https://thefirstage.org/forums/ Fri, 15 May 2026 05:33:57 +0000 MyBB https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1959.html Wed, 04 Feb 2026 18:41:38 +0000 Ilesha]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1959.html
And as the snow fell Ilesha remembered the last blizard she'd been through with her parents, how the ground was white -- and the city was dead silent. Moscow had slowed to a crawl but it was still trying. It wasn't that dead yet -- yet being the keyword. It was only going to get worse.

Ilesha hunkered down in her own apartment but she had to check on the garage below first. Last thing she needed was for the doors to cave in because of the snow.  Buring all the equipment inside would be bad. And cost too much money for both her semi-employeer and herself. She didn't want to have to replace things when she could make sure everything was shored up nice and tight -- a little magic here -- a little there and it would all be good.

She might have to undo some of it later -- like the tiny hinges might get sealed shut but that was the price you paid for strength -- the tiny little movments might be impared.  That was the biggest problem she was finding in making her armor.  That strength and movement seemed counter intuitive. She needed to find a better way.

But she was down stairs in the garage -- well outside it.  Her hands on the walls filling the cracks with the power.  She wasn't going to let her home fall because of the storm or poor maintenance.]]>
And as the snow fell Ilesha remembered the last blizard she'd been through with her parents, how the ground was white -- and the city was dead silent. Moscow had slowed to a crawl but it was still trying. It wasn't that dead yet -- yet being the keyword. It was only going to get worse.

Ilesha hunkered down in her own apartment but she had to check on the garage below first. Last thing she needed was for the doors to cave in because of the snow.  Buring all the equipment inside would be bad. And cost too much money for both her semi-employeer and herself. She didn't want to have to replace things when she could make sure everything was shored up nice and tight -- a little magic here -- a little there and it would all be good.

She might have to undo some of it later -- like the tiny hinges might get sealed shut but that was the price you paid for strength -- the tiny little movments might be impared.  That was the biggest problem she was finding in making her armor.  That strength and movement seemed counter intuitive. She needed to find a better way.

But she was down stairs in the garage -- well outside it.  Her hands on the walls filling the cracks with the power.  She wasn't going to let her home fall because of the storm or poor maintenance.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1948.html Wed, 28 Jan 2026 19:10:55 +0000 Cade]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1948.html
But while they were out Cade picked out new bed sheets, towels, some cool plates and glasses. It was starting to feel like home. The weather was getting worse but he hoped it would hold out, he wanted to pay Anna back for all the help by cooking he a hot meal -- something his dad used to make for them on cold winter days -- a bit ole pot of homemade chilli.  The sauce had been simmering while they were gone, so the new apartment smelled wonderful.

Anna was helping him carry the smaller things up and he smiled as he offered to take them from her to put on the counter "I hope you'll stay, let me serve you some of my dad's chilli and some homemade corn bread." That was his step-mom's recipe.  He didn't really have anything from his mother, he would have to ask Nox if there was anything special -- though from the way Nox cooked Cade was pretty sure he did most of the cooking even as a kid.]]>
But while they were out Cade picked out new bed sheets, towels, some cool plates and glasses. It was starting to feel like home. The weather was getting worse but he hoped it would hold out, he wanted to pay Anna back for all the help by cooking he a hot meal -- something his dad used to make for them on cold winter days -- a bit ole pot of homemade chilli.  The sauce had been simmering while they were gone, so the new apartment smelled wonderful.

Anna was helping him carry the smaller things up and he smiled as he offered to take them from her to put on the counter "I hope you'll stay, let me serve you some of my dad's chilli and some homemade corn bread." That was his step-mom's recipe.  He didn't really have anything from his mother, he would have to ask Nox if there was anything special -- though from the way Nox cooked Cade was pretty sure he did most of the cooking even as a kid.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1883.html Thu, 16 Oct 2025 10:27:08 +0000 Natalie Grey]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1883.html Lunch Date [Estella Restaurant]]]

Traffic in the city was always jammed, and she had plenty of time to think in the back of the cab. Jay was being held in an office, or in his words, “hell.” Natalie had no idea what kind of consequences awaited, or how much Vellas might know about the surrounding circumstance. Even if he did, military command was unlikely to be yielding just because he was grieving. Jay’s value as a Dominion would likely spare him more than any consideration of his losses at the Amengual’s hands, let alone the Custody’s complicity in it all. Even if she wanted to, she had no power to interfere in his punishment.

An Amengual diplomat at the Garden hadn’t surprised her, though it made her stomach sink. Nothing had been announced officially yet, but all the pieces were there: Zacarías’ presence at the charity ball, Scion Marveet’s interference in Mexico, Jessika Thrice’s continued rise. Natalie kept abreast of the changing politics, but distant too – she had little intention of being a player in that game, despite her grandfather’s hopes, and even less to be used once more as a pawn. The Custody sanctioned even the most heinous of crimes so long as the beast was fed and the facade was maintained. One only had to look at a wealthy Moscovite family like the Vasilievs to see it. The cartels of Mexico, so long as they conformed to Nikolai Brandon’s vision, would be no different. She couldn't shield Jay from that either.

The piano musicbox Emily had gifted her sat in her lap as they idled, cupped lightly inside her hands. She’d been listening to the tune play a while amidst the heavy din of city noise – impatient horns and the start-stop rumble of the engine as they made crawling progress. The window was fogged white with the cold. It was only late afternoon but the sun was already squeezed out empty, shadows chasing the frozen spaces into a gloomy night.

He is a soldier, my darling. Nothing more, nothing less. And he belongs to the Ascendancy. That is all I intend to say on the matter.

If there was one thing she hated, it was when words she didn’t want to hear were true. Those ones had followed a warning she was quite prepared to ignore, but it didn’t change the fact that Edward was right. Jay was a ghost in his own life. Time wouldn’t heal what was broken, only brutalise what was left. She didn’t want to watch that. And alone she wasn’t enough.

She’d never intended to even inform the Channeling Consulate of her plans for Belizna, let alone Brandon’s sly military arm, lest they be crushed before they even started – else worse, be beholden down the line to the whims of a government Natalie didn’t trust. She knew little of Commander Vellas, and that little comprised of things she sometimes wondered if Jay was actually supposed to impart, or realised he did. But there was respect there, and Vellas’s own route to his position had been unconventional at best. It was worth the risk to find out more.

Gaining access to him wouldn’t be easy though, even for a Patron’s granddaughter. Fortunately Natalie was persistent, most especially with sufficient motivation. If she could gain an audience with the Ascendancy himself in order to discover what had happened to Jay after his arrest, she could certainly find the man he trusted to lead his men now Jay was a Dominion among them. 

Right now Vellas would likely be occupied with smoothing over the incident, but it would take time to force her way to his direct line anyway. She tucked the musicbox away and leaned over to pay the bored driver. They’d already been stuck in this spot twenty minutes, and there was a coffee shop nearby. She could walk home from there when she was done.

---

When she eventually did get through to him, Michael gave little away over the call, not least whether he had been surprised to receive it. Reaching out to him was not without risk, and she disliked the notion it was a tentative bridge which might prove dangerous to her down the line. He was a generous and eloquent speaker, though, and Natalie reasoned it suggested he would be amenable to the request she would make of him. Charm and certainty were her tools, though she would use leverage as necessary. And he agreed to the meeting at least, intrigued by the project she described, or else by the woman who moved mountains to speak to him directly in the first place.

The dark fell early this time of year, and the temperature had plummeted noticeably after the sunset. Natalie pulled her coat close as the ding of the bell above the door marked her exit onto the street. She’d heard from Jay since, asking after painkillers, which she knew they didn’t have. It wasn’t hard to sort though; she promised a delivery would be waiting by the time he got back to the apartment. If he was hunting down relief, at least they weren’t detaining him further at the Garden. Her conversation with Vellas hadn’t included mention of her knowing what had happened today; she didn’t call to beg for clemency, and in fact had not mentioned Jay at all. The silence of waiting to hear from him had gnawed in the meantime, but it was probably better not to interfere in that way. Not that it meant she hadn’t wanted to.

Another message arrived soon after.

Going to swing by the RLD. Grabbing something better for my hand. The good stuff.

That one gave her pause. A literal one. Natalie had been doggedly sober since the casino, still bruised by the memory of it, but she understood the lure of a chemical escape all too well. Sometimes it was the only way to unhook, and in the past she’d done stupid things herself in an effort to drown out the noise, so it wasn’t condemnation that pressed a heaviness in her chest. If the relief he sought was for pain, she doubted he was actually talking about his hand. Or not just. She only swallowed the sting.

Then she almost dropped the fucking wallet as a finger reached over to press down the screen. The pale glow lit a woman’s face hovering above, amused eyes shining under a short slash of inky hair.

“Fuck, Toma,” Natalie muttered, heart still racing. The woman only chuckled and swiped the screen downwards.

“So distracted, dear one. I did send you a message.”

And sure enough it was there unread in the silenced notification bar, amongst several others waiting attention: just a pair of emoji eyes.

Natalie only rolled her own. She hadn’t seen Toma since before Oscar fetched her to London, though there had been the odd suggestive meme concerning her new living arrangements. Enough for Natalie to know the contract for her “protection” must still stand, but apparently only requiring a low maintenance touch of nosiness. Which begged the question of her unsolicited appearance now, in the middle of the darkened street.

Toma had a way of looking at people like they were an interesting book she was reading, curious to turn the page, but ultimately unaffected by the ending. “What have you been up to?” She mused it in a singsong way, mostly to herself as her gaze drank up and down, but Natalie felt the cooling race of her pulse begin to freeze as the shock faded and her mind whirred instead. Toma’s lips curled a small smile, as though reading her mind, and she added: “You aren’t going to like this.”

---

The apartment was totalled.

Natalie stood by the smashed up piano, once a stately Bösendorfer, now a criss-cross of splintered wood and spilled ivory keys. Crockery and glass spread rivers of sharp shards across the floor. Cupboards were yanked loose off their frames with their innards ripped free. Bedsheets shredded, mattress split. Mirrors cracked and fallen. Toma watched her reaction from the slashed up sofa, arms comfortably outstretched as she nestled in its bare bones and fluffy innards. The apartment had never been a home, not truly, but the devastation nonetheless felt like a violation. Natalie’s emotions were quiet as she smothered the sick feeling of vulnerability rising inside. She touched the healed scars on the inside of her wrists, just for a moment.

“You didn’t think so stop them, Toma?”

The woman shrugged. “I protect people, not things. And here you are, safe and well, dear Natalie. I wanted to tell you that they didn’t take anything. Didn’t leave anything either, beyond the obvious message. Nor did they intend to wait for you.”

“My father, then?” The highrise was expensive and state-of-the-art security conscious, the locks specifically coded. Beyond the Northbrooks themselves only Jay had access. Alistair had circumvented it once though, somehow leaving the holo for her to find after the ball. His lessons could be cruel but she couldn’t think of a reason for this one. The more obvious answer was the one she was less willing to consider: DeGarmo. The questions he warned her away from asking and she had begun asking anyway. He’d told her he had information for her before he disappeared. And now this.

“I don’t know yet. Your little visitors won’t be coming back, though.” Toma gave a toothy grin which Natalie looked away from. Her voice was as pleased as a purr, and she really didn’t want to know why.

“Okay,” she said instead, trying to steady herself. Toma was at her side then, sleek and soundless as a cat despite the debris littering the floor. She reached for Natalie’s hand, ignoring the brief tremor Natalie suppressed with a flinch for the contact. A pendant and chain hung from her fingers, and she coiled it in Natalie’s palm, closing her fingers overtop. Her head titled, but she didn’t offer comfort. Instead she left.

Natalie glanced at the trinket, but only for a moment before she let it fall in her coat pocket. She ran her hands over her face, hardened herself inside. “Fuck.” The word steeled her. Purpose replaced fear. Jay couldn’t come back to this, she realised. She knew he’d find some way to blame himself – like his very presence was the cause of disaster around him, and not the one thing she was desperate to keep. She could tell him not to come here but didn’t trust him to pick up his messages, or worse to stupidly think she was kicking him out in the midst of his spiral. And she had no idea what state he’d even be in when he stumbled through the door. If he stumbled through the door tonight. Last time he disappeared for days.

She let the coat slide down her arms and draped it over on the ruined sofa, which at least seemed free of glass. Then she rolled her sleeves and wondered where to even begin the salvage. It seemed pointless, it was pointless, but she needed something to do. A way to quell the simmer inside while she waited. She flipped on some low music to fill the unsettling silence, and began the hunt for intact binbags. Realised she didn’t even know if she had a broom.

A long time later another message arrived in the midst of the work. Roused from the numb monotony Natalie blinked in surprise, not having expected to hear anything else from him. Or at least nothing literate. But it was lucid, not the chaotic stream of consciousness belonging to a man who’d slipped the chains of reality in search of desperate respite, or flashes of disjointed video she’d definitely rather not see.

Got delayed. Ran into someone. Catching up. Be back later.

She didn’t let herself wonder what sort of company Jay might recognise in the middle of the RLD. Instead she was wearily relieved he wasn’t lost chasing dragons. And it gave her time. Not to finish cleaning, but to decide how she was going to explain any of this. The windows were dark now, spattered not with stars but the smear of the city’s eternal glow. It was already far later than she realised. She only glanced at the phone’s timestamp before she tapped a response.

No problem, she replied. Gives me time to hide the bodies.

[[continued at Medsi]]]]> Lunch Date [Estella Restaurant]]]

Traffic in the city was always jammed, and she had plenty of time to think in the back of the cab. Jay was being held in an office, or in his words, “hell.” Natalie had no idea what kind of consequences awaited, or how much Vellas might know about the surrounding circumstance. Even if he did, military command was unlikely to be yielding just because he was grieving. Jay’s value as a Dominion would likely spare him more than any consideration of his losses at the Amengual’s hands, let alone the Custody’s complicity in it all. Even if she wanted to, she had no power to interfere in his punishment.

An Amengual diplomat at the Garden hadn’t surprised her, though it made her stomach sink. Nothing had been announced officially yet, but all the pieces were there: Zacarías’ presence at the charity ball, Scion Marveet’s interference in Mexico, Jessika Thrice’s continued rise. Natalie kept abreast of the changing politics, but distant too – she had little intention of being a player in that game, despite her grandfather’s hopes, and even less to be used once more as a pawn. The Custody sanctioned even the most heinous of crimes so long as the beast was fed and the facade was maintained. One only had to look at a wealthy Moscovite family like the Vasilievs to see it. The cartels of Mexico, so long as they conformed to Nikolai Brandon’s vision, would be no different. She couldn't shield Jay from that either.

The piano musicbox Emily had gifted her sat in her lap as they idled, cupped lightly inside her hands. She’d been listening to the tune play a while amidst the heavy din of city noise – impatient horns and the start-stop rumble of the engine as they made crawling progress. The window was fogged white with the cold. It was only late afternoon but the sun was already squeezed out empty, shadows chasing the frozen spaces into a gloomy night.

He is a soldier, my darling. Nothing more, nothing less. And he belongs to the Ascendancy. That is all I intend to say on the matter.

If there was one thing she hated, it was when words she didn’t want to hear were true. Those ones had followed a warning she was quite prepared to ignore, but it didn’t change the fact that Edward was right. Jay was a ghost in his own life. Time wouldn’t heal what was broken, only brutalise what was left. She didn’t want to watch that. And alone she wasn’t enough.

She’d never intended to even inform the Channeling Consulate of her plans for Belizna, let alone Brandon’s sly military arm, lest they be crushed before they even started – else worse, be beholden down the line to the whims of a government Natalie didn’t trust. She knew little of Commander Vellas, and that little comprised of things she sometimes wondered if Jay was actually supposed to impart, or realised he did. But there was respect there, and Vellas’s own route to his position had been unconventional at best. It was worth the risk to find out more.

Gaining access to him wouldn’t be easy though, even for a Patron’s granddaughter. Fortunately Natalie was persistent, most especially with sufficient motivation. If she could gain an audience with the Ascendancy himself in order to discover what had happened to Jay after his arrest, she could certainly find the man he trusted to lead his men now Jay was a Dominion among them. 

Right now Vellas would likely be occupied with smoothing over the incident, but it would take time to force her way to his direct line anyway. She tucked the musicbox away and leaned over to pay the bored driver. They’d already been stuck in this spot twenty minutes, and there was a coffee shop nearby. She could walk home from there when she was done.

---

When she eventually did get through to him, Michael gave little away over the call, not least whether he had been surprised to receive it. Reaching out to him was not without risk, and she disliked the notion it was a tentative bridge which might prove dangerous to her down the line. He was a generous and eloquent speaker, though, and Natalie reasoned it suggested he would be amenable to the request she would make of him. Charm and certainty were her tools, though she would use leverage as necessary. And he agreed to the meeting at least, intrigued by the project she described, or else by the woman who moved mountains to speak to him directly in the first place.

The dark fell early this time of year, and the temperature had plummeted noticeably after the sunset. Natalie pulled her coat close as the ding of the bell above the door marked her exit onto the street. She’d heard from Jay since, asking after painkillers, which she knew they didn’t have. It wasn’t hard to sort though; she promised a delivery would be waiting by the time he got back to the apartment. If he was hunting down relief, at least they weren’t detaining him further at the Garden. Her conversation with Vellas hadn’t included mention of her knowing what had happened today; she didn’t call to beg for clemency, and in fact had not mentioned Jay at all. The silence of waiting to hear from him had gnawed in the meantime, but it was probably better not to interfere in that way. Not that it meant she hadn’t wanted to.

Another message arrived soon after.

Going to swing by the RLD. Grabbing something better for my hand. The good stuff.

That one gave her pause. A literal one. Natalie had been doggedly sober since the casino, still bruised by the memory of it, but she understood the lure of a chemical escape all too well. Sometimes it was the only way to unhook, and in the past she’d done stupid things herself in an effort to drown out the noise, so it wasn’t condemnation that pressed a heaviness in her chest. If the relief he sought was for pain, she doubted he was actually talking about his hand. Or not just. She only swallowed the sting.

Then she almost dropped the fucking wallet as a finger reached over to press down the screen. The pale glow lit a woman’s face hovering above, amused eyes shining under a short slash of inky hair.

“Fuck, Toma,” Natalie muttered, heart still racing. The woman only chuckled and swiped the screen downwards.

“So distracted, dear one. I did send you a message.”

And sure enough it was there unread in the silenced notification bar, amongst several others waiting attention: just a pair of emoji eyes.

Natalie only rolled her own. She hadn’t seen Toma since before Oscar fetched her to London, though there had been the odd suggestive meme concerning her new living arrangements. Enough for Natalie to know the contract for her “protection” must still stand, but apparently only requiring a low maintenance touch of nosiness. Which begged the question of her unsolicited appearance now, in the middle of the darkened street.

Toma had a way of looking at people like they were an interesting book she was reading, curious to turn the page, but ultimately unaffected by the ending. “What have you been up to?” She mused it in a singsong way, mostly to herself as her gaze drank up and down, but Natalie felt the cooling race of her pulse begin to freeze as the shock faded and her mind whirred instead. Toma’s lips curled a small smile, as though reading her mind, and she added: “You aren’t going to like this.”

---

The apartment was totalled.

Natalie stood by the smashed up piano, once a stately Bösendorfer, now a criss-cross of splintered wood and spilled ivory keys. Crockery and glass spread rivers of sharp shards across the floor. Cupboards were yanked loose off their frames with their innards ripped free. Bedsheets shredded, mattress split. Mirrors cracked and fallen. Toma watched her reaction from the slashed up sofa, arms comfortably outstretched as she nestled in its bare bones and fluffy innards. The apartment had never been a home, not truly, but the devastation nonetheless felt like a violation. Natalie’s emotions were quiet as she smothered the sick feeling of vulnerability rising inside. She touched the healed scars on the inside of her wrists, just for a moment.

“You didn’t think so stop them, Toma?”

The woman shrugged. “I protect people, not things. And here you are, safe and well, dear Natalie. I wanted to tell you that they didn’t take anything. Didn’t leave anything either, beyond the obvious message. Nor did they intend to wait for you.”

“My father, then?” The highrise was expensive and state-of-the-art security conscious, the locks specifically coded. Beyond the Northbrooks themselves only Jay had access. Alistair had circumvented it once though, somehow leaving the holo for her to find after the ball. His lessons could be cruel but she couldn’t think of a reason for this one. The more obvious answer was the one she was less willing to consider: DeGarmo. The questions he warned her away from asking and she had begun asking anyway. He’d told her he had information for her before he disappeared. And now this.

“I don’t know yet. Your little visitors won’t be coming back, though.” Toma gave a toothy grin which Natalie looked away from. Her voice was as pleased as a purr, and she really didn’t want to know why.

“Okay,” she said instead, trying to steady herself. Toma was at her side then, sleek and soundless as a cat despite the debris littering the floor. She reached for Natalie’s hand, ignoring the brief tremor Natalie suppressed with a flinch for the contact. A pendant and chain hung from her fingers, and she coiled it in Natalie’s palm, closing her fingers overtop. Her head titled, but she didn’t offer comfort. Instead she left.

Natalie glanced at the trinket, but only for a moment before she let it fall in her coat pocket. She ran her hands over her face, hardened herself inside. “Fuck.” The word steeled her. Purpose replaced fear. Jay couldn’t come back to this, she realised. She knew he’d find some way to blame himself – like his very presence was the cause of disaster around him, and not the one thing she was desperate to keep. She could tell him not to come here but didn’t trust him to pick up his messages, or worse to stupidly think she was kicking him out in the midst of his spiral. And she had no idea what state he’d even be in when he stumbled through the door. If he stumbled through the door tonight. Last time he disappeared for days.

She let the coat slide down her arms and draped it over on the ruined sofa, which at least seemed free of glass. Then she rolled her sleeves and wondered where to even begin the salvage. It seemed pointless, it was pointless, but she needed something to do. A way to quell the simmer inside while she waited. She flipped on some low music to fill the unsettling silence, and began the hunt for intact binbags. Realised she didn’t even know if she had a broom.

A long time later another message arrived in the midst of the work. Roused from the numb monotony Natalie blinked in surprise, not having expected to hear anything else from him. Or at least nothing literate. But it was lucid, not the chaotic stream of consciousness belonging to a man who’d slipped the chains of reality in search of desperate respite, or flashes of disjointed video she’d definitely rather not see.

Got delayed. Ran into someone. Catching up. Be back later.

She didn’t let herself wonder what sort of company Jay might recognise in the middle of the RLD. Instead she was wearily relieved he wasn’t lost chasing dragons. And it gave her time. Not to finish cleaning, but to decide how she was going to explain any of this. The windows were dark now, spattered not with stars but the smear of the city’s eternal glow. It was already far later than she realised. She only glanced at the phone’s timestamp before she tapped a response.

No problem, she replied. Gives me time to hide the bodies.

[[continued at Medsi]]]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1859.html Fri, 11 Jul 2025 23:30:16 +0000 Anna]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1859.html
Anna had just finished cleaning when she got a text from Cade.

Hey! Was wondering if you had time to help me look for an apartment? Got a few options but want some company. I hate looking by myself.

Anna smiled at that. She was glad he was staying and not just because she was crushing on him bad. It seemed like he needed a new start, and moving to Moscow would be good for that. An apartment meant he had decided to stay. She thought Nox had offered him a job. Maybe he had accepted.

Sure thing! Let me know when and where and I'll be there! She responded.

Anna was still in her pajamas so she got dressed and waited for a response from Cade.  When she got a place to go, she left, grabbed a cab and headed out.]]>
Anna had just finished cleaning when she got a text from Cade.

Hey! Was wondering if you had time to help me look for an apartment? Got a few options but want some company. I hate looking by myself.

Anna smiled at that. She was glad he was staying and not just because she was crushing on him bad. It seemed like he needed a new start, and moving to Moscow would be good for that. An apartment meant he had decided to stay. She thought Nox had offered him a job. Maybe he had accepted.

Sure thing! Let me know when and where and I'll be there! She responded.

Anna was still in her pajamas so she got dressed and waited for a response from Cade.  When she got a place to go, she left, grabbed a cab and headed out.]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1791.html Thu, 10 Apr 2025 22:15:58 +0000 Jay Carpenter]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1791.html We dont want to anger morven" ))


Jay said it again before she could even ask. “I’m fine.”

He always said it first—cutting her off at the pass, like it was a script they both memorized. But Natalie never looked at him with pity. Not once. Her gaze was something else entirely. Grim determination. Like she believed if she stared hard enough, if she willed it strongly enough, she could patch the fractures together and force him back into sanity.

"I’m not insane", he told himself, looking in the bathroom mirror. "Just had a moment."

"A moment? Hell, Rasputin had a moment. What you had was Chernobyl with a side of sarin gas."

"It wasn’t a meltdown", he argued with himself. "Just... a weak spot. Brittle. Tape it up. Duct tape. Good as new." He grimaced as the razor knicked a chunk out of his jaw. 

"Yeah? All the duct tape in the world won’t glue back together what you broke, dude."

"Yeah, well—fuck you."

"Fuck you."

He tapped the razor against the edge of the sink. Too hard. The plastic handle snapped and the blade went skittering across the tile with a sound like teeth breaking.

He gripped the counter. Hung his head. Breathed deep. Tried to shut the screaming part of his brain down—the part that ran reruns of the worst nights on full volume.

This was how mornings went now. Cold. Regimented. Fractured. A battle before the sun even cleared the horizon.

In the kitchen, he fastened his uniform jacket between bites of toast and mouthfuls of coffee. He eyed the bourbon bottle on the top shelf and, for a second, actually pictured it. A splash in the mug. Liquid courage. Liquid forgetfulness. 

But no. Not today. Not yet.

“I’ll be at the Garden today,” he said when Natalie entered. She was barefoot, wrapped in a robe she never seemed to realize made her look like home.

He hadn’t left since Jared’s wedding. Just stayed. Moved in like fog. They hadn’t talked about it, hadn’t needed to. She never asked questions, and he never offered more than the daily itinerary—where he was headed, what he thought he’d do. A performance of normalcy, and she never called him out on how much it all smelled like bullshit.

Adrian had gone quiet after their last encounter. Eerily quiet. Jay told himself that meant he’d finally given up. Whatever fantasy he’d been entertaining, whatever plan had involved Jay being part of it. So far, no search parties. No demands. Not even a text.

Until they noticed he wasn’t showing up for that particular duty, he was going to do exactly what he wanted. Even if it wasn’t anything at all.

“Supposed to meet some ambassador or diplomat or somebody,” he muttered, rinsing his mug and leaving it in the sink like a breadcrumb trail back to his version of stability.

He passed her on the way out. “Talk to you later. Be good.”

And then, soft, almost automatic, he kissed her cheek.

Like he was still the man she thought he was.]]> We dont want to anger morven" ))


Jay said it again before she could even ask. “I’m fine.”

He always said it first—cutting her off at the pass, like it was a script they both memorized. But Natalie never looked at him with pity. Not once. Her gaze was something else entirely. Grim determination. Like she believed if she stared hard enough, if she willed it strongly enough, she could patch the fractures together and force him back into sanity.

"I’m not insane", he told himself, looking in the bathroom mirror. "Just had a moment."

"A moment? Hell, Rasputin had a moment. What you had was Chernobyl with a side of sarin gas."

"It wasn’t a meltdown", he argued with himself. "Just... a weak spot. Brittle. Tape it up. Duct tape. Good as new." He grimaced as the razor knicked a chunk out of his jaw. 

"Yeah? All the duct tape in the world won’t glue back together what you broke, dude."

"Yeah, well—fuck you."

"Fuck you."

He tapped the razor against the edge of the sink. Too hard. The plastic handle snapped and the blade went skittering across the tile with a sound like teeth breaking.

He gripped the counter. Hung his head. Breathed deep. Tried to shut the screaming part of his brain down—the part that ran reruns of the worst nights on full volume.

This was how mornings went now. Cold. Regimented. Fractured. A battle before the sun even cleared the horizon.

In the kitchen, he fastened his uniform jacket between bites of toast and mouthfuls of coffee. He eyed the bourbon bottle on the top shelf and, for a second, actually pictured it. A splash in the mug. Liquid courage. Liquid forgetfulness. 

But no. Not today. Not yet.

“I’ll be at the Garden today,” he said when Natalie entered. She was barefoot, wrapped in a robe she never seemed to realize made her look like home.

He hadn’t left since Jared’s wedding. Just stayed. Moved in like fog. They hadn’t talked about it, hadn’t needed to. She never asked questions, and he never offered more than the daily itinerary—where he was headed, what he thought he’d do. A performance of normalcy, and she never called him out on how much it all smelled like bullshit.

Adrian had gone quiet after their last encounter. Eerily quiet. Jay told himself that meant he’d finally given up. Whatever fantasy he’d been entertaining, whatever plan had involved Jay being part of it. So far, no search parties. No demands. Not even a text.

Until they noticed he wasn’t showing up for that particular duty, he was going to do exactly what he wanted. Even if it wasn’t anything at all.

“Supposed to meet some ambassador or diplomat or somebody,” he muttered, rinsing his mug and leaving it in the sink like a breadcrumb trail back to his version of stability.

He passed her on the way out. “Talk to you later. Be good.”

And then, soft, almost automatic, he kissed her cheek.

Like he was still the man she thought he was.]]>