.

So now that there's space tehre's a sympathetic look given to the guys in that silent team effort she will absolutely deny as she drags Jonathon to dance. Are there sparkles? Damn. No sparkles. Note to planning committee for next year: spotlights and sparkles. "I've decided to do what I love doing most and go do furniture design and historic renovations so maybe we can make some old buildings ADA helpful without crapping on, like, their original aesthetic and things. It's going to be so very." Still a smile warms, and maybe because people are watching, but she is excited for her classmate, "That sounds so...cold though. Do you get a free penguin with purchase of tuition at least?"

Jonathan smiles. "That sounds quite nice, the warm, beautiful and not here," he offers, with a smile. Looking around briefly to see nobody's getting trampled or anything. As he's dragged to dance, he smiles. "Doing what you love is a good thing. That's why I'm going up north as well, they offered me a scholarship and a chance to play college hockey there." There's a chuckle at the words about the free penguin. "I don't think so. It would be nice, though. Unless they bite, right?"

Oh sweet pain relief. And sweet people keeping their bloody distance. Almost good enough to --

-- Actually, Ravn is probably going to need a pillow to scream into at some point when he needs to come to terms with the fact that he's slow dancing. With de la Vega. There's a part of his brain that's going ++Universal Continuity Failure Error Please Reboot++. He's ignoring it. Just get through. Only way is through. Only way is through.

Rosencrantz is going to die. And then come back to haunt me, demanding pictures. Oh God, I need to talk to Hyacinth in the morning.

Does it make things better, or infinitely worse that de la Vega actually knows how to dance? He's no clammy handed shuffler, the police captain; when he informed Ravn that he'd be taking the lead, he damned well meant it. The Dane will find himself on the receiving end of a certain sort of boldness that only a Mexican can muster. Though once the music's cut, and they're asked to come up on stage, it's his turn to start looking a little less certain. Dancing is one thing; being judged on such is entirely another, for a social recluse such as himself.

"Let's go see what this is about," he murmurs to Ravn, nodding toward the stage. Then with a glance over his shoulder to see where Hyacinth and Jonathan have gotten to, he ambles on up.

Oh, enemies! AWESOME! She can see them cry up close. Some people have a fight or flight reaction to fear. Hya has a fight and fight harder, probably with a lot of words, response. There's a pause and she looks from Jonathan, Rav, and Ruiz with a slight concern (not the other 2 skano hos. THey're already dead and gone to her. CAN YOU EHAR HOW LOUDLY SHE IS IGNORING YOU BECKY WALLACE AND EMILY OBRIGHT! The volumes to which she doesn't care is deafening!)...

(Hint: She cares. Loudly.)
(were she talking to them)
(which she is not.)
(Loudlier!)

"You guys got middle named. Are you in trouble?" ON the positive side (for some) Hya is alive and thriving after this storm even though she was out of town and incommunicado. "Well, Joanthan, when spring break hits you should kick out to Georgia. It's pretty. Historic. I'll introduce you to everyone. I should know them by then." For now/ There's a stage and Becky & Emily no one else...officially. Per Hya. Then there's the curiosity. This feels way too deja vu as she summons some regal benevolence to her posture that not enough Addingtons use for the forces of good and ascends the stage careful not to trip over her dress now. 15 more feet...10...5...DISCO!

Wait, was tghat his name called out? Why would... ahem. Jonathan pauses momentary as he hears the names called out. "Don't know if I'm in more trouble than usual, really," he replies, with a grin, before he nods as he hears the part about going to Georgia when spring break hits. "Sure," he replies, before he follows Hyacinth up to the stage, gllancing out into the room momentarily as he walks.

The only way out is through. This is the tenet that Ravn keeps telling everyone who'll listen and quite a few people who won't. Stick with the team, make it to the other side.

How did he ever come up with this idea?

It's just a kiss, right?

Okay, he's not really into blokes.

It's just a freaking kiss.

In front of Hyacinth Addington.

Let's just stand here and do absolutely nothing like a good little deer looking at an oncoming train, Ravn's brain helpfully decides.

Javier's the most reluctant prom king in the history of illegitimate prom kings to ever wear the crown; and if looks could kill, the guy at the microphone with the receding hairline would be dead. Several times over.

Then he's told to take the dancefloor, and it's clear this whole ordeal's really starting to fucking wear on him. He'd rather be home with a bottle of cerveza and the football game. Which he was, it must be noted. And now they want him to kiss his date? Dancing is one thing. Getting up on stage is quite another. But having to make out with the most prudish man on the face of the Earth.. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," he grumbles.

And does the only reasonable thing, and reaches for a handful of copper blond hair, hauls the guy in, and plants one on his mouth. No, not a peck, a searingly hot kiss. With tongue. Fortunately, he has good dental hygiene and tastes like mint. Bonus!

And then...it all just unravels for her. This events, her carreer as a HIgh School Senior, Student Council, and then ...her boyfriend taking HER crown and being dip-snogged by her friend's manperson...wait...wait what?

So many realities collide at once not entirely waking her up from this damn dream but culminating in a meltdown of everything that is hers is now being carded off elsewhere to all the wrong people¹. It is too much and there are unshed tears (due to pride, mascara, and too much hair spray) and the glitter fingernail of doom² to Ruiz and says with a fury to suggest she is probably upset,

"Voy a Ninja luchar contigo en el camino de nuestras antepasadas, bastardo!³" Oh yeah, she is fighting back for her Man™ with bad High School Spanish.

¹Persons not Hyacinth Yvonne Addington.
²Refular nail, add glitter polis and anger.
³"I'm going to Ninja fight you in the way of our ancestors, you bastard!" ...this is probably not historically accurate, but it is Gray Harbor.

Jonathan listens, offering a bit of a nod to Ruiz as he

Jonathan listens, offering a bit of a nod to Ruiz as he hears the man being appointed King. Then he hears the rest of announcement, blinking a few times. Entirely not sure of what to say, he just watches things unfold. And then hearing Hyacinth's Spanish. A language that he doesn't really know.

Which is worst here? Truly?

It's not being kissed by de la Vega. That's not an experience Ravn is going to go home and add in his diary as the highlight of the year, but it's not quite traumatising, either. The touching. The grinding. The groping. The pink jacket. The stage. The spotlight. The angry girls approaching like cats, claws out. Hyacinth approaching, and while he does not understand Spanish either, her tone really leaves no one in doubt that she's not going to try to sell anyone cookies.

And then this bizarre parody of his mother is smothering him, and throwing herself in front of him as if taking a bullet, and really, can this just be over soon?

There has to be a way out. He tells himself to get a goddamned grip and think while whatever it was de la Vega did to his mind is working.

And there it is. All of this. A setup for an accident that might prove fatal. Ravn flails and tries to reach out with what very little power he actually possesses -- deflect those lights, make them hit the floor, do not turn Jonathan into marmalade on the floor.

Okay, so maybe Javier expected this to all play out like some bizarre little fairytale; the sluttiest guy in all of Gray Harbour kisses the biggest honking prude, and they live happily ever after and wake up from this stupid ass Dream, and he gets to go back to his fucking beer and his fucking game and his fucking night off. Right?

WRONG.

Because there's Hyacinth fucking Addington coming for him with some Spanish she scraped off the bottom of a taco bell to go box, and a horde of jealous girls who either a) hate Hyacinth and want to claw her eyes out or b) can't stand the fact that de la Vega's more into the pretty boy than these 17 year olds with the makeup he'd need a jackhammer to get through. Point being, they're all still here, and he can't fathom why.

"Mis antepasados ​​eran conquistadores, así que buena suerte con eso, querida," he snarls back at Hyacinth, and bares his teeth at the nearest girl who tries to get up in his face. Also, "This is bullshit. Any reason we shouldn't just walk out?" Surely there's a front door here somewhere.

Hyacinth goes from pointing to Ruiz to herself correcting, "Nono, I am the the Conquistadora here. I'm Conquistadorable. Ravn said so in a drunk text to Itzhak which makes it...super..." She's confusing her self on that one staring to remember, "...legit. Oh god. Oooooh god, we need to get out of here." Yeeeees, Ruiz she's now getting it.

There's a pauses and a frown as she stands there contemplating that and with one STAMP of her acrylic peg appendage covered in silver sparkles as it ought, jams right into the top of Becky's pink plastic pumps tripping her without looking. Revenge really is second nature for some but a- not her dude. b- not her crown so really it's self-defense by proxy or...something.

Time to fight the nonsense with nonsense. She looks right at Ravn's mother and says soberly, "I didn't want to tell you that Ravn's pregnant with my child but..." She lets the panic and confusion hit as she looks to Ravn quiet serious, "We got this. Take my hand! I'm getting you out of this stupid...pink... coat." She meant to say dream but god it's ... not... no and no. "Jonathan don't let them grab you, whatever you do!"

How did it all go from just a weird version of a prom to this madness? Jonathan doesn't get any time to reflect on that, as he needs to dive out of the way of those falling lights. There's far better ways to go out with lights and a huge bang than getting the lights in your head. He hurries to get back to his feet, as he hears the warning about not letting anyone grab him, trying to step away from others nearby, ready to hit anyone that tries grabbing him. "Sounds like it's time to go... somewhere else?" he calls out.

There's not enough whiskey in the world for this. That's all Ravn has time to think before he finds himself a pillow to scream into for an hour or three. Not enough whiskey.