You thrust your body in time with the music as you try to remain an individual among the sea of bodies. This club is new, but the experience is not. All songs sound the same when they are loud enough, and once you have been in one mosh pit, you have been in them all.

You are here because you are looking for something, even though you are not sure what exactly it is that you are looking for. Is it passion? Is it companionship? Or is it the simple desire to be part of something more?

This is Nimue's Bar.

“So K, see anyone you like?” Nimue asks, arching her eyebrows suggestively. The flashing lights of the club briefly illuminate her impish face. Tonight, she has taken the form of a tall, full-figured man with a series of tattoos in Korean across the face. It's one of her favorite forms for when she doesn't want to be recognized, although Kaia secretly wonders if she wears it because she knows that Kaia finds it attractive. One could never tell with Nimue.

Kaia grunts noncommittally into her drink and scratches at the bandages on her hand. “See anyone you don't?”

“Come on, K,” Dirk rumbles, sidling up to them. “What do you even come here for?” The three of them have only been here half an hour and Dirk already smells of alcohol and his gray beard droops like the whiskers of a tired cat. Not that smelling of alcohol means much of anything; as a shifter he metabolizes drinks at a ludicrous rate.

To be fair, it isn't as if the alcohol is doing much for Kaia, either. Even after several years, she is still getting a handle on what still affects her body, and in what ways. Her heart does not beat, but she still has to breathe. She cannot sleep, but still managed to knock herself out when she tripped over a pile of boxes in the bar's stock room. She can eat, but she cannot get drunk, which is odd since she is fairly certain that her internal organs have long since stopped functioning.

“I'm here because you two dragged me here,” Kaia grumbles, examining the dark red liquid in her spindly glass. Looking through it makes the mosh pit in front of them hazy and indistinct, a shapeless mass absorbing and regurgitating the occasional person or couple.

Dirk leans over the table to her, face full of affected concern. “Come on, we both know you need some action. You're wound tighter than a Bleeder's asshole. Everyone can see it.”

Nimue grins lazily, a look which Kaia has come to heartily dislike. “I think we both know how this is going to end. Through a series of increasingly improbable events, you'll accidentally grind on Dirk, and then you'll end up macking on each other by the end of the night.”

Dirk covers his face with his hands, and Kaia stands up, slamming her glass down onto the table. “Damn it, Nimue, it was one time. ONE TIME.” She can feel herself blushing, or whatever it is that her body does now in order to simulate blushing. It was years ago. She didn't know back then that Dirk wasn't interested in women. He and Nimue find it funny and enjoy brining it up as they can, to Kaia's intense embarassment.

Nimue shrugs, still grinning. The club lights play off her different colored irises. “I can't help it if I like to keep tabs on the amorous actions of my employees.”

“You know what?” Kaia says. “Screw both of you. I'll see you tomorrow, assuming I don't just quit.” Kaia stalks away toward the mosh pit, doing her best to ignore the laughter of her coworkers. This is not how she wanted to spend her night off. Stupid Nimue. That succubus stuck her nose into everything.

Despite what she might tell Nimue, Kaia loves coming here, and especially loves dancing. There is something appealing to her about utterly losing herself in a crowd and letting the music suffuse her. Back when she was human, she would never have gone into a crowd like this alone. As a shade, though, most people's eyes tend to slide right over her. Even in this particular club, where the patrons are entirely extranormal, if they do not look directly at her they might not even notice her at all. The crowd unconsciously moves to accept her, allowing her space to dance.

She is uncertain how long she dances. The alternating flashes of light— blue, red, blue, red –lull her into the closest state she has been able to come to sleep since she became a shade. She just lets her body to take over, moving to the oppressive beat of a song remixed so many times that it has become unidentifiable. She could stay like this forever.

When Kaia opens her eyes, she notices a younger man close to her in the crowd. She can't see much of his face, but he's there, and that's what matters. When she slides in front of him, he jerks back in surprise. People tend to react like that when noticing her for the first time, as if she had dropped out of the sky in front of them. Kaia examines him carefully. He seems normal enough, betrayed only by the glowing tattoo on his shoulder. Probably a mage; the closest one can come to human here. He would do.

Kaia puts on her most winning smile. It's a little shaky, and doesn't quite reach her eyes. She points at the mage, then points at herself. He smiles, and they begin to dance together.

#

Even though the alcohol never catches up to Kaia, the rest of the night is a blur. She remembers pinning him to the wall outside of the club and kissing his neck with as much force as she can bear. She remembers him opening the door to his apartment without touching it, boasting about how powerful his magic was, and her tearing open the buttons on his cheap dress shirt in order to get him to shut up.

Now she lies on the bed next to him as he slumbers peacefully, his neck covered in bruises. Kaia stares up at the moldy ceiling. Eventually she gets to her feet and yanks on her black tank top and holey jeans. She spares a look back at the mage, sprawled across the bed, his tattoo still glimmering brightly. With a sigh, she pulls the covers over him and brushes his hair back before exiting his room. In the morning, he will wake up with a splitting headache, and the memory of coming home with someone whose name and face he cannot quite recall. Kaia spares only a moment staring at the pictures on his wall showing a massive network of family and friends. Next to him, the two coworkers who happen to be able to remember her name seems rather pitiful. She lingers a moment longer, scratching her initial into the wall by the door. Then the apartment door closes, and she is gone.