((Everyone is now in The Other Side nightclub. You can continue in the group threads as long as you want, or until you find a convenient place to jump into this common thread.))


It was called a confluence... where disparate elements all come together in the same place at the same time. In theory, it could be completely coincidental. In reality, it seldom was. There was almost always some sort of cause-and-effect happening, though it wasn't always discernible.

Grendal was an odd place for it to happen. It had no political significance, it had no location significance, and it didn't have much economic significance. Its sole claim to 'fame' was merely that it was.

So if their was an actual cause for the confluence, it was so obscure that no one could see it. The effect, of course, was that a bunch of people with old connections found them here in the club.

Although the club seemed like an odd locale for that, it had a local cultural significance that acted like a magnet to draw people there.

The question now was what would become of that confluence. Would it last for maybe an evening and then dissipate as everyone went upon their merry way? Or would it gain a touch of permanence by newly discovered common interests?

Quin leans up, swirling her bubbling drink.  Removing herself from those around the bar with a soft Excuse me.

She stood closer to the safety rails overlooking the dance floor, her eyes not as meandering, but her awares always ready.

Vonon's ears twitch as the Human woman quietly excuses herself, and begins to turn away. Vonon immediately turns his attention to the female, almost as soon as she stops speaking.

"Ah! Where are my manners!" Vonon says, "Please forgive my intrusion, Mistress. It was not my intention to disrupt your conversation with my old friend, here. Please, do not let me intrude further. This old Marine and I can always tell each other lies about our war stories later, now that we know we are each here. Right, Ikram?" Vonon gives Ikram a small nudge.

"Anyways, please continue. As you were..." Vonon gestures back and forth, between Ikram and the woman; his body language clearly indicating that he is willing to walk away.

The evening found Sharik in one of the booths off to the side along the walls on the first floor.  Even in the flickering light of the dance floor disco balls, it was obviously her, resplendent in what seemed to be a casual, but undeniably stylish, set of form-fitting leathers.  The bolero-style jacket was unzipped, but the collar was still up and covered the back of her neck.  Her dark brown hair was down and bobbed easily as she moved and spoke.

From the looks of it, Shar had been at The Other Side for a while now, half-eaten appetizer plates and, at least, one empty wine bottle adorned the table top.

The youthful-looking cosmopolitan socialite was having a rather animated discussion with another woman and two men about something.  She gesticulated widely with her hands passing them near each other multiple times as she seemed to be relating a story of some sort.  An off-hand comment and the mischievous smile moments later and the foursome erupted in a bout of laughter before she continued to speak.

She shrugged slightly and then using the salt and pepper shakers on the table, Sharik demonstrated a three-dimensional passing maneuver with them.  Twice.  Once, as it should have been and then again in a less clean manner - literally, for the pepper shaker was knocked over spilling a portion of its contents on the slick surface.  The table erupted with another bout of momentary mirth as the climax was revealed and she explained exactly what had happened in no uncertain terms.

Anyone familiar with the Imperial grav-bike racing scene in the subsector, which her companions did not seem to be, would likely have already heard the story being told; Shar had had middling success on the second-tier racing circuit.  But, her reflexes weren't really all that great - definitely not enough to match her actual training and experience with the equipment.  So, even though she had been good enough to get a tryout and a minor sponsorship and contract, she never even came close to winning a big race and so her prospects (along with any delusions of a true career in it) faded away without fanfare a while ago.

Her story done, there was a lull in the conversation.  One of the young men leaned over towards Sharik, who brushed aside an errant lock of hair and nodded slightly to him, flashing him a smile.  Then they both stood and with a wave and a gesture to the other couple, started to wend their way through the crowd in the general direction of the dance floor.