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  1. Cass paused, momentarily taken aback by the fact that an aura of tension was now emanating from a decidedly different direction. She couldn't help the flush that stole into her cheeks as the radiant young man greeted them, and something in the back of her mind casually reminded her that she'd already been involved with one nova, so it wasn't as if it would be strange... "Um," she fumbled for words, grinning somewhat self-consciously and tucking a dark brown curl behind one ear. "Yeah, we'll catch up later. I'm just going to go check on Pops, and see how smoking the- how hot- I mean-" Blushing furiously and cursing herself for her lack of composure in front of 'Bastian, Infinity, and the gorgeous young man, she edged away from Ms. Ruthie's porch. "Thanks for the lemonade, ma'am," she murmured politely, feeling her cheeks burning as she hastily merged back into the crowd.
  2. "Infinity," Cassandra repeated shakily, setting her cup on the steps and brushing off the back of her shorts as she rose to greet the pair. The girl looked young, Cass decided, maybe college-aged, and Sebastian... still looked exactly the same, which was to say, huge. Inwardly, she wondered exactly how the two had met, given the girl's overall "disaffected youth" vibe. A concert, maybe? She returned the crooked smile with one of her own, and shoved her hands into her back pockets for lack of anything better to do with them. It kept her from fidgeting, at least, and watching Infinity fiddle with her cigarette, she almost wished she'd taken up smoking. "It's nice to meet you," she breathed finally, silently willing Bastion to just go away. Being this close to him was like standing in a vacuum, with all the air sucked out of her lungs and the dull thud of her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Grimly setting her jaw, she forced herself to smile. "I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse 'Bastian. He sometimes forgets little details, like the fact that he wasn't actually raised by wolves." The dark-eyed woman turned, and if looks could kill, well, Bastion in all his nigh-invulnerable glory might not be dead, but he'd probably wish he was. "Pops invited me, 'Bastian," she said quietly, a knife-edge of bitterness underlying the evenness of her tone. "Not my boss. If you really want to have this discussion later, that's fine, but I would hate to embarrass you in front of your new friend, and I'm pretty sure Mrs. Ruthie doesn't need to hear it, either." That little twinge of guilt rose up again, for the pale girl standing on the sidelines of their ongoing conflict, and for everyone else who'd been sucked into their messy, melodramatic battles over the past couple of years. She prayed they'd understand, and that this time the furniture casualties would be kept to a minimum.
  3. The sound of the decade-old fan oscillating behind her on Mrs. Ruthie's porch, the distant, incomprehensible thump of a half-dozen stereos overlapping into nonsense, the delighted shrieks of children, the whoops and yells surrounding the dancers and the turntables... The sweet-sour taste of icy lemonade on her tongue and the smell of more spice and meat and smoke in a one-block radius than the public health agencies would ever condone... Yeah, it was summer. Cass smiled, tipping back her cup for another sip as she stretched her legs out. The cracked concrete steps weren't exactly comfortable, but when Mrs. Ruthie offered you a taste of her own home-made lemonade because you ambled along with her back to her shady front porch, you didn't argue. She glanced over her shoulder as the rocking chair creaked, unable to resist a grin as the elderly woman's cotton-topped head bobbed along to the beat. A styrofoam plate laden with barbecued chicken, potato salad, and baked beans was quickly disappearing, and Cass wondered secretly where it was all going. The opening of a second wound in reality made her wince, and she felt a guilty twinge of relief that one of the novas stepped back through it and promptly vanished: relief because it meant one less superhuman to potentially cause these people a lot of grief, and guilt because she hadn't even known who it was. She hadn't counted on dealing with novas... well, apart from 'Bastian, anyway... and it set her slightly on-edge. Sure, there were decent novas out there, even a few locally, but it always seemed that the terrorists were the only ones getting publicity. "Don't worry," Pops had told her over the phone. "It's jus' gonna be a few close friends and acquaintances, nothin' fancy. Don't worry about gettin' all gussied up, just come on by!" Yeah, right, she grinned to herself. She owed him for that, she mused, scanning the throngs of people. As she twisted the ring on her finger, still uncomfortable for its unfamiliarity, she tossed her dark curls back over her shoulder, grimacing at the tickle of a bead of sweat rolling down the back of her neck. There. She froze, feeling suddenly warmer despite the fan, the breeze, the lemonade, and her pretty yellow tank-top and denim shorts. She wasn't ready for this, and her cheeks burned hot as she watched her ex-lover part the crowd of people. The fact that he was with the whitest white-girl she'd ever seen only dimly registered, but their path was obvious. They were moving towards her, both of them, and she took a long swallow of lemonade, wishing fervently it was something stronger.
  4. Originally Posted By: BombshellYes, some people are fine with playing new novas who just erupted, moderately experienced ones, or even baselines. Just a note, it's not actually possible to play a baseline in MCoH. This character is an NPC, with special permission- to gain XP, and accomplish anything of note, she would have to erupt and become a Nova. I can't benefit either way, but my personal opinion is that creation should stay as-is. It's not about "winning" and being the biggest/strongest/smartest/sexiest, or whatever, it's about the stories you write and how your character develops. As far as I've ever been able to tell in a fiction-driven setting, NP/XP is only useful to figure out what your character can actually do, and help provide info when IC conflicts do arise.
  5. I'm just curious, but why would she remove it for public forums? So that baselines don't see it? (This is Vivi, by the way.) Because that, on its own, is hilarious.
  6. Birth Name: Cassandra Fiorella Salvatore Identity: Public Nick Names: Cass Aliases: None Occupation: Personal assistant to the Governor of California Legal Status: Citizen of the U.S. with no criminal record Marital Status: Single Known Relatives: Emilio Salvatore (Father), Caroline Salvatore (nee Hearst) (Mother) Group Affiliation: State of California Concept: Baseline NPC Nature: Caregiver Eruption: None. Cassandra Salvatore is a baseline human. DoB: November 05, 2000 Gender: Female Ethnic Background: Caucasian (Mediterranean) Nationality: American Height: 5’ 5” Weight: 130lbs Eye Color: Brown Hair Color: Dark Brown Handedness: Right Distinguishing Marks: None General Appearance: By baseline standards, Cassandra is stunning, with a warm, easy smile and accessibility lacking in many similarly attractive women. Next to most novas, however, she seems merely “pretty” by comparison. Her career life requires that she spend a great deal of time in professional attire, and she takes great pains to ensure that her wardrobe is fashionable and modern, without succumbing (much) to the temptation of indulging in many of the newer trends. She has grown accustomed to being in the public eye, both as a result of her former romance with Sebastian “Bastion” Stone and her position at the governor’s office, and is thus very conscientious about maintaining her appearance. She lives in constant dread of the day she finds a picture of herself alongside other prominent LA women in one of the local tabloids captioned, “Caught Without Makeup! Tragedy!” Strength Level: With the assistance of furniture sliders, she can push her entertainment center from one part of the living room to the other. Personality: Cass is ambitious, driven, and all but married to her job. Politically, her views are generally rather conservative; fortunately, she isn’t required to toe a particular party line, since she isn’t involved in the actual business of government herself. She is, however, openly opposed to the propaganda of Teras, viewing the majority of its adherents as little more than terrorists at worst, and nova supremacists at best. In her mind, no race, creed, gender, religion, or sexual preference grants “superiority” over another, and novas are no exception. She is also, by contrast, a vocal supporter of individuals who have truly been wronged, or are genuinely in need, and cannot acquire the assistance they need on their own. She is organized, meticulous, and an excellent planner as well as a good listener, but despite “having it all together…” she really doesn’t. If she were half as good at managing her own life as she is at handling everyone else’s, she’d be a force to be reckoned with for certain. Interests: Wine, interior decorating magazines, politics, shopping, long walks in the park, dancing, gourmet coffee, live sporting events Background: Cassandra’s history is, by and large, completely average. She had an unremarkable California public education, with busy but affectionate parents, and took the customary year off from school before attending university. She never completed her degree, however, as her Uncle Marco was kind enough to tell her about a vacancy in the Administrative department at the State Capitol. She could touch-type, take dictation, and manage her own productivity, and she looked fantastic in business skirts and heels. Before long, she was the Governor’s secretary, and shortly after that, he dismissed his personal assistant and gave her the position. Naturally, everyone assumed the worst (including his wife!), and many still do, but no one’s been able to prove any wrongdoing thus far, and she’s quickly become one of the most efficient, hard-working, no-nonsense members of his staff. If her work alone wasn’t enough to make the public aware of her, getting involved with the nova called “Bastion” was. In June of 2025, however, rumors circulated that the two had split. This was confirmed in July of the same year, when Cassandra made a public statement announcing her separation from the ex-hero. Since then, she has declined interviews on the subject, and is reputed to have rekindled a romance with her former fiancé,’ Fullback Erik Eisen, of the Seattle Seahawks. Physical: Strength ●●, Dexterity ●●●, Stamina ●● Athletics ●, Brawl ●, Drive ●, Endurance ●●●, Firearms ●, Martial Arts ●, Resistance ●●● Mental: Perception ●●●, Intelligence ●●●, Wits ●● Academics ●●●, Awareness ●●, Biz ●, Bureaucracy ●●●, Computer ●, Linguistics ●, Rapport ●●●, Social: Charisma ●●●, Manipulation ●●, Appearance ●●●●● Etiquette ●●, Style ●●●, Subterfuge ● Merits: None Flaws: None Backgrounds: Allies ●●, Backing ●●● (California Governor's office), Contacts ●●●, Influence ● (California politicians), Resources ●●● Willpower: ●●●● Freebies Spent on: 1 WP (2pts), 1 Att (4pts), 2 Abils (4pts), 5 BGs (5pts) (15pts total)
  7. Grimacing at the alcoholic haze around Bastion, Cassandra shook her head and took a step back, arms resolutely folded over her ample chest. "No," the dark-haired beauty replied, her eyes burning bright with barely-concealed anger as she stared up at the hulking novus. "I don't want you to clean it up. Let's not break up the pattern we've established, hm?" She sighed, re-knotting the belt of her robe and downing the remaining wine in her glass. Tomorrow was going to be a very long day. "I'm not paying your way through life, 'Bastian. If you want to be a nobody forever, that's fine. If you don't want to do anything worthwhile, that's fine. You're just not going to do it on my dime anymore. I love you," she said seriously, the ghost of a smile passing across her lips. "But I can't help you." She turned, carefully picking her way across the outer edge of the room until she reached the hallway. "I'm going to bed," she murmured over her shoulder as she paused. "If you need a place for the night, you can use the couch. That's the best I can do." For a moment, it seemed there might be more, some hesitation. She shook her head and limped into her room, closing the door quietly behind her. "Good night, 'Bastian," she sighed, rummaging for her first-aid kit before collapsing back onto her bed.
  8. It's amazing how quickly the pendulum of a person's heart can swing from one emotion to another. In Cass's case, the heart-stopping terror of having a man come smashing through her patio doors, right through the middle of her living room switched to volcanic rage as soon as Bastion opened his mouth. "You-" she began, her voice trembling as violently as her outstretched hand, one finger pointing accusingly at the drunken wreck of a man. "You want rent money?" she hissed. "Rent money. You destroyed my house for rent money?" Her voice rose appreciably in volume as her lovely face contorted in anger. "I just gave you your rent money on the third, 'Bastian, and now you're telling me you need six fucking grand? Are you out of your mind?" Cass ranted, clambering down away from the wall and the back of the couch. When the first shard of glass broke beneath her bare foot, she stopped short of her goal, closing her eyes and compressing her lips into a thin line of anger and pain. "Get out," she whispered, still shaking, but superficially calm. Even her voice was eerily neutral as she spoke, opening her eyes to meet Bastion's gaze. "I'm not doing this anymore. For the last four months I've paid your bills, cleaned up your messes, pretended not to mind that you're only ever here anymore when you've been drinking and you want an easy lay. I thought I could help you. I thought if I loved you, it might be enough." She exhaled slowly, reaching down to extract the piece of glass from her foot with a pained wince; not only did it hurt, it was going to be a hell of a chore to clean up. "It's not. You're not doing anything with your life, and I... I can't keep this up. I need more from a man than-" With a sigh, she swept one arm in an arc, indicating the demolished glass and furniture. "Than this. I'm sorry, 'Bastian, but I want you to leave."
  9. 3613 Mulholland Drive. Monday, June 16th, 2025. 10:26pm. Clouds of fragrant steam billowed lazily through the small but immaculate bathroom, the heat and moisture condensing into tiny droplets of water on the slate-colored travertine tile that adorned the walls. Soft lamplight illuminated the vague shape of a woman showering behind frosted glass, raking her hands back through the long, dripping curtain of her hair as she arched her back to savor the spray pouring down from overhead. Rivulets of clear water streamed down over her tawny skin, rinsing away the frothy mounds of jasmine-scented bubbles that veiled her curves; the echo of subdued music reverberated soothingly against the stone, eliciting an occasional murmur from the bathing woman as she hummed along. When she had finished, a plush, ivory bath sheet and a glass of Merlot awaited her, and Cassandra Salvatore sighed in complete contentment. Her dark hair was quickly combed and twisted behind her head, while the towel lay abandoned over the back of a chair. She was still naked and flushed from the heat of the shower as she walked barefoot into the living room, hips swaying as she sipped her wine and padded across the hardwood floor. Drowsily, she set the wineglass on an endtable and shrugged into the white silk robe draped over the arm of the couch. Sparing herself an impish giggle, she fell bodily backwards onto the overstuffed cushions and caught the remote as it bounced up into her hand. "Let's see," she sighed, squirming until she was completely comfortable. The wine was within arm's reach, the movie (a new romantic comedy about three roommates involved in a love triangle) was about to start, and her weekly date with herself was well underway. "It's not like I'm going to get any other kind of date, anyway," she groused irritably, downing another sip of ruby heaven and switching the movie on.
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