To say the breakup had changed anything at Kallisti would be an understatement. But Nox did his best not to let it interfere with anything. He didn't ignore Raffe. He included him whenever he was around. Flirting with him like the rest. From the outside things looked the same, but on the inside, everyone knew there was tension. Nox ignored it like he ignored the concerned look from the girls. If they didn't look the same at Raffe he'd have said something.
He was looking for someplace else to live, but everything in his body said that the day he moved out was the day it was truly over between him and Raffe. And he still held on to a small sliver of hope. It was the tiny sliver that got him out of bed in the morning.
His days bled together a monotony of the same thing day in and day out out ad nauseum in order to put one foot in front of the other. Wake up, yoga, run, bring everyone including Raffe breakfast and coffee, check on the girls in the tunnels, domovoi, check on the girls on his way home and run the routes around Kallisti, work the club and new material, after his shift it was fights and fucking. Wasn't hard to pick out a girl on any given night and leave before she was even asleep. Some night they didn't even make it out of the dredges of the Almaz. And then home to sleep in his own bed with his door closed and wrapped in a cacoon of silencing air so Raffe didn't hear him cry himself to sleep.
He'd started working the stage more. A small skit every night something to push his boundaries and keep him from falling into the sesspool of his life. It was the one time he was happy -- dancing on stage. He'd trashed the work in progress in favor of things that made fun of the gods -- made fun of himself. He was working on something bigger but it wasn't quite ready yet. And he was saving it for Thal anyway, with who he texted everyday to make sure he was alright.
He hung out with Oriena more. Their darkness finding kinship. And tonight was one of those night. He even took most of the night off at the club just to hang with her. Juls insisted he wear at least part of his costume out. The gold and green flames having been a hit with the girls back stage. The make up only drew upon it. He left the feathered boa at home and opted for the outfit he'd wear typically to fight.
The past few weeks had seen a change in Nox. The happy-go-lucky exterior became much more flamboyant as he embraced the virality of the shows and the fights. People in the right circles recognized him and it made skulking the streets more difficult than he needed.
So he embraced the persona -- after 6pm he was someone else -- not the depressed kid living above a burlesque club, no, now he was this popular fighter with a flair for theatrics. He didn't win every fight, usually that was a choice Nox had made going in, not because he didn't actually lose the fight. He hadn't even tried. The horde was fickle. Pain and blood were all good and somedays it wanted to make Nox pay for whatever transgressions the instincts inside wanted and Nox failed to deliver.
It had been a slow transition in means of what he tried, but it was weeks and not years of learning who he was that lead to his current attire. He'd owned the black leather pants for some time. They were good for clubbing and still being able to fight if necessary. And they had become part of his fighting gear before the rest.
During the day he still wore torn jeans and the ripped gray hoodie his mom had given him. It was his comfort zone. His place of happiness. The hoodie like the lotus that sat in the window cill in his room reminded him of things that he wanted. His tiny slivers of hope to get him through the day.
The past week or so Nox had taken to wearing a chain mail shirt. It was light weight provided extra protection and was considered sexy by the girls. The whole see through thing was good they said. While in the club Nox wore a black high necked long tasseled cloak, which was more like a shawl if you asked him with the black triangular black clothe dipping down his chest and the long tassels hanging down past his waist.
The cloak covered up the lotus flower Nox had painted on the front. It was a final practice piece for what he wanted to add to his skin. If he could dedicate himself to the Atharim with ink, he could do the same for the love of his life. Though the drawing was of more than the flower he tended to as if it were a religious artifact. The drawing was of all his loves in his life -- The lotus flower for Raffe, a blue and green aurora borealis in the background for his sister, a gust of musical notes floating from their staff his mother and Aria, with a final note of a paint brush with the same blue and green looking as if it had just painted the sky behind for Thalia. Now he just needed the courage to get it put on his skin.
The mask came with eye makeup that didn't so much as hide who he was but added that flair and theatrics. It had started out with thick eyeliner he liked wearing regularly and grew as he let the girls do his make up more. He started applying new designs himself. With the girls correcting what he couldn't manage to fix himself. Today he sported a metallic green and gold mask that matched the flaming hair and nails that had been part of his costume that night at the club. He could have opted in for the feather boa that matched but he didn't. That stayed at the club, he'd hate for it to get blood on it. Everything was about to get blood on it.
But first he had to meet Ori above the arena. He'd said he'd be there and he wasn't late. He was never late. But she was curiously missing -- not unlike her, he'd just have to find her.
And find her he did, with the least expected person in the world sharing a puff from whatever recreational drug Ori was using to take off her own personal edge. He snaked his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her cheek. He was pushing his limits. He knew that but for whatever it was worth he was going to be just as protective of her as he was any of the other girls in the club -- maybe even more so since Ori could get into a lot more trouble than the others. Not that she couldn't take care of herself. It was part of Nox's pride -- his reasons to get up. He whispered in her ear "I wasn't late."
He poked fun and teased. Probably the only person who didn't fear her wrath. He welcomed it.
Nox looked across at her accomplice and the fire in his eyes burnt hot. What the fuck was he doing here? Why here? "Speak of the devil."
Nox glared. "Jacob."
He laughed. He fucking laughed. "What happened to Uncle Jake?"
"Uncle Jake once promised a group of hunters he'd kill every last one of them if they ever could do what I could do so forgive me if I don't remember you with fondness."
He was looking for someplace else to live, but everything in his body said that the day he moved out was the day it was truly over between him and Raffe. And he still held on to a small sliver of hope. It was the tiny sliver that got him out of bed in the morning.
His days bled together a monotony of the same thing day in and day out out ad nauseum in order to put one foot in front of the other. Wake up, yoga, run, bring everyone including Raffe breakfast and coffee, check on the girls in the tunnels, domovoi, check on the girls on his way home and run the routes around Kallisti, work the club and new material, after his shift it was fights and fucking. Wasn't hard to pick out a girl on any given night and leave before she was even asleep. Some night they didn't even make it out of the dredges of the Almaz. And then home to sleep in his own bed with his door closed and wrapped in a cacoon of silencing air so Raffe didn't hear him cry himself to sleep.
He'd started working the stage more. A small skit every night something to push his boundaries and keep him from falling into the sesspool of his life. It was the one time he was happy -- dancing on stage. He'd trashed the work in progress in favor of things that made fun of the gods -- made fun of himself. He was working on something bigger but it wasn't quite ready yet. And he was saving it for Thal anyway, with who he texted everyday to make sure he was alright.
He hung out with Oriena more. Their darkness finding kinship. And tonight was one of those night. He even took most of the night off at the club just to hang with her. Juls insisted he wear at least part of his costume out. The gold and green flames having been a hit with the girls back stage. The make up only drew upon it. He left the feathered boa at home and opted for the outfit he'd wear typically to fight.
The past few weeks had seen a change in Nox. The happy-go-lucky exterior became much more flamboyant as he embraced the virality of the shows and the fights. People in the right circles recognized him and it made skulking the streets more difficult than he needed.
So he embraced the persona -- after 6pm he was someone else -- not the depressed kid living above a burlesque club, no, now he was this popular fighter with a flair for theatrics. He didn't win every fight, usually that was a choice Nox had made going in, not because he didn't actually lose the fight. He hadn't even tried. The horde was fickle. Pain and blood were all good and somedays it wanted to make Nox pay for whatever transgressions the instincts inside wanted and Nox failed to deliver.
It had been a slow transition in means of what he tried, but it was weeks and not years of learning who he was that lead to his current attire. He'd owned the black leather pants for some time. They were good for clubbing and still being able to fight if necessary. And they had become part of his fighting gear before the rest.
During the day he still wore torn jeans and the ripped gray hoodie his mom had given him. It was his comfort zone. His place of happiness. The hoodie like the lotus that sat in the window cill in his room reminded him of things that he wanted. His tiny slivers of hope to get him through the day.
The past week or so Nox had taken to wearing a chain mail shirt. It was light weight provided extra protection and was considered sexy by the girls. The whole see through thing was good they said. While in the club Nox wore a black high necked long tasseled cloak, which was more like a shawl if you asked him with the black triangular black clothe dipping down his chest and the long tassels hanging down past his waist.
The cloak covered up the lotus flower Nox had painted on the front. It was a final practice piece for what he wanted to add to his skin. If he could dedicate himself to the Atharim with ink, he could do the same for the love of his life. Though the drawing was of more than the flower he tended to as if it were a religious artifact. The drawing was of all his loves in his life -- The lotus flower for Raffe, a blue and green aurora borealis in the background for his sister, a gust of musical notes floating from their staff his mother and Aria, with a final note of a paint brush with the same blue and green looking as if it had just painted the sky behind for Thalia. Now he just needed the courage to get it put on his skin.
The mask came with eye makeup that didn't so much as hide who he was but added that flair and theatrics. It had started out with thick eyeliner he liked wearing regularly and grew as he let the girls do his make up more. He started applying new designs himself. With the girls correcting what he couldn't manage to fix himself. Today he sported a metallic green and gold mask that matched the flaming hair and nails that had been part of his costume that night at the club. He could have opted in for the feather boa that matched but he didn't. That stayed at the club, he'd hate for it to get blood on it. Everything was about to get blood on it.
But first he had to meet Ori above the arena. He'd said he'd be there and he wasn't late. He was never late. But she was curiously missing -- not unlike her, he'd just have to find her.
And find her he did, with the least expected person in the world sharing a puff from whatever recreational drug Ori was using to take off her own personal edge. He snaked his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her cheek. He was pushing his limits. He knew that but for whatever it was worth he was going to be just as protective of her as he was any of the other girls in the club -- maybe even more so since Ori could get into a lot more trouble than the others. Not that she couldn't take care of herself. It was part of Nox's pride -- his reasons to get up. He whispered in her ear "I wasn't late."
He poked fun and teased. Probably the only person who didn't fear her wrath. He welcomed it.
Nox looked across at her accomplice and the fire in his eyes burnt hot. What the fuck was he doing here? Why here? "Speak of the devil."
Nox glared. "Jacob."
He laughed. He fucking laughed. "What happened to Uncle Jake?"
"Uncle Jake once promised a group of hunters he'd kill every last one of them if they ever could do what I could do so forgive me if I don't remember you with fondness."
![[Image: nox_sig.gif]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/nox_sig.gif)