[[Continued from Don't Belong Here, at Almaz]]

His head was pounding. A groan, and Jay snatched a pillow to smother his own face. The room couldn’t be dark enough, he thought, wincing at the curtains. There was some button somewhere that shadowed the glass behind them, but fuck if he knew where to find it. So he buried his face in the pillow and drifted. The next time he opened his eyes, the wish had come true. It was coffin-dark. A good solid coffin like the kind his brothers and sisters were shipped home in. Sealed up. Peaceful.

He waved his arm over the side-table. The clink of bottles sang their song in return. Eventually, he found one that sounded duller than the rest and put it to his lips. A tangy liquid passed his tongue. The fuck? he pulled it back to study the label. The hell did this come from? He hadn’t tasted Pimm’s since he was a teenager. Got wasted on it at 16 at a barn party. It looked like blood when it came back up, he remembered. Freaked a lot of them out at first.

So at some point in the last, uhh, however long it had been, he found a bottle of Pimm’s? After some flopping to the edge of the mattress, he stared, realizing all the empty bottles were from the same fruity-based gin. Now that, uhh, one way to party, he supposed, and pinched his eyes shut, trying to remember.

He remembered lots of spinning. After leaving Almaz, every time he closed his eyes, it felt like riding a tilt-a-whirl while tripping on PCP. Which meant he kept his eyes open and fixed dead ahead. On whatever. Seven tried to make him go to a doctor. But that was definitely passed over in exchange for finding a real strip-club. Then the awkward conversation about which gender of dancers he preferred. Meaning, there were plenty of guys who pulled off some looks better than others. Including Seven. He vaguely remembered them talking about shirts? Not quite what exactly. But it had been fascinating and hilarious at the time. But he opted for the regular old fashioned traditional type of strip club. Pretty sure. And rolling to the side, he realized why. There it was, a bit of black lace left on a pillow. Caught? Bought? Definitely something. Had the girl that wore it been there? Or did he just come away with a trophy? Creepy.

He looked down at himself then. Yep. Buck ass naked. Seemed about right. Not so much as a sheet in sight. Kicked off or tore off, he wasn’t sure. But the only thing that was sore was his head. So most likely had been the girl. He grumbled and sat up, rubbing his scalp. Not like it was the first time there were holes punched through bad memories. Unlikely to be the last. Probably didn’t do anything weird. Just normal stuff. Right?

The door was shut. The window dark. Not from the button but because it was fucking night. Probably not the same night, he assumed, and padded away to find the bathroom. The second he flipped on the light, he regretted it. But the mirror powered up enough to display the date and reflect a piss-poor image of a man back at him.

He stared at the display. Two days. It’d been two days since stirring out of the coma of the last binger. He’d gone downstairs for food. Met a Viking dude. Pounded his fist on Nox’s face at Almaz. At least his hand didn’t hurt anymore. Naked girls. Actually, he rather wished he remembered more of the naked girls. Then… nothing. Except apparently Pimm’s. Where the hell did the Pimm’s come from?

He powered up the shower and gave up trying to remember.

The wallet was on the floor, kicked almost under the furniture. He regretted bending down to get it. The spinning wanted to return, and he opted to fall into a chair to hold him while scanning it for evidence of his life the past few days.

There were pictures. Ones that probably felt steamy hot at the time but now made him cringe. Seven was in some of them. Two girls he didn’t recognize. Deleted those immediately. The messages weren’t much better.

Then he found one near the bottom of the queue.
”Pancakes” it read. The time stamp from the morning before. A pin on a map.

Goddammit. He opened the thread. Almost not able to look.
A fucking string of incoherent responses. From video loops of funny breakfast moments. To a picture of his bloody hand. To a mention of making Cayli chocolate chip pancakes. That hurt. They scrolled a long time.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The hangover flopping his stomach sick.
I am so sorry. I was fucking drunk out of my mind, he sent the first coherent message in return. I would kill for pancakes right now. Please come. After hitting send, he regretted the particular phrase. Since she’d seen him actually kill people. Probably bad choice of words there.

He almost hated to see what the rest of the suite looked like. Some time later, towel wrapped around his hips, he hoped some snacks had been left behind with the bottles. And that Natalie would answer fast.

The suite was the same one in Adrian Kane’s hotel. It was shockingly clean. Didn’t look anything like the bedroom. A plate of fruit and pastries waited on a table. Along with a bottle of tylenol and salt tabs. Had housekeeping been in while he was passed out? Also kind of creepy, but whatever. He shrugged and opted to swallow a handful of pills before anything else.

“Feeling better?” a voice asked.

The bottle flew out of his hand like an erupting white volcano. He jumped and turned.

[[ anyone is welcome to join. I'll let you deal with timelines I know mine  ]]


Nox sat in his former room spraying Lily with water to clean the dust from her petals and leaves. Probably was fine, but he wanted a mundane task to keep him busy. His normal distraction when he was nervous wasn’t there — nor had he heard from him in a while. He tried not to think about Raffe, but it was hard not to. ”I hope he’s okay.” Nox said to his flower.

A voice in the back of his head said. Maybe you should get used to wondering. He’s done with you anyway. That was his father speaking. He heard the sneer in his voice and the hatred of what he’d become. His father would have hated him dancing at Kallisti. It was a good thing he was dead.

Nox shook his hands to shake out the anxiety. Center of attention — that wasn’t hard. Center of the spot light — that’s different. He’d danced once for people and it went well. A second time should be no different. Except he had invited people. And Raffe wasn’t there. There was no pretending he was dancing just for him. Though he knew he’d do that, anyway. That’s where his courage came from. And he was okay with that.

The lounge was busy, the show itself was still setting up and he’d made his final preparations for the illusions and had to get into his first costume.

Mandy and Mae had fun putting together the greek roaring 20s outfit he wore now. The hat was his favorite bit — it neatly covered the flaming blue hair he now wore — sans the glitter the girls wanted to throw about his person. I think not!

Nox smiled at his reflection. The toga like trousers would be removed for the second act in lieu of the shorter version that would be more prominent in the greek gods era. It was a classy mobster suit if you were a Greek god mobster. He rather liked the look. The girls loved it. Juls’ Zeus costume for the first act was beautify the white and golds were perfect.

Now he only had to wait for show time. Yeah, he wasn’t nervous. He kept telling himself that.

[[ I'm done with my speed posting.  I'll wait for a good bit if ya'll need to finish something up and want to join let me know and I can hold off.  I'm not in a rush -- but Nox is, but we have other things to do write to entertain the muse. ]]

This is a link to cool fan-art map of the Age of Legends. I am really intrigued. Could we use this for the basis of anything? Loose inspiration?

https://www.deviantart.com/kemonokage/ar...-714338566

So Nox sent out a bunch of texts and I don't want to make alot of tags in the thread so I'm gonna do it in one big thread and invite everyone with a free PC if you want to meet the other PCs.  He sent it out to all his friends.

It would be a couple days after Nox and Jay fought (for those with timelines that matter)

Nox is putting on a show (his second).  I'll start a thread in a few days and post it in here.  But anyone is welcome to join in. Mix and mingle!

*edited* Post -> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1433.html

[[ continued from url ]]

The tears ended. No one came near him or interrupted him. He left the club without saying anything to anyone.

The train station where he kept Lily wasn’t far away and grabbed his small back and the Lotus and slipped into the tunnels to find a dark place to curl up and die.

He didn’t go far, he needed signal. His face was on fire. His body numb from everything else. If he thought about it too hard the horde rose up and filled the pain with the need for more. He wanted to feel numb.

Nox needed to hear Raffe’s voice even if he wasn’t speaking to him. But he didn’t dare call. Nox walked into the emptiness of the tunnels. Water dripping in the distance. No scratching to be heard.

He found a cranny in the wall and wove a ball of light and let it shine down on Lily. She’d need a good walk for real light, but it would do for now. He unrolled his bedroll and curled up in it and started typing a string of texts to Raffe (@"Raffe")

I know I said space and time.
Full disclosure.
I ran into Jay at the Almaz.
We fought — literally. It ended badly.
I’ll tell you about it all if we get through this.

Nox sighed and sent a final text.

Lily misses you.


He set the wallet down and tried to sleep.  His nightmares awaited.

Moscow twinkled like a fat diamond in a jewellery box.

Visha was dressed as dark as the night sky, from the tips of her boots to the high collar about her throat. Gloves smoothed her from hands to elbow, the palms and fingers embedded with haptics. She had always been particularly sensitive to touch, and had never enjoyed the obstruction. As a child she had often complained it felt like being blindfolded, much to the bemusement of her minders. At least until her tantrums solved the issue with a gift-wrapped solution. In those days her tears had been more dangerous than her touch. These days it was all one and the same.

The cityscape was a delectable playground. Mostly she avoided the streets and people with a predator’s dedication to invisibility, testing the limits of instincts and abilities she didn’t even understand she had. The burning pump of muscles, her racing heart, the coil and leap that felt like flying. She climbed with unusual ease. Spooled into shadows like she’d been born in them.

Tonight her path took her to the street of a lavish storefront. Her favourite one. Silk and velvet and cashmere draped the elegant mannequins in front. She’d been here before. Several times actually, though she kept her visits spaced apart. She was fairly certain Ephraim would clean up any necessary messes, though she would rather he and Paragon remained ignorant to her night-time escapades for as long as possible. The freedom made her dizzy and euphoric and she didn’t want to lose it.

Visha scaled the wall with ease to wait, tucked her legs in close, and found a perch to peer down from. She knew the security routines by rote by now.

Raffe’s stories buzzed around in her mind. She watched intently, rested her chin in her arms, and smiled.

When the last employee left, Visha dropped down silently.

[[This thread is open. She will be stealing some new threads and heading to Kallisti. After that I plan to cause this news headline (doesn't matter which club she ends up at)]]

Patient Record: VIṢAKANYĀ

Medical History: [REDACTED]

DNA Profile: [REDACTED]

Additional Notes: EXERCISE CAUTION. NITRILE GLOVES AND FACE SHIELD RECOMMENDED. ANITVENOM REFERENCE 2291981.

Last night several ambulances were reportedly called to a downtown Moscow club following reports of mass hysteria. Fifteen people were taken to hospital, with one in critical condition. Custody police suspect involvement of the illegal drug ‘P’ which is known to invoke a dangerous hallucinatory state in users. No drugs were found on the scene.

The club remains closed pending further investigation.