Olin & Varan - The Ironwood Rave Part 2
“See? That wasn’t so hard. He passed a prismatic shirt, it was sleeveless with an oversized zipper in front and would barely cover her ribs. It looked two sizes too small the material was very stretchy. “Try that and we’ll layer …. This on top.” He said passing her something that vaguely looked like a shit made up of colorful strings of thin beads. “Shoes are going to be hard … I am pretty sure I don’t have anything in your size that would work so you just might have to slum it in your sneakers. You're wearing sneakers right?” He asked skimming through all the different colored and modded rave shoes and boots.
“What’s wrong with my shoes?” She complained, her arms now full of his clothes. “Is the point of it all to not match anything?”
“It doesn’t match. Just not in a conventional manner. We are going more practical since that seems to currently be your only speed.” Olin said pointedly. “Purple and silver with the earth tone beads. Metallic, shiny theme. The clothing is light you'll stay cool but … conservative. You’ll scream newbie but you’ll also fit in. The only thing that doesn't match is your shoes. Go on … change.” Olin said with a shoo motion.
Varan gave a mock exasperated sigh, and stepped behind a partition. “I thought the point was to stand out,” she groused, sliding off her baggy pants for ones that shimmered. Big at the waist, it clung to her thighs billowing out slightly at the ankles. The top was much tighter, leaving, in Varan’s mind, little to the imagination. She twice had to adjust the fabric to keep from giving a peep show.
“Yes, but there is standing out in a look at me I'm desperate for attending and clearly have daddy issues and standing out while exploring and expressing yourself.” Olin explained looking through a drawer and passing cinch pins that looked like little cat paws. They pinned into the pants and the little paws clipped together. Tightening the pants without a belt.“Trust me you want the pants snug, not on the waist below it, they are rave pants, not mom pants.”
“Right, because everyone puts their genitals on display,” she noted.
“And what's wrong with that if that's what they want to do?” Olin asked with a tilt of his head as look at accessories and makeup.
Varan held up her hands, there was no arguing with Olin when it came to his parties, she’d realized that pretty early on. Olin’s father, of course, would prefer he pursue other activities, but, Varan also knew that the key to success with Olin was balance. They’d go to this rave, she’d have a good time, and in exchange, he’d put up less of a disagreement the next time an obligation came up.
“You seem to have a very unhealth relationship with your body. Going to a rave occasionally might do you some good.” Olin and he sifted through the box of makeup, both practical and theatrical.
“On the contrary. I frequent the gym, follow a regimented diet, and care about what goes into my body, where as a rave seems to be the antithesis. What exactly is in a red devil?” She asked him. “And I know you’re not exactly discerning about who you’re with.”
“You’ll have to ask Mathias, also good luck with that.” Olin snorted. “A rave is what ever you want or need it to be. For some it the only time the will get to blow of steam from the grind of the Sprawl. For others to pretend to be someone else where no one knows or cares who you are. You wanna drop some Halos? Go nuts. You wanna stay clean and vibe with the music. No one is stopping you but also no one is judging you either. Dosn’t matter who you are or where your from it’s all PLUR.”
“Says the guy who told me I looked like I just left a pop concert and made me change,” Varan teased. “Besides, if I get swept up in the rave culture, your father will replace me, and your new handler wouldn’t be nearly as fun,” Varan said, pulling a silk scarf from a velvet hanger to tie around her waist.
“Because I am your friend am I am not going to let you walk into a place sticking out like a sore thumb. Also that is 4,000 credit handpainted Mulberry Silk scarf from Japan. Im not saying don’t wear it but I am saying it’s fabulous and people be touching on it.” Olin warned.
“Oh, I’m sorry, were you saving it to gift one of your conquests?” She teased again, taking off the scarf. “Four K Credits, with my luck someone will use it to wipe their mouth after they vomit.”
“That is a certainty.” Olin said taking another scarf off an hanger and passed to Varen, it had little silver bells that tingled.”You need help with makeup? Or do you think you ready to do your own.”
Varan removed her sunglasses. “Go on. Paint me like one of your French Girls,” she said in a mock breathless voice.
Olin laughed. “Baby steps Varan. Just tell my father what an awful time you had …” He smirked taking out the eyeliner like it was a weapon.
“I am telling your father I went to ensure you stayed out of trouble,” Varan said, tilting her head back to let him work. “Which will only work if you actually stay out of trouble.”
“I wish you lots of luck Varan.” Olin said innocently, as je yaered maku up on her face, with metallic colors around her eyes and enough glitter to make a disco ball blush. He accented with stick on jewels. “See? Painless!”
“In keeping you out of trouble?” She asked, quickly dropping the sunglasses back over her eyes. “He’s looking to bring you back home, you know. Let’s not give him any ammunition for that.”
“Yes well it’s always something new and exciting with him.” Olin said dryly. “He wants me to do something for him.” He concluded. “Something I might emphatically say no to so I would do anything to stay were I am.”
“I’ve sent him a proposal regarding your DJing with profits going to charity which I think will definitely bring some positive PR to the company. And we can use the venture to rebrand a couple of marketplaces which have grown a little stagnant. Hopefully I can convince him to come on board,” Varan said, not recognizing herself in the full length mirror.
“Have them give a token amount to be sponsors to get there names visibility.” Olin suggested. “See now you look like you going to a rave! No more business talk time to dance till the sun comes up!”
Varan pushed the elevator button, trying not to focus on how ridiculous she felt, but soon enough they were on their way.