[color=ed145b][b][center][h2]Aria Kelly[/h2][/center][/b][/color]

Friday. Research day has slowly become his favorite day of the week. A day dedicated to getting hands on with the newest tech or game was always a good day in Aria’s book. That and this was the only day of the week that he didn’t have to walk into his stuffy office and get hit on by Alice. The woman meant well, but her constant want to go on a second date. The first one was a definite mistake, but perhaps he should have known better than to turn the charm on and put his hair in her favorite style from the Witcher. She was a big fan of the series. The irony of the train of thought could not be ignored as he slipped the third installment of the series into the disk tray of his PlayStation. Pulling up his notebook, he prepared to try and finish as much of the game as he could until he had to open up the bar. Two hours in, Aria found the game very charming and a great improvement on the series in terms of game play and story. Four hours in, he had become convinced that the writers of the book these games were based on was a misogynist pig overtly obsessed with his silly OC, seeing as he had slept with at least 6 different women within his time playing and they all being fine with Geralt’s lack of care. At the end of his play session, Aria felt fit to go on a Tumblr rant that would make even the most fervent of feminazi’s pause, but decided that he would simply drink while he tended the bar instead. Perhaps Alice wanted to him to pick up a few tips from the main character, but didn’t believe he had it in him. His track record with the fairer sex couldn’t fill in a pamphlet with all of the gritty details included. His thoughts wandered toward his mark on his wrist as he stepped into the shower. 

This single character, written in no identifiable language, with an almost ominous feel seemed to stare back at him as the warm  water ran over his person. It seemed to be his mother’s native tongue, beyond human pronunciation and layered in meaning yet to be discovered. He had found similar marking when researching his mother’s roots, but usually he would find nothing more than the symbol. On the one occasion that he found someone who could interpret his mother’s trademark ‘rune,’ this madman’s speech was a jumble of different languages forming a sentence that roughly translated to “one third whole.” This phrasing brought into question the existence of his mother having sisters or brothers, but when he tried to learn more from the madman, he cursed at Aria and told him to begone half-breed. He had killed himself that very night. Although curious, Aria figured that he would have to leave the discovery of his mother’s family in fate’s hands and wait for more promising clues for the trail had run dry. Stepping out of the shower, Aria busied his thoughts with the work coming his way. After the fifth renovation of his bar, Ye Ole Huntsman became the preferred pre-game spot for a younger clientele heading to other clubs and bars. The hours of 9-11 were his busiest hours during the weekends, which required him to talk to many ignorant people. An loathsome task, however he couldn’t ignore the income it was netting him. Taking a hit of his bong before brushing his teeth and using mouthwash, Aria got dressed for work. Stepping out of his apartment building, Aria quickly rushed to the subway and began to take the short ride downtown. Opening the bar up, he soon found his employees coming out of the woodwork of the city as he unlocked the door. Setting up behind the bar, Aria prepared for a long night of serving.