https://thefirstage.org/forums/ Mon, 19 Oct 2026 20:48:39 +0000 MyBB https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1988.html Sun, 11 Oct 2026 22:57:15 +0000 Dominik Taicheschski]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1988.html
Despite his slender stature and youthful appearance, Dominik is a capable and disciplined Dominion whose affable personality conceals a perceptive mind. Curious, playful, and occasionally mischievous, he enjoys testing boundaries and uncovering secrets, though his inability to leave certain mysteries alone has occasionally caused him considerable trouble.

Born and raised in St. Petersburg, Dominik was fascinated with mysteries, espionage, and the complexities of human behavior. An enthusiastic reader of spy novels and murder-mystery fiction, he spent much of his adolescence imagining a future filled with international intrigue, clandestine operations, and elaborate conspiracies. His natural curiosity extended to the people around him, whose motivations and secrets he found endlessly fascinating.

After studying international relations and security, Dominik enlisted in the CCD intelligence services with considerable enthusiasm, only to discover that entry-level counterintelligence involved far more background checks, personnel interviews, and tedious reports than the glamorous adventures he had imagined. Nevertheless, he proved adept at the work. His ability to recognize inconsistencies distinguished him from his peers that drew the attention of his superiors.

Dominik attracted significant attention when he uncovered a security breach that more senior investigators had failed to recognize. While suspicion had fallen upon an officer with apparent financial and professional vulnerabilities, Dominik identified evidence suggesting the investigation itself was being manipulated. His persistence ultimately exposed a respected official who had deliberately directed suspicion toward an innocent colleague while concealing his own involvement.

His professional integrity was subsequently tested when a separate investigation implicated a mentor who had supported his career. Despite their personal relationship, Dominik reported the security violation, demonstrating his willingness to place duty first. These accomplishments established his reputation as an intelligence analyst with great career potential, though his persistent curiosity and occasional disregard for personal boundaries sometimes complicated his relationships with colleagues.

Dominik’s ability to channel first manifested during a routine investigation involving an individual suspected of compromising sensitive information. During questioning, several inconsistencies in the suspect’s account were identified and the suspect was pressed for an explanation. Growing increasingly agitated, the man suddenly lunged toward a nearby security officer, attempting to seize his weapon.

Dominik reacted instinctively. Before the suspect could reach the weapon, an invisible force seized him, holding him motionless in midstride. The man struggled helplessly against the restraint while the astonished officers attempted to comprehend what had happened. Dominik was equally bewildered, though he experienced an inexplicable certainty that he was somehow responsible. When his concentration broke, the restraint vanished, and the suspect stumbled forward.

The incident prompted Custody officials to evaluate whether Dominik had channeled the Ascendancy’s power. Though initially unsettled, his apprehension quickly gave way to fascination. During his later training among the Dominions, he demonstrated a natural aptitude for precision, restraint, and containment weaves. His intelligence background complemented these abilities, allowing him to approach confrontations strategically and recognize opportunities to neutralize threats without unnecessary destruction.

This brought him to the attention of Commander Vellas.

Dominik’s selection for the Nine represented an extraordinary advancement for someone so young. Although he lacked the extensive military experience of some of his brethren, his intelligence background stood out as great potential to Michael. His aptitude for containment and defensive applications of the Ascendancy’s power further eventually him among the Nine.

Dominik takes his responsibilities seriously and maintains an almost absolute devotion to the Ascendancy. Despite his playful disposition outside of duty, he understands the importance of discipline and reliability during operations. His tendency to question decisions or test boundaries rarely compromises his professional obligations, though his inquisitive nature often tests Michael Vellas’s patience.

Although Michael and Dominik do not always enjoy an easy relationship, Michael recognizes the value of his abilities. Eventually, he entrusted Dominik with a highly classified responsibility: discreetly assessing the loyalty, vulnerabilities, and potential compromise of his fellow Dominions.

Dominik reports significant concerns directly to Michael, while his brethren remain unaware of the assignment. The responsibility is both an honor and a burden, requiring him to maintain professional objectivity toward those he considers friends. It also places him in the peculiar position of protecting the secrets of an organization while quietly investigating those entrusted with keeping them.

Personality and Interests

Dominik is friendly, curious, quick-witted, and remarkably observant. He enjoys people and possesses a natural talent for making conversation, often using humor and gentle teasing to put others at ease. His intelligence background has made it difficult to resist commenting upon his observations even in casual conversation.

His greatest weakness is an inability to leave questions unanswered. Dominik dislikes uncertainty and can become preoccupied with mysteries that others consider insignificant. He is the very personification of curiosity killing the cat. While this persistence serves him well professionally, it can make him intrusive in his personal relationships. He sometimes presses for explanations that others are unwilling to provide, struggling to recognize that not every secret is his to uncover.

Despite these tendencies, Dominik is neither habitually confrontational nor particularly arrogant. He enjoys a good joke, especially at his own expense, and takes considerably more pleasure in solving a mystery than demonstrating his superiority over it. His curiosity occasionally leads him into mischief, particularly when an opportunity presents itself to investigate something he has been explicitly told to leave alone.

Outside his duties, Dominik retains many of the interests he enjoyed before becoming a Dominion. An avid reader, he delights in solving fictional conspiracies before their protagonists. He is equally enthusiastic about video games and tabletop roleplaying, particularly games involving elaborate mysteries, morally complicated characters, and opportunities for creative problem-solving. He has also been known to enjoy carnivals, festivals, and the occasional recreational indulgence with friends.

Dominik is happiest among friends who share his enthusiasm for games, stories, and good-natured mischief. His relocation to Moscow following his recruitment disrupted much of that familiar social circle, leaving him to establish new friendships outside his demanding professional responsibilities.

Among the Dominions, he has developed a particularly close friendship with Julian Monserre. The two frequently enjoy one another’s company outside duty, occasionally serving as wingmen during their attempts to navigate Moscow’s hook-up scene. Their friendship provides Dominik with a welcome opportunity to relax among someone who values his company rather than his professional accomplishments.

Dominik also respects Karim al’Shaidis, whose competence and natural leadership have earned the confidence of Michael Vellas. Although he occasionally envies Karim’s privileged position within the Nine, his admiration is genuine.

In the few romantic relationships he has had, Dominik can be affectionate, attentive, and intensely devoted. Yet his discomfort with uncertainty sometimes manifests as possessiveness, particularly when he feels excluded from an important part of his partner’s life. He is remarkably skilled at understanding other people’s emotions but considerably less adept at recognizing when his own curiosity has become intrusive.

Physical Appearance

Standing at 6’2″, Dominik possesses a tall, slender build with narrow shoulders and long limbs that lend him a somewhat delicate appearance. His features are angular and finely defined, with prominent cheekbones, a narrow jaw, and a youthful, almost boyish quality to his face.

His dark brown hair is thick and slightly tousled, framing pale skin and expressive, dark eyes. Though his stature is considerable, he lacks the imposing physique of a traditional soldier, an impression reinforced by his relaxed posture and casual manner. His appearance can be deceptively unassuming, particularly among the more physically intimidating members of the Nine Dominions.]]>
Despite his slender stature and youthful appearance, Dominik is a capable and disciplined Dominion whose affable personality conceals a perceptive mind. Curious, playful, and occasionally mischievous, he enjoys testing boundaries and uncovering secrets, though his inability to leave certain mysteries alone has occasionally caused him considerable trouble.

Born and raised in St. Petersburg, Dominik was fascinated with mysteries, espionage, and the complexities of human behavior. An enthusiastic reader of spy novels and murder-mystery fiction, he spent much of his adolescence imagining a future filled with international intrigue, clandestine operations, and elaborate conspiracies. His natural curiosity extended to the people around him, whose motivations and secrets he found endlessly fascinating.

After studying international relations and security, Dominik enlisted in the CCD intelligence services with considerable enthusiasm, only to discover that entry-level counterintelligence involved far more background checks, personnel interviews, and tedious reports than the glamorous adventures he had imagined. Nevertheless, he proved adept at the work. His ability to recognize inconsistencies distinguished him from his peers that drew the attention of his superiors.

Dominik attracted significant attention when he uncovered a security breach that more senior investigators had failed to recognize. While suspicion had fallen upon an officer with apparent financial and professional vulnerabilities, Dominik identified evidence suggesting the investigation itself was being manipulated. His persistence ultimately exposed a respected official who had deliberately directed suspicion toward an innocent colleague while concealing his own involvement.

His professional integrity was subsequently tested when a separate investigation implicated a mentor who had supported his career. Despite their personal relationship, Dominik reported the security violation, demonstrating his willingness to place duty first. These accomplishments established his reputation as an intelligence analyst with great career potential, though his persistent curiosity and occasional disregard for personal boundaries sometimes complicated his relationships with colleagues.

Dominik’s ability to channel first manifested during a routine investigation involving an individual suspected of compromising sensitive information. During questioning, several inconsistencies in the suspect’s account were identified and the suspect was pressed for an explanation. Growing increasingly agitated, the man suddenly lunged toward a nearby security officer, attempting to seize his weapon.

Dominik reacted instinctively. Before the suspect could reach the weapon, an invisible force seized him, holding him motionless in midstride. The man struggled helplessly against the restraint while the astonished officers attempted to comprehend what had happened. Dominik was equally bewildered, though he experienced an inexplicable certainty that he was somehow responsible. When his concentration broke, the restraint vanished, and the suspect stumbled forward.

The incident prompted Custody officials to evaluate whether Dominik had channeled the Ascendancy’s power. Though initially unsettled, his apprehension quickly gave way to fascination. During his later training among the Dominions, he demonstrated a natural aptitude for precision, restraint, and containment weaves. His intelligence background complemented these abilities, allowing him to approach confrontations strategically and recognize opportunities to neutralize threats without unnecessary destruction.

This brought him to the attention of Commander Vellas.

Dominik’s selection for the Nine represented an extraordinary advancement for someone so young. Although he lacked the extensive military experience of some of his brethren, his intelligence background stood out as great potential to Michael. His aptitude for containment and defensive applications of the Ascendancy’s power further eventually him among the Nine.

Dominik takes his responsibilities seriously and maintains an almost absolute devotion to the Ascendancy. Despite his playful disposition outside of duty, he understands the importance of discipline and reliability during operations. His tendency to question decisions or test boundaries rarely compromises his professional obligations, though his inquisitive nature often tests Michael Vellas’s patience.

Although Michael and Dominik do not always enjoy an easy relationship, Michael recognizes the value of his abilities. Eventually, he entrusted Dominik with a highly classified responsibility: discreetly assessing the loyalty, vulnerabilities, and potential compromise of his fellow Dominions.

Dominik reports significant concerns directly to Michael, while his brethren remain unaware of the assignment. The responsibility is both an honor and a burden, requiring him to maintain professional objectivity toward those he considers friends. It also places him in the peculiar position of protecting the secrets of an organization while quietly investigating those entrusted with keeping them.

Personality and Interests

Dominik is friendly, curious, quick-witted, and remarkably observant. He enjoys people and possesses a natural talent for making conversation, often using humor and gentle teasing to put others at ease. His intelligence background has made it difficult to resist commenting upon his observations even in casual conversation.

His greatest weakness is an inability to leave questions unanswered. Dominik dislikes uncertainty and can become preoccupied with mysteries that others consider insignificant. He is the very personification of curiosity killing the cat. While this persistence serves him well professionally, it can make him intrusive in his personal relationships. He sometimes presses for explanations that others are unwilling to provide, struggling to recognize that not every secret is his to uncover.

Despite these tendencies, Dominik is neither habitually confrontational nor particularly arrogant. He enjoys a good joke, especially at his own expense, and takes considerably more pleasure in solving a mystery than demonstrating his superiority over it. His curiosity occasionally leads him into mischief, particularly when an opportunity presents itself to investigate something he has been explicitly told to leave alone.

Outside his duties, Dominik retains many of the interests he enjoyed before becoming a Dominion. An avid reader, he delights in solving fictional conspiracies before their protagonists. He is equally enthusiastic about video games and tabletop roleplaying, particularly games involving elaborate mysteries, morally complicated characters, and opportunities for creative problem-solving. He has also been known to enjoy carnivals, festivals, and the occasional recreational indulgence with friends.

Dominik is happiest among friends who share his enthusiasm for games, stories, and good-natured mischief. His relocation to Moscow following his recruitment disrupted much of that familiar social circle, leaving him to establish new friendships outside his demanding professional responsibilities.

Among the Dominions, he has developed a particularly close friendship with Julian Monserre. The two frequently enjoy one another’s company outside duty, occasionally serving as wingmen during their attempts to navigate Moscow’s hook-up scene. Their friendship provides Dominik with a welcome opportunity to relax among someone who values his company rather than his professional accomplishments.

Dominik also respects Karim al’Shaidis, whose competence and natural leadership have earned the confidence of Michael Vellas. Although he occasionally envies Karim’s privileged position within the Nine, his admiration is genuine.

In the few romantic relationships he has had, Dominik can be affectionate, attentive, and intensely devoted. Yet his discomfort with uncertainty sometimes manifests as possessiveness, particularly when he feels excluded from an important part of his partner’s life. He is remarkably skilled at understanding other people’s emotions but considerably less adept at recognizing when his own curiosity has become intrusive.

Physical Appearance

Standing at 6’2″, Dominik possesses a tall, slender build with narrow shoulders and long limbs that lend him a somewhat delicate appearance. His features are angular and finely defined, with prominent cheekbones, a narrow jaw, and a youthful, almost boyish quality to his face.

His dark brown hair is thick and slightly tousled, framing pale skin and expressive, dark eyes. Though his stature is considerable, he lacks the imposing physique of a traditional soldier, an impression reinforced by his relaxed posture and casual manner. His appearance can be deceptively unassuming, particularly among the more physically intimidating members of the Nine Dominions.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1987.html Thu, 17 Sep 2026 00:43:57 +0000 Grace]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1987.html
Grace couldn’t believe she was here. She had left the states about two weeks ago. She was grateful to Eve for getting her out. Things were a lot more stable here. As a result, Grace felt a lot more grounded. It wasn’t long after her arrival in Moscow that Eve had contacted her about a job she thought Grace would be good at. 

Eve was very clear what the job entailed and wouldn’t force her into it, but thought given her natural nature to be empathetic and her preference for being tactile. Grace was game and thought she would enjoy, so she was now a host at Kaizen - a club located right next to the Radiance Hotel. 

As a hostess - she was selected by the clients for a variety of reasons. She was flexible and easily adapted to her clients. She had several repeat customers and was beginning to make money. She was finding the work both enjoyable and successful. 

The weather was expected to be bad and she wondered how many were going to show up. So far she didn’t have a customer seeking her attention. She was ready regardless. Not having to worry so much about housing, she had spent her money getting more attire. She wore a beautiful red evening gown that accentuated her body. She was hoping someone would come in. Grace would love to be social and show someone a good time.]]>
Grace couldn’t believe she was here. She had left the states about two weeks ago. She was grateful to Eve for getting her out. Things were a lot more stable here. As a result, Grace felt a lot more grounded. It wasn’t long after her arrival in Moscow that Eve had contacted her about a job she thought Grace would be good at. 

Eve was very clear what the job entailed and wouldn’t force her into it, but thought given her natural nature to be empathetic and her preference for being tactile. Grace was game and thought she would enjoy, so she was now a host at Kaizen - a club located right next to the Radiance Hotel. 

As a hostess - she was selected by the clients for a variety of reasons. She was flexible and easily adapted to her clients. She had several repeat customers and was beginning to make money. She was finding the work both enjoyable and successful. 

The weather was expected to be bad and she wondered how many were going to show up. So far she didn’t have a customer seeking her attention. She was ready regardless. Not having to worry so much about housing, she had spent her money getting more attire. She wore a beautiful red evening gown that accentuated her body. She was hoping someone would come in. Grace would love to be social and show someone a good time.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1986.html Sat, 12 Sep 2026 23:04:28 +0000 Grace]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1986.html https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1985.html Wed, 09 Sep 2026 20:42:22 +0000 Olivier de Volthström]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1985.html
The hunt had been unsuccessful and that in itself was a disappointment. But the situation had Olivier on edge. He had seen nothing. That was odd. A storm was expected and Olivier had planned for it - but the fact the game had already disappeared meant something. Animals had an almost preternatural instinct for when to go to ground. Olivier had a feeling this one would be bad. And that meant it was time to go home. 

Olivier pulled out his bow case and began to pack it up. This wasn’t his performance bow. The one he used in competition. His competition bow as made of carbon fiber and fiberglass composites with aluminum risers and pulleys. It had stabilizers and the works - whatever his sponsors wanted on it. It had a sixty pound pull. His hunting bow was much more simple. Even if it had a 60 pound pull, it was nothing more than yew wood and a polyethylene string. But the bow felt right. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt right in his hands. 

He packed his equipment, pulled down the hood of his green coat, and got in the truck. He should be able to make it back to the Radiance in time. He pulled out and hit the road. The way was quiet and lonely. Few houses dotted the landscape. Some sort of castle was in the distance. He passed a solitary house and did a double take. The house was severely damaged, and Olivier was sure that it hadn’t been that way as he had passed it coming out here. He checked the time. He didn’t have much. He couldn’t afford to stop. He sighed. He also couldn’t in good conscience leave without checking. 

Olivier pulled his truck to the side. Something large had taken out a corner of the house. It still stood, but was definitely not habitable. someone could be hurt. He began to move to the building and paused, looking back at his truck. After a moment he returned and grabbed his longbow and quiver. He approached the building and entered through the large hole, making sure to touch as little as possible. Hearing movement, Olivier instinctively ducked, and the sound of wind and a crack against the wall gave him some relief. He had barely missed it. 

Olivier turned to see a young man, around 16 or 17 holding a Bo staff. The kid stepped back and his stance showed he had some training. Olivier saw the hesitation in the kid’s eyes, but there was something else - fear. The kid was afraid. ”Here to help kid - not going to hurt you.” The kid stood firm. 

Shit]]>
The hunt had been unsuccessful and that in itself was a disappointment. But the situation had Olivier on edge. He had seen nothing. That was odd. A storm was expected and Olivier had planned for it - but the fact the game had already disappeared meant something. Animals had an almost preternatural instinct for when to go to ground. Olivier had a feeling this one would be bad. And that meant it was time to go home. 

Olivier pulled out his bow case and began to pack it up. This wasn’t his performance bow. The one he used in competition. His competition bow as made of carbon fiber and fiberglass composites with aluminum risers and pulleys. It had stabilizers and the works - whatever his sponsors wanted on it. It had a sixty pound pull. His hunting bow was much more simple. Even if it had a 60 pound pull, it was nothing more than yew wood and a polyethylene string. But the bow felt right. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt right in his hands. 

He packed his equipment, pulled down the hood of his green coat, and got in the truck. He should be able to make it back to the Radiance in time. He pulled out and hit the road. The way was quiet and lonely. Few houses dotted the landscape. Some sort of castle was in the distance. He passed a solitary house and did a double take. The house was severely damaged, and Olivier was sure that it hadn’t been that way as he had passed it coming out here. He checked the time. He didn’t have much. He couldn’t afford to stop. He sighed. He also couldn’t in good conscience leave without checking. 

Olivier pulled his truck to the side. Something large had taken out a corner of the house. It still stood, but was definitely not habitable. someone could be hurt. He began to move to the building and paused, looking back at his truck. After a moment he returned and grabbed his longbow and quiver. He approached the building and entered through the large hole, making sure to touch as little as possible. Hearing movement, Olivier instinctively ducked, and the sound of wind and a crack against the wall gave him some relief. He had barely missed it. 

Olivier turned to see a young man, around 16 or 17 holding a Bo staff. The kid stepped back and his stance showed he had some training. Olivier saw the hesitation in the kid’s eyes, but there was something else - fear. The kid was afraid. ”Here to help kid - not going to hurt you.” The kid stood firm. 

Shit]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1984.html Wed, 09 Sep 2026 05:48:41 +0000 Olivier de Volthström]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1984.html https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1983.html Sun, 06 Sep 2026 15:48:43 +0000 Jay Carpenter]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1983.html
*maniacal plotting laughter ensues...

Post here, if you dare...]]>
*maniacal plotting laughter ensues...

Post here, if you dare...]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1982.html Sat, 05 Sep 2026 20:21:21 +0000 Jaxen Marveet]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1982.html
It's been fun, but uh, any objections if we wrap up Antarctica with a bit of hand waving? 

Last I think was going on, Sierra, Elyse, and Tenzin were going to put their heads together, figure out our exact location and send rescue. 

Meantime, Tristan and Thalia will stay alive long enough to get rescued.

I'm thinking boat to Argentina or somewhere then fly home for the big reunion.]]>
It's been fun, but uh, any objections if we wrap up Antarctica with a bit of hand waving? 

Last I think was going on, Sierra, Elyse, and Tenzin were going to put their heads together, figure out our exact location and send rescue. 

Meantime, Tristan and Thalia will stay alive long enough to get rescued.

I'm thinking boat to Argentina or somewhere then fly home for the big reunion.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1981.html Sun, 30 Aug 2026 18:12:25 +0000 Jay Carpenter]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1981.html
He doubted she noticed his withdrawal. Especially when distance was his middle name. At first, he’d hovered around Belizna, offering to help wherever he could, though his right hand remained locked in the ER's cast. When physical labor was out of the question, he leaned into the wizardry of his power. Tearing down scaffolding with his mind went much swifter than a team of laborers with power tools, and it gave him an excuse to sweat, strain, and stay miles away from Natalie’s hip.

He had no head for corporate architecture or the politics. A few stray moments of nostalgia flickered to life when she walked through financials with her lawyers, but they died quickly under the weight of his own uselessness. He had nothing to offer those conversations except a quiet, vacant nod and an inkling to give more.

The more physical tasks he volunteered to do, the wider the chasms grew. It worked decently until Adrian Kane showed up.

Jay had no idea he and Natalie shared a history, nor how deep the roots of it went. But once their business partnership was spelled out, the alignment of it all became blindingly obvious. Adrian didn't just fit into Natalie’s world; he elevated it. He seemed to draw her out in a way Jay couldn't. Even if he recognized Natalie's sarcasm and dry humor for what it was, at least it was better than the depressing pity he saw when she looked his way

Looking at them together, Jay was slow to accept. that Adrian was a better match for her in every conceivable way.]]>
He doubted she noticed his withdrawal. Especially when distance was his middle name. At first, he’d hovered around Belizna, offering to help wherever he could, though his right hand remained locked in the ER's cast. When physical labor was out of the question, he leaned into the wizardry of his power. Tearing down scaffolding with his mind went much swifter than a team of laborers with power tools, and it gave him an excuse to sweat, strain, and stay miles away from Natalie’s hip.

He had no head for corporate architecture or the politics. A few stray moments of nostalgia flickered to life when she walked through financials with her lawyers, but they died quickly under the weight of his own uselessness. He had nothing to offer those conversations except a quiet, vacant nod and an inkling to give more.

The more physical tasks he volunteered to do, the wider the chasms grew. It worked decently until Adrian Kane showed up.

Jay had no idea he and Natalie shared a history, nor how deep the roots of it went. But once their business partnership was spelled out, the alignment of it all became blindingly obvious. Adrian didn't just fit into Natalie’s world; he elevated it. He seemed to draw her out in a way Jay couldn't. Even if he recognized Natalie's sarcasm and dry humor for what it was, at least it was better than the depressing pity he saw when she looked his way

Looking at them together, Jay was slow to accept. that Adrian was a better match for her in every conceivable way.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1980.html Sun, 19 Jul 2026 02:51:29 +0000 Aine]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1980.html Moscow.  Her family back in Ireland still sent messages, imploring her to be careful, which she was...when she was paying attention.  She had bumped into so many people on campus, because she kept being distracted by this and that.  How would she cope out in the city?

Settling some pencils and sketchbooks into her bag, she started to look around her room for anything else she needed.  A pile from her classes in the corner of the living room caught her eye and she thought back to her lessons. The assortment of supplies, projects in progress, and books on technique weren't really helping.  No, this was a break.  Just a trip to clear her mind and let her breathe for just an hour or so.  Hopefully.

Zipping her light purple jacket up, she slipped on her boots, and walked out of her apartment.  Then realized she forgot her keys.  Aine flew back in and grabbed them, locking the door behind her as she left and shook her head as she let out a sigh with a little laugh behind it.  There was so much to do, she couldn't keep up with it all!  As she walked out of her apartment building and toward the university campus, she was glad to have so much to do.  Her Nan always said it was a blessing to be busy.

Aine let her mind wander as her feet did until she found a bench with a lovely view.  She sat down and set her bag of supplies next to her and began to doodle.  Her classes had been so intense, and moving from a small Irish town to Moscow had been such a change that she just needed a little time to do nothing.  And, since Aine was bad at doing nothing, she did a small bit of something she loved.]]> Moscow.  Her family back in Ireland still sent messages, imploring her to be careful, which she was...when she was paying attention.  She had bumped into so many people on campus, because she kept being distracted by this and that.  How would she cope out in the city?

Settling some pencils and sketchbooks into her bag, she started to look around her room for anything else she needed.  A pile from her classes in the corner of the living room caught her eye and she thought back to her lessons. The assortment of supplies, projects in progress, and books on technique weren't really helping.  No, this was a break.  Just a trip to clear her mind and let her breathe for just an hour or so.  Hopefully.

Zipping her light purple jacket up, she slipped on her boots, and walked out of her apartment.  Then realized she forgot her keys.  Aine flew back in and grabbed them, locking the door behind her as she left and shook her head as she let out a sigh with a little laugh behind it.  There was so much to do, she couldn't keep up with it all!  As she walked out of her apartment building and toward the university campus, she was glad to have so much to do.  Her Nan always said it was a blessing to be busy.

Aine let her mind wander as her feet did until she found a bench with a lovely view.  She sat down and set her bag of supplies next to her and began to doodle.  Her classes had been so intense, and moving from a small Irish town to Moscow had been such a change that she just needed a little time to do nothing.  And, since Aine was bad at doing nothing, she did a small bit of something she loved.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1979.html Fri, 17 Jul 2026 23:22:47 +0000 Marek]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1979.html
It was too narrow, too cold in winter and too hot in summer, its walls little more than thin sheets of aluminum riveted over a steel frame. Once it had housed nothing but spare rigging and electrical supplies, following the Carnival from city to city like an oversized toolbox on wheels. Somewhere along the years, Marek had simply taken it over. Nobody objected because it made sense. The tools already belonged there.

The trailer smelled of grease, dust, and solder. Coils of cable hung from dozens of hooks. Shelves bowed beneath neatly stacked bins filled with bolts, bearings, washers, and fittings collected from rides that no longer existed. Broken floodlights waited beside stripped generators. An old carousel horse's cracked fiberglass head leaned against the wall beside a milk crate overflowing with copper wire.

To anyone else it looked like junk, but Marek could have found any piece in the room with his eyes closed.

He stood at the ramshackle workbench, broad shoulders bent beneath the fluorescent strip light overhead, turning a socket wrench one final time before giving the repaired gearbox an experimental spin. The teeth meshed cleanly.

Good enough.

He wiped his hands across an already stained shop rag before tossing it onto the bench. His palms remained black around the creases no matter how often he scrubbed them. Grease had a habit of becoming part of a man after enough time.

The workshop occupied most of the trailer, but the far corner belonged to him. A couple of old chairs rescued from a roadside cleanup was squished beneath a battered flat-screen television mounted crookedly on the wall. The screen was older than most of the performers who wandered through the Carnival these days, but it still worked. So did the game console beneath it, its casing cracked and yellowed, both controllers repaired enough times that fresh plastic gave way to epoxy and tape.

Nearby a little fridge hummed beneath the window. Beside it rested an overflowing ashtray and a coffee mug filled with loose screws instead of coffee.

He rolled a joint with practiced fingers, struck a lighter, and leaned against the workbench while the first lungful settled into his chest. The tension behind his shoulders immediately loosened by degrees, but his thoughts wandered where they shouldn't. To a pendant of bone wrapped in copper and the line of her jaw disappearing in the cowl of his work coat.

He frowned and exhaled sharply through his nose, smoke following.]]>
It was too narrow, too cold in winter and too hot in summer, its walls little more than thin sheets of aluminum riveted over a steel frame. Once it had housed nothing but spare rigging and electrical supplies, following the Carnival from city to city like an oversized toolbox on wheels. Somewhere along the years, Marek had simply taken it over. Nobody objected because it made sense. The tools already belonged there.

The trailer smelled of grease, dust, and solder. Coils of cable hung from dozens of hooks. Shelves bowed beneath neatly stacked bins filled with bolts, bearings, washers, and fittings collected from rides that no longer existed. Broken floodlights waited beside stripped generators. An old carousel horse's cracked fiberglass head leaned against the wall beside a milk crate overflowing with copper wire.

To anyone else it looked like junk, but Marek could have found any piece in the room with his eyes closed.

He stood at the ramshackle workbench, broad shoulders bent beneath the fluorescent strip light overhead, turning a socket wrench one final time before giving the repaired gearbox an experimental spin. The teeth meshed cleanly.

Good enough.

He wiped his hands across an already stained shop rag before tossing it onto the bench. His palms remained black around the creases no matter how often he scrubbed them. Grease had a habit of becoming part of a man after enough time.

The workshop occupied most of the trailer, but the far corner belonged to him. A couple of old chairs rescued from a roadside cleanup was squished beneath a battered flat-screen television mounted crookedly on the wall. The screen was older than most of the performers who wandered through the Carnival these days, but it still worked. So did the game console beneath it, its casing cracked and yellowed, both controllers repaired enough times that fresh plastic gave way to epoxy and tape.

Nearby a little fridge hummed beneath the window. Beside it rested an overflowing ashtray and a coffee mug filled with loose screws instead of coffee.

He rolled a joint with practiced fingers, struck a lighter, and leaned against the workbench while the first lungful settled into his chest. The tension behind his shoulders immediately loosened by degrees, but his thoughts wandered where they shouldn't. To a pendant of bone wrapped in copper and the line of her jaw disappearing in the cowl of his work coat.

He frowned and exhaled sharply through his nose, smoke following.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1978.html Sun, 05 Jul 2026 23:22:43 +0000 Aine]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1978.html Aine O’Carra

Age 23

Origin Irish

Occupation Graduate student, Studio Arts, Moscow University

Psychological Description - Aine can be identified as neurodivergent easily.  She notices patterns quickly, she loves bright colors and patterns, and when she comes across an idea she likes, she latches on almost immediately.  She is friendly with a sometimes sarcastic sense of humor, and trying her best to make connections in a new place.  When her surroundings or even her own mind get too overwhelming, her friendly mask can slip, and she shuts down quickly.

Physical Description Aine is 5’10” tall with long dark red hair and brown eyes.

Powers & Supernatural powers Channeler, Dreamwalker

Strength 10

Potential Strength 27

Experience level  Adept

Reborn god Boann (Irish)

Biography

Aine lived most of her life in Ireland with her small family.  Her parents owned a successful business, a popular cafe in Carbury.  She lived a charmed life, able to explore as she wished with neighbors who loved her and extended family nearby.  She was an only child, but she found things to keep her occupied, like creating things.  Be it painting, drawing, or just arranging random objects in ways she found interesting, her mind found patterns where other children might not.  As she grew, her small group of friends fed on each other’s interests and made an eclectic circle.


When Aine was thirteen, she found herself walking toward River Boyne.  She’d been there before, but somehow, the girl felt the need to go that day.  It was a thought that circled her mind until it was entertained.  She was used to thoughts like those, so she went.  She walked to the river, wondering what it was that pulled her there.  Sitting close to the water, she tucked her legs under her and decided to just be still.  It was peaceful, after all…until it wasn’t.  After a few minutes of letting her mind wander, Aine felt something take hold of her.  It felt like a rush of water crashing into her, though she was dry and safe in the same spot.  It was terrifying and powerful, but it also felt like it was coming…from her somehow.  Floundering in the feeling, she reached out and grabbed something.  There was a thread that she felt was coming from the power she held.  


Aine did what she always did and experimented with this new ability, dipping it into the river, through the grass, just holding it…  She was too afraid to try much more and too afraid to move.  She was beginning to feel tired until her grandmother came upon her.  Her Nan sat next to her and saw that Aine was shaking and pale from her mysterious work.  She reassured Aine and guided her through the process of letting the power go.  Nan was there when she got sick afterwards as well, and when she recovered, she taught her how to use her ability in secret, explaining that her best friend had died from mishandling it long ago.


She had as many lessons with Nan as she could as she grew up.  The learning was slow going, and she couldn’t do anything without being around running water for a long time.  What finally broke her out of that was chasing the family dog, Bruno, who was running after a rabbit and right toward the road. Aine embraced the power as she was taught and grabbed a bit of air, and tugged her dog onto the ground, as if he had stumbled before he reached the road.  It wasn’t until she was walking him back home, giving him a stern lecture, that she realized what had happened.  


That night, she had the most vivid dream she ever had in her life.  She and another dog, but one she recognized as her own, were running for their lives.  Something loud and looming was just behind them.  It sounded like rushing water.  Splashes of it would taunt them as they ran.  She risked a look behind her, and a thick wall of water was rising up from a well, hunting her down.  Aine woke up soon after, her hair drenched, but not from sweat.  The legend of Boann, the goddess the River Boyne was named after, was well known, and that was its conclusion.  But why did she dream so vividly about it?  


Aine received many of her own stern lectures from Nan that she didn’t normally receive, but she knew they were for her safety, and those around her.  She and Nan both knew that her abilities were safe with knowledge and control, but most everyone else did not.  There were people who hunted people like them, and would hurt their loved ones as well.


When Aine finished her university years, she received an offer to study in Moscow as a graduate student.  Her heart soared, and her family celebrated with her.  This was an amazing opportunity.  After the initial happiness died down, she went to her Nan in private to ask if she had learned enough from her to leave on her own.  Her Nan explained that Aine had been difficult to teach, because she was stronger than Nan, but that she had learned enough not to hurt herself or anyone else.  She was an adult now and could use her own discernment.  She still made Aine promise to keep in good contact, though.


With that promise in mind, Aine accepted the offer to study Studio Arts at Moscow University.  Moscow was such a big change to the small town she was from, and the university was so much bigger than she was anticipating, but she took each change day by day.  She did what she always did, found patterns and followed them.]]> Aine O’Carra

Age 23

Origin Irish

Occupation Graduate student, Studio Arts, Moscow University

Psychological Description - Aine can be identified as neurodivergent easily.  She notices patterns quickly, she loves bright colors and patterns, and when she comes across an idea she likes, she latches on almost immediately.  She is friendly with a sometimes sarcastic sense of humor, and trying her best to make connections in a new place.  When her surroundings or even her own mind get too overwhelming, her friendly mask can slip, and she shuts down quickly.

Physical Description Aine is 5’10” tall with long dark red hair and brown eyes.

Powers & Supernatural powers Channeler, Dreamwalker

Strength 10

Potential Strength 27

Experience level  Adept

Reborn god Boann (Irish)

Biography

Aine lived most of her life in Ireland with her small family.  Her parents owned a successful business, a popular cafe in Carbury.  She lived a charmed life, able to explore as she wished with neighbors who loved her and extended family nearby.  She was an only child, but she found things to keep her occupied, like creating things.  Be it painting, drawing, or just arranging random objects in ways she found interesting, her mind found patterns where other children might not.  As she grew, her small group of friends fed on each other’s interests and made an eclectic circle.


When Aine was thirteen, she found herself walking toward River Boyne.  She’d been there before, but somehow, the girl felt the need to go that day.  It was a thought that circled her mind until it was entertained.  She was used to thoughts like those, so she went.  She walked to the river, wondering what it was that pulled her there.  Sitting close to the water, she tucked her legs under her and decided to just be still.  It was peaceful, after all…until it wasn’t.  After a few minutes of letting her mind wander, Aine felt something take hold of her.  It felt like a rush of water crashing into her, though she was dry and safe in the same spot.  It was terrifying and powerful, but it also felt like it was coming…from her somehow.  Floundering in the feeling, she reached out and grabbed something.  There was a thread that she felt was coming from the power she held.  


Aine did what she always did and experimented with this new ability, dipping it into the river, through the grass, just holding it…  She was too afraid to try much more and too afraid to move.  She was beginning to feel tired until her grandmother came upon her.  Her Nan sat next to her and saw that Aine was shaking and pale from her mysterious work.  She reassured Aine and guided her through the process of letting the power go.  Nan was there when she got sick afterwards as well, and when she recovered, she taught her how to use her ability in secret, explaining that her best friend had died from mishandling it long ago.


She had as many lessons with Nan as she could as she grew up.  The learning was slow going, and she couldn’t do anything without being around running water for a long time.  What finally broke her out of that was chasing the family dog, Bruno, who was running after a rabbit and right toward the road. Aine embraced the power as she was taught and grabbed a bit of air, and tugged her dog onto the ground, as if he had stumbled before he reached the road.  It wasn’t until she was walking him back home, giving him a stern lecture, that she realized what had happened.  


That night, she had the most vivid dream she ever had in her life.  She and another dog, but one she recognized as her own, were running for their lives.  Something loud and looming was just behind them.  It sounded like rushing water.  Splashes of it would taunt them as they ran.  She risked a look behind her, and a thick wall of water was rising up from a well, hunting her down.  Aine woke up soon after, her hair drenched, but not from sweat.  The legend of Boann, the goddess the River Boyne was named after, was well known, and that was its conclusion.  But why did she dream so vividly about it?  


Aine received many of her own stern lectures from Nan that she didn’t normally receive, but she knew they were for her safety, and those around her.  She and Nan both knew that her abilities were safe with knowledge and control, but most everyone else did not.  There were people who hunted people like them, and would hurt their loved ones as well.


When Aine finished her university years, she received an offer to study in Moscow as a graduate student.  Her heart soared, and her family celebrated with her.  This was an amazing opportunity.  After the initial happiness died down, she went to her Nan in private to ask if she had learned enough from her to leave on her own.  Her Nan explained that Aine had been difficult to teach, because she was stronger than Nan, but that she had learned enough not to hurt herself or anyone else.  She was an adult now and could use her own discernment.  She still made Aine promise to keep in good contact, though.


With that promise in mind, Aine accepted the offer to study Studio Arts at Moscow University.  Moscow was such a big change to the small town she was from, and the university was so much bigger than she was anticipating, but she took each change day by day.  She did what she always did, found patterns and followed them.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1977.html Sat, 23 May 2026 23:22:51 +0000 Anita]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1977.html
It took Anita a few moments after waking to remember where she was. The room was completely unfamiliar to her. The bed itself was comfortable and she was covered in a blanket. She sate up and then remembered. The snow storm - an insane amount of emergency calls - finding Penny in her collapsed house - Penny saving their lives - and finally, her complete collapse. 

Anita wiped the sleep from her eyes. She had no idea how long she had slept, but it had to have been a bit. She felt rested for the first time in days, and emotionally was feeling alright too. 

Penny. That poor girl was an orphan now. Penny herself had confirmed it. Anita was struck with a moment of urgency. She had to call Cor. Not only to talk about Penny, but also to talk about the kids that Hayden had called her about. Anita took a deep breath and called Cor. 

Cor answered almost immediately. ”Anita, how are you feeling?” he asked. 

She smiled a bit. ”A lot better. Feeling rested and not so stressed.”

”Ivan is onsite. I’m not letting you come back to duty until he says.”

Her smile widened. ”I know - that’s not why I’m calling. It’s about the girl. The patient we brought her,” Anita’s smile faded as she got serious. Cor didn’t interrupt. ”She’s an orphan now. Confirmed by her. Says she has a dad, but doesn’t know him. Will take awhile to find that information. She’ll at the very least need to go somewhere. And Cor - I just can’t stand the idea of her going to a state orphanage.”

The line was silent for a bit as Cor put together what her knew or thought he knew. ”You must have something in mind to ask me this.”

Anita nodded even though Cor couldn’t see her. ”Guy I know has a place for people like her. An orphanage of sorts, but more for everyone - called Second Chances. I really think it would be the best fit for her.”

Cor sighed. ”My power is very limited in such things…SOP’s* you know.” Anita opened her mouth to interrupt, but he continued before she could. ”But these are unprecedented times. I’m doubting, unfortunately that she’s alone in this. There is going to be a back log and we can’t wait for the state to get its shit together. She’ll need a place to go, we can’t keep her.” Anita smiled. That was the official story. But she read the subtext. He’d make it happen. ”I’ll see what I can do.”

”Thanks, Cor. There’s something else too. In a similar category. Friend has two girls - twins. He wanted to get in touch with CPS about them. Orphans as well. Pretty heavy trauma case. Again - second chances would be best for them. I can give you the information to contact him. Can you see if you can do anything.”

She heard him chuckle. ”Never thought I’d have this conversation with you. Yeah - send me his information and I’ll touch base. See what I can do. Girl you’re with - you got a name.”

”Penny - I mean Penelope. Penelope Zemlov. The contact for the other kids is Hayden Sebastian.” 

”Okay - I’ll get things moving and touch base with Hayden. Now check in with Ivan - want to make sure you’re okay.”

She chuckled. ”Will do, sir. Thanks Cor, you’re the best.”

They bid their goodbyes and Anita hung up. Cor would come through. He always had before. Hopefully soon she’d get confirmation, and she could let Penny know what was going on. Anita hoped she was okay. She needed a shower and then she’d find Ivan and get cleared for duty again. Then it was time to take care of things here.]]>
It took Anita a few moments after waking to remember where she was. The room was completely unfamiliar to her. The bed itself was comfortable and she was covered in a blanket. She sate up and then remembered. The snow storm - an insane amount of emergency calls - finding Penny in her collapsed house - Penny saving their lives - and finally, her complete collapse. 

Anita wiped the sleep from her eyes. She had no idea how long she had slept, but it had to have been a bit. She felt rested for the first time in days, and emotionally was feeling alright too. 

Penny. That poor girl was an orphan now. Penny herself had confirmed it. Anita was struck with a moment of urgency. She had to call Cor. Not only to talk about Penny, but also to talk about the kids that Hayden had called her about. Anita took a deep breath and called Cor. 

Cor answered almost immediately. ”Anita, how are you feeling?” he asked. 

She smiled a bit. ”A lot better. Feeling rested and not so stressed.”

”Ivan is onsite. I’m not letting you come back to duty until he says.”

Her smile widened. ”I know - that’s not why I’m calling. It’s about the girl. The patient we brought her,” Anita’s smile faded as she got serious. Cor didn’t interrupt. ”She’s an orphan now. Confirmed by her. Says she has a dad, but doesn’t know him. Will take awhile to find that information. She’ll at the very least need to go somewhere. And Cor - I just can’t stand the idea of her going to a state orphanage.”

The line was silent for a bit as Cor put together what her knew or thought he knew. ”You must have something in mind to ask me this.”

Anita nodded even though Cor couldn’t see her. ”Guy I know has a place for people like her. An orphanage of sorts, but more for everyone - called Second Chances. I really think it would be the best fit for her.”

Cor sighed. ”My power is very limited in such things…SOP’s* you know.” Anita opened her mouth to interrupt, but he continued before she could. ”But these are unprecedented times. I’m doubting, unfortunately that she’s alone in this. There is going to be a back log and we can’t wait for the state to get its shit together. She’ll need a place to go, we can’t keep her.” Anita smiled. That was the official story. But she read the subtext. He’d make it happen. ”I’ll see what I can do.”

”Thanks, Cor. There’s something else too. In a similar category. Friend has two girls - twins. He wanted to get in touch with CPS about them. Orphans as well. Pretty heavy trauma case. Again - second chances would be best for them. I can give you the information to contact him. Can you see if you can do anything.”

She heard him chuckle. ”Never thought I’d have this conversation with you. Yeah - send me his information and I’ll touch base. See what I can do. Girl you’re with - you got a name.”

”Penny - I mean Penelope. Penelope Zemlov. The contact for the other kids is Hayden Sebastian.” 

”Okay - I’ll get things moving and touch base with Hayden. Now check in with Ivan - want to make sure you’re okay.”

She chuckled. ”Will do, sir. Thanks Cor, you’re the best.”

They bid their goodbyes and Anita hung up. Cor would come through. He always had before. Hopefully soon she’d get confirmation, and she could let Penny know what was going on. Anita hoped she was okay. She needed a shower and then she’d find Ivan and get cleared for duty again. Then it was time to take care of things here.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1976.html Thu, 16 Apr 2026 02:04:37 +0000 Alistair Bishop]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1976.html
In Columbus, quiet meant something had gone wrong. Quiet was the moment before the door came in, or the bar went dark, or the ref stopped counting. Quiet was something you filled fast, before it filled you.

He'd been given the membership card three weeks ago. Nadya had slid it across the table like it was nothing, "Mr. Petrovich says you work too hard for what you eat," and gone back to her wine. He hadn't used it until now.

The attendant at the front desk said nothing about the bruising along his jaw. Moscow had trained its people not to comment on that kind of thing. She checked his membership card, confirmed his appointment, and pointed him toward the changing rooms.

The changing room smelled like cedar and eucalyptus. His clothes came off in pieces, each article a record of the last seventy-two hours. He peeled back his shirt and dropped it on the bench without looking at it. The mirror on the wall was unavoidable. He gave himself a few seconds the way he always did before a fight, a quick inventory, nothing sentimental. The bruise along his left side had deepened to dark plum, spreading from under his arm toward his hip where the chain had caught him. His knuckles were scabbed, the right hand worse than the left. His jaw carried a yellowish shadow just below the cheekbone, old enough now to be fading. The rest of him looked the way it always looked: the kind of body that had been through too much to carry any softness. His shoulders and chest were thick from years of grappling, his arms ropy with the kind of muscle that came from use rather than a gym mirror. His stomach was flat and hard, every line of him pulled tight, skin sitting close to the muscle beneath it. The bruises and the scars sat on top of all of it like decoration, like proof. It was armor, was what it was. The kind you couldn't take off. He looked like a man nothing could touch. He looked, if you didn't know any better, like a man who had never been afraid of anything in his life.

Still alive. That has to count for something.

The massage room was private, warm, low-lit. Amber. The kind of silence that cost money. He stretched out face-down on the table, naked save for the towel draped low across his hips, forehead in the cradle, arms loose, jaw unclenched. The leather was warm beneath his chest and stomach. He could feel his own heartbeat against it.

She knocked before entering. He noted that. She gave her name and he gave his and that was the end of conversation.

She was young, dark-haired, with the kind of quiet that wasn't shyness. She moved through the room like she owned the square footage, unhurried, setting her oil on the side table and folding the towel down to the small of his back before settling at the foot of the table. Her eyes made one unhurried pass over him before she began. Professional. But not indifferent.]]>
In Columbus, quiet meant something had gone wrong. Quiet was the moment before the door came in, or the bar went dark, or the ref stopped counting. Quiet was something you filled fast, before it filled you.

He'd been given the membership card three weeks ago. Nadya had slid it across the table like it was nothing, "Mr. Petrovich says you work too hard for what you eat," and gone back to her wine. He hadn't used it until now.

The attendant at the front desk said nothing about the bruising along his jaw. Moscow had trained its people not to comment on that kind of thing. She checked his membership card, confirmed his appointment, and pointed him toward the changing rooms.

The changing room smelled like cedar and eucalyptus. His clothes came off in pieces, each article a record of the last seventy-two hours. He peeled back his shirt and dropped it on the bench without looking at it. The mirror on the wall was unavoidable. He gave himself a few seconds the way he always did before a fight, a quick inventory, nothing sentimental. The bruise along his left side had deepened to dark plum, spreading from under his arm toward his hip where the chain had caught him. His knuckles were scabbed, the right hand worse than the left. His jaw carried a yellowish shadow just below the cheekbone, old enough now to be fading. The rest of him looked the way it always looked: the kind of body that had been through too much to carry any softness. His shoulders and chest were thick from years of grappling, his arms ropy with the kind of muscle that came from use rather than a gym mirror. His stomach was flat and hard, every line of him pulled tight, skin sitting close to the muscle beneath it. The bruises and the scars sat on top of all of it like decoration, like proof. It was armor, was what it was. The kind you couldn't take off. He looked like a man nothing could touch. He looked, if you didn't know any better, like a man who had never been afraid of anything in his life.

Still alive. That has to count for something.

The massage room was private, warm, low-lit. Amber. The kind of silence that cost money. He stretched out face-down on the table, naked save for the towel draped low across his hips, forehead in the cradle, arms loose, jaw unclenched. The leather was warm beneath his chest and stomach. He could feel his own heartbeat against it.

She knocked before entering. He noted that. She gave her name and he gave his and that was the end of conversation.

She was young, dark-haired, with the kind of quiet that wasn't shyness. She moved through the room like she owned the square footage, unhurried, setting her oil on the side table and folding the towel down to the small of his back before settling at the foot of the table. Her eyes made one unhurried pass over him before she began. Professional. But not indifferent.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1975.html Fri, 03 Apr 2026 15:31:24 +0000 Giovanni]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1975.html
Giovanni still didn’t know why she had asked him to come with her after the ordeal with Zholdin. All he knew was when Grym beckoned, he had followed. Outside of the gopnik club, the voices inside had become completely silent again. The specters inside that fed on chaos were gone, replaced only by calm. It was an odd feeling - a feeling Giovanni hadn’t felt since he had left the Atharim. It was a feeling Giovanni was still trying to figure out. 

Giovanni was sure Grym didn’t like him. He was equally sure she wanted to kill him, but as of yet, hadn’t done so. He didn’t know why. He hadn’t asked. In fact, he had barely spoken since they had left the club, answering only when spoken to, and even then, he spoke will generally monosyllabic answers. She still knew him as “Dante.” He hadn’t given her his real name yet or the name he had buried when he had fled. He hadn’t asked her anything, but when they had gotten some supplies, he had paid his fair share for them. He hadn’t even asked about the dreykan head. He knew she had wanted it, but didn’t know if she had swiped it from under Zholdin’s nose or not. 

The silence wasn’t morose. He was quiet, but it was content. That was something else he hadn’t felt for a long time. The thought that existing was enough. It was all odd, and that is what led to the silence. He wasn’t being speculative and trying to figure out if he liked this or not. He had made no contact with Omar - who was probably freaking out by now, but Giovanni didn’t worry about that. He almost had no desire to return to Egypt, or go anywhere else. 

His eyes looked around and landed on the car. Giovanni knew little about cars, but he knew enough to know that this one wasn’t a new one. They didn’t make cars like that anymore, but despite the age it was very well maintained. Grym took care of the vehicle. It was probably very important to her. So when Giovanni decided to speak it was to be about the car - something that his host found interesting, even if he had no idea what to say about it.

Giovanni remained seated, his eyes on the car. ”Interesting car - you don’t see them like that anymore.” his voice was measured and calm and he spoke as if this was completely natural, despite it being the first full sentence he had spoken since they had left the club. ”How long have you had it?”]]>
Giovanni still didn’t know why she had asked him to come with her after the ordeal with Zholdin. All he knew was when Grym beckoned, he had followed. Outside of the gopnik club, the voices inside had become completely silent again. The specters inside that fed on chaos were gone, replaced only by calm. It was an odd feeling - a feeling Giovanni hadn’t felt since he had left the Atharim. It was a feeling Giovanni was still trying to figure out. 

Giovanni was sure Grym didn’t like him. He was equally sure she wanted to kill him, but as of yet, hadn’t done so. He didn’t know why. He hadn’t asked. In fact, he had barely spoken since they had left the club, answering only when spoken to, and even then, he spoke will generally monosyllabic answers. She still knew him as “Dante.” He hadn’t given her his real name yet or the name he had buried when he had fled. He hadn’t asked her anything, but when they had gotten some supplies, he had paid his fair share for them. He hadn’t even asked about the dreykan head. He knew she had wanted it, but didn’t know if she had swiped it from under Zholdin’s nose or not. 

The silence wasn’t morose. He was quiet, but it was content. That was something else he hadn’t felt for a long time. The thought that existing was enough. It was all odd, and that is what led to the silence. He wasn’t being speculative and trying to figure out if he liked this or not. He had made no contact with Omar - who was probably freaking out by now, but Giovanni didn’t worry about that. He almost had no desire to return to Egypt, or go anywhere else. 

His eyes looked around and landed on the car. Giovanni knew little about cars, but he knew enough to know that this one wasn’t a new one. They didn’t make cars like that anymore, but despite the age it was very well maintained. Grym took care of the vehicle. It was probably very important to her. So when Giovanni decided to speak it was to be about the car - something that his host found interesting, even if he had no idea what to say about it.

Giovanni remained seated, his eyes on the car. ”Interesting car - you don’t see them like that anymore.” his voice was measured and calm and he spoke as if this was completely natural, despite it being the first full sentence he had spoken since they had left the club. ”How long have you had it?”]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1974.html Tue, 10 Mar 2026 15:12:25 +0000 Enrique]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1974.html
But with the threats being diminished, that meant the rumors of weirdness had more credibility. There were a couple of rumors that grabbed Ricky’s attention. A old woman needing help and who went with her didn’t come back. Another woman who seemed possessed. So it could be multiple things. A harpy was most likely for the first. The second could be a wefuke or a ijiraq. Still both were worth investigating further. He hoped for the harpy. He could kill that without killing a person too.  

So Ricky packed up his pistols and loaded a backpack with extra ammo, rations, and a change of clothing. Carrying a damn near corpse like Nox on his back had made the change of clothing a standard in his go bag now. He also carried several fully charged power packs. He had told Hayden he had been an Eagle Scout. That hadn’t been a lie. He was always ready. On top of that, he was glad he had made friends with Nox. The mapping of the tunnels came in handy. 

Ricky had no magic so he had to use mundane things to see in the darkness he had a light clipped to his coat that allowed him to keep his hands free in case he had to pull out his fire arms. A noise in a side tunnel caught his attention. It could be anything - a person, a creature, a cat, or any thing else. But he was searching for a monster. He moved down the side tunnel to see what was there. Perhaps his quarry was in this direction.]]>
But with the threats being diminished, that meant the rumors of weirdness had more credibility. There were a couple of rumors that grabbed Ricky’s attention. A old woman needing help and who went with her didn’t come back. Another woman who seemed possessed. So it could be multiple things. A harpy was most likely for the first. The second could be a wefuke or a ijiraq. Still both were worth investigating further. He hoped for the harpy. He could kill that without killing a person too.  

So Ricky packed up his pistols and loaded a backpack with extra ammo, rations, and a change of clothing. Carrying a damn near corpse like Nox on his back had made the change of clothing a standard in his go bag now. He also carried several fully charged power packs. He had told Hayden he had been an Eagle Scout. That hadn’t been a lie. He was always ready. On top of that, he was glad he had made friends with Nox. The mapping of the tunnels came in handy. 

Ricky had no magic so he had to use mundane things to see in the darkness he had a light clipped to his coat that allowed him to keep his hands free in case he had to pull out his fire arms. A noise in a side tunnel caught his attention. It could be anything - a person, a creature, a cat, or any thing else. But he was searching for a monster. He moved down the side tunnel to see what was there. Perhaps his quarry was in this direction.]]>