oontz oontz oontz oontz [open]

[notlewis]

Good news, denizens of the good ship Stacy: Zokez II had quite the night life.

There was a club a short distance from the beach that promised "the hoppingingingest night in the city" in multiple languages (the message got across, at least) and once dusk had fallen you could hear the music from blocks away. Venturing inside would show off an interior design that looked like somebody had fallen in love with the neon black light posters of Earth's 1970s, with brightly colored and oddly shaped couches, stools, tables and bars. Even the drink cups looked like they'd taken a spin in a too-hot dishwasher, all varieties of strange and squiggly shapes. Aliens of all shapes and sizes had taken up along the walls and the holographic dance floor and the good times were certainly rolling.

As was the alcohol.

[ooc: OH GOD IT'S A *SPACE NIGHTCLUB*. Have at, party animals.

Here's some terrible mood music.]

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[killsfengshui.livejournal.com]

In the center of the dance floor, in the thickest crowd, Mei-Xing just stands there, eyes half-open. Occasionally she'll burst into a spot of frenzied dancing, lasting for several minutes, but then she'll fade back to the standing, grinning slightly.

She's not all there in the real world.

Her mind is in the astral realm, twisting and turning and being buffeted by the wild positive emotions filling the room, the thumping of the music almost a pulse in the life of the room. This was the main attraction for her in a dance club. Not the music, not the people (though they certainly had their good points), but the emotions the people felt. It's like being high on novacoke again, for the first time in months.

The song switches to a quick neo-techno beat, and she's twisting into action again.