<![CDATA[The First Age - Commerce Row]]>

<![CDATA[The First Age - Commerce Row]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/ Fri, 08 May 2026 13:54:03 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[New Year, New Journal (Izmailovsky Market)]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1931.html Thu, 11 Dec 2025 17:39:06 +0000 Seren]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1931.html brighter, in the way want always sharpened in the dark. People desired more fiercely when the world was frozen: warmth, purpose, distraction, comfort. Everywhere she walked, the golden motes of other people’s longing drifted and pulsed an overlay in the air — sometimes faint as mist, sometimes bright as fireflies.

She’d lived here nearly a year now. Long enough to memorise the metro lines and the late-night cafés where mystics and conspiracy theorists gathered. Long enough to bury herself in libraries, in folklore archives, in scattered academic scraps about magic. Long enough to accept that the announcement revealing channelers to the world didn’t give her answers about herself – only the terrifying possibility that the world was wider, stranger, and closer to her than she ever imagined.

She’d returned to Wales for Christmas, hoping the distance would settle something in her. Her mother hugged her tightly, fed her too much, and did not ask why her daughter spent her days hunting legends like she was chasing ghosts. But even home felt small now. Safe, yes – but small.

And she was done feeling small.

So she’d come back to Moscow for the new year, carrying the same hunger she’d had when she first arrived. Magic could be seen now, and that meant her own seeing wasn’t madness. If nothing else it at least seemed proof there was a world behind the world – one she could finally step into, if she could only find the right door.

At the outdoor market, Seren walked slowly through the rows of brightly covered stalls, letting the crowd move around her. She wandered past steaming food stands, knitted hats, carved toys, incense vendors. Snow drifted sideways like sifted flour, heavy and quiet. It hissed on the stove tops and clung to scarves and eyelashes. Around it all the motes of golden desire danced for her just as thickly in the cold air – bright near lovers, erratic near the anxious, dull around the bored and tired. A man near the entrance burned with the sharp, familiar want for money – quick, easy, now. A woman lingered over a table of scarves, her want soft and steady: warmth, comfort, beauty she believed she didn’t deserve. A teenager wanted to be anywhere but here.

Seren kept her awareness wide but dull. Focusing made everything clearer. Sharper. Harder to ignore. She was only here for something simple. Something grounding. Something she could control.

A new journal.

The stall she stopped at was small and temporary – handmade notebooks laid out in neat rows. Leather, linen, and intricate wood-burned covers. The vendor arranged them with careful optimism; the motes around him flickered with the quiet, steady want of someone hoping for a good sale but expecting nothing. Only a small, sparse drift of gold shifted towards her, barely noticeable unless she looked right at it: a want to be noticed. To be seen as something more than another vendor in another winter.

Seren didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she reached toward a deep-blue journal with a brass clasp. When she opened it, the paper was thick, soft under her thumb. Enough weight to anchor thoughts that otherwise scattered. Last year I filled half a journal with theories, she thought. Half a journal with dead ends. Maybe this one will be different.

She flipped through the blank sheets, and a snowflake melted on the first page.

The market buzzed around her. A child’s want flared bright and brief – a desire for a sugared bun from a nearby stall. A moment later, an adult’s sharper want collided with it: the want for silence, for cooperation, for a moment of peace. There were other, harmless longings – someone craving mulled wine, someone bargaining too eagerly, someone desperate to get out of the cold. It all drifted like soft sparks in her periphery.

But one presence broke the pattern.

A sudden, bright flare of golden sparks. Sharper than desire. Cleaner than lust. Focused, searching, intentional. Someone nearby wasn’t craving warmth or food or company. Someone was seeking.

The same flavour of want she carried like a heartbeat.

Her body reacted before her mind did, a stillness settling through her spine. She kept her shoulders relaxed, gaze on the journal, senses open just enough to see that flare again when it pulsed – close, close enough that if she turned, she might see the person’s outline haloed in motes. So she did; just slightly, enough to see where the shapes were leading, leaving the glimmer unfocused – safe. The crowd shifted.

Someone stood behind her. Or moved past. Or lingered.

The vendor cleared his throat gently. “You… like that one?” he asked, accent thick. A soft drift of longing unfurled from him – not for her, not romantically, but for connection. For conversation. For a sale. For something small but meaningful in the cold.

She smiled faintly but didn’t look directly at him. “It feels right.”

The answer fed his want harmlessly. A safe interaction. Easy. She set the journal on the counter and reached for her purse.

– and that searching pulse flared again, filling her periphery with precision. Close enough that she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t seen it. Her hand stilled on her bag. Someone around her wanted what she wanted. Or wanted her because she was searching. Or wanted something she didn’t yet understand.

Any of those possibilities could be dangerous. Or the start of exactly what she came back to Moscow to find. Seren closed her hand around the journal. She let the snow fall, let her breath fog, let the moment stretch like a held note.

She didn’t turn. She waited.]]> brighter, in the way want always sharpened in the dark. People desired more fiercely when the world was frozen: warmth, purpose, distraction, comfort. Everywhere she walked, the golden motes of other people’s longing drifted and pulsed an overlay in the air — sometimes faint as mist, sometimes bright as fireflies.

She’d lived here nearly a year now. Long enough to memorise the metro lines and the late-night cafés where mystics and conspiracy theorists gathered. Long enough to bury herself in libraries, in folklore archives, in scattered academic scraps about magic. Long enough to accept that the announcement revealing channelers to the world didn’t give her answers about herself – only the terrifying possibility that the world was wider, stranger, and closer to her than she ever imagined.

She’d returned to Wales for Christmas, hoping the distance would settle something in her. Her mother hugged her tightly, fed her too much, and did not ask why her daughter spent her days hunting legends like she was chasing ghosts. But even home felt small now. Safe, yes – but small.

And she was done feeling small.

So she’d come back to Moscow for the new year, carrying the same hunger she’d had when she first arrived. Magic could be seen now, and that meant her own seeing wasn’t madness. If nothing else it at least seemed proof there was a world behind the world – one she could finally step into, if she could only find the right door.

At the outdoor market, Seren walked slowly through the rows of brightly covered stalls, letting the crowd move around her. She wandered past steaming food stands, knitted hats, carved toys, incense vendors. Snow drifted sideways like sifted flour, heavy and quiet. It hissed on the stove tops and clung to scarves and eyelashes. Around it all the motes of golden desire danced for her just as thickly in the cold air – bright near lovers, erratic near the anxious, dull around the bored and tired. A man near the entrance burned with the sharp, familiar want for money – quick, easy, now. A woman lingered over a table of scarves, her want soft and steady: warmth, comfort, beauty she believed she didn’t deserve. A teenager wanted to be anywhere but here.

Seren kept her awareness wide but dull. Focusing made everything clearer. Sharper. Harder to ignore. She was only here for something simple. Something grounding. Something she could control.

A new journal.

The stall she stopped at was small and temporary – handmade notebooks laid out in neat rows. Leather, linen, and intricate wood-burned covers. The vendor arranged them with careful optimism; the motes around him flickered with the quiet, steady want of someone hoping for a good sale but expecting nothing. Only a small, sparse drift of gold shifted towards her, barely noticeable unless she looked right at it: a want to be noticed. To be seen as something more than another vendor in another winter.

Seren didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she reached toward a deep-blue journal with a brass clasp. When she opened it, the paper was thick, soft under her thumb. Enough weight to anchor thoughts that otherwise scattered. Last year I filled half a journal with theories, she thought. Half a journal with dead ends. Maybe this one will be different.

She flipped through the blank sheets, and a snowflake melted on the first page.

The market buzzed around her. A child’s want flared bright and brief – a desire for a sugared bun from a nearby stall. A moment later, an adult’s sharper want collided with it: the want for silence, for cooperation, for a moment of peace. There were other, harmless longings – someone craving mulled wine, someone bargaining too eagerly, someone desperate to get out of the cold. It all drifted like soft sparks in her periphery.

But one presence broke the pattern.

A sudden, bright flare of golden sparks. Sharper than desire. Cleaner than lust. Focused, searching, intentional. Someone nearby wasn’t craving warmth or food or company. Someone was seeking.

The same flavour of want she carried like a heartbeat.

Her body reacted before her mind did, a stillness settling through her spine. She kept her shoulders relaxed, gaze on the journal, senses open just enough to see that flare again when it pulsed – close, close enough that if she turned, she might see the person’s outline haloed in motes. So she did; just slightly, enough to see where the shapes were leading, leaving the glimmer unfocused – safe. The crowd shifted.

Someone stood behind her. Or moved past. Or lingered.

The vendor cleared his throat gently. “You… like that one?” he asked, accent thick. A soft drift of longing unfurled from him – not for her, not romantically, but for connection. For conversation. For a sale. For something small but meaningful in the cold.

She smiled faintly but didn’t look directly at him. “It feels right.”

The answer fed his want harmlessly. A safe interaction. Easy. She set the journal on the counter and reached for her purse.

– and that searching pulse flared again, filling her periphery with precision. Close enough that she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t seen it. Her hand stilled on her bag. Someone around her wanted what she wanted. Or wanted her because she was searching. Or wanted something she didn’t yet understand.

Any of those possibilities could be dangerous. Or the start of exactly what she came back to Moscow to find. Seren closed her hand around the journal. She let the snow fall, let her breath fog, let the moment stretch like a held note.

She didn’t turn. She waited.]]> <![CDATA[Looking [GUM]]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1841.html Sun, 18 May 2025 19:59:52 +0000 Anna]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1841.html
Apparently Anna had missed Cade showing up at the house though. Marta had told Elyse who had told Anna that he had met with Nox, and had been once again introduced to the world of monsters, and it seemed like he was at least believing now. Anna shuddered at the thought of the vampire (dreykan Elyse had called it). It was a bad memory from an otherwise pleasant day. She could still see the dead woman’s lifeless gaze. She pushed it aside, not wanting to think about it. In response, Anna reached for her power, still surprised that it came to her so readily now, the warmth of it within her, giving her comfort and pushing away the terrible memory.

Today Anna sat on a bench though, watching people pass by. A pair of lovers walked by holding hands, several sets of mother’s pulling children around as they finished their Christmas shopping. Other people were solitary like her, but walking around with a sense of purpose. Anna didn’t really have a purpose for being here. She had thought when she had left Nox’s place that she might do some shopping, but at this point she really hadn’t started. Perhaps she would later. For now, people watching seemed to be suiting her just fine.]]>
Apparently Anna had missed Cade showing up at the house though. Marta had told Elyse who had told Anna that he had met with Nox, and had been once again introduced to the world of monsters, and it seemed like he was at least believing now. Anna shuddered at the thought of the vampire (dreykan Elyse had called it). It was a bad memory from an otherwise pleasant day. She could still see the dead woman’s lifeless gaze. She pushed it aside, not wanting to think about it. In response, Anna reached for her power, still surprised that it came to her so readily now, the warmth of it within her, giving her comfort and pushing away the terrible memory.

Today Anna sat on a bench though, watching people pass by. A pair of lovers walked by holding hands, several sets of mother’s pulling children around as they finished their Christmas shopping. Other people were solitary like her, but walking around with a sense of purpose. Anna didn’t really have a purpose for being here. She had thought when she had left Nox’s place that she might do some shopping, but at this point she really hadn’t started. Perhaps she would later. For now, people watching seemed to be suiting her just fine.]]> <![CDATA[Coffee After An Appointment]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1776.html Mon, 03 Mar 2025 22:42:14 +0000 Enrique]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1776.html
Marta had changed quickly in the last week. Online school had been a good choice for her and going to Kallisti had been helpful as well. That still surprised Enrique, but Marta was growing. The other kids there had accepted her without question. Then she had gone to a group session with them and Elyse's friend Hayden and her confidence had soared. She still struggled. The previous day she had a minor episode, but given that it was minor and her issues were becoming less frequent, she was healing a bit more.

Marta had wanted to go to the coffee shop she had seen Elyse and her friends in the other day, and of all things, she wanted coffee. That was new too. Elyse had informed him that Marta was showing interest in boys now too. She just was growing up, and that would make things more difficult, but still, she viewed Enrique like a big brother. Marta ordered a cappuccino and sat down, Enrique sitting across from her.

"How is school going?" he asked her.

"Fine - working hard and learning a lot. Sterling helps when I don't understand things. It's easier with the smaller group and being with friends," she said honestly. "Did you have fun the nights I was with Elyse."

Enrique smiled. They had been enjoyable evenings. "I did - made a new friend myself." He and Marisol had a dinner date one night, but neither one felt ready for anything besides friendship and Enrique was content with that.

"Oh," Marta said with a mischievous smile. "Is it a girlfriend?"

"No it's not like that at all..."

"Ricky's got a girlfriend...Ricky's got a girlfriend..." she said in a teasing singsong voice. "I'm kidding! Glad you had fun!"

It was things like that that reinforced that Marta was changing. She never would have teased him like that before. Enrique was getting the idea that he was beginning to see what Marta would have been before her trauma. Now that it was being dealt with, it was starting to come out.]]>
Marta had changed quickly in the last week. Online school had been a good choice for her and going to Kallisti had been helpful as well. That still surprised Enrique, but Marta was growing. The other kids there had accepted her without question. Then she had gone to a group session with them and Elyse's friend Hayden and her confidence had soared. She still struggled. The previous day she had a minor episode, but given that it was minor and her issues were becoming less frequent, she was healing a bit more.

Marta had wanted to go to the coffee shop she had seen Elyse and her friends in the other day, and of all things, she wanted coffee. That was new too. Elyse had informed him that Marta was showing interest in boys now too. She just was growing up, and that would make things more difficult, but still, she viewed Enrique like a big brother. Marta ordered a cappuccino and sat down, Enrique sitting across from her.

"How is school going?" he asked her.

"Fine - working hard and learning a lot. Sterling helps when I don't understand things. It's easier with the smaller group and being with friends," she said honestly. "Did you have fun the nights I was with Elyse."

Enrique smiled. They had been enjoyable evenings. "I did - made a new friend myself." He and Marisol had a dinner date one night, but neither one felt ready for anything besides friendship and Enrique was content with that.

"Oh," Marta said with a mischievous smile. "Is it a girlfriend?"

"No it's not like that at all..."

"Ricky's got a girlfriend...Ricky's got a girlfriend..." she said in a teasing singsong voice. "I'm kidding! Glad you had fun!"

It was things like that that reinforced that Marta was changing. She never would have teased him like that before. Enrique was getting the idea that he was beginning to see what Marta would have been before her trauma. Now that it was being dealt with, it was starting to come out.]]> <![CDATA[A Day Off]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1656.html Tue, 08 Oct 2024 01:34:27 +0000 Elyse]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1656.html
Elyse was happy. Truly happy for the first time since she found out what she was. It hadn’t been an expected journey from traditional Atharim family to burlesque dancer in a relationship with a polyamorous woman. Elyse could only imagine how much her parents would have flipped out about that. They would have likely been okay with her dating a woman. It was 2046 after all, but would have still been disappointed she hadn’t found a man to make them a grandchild with. It was the polyamory that would have gotten them.

Elyse was with Mae - and at this point only Mae. Elyse wasn’t quite sure she was ready for more, but the more she thought about it, the more she was okay with trying that. Mae was with her other partners today and Elyse felt no jealously at this. She had thought a little about the difference between how she had reacted with Nox and Mae. But when it came down to it - Mae wasn’t cheating. Elyse had known about them from the beginning and had accepted it. Being new to this whole idea, Elyse had clarified with Mae - she was allowed to pursue others without guilt.

But Elyse was happy now and decided to spend her day shopping. She had nothing she wanted to buy, but perhaps she would find something here.]]>
Elyse was happy. Truly happy for the first time since she found out what she was. It hadn’t been an expected journey from traditional Atharim family to burlesque dancer in a relationship with a polyamorous woman. Elyse could only imagine how much her parents would have flipped out about that. They would have likely been okay with her dating a woman. It was 2046 after all, but would have still been disappointed she hadn’t found a man to make them a grandchild with. It was the polyamory that would have gotten them.

Elyse was with Mae - and at this point only Mae. Elyse wasn’t quite sure she was ready for more, but the more she thought about it, the more she was okay with trying that. Mae was with her other partners today and Elyse felt no jealously at this. She had thought a little about the difference between how she had reacted with Nox and Mae. But when it came down to it - Mae wasn’t cheating. Elyse had known about them from the beginning and had accepted it. Being new to this whole idea, Elyse had clarified with Mae - she was allowed to pursue others without guilt.

But Elyse was happy now and decided to spend her day shopping. She had nothing she wanted to buy, but perhaps she would find something here.]]> <![CDATA[Mugged]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1416.html Sun, 11 Dec 2022 23:23:49 +0000 Elke]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1416.html
The bridge leading to a cookie cutter outline of buildings was full of people. Some had packages tucked under their arms. Others were distracted by devices. A girl was currently videoing herself posing in front of the pretty buildings.

They were all pointy and painted with designs that reminded Elke of the quaint buildings of the Alps. She smiled to herself and followed the flow of the crowd into the interior. It was an open-air market and Elke smiled broadly as she wandered the stalls. She paused in front of a display of hand-painted nesting dolls and picked one up to examine it.

She offered to buy the doll, and pulled out a cheap, single-use wallet to make the payment. It took her half way traveling across Europe before she learned that money only worked on these devices. She picked one up at a local corner pharmacy store. It was all beat up and cracked. The battery was almost dead. But she held it out for the worker to scan when someone bumped into her.

She fell down with an oof, realizing that the assailant had grabbed her bag and ducked into the crowd.

“Hey!” Stop!"]]>
The bridge leading to a cookie cutter outline of buildings was full of people. Some had packages tucked under their arms. Others were distracted by devices. A girl was currently videoing herself posing in front of the pretty buildings.

They were all pointy and painted with designs that reminded Elke of the quaint buildings of the Alps. She smiled to herself and followed the flow of the crowd into the interior. It was an open-air market and Elke smiled broadly as she wandered the stalls. She paused in front of a display of hand-painted nesting dolls and picked one up to examine it.

She offered to buy the doll, and pulled out a cheap, single-use wallet to make the payment. It took her half way traveling across Europe before she learned that money only worked on these devices. She picked one up at a local corner pharmacy store. It was all beat up and cracked. The battery was almost dead. But she held it out for the worker to scan when someone bumped into her.

She fell down with an oof, realizing that the assailant had grabbed her bag and ducked into the crowd.

“Hey!” Stop!"]]> <![CDATA[Beggars]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1267.html Wed, 22 Jul 2020 22:53:44 +0000 Grym]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1267.html
Grym rolled the back brace out from under the engine and wrapped the wound up in a rag. Music thumped the interior of the warehouse. Daylight streamed from the filthy windows, few as there were. She used the bloody rag to wipe sweat from her neck as she kicked a portable a/c on her way to a locker. After rummaging around, she realized that was the last of the pumps and fired up a cue on her wallet.

“Four days for a fucking pump. I can buy one in an hour.” She spoke to nothing, cringing at the idea of waiting four days for delivery. Something about – eh, who the fuck cared.

Which meant, she was going to have to go out herself. Slapping a band aid on her hand, she shrugged on her jacket, slipped knives into ankle sheathes, and hid a compact 9mm in a back holster. Should suffice for a quick run to the store.

‡‡‡‡‡‡

The train was uneventful. She got off in midtown near a second-hand market she knew stocked some Holden-compatible parts. It was a ten-minute walk or so from the station in what the pretty people called a sketchy neighborhood. If they only knew.

She stopped to grab a bite from a street cart, only to realize that a homeless dog followed her away. She frowned at the grubby blonde face, taking a big, crunchy bite. Maybe she let a little of the meat fall from the wrapper, maybe not, but the beggar lapped it up none the less.

((ooc - Location: General vicinity of the market, but definitely not so touristy an area.))]]> <![CDATA[Paranoia Abounds]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1071.html Wed, 30 Jan 2019 16:01:32 +0000 Yun Kao]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1071.html
The boy wanted to meet in a public place. He wanted coffee. All doable, and since Yun wasn't concerned Slav was the only man she brought with her. He sat at a table with in eye shot, but he was not with in hearing distance, that that it mattered he had a listening device planted on Yun. Blackmail was ever so useful.

Dorian had given him a name - Nox Durante. The file associated with the boy were non-existent. He was a ghost. His birth certificate, gun licenses from the US, his CCD identity. All very clean, not even a parking ticket. The only mars on his record were the two CCD registries - the channeler and the Atharim. A man of both worlds. He'd come here to Moscow, gotten into an accident and here he stayed. Why or how that was even possible was not lost on Yun. These Atharim must have powers beyond even her. He was nothing but a boy.

Yun was dressed in a warm parka in an business suit dress. Not uniform. This wasn't about being a cop informant it was purely business related. And she wasn't on the clock. That was later that night. Where her talents were more often needed. Her gun was tucked under the parka in it's leather holster it was a familiar weight, and brought her comfort. The cold hard steel pressed against her ribs.

The waitress came again with her coffee. "Can I get your guest anything?"

Yun looked up at the girl with a soft smile. "I'm early, it will be cold by the time he arrives." Yup picked up her own Chai latte and sipped at it while she got the lay of the land. This was the boy's choice. Why? It was what she was here to figure out an hour early.]]>
The boy wanted to meet in a public place. He wanted coffee. All doable, and since Yun wasn't concerned Slav was the only man she brought with her. He sat at a table with in eye shot, but he was not with in hearing distance, that that it mattered he had a listening device planted on Yun. Blackmail was ever so useful.

Dorian had given him a name - Nox Durante. The file associated with the boy were non-existent. He was a ghost. His birth certificate, gun licenses from the US, his CCD identity. All very clean, not even a parking ticket. The only mars on his record were the two CCD registries - the channeler and the Atharim. A man of both worlds. He'd come here to Moscow, gotten into an accident and here he stayed. Why or how that was even possible was not lost on Yun. These Atharim must have powers beyond even her. He was nothing but a boy.

Yun was dressed in a warm parka in an business suit dress. Not uniform. This wasn't about being a cop informant it was purely business related. And she wasn't on the clock. That was later that night. Where her talents were more often needed. Her gun was tucked under the parka in it's leather holster it was a familiar weight, and brought her comfort. The cold hard steel pressed against her ribs.

The waitress came again with her coffee. "Can I get your guest anything?"

Yun looked up at the girl with a soft smile. "I'm early, it will be cold by the time he arrives." Yup picked up her own Chai latte and sipped at it while she got the lay of the land. This was the boy's choice. Why? It was what she was here to figure out an hour early.]]> <![CDATA[Baby]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-993.html Sat, 01 Sep 2018 01:57:37 +0000 Rune]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-993.html
Thirty minutes later she was awakened by a thrust to the ribs.
"Ow- hey! Whats the matter with you? I'm sleepin' here." She growled from the depths of her hoodie hood. Flecks of hair stuck out around her face like hay cinched with string. The pink and purple stripes were long ago faded. Lines sank the planes of her face.

"No sleeping on park benches." A deep voice responded. "City ordinance."

"Where do you suggest I sleep then?" She pushed up, rubbing her eyes.

"I don't care, but not here. Now go on about your way."

Rune rolled her eyes, grabbed her bag and pushed to her feet. The guy was dressed in a gray police uniform, she recognized some of the markings of his assignment, but not all of them.

She grumbled as she hefted the straps onto her shoulders. The weight of her backpack dug into tense traps. She felt beat up, but Rune gave as good a beating as she got and only one of the two of them walked away. Part of the oni was what decorated her clothes right now. It was also responsible for most of the odor too. Most of it, anyway. Ever since Uncle Seth died, and all of her connections with the Atharim were severed, it had been a little difficult to pay the rent.

She parted ways with the cop and went in search of the next nearest bench. The undercity was warmer, but she wasn't interested in going back there for at least a few nights. Maybe under a bridge? God her stomach rumbled.

Shots punched the air like thunder. Rune's eyes flared wide and all of her remaining energy (plus a little extra adrenaline) was pumped to her legs. She ran back the way she came and found a pool of blood near the abandoned bench. The cop was no where to be found. Two spent cartridges glinted in the dark nearby.

Hunger and fatigue drained away. The heat of a hunt was enough fuel for now.

But she wouldn't turn down a cheeseburger right then either.

From her backpack she retrieved her baby. She laughed to this day when the store owner practically fell out of his chair when Rune said she was there to buy the .45 ACP then proceeded to load and cock the beast of a gun while barely batting an eyelash. She paid the guy and had Uncle Seth's blessing to punch him in the face for the names he called her.

She chuckled even now. This gun was her baby. She even had a name for it.

Rune closed her eyes and drew a deep, satisfying breath. The stench of bloodlust and fear told her which way to go even as her nose wrinkled up doing it.]]>
Thirty minutes later she was awakened by a thrust to the ribs.
"Ow- hey! Whats the matter with you? I'm sleepin' here." She growled from the depths of her hoodie hood. Flecks of hair stuck out around her face like hay cinched with string. The pink and purple stripes were long ago faded. Lines sank the planes of her face.

"No sleeping on park benches." A deep voice responded. "City ordinance."

"Where do you suggest I sleep then?" She pushed up, rubbing her eyes.

"I don't care, but not here. Now go on about your way."

Rune rolled her eyes, grabbed her bag and pushed to her feet. The guy was dressed in a gray police uniform, she recognized some of the markings of his assignment, but not all of them.

She grumbled as she hefted the straps onto her shoulders. The weight of her backpack dug into tense traps. She felt beat up, but Rune gave as good a beating as she got and only one of the two of them walked away. Part of the oni was what decorated her clothes right now. It was also responsible for most of the odor too. Most of it, anyway. Ever since Uncle Seth died, and all of her connections with the Atharim were severed, it had been a little difficult to pay the rent.

She parted ways with the cop and went in search of the next nearest bench. The undercity was warmer, but she wasn't interested in going back there for at least a few nights. Maybe under a bridge? God her stomach rumbled.

Shots punched the air like thunder. Rune's eyes flared wide and all of her remaining energy (plus a little extra adrenaline) was pumped to her legs. She ran back the way she came and found a pool of blood near the abandoned bench. The cop was no where to be found. Two spent cartridges glinted in the dark nearby.

Hunger and fatigue drained away. The heat of a hunt was enough fuel for now.

But she wouldn't turn down a cheeseburger right then either.

From her backpack she retrieved her baby. She laughed to this day when the store owner practically fell out of his chair when Rune said she was there to buy the .45 ACP then proceeded to load and cock the beast of a gun while barely batting an eyelash. She paid the guy and had Uncle Seth's blessing to punch him in the face for the names he called her.

She chuckled even now. This gun was her baby. She even had a name for it.

Rune closed her eyes and drew a deep, satisfying breath. The stench of bloodlust and fear told her which way to go even as her nose wrinkled up doing it.]]> <![CDATA[Bright Flowers]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-693.html Sat, 10 Feb 2018 17:56:00 +0000 Kiriena]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-693.html
With the upcoming fundraiser for Africa, she had a lot of people coming in for corsages and boutonnieres. That was keeping her and her two employees busy. She was really hoping that they would want arrangements for the tables at the event. Kiriena imagined that the colors would enliven the event as well.

Kiriena's hum turned into a song as she moved to a group of white roses. This particular group looked very beautiful today. She was interrupted by a ringing phone. Kiriena smiled and grabbed a hand towel and wiped the dirt off of her hands before picking up the phone.

"Good evening, Kiriena's Flowers, can I help you?"
]]>
With the upcoming fundraiser for Africa, she had a lot of people coming in for corsages and boutonnieres. That was keeping her and her two employees busy. She was really hoping that they would want arrangements for the tables at the event. Kiriena imagined that the colors would enliven the event as well.

Kiriena's hum turned into a song as she moved to a group of white roses. This particular group looked very beautiful today. She was interrupted by a ringing phone. Kiriena smiled and grabbed a hand towel and wiped the dirt off of her hands before picking up the phone.

"Good evening, Kiriena's Flowers, can I help you?"
]]> <![CDATA[Spilled drinks]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-694.html Thu, 23 Nov 2017 22:34:00 +0000 Dane Gregory]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-694.html "It's a good color on you."
He did up a little knot and sinched it at her throat. She coughed and pulled it looser with a finger. "Too tight?"
She laughed, nodded and fixed it the way she liked it. He happily paid for the scarf and asked if she was ready to eat.

They walked side-by-side away from the bustle of the market. It was a good six blocks to the restaurant he chose. At the pace they strolled, it was after eleven by the time they arrived. The restaurant kept a minimal kitchen offering after ten, but neither of them cared. A dark bar took up the entirety of the shotgun style restaurant. There were only eight tables in total lining the opposite wall. With most people huddled around the bar top, they had their choice of tables. Dane chose the one closest to the front door and guided her to a seat.

Annalise ordered a cocktail, and he copied her selection, complimenting her on the choice. Their conversation was much the same as it had been in the library, although it was no longer tempered by hushed voices of the former atmosphere. He offered a toast to new friends when their drinks arrived, but while she sampled the libation, he only put the rim of the glass to his lips. Then he joined her in complimenting the drink.

When she asked where he grew up, he went into great detail about the place he called home. "My great grandfather was a Duke. Although the CCD abolished the peerage, our titles exist only in tradition. My grandfather holds the esteemed title of Duke. My father that of mere courtesy titles and with the recent passing of my brother, I have inherited the right to the title of Baron."
She seemed to have no clue what he was trying to say. His voice sharpened suddenly, "It means I should be addressed as Lord Gregory."

Of course, the bite with which he substantiated his explanation was quickly retracted. "Please, I am sorry. With my brother's sudden demise, a terrible, terrible accident, I know that I will inherit only the shame of former glory. It is a melancholy title that I do not lightly use."

When Annalise softened, she put her hand on his and while he restrained himself from recoiling at the sudden touch, he forced his fingers to close around hers, knowing that victory was at hand.

"I'm so sorry, Dane. My heart goes out to you. You have a kind and loving heart. I see now why you were in the library."

He rimmed the glass with a finger, avoiding her gaze like the vulnerability was too painful.

She shifted in her seat to switch from sitting across from him to sitting alongside him. While she slid the seat near, his gaze flicked to the other inhabitants in the room, in case anyone was watching, but smiled softly when she met his eyes.

A touch on his arm, a hand laid across his shoulder. He stopped himself from recoiling every time. She finished her cocktail while his seemed untouched. After ordering a second, she excused herself to use the restroom. Dane shifted in his seat, meanwhile, and padded the pocket of his sportscoat, ensuring that the vial within remained hidden.

Until a waiter delivered her new drink. He stared at it, glistening there, a pool of pale blue cupped atop a slender stem. His heart began to race as he slipped the vial into his palm.

Concealed, he picked up his own drink, took a small sip, then dropped it as he set it down. He sprung up to contain the mess of liquid from pouring into his lap. The noise of the drop summoned a waiter, but he retrieved her glass from the ensuing flood of sticky liquid. Just before placing it on a nearby table, he turned, obscuring the cup with the form of his body, and poured the vial's contents into her drink.

He smiled to himself and made himself comfortable at the next table while the wait staff cleared the mess.

Edited by Dane Gregory, Nov 23 2017, 10:36 PM.]]> "It's a good color on you."
He did up a little knot and sinched it at her throat. She coughed and pulled it looser with a finger. "Too tight?"
She laughed, nodded and fixed it the way she liked it. He happily paid for the scarf and asked if she was ready to eat.

They walked side-by-side away from the bustle of the market. It was a good six blocks to the restaurant he chose. At the pace they strolled, it was after eleven by the time they arrived. The restaurant kept a minimal kitchen offering after ten, but neither of them cared. A dark bar took up the entirety of the shotgun style restaurant. There were only eight tables in total lining the opposite wall. With most people huddled around the bar top, they had their choice of tables. Dane chose the one closest to the front door and guided her to a seat.

Annalise ordered a cocktail, and he copied her selection, complimenting her on the choice. Their conversation was much the same as it had been in the library, although it was no longer tempered by hushed voices of the former atmosphere. He offered a toast to new friends when their drinks arrived, but while she sampled the libation, he only put the rim of the glass to his lips. Then he joined her in complimenting the drink.

When she asked where he grew up, he went into great detail about the place he called home. "My great grandfather was a Duke. Although the CCD abolished the peerage, our titles exist only in tradition. My grandfather holds the esteemed title of Duke. My father that of mere courtesy titles and with the recent passing of my brother, I have inherited the right to the title of Baron."
She seemed to have no clue what he was trying to say. His voice sharpened suddenly, "It means I should be addressed as Lord Gregory."

Of course, the bite with which he substantiated his explanation was quickly retracted. "Please, I am sorry. With my brother's sudden demise, a terrible, terrible accident, I know that I will inherit only the shame of former glory. It is a melancholy title that I do not lightly use."

When Annalise softened, she put her hand on his and while he restrained himself from recoiling at the sudden touch, he forced his fingers to close around hers, knowing that victory was at hand.

"I'm so sorry, Dane. My heart goes out to you. You have a kind and loving heart. I see now why you were in the library."

He rimmed the glass with a finger, avoiding her gaze like the vulnerability was too painful.

She shifted in her seat to switch from sitting across from him to sitting alongside him. While she slid the seat near, his gaze flicked to the other inhabitants in the room, in case anyone was watching, but smiled softly when she met his eyes.

A touch on his arm, a hand laid across his shoulder. He stopped himself from recoiling every time. She finished her cocktail while his seemed untouched. After ordering a second, she excused herself to use the restroom. Dane shifted in his seat, meanwhile, and padded the pocket of his sportscoat, ensuring that the vial within remained hidden.

Until a waiter delivered her new drink. He stared at it, glistening there, a pool of pale blue cupped atop a slender stem. His heart began to race as he slipped the vial into his palm.

Concealed, he picked up his own drink, took a small sip, then dropped it as he set it down. He sprung up to contain the mess of liquid from pouring into his lap. The noise of the drop summoned a waiter, but he retrieved her glass from the ensuing flood of sticky liquid. Just before placing it on a nearby table, he turned, obscuring the cup with the form of his body, and poured the vial's contents into her drink.

He smiled to himself and made himself comfortable at the next table while the wait staff cleared the mess.

Edited by Dane Gregory, Nov 23 2017, 10:36 PM.]]> <![CDATA[A Meeting of Threads]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-695.html Tue, 11 Oct 2016 09:44:00 +0000 Jared Vanders]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-695.html
He still stood with a military precision. Certain habits were hard to break. Jared took a deep breath and looked around the market. He stepped into a shop and began to examine the wares. He had no plans to buy anything, he just wanted to look.

Having seen Sierra Leone, he had to marvel at everything they had here. There was so much here where as the Sierra Leonans had so little. Most of these items were unnecessary to anyone. He hoped that someday, more people could live in this kind of prosperity.

He left the shop he was in and decided to walk farther. Strangely enough, he was so used to being busy that he didn't know what to do with his free time.

Edited by Jared Vanders, Oct 11 2016, 09:44 AM.]]>
He still stood with a military precision. Certain habits were hard to break. Jared took a deep breath and looked around the market. He stepped into a shop and began to examine the wares. He had no plans to buy anything, he just wanted to look.

Having seen Sierra Leone, he had to marvel at everything they had here. There was so much here where as the Sierra Leonans had so little. Most of these items were unnecessary to anyone. He hoped that someday, more people could live in this kind of prosperity.

He left the shop he was in and decided to walk farther. Strangely enough, he was so used to being busy that he didn't know what to do with his free time.

Edited by Jared Vanders, Oct 11 2016, 09:44 AM.]]> <![CDATA[The Silversmith (closed)]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-696.html Wed, 13 Apr 2016 14:19:00 +0000 Manix]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-696.html The Design was the work of weeks hunched over a little table in his hidden home. A flask, holding slightly over a pint of liquid, had a slight curve to it allowing ti to fit comfortably on the hip. Re-enforced belt straps will ensure that it will not be ripped off his belt. Silver was not necessary, nor is the ornamentation, but to get what you want, you have to indulge those those are willing to make it. The genius was in the lid. A flat top roughly 5" x 2", was set on 4 pins with springs. With a pin in each corner the lid could be pressed down and when the hand and when the hand was removed the lid would seal itself back into place. The silversmith added to the lid design, small drain holes with splash pans underneath to prevent splash-back and spillage, even if inverted upside down.
(Shop Interior) "G'day sir Smith, does me order be ready?"
Manix talked so little his deep Irish brogue surprised himself. The Silversmith donned his fake upper middle class customer smile. "Yes sir.........."
Manix never gave name, just a huge deposit, and yet the Silversmith continues to try. "It is ready, just moment."
Returning from the back room, the Smith carried a work of art. With the the surname "Lir" in bold, ornate letters, was visions of the seas. Taking the flask, Manix filled it with a sturdy bottle of sea water from his home. Slowly and carefully he checked for leaks, even upside down it never leaked. The Smith looked insulted, of course he tested it to perfection, but Manix only trusted what he could see and feel.
*smiles* sliding a think envelopes of marks over, he tipped his hat to the Smith. "Amazing work my going man, just amazing. G'day sir Smith."
. The Smith waves absent mined now he has his reward for his work as Manix leaves. Outside he attaches the flask to his belt. Slipping his hand into the water of his home he is overwhelmed. Something takes over! Treads of brown and red form and encases his flask and hand. He is not in control, he can not stop it, he cant even breath. The flask glows red, then white, yet does not burn. As fast as it started it ends, Manix quickly removes his hand, not a drop is spilled. Manix sat, or rather fell down onto edge of a fountain. Exhausted from the ordeal, thoughts now enters his head of who could of seen.
Looking at the flask, it looked plain, made of leather. Surprised he touched it, upon his touch it turned back into the work of art, yet different. The seas came alive, the waves flowed upon the sea's. Larger than life where the surname was was the image of the ancient God, Manannan Mac Lir. Awed and humbled, he knew then that the God himself had a hand in what just happened. Sitting on that edge he thought of what that meant.]]> The Design was the work of weeks hunched over a little table in his hidden home. A flask, holding slightly over a pint of liquid, had a slight curve to it allowing ti to fit comfortably on the hip. Re-enforced belt straps will ensure that it will not be ripped off his belt. Silver was not necessary, nor is the ornamentation, but to get what you want, you have to indulge those those are willing to make it. The genius was in the lid. A flat top roughly 5" x 2", was set on 4 pins with springs. With a pin in each corner the lid could be pressed down and when the hand and when the hand was removed the lid would seal itself back into place. The silversmith added to the lid design, small drain holes with splash pans underneath to prevent splash-back and spillage, even if inverted upside down.
(Shop Interior) "G'day sir Smith, does me order be ready?"
Manix talked so little his deep Irish brogue surprised himself. The Silversmith donned his fake upper middle class customer smile. "Yes sir.........."
Manix never gave name, just a huge deposit, and yet the Silversmith continues to try. "It is ready, just moment."
Returning from the back room, the Smith carried a work of art. With the the surname "Lir" in bold, ornate letters, was visions of the seas. Taking the flask, Manix filled it with a sturdy bottle of sea water from his home. Slowly and carefully he checked for leaks, even upside down it never leaked. The Smith looked insulted, of course he tested it to perfection, but Manix only trusted what he could see and feel.
*smiles* sliding a think envelopes of marks over, he tipped his hat to the Smith. "Amazing work my going man, just amazing. G'day sir Smith."
. The Smith waves absent mined now he has his reward for his work as Manix leaves. Outside he attaches the flask to his belt. Slipping his hand into the water of his home he is overwhelmed. Something takes over! Treads of brown and red form and encases his flask and hand. He is not in control, he can not stop it, he cant even breath. The flask glows red, then white, yet does not burn. As fast as it started it ends, Manix quickly removes his hand, not a drop is spilled. Manix sat, or rather fell down onto edge of a fountain. Exhausted from the ordeal, thoughts now enters his head of who could of seen.
Looking at the flask, it looked plain, made of leather. Surprised he touched it, upon his touch it turned back into the work of art, yet different. The seas came alive, the waves flowed upon the sea's. Larger than life where the surname was was the image of the ancient God, Manannan Mac Lir. Awed and humbled, he knew then that the God himself had a hand in what just happened. Sitting on that edge he thought of what that meant.]]> <![CDATA[Preparations]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-697.html Thu, 21 May 2015 09:16:00 +0000 Ayden]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-697.html
But she also had other things to worry about. Ayden had done as Emily suggested, she'd put in her resume into the pool at Shale International, specific to the Moscow division starting up. Head of Security didn't exactly seem her game after been an assassin, but she also had a very different outlook on things than most others.

Ayden hated lying to Emily, but her resume was full of bullshit that was tied to her new persona. Things that explained what she'd been doing her whole life. All lies, well mostly, there were some half truths. But Ayden hadn't planned on working for a real business firm with proper business attire, that was what today's journey to the open air market was for. She could probably find better things at the mall, but the idea of walking through the market again creating a new identity for a real purpose it had its appeal. She'd come full circle - from assassin for hire to a working woman about to get married. The idea itself terrified her, but she loved Connor.

The market was crowded despite the winter chill in the morning air. Ayden walked down the street browsing each stall. Stopping when a piece of jewelry or belt caught her fancy. She'd find something she liked.]]>
But she also had other things to worry about. Ayden had done as Emily suggested, she'd put in her resume into the pool at Shale International, specific to the Moscow division starting up. Head of Security didn't exactly seem her game after been an assassin, but she also had a very different outlook on things than most others.

Ayden hated lying to Emily, but her resume was full of bullshit that was tied to her new persona. Things that explained what she'd been doing her whole life. All lies, well mostly, there were some half truths. But Ayden hadn't planned on working for a real business firm with proper business attire, that was what today's journey to the open air market was for. She could probably find better things at the mall, but the idea of walking through the market again creating a new identity for a real purpose it had its appeal. She'd come full circle - from assassin for hire to a working woman about to get married. The idea itself terrified her, but she loved Connor.

The market was crowded despite the winter chill in the morning air. Ayden walked down the street browsing each stall. Stopping when a piece of jewelry or belt caught her fancy. She'd find something she liked.]]> <![CDATA[New Beginnings]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-698.html Fri, 23 Jan 2015 16:43:00 +0000 Calvin]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-698.html
Last night had been an AA meeting and Calvin hadn't made it. That reminded him that he should call Lucas and let him know everything was okay. He had missed because he had been working on Chase's assignment and was so exhausted he fell asleep early.

Calvin leaned against a wall, took out his wallet, and dialed Lucas. "This is Lucas."

Calvin smiled. "Hi Lucas - it's Calvin calling. How are you?"

"Good. Just finishing up with work. What's up?"

"I wanted to call and check in because I missed the meeting last night. I've been working pretty hard this week and fell asleep early. Everything is fine. Still alcohol free."
That thought still made Calvin smile.

"Glad to hear it. You keeping up with your routine?"

"Yes, sir. Practice guitar every day. I started working out too. I had a couple of things I wanted to run by you too - if you have time."

Calvin had been thinking about a career change ever since he had started getting better and now was considering going to Police Academy. He got the idea from when he was the Wolfman - the difference would be that this time he'd be doing it the right way. He wanted to help protect people - but not injure others in the process. The problem was his record. He was looking to get it expunged.

Calvin waited for Lucas response. He could hear the smile in the man's face. "Good. Don't let up. I told you I'm going to be blunt with you. I'm glad you're sticking to it. You'll see it helps. So what's up?"

"I've been thinking about a career change - looking into entering into the Police Academy. I'd have to get my criminal record expunged and a letter from my sponsor might help with that. I'm not asking you for it now - I think I need to continue focusing on beating my addiction now, but for the future - I mean - I should wait right?"

"It's good to have goals like that. But you're being smart. You don't want to change your routine too much right now until it IS a routine. Where you don't feel right unless you've done it."
He heard a laugh. "I'll tell you what, you'll be busy. But that's a good thing. I'd be happy to help."

Calvin smiled and laughed. "Thanks - while on the topic of life-long decisions, I'm also thinking of getting a tattoo. I know that's kind of what you do. Would you be interested in meeting and maybe going over some ideas sometime?"

"Sure. I can help with that. No problem."

"Great."
Calvin paused for a moment. "Well I won't keep you any longer. I have food to buy and I'm sure you have things to do as well. It was good talking to you and have a good day.

"You too Calvin. You will see, the longer you go, the more proactive you are, the better you'll feel. You'll feel empowered."

"Thanks, man. Good night.

They hung up and Calvin decided to bring the career change up to Alex as well - she might have more to add on that. He would also need to get her recommendation on the expungement. He really thought that this was what he wanted to do, and hopefully could overcome the obstacles with that.

Calvin kept his Wallet in his hand and began walking again. There was a slight crowd in the market and Calvin bumped against some people. Calvin said apologies when needed and approached what appeared to be a vegetable market. He could start there and then get the steak later.

((With Lucas))

Edited by Calvin, Jan 23 2015, 07:27 PM.]]>
Last night had been an AA meeting and Calvin hadn't made it. That reminded him that he should call Lucas and let him know everything was okay. He had missed because he had been working on Chase's assignment and was so exhausted he fell asleep early.

Calvin leaned against a wall, took out his wallet, and dialed Lucas. "This is Lucas."

Calvin smiled. "Hi Lucas - it's Calvin calling. How are you?"

"Good. Just finishing up with work. What's up?"

"I wanted to call and check in because I missed the meeting last night. I've been working pretty hard this week and fell asleep early. Everything is fine. Still alcohol free."
That thought still made Calvin smile.

"Glad to hear it. You keeping up with your routine?"

"Yes, sir. Practice guitar every day. I started working out too. I had a couple of things I wanted to run by you too - if you have time."

Calvin had been thinking about a career change ever since he had started getting better and now was considering going to Police Academy. He got the idea from when he was the Wolfman - the difference would be that this time he'd be doing it the right way. He wanted to help protect people - but not injure others in the process. The problem was his record. He was looking to get it expunged.

Calvin waited for Lucas response. He could hear the smile in the man's face. "Good. Don't let up. I told you I'm going to be blunt with you. I'm glad you're sticking to it. You'll see it helps. So what's up?"

"I've been thinking about a career change - looking into entering into the Police Academy. I'd have to get my criminal record expunged and a letter from my sponsor might help with that. I'm not asking you for it now - I think I need to continue focusing on beating my addiction now, but for the future - I mean - I should wait right?"

"It's good to have goals like that. But you're being smart. You don't want to change your routine too much right now until it IS a routine. Where you don't feel right unless you've done it."
He heard a laugh. "I'll tell you what, you'll be busy. But that's a good thing. I'd be happy to help."

Calvin smiled and laughed. "Thanks - while on the topic of life-long decisions, I'm also thinking of getting a tattoo. I know that's kind of what you do. Would you be interested in meeting and maybe going over some ideas sometime?"

"Sure. I can help with that. No problem."

"Great."
Calvin paused for a moment. "Well I won't keep you any longer. I have food to buy and I'm sure you have things to do as well. It was good talking to you and have a good day.

"You too Calvin. You will see, the longer you go, the more proactive you are, the better you'll feel. You'll feel empowered."

"Thanks, man. Good night.

They hung up and Calvin decided to bring the career change up to Alex as well - she might have more to add on that. He would also need to get her recommendation on the expungement. He really thought that this was what he wanted to do, and hopefully could overcome the obstacles with that.

Calvin kept his Wallet in his hand and began walking again. There was a slight crowd in the market and Calvin bumped against some people. Calvin said apologies when needed and approached what appeared to be a vegetable market. He could start there and then get the steak later.

((With Lucas))

Edited by Calvin, Jan 23 2015, 07:27 PM.]]> <![CDATA[Stop. Basket time.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-699.html Sat, 10 Jan 2015 01:14:00 +0000 Zoya Bocharov]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-699.html
Looking down at her wallet Zo scrolled through the names on her contact list. Ayden’s name was the first on the list, and she’d paused to stare at it for a moment. She needed to call her. Since the incident at the river, Zo had put off calling the other woman for far too long. The warning in Ayden’s words still rang loudly in her ears, but part of her was still too nervous to bring herself to make the call. Soon, though, she had to do it soon.

Finding Ivan’s number, she quickly set to sending him a message.

Beat you here, Supercop. Meet you outside the shop.

Putting the wallet away, she slipped her hands in her pockets. The day was a little chilly, but it wasn’t something she couldn’t tolerate. Outside of the shops, people made their way without so much as a glance in her direction. It was a busy day, but that wasn’t strange for the marketplace.

Every now and then, Zoya looked through the crowd for Ivan’s tall figure. In the past few weeks the two of them had managed to spend some time together. As far as she was concerned, they were still just getting to know each other, but she still couldn’t shake the sense of familiarity he gave her whenever he drew close. When she stopped to think about it after putting some distance between them, the whole situation made her restless. Yet, she had no desire to stop seeing him just yet.
]]>
Looking down at her wallet Zo scrolled through the names on her contact list. Ayden’s name was the first on the list, and she’d paused to stare at it for a moment. She needed to call her. Since the incident at the river, Zo had put off calling the other woman for far too long. The warning in Ayden’s words still rang loudly in her ears, but part of her was still too nervous to bring herself to make the call. Soon, though, she had to do it soon.

Finding Ivan’s number, she quickly set to sending him a message.

Beat you here, Supercop. Meet you outside the shop.

Putting the wallet away, she slipped her hands in her pockets. The day was a little chilly, but it wasn’t something she couldn’t tolerate. Outside of the shops, people made their way without so much as a glance in her direction. It was a busy day, but that wasn’t strange for the marketplace.

Every now and then, Zoya looked through the crowd for Ivan’s tall figure. In the past few weeks the two of them had managed to spend some time together. As far as she was concerned, they were still just getting to know each other, but she still couldn’t shake the sense of familiarity he gave her whenever he drew close. When she stopped to think about it after putting some distance between them, the whole situation made her restless. Yet, she had no desire to stop seeing him just yet.
]]>