#nktstarter

"So the blood drive will be over there and food donations will be on the opposite side," Natalie explained, pointing out where things were to be set up by her volunteers. "Clothing, toys and household items will all have areas back there. And the two tables up front will be for monetary donations and signing up for services like repair work, cleaning, childcare, etc. for any of the victims' families during this time. So finish setting up the different booths and make signs designating your areas and what can and cannot be donated according to these lists," she finished saying, handing out papers to everyone before sending them on their way. She turned to the next person who was coming up. "Hi. Here to help out?"

[ open starter. ]

open starter

“You ever think it’s funny,” Malakai mused aloud, mostly to himself but just loud enough for someone nearby to catch, “how people throw parties to celebrate time passing?” His tone wasn’t harsh— just curious, like the thought had snuck up on him and wouldn’t let go. He shifted, straightening as his hands slid into the pockets of his worn jacket. “Feels more like celebrating an achievement that’s inevitable. Time keeps moving whether we do or not.” He glanced toward the clock with a faint smirk. “But I guess there are worse ways to spend it.”

Mor didn’t look up right away. Nocturne was loud tonight—not in sound, but in pulse. Magic brushing skin. Secrets leaning too close. The kind of night where bad decisions put on perfume and call themselves destiny. She stood at the bar like she owned the air around it, one elbow resting against dark wood polished by decades of spilled drinks and whispered confessions. Then someone stepped into her orbit. Too close to be accidental. Close enough that Mor felt it before she saw it—the shift, the weight, the quiet wrongness or rightness of a presence brushing hers. She turned slowly, eyes sharp, expression unreadable, a smile ghosting her mouth like it hadn’t decided yet whether to be kind.

Kynari didn’t mean to say it out loud. That was the problem. “You’re gonna wanna step back,” she said, eyes flicking to the person she’d just run into—too close, too sudden, static already buzzing under her skin. One headphone hung loose around her neck, the other still blasting something angry and loud. “Not because I’m rude. Just because every time I get this feeling, something goes sideways.” She laughed, quick and a little sharp, like she was joking. Like this wasn’t the exact moment her pulse started syncing with a future she didn’t consent to. Fingers flexed at her side, grounding, counting breaths. “Hi,” she added, softer now, studying them like a puzzle with missing pieces. “Sorry. If you’re about to tell me this is a bad time—yeah. I know. It usually is.”

Dusk lingered outside a late-night café, city lights reflecting off rain-slick pavement, a paper cup warming her hands. She eyed the person hovering nearby—same look she’d seen a hundred times, half-lost, half-thinking. “Before you ask,” she said, dry and calm, “I’m not waiting on anyone, not about to start a fight, and I do bite—but only if provoked.” A beat. Then, softer, almost amused, “You look like you could use a minute of quiet. You can borrow mine if you want.”