[Reed Apollo]

Club Houz was a gem hidden amongst a string of seedier bars in the Ground District of Mistral. The buzzing neon sign outside didn't seem to stand out too much from any other establishment's but the place had three major things going for it. Cheap drinks, loud music, and a loyal base of established customers. Reed Apollo was one of those customers and as he sat on a comfortable sofa he felt his eyes scanning the club and taking it all in for the millionth time.

The entrance was a set of double doors and as soon as anyone walked in they would be bombarded with the thumming bass and intense rhythm of the techno music that pumped through the Soundsystem. There was a bar on the far right wall, numerous tables on with sofas on the left and in the back of the large room, sunken down and accessible by three simple steps that ran the width of the building was Club Houz's central feature. The Dance Floor.

The floor was made of individual square panels, each lighting up in a symphony of color to the music. Above lights shone in controlled patterns, shining down on the groups of people dancing. Shadows and light seeming to ascent the movement of each person. And on the back wall on an ekavated stage the DJ did his work, providing the heartbeat that all there seemed to share.

Reed grinned. It had been a hard week at Haven. His second year seemed to be pushing him even more than his first had. He constantly found himself towards the bottom of the class, but refused to allow it to stay that way. But for tonight.

"For tonight I'm gonna have some fun." He said cheerily to himself.

He raised his glass to lips and took a sip of the rich whiskey he was drinking. His black combat boots came up above the small table in front of him as he propped his feet up. The light danced off his black slacks and the golden vest he wore open with no shirt. His red, swirling arm tattoos visible. Solaris Arc was reliably strapped to his arm.

His eyes kept scanning the place. He wanted some excitement. With so many options what was gonna catch his eye?

----

Words: 382

[Kishka Burzanova]

KISHKA BURZANOVA

How long had it been since she'd been to a bar? A good few months, at least. More, probably; she'd made a point of avoiding them, in fact. For good reason, honestly. Hell, she didn't even dare show her face back at Francis's place yet. Old bastard wouldn't believe her if she told him she'd quit the sauce for good. And she wasn't sure she was ready to turn down a drink from an old friend just yet, no matter how bad the repercussions were bound to be. She'd been doing good. Small steps. And it was a celebration- right out of the Academy, she'd been hit with a job offer. Prestige. Authority. All the things she always thought she needed. Still wasn't sure if she really did or not. But she wasn't worrying about that for the night. If only for a single night, she was going to put her thoughts elsewhere for a change; no stressing about the so-called Revolutionary League, no big fires to put out across Mistral, and absolutely no time spent caged up in her bedroom, lights out, eyes wide, awake. In her own head. Her thoughts were the last companion she wanted to bring with her to the club. Still, it was unavoidable; they kinda went where she did, after all. And she had to admit, she was a little anxious as she stepped inside, slightly overdressed for the Ground District bar. Sleek black dress, vibrant tyrian heels. Shoulder-length hair swept back and gleaming fresh lavender dye. She wasn't too worried about her look, though- while unintentional, she wasn't really bothered by the stares she got as she waltzed in, almost like she was wearing Lien-scented perfume. She kinda was- the perfume she had on was a pretty pricey blend. Not that anyone who wasn't breathing down her neck would likely notice it. No, she was worried about how she was going to react to being surrounded by booze and partying. Just a year and a half ago, she might have been right in the mix, throwing back shots and having a grand time. But now, she felt old. Too old. She wasn't old. She was twenty-two. Twenty-two, and she felt like a woman two or three times her age. Maybe it was just all the shit she'd been through; she hadn't exactly had an easy run of things since Sanctum. Partying days were behind her. Made her wonder what she'd expected to find at the club, honestly. Maybe she just needed to stretch her legs a little. Blow off some steam. She strode across the bar, her plain grey umbrella, beaten and worn from her combat school days, tapping lightly against the floor as she walked. Couldn't hear it over the bass. She'd consider herself lucky if she could hear anything, after a night of that. Not that she minded it. While she generally preferred more mellow music, she wasn't opposed to heart-thumping techno, or even a little hardbass. "Mojito. Hold the rum." She half-expected a weird look from the bartender, but to his credit, he didn't seem to think much of it, setting to work on her boozeless drink. Was an easy enough one to adapt- she wasn't a big fan of the super-sweet sugary mocktails, and there weren't a ton of good non-alcoholic alternatives to most of her favorite drinks. But a mojito was easy to fake- lime juice base, some cranberry bitters, and the mint. Easy. Not the same as the real thing, but damn close. Taking a sip of her drink, she sat at the bar, gazing out into the crowd. Lot of people dancing. She thought about it, but she wasn't really feeling it yet. Maybe in a little while. Lot of people her age. She wondered what their lives were like. How peaceful it must be, living in the relative safety of the city. Far from the Grimm and most of the bandits. And now that Rybalka's band of terrorists were gone, and the Ground District, somewhat repaired, they didn't have much to worry about aside from normal day-to-day crime. Easy, uncomplicated, lives. Must be nice. She meant that- she was glad even the poorest citizens of the city could relax enough to come dance their cares away. It meant she was doing her job right. It was tiring work, and often thankless and monotonous, but it was important. She hoped none of these people would have to face the kind of hardships she'd been through. Her eyes drifted to a rather noticeable faunus sitting at one of the couches across the dance floor from the bar. Monkey faunus from the looks of him- tail was a dead giveaway. He looked familiar, but it took her a moment to place him. R name. Ren, or Red, or something. She vaguely recalled crossing paths with him a few times at Haven and Sanctum- her last and his first year at each. Didn't make much of a lasting impression on her either time, so she assumed he was probably not top-of-the-class material. Still, he was there. And she had frankly mellowed out a lot more over the years- she wasn't quite the grouchy bitch she once was. Not entirely, anyways. She gave a slight wave from across the bar, and took another sip of her drink.

WC// 890 | TWC// 890

✬

[Reed Apollo]

Reed's eyes settled on a familiar face sitting at the bar and he had to make a conscious effort not to raise an eyebrow in surprise. Kishka freaking Burzanova was apparently slumming it down in the Ground District. He had only met the girl a few times at school, the most intense conversation they had ever experienced was him asking for directions to his history classroom during his first year. At the time he had no idea who she was or her reputation in the Cloud District. It hadn't taken long to find out. Her family was what Reed considered to be on the "Stupid Rich" tier, and she was a top student and upperclassman, which made her almost a celebrity to Reed in it's own right. She gave Reed a small wave and the monkey Faunus looked around, unsure she was waving at him before giving a small wave back.

She had come in looking stunning, that was for sure. Black dress, heels, nice legs. Women were a weak point that Apollo had yet to find any sort of counter for. It was like gravity for the man, beautiful women just drew him in. He had just been looking for something to entertain himself for the evening. Besides, she had waved at him. Why not use the crack in the open door to start a conversation.


He finished his drink and pulled out his scroll. He tapped the center of the table before him where a small circle sat with the back of the scroll. There was a small ding and the edges of his table lit up red from the lights built into it. Houz was primarily a dance club, and as such had a cool little system to save your seat when you got up. The table synced to your scroll, and so long as you didn't leave the establishment the red light would stay on. It was frowned upon to take a table with a red light, and thankfully most of the patrons made it a point to enforce that idea.

He walked over to the bar and saw Kishka sipping what he quickly identified as a Mojito. Perhaps he was spending too much time in bars. He tapped the counter beside the woman.


 "Drink looks good. I'll have the same." He said to the bartender as he turned to the lavender haired beauty.

"I know this is going to sound like a line so I'll apologize in advance, but don't I know you? Haven right?" He said with a boyish grin.

The bartender sat his drink down and Reed took a sip. The drink was good, but he could taste the lack of rum as he took a sip. Virgin Mojito? interesting, but none of his business really.


"You wanna come have a seat with me? Or maybe have a dance?" He asked.

He looked down at the huntress' umbrella and his tail moved out, grabbing a drink umbrella from the edge of the bar and placing it in his Mojito.

 ---
WC: 506/888

[Kishka Burzanova]

KISHKA BURZANOVA

She took another sip of her drink as the faunus boy walked over. And she smiled, amused, as he ordered his drink and addressed her. She simply nodded. "Mm. Kishka Burzanova. You're a... second-year now, is that right? She still wasn't entirely sure of his name; hopefully he'd introduce himself proper, so she could file it away in her brain before she made a fool of herself calling him something else entirely. She cocked an eyebrow at his suggestion, but maintained her amused smile. "Don't think I'm quite up for dancing just yet tonight. But I wouldn't say no to some company." She rose from the barstool, grabbing her drink, before heading over towards the table Reed had been sitting at. She took up the seat opposite his, crossing her legs, before taking another sip of her "mojito." It was nice. Refreshing. And she was doing good; no cravings. Didn't feel like she was about to slip, or anything. She turned to her new conversational companion. "So how's Haven treating you? Everything you expected it to be and more?" A small grin broke across her face, and there was a twinkle of something in her eye. Easily mistaken for nostalgic feelings, or joviality, it was more accurately a wisp of cynical humor. She hoped Haven was treating him well. But, as a Haven graduate, she expected that that was very likely not the case. Her feelings about the school were mixed. It had been a useful experience. And Professor Shadecloak- before she'd quit- had been a wonderful teacher. Better than she could have asked for, in many ways. She was sad to see her go. And sadder, when she learned the reason. She hadn't been wrong, necessarily; the Council had asked her to send her students to a bloodbath. It was foolish, but not something Kishka considered worth leaving Haven over. If anything, they needed her there more than ever. The next generation of trainees needed a cool, rational, brain to guide them through an often irrational world. Kishka had gone on that suicide mission. But she'd done so because felt the cause was just, and she understood the risks. Better than anyone. That was why her weapon was melted to slag, before she had the opportunity to escape. Others were not so lucky, but importantly, many of those others had never had a chance to start with. The Council was sick. Diseased with a terminal lack of understanding for the lives of those beneath them. They sat on pedestals they bought with corruption and greed, and glowered down on the common Mistralians. None of them cared about the students at Haven- genuinely, truly, cared, about their supposed protectors of tomorrow. The Huntsman Academies were just a tool to be used by those in charge. It was disgusting. She glanced curiously to Reed. Wondered where he would end up, a few years out. Would he be in Mistral, risking his skin for a city that wouldn't care if he died in the line of duty? Serving as a Huntsman, protecting the vested interests of the Council elite, even though many among them would sooner have him shipped off to Menagerie, for nothing more than his lineage? Sometimes she wondered why she did it. Why she was working for the kingdom's leaders. She could be somewhere else, making a bigger difference where it mattered. She could be out, fighting the Revolutionary League, on the ground. Down in the trenches, with her fellow Huntresses and Huntsmen, facing down Grimm and villains alike. She did some of that, anyways. But it wasn't the point of her job. She was aware of that. She was the Big Damn Hero, sent by Mistral to handle things that would make the Council look good. And she was the scapegoat, when those things went wrong. It was funny. Working so hard to be the fall guy for crooked politicians. But she had a plan. She always had a plan. She swirled her drink, gazing out into the dancing crowds. "Wish I'd have found this place sooner. It's nice. Good place to come and hide away from everything." She smiled, a barely visible hint of wistfulness on her lips.

WC// 706 | TWC// 1596

✬

[Jay]

XP Distribution:

Reed Apollo: 8 XP
87 + 8 = 95 XP

Kishka Burzanova: 16 XP
47 + 16 = 63 XP