"Have you read my proposal?" Sage asked over the phone on one of the rare occasions he actually called Nox to discuss whatever it was. Probably because it was faster for Nox to talk than it was for Sage to communicate.

"I did, not that I understood much." 

Sage chuckled over the line. "Sounds about right. Basically it's the legal stuff that'll help you sell the idea."

Nox nodded not that Sage could see it. "I knew that much I don't need to understand it as long as you do."

Sage laughed. "The lawyers do and that's what matters. I laid out the business plan in layman's terms. So you could understand them.  Ana and Emily both have both documents too. So everyone's on the same page."

Nox nodded again flicking his eyes to the left to change the song streaming into his ear bud. Ashton's voice was a godsend when it came to interacting with people who didn't know him. At the club none of the regulars even really noticed that he was just a little off. They didn't see it, didn't know any better. But the crew knew. They would wince when Nox said something in a wrong tone. He was still getting used to it all, but the normies didn't know anything was wrong, even when he pretened to be threatening someone with a weave of air. Bruno was always ready to swoop in should there be trouble, but Nox's reputation preceeded him in Kallisti. He hadn't been back to the Alamz. There really was no point.

The song switched to the normal happy and content to something a bit more somber and business like -- not completely an emotion that Nox had displayed before, but he knew how to be serious. But even the sarcasm was tight and bitter when he remembered to play to his strengths. Everything was just wrong. Nothing felt right. The world was empty and even now he missed Lily. He missed the warmth of her body against his chest. He missed her babbling, but this was a business meeting and while Ana and Emily probably would have dotted on Lily, that was the exact reason he didn't bring her. This was important to him. He needed help and he couldn't do it alone. Money aside, he knew nothing of running a business or even if the plan was doable. But he had to do something!

They were meeting at an upscale cafe across town. Nox would have preferred his favorite, but this was business and there were better places with more privacy than that so he'd let Sage make all the arrangements. As usual.

It was cozy and warm when Nox arrived first.  He took a table in the far corner his back to the kitchen so he could keep an eye on the front door. He ordered black coffee for himself and a fancy coffees one  with oat milk and the other with whatever they usually made it with and carmel for Ana and Emily. Sage had given him Emily's order and Nox wondered if all rich people drank the same things.  When they all arrived at his table the Caramel macchiatos smelled way too fucking sweet and Nox reached for the power to push the scents away but the power was no where to be found and the stabbing pain of loss ripped through the song that played in his ear.  

Nox took deep breathes calming himself as he bent over his black cup of coffee with his good hand pressing against his temple trying to right his world again.

Ricky had stayed for dinner and left when his clothes were done. He thanked Liv and left. Marta headed back upstairs and entered Elyse’s room when tiredness set in. She didn’t even set up her air mattress. She just fell asleep on Elyse’s bed. Sleep was short lived, however. 

The nightmares were always the same, even if she didn’t have them as frequently. They started with her mom and dad getting killed and moved to the brothel. The two things she had no desire to relive played through her mind.  Marta woke up, knowing sleep would elude her for most of the night now. She checked the time. Elyse would be back soon. 

Marta got up and moved to the desk and began to doodle. It wasn’t drawing like usual - she just made shapes and what not. She had no focus. The door opened and Elyse came in. Marta looked at her tiredly. [

”You okay?” Elyse asked. Her scent was weird. It still had a depressed air, but was tempered. 

”Nightmares,” Marta responded, her voice flat. 

”You want to talk about it?”

”Doesn’t really matter. Same ones I always have,” Marta didn’t look up as she said it, feeling guilty at the outburst. 

Elyse didn’t respond with words. She just put a comforting hand on Marta’s shoulder before getting changed. The truth was, Marta did want to talk about it because she didn’t feel scared or sad. She just felt angry. It was an odd feeling especially since the wolf was no longer latching on to it.

Marta stood as Elyse finished changing out of her work clothes. ”Elyse,” she said. Elyse looked at her, and Marta could see the care in her eyes. ”Why…why are people like that? Why do they hurt people? Why did he kill them and sell me? What did I do to deserve this?” Each question caused Marta’s volume to rise as the anger she had suppressed began to come out in droves. Her psychologist had told her to let it out. She hadn’t understood why Marta couldn’t at the time. and why the fuck can’t I do anything about it!”

It was a word that Marta had never used before. It even surprised her that she said it. Hot tears were streaming down her face, but even now she felt better, even if she felt she was now in trouble. 

Elyse didn’t pay attention to her swear. She just knelt down when wrapped Marta in a hug. ”Its okay to be angry. I’m sorry, but I don’t have answers for you. Only that there are very terrible people in this world.” Elyse let go and took Marta’s face in her hands. ”There are good people too - Ricky, Hayden, your friends, me - all here for you and to help.” 

Elyse gave her an encouraging smile. Marta didn’t return it when she asked. ”Elyse, why have you been so sad…why did you…” Marta didn’t finish. She knew what Elyse had considered doing. And maybe it wasn’t appropriate to ask, but she had to.

Tatyana looked at herself in the mirror, and even as she smiled, she felt a twinge of sadness. It had been a long time since she hadn't seen at least some layer of dirt on her face.  Her hair was braided and newly trimmed - by a professional no less, and the last time she had looked at herself, she had been more gaunt than she was now.  A couple days of regular eating had brought some life back to her. Even her clothing was near - she wore a nice pair of black slacks and a light blue button up blouse.  She hadn't dressed like this in a long time it reminded her of when her dad was still around and it felt like a lifetime ago.

The change was courtesy of Zeke, who had decided for some reason to take her to a club.  Tatyana had asked no more, and Zeke hadn't offered more, but he had told her where to go and when to go there.  At his insistence, she was given new clothing fit for the location, was instructed to get a new hair cut, and to bathe appropriately.  The clothing felt odd - felt clean.  She felt clean.  She also felt pretty. It had been a long time since she had even wondered at whether or not she was attractive, but as she gazed in the mirror she could see it. Appearance had never been a big thing for her, but for some reason she now appreciated it, even if she wouldn't flaunt it.

Tatyana left the bathroom and headed out heading to the location that Zeke had given her.  She found a line outside of the club and a bouncer was letting people in or denying entry. Inwardly she was grateful.  This wasn't Nebasa's Gate nor was it any club owned by the Vasilievs.  She waited in line until she got to the bouncer. He stopped her.

"My name is Tatyana - I'm supposed to meet Zeke here," another instruction from Zeke.

The bouncer looked at a list and then nodded, allowing her entry into the club. She entered to find lavishly decorated bar. This was where she was told to meet Zeke.  Looking around see she a descending staircase.  Patrons met with each other and talked.  Tatyana was familiar enough to know that in some cases, business was being conducted.  That business was one of hers.  A few patrons looked at her, some appearing to question her appearance here and others appearing to check her out.  It confirmed to her that she was looking attractive now.  Tatyana didn't see Zeke, so she went up to the bar and sat at a place where she could see the entrance. She would wait for Zeke to arrive.

So question for you all:

Do the forums need more sub-boards? The general moscow board gets so busy with a lot of threads. Do we need to make location-specific boards? Or rearrange in another way? 

Thoughts? Ideas?

Continued from: Sight Seeing

The word ready sat well on Anton. Not with the bravado of a soldier marching to battle, nor the naive eagerness of a boy chasing ghosts, but with the gravity of a man who had been waiting—perhaps unknowingly—for a door to be opened.

Theron inclined his head, the faintest smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Then let us pass from shadow into knowing.”

He turned, his cloak catching the light of the Chamber of Echoes as he stepped away from the circular nexus. Behind them, the chamber returned to its quiet heartbeat—the murmuring walls swallowing silence as reverently as they had once devoured sound. The others would linger or depart as they were called, but Theron’s stride was already aligned with a deeper current, and he knew Anton would follow.

They moved through the Sanctuary’s inner halls, architecture designed to humble. Vaulted arches bowed like monks in prayer. Glass lanterns suspended from the ceiling flickered with pale violet flame—ethereal, smokeless. The floor beneath them bore the sigils of the Ascendancy in delicate embossing, visible only when the light passed over it just so. Theron walked them not with haste, but with ceremonial pace, as if the very act of traversing this distance was a rite of passage.

At last, they arrived at the threshold of the Sanctum of Reflection. The air here was different. Quieter. Heavy, not with oppression, but with the weight of knowledge. The room opened like a cathedral turned inward. Shelves climbed the walls in spirals, packed tight with scrolls, books, and illuminated manuscripts that whispered in languages long buried. The scent of parchment and wax was as sacred here as incense.

In the center of the space, pools of light spilled from reading lamps perched like watchful sentinels above clusters of carved desks. Cushioned alcoves built into the walls offered solitude to those who preferred to study in silence, while the centerpiece—a great circular window of stained glass—cast shifting patterns of aquamarine, vermilion, and gold upon the marble floor. It was the Ascendancy, rendered in glass: arms outstretched, cloaked in threads of light, stepping between worlds.

Theron stopped just within the chamber, allowing the moment to breathe. “This is where the mind prepares for what the soul already knows,” he said softly, his voice echoing in the hushed reverence of the space.

“The Sanctum of Reflection is not only a library. One does not come here simply to learn, but to remember. The Veil keeps many truths hidden—but sometimes, the right words, spoken at the right time, can part it like silk.”

His gaze moved across the room to a figure seated beneath the stained glass—half-shrouded in shadow, half-painted in gold. A man surrounded by open books and drifting dust motes, moving as though time moved differently around him. Perhaps it did.

“Lucien Octavius,” Theron intoned, “is our librarian, keeper of the Celestial Codex, and chronicler of those whose questions deserve better answers. Such as yours,” he paused to lay a reassuring hand on Anton's shoulder before guiding them within.

He stepped aside now, as if Anton’s approach was the next act in a quiet ritual. “Lucien has an unusual memory for the arcane and the mythic. He may know of others like you, or of those long forgotten. I suspect he will be… intrigued.”

With that, Theron allowed the moment to settle into silence again—one hand resting loosely behind his back, the other at his side, patient as ever. He was watching now—not just Anton, but the Veil itself. It had brought the man this far.

The Carnival had a rhythm, a pulse that thrummed beneath the gaudy lights and peeling paint. It was a living, breathing beast, and Sámiel was its dark heart. His horror show was the stuff of whispered legends, a macabre dance that left audiences both terrified and enthralled. But tonight, as he returned after a three-day absence, the beast felt... off.

His boots crunched against the gravel, the familiar path leading him to the cluster of trailers that housed the Pekelniak family. These weren't the sleek, polished RVs of the well-to-do, but battered, weather-worn boxes on wheels, their exteriors adorned with trinkets and talismans meant to ward off whatever spirits might be lurking. The scent of fried onions and stale beer hung in the air, a testament to meals shared and stories told.

Sámiel stood out here, a peacock among crows. His attire was a deliberate affront to convention: a pleather jacket in a shade of crimson that bordered on obscene, a ruffled shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at scandal, and trousers so tight they seemed painted on. From a choker on his throat dangled a silver knife charm. His dark hair was a wild mane, streaked with unwashed greasy strands that caught the dim light, and his eyes— those eyes—were kohl-rimmed windows to a soul that reveled in the delicious discomfort of others.

He approached the largest of the trailers, its door slightly ajar, revealing the warm glow within. Stepping inside, he was met with a tableau of familial chaos.

"Look what the cat dragged in," sneered Tereza, his older sister, from her perch by the tiny stove. Her arms were crossed, flour dusting her hands from the dough she’d been kneading. Her face, lined beyond her years, bore the perpetual scowl of someone who'd long given up on pleasantries.

"Missed me, did you?” Sámiel drawled, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Hardly," she shot back. "But your audience did. Three nights without your little freak show. People talk."

"Let them," he replied, unperturbed. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

From the corner, a soft chuckle emerged. Josef, their father, lounged in a threadbare armchair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyes, milky with age and too much homemade liquor, regarded Sámiel with a mix of amusement and something darker.

"You always did have a flair for the dramatic," Josef rasped. "But even the best performers know not to keep the crowd waiting too long."

Sámiel inclined his head, acknowledging the rebuke. "Noted, dear father.”

A sudden movement drew his attention to the small figure darting toward him. Aneta, his niece, no more than six, with wild curls and eyes too big for her face, latched onto his leg.

"Uncle Sámiel! Did you bring me something spooky?" she demanded, her grin missing a front tooth.

He laughed, a genuine sound that seemed almost out of place. "Always, little one." From his jacket pocket, he produced a small, intricately carved wooden spider. "This is Aragog. He'll keep the nightmares at bay.”

Aneta took the token with reverence, her eyes wide. "Thank you!"

Tereza huffed, wiping her hands on her apron. "As if she needs more reasons to be scared."

Sámiel's grin widened. "Fear is a gift, dear sister. It reminds us we're alive. Relish it, while you can.”

The door creaked open again, admitting Marek, his younger brother. Sweat slicked his brow, evidence of a long day's labor setting up tents and repairing rigging.

“I saw you walking in,” Marek said, not unkindly. "Vas family’s in a tizzy. Roza and Esper took off."

Sámiel's interest piqued. The Vas sisters were... intriguing. "Ran away, did they?”

Marek nodded. "Few nights ago. No word since. Their folks are tight-lipped, but you can see the worry."

"And the others?”

"Some say good riddance. Less competition. Others are concerned. We look after our own, mostly."

Sámiel licked his top lip with a swipe of a pierced tongue, a habit when he was deep in thought, and clicked the barbell against his teeth. The Carnival was a web of alliances and rivalries, a delicate balance of camaraderie and competition. The disappearance of the Vas sisters tipped that balance.

"Perhaps I'll take a stroll,” he mused aloud. "See what the night has to offer.”

Josef's gaze sharpened. "Don't go stirring the pot, boy."

Sámiel met his father's eyes, a devilish glint in his own. "Who, me? I dream of nothing less.”

Starting this thread for a Spoiler-discussion of Season 3 of the show. So don't read any further unless you want spoilers. 








Ye be warned.

[[OoC: I’m having a pretty rough day and writing Elyse and Anna is very therapeutic for me. Anyone can jump in if you’d be there - no worries if not - just be kind - therapy writing here :-) ]]

Elyse was getting dressed for her set on stage. She was back to work now and had missed quite a bit. People at Kallisti had been very supportive during her tough times. Family - they said. It reinforced everything Sage, Hayden, and Anna had told her about family. They had accepted her here. For no other reason than she was a fellow employee. That felt nice. It was what she needed now. She had only started taking her medications recently but they were already working. That made her smile at least - until the inevitable mood swing hit. Her therapist had warned her that mood swings, decreased libido, and the thoughts of suicide were possible side effects. The first two would go away as she got used to the meds. She was told to contact a doctor immediately if the last came into existence. Mood swings and decreased libido were present, and, thankfully, she wasn’t experiencing the last one. 

Anna was there being the stalwart friend she was. ”You doing okay? Ready?”

Elyse nodded, checking her wallet and seeing that Marta was going to stay with her tonight. That helped too. She also said she had something important and good to talk about. Elyse responded by telling her she looked forward to hearing it. ”Yeah - I’m okay. Very nervous though. Not sure I can do this.”

Elyse’s head was moved as Anna took her face in her hands, bringing Elyse’s eyes to meet hers. ”You got this, Elyse. Want me to come out with you?”

Elyse blinked. ”Our dance isn’t ready yet…”

”Not our dance,” Anna interrupted. ”Your dance - with me backing you up. Same thing you did during rehearsal - but you have me there with you.”

Elyse just looked at Anna for awhile. She wasn’t sure what Anna had planned, and usually a change like this would get her nerves going, but this time she felt strangely calm and intrigued. ”Go on…” Elyse prompted, curious at what Anna was thinking.