04-08-2020, 01:14 AM
Armande wandered off, and in short order, Nik found himself pulled to the dance floor. He didn’t care who went with him, but Nox made for a good wing-man in a tall, dark, smoldering kind of way even if he was missing an arm. He wondered why the man didn’t get a prosthetic. There were incredible advances in bioneuralmechanical interfaces. At least it would balance him out a little.
Nikolai was a conservative dancer. He didn’t draw attention particularly. Nox, on the other hand, moved effortlessly. Rhythm and motion came as easy as breathing, and Nik found himself staying near the man simply because he hoped it would make him look a little bit better just to share the company. Sweat slicked his brow soon, but he let himself fall into the fun of simply moving around. When the sensation of channelers broke the spell, his gaze followed the line of sight just to watch the outcome. How long he waited alone, yearning for someone else like himself to share in the experience. He stumbled dangerous in those early years: prodding and testing with grave delicacy. The first time he fell sick was on a train car traveling from Bologna to Rome. He hit on a blonde woman with such brazen forwardness all these years later he was embarrassed at the behavior. Then, for almost decades, nothing. Nobody. Armande knew, but they met after Nikolai could control it. Nik was almost 40 by then. At 65 years old, he knew he looked half that age, and he had to wonder what the future held for everyone.
His sexuality was hetero-oriented, but he didn’t not dance with Nox, or anyone else for that matter. It was a oneness that wasn’t unlike the pull of the power. When the presence of a channeler emerged from Nox, Nikolai smiled, imagining the luck. He drew upon the power himself, just a small amount, and hid the glow of a light in the hook of his palm. Before anything else could happen, some young man thundered into the group, splitting them apart. The friend Nox mentioned.
The dancing slowed, but he didn’t come to pause completely. It was a more playful question that followed: “Yeah, what did happen to your arm?” He assumed he wasn’t born that way, not with the surprise the friend showed.
Nikolai was a conservative dancer. He didn’t draw attention particularly. Nox, on the other hand, moved effortlessly. Rhythm and motion came as easy as breathing, and Nik found himself staying near the man simply because he hoped it would make him look a little bit better just to share the company. Sweat slicked his brow soon, but he let himself fall into the fun of simply moving around. When the sensation of channelers broke the spell, his gaze followed the line of sight just to watch the outcome. How long he waited alone, yearning for someone else like himself to share in the experience. He stumbled dangerous in those early years: prodding and testing with grave delicacy. The first time he fell sick was on a train car traveling from Bologna to Rome. He hit on a blonde woman with such brazen forwardness all these years later he was embarrassed at the behavior. Then, for almost decades, nothing. Nobody. Armande knew, but they met after Nikolai could control it. Nik was almost 40 by then. At 65 years old, he knew he looked half that age, and he had to wonder what the future held for everyone.
His sexuality was hetero-oriented, but he didn’t not dance with Nox, or anyone else for that matter. It was a oneness that wasn’t unlike the pull of the power. When the presence of a channeler emerged from Nox, Nikolai smiled, imagining the luck. He drew upon the power himself, just a small amount, and hid the glow of a light in the hook of his palm. Before anything else could happen, some young man thundered into the group, splitting them apart. The friend Nox mentioned.
The dancing slowed, but he didn’t come to pause completely. It was a more playful question that followed: “Yeah, what did happen to your arm?” He assumed he wasn’t born that way, not with the surprise the friend showed.