1964-05-31 - A Dazzle in Lux
Summary: Dazzler gives an impromptu performance in Lux.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
dazzler lucian 

Madness courses through the club in the late hours once true darkness settles over New York. This close to the summer solstice, lengthening days eat up the hours when partiers gather under cover of dark. Young, beautiful, and stylish things prowl the main floor of Lux. Libations poured from the fascinating collection of bottles behind the glistening bar have a slight element of mad apothecary and chemist going on. Oddly it's not a man tending bar but a pair of women. They couldn't be more different if they tried, a tall, lithe dark-haired woman with a cool expression alongside a strawberry blonde Ursula Andress-type. They move around one another, serving up flutes of herbal elixirs to the staff.

Lucian himself lounges beside the piano placed centrestage under a shaft of brilliant light. A martini glass is his poison of choice, and the Steinway awaiting for the muse. As much as live music is a fixture of the place, sometimes they rely on recorded. Various acts have graced that stage, selected with a connoisseur's eye for skill. The blond man wears an unusual addition to his black slacks and white buttoned shirt: a velvet jacket in deepest rose, trimmed in dark copper. It's a bold choice for a man, but he makes it look utterly natural. "Maz," he calls out to the dark-haired bartender. "She's on the house, understood?"

Alison arrives fashionably late, nothing that would come as a shock, while she was a rising star and a hot name with her dazzling act, under the fitting moniker Dazzler, she was still a young woman. A high school dropout. And notorious for enjoying life and taking it easy.

But despite being tardy, arrive she does, wearing her namesake dazzling dress. A glittering halter dress, beaded with mirrored beads and crystals. Needless to say, the lady likes to be the center of attention. As she walks in, she stops to take in the place, exclaiming in excitment, "this club is goregous! It will absolutely do!"

Upstairs, the mezzanine hums with its own entirely different vibe front the first floor. Shadows veil the figures up there, reducing them to silhouettes. The occasional monochrome flash of a glittering dress or a suit jacket imply the revelers on high are a touch more sedate, more about drinking and talking than recreating a dance hall. They have a fine view, if they dare to look out.

A few might, enraptured by the woman's shining dress. What possibly keeps their attention is the blond raising his martini in a toast, standing by the piano as though it's some ancient Egyptian artifact dug up from the desert sands. He dares to place the martini glass on the polished surface of the grand piano, a heinous crime. At least he has a coaster in Cork down.

Lucian extends his hand to Dazzler — Allison, however she has introduced herself to him. Long fingers cup upward to catch her hand if she offers, naturally giving some assistance if she steps up to the instrument. "Welcome to Lux. We strive to create at atmosphere like no other in New York. It's but a setting for the diamonds that sometimes fall to earth."

Dazzler is how she most often introduces herself, and for the longest time, her real name was not so much a secret, as much as nobody cared to learn it. But following her appearance on th Ed Sullivan show, more people know it then don't. She does approach the stage and reaches for Lucian's hand, taking his offered help in getting levelled with the piano, which she does admire with her gaze ahead of Lucian. Sure, he's a very fine looking man, and dressed to impress no less. But she is a musician at heart, and the glorious instrument captures her attention first and foremost, "that is quite the piano, Lucian, if I may address you by your given name?"

It's Lucian's phrasing that makes her turn her head to look his way, "now that is the poet's way to describe it…have you dabbled in writing songs?"

The French stylings of the Steinway assure the instrument is custom, at the very least, and from the top end of the range. It will have no issue filling Lux with its trembling notes even at the highest octave. Satiny wood practically gleams under its own light. Not for nothing does Lucian treat it with a respect he might give an employee or a friend, trustworthy companion it is. He smiles at Dazzler's response to the instrument. It's a mutual understanding, wrought in the smile at his mouth and the knowledge in summer-sky blue eyes. "You may. I have no reason to stand on being Mr. Venere," he explains simply enough. Standing aside and releasing her hand allows her to sit at the bench or signal a drink, if she wants. There is a certain freedom to the meeting, after all.

"I sometimes write, though my talents go elsewhere much of the time. Call it a gift for speaking things as I see them. And delighting in language. Words are powerful, but you surely know that." He grins.

Dazzler grins impishly as Lucian seems to agree with her sentiments, "and Ms. Blaire sure sounds stuffy and nonsensical to me," she reaches with a white gloved hand towards the piano, looking at Lucian for permission, "may I?" She asks before daring to touch the instrument, despite it's appeal. She sometimes knows where are good places to keep to manners. Besides, this perfection of a piano demands it.

"I once was told that anyone younger than 18, writing poetry, is a teenager. Anyone writing poetry, older than 20, is a poet." She puts on a radiant smile and accusses playfully, "I'd say regardless of whether professionally published or not, that would make you a poet, Lucian. I appreciate that. Words draw powerful paintings…"

"By all means." Recapturing his martini is just the thing. Lucian takes a sip of the muddled drink, its unique signature teasing his palate. "Though be warned, everyone in here will hear the first note you play." As if that could be a detraction for a musician of any kind. Those smooth ivory keys and scalloped edges breathe a dynamic life into the piano. It near to hums with its own energy.

The music ceases playing from the speakers based on a well-timed gesture of his fingers. Hard for someone to spot, that cue nonetheless brings down a hush over Lux. Diners continue their conversations and drinks in the hushed environment. Poor for eavesdropping, the main floor, despite the acoustics being remarkable. They know what the silence means, the regulars.

"Let me hear your voice in poetry, and forget what anyone else things of age. Anyone can be a poet," he murmurs over his glass. "How many are a muse?"

Looking like the kid who just got the gift she coveted on Christmas, Dazzler beams with delight as she reahes to sit at the piano. Taking a mere moment to straighten her dress, before moving her hands and gently placing her fingers at the keys. The warning she's given, whether playful or earnest, only serves to further excite her.

She listens to Lucian's words, nodding along, age after all, truly shouldn't matter with music. She then closes her eyes, and takes in a deep breath. She then lets her fingers start their dance across the keys, and while she's mostly known for her avant garde sound with her psychedellic rock, and the dazzling light shows that accompany her act. This time, on this magnificent piano, she plays a classic, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. If uninterrupted, she will play the entire piece and only open her eyes once done, an intoxicated smile beset on her lips, as she turns to look up at Lucian, "this piano is a masterpiece. Thank you for letting me play it."

The excitement of sitting between the custom concert piano is enough of a reward in its own right. Lucian drinks in the responses, as much as Dazzler's impromptu audience does. He watches with great detail the way her fingers settle onto the keys and how she sits on the bench. The dress certainly provides a distraction, shining mirrors and all. But he has much more interest in the nonverbal communication of her body, how the performer in her comes to learn a new friend's abilities.

When she starts to play, his eyes lid. The first bars of Beethoven induce a moody lull to the conversations, quiet as they are. Most can identify the Moonlight Sonata after a few bars, and the moody sorrows and joys stitched into the notes are meant to beguile the mind. And they do. With the reach of a concert hall, the piano under her talented hands sings to the furthest corner where some employee unloads stock, all the way down to the cellar.

Long after she stops playing, he watches, lost in his own thoughts. "What thanks is necessary when you gift us with that?"

Alison's hand lingers a moment on the keys, caressing the piano as she might a beloved pet, before finally getting back on her feet. "Very kind of you to say, Lucian, thank you," she seems genuinely pleased with the compliment. "You must know I usually play the guitar, it's a rare treat to touch a piano such as this," she notes and then asks, "don't mean to be rude, but could I be treated for a drink? An apple martini perhaps…?" She asks with a softer smile, "I would love to play this venue, but I must warn you…my performance, as you may have heard, is not too traditional. Have you been told about me? Or perhaps even had a chane to attend a performance?"

He doesn't tuck in the bench or otherwise assure himself the piano is well. Some people might be possessive in that fashion, but Lucian doesn't appear to be one of them. "The guitar is a different beast from a piano. No less a worthy tool to tell your story with." He smiles, and the question does not cause the least amount of offense. Rather, he laughs in a warm rumbling of thunder. "Of course you may! I would never have it said Lux stinted on hospitality to its guests and performers. Come, the choice is yours. We have uncommon drinks here, but I know we have a good pressed apple cider that might blend particularly well. Maz will know." Waiting for Dazzler to go ahead of him, he shadows her to the bar. "Traditional music has its place. It's popular, but anyone can go to the Village Vanguard to hear jazz. I want to hear the spirit of the zeitgeist. Be as avant garde as you want. I've heard something of your music, yes. Hard not to in this city."

"Also has the added benefit of being far easier to carry about," Alison adds with a playful wink. She rather likes the reply about a potential drink, as she turns towards the bar, "splendid, than all should be well. I would enjoy playing your venue, you could tell attention has been paid to every detail…I could come here just to relax and have a good time."

He waves a hand and chuckles, easing himself between two of the shapely stools. Lucian leans against the bar and the strawberry blonde comes over to take their order. It's a quiet exchange, the explanation of the bottles to use proof he knows about his liquors and how they combine. Chances are he's comfortable behind the bar as much as in front of it. An empty glass left there vanishes a moment later, carried off to be washed. He turns then to Alison, giving her his attention. "Thank you. It's a very competitive market out there. I wouldn't dream that we are the sole home to any given performer unless they wish to be."

Alison observes the careful attention paid to the craft of mixing drinks, this was not unlike her handling of the piano. True love to a skillset or profession is easy to tell by the care and attention it's given. "My, this looks so good," she says once a drink is handed to her, reaching for a careful sip, before her eyes light up in pleasure, "simply delicious! I think that's a fair exchange of music and good drink."

The blend of unexpected liquors and herbs, elixirs and tinctures is meant to be something of a wizard's brew. Bartenders are modern day alchemists, in their way. Lucian smiles at the woman fixing their drinks, and she waits to see whether it meets muster. Lucian hasn't added something for himself, but given he was already drinking, this is probably a reasonable amount of restraint. "We aim to please. The desserts are divine, as far as I am concerned."

"Oh no, are you going to tempt me to try a dessert now? I'm helpless against those," Alison laughs and shakes her head, no doubt foreseeing the losing battle if she's accidentally presented with such a sweet taste of what Lucian just called divine.

Lucian raises his hand and shakes his golden blond hair. "Never. Perish the notion I would force such a terrible thing upon you. I cannot help if you find the options delectable." He manages to contain some of the intense amusement he takes at the notion, and turns his gaze out over the club briefly. Like a hawk watching the flock, he waits for that moment when he needs to pounce. "I do hope you will consider Lux as a venue for any of your performances. Open or intimate ones, we are capable of handling them both. And, of course, you are always welcome as a patron."

"You're a man of good character, Lucian," Alison extends her hand towards the well dressed man, "I think I can welcome this arrangement, I would make sure to enjoy the Lux both on and off the stage." This time her smile seems to literally glitter, as in, actual glitter, but only for a brief moment.

"Outstanding." With a firm nod, Lucian offers her a smile and then takes Allison's hand in his own. His skin is warm. "Outstanding then. I'm afraid you shall have to forgive me, but I need to see to business for the rest of the evening. Do consider a dessert, and let Maz know if you require anything else."

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