[Truth be told, Nai'a Nights really doesn't feel like a job.]
[Oh, Beatrice has to do things. She's learning that. She can't just decide not to go to work because she doesn't feel like it, which is sort of like an obligation, she supposes. But when she takes time to think about it, Nai'a is much nicer than her empty apartment full of scrap and debris, vacant except for her. She's happier at Nai'a, because it's always busy. There are always people and noise and so much movement, people enjoying themselves, explosive energy and fascinating conversation.]
[And of course, she gets to show off.]
[Her show is still a work in progress. The more power she gains, the more she gets used to this new body, the more ideas she gets. The problem now is streamlining them. So far, she's largely followed the lead of other performers, most of whom aren't actually mers, but for the last week or so she's been incorporating more and more flare. For example: whispers resonate throughout the bar in the moments before her performance begins, announcing her arrival. Her eyes glow red along with her mouth, long enough for a leisurely lap of the tank, before returning to their normal color. She projects her voice, calling all to watch the wonders she's about to perform, announcing the arrival of Beatrice the Golden—]
[—fish. (She doesn't actually say that part.)]
[Sometimes, in between performances, she naps in her tank. Not all the time, but who's it going to hurt when she feels like it? No one, that's who. So that's where she is today when bass vibrations hum her awake. Opening one eye and then the other, she squints at the pane of glass across from her and yawns, watching it vibrate in time with the music.]
[It doesn't take long for her curiosity to get the best of her. She swims lazily out into the open and up to the side of the tank, peering out at the stage. There's just one person up there, one girl. She's seen her around before, but never heard her play before. Drumming her nails thoughtfully on the glass, she listens for a few bars, then opens her mouth and lets out a haunting hum that replicates those last few bars, amplified to be audible outside of the tank.]
11/10ish; continuing my domination of your inbox
[Oh, Beatrice has to do things. She's learning that. She can't just decide not to go to work because she doesn't feel like it, which is sort of like an obligation, she supposes. But when she takes time to think about it, Nai'a is much nicer than her empty apartment full of scrap and debris, vacant except for her. She's happier at Nai'a, because it's always busy. There are always people and noise and so much movement, people enjoying themselves, explosive energy and fascinating conversation.]
[And of course, she gets to show off.]
[Her show is still a work in progress. The more power she gains, the more she gets used to this new body, the more ideas she gets. The problem now is streamlining them. So far, she's largely followed the lead of other performers, most of whom aren't actually mers, but for the last week or so she's been incorporating more and more flare. For example: whispers resonate throughout the bar in the moments before her performance begins, announcing her arrival. Her eyes glow red along with her mouth, long enough for a leisurely lap of the tank, before returning to their normal color. She projects her voice, calling all to watch the wonders she's about to perform, announcing the arrival of Beatrice the Golden—]
[—fish. (She doesn't actually say that part.)]
[Sometimes, in between performances, she naps in her tank. Not all the time, but who's it going to hurt when she feels like it? No one, that's who. So that's where she is today when bass vibrations hum her awake. Opening one eye and then the other, she squints at the pane of glass across from her and yawns, watching it vibrate in time with the music.]
[It doesn't take long for her curiosity to get the best of her. She swims lazily out into the open and up to the side of the tank, peering out at the stage. There's just one person up there, one girl. She's seen her around before, but never heard her play before. Drumming her nails thoughtfully on the glass, she listens for a few bars, then opens her mouth and lets out a haunting hum that replicates those last few bars, amplified to be audible outside of the tank.]