Post by Sable Jenkins on May 30, 2007 4:03:55 GMT 7
Note :: For the sake of entertainment, feel free to create a friendship (however strong or weak) between Sable and your character.
A thin border lies between intoxication and the dizziness of a couple drinks flowing through your bloodstream. A distant throbbing echoes in your ears and everything appears further away than it really is. It is always difficult to describe in words -- you would have to experience it to really grasp the concept. Time and space no longer seem to matter and the only presence is your own feet sweeping across the floor in an elegant, or not so elegant, betrayal. You might not naturally be inclined to dancing in public with strangers all feeling like a transparent helium lifted them away from the world. It just might not be your gig.
It definitely wasn't a natural scene for Sable. Yes, he would drink on occasion and sometimes he would down enough to feel the mild tingling in his bones. He was never lifted up on a make believe helium balloon, however, and he never intended to be that drunk. Drinking was something his mother used to do when she got a speeding ticket or had a pedestrian walk out in front of her just enough to make steps fall out of balance. It was a way to escape when you were pissed at the world - or so she thought.
For Sable, it was a way to relax. He wouldn't, however, drink more than two beers if a friend wasn't around to help keep him in check. He was responsible, despite his fluffy demeanor, when it came to alcohol. With friends, he was more willing to let loose and have fun. Of course, they always scheduled a cab for pick-up before anyone got too far gone. Most of the time, one would stay sober to keep the others on their feet. Tonight, that person was Sable.
Surrounded by strobe lights and brilliant shade colours, a crowd was twirling and singing on the dancefloor. When everyone chimed in together, the noise was pure. It didn't matter if one person was screaming and the other was whispering -- collectively, they were one, melodic voice. It was one of the reasons Sable enjoyed the club so much. To him, it was the second best thing to art. If he could capture that sound on paper, he would. If he could paint it, he would. In fact, one day he would probably create a metaphorical collaboration to install a sense of melody in multiple brushstrokes of every colour. But for now, he stood with a group of people laughing and dancing. It was a Friday night and he had nowhere to be all weekend. The night was young and it was his to enjoy.