AlteredTundra

Edenridge

_{A @metanoia & @LovelyComplex Collaboration || featuring Marco Brady & Cat the Cat}

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The revved engine of a dark blue pickup came to a steady stop in front of the Godmother’s Sandwich Shop. Marco made sure to park it as close to the entrance as he could. The only downside was that his brother’s truck was lifted up somewhat, so Marco knew as soon as he stepped out, he’d feel that nice crunch of his limbs. That kind of earth-shattering crunch one always wants to feel after they’ve had an eye awakening experience.

As he watched in a painful limp, Marco found himself taking a seat at the nearest table inside. Surprisingly it wasn’t jam-packed as he assumed it would be. He didn’t know who else was seeing themselves, but Marco shrugged as he put pressure off of his left leg and was left to his own devices for a few minutes. He spent those minutes just thinking about everything his other self said. How that whole ordeal was all about his internal strife (or however the hell he phrased it). Said that he needed to deal with the external.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Marco cursed, slamming the table with his balled fist. “And now my hand hurts. Wonderful.”

Looking up, Marco saw Cat hovering over him and he started to wonder just how long she’d been standing there. “Oh hey! Didn’t see you there.”

Raising an eyebrow, curious and concerned, Caterina, with painted whiskers on her face and cat ears on her head, gave the boy a quick glance over before smiling, “Oh hey, it’s a little early…” Cat looked at her wrist watch, then the door, then back at Marco. She was in her red pea coat jacket, which covered her black long sleeve shirt and pants (a budget cat outfit). She looked like she just arrived into the building, only moments before Marco came trampling in, “You’re my first customer today seeing how I haven’t opened yet.” Cat laughed to herself, realizing she must’ve forgotten to lock the door behind her. “I can fix you up a sandwich real quick. Let me guess, your usual? Irish reuben with extra sauerkraut?”

Today started awfully weird, on top of the sky having an odd hue of purple casting over their town, her kids actually sleeping in instead of jumping in excitement for the Belmonte party and trick-or-treating, Edenridge seemed… different. Gentle mist dancing throughout the streets. An unusual quiet. It felt almost magical, in a haunting sort of way, like they were stuck in a dream. She couldn’t tell why nor did she personally have any weird occurrences happen to her, but she could feel it in the air.

“Oh, and Happy Halloween!”

Marco had been lost in his own thoughts even as he sat there. His delayed reaction came in the form in an almost startled jump. “And Happy Halloween to you too!” would be the last thing Marco said as Cat disappeared behind the counter.

He could smell her make his sandwich, the smell being enough to awaken his stomach and make it almost eat itself. He didn’t know how long it’s been since he ate anything. He didn’t know what time he even woke up. He remembered it being night time when he was having that strange encounter with his other self, but maybe that was him thinking it was night time? Could have been early in the sunrise transition. It definitely felt like it was early, though. Something about the way his body felt whenever he pulled an all-nighter. That bizarre mix of hungry and sleepy lingered like a bad itch.

And smelling the corn beef brisket was more than enough to intensify that feeling.

Taking himself out of his head for a change, Marco looked up. And maybe it was just the first time him noticing, but he realized she had the whiskers and ears of a cat. “Say Cat, have you noticed anything...weird going on lately? I mean, like anything out of the norm?”

Placing his plate in front of him, along with a glass of water, Cat shrugged, “No, but I do have this weird gut feeling. Then again, I’m kind of on autopilot in the mornings. Why, what’s up?” Since she hadn’t officially opened her store yet, Cat decided to invite herself at his table, sitting across from the boy her little brother used to hang out with a lot. “Did you get spooked or something?” Intertwining her fingers together, she rested her elbows on the table and her chin on the back of her hands.

There was a vague instance where she saw her father talking to her late great uncle Cosimo in front of Palermo but she didn’t have her morning coffee yet so she didn’t think too deeply into it.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Marco said, looking down at his sandwich. He hadn’t touched it yet and his stomach was making him suffer for it. “I still don’t know if it was a dream or not. It’s honestly so bizarre now that I’m thinking about it, but I kinda had a conversation with...myself. Minus the limp I’ve been…blessed with.” He laughed more at how crazy he probably sounded right now. Thinking about it made him want to tear some hair out and saying it out loud cemented that thought.

“Is that weird?” Cat tilted her head, wondering why this kid was beating himself up for his inner thoughts. “Sounds like you were self reflecting and maybe your subconscious just made it feel like you were talking with yourself?” Unlocking her fingers, Danny’s eldest sister leaned back and adjusted her ears, “What did you talk about? With yourself? If you mind me asking.”

Somehow Marco knew that she wouldn’t understand completely. Or maybe it wasn’t that and she was right? Could that actually be the case? Marco had no freaking idea which one it was, but that didn’t matter. As he took a bite of his sandwich, savoring both it and the time it allowed him to think on how to phrase what he was about to say, he looked up at Cat the Cat. “I don’t mind telling. I mean, okay so I guess it really was just about this...other me making sure I understand what happened to me--” He made a point to raise his injured leg up which more or less felt like dead weight, “--wasn’t my fault. And, I guess that I had to tackle my internal and external crisis, whatever that’s supposed to mean.” He laughed again and took a bigger bite of his sandwich, chewing as he thought about what the other him emphasized when he said external crisis.

In sudden passion, Cat slapped the table, “Why the hell are you blaming yourself for that fucking kid going pyscho?” Woah, reel it in Cat. Reel it in. “Did you know my daughter was shot near you, Marco? She’s given up completely on soccer, and you know what? That’s okay. Life doesn’t have a map. We don’t have this predetermined final destination. Things change, people change us. Do you think I always wanted to be a business owner? Fuck no. Originally, my dream was to become an actress. I was in my prime in high school, but shit happens. I lost my best friend and got pregnant, then I decided to use the gifts my parents gave me for a stable life.”

Marco knew she was right. His other self said similar things. So why couldn’t he bring himself to follow their line of thinking? On some level, he did blame himself even though Charlie Decker was the one who clearly was in the wrong. But as he sat there, slowly chewing on the last bit of the first half of his sandwich, he didn’t know that about Sofia. Or maybe he forgot when he was deep in his own despair and self-pity. “I’m sorry, Cat. I didn’t mean to…” He choked on his words. Even right now he couldn’t bear to make anymore excuses, not when Cat had proven that they held no merit.

And in a way, maybe this was what he needed. Not only because of the sandwich that helped satiate a hunger that lingered about, but also a sense of direction. If it wasn’t for Cat, Marco wouldn’t have been able to put the final pieces of this puzzle together. “Thank you, Cat. For the sandwich. I’ll probably take the other half to go. I think there’s something I need to do.” As he got up, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “How much?”

“Free. It’s Halloween, kid, go enjoy yourself.” Caterina stood up and began to clean up the table. Swiftly, she grabbed him a to-go box, handed it to him, and began cleaning the table, “Listen, life is short. If I can give you any sound advice, don’t wake up with regrets. It’s exhausting.” As Marco got up, Cat paused from wiping the table and glanced up at Marco, frowning a bit, “If you get a chance, check on Danny for me? He’s been out of it since, um... our mother died.”

At the moment that Cat had mentioned it, Marco only smiled for the sake of Cat but internally he found himself truly worried about Danny. He couldn’t even begin to understand what that was like, to wake up one day and find that your mother was gone. Just the thought of not ever seeing his ma again terrified him, lord only knew what Danny might be going through right now.

He gave her a nod, holding his smile firm on his face. “I will. I’ll swing by later, I promise.” There was a sort of a conviction in Marco’s voice, the kind that seemed to say more than his words could ever.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

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What was Zestasia to do with this information that Etoile gave him and Pythia? What should he do with it?

As he stared at the older blonde, he tried to come up with a level-headed reaction to everything she just revealed. A logical summary of his feelings towards it all. He hated what they did to not only him, but his brother. They were the ones who forced Pagonia to leave him with Anatoli. They were the ones who captured Anatoli. And he hasn’t let go of that hatred. Anyone who was associated with them, by all rights, were the enemy.

But with Etoile, it felt like there were too many gray areas for him to think clearly. She wasn’t an inquisitor any longer. In the short time they had spent traveling through the forest, they watched each other’s back. She may have been bossy, but that’s the sort of thing that left an impression on the younger Calore.

“Damn damn damn!” Zestasia cursed a few more times, looking around (but more importantly away from Etoile’s gaze). He found himself looking at Pagonia who was with Clara. He frowned as he thought about all of the years that the two of them lost, him and Pagonia. “Do you know why I can’t stand the imperium?” Zestasia asked as his eyes remained on his brother. “There are too many reasons to count, of course: the time I lost with my brother, the death of my family, but the one that fuels my rage is when they captured my master. Two years ago the man who took me in and taught me everything I know about magic was captured and I swore to myself I’d do anything I could to rescue him.”

In what could only be described as a rare moment for Zestasia, who up until now had always had something funny or witty to say (obviously self-believed), but as he turned to face Etoile, he had a serious expression on his face. “I don’t know how I feel about you, Etoile. I’m not even sure what I feel right now, but…” There was a pause and he bit the inside of his lip, “but from where I stand, we’re fighting the same fight and I think that’s enough for me to put any animosity I hold for you to rest.” He put his hand out awkwardly as a gesture of good will, immediately feeling his face go hot with slight embarrassment. He just hoped that Etoile would accept his gesture so they could go back to acting like the band of makeshift amigos that they were before all of the revelations came down on them.

Edenridge

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Marco seldom tuned into Mei’s podcast...thing, but as of late, he found himself doing a lot that he hadn’t normally. Not in a long time had Marco truly felt despair knock itself boldly at his door, screaming at him like the wails of anguish that he could remember screeching when Charlie Decker shot him. Those immediate thoughts came flooding back after a bad dream, those thoughts that plagued him in those first weeks in the hospital after he got his surgery. They plagued him like an illness that sapped just about every single light he had to spare.

And they were why he was up almost every night, kicking ass at whatever online game he could get his hands on. Some nights he dove head-first into Call of Duty. Some nights it was League of Legends. It always changed depending on his mood, but for some reason, unlike previous times where he’d just let himself get lost in mindless action, Marco was laying in bed on his side (the leg he got shot in facing up). He laid there on his side, his Bose headphones in and he listened to Mei Midnight speak.

Admittedly, Marco may have tuned her out at some parts. He was drifting into a partial slumber, his eyes heavy as he felt the chill of his fan hit him every three seconds as it blew the cold air around his room. He didn’t have his blanket on so he felt the chills start at his toes and go all the way up to his hair. It felt nice and as he drifted off into a dream, Marco heard a voice.

Marco...Marco…

It was haunting and it kept calling out to him. The voice sounded strikingly masculine but also, as it kept calling to him, beckoning him with misty strings of light, he felt an air of familiarity within it. Not only was the light reaching to him familiar, but there was something about the way that that voice made him feel. It was confident and comforting. It didn’t just call his name but it was patient in how it waited for Marco to acknowledge it.

Around him was nothing. Around Marco was something. He couldn’t tell what it was. He glanced around in all directions. There wasn’t light nor was there darkness, yet he clearly saw the light yellow hues of light that the voice seemed to originate from. It was the only color that he could make out.

And he started to walk towards it.

Correction. Marco limped towards it.

As he walked, he felt a cold breeze touch his skin, which immediately had him shiver, reaching behind him and a black hoodie that he always wore seemed to appear and he slipped it on. No longer feeling the wind hit him in such an extreme way, Marco continued down the path the yellow mist was guiding him to. As he did, he heard sounds that felt like the revving of an engine. He couldn’t see anything, but suddenly he was able to do more than limp. Suddenly Marco felt himself able to run at speeds that he only dreamed of running.

And as he ran, the thoughts of despair came back. He couldn’t stop them just as he couldn’t stop himself from running; similarly, he couldn’t stop himself from getting shot.

All my fault, he kept telling himself. It was all his fault. Being out there after the bell rang. Being out there after knowing the bell had rang.

You didn’t know.

He heard that voice say and a wave of grief long since past came over him.

Of course I did!

Marco didn’t know what he was doing. He was carrying out a conversation as he ran, wind pressing against his face, his dark hair flowing back. And he was having a conversation with the voice of someone he didn’t know, yet something told him he did.

What sense did that make?

It wasn’t your fault!

So what? Now Marco was Matt Damon and this voice was Robin Williams? Was that even the right analogy?

Marco turned around, running in the complete opposite direction. And as he ran, he took a few lefts, effortlessly turning as he maintained the right speed. Before, he felt like he was running on what he assumed was a sensation similar to asfalt, but now he heard echoes -- echoes of his feet.

ClickclickTaptap

And another turn.

And then another and then Marco’s footsteps made no noise -- none that were as audible as before. Now they were muffled, like the brushing of blades of glass when hit by the wind.

Marco Brady finally came to a stop and what was a blissful feeling not experiencing any pain in his leg, suddenly it was so intense, Marco fell to the ground as he held his left leg from the ankle. There was a warm sensation. It was agonizing. Surging through his entire body was a pain that was more than physical. As he started to cry out, Marco yelled:

“Help!”

But there wasn’t anyone.

“Help!” He cried out again, this time screeching at it.

“Nobody is here, Marco.”

There was that voice again, but this time he couldn’t hear them in his head. The voice didn’t echo like before, but rather, as he looked up in the middle of trying not to pass out from the torture he was enduring through, he saw the shadow of someone.

“Who are you?” He asked.

The person had clapped slowly, their form slowly revealing itself. “Who am I? Do you really need to ask that, Marco?” Their question, though it was soon answered, they stepped forward and Marco soon found himself with more questions than he began with.

“You’re —”

“That’s right,” they said, smiling, “I’m you. Or what you could have been.”

Shaking his head, Marco suddenly didn’t feel excruciating discomfort in his leg. It was just the normal discomfort that had him forever limping. “This can’t be happening. This is all a dream…”

“Is it?”

With a gesture, the other Marco smiled and soon the devoid of color that Marco thought he was running in was to be revealed that he was back at the school. Specifically, Marco was in the soccer field and where he stood was exactly where he was shot.

And now he was even more confused than ever. Was it a dream? Was this real? MArco was on his bed listening to Mei’s stream. She talked about...she talked about -- oh, God what was it again? The elder tree or something like that? He wished he didn’t drift off when she was supposed to be explaining the origin of that tree or that he knew more about it.

Every inch of Marco’s mind right now was being spent trying to figure out he was looking at a fit version of himself, brandishing a soccer/Eruopean football uniform and he was on the ground, no longer in immense pain like the cripple he always felt like. Nevermind the fact that he thought he was running, but as he looked behind him, his brother’s truck was there, parked at an angle no less than three feet from where he was laying on the ground. How was any of this possible? Was he dreaming or was he awake and just couldn’t process any of it?

“So if this is all real--”

“Never said that--”

“Okay,” Marco said, getting annoyed a bit with his other, better-looking self. “If this is a dream--”

“I didn’t say that either.”

Marco narrowed his eyes at himself. Just looking at him made him confused and everything that was happening was enough to make him seriously consider checking himself into a mental institution, because it was clear as day that he was going insane if he was having a conversation with himself as he laid on the surprisingly lukewarm grass.

“So then what is going on? If this isn’t real and it isn’t a dream, then what?!” Marco’s voice got a bit intense as he slammed his fists on the ground.

“Marco, it’s alright, okay? I’m not here to cause you confusion or anything close to that. I’m here because there’s something you need to get off your chest.”

“I think I’d know if I needed to get something off my chest,” he retorted back, mumbling something inaudible under a fake cough.

The Other Marco raised his eyebrow at him and knelt down. Marco looked at him with an uncharacteristic jealousy at how easily he was able to do that without groaning. “You are here for a reason. Tonight didn’t happen because you were feeling blue. I know you because I am you. I know you have moments where you can’t keep it together for the people who love you. I know this because I am a projection of your psyche. As I said, I am what you wished you could be, but do you want to know something, Marco?”

Marco tried not to scowl, but he kept his eyes on the other him. “What? You’re going to rub it in my face that I could have been walking if I wasn’t out in this field practicing?”

The Other Marco stared at him, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. “No. I’m here so you can tell me why you still think that was ever your fault to begin with. I’m here so you can say things that you can’t to those you wish you could.”

“Such as?”

“Such as Danny Belmonte. Such as Charlie Decker. Such as everyone you feel looks down on you because you are -- what did you call it? Cripple Castillo?” There was a laugh from the Other Marco and he earned a scathing glare in response. “Remember--”

“Yes, I know. You’re me, so you’re laughing at my--”

“--Our--”

“Right. Our pain.”

It took Marco a few minutes to think. In that time, he saw his other self standing there patiently. That was something they didn’t have in common, so maybe he was a version of himself that he wished he could be. Deep down, he knew everything that perfect version of himself said was the truth. He had a list of things he wished he could say to Danny. He wished he could tell his ex how he truly felt and how he wished they could be together like they used to, but in public as well as private. He wished he could corner Charlie Decker, make him look him in the eye and ask him why he decided to shoot everyone. He wished he could walk without having to limp half the time. MArco wanted so desperately to be able to live that dream.

But he couldn’t. Damn. Damn. Damn!

Why was tonight so special? And why, of all things, did some projection of what he wished he could be show themself to him?

“So what am I supposed to do? Just start listing things? Is that how this process works?” Marco asked as he stood up. The pain surged through his body and his other self held him steady with their arms until Marco was able to support himself. “Well what am I supposed to do? What should I say? Tell you how I hate this. How much I…” As he hesitated, his lip began to quiver and he bit it just hard enough to stop himself from succumbing to the breakdown he knew was well on its way. “...How much I fucking hate being a burden to everyone? Is that what you want me to say?”

The Other Marco stood there, looking at MArco. Watching him lean forward and his hand holding his left calf to keep himself from falling over. The pressure was on his right leg so it didn’t cause immense pain in his bum one. In his eyes, he could feel the feeble Marco’s anguish in every word he spoke, the way his voice cracked with emotion. It hurt him because it hurt Marco; and because Marco hurt, he didn’t have the words to provide him with an answer.

Of course, The Other Marco knew that he felt this because he was Marco. Even if he didn’t show it, he was a projection of Marco Brady’s mind. He was the hopes and dreams that Marco Brady still clung to. In his darkest thoughts, he was the light that brought comfort to him and when he needed a reason to get out of bed, more often than not, he was the one that Marco could visualize and everything would be okay. But of course, this only worked if he didn’t let himself drown in the despair that stemmed from the reality of what could never be.

The Other Marco was this reality that was no longer possible. Marco Brady wouldn’t be like how he was and that was a fact. Charlie Decker took that away from him. And it was Charlie Decker who..

“You need to let go, Marco. But in order to do this, you need to see one more person.”

“Another? Who?” Marco asked, his voice still ripe with emotion, his voice cracked and his eyes puffed up from him trying -- and failing -- to hold back a sob of tears. “Who else is there to see? I thought you were the only person I needed to see. Isn’t that what you said?”

The Other Marco shook his head. “I am the ghost of you, Marco. All the pain you feel, while it is phenomenal that you have made it so far, it is just the internal strife you confronted. What you must face before this night is done is face your external strife. The horror that you know you have to come face to face with, it’s closer than you think.”

“What does that even mean?”

Even though Marco’s plea was genuine, his other self smiled and pointed to his heart. He pointed still until his form faded in the same bright yellow smoke that presented itself to Marco when he thought he was asleep. And even when he was left alone, Marco was still confused about many things. What was happening tonight? What did this have to do with the Elder Tree? And what did his other self mean by the external horror?

He was so confused, but it was something. Marco had something to go off of, but he couldn’t do this on an empty stomach. Somehow, through all of that pseudo-running he did, he had literally worked up an appetite. Maybe it was real or maybe it wasn’t, but all he knew was he could go for a Reuben sandwich right about now.

Delbrook Academy High School

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______________________________________	______________________________________________________________________________________ Location: Carinival (High Striker) Interactions: Ali @King Kindred ______________________________________________________________________________________

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The moment that Kyle finished trying to give Ali pointers about how to get the most of the swing of the High Striker hammer, he handed it off to her and smiled when she stepped up to plate (yes he knew it wasn't baseball but the saying still applied). He didn't know exactly where his head was going, but watching her take that hammer and successfully drop it on the platform and bell making a loud ding, he stood there with widened eyes and a very Kyle-like dropped jaw expression.

Wasn't it just a minute ago she didn't know how to swing it? Am I really that good of a teacher? Soy and the others would just love to hear about this!

But okay, so she really took your pointers to heart and applied them. He helped her be better at his favorite game. He showed her how to properly swing the hammer and get the most effective result. Kyle did that for her and he couldn't have been more proud of someone even if he was staring into a mirror and he saw himself.

Okay, that was kind of a creepy tangent. Kyle wasn't vain enough to see himself as hot in the mirror and he sure as hell didn't think Ali looked manly...although she swung that hammer like most men he knew.

Focus Kyle!

Yeah, focus Kyle. Focus on the fact that she is smiling back at you. Focus on the fact that you're able to have fun with Ali without any worry of faking how you truly feel. Focus on the fact that she's looking at you to give some kind of response.

"Y-yeah.." Kyle said, feeling choked up for some reason. "Just like that!" He smiled, looking between her and the hammer. "I can't believe my advice actually worked, though. I mean, I knew it would but, you know sometimes I don't usually help things, so I'm just really surprised that it actually worked." He knew he was rambling and he let out a nervous chuckle. "I mean, you gave that platform a hell of a swing. You're a lot stronger than you look, y'know?"

Delbrook Academy High School

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______________________________________	______________________________________________________________________________________ Location: Carinival (High Striker) Interactions: Ali @King Kindred ______________________________________________________________________________________

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”Okay, that wasn’t bad. Good form, but--” Kyle stepped forward after he watched Ali take first cracks at the high striker. Kyle was, after all, a gentleman first and foremost. No amount of grand confessions against some fence nearby to her would change that. Besides, Ali was looking eager to go first, so who was he to deny her that pleasure? “--you have to put more swing into your swing.”

As Kyle looked at the bell at the top,there was a moment when he turned his head around to look at Ali, who he saw was just smiling at him, and he immediately became flustered internally (no so much externally because Kyle was a master at mostly concealing it). Nevertheless, he had someone watching him. He did say he would show her how to do it...not that she did anything wrong. Kyle wasn’t trying to mansplain her or anything. He hated when he heard people did that. But he also didn’t want Ali to hurt herself. The hammer was heavy and, well, he just wanted to show her how to properly get the most out of her swing.

That’s noble of him, right? Right!

“Right..” Kyle gripped the handle of the hammer, stepping up to the plate (so to speak) and raised it up. As he took in a deep breath, making sure to breathe from his stomach, as he exhaled, the hammer came crashing down onto the rubber pad. The next thing he heard was the bell sounding off and a wide smile came across his face.

“Now you give it another shot, Ali!” Kyle cheerfully said, handing her the hammer. They were the only ones at the game, so they could play it for as long as they wanted.

♔ ♕ 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞

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______________________________________	______________________________________________________________________________________ Location — OIC Quad → 155° Cafe Mentions — Lola @Venus, Riley @WindsofFate Interactions: Charlie @smarty0114 Andre's outfit of the day ______________________________________________________________________________________

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"Sloth? Really?"

Andre stood in front of the bulletin board, staring at the polaroids with just about everyone who was anyone. It was titled "The Elites". He thought that was an atrocious name. Not because some of the faces he saw weren't just that: elite, but that someone decided that these people, some of whom were his friends -- best friends, even -- should be dubbed The Elite. Like they had a say who was classed as such and who wasn't. Dre hated that. He hated that someone was separating those on the board, whose picture had but a single name attached to it, like they were defined by just that.

And, yeah he hated that his morning started off like this. But maybe it was the fact that his polaroid had the name Sloth. He didn't know what impression he gave to whoever was behind this to deserve such an insulting name. Did he favor being inside more than going to some stupid frat or sorority party? Sure. Of course, he would. He'd prefer it if he could just go about his business, not have to deal with the idiots who got accepted to OiC because of their parents' money or whatever pull they had with the administration. And yes, Dre understands the hypocrisy of this train of thought since he has full access to a well-off trust fund.

But here's the difference between Dre and them (or at least in his mind). He wants to make his own way. He felt like the one member in his family (except his oldest brother, Xander) who didn't want to use his family's money. If it were up to him, he'd do away with his surname, but even his mother's name was recognizable. So he figured the lesser of two evils.

And speaking of two evils, as Dre kept glaring at the board, he found himself centering on Lola's that was just above his. What were the odds? Probably slim, but considering Andre had a habit of calculating them, he wanted to study this board. Part of that was to prove that he wasn't a sloth.

Looking at his phone, Dre just noticed the time. "Oh fuck..." He cursed, rushing off, picking up his electric scooter that was leaning against a nearby tree. "I'm late! And after I finally caved!" Caved to finally meet with Charlie outside of classes and meeting to fix her computer.

He hopped on his scooter and made his way to the 155° Cafe.

After a couple of weeks of nonstop nagging to get him to hang out with her, Andre finally admitted defeat yesterday. Late last night, in fact. He was out about, going for a walk to clear his head after he had a less-than-vocal conversation with his roommate, Riley, about something he couldn't be bothered to remember right now. All he knew was she buttered him up without even realizing it. Honestly, it wasn't so bad. He rushed out of his dorm so quickly after he woke up that he forgot to eat. He had his eye on his leftover chicken sandwich from a couple of nights ago. He was pretty certain that would be gone, though. Like the bull he was labeled as, Andre had no doubt it would be gone by the time he returned to the dorm later today.

And thus why he wasn't totally sour about meeting Charlie at the cafe.

Speaking of, it came into view and, as he locked up his scooter on the bike rack next to it, he took in a deep breath. He didn't know why, but whenever he felt anxious about...,well anything, really, he felt that was the thing you were supposed to do. He didn't know and he wasn't a psychiatrist, but it was done and it helped him calm whatever nerves were getting out of wack.

When he opened the entrance door, he thought he heard someone call his name and that caught him off-guard.

..Okay, so maybe he was a little tenser than he was letting on.

God, I hope Charlie doesn't pick up on that...

As his eyes scanned the room, he realized someone did call for him. Waving from a table in the back, he saw Charlie and he instinctively gave her a smile, waving back, but he didn't move. Maybe part of him froze but there was a delayed response on the physical end of things. When it finally registered, he was walking towards the table and took a seat opposite of Charlie once he reached it.

"Hey, uh, sorry if I'm late.." He offered as an apology, laughing way too nervously for his own good. "Kinda got caught up in that bulletin board and just kind of lost track of time."

Way to prove that you're not a sloth, Mossos.

Delbrook Academy High School

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Malu definitely hated lines with a passion.

Maybe it was her innate impatience or just the fact that when she was starving, especially on a day that didn't get off to the best start, she was extra irritible. But all she knew was that watching the line go so slow and how it just seemed to be like an old person driving -- like someone in their forties. And the longer she was forced to consistently watch the people inside the truck move like snails, the more she was starting to wonder if it was even worth being at the back of the line. Not even the text she just received from Mia, saying she was on her way, asking her to save her a spot in the line, was enough to put her into a better mood.

The only thing that might set the chemical imbalance that was about to result in her fist in someone's face was three orders of crunchy chicken tacos with extra hot sauce and lime juice.

"Hurry the fu—"

Suddenly, from behind Malu felt a decent enough force cut her off and that familiar smell of a certain Italian friend of hers always smelled of. Something consisting of something you'd expect the Kardashians to wear, but way hotter. "Jesus fuck, you sure know how to make an entrance."

"Hey, grouchy! I missed you!"

"Yeah, missed me so much you pounced me from behind." She gave Mia a teasing smirk. Their banter was always borderline sexually charged. It was a nice contrast between the nerdy one she often had with her Nala. Kind of a yin yang of her friendships. Question was, what was Mia?

And that's a question that would have to be answered later, because even before Romano spoke up, she noticed the new bangs.

"So, bangs, what are we thinking? ...Please say something nice. Vincent has been calling me a 'little lad' all morning, I need it for my self-esteem."

"About Vincent? The fact he didn't fail last year is proof I always have something nice to say about him, but after he did you dirty? He's only getting a C for the next quarter. Let's see him bitch after that." The thought made Malu laugh for a solid couple of moments. As she toned it down, she gave her girl a smile. "But you're killing it, bitch. And trust me, I bet he's just deflecting -- what with his little lad."

Someone had to stop Malu or she was going to commit verbal murder on him before the day was done.

Secret Force: A Power Rangers Story

_{Location — Working around town
What I'm wearing}
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Levi found himself frozen in more ways than one. Paralyzed from the rush of adrenaline he knew he was experiencing because his heart was beating at a rapid pace and all because of that almost fatal blow he could have taken from whatever shot out of that monster's rifle. If he hadn't tackled the girl down when he did, they'd both meet a similar fate her door met. But another reason why he felt frozen was when another shot came and she pulled him down to where they were in a very similar position and the beam of whatever-it-was shot through the wall and the roof. The sight of the debris brought Levi back to planet Earth.

“Hand over the energems and I’ll let you live!”

Huh? Levi blankly glared at the freak of nature who made such a demand with a puzzled expression. "What are you talking about?"

After the confusion set in and remained on his defined face for a few more moments, Levi found himself on his feet, turning around. When the girl went for one of those things on the ground, he saw her pick up the blue one. He couldn't explain why, but he felt a...pull towards that green one. Like something beyond his comprehension was at play. Levi wasn't a believer in things like that. He found it to be too complicated, but he knew that his gut feeling was always right and it told him two things. One, something terrible was going to happen today, which based on the past five minutes, it did. And two, if these glowing rocks were those Energems (he was venturing a guess), then there was no way the worst cosplayer ever should get their hands on these.

As he picked it up and held it in his hand, it felt rough, but at the same time, it felt as smooth as granite. As he examined it, he heard his former customer taunt the monster and he cracked a smile as he closed the hand with the crystal thing in it, looking at his former customer next to him, leaning close. "You sure you should be taunting him like that? If he hits us with his rifle, well..." Levi glanced behind him at parts of her house that were in rubble, "well if it did that to your house, what do you think it'll do to us? It's not like we have anything to defend ourselves with..."

♔ ♕ 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞

Andre Mossos

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Andreas Hektor Mossos

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗔𝗚𝗘 & 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗔 x x x 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗨𝗔𝗟 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 x x x 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗪𝗡	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 19; 09/20/02 @dredoesthings x x x Cis-Male he/him HetFlex x x x Long Beach, California Beverly Hills, California

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	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x Sophomore Software Engineering Computer Science x x x Outstanding with most academic courses; struggles with presentations Fixes computers as well as a private tutor	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗬𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗠𝗔𝗝𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗢𝗥 x x x 𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗖 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗨𝗘𝗦 x X 𝗩𝗜𝗖𝗘𝗦 x X 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗦 x X 𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦 x x 𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x Loyal || Quirky || Humble x x Stubborn || Somewhat Reserved || Snarky x x The dream is Silicon Valley. Maybe working for Google or Sony x x Public speaking, getting rejected, disappointment x x The Sloth 🤴	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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x x One might say that Andre's childhood was privileged. One might say he had a taste of the finer things that wealth brought. His father, Alexandros Stefano Mossos, who is a descendent of Greek-Italian immigrants and his mother, Audrey Huntsberg-Mossos, the child of white and Mexican parents, they both came from immense wealth. Like the kind of wealth that if you knew the amount, you'd shit your pants. The kind of wealth that could afford several memberships to the most luxurious country clubs in the SoCal area. The kind of wealth that afforded several vacation homes all around the world, as well as being able to send all of their four children to the college of their choices, as well as two adopted nephews from Alex's side. And the kind of wealth that Andre had always been a little ashamed. Because throughout his entire childhood, as much as he'd love to say he rose to the occasion of Alexandros Jr/Xander or Antonella/Ella. Or even Ariana, Romeo, and Dante, but the truth is that he rarely ever did. He was the youngest, which meant he always was babied. He didn't like it and sometimes that meant he got away with a lot more, but at the same time, being the baby meant he was seldom taken seriously or given any breathing room. His mother always kept him in high regard, but with her helicopter-like approach to parenting and his father mostly being busy running Mossos Industries (the massive import/export business that was responsible for 60% of their lifestyle), Andre didn't feel like he lived up to anything. Part of him felt guilty because Xander outright rebelled against their mother and refused his fortune. But what did Dre do that was so amazing? He was the sweet, shy youngest son. He was a loyal friend to those he had, but he rarely did anything outside of his comfort zone. Even the one time he had a girlfriend, with someone he met when he was in detention and maybe something amazing came out of that. Like him losing his virginity, but that was squashed quickly because his mother kind of put a stop to it. Threatened him with boarding school and almost did it if things didn't fizzle out. For the most part, Andre had led a life that was, for a lack of better words, uneventful. When he got his acceptance letter from Oakwood International College, he was hopeful. Not only because he was happy to get a chance to make his own way and be his own person, but being removed from that environment might actually do him some good.

Sia Lucasta

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Cassopeia Star Lucasta

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗔𝗚𝗘 & 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗔 x x x 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗨𝗔𝗟 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 x x x 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗪𝗡	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 18; 06/29/02 @siingstars x x x Cis-Female she/her Bisexual x x x Lexington, Kentucky Louisville, Kentucky

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	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x Freshman Filmmaking Photography x x x Excels at presentations but sometimes they are chaotic Freelance Photographer; sells photos to anyone who'll buy them	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗬𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗠𝗔𝗝𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗢𝗥 x x x 𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗖 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗨𝗘𝗦 x X 𝗩𝗜𝗖𝗘𝗦 x X 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗦 x X 𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦 x x 𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x Curious || Imaginative || Friendly x x Chaotic || Scatterbrained || Reckless x x To make films that beckon people to feel things they can't find the words to say. x x Heights, putting herself out there, fear of abandonment x x The Heiress 💸	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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x x The Lucasta name is known quite infamously in Kentucky. Known for their Bourbon empire, they are a family who comes from the old money lifestyle, generations upon generations of being one of the main providers for Bourbon in the United States. For the majority of the Lucasta family's longevity of being bourbon-suppliers, they lived out of Lexington, Kentucky and that was where Sia was born, but after the Empire went through a massive change in leadership thanks to a few scandals that rocked it to its very core, the whole family uprooted their business to Louisville, where they began anew. Without fame and without the old money they came to rely on for generations, the family partnered with their rival, McLane Bourbon Company (MBC). And amidst this new change, or hell even the fact that she was born into the Lucasta family, Sia was always the odd one out. It wasn't that she felt like the family disappointment. Because she wasn't. She excelled in school, got top-notch grades, and by all rights, showed excellent promise for future studies, but the hopes that her father, Adam Lucasta, had for her was rooted in going under the wing of her oldest sister, Dawn. Vivian had already done that after she graduated from Harvard. Ethan was someone who joined the Empire's legal team, but Amell, who is the oldest, was probably the only one who understood Sia's problems, as they both had interests that were the furthest from the company as they could be. While Amell just wanted to see the country, he gave up his inheritance to become a cross-country truck driver while Sia wanted to follow her passion for filmmaking. She even got accepted into a prestigious Northern Californian college. But her father disapproved. He liked that she was accepted, but the fact her major, as well as her minor, had nothing to do with business sent him on such a rage, such a tirade that previous bouts of anger he had were no comparison. So she went to California in rebellion. On a scholarship, but her first year of tuition was paid using the first wave of inheritance that she received when she turned eighteen.

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Nicholas Grey

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Nicholas Salvador Grey

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗔𝗚𝗘 & 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗔 x x x 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗨𝗔𝗟 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 x x x 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗪𝗡	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 31; 06/05/89 @DreamingNGrey x x x Cis-Male He/His/Him Pansexual x x x Brooklyn, New York City, New York Brooklyn New York City, New York

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	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x Performing Arts Acting & Performing Dramatic Acting, the art of Performing x x x Extremely difficult to damn near suffering Acting Professor at OIC	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 x x x 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗦 𝗗𝗜𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗨𝗟𝗧𝗬 𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

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𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗨𝗘𝗦 x X 𝗩𝗜𝗖𝗘𝗦 x X 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗦 x X 𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦 x x 𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x Eccentric || Passionate || Inspiring x x Perfectionist || Egotistical || Unyeilding x x To mold the young minds into becoming future Tony and Oscar Award-Winning actors x x Failing the talents he is in charge of shining, disappointment (both of himself and from his students) x x will be given by GM	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓰𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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x x The arts have always been a core aspect of Nicholas' life for as long as he could remember. Always been surrounded by music from modern marvels and classic greats, there's always been an appreciation for art in the Grey-Salvador household. His father is the famous Theater-Actor-turned-Daytime Soap actor, Kavi Salvador and his mother, Ariel Grey-Salvador has become a name synonymous with some of the best modern albums produced. From Bieber to Clairo to underappreciated works by Bjork, she had some hand in their production. He grew up in various condos and apartments in New York City, so the rich history the Big Apple has was ingrained into Nicholas. Even when he was younger, he developed a taste for all of the finer things. And with the expectation that came with being from such a prestigious, artsy family, whether it was his oldest sister, Fiona Jade often serving as inspiration or him and his twin sister, Billie Jean, getting into trouble (more her than him), Nicholas was always passionate and, to some extent, eccentric in his behavior. But there was always a purpose and a reason why for doing the things he did. Whether in high school where he proved he was his father's son and essentially manwhored himself through the grades, Nicholas also proved he was his father's son because he developed a love for acting. Unlike his father, who found the love in late senior year, Nicholas knew he wanted to act since he was ten. And he went to classes early, went to special schools designed specifically for the arts - like the Brooklyn High School of the Arts. And when he graduated, he attended Julliard with a focus on acting and dancing, which proved to be a divisive and difficult double major. Eventually, dancing took a back seat and focused solely on acting. Years later, after he had established himself in Broadway and had taken vocal training, he was a trifecta of sorts. And being such a success story led Nicholas to be a guest of honor at his alma mater -- both high school and college. He had even started to mentor a few promising young talents. That's when he got a call from Oakwood International College. They found his number through various contacts and watched some of the plays he starred in and heard about how he had mentored various upcoming stars and they essentially wanted to poach him for their program. The offer was made clear and they wanted him. Nicholas met with the dean, saw their acting program and it impressed him so much that he accepted the offer. And for three years, he had been pulling dual duties of both directing stage productions (plays, musicals, one-person shows, etc) and teaching acting. He wouldn't be an easy professor for his expectation of perfection is only matched by his passion and his eccentric personality might make for a unique experience. Nevertheless, Nicholas will work with them if they show they are committed to the theater.

♔ ♕ 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞

I was inspired today lol

Andre Mossos

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Andreas Hektor Mossos

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𝓑𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗔𝗚𝗘 & 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗔 x x x 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗨𝗔𝗟 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 x x x 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗪𝗡	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 19; 09/20/01 @dredoesthings x x x Cis-Male he/him HetFlex x x x Long Beach, California Beverly Hills, California

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𝓐𝓬𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓬 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x Sophomore Software Engineering Computer Science x x x Outstanding with most academic courses; struggles with presentations Fixes computers as well as a private tutor	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗬𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗠𝗔𝗝𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗢𝗥 x x x 𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗖 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

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𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓰𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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x x One might say that Andre's childhood was privileged. One might say he had a taste of the finer things that wealth brought. His father, Alexandros Stefano Mossos, who is a descendent of Greek-Italian immigrants and his mother, Audrey Huntsberg-Mossos, the child of white and Mexican parents, they both came from immense wealth. Like the kind of wealth that if you knew the amount, you'd shit your pants. The kind of wealth that could afford several memberships to the most luxurious country clubs in the SoCal area. The kind of wealth that afforded several vacation homes all around the world, as well as being able to send all of their four children to the college of their choices, as well as two adopted nephews from Alex's side. And the kind of wealth that Andre had always been a little ashamed. Because throughout his entire childhood, as much as he'd love to say he rose to the occasion of Alexandros Jr/Xander or Antonella/Ella. Or even Ariana, Romeo, and Dante, but the truth is that he rarely ever did. He was the youngest, which meant he always was babied. He didn't like it and sometimes that meant he got away with a lot more, but at the same time, being the baby meant he was seldom taken seriously or given any breathing room. His mother always kept him in high regard, but with her helicopter-like approach to parenting and his father mostly being busy running Mossos Industries (the massive import/export business that was responsible for 60% of their lifestyle), Andre didn't feel like he lived up to anything. Part of him felt guilty because Xander outright rebelled against their mother and refused his fortune. But what did Dre do that was so amazing? He was the sweet, shy youngest son. He was a loyal friend to those he had, but he rarely did anything outside of his comfort zone. Even the one time he had a girlfriend, with someone he met when he was in detention and maybe something amazing came out of that. Like him losing his virginity, but that was squashed quickly because his mother kind of put a stop to it. Threatened him with boarding school and almost did it if things didn't fizzle out. For the most part, Andre had led a life that was, for a lack of better words, uneventful. When he got his acceptance letter from Oakwood International College, he was hopeful. Not only because he was happy to get a chance to make his own way and be his own person, but being removed from that environment might actually do him some good.

Sia Lucasta

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Cassopeia Star Lucasta

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𝓑𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗔𝗚𝗘 & 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗔 x x x 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗨𝗔𝗟 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 x x x 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗪𝗡	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 18; 06/29/02 @siingstars x x x Cis-Female she/her Bisexual x x x Lexington, Kentucky Louisville, Kentucky

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𝓐𝓬𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓬 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x Freshman Filmmaking Photography x x x Excels at presentations but sometimes they are chaotic Freelance Photographer; sells photos to anyone who'll buy them	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗬𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗠𝗔𝗝𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗢𝗥 x x x 𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗖 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

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𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓰𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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x x The Lucasta name is known quite infamously in Kentucky. Known for their Bourbon empire, they are a family who comes from the old money lifestyle, generations upon generations of being one of the main providers for Bourbon in the United States. For the majority of the Lucasta family's longevity of being bourbon-suppliers, they lived out of Lexington, Kentucky and that was where Sia was born, but after the Empire went through a massive change in leadership thanks to a few scandals that rocked it to its very core, the whole family uprooted their business to Louisville, where they began anew. Without fame and without the old money they came to rely on for generations, the family partnered with their rival, McLane Bourbon Company (MBC). And amidst this new change, or hell even the fact that she was born into the Lucasta family, Sia was always the odd one out. It wasn't that she felt like the family disappointment. Because she wasn't. She excelled in school, got top-notch grades, and by all rights, showed excellent promise for future studies, but the hopes that her father, Adam Lucasta, had for her was rooted in going under the wing of her oldest sister, Dawn. Vivian had already done that after she graduated from Harvard. Ethan was someone who joined the Empire's legal team, but Amell, who is the oldest, was probably the only one who understood Sia's problems, as they both had interests that were the furthest from the company as they could be. While Amell just wanted to see the country, he gave up his inheritance to become a cross-country truck driver while Sia wanted to follow her passion for filmmaking. She even got accepted into a prestigious Northern Californian college. But her father disapproved. He liked that she was accepted, but the fact her major, as well as her minor, had nothing to do with business sent him on such a rage, such a tirade that previous bouts of anger he had were no comparison. So she went to California in rebellion. On a scholarship, but her first year of tuition was paid using the first wave of inheritance that she received when she turned eighteen.

Nicholas Grey

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Nicholas Salvador Grey

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𝓑𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝗔𝗚𝗘 & 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗔 x x x 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗨𝗔𝗟 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 x x x 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗪𝗡	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 31; 06/05/89 @DreamingNGrey x x x Cis-Male He/His/Him Pansexual x x x Brooklyn, New York City, New York Brooklyn New York City, New York

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𝓐𝓬𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓬 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

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	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x Performing Arts Acting & Performing Dramatic Acting, the art of Performing x x x Extremely difficult to damn near suffering Acting Professor at OIC	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 x x x 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗦 𝗗𝗜𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗨𝗟𝗧𝗬 𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

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x x The arts have always been a core aspect of Nicholas' life for as long as he could remember. Always been surrounded by music from modern marvels and classic greats, there's always been an appreciation for art in the Grey-Salvador household. His father is the famous Theater-Actor-turned-Daytime Soap actor, Kavi Salvador and his mother, Ariel Grey-Salvador has become a name synonymous with some of the best modern albums produced. From Bieber to Clairo to underappreciated works by Bjork, she had some hand in their production. He grew up in various condos and apartments in New York City, so the rich history the Big Apple has was ingrained into Nicholas. Even when he was younger, he developed a taste for all of the finer things. And with the expectation that came with being from such a prestigious, artsy family, whether it was his oldest sister, Fiona Jade often serving as inspiration or him and his twin sister, Billie Jean, getting into trouble (more her than him), Nicholas was always passionate and, to some extent, eccentric in his behavior. But there was always a purpose and a reason why for doing the things he did. Whether in high school where he proved he was his father's son and essentially manwhored himself through the grades, Nicholas also proved he was his father's son because he developed a love for acting. Unlike his father, who found the love in late senior year, Nicholas knew he wanted to act since he was ten. And he went to classes early, went to special schools designed specifically for the arts - like the Brooklyn High School of the Arts. And when he graduated, he attended Julliard with a focus on acting and dancing, which proved to be a divisive and difficult double major. Eventually, dancing took a back seat and focused solely on acting. Years later, after he had established himself in Broadway and had taken vocal training, he was a trifecta of sorts. And being such a success story led Nicholas to be a guest of honor at his alma mater -- both high school and college. He had even started to mentor a few promising young talents. That's when he got a call from Oakwood International College. They found his number through various contacts and watched some of the plays he starred in and heard about how he had mentored various upcoming stars and they essentially wanted to poach him for their program. The offer was made clear and they wanted him. Nicholas met with the dean, saw their acting program and it impressed him so much that he accepted the offer. And for three years, he had been pulling dual duties of both directing stage productions (plays, musicals, one-person shows, etc) and teaching acting. He wouldn't be an easy professor for his expectation of perfection is only matched by his passion and his eccentric personality might make for a unique experience. Nevertheless, Nicholas will work with them if they show they are committed to the theater.