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Nicholas



"Sorry. I uh, I have a condition 'n all so the doctors gave me this. I think they set it to be much more sensitive than it should be. Archie. Anderson."

This poor is man is even more anxious than I am.

"That sounds inconvenient. Not so fond of warnings and supervision myself, these days," he nodded. "Not that I mean to imply that you shouldn't be hooked up to whatever it is. I guess I'm just.. babbling aimlessly. Nicholas. Adair."

That's what he was lacking, Nicholas decided. For all his coordination, he didn't have a true aim. He was missing a mission. So what was it going to be? He could determine that he would go back to the common areas and hunt down that girl he was staring at, pine for her affections relentlessly until he got either a giggle or a "Fuck no", or he could focus on being more proactive. Protecting all these poor parahuman youths from all of the Jell-O shots. Yes, he decided. That would be a worthy way to heroically sacrifice all of his power. After all, the two next to him seemed to be having a gay old time with their nudging and their kissin'.

Is that jealousy, I feel? After everything I've been through, am I really that petty?

Nothing a couple dozen Jell-O shots couldn't fix, he decided as he zeroed in on the rest of them. Then he felt his heart drop into his ankles as his conscience rang through him like a gunshot. Nononononono! Jell-O shots totally count. Five hundred and ninety-something days down the--! Bang. Bang. And bang. Those weren't epiphanies ringing like gunshots. Those were gunshots ringing like gunshots!

So, in a moment of clarity, he sheered himself away from the remaining Jell-O shots and shook off the lethargic weight of indifference that the last few years had coaxed him into. He felt his legs tighten but he was already bounding off the ground. He didn't so much breathe in the air so much as the air took him in. And he was leaping and crunching through twigs and sloshing through mud. As fast as he was, he couldn't help but notice that Archie, the kid with the medical device had somehow beaten him to the scene. In his almost masturbatory introspection there were a lot of things that Nic had failed to pay attention to, but failing to notice he was trailing someone he had just seen. This was a low.

I'll have to remember to feel ashamed about this later.

As he trotted up behind Anderson, he took in the schlock. It was uncomfortable. He felt his stomach warble but he tightened up his intestines, holding his posture straight and attempted to find some composure in the midst of the mess. He did feel his antennae involuntarily go erect in response to the excitement before emitting a puff of his spores. His hair was arranged to hide them in case of such an incident but the jog had somewhat tousled his mop, leaving them visible to the observant.

Not really sure what the correct course of action was, not ever having had much training in the way of triage. He wasn't really sure that there was anything that he could do. Wait a fucking second. I just met these people. How did something already go wrong?"

So he made his way over to the smart-looking girl. She sounded like she was taking charge. He only caught the wounds teleport and wound. Obviously he didn't belong here. Then again, no one did. "I seem to have missed the party but I heard noise so I followed Anderson. Is there anything obvious that I can do to help?"
Alright, my guys. I gotta lot of catching up to do. Has anything had much to do with the X-Men side of things happened outside of Maxx's and Doc's posts?
Nicholas



The drink weighing in his hand, Nic reminded himself that he was 593 days sober and that it would literally take the better part of two more years to rebuild this streak. But did it really count if it was in Jell-O? Maybe? No? Of course not. It's Jell-O. And so, having found a compromise that allowed him to maintain his streak and indulge his inner demons without looking like a square, he slurped it down before he even realized that he'd made a decision.

Following Gen's little discovery of Cara's miracles, Nic elbowed him in the ribs and chuckled.

"Gen. Lynn. Amelia and Keaton. Got it," he lied, unable to tell which was supposed to be which, Gen notwithstanding. Though he was suddenly feeling generally more confident. "Pleased to meet the lot of you." In an attempt to slyly match names with faces, he asked "Say, Lynn. Is that short for something? Like Caitlyn or Evelyn or.. anything to that effect? I've been told I have an Aunt Linda who sometimes goes by Lin but I suppose that's really neither here nor there."

"As for what brought me here. That's a fantastic question." Rather than saying that he had clearly been railroaded here in a conspiracy by the fates or describing his angst, he shot from the hip: "I was asking myself the same thing a second ago. I honestly think it's just one of those things where it's really complicated but it isn't all that interesting. So, I dunno," he waved his empty vessel in a wide arc before briefly eyeing the rest of them and attempting to calculate how many he could handle before it would actually break his sobriety streak.

"In short: Just thinking. Trying to lose myself or maybe, I dunno, find myself, I guess. But instead I wandered into this party. With all the stuff going on around the place I feel really bad for everybody and would love to help improve morale but, I guess, partying isn't really something I've ever done much of. This is all new ground for me."

Then he noticed that, besides Gen, there was another dude. One with a date, a posh little brunette who looked.. equally as pretty as all the other girls. Huh? This can't reasonably be beer/Jell-O goggles. Could it? Either the Jell-O shot should definitely have counted or there was an unusually high ratio of gorgeous to person in this particular cluster of people.

Then the other dude seemed to lose himself. "Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry." Unsure as to what was happening, Nic skirted over to come to his aid.

"Hey. Are you okay, man?"
@GreenGrenade Likewise, my good man.
Ernuoblem, Ailartsua

"My dear Dark Patty, how I wish that we weren't meant to be. How I wish that you would be envenomed by The Brotherhood of Evil Kangaroos or fall into a wombat's web." As he sat atop his Kleenex throne, his nexus of power, he looked down upon his domain, his castle founded atop both the literal bones of his ancestors and fallen foes alike. Dark Jace had slain many foes but two eluded his grasp. First of all, was Dark Patty, the annoyingly attractive dame whose aloof nature ensured that his heart was always in tatters. One of the few things that made him shed some of the precious tears that his other enemy, Regular Jace, had shed before him.

He'd kill Regular Jace, that fucking asshole of an imposter, if it didn't mean that he'd never have the opportunity to harvest RJ's tears again. That would mean he'd never grow more powerful. And that was unacceptable. Once he'd thought that perhaps he could just keep Regular Jace in a dungeon. In fact, he had kept RJ in his dungeon once, torturing him day in and day out to harvest those tears. But it ultimately seemed to stimulate his pancreas more than it stimulated his tear glands. Upon realizing that Regular Jace could accidentally make his own life more insufferable than Dark Jace could ever achieve, he decided to set him free.

"Pathetic weakling. My bowels are the most tolerant of them all!"

But as of late, Dark Jace had noticed a disturbing pattern. The tears were both less abundant and less potent than they had been. Was Regular Jace's quality of life improving? Or was his health failing? Neither possibility would bode well for Dark Jace's power levels. Therefore, it would seem that Dark Jace would have to intervene in Regular Jace's life, to ensure that he could continue his ascension until one day he could commemorate his apotheosis by being inducted into The Brotherhood of Evil Kangaroos, as its' first non-marsupial member.

And so, transforming into a salt-rich mist, he floated through his castle halls before breezing before his enchanted mirror, the same glass that he had used to cross between worlds many times before.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, show me the most basic bitch of them all."

And it did just so.

"Excellent." Dark Jace cooed. At that, he crossed over the dimensional boundary and dispersed into Regular Jace's bedroom before gradually condensating as a puddle on the floor, one that would gradually reassemble itself underneath RJ's bed.
Nicholas



Nicholas Adair had several possible outcomes in mind when he left the dance to venture into the woods. Perhaps he would've lost his gumption to ever return to society. He figured he may have just kept walking until he flattened himself into a stain on the inside of The Promise's hull. With luck, maybe he could've been the first human to be consumed by the ship's indigenous squirrels. Or, ever so slightly more realistically, he'd get killed in the next unscrupulous incident aboard the ship.

Maybe it said something about his character that in attempting to escape his own perspective and anxieties, telling himself he wanted to be alone, he actually seemed to have zeroed in on a group of teenagers who looked like they were pregaming for shooting a slasher film. Pretty girls. Dudes who were.. well, dudes. He didn't hold any strong opinions toward their appearance but saw one who looked like even more of a fish out of water than he did.

Piercing his internal monologue as though it was cast in hot wax, a voice like a siren, blistering with clarity called out to him. "Hey you! Want a shot?" But there was no one in front of him, he was yards away from anybody. Then he saw her, a dark haired angel. For the first time since he'd boarded the ship, it really felt like he was tumbling through space.

She was looking at him. Had he been staring at her and zoning out at the same time? Nic didn't know that people could do that. Then again, he wasn't used to being around people his own age without the explicit instructions of running surveillance. Surveillance! That's it! His subconscious had made him focus on the girl and analyze her. That made sense. Well... it almost made sense. If that were the case he didn't understand why he hadn't inferred anything meaningful about her. God, I'm an idiot.

After he had hung his smile slack-jawed for a minute, trying to unravel his own web of dumbassery, he felt the first real duchenne of the day roll across his lips and curl his eyes.

"Why, thank you! I can't think of anything that sounds better right now."

And it was true. Just a little something to take the edge off would be nice. If he just shaved off the progress he'd spent the last two years making, it'd mean that he wouldn't pose a threat to the partygoers and it would mean that he would finally be normal. Kinda. Being abnormal was part of what qualified you as belonging here so in a cruel twist of fate it would actually make him the deviant.

Fuck it. It always seemed inevitable that I'd rinse myself out up here anyhow. I thought I could rise above my former crutch, that I'd overcome it, but nothing sounds sweeter than the sour sting of surrender as my darling depressants fix me, just for a bit.

"nah man, the alcohol was part of the old you. Just hang in there. Think about it from your perspective from tomorrow. You'll have overcome this. You'll be stronger.

I am so unbelievably sick of thinking of things from different perspectives. How cruel it is that my penchant for empathy serve as my penance.

He continued to think about it entirely too hard as he cleared the ground that stood between him and the girl that had invited him. She looked like a dream. He approached her with his head down, mildly shy before beaming at her, scooping up one of the Jello shots and holding it inches away from his chin. The gelatinous drink felt more structurally sound than his own willpower right now, he thought as it weighed upon his forearm like a dumbbell, burning in his hand like the sort of confession you only make when it's too late to make a difference.

"My name is Nicholas but people tend to like Nic better. I hope that the evening has been kind to you."
Name: Dark Jace

Age: Negative Twenty-Three

Character Bio: When Jace looks in the mirror, he sees this guy. Sometimes this guy even steps out of the mirror. He looks just like Jace, except he's gaunt with scarlet eyes. Just like regular humans are made mostly out of water, Dark Jace is mostly made out of Jace's tears. For that reason, he can both literally and figuratively be described as pretty generally salty when compared with the real thing. For every personal defeat regular Jave faces in life, Dark Jace will grow stronger. While DJ doesn't really have IBS, all of the crying it causes Jace to do results in power gains of greater or equal value.
<Snipped quote by Nightrunner>
I just have a couple of questions regarding your thought process during the creation of this concept.

1) Have you read the Jace lorebook? How well-versed are you in the Jaceverse's lore?

2) Given that he is essentially Jace's dark reflection, does this mean that he doesn't have IBS? Have you thought about what this means for his power level, considering that Jace's IBS is the source of his power?


1) I have not but I have skimmed the Wikipedia page

2) For every personal defeat regular Jave faces in life, Dark Jace will grow stronger. While DJ doesn't really have IBS, all of the crying it causes Jace to do results in power gains of greater or equal value.
Name: Dark Jace

Age: Negative Twenty-Three

Character Bio: When Jace looks in the mirror, he sees this guy. Sometimes this guy even steps out of the mirror. He looks just like Jace, except he's gaunt with scarlet eyes. Just like regular humans are made mostly out of water, Dark Jace is mostly made out of Jace's tears. For that reason, he can both literally and figuratively be described as pretty generally salty when compared with the real thing. For every personal defeat regular Jave faces in life, Dark Jace will grow stronger. While DJ doesn't really have IBS, all of the crying it causes Jace to do results in power gains of greater or equal value.
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