Inside the Penumbra club the air was charged with a boisterous, lecherous energy. The thrumming baseline of the song playing over the sound system was so intense it could be felt in the feet of the patrons. All manner of Fallen and curious Guardians congregated in loud, animated groups spread throughout the club. The odd awoken also can be spotted, invariably hiding their face. Not wanting to be seen in such a seedy place.

The clientele drink, gamble and engage in other acts as the smell of beer and ether hang heavy in the air. An Eliksni's voice comes onto the PA system and chirps an announcement in its alien tongue and the energy noticeably shifts among the regulars to one of excitement. The Guardians don't notice, dancing to music for a change.

The Eliksni crowd around the platform in the center of the Club, hugging the edges tightly, looking up and roaring in anticipation. A Eliksni emerges from behind the red curtains, swaying their hips as they walk up to the pole extending from the platform to the ceiling. Immediately they strike as distinctive from the way their plates were colored, painted with twisting, swirling patterns that ran across their scantily clad frame, It contrasted with the Marauder helmet they wore, painted a striking red and decorated with swirls that matched the ones on the Dancer's body. The eyelights burned a fierce teal as they took a hold of the pole and began to dance for the cheering crowd.

Their dancing was specifically choreographed to be in a lewd and seductive fashion, the dancer clinging to the pole and gyrating their body around it, highlighting their hips and waist, surprisingly thin by Eliksni standards. They threw a leg up around the pole and flexed the muscular thigh, using it as support as they hung upside down on the pole, outstretching their arms towards the awestruck crowd. Their lithe agile frame swinging back up before they slide down and dismount the pole, picking back up on the dancing.

From the back of the Club, Dharis takes note of the dancer and the gnawing, creeping feeling of familiarity becomes all the more stronger as he notices the design of the helmet, the painting on the Dancer's plates. Realization strikes him like a hammer to the skull. "VIIKS!?" He barks aloud in a confused, horrified voice.

The Dancer hears the calling of their name. It wasn't uncommon for patrons to get a bit excited, there were a few that would even pleasure themselves to their dancing. But the voice wasn't rife with arousal, or excitement. But confusion, disgust. Viiks meets the gaze of Dharis, his Older Brother, and his heart skips a beat, his lungs fall into his stomach and his stomach churns. With one final, half-hearted flourish he spins around the pole before cutting the show short and retreating into the curtain, not bothering to scoop up the small fortune of Glimmer thrown before him.

Back on the floor, the patrons slowly dispersed from the platform, off to drink or gamble some more now that their favorite dancer was offstage. Dharis pushes through them as he tries to get backstage. He's stopped by the eight foot tall Bouncer guarding the entrance, the bulky Eliksni stopping Dharis with a single hand on his chest and a mean look. Dharis pressed against the hand, meeting the Bouncer's gaze. Sharing a silence that built up like static charge, his hands ball into fists. "I need to get back there." He says in a tone that implied he wasn't taking no for an answer.

Backstage, Viik's head spun as he went back to his prep room, practically collapsing on the couch and struggling to remove his helmet as he tried to control his breathing. That couldn't have been him. N-No. Someone who looked like him, maybe. Oh Stars…. He thought.

The Bouncer scoffs. "No chance, buddy." He replies tonelessly. Ready to haul Dharis out by his second set of arms before a small voice emerges from behind them both. "It's ok, F. Let him in." The Bouncer looks back to Viiks with a skeptical look before standing aside. Dharis walks by him and stops a few steps before the Dancer, now without his helmet. His eyes mist as he looks up to Dharis, the same heartache being felt by his big brother.

"Viiks….it's really you."

"D-Dharis…" The Eliksni dancer struggles to find the words, what could he say? The pair of them were practically estranged. He hadn't made the attempt to contact him, let alone any of their siblings, apart from Fiiks. He felt all the suppressed guilt and shame of the action weigh down on him in that moment. "...long time no-" He begins, only to be cut off by his brother.

"This is what you left home for?" He begins, the crack in his voice betraying his heartbreak. The sadness in his tone. "You told me you wanted to be an outfitter...I remember the cloak you made for me, the one with the frill. I still have it, it's beautiful…" He continues, his shoulders slumping as he sits in a nearby chair slightly too small for him, creaking under the weight.

"I never gave that up, Dharis." Viiks begins in a soft voice. "Everything I wear, I made myself."

"And is that supposed to make me feel better, knowing you make lingerie?"

"It's not like that! I'm taking care of myself. I still do make my cloaks and my outfits. I…" Viiks sputters in protest, trying to claw some words past his throat that could explain to Dharis everything, all the years they'd been separated. Dharis and him share a silence before he is pulled into his brother's arms, Dharis hunching over his smaller frame as he sniffs.

"I'm just...I'm glad you're ok. I'm glad I could see you again."

Viiks feels his eyes mist as he wraps an arm around Dharis' back. "Yeah. I'm glad you're ok too…"