After a great attempt at volleyball Jackie was trying to find some kind of snack, a reward of sorts. The day got even better when she saw a whole station for her favorite sweet treat. Quite determined to make a perfect one, over the years she’s got it down to a science. While trying to get everything together she glanced up and smiled at the person next to her. “Oh now you need at least one more piece of chocolate on there, treat yourself!” Jackie encouraged to the friendly face next to her, “it isn’t often you run into a whole s’more’s station.”
-
THEY COULDN’T lie, they were actually, genuinely really enjoy themselves at the cookout. It was full of life and Severin had spent most of the day in the water, joined in on the game of smacking a huge beach ball back and forth, and riding the waves. Fun, but exhausting, and now he was hungry. The s’mores station caught their eye and once there and trying to concoct a top-tier s’more, he kept looking over at the redhead next to him, to get some pointers. After all, there were a lot more fancy marshmallows and an assortment of chocolates and graham cracker flavors than normal. “I think this might actually be the first time I’ve run into a s’mores station,” he laughed, and then finished off his treat with her recommended extra chocolate. Squished down into itself, it looked so good he actually didn’t want to eat it yet. He was kinda proud of himself, actually. “You know what? I think this is actually instagram worthy. Would you mind taking a picture? That extra piece of chocolate turned this into a gourmet s’more,” they chuckled.
Grayson had finished up a boring meeting, a meeting he even questioned why he had to be a part off. The male had been so busy all day that he had not had time to grab something to eat. Grayson looked at his phone for a moment before letting out a sigh of relief due to having the rest of the day free and enjoying the day. He placed his phone in his hand in his pocket and made his way to NATHAN’S HOT DOGS which was just a few feet away from him. He made his way and ordered a hot dog.
How could a New Yorker not enjoy a hot dog? Especially when they half off. It was the perfect deal. He waited and chilled not paying attention really to anything else around him. @sxperspy
-
MORNING was quickly expiring into afternoon. The dichotomy of the beach festivities, alive and exciting, and the quiet and calculating nature of Severin’s mind was palpable. In crowds, when they were not intentional, they might stick out as sore as a thumb, solely because of how their energy radiated outwards. Too concrete, too intense, against the backdrop of a cookout on the beach. Everyone in this country would know him only as Joseph Hughes, the host of New York City’s own nighttime talk show. So, then, today he was masquerading as they did every day. Giving polite smiles and making small talk where necessary, when he was recognized. Otherwise, he fell back into the intensity of his default—because he was not here to celebrate. They were here to scope out a hurdle in the way of their target. Someone they would attempt to slowly and patiently build trust with. Grayson Blakely, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The Red Wolf to be exact. Severin knew him well, though they had only ever met once prior, in passing, and chatted casually. Grayson, he hoped, would remember him. Even subconsciously. Rapport was important with these things.
This event was the perfect opportunity for Severin to extract information from Grayson, albeit unwittingly. To hide in plain sight was to be a chameleon, and the hustle and bustle of the party was enough to hide any suspicious activity. This was all planned last minute, though, because Severin hadn’t found out Grayson would be here until just an hour prior. By chance, he noticed the man by Nathan’s Hot Dogs. Swiftly, Sev acquired his own hot dog, and then very intentionally, though it would not look like it, “bumped” into Grayson, causing Grayson’s items to scatter, including the hot dog that was in the man’s hand. “Oh shit—dammit. Sorry!” they exclaimed, reaching down to help gather all the dropped items, and in the same moment slipping Grayson’s phone into his pocket, where a device waited to connect wirelessly to it and download all of its data. In his pocket, he could feel the vibration of failed login attempts in quick succession. Then, a full stop, before it locked out. In their mind, Severin cursed. Then put on his best, award-winning smile and offered the phone to Grayson, as if it had never been in his pocket for a few seconds in the first place. “Think you dropped this. Let me get you another hot dog? I’m really sorry about this, I wasn’t watching where I was going. A little too excited to eat lunch, I guess.” Sev laughed, smooth and natural.
I’VE BEEN HANGING ON FOR TOO LONG.
NO ONE REALLY KNOWS ME, AT ALL.
NOT EVERYONE can say they’ve been to the Big Apple, but SEVERIN KONARE “JOSEPH HUGHES”, a FORTY-TWO year-old AGENDER PERSON has lived in TODT HILL, STATEN ISLAND for NINE YEARS. This is the city of dreams and he knows it, because they came to NYC to be an INTERNATIONAL SUPERSPY AND TALK SHOW HOST. Living in the city means they meet all kinds of people, but everyone always seems to think they look like OMAR SY. They even got away with free cab fare once because of it!
TRIGGER WARNING! The following introduction contains potentially triggering content, such as: near death experience, espionage, foster care, family abandonment, deceit, manipulation
PREFACE. What is nobility without personal conviction? Those who find themselves revered for service to their homeland might accept award and praise graciously, but what experiences lie behind the success of mission? Losses of connection, routine — and when the months expire into years—self, blurred at the edges and seeping away from structure.
OVERVIEW
early childhood
severin konare was born under circumstances physicians would later gasp at the recollection of. in the middle of the north sea, drifting along waves that seemed to stretch endlessly out, a woman left alone on a life raft after the larger boat had sunk and taken her friends and husband with it. she drifted for weeks with her newborn, and by some miracle, that newborn survived. and only that newborn. when the raft washed up upon the normandy shore, a baby bundled up in emergency blanket scarves screamed for help, and help came. nothing was ever made of what happened to his mother, but from his beginning, severin had been an anomaly.
adolescence.
growing up in the foster system had had its drawbacks. more drawbacks than most could count. still, severin had a natural knack for mastering the things he put his mind too, and before long, he was excelling in school where even his older peers were not. he grew to develop a refined interest in sociology, and how humans and animals communicated with one another through history, and how that created the present moment that he, himself, lived in. through this, he began to notice the patterns in how people functioned, and despite having this knowledge, he never put it to good use. he was not outcasted by his peers, but rather chose to remain as an observer. it was more interesting to him to watch others interact than it was to interact with them himself, and so began his journey to mastering the science of people.
adulthood.
finding himself wrapped up in espionage had been unanticipated, and to an outsider, nobody would have ever expected he might be chosen to be one of the country’s most revered spies. it began as a conversation with a customer at the coffee shop he was working for. he had two children by this time, a wife, a home, a dog. but he did not have a career, not one that he was happy in. this opportunity to serve his country in an unconventional way fell into his lap, and it was with the understanding that no one could know what he was doing, that he took it.
on one crisp november morning, he received his first task. a local task to acquire information about a drug kingpin. he was successful, had remained completely stealth, and pulled the rug out from beneath the kingpin and their men with such poise and intricacy that severin slowly began climbing the metaphorical ranks, gaining the trust of his superiors to be tasked with higher stakes, until he found himself tasked with the highest stake of all: espionage in a different country. breaking federal laws in another country, to acquire information for his own government.
the task was daunting, but there never had been a task severin could not master. it took years of preparation—physical and mental training. training to be prepared to take a little white pill if he was caught. training to say goodbye indefinitely to the people he loved more than anything else in this world. he’d grown to value justice; value how justice had propelled forth good althroughout history, and came to understand that his actions now, would affect the lives of many to come.
this mission landed him in new york city, in a slow-burning pursuit against the criminal proceedings of the city’s mayor, and how those crimes translated back into chipping away at the french social infrastructure. with the guise of a well-known talk show host, severin would hold a reputation of someone familiar, well-liked, with a false sense of knowing. joseph hughes was known to the world for his work with charity, his love of all things reptilian, and his ability to make any situation comical. he would hide in plain sight, and nobody would know that joseph hughes had fabricated out of thin air but less than a decade prior. nobody would know that joseph hughes was not real at all, and the person behind the facade was committing a high level of treason, with his loyalties only to the french government.
—demographics.
Full Name: Severin Konare
Nickname(s): Joseph Hughes, Joe, Sev
Age: 42
Hometown: Nice, France
Current Location: Staten Island, New York City, NY
Ethnicity: Fula, Senegalese, Mauritanian
Nationality: French
Gender: Agender
Pronouns: He/him/they/them
Orientation: Biromantic, Asexual
Religion: Agnostic
Political Affiliation: No Affiliation in USA
Occupation: Talk Show Host International Superspy
Living Arrangements: Penthouse in Staten Island
Language(s) Spoken: French (native), English (fluently), Russian (fluently), Spanish (fluently), Korean (fluently), Chinese (fluently), German (semi-fluent)
Accent: American (intentional), French (natural)
—physical appearance.
Face Claim: Omar Sy
Hair Colour: Dark Brown/Black
Eye Colour: Dark Brown
Height: 6′1
Weight: 210lbs
Build: Tall and husky
Tattoos: None
Piercings: None
Clothing Style: Minamilistic
Usual Expression: Smiling, pleasant
Distinguishing Characteristics: None
—health.
Physical Ailments: None
Neurological Conditions: None
Allergies: None
Sleeping Habits: Variable depending on mission requirements
Eating Habits: Variable depending on mission requirements
Exercise Habits: Daily routine including extensive cardio and weightlifting. Regularly trains in Karate and HIIT.
Emotional Stability: 9/19
Sociability: Naturally, he is an introvert, but maintains a high sociability for his current mission despite how draining it is mentally
Body Temperature: hot-natured
Addictions: None
Drug Use: None
Alcohol Use: Seldom
—personality.
Label: The Chameleon
Positive Traits: +moral, +noble, +steadfast, +observant, +nurturing
Negative Traits: -manipulative, -secretive, -closed off, -disarming
Goals/Desires: Wants to improve his fishing ability, and return home to his family
Fears: Never seeing his family again
Hobbies: Painting, karaoke
—favorites.
Weather: Rainy, cool
Colour: Pale blue
Music: Blues and Jazz
Movies: Psychological Thrillers
Sport: Nascar racing
Beverage: Coconut milk
Food: Haako, particularly eaten during the fall
Animal: Fox
—family.
Father: Unknown
Mother: Unknown
Sibling(s): Unknown
Children: Two Daughters
Pet(s): One dog named Persephone
Family’s Financial Status: Upper Class
Kairo was usually found on the docks or at the beach in his free time, he deeply missed being on the open ocean, doing and fighting for what he loved, but unfortunately his life had other plans for him. For now he was stuck on land until he could secure himself a decent boat, none had caught his eye just yet.
Walking along the rocks he was picking up sea glass pieces for his collection of it back at his house boat. Stopping for a moment he noticed a young harbour seal up by the beach and someone walking in its direction “hey!-” he called out to them “chances are it’s just resting but watch yourself there, the parents can be quite mean” he chuckled pointing at the seal.
.
SEVERIN KNOWS NOTHING about the tide or the sand, but he often finds himself in strange places with strange people. Today that was down by the Sisyphus Stones, trying to duck his face from the one camera that observed the place for vandalization. He was slowly gravitating down the coastline, as was the person he was assigned to watch, and he should have been watching where he was going, but he could only mentally juggle so many things at once. The yell in his direction startled him a bit, made his shoulders hike in a small jump, and for a moment he felt a panic in his abdomen at potentially drawing the eyes of the exact person he didn’t want to know he was here, directly over to him. Quickly, he turned his back to that person, and instead made good use of what the universe had just handed him—an excuse to be there. A quickly crafted excuse, to talk to this stranger, while still able to see the person he was metaphorically tethered to, through peripheral vision.
“Seals, eh?” he began, with as friendly a chortle as any. “I’ve only ever seen them on documentaries.” That was a lie—he had gone deep sea diving; had learned how to survive under water for long periods of time solely for escaping tricky situations. “Didn’t think they’d make their way out here. Does the tide bring ‘em in?” This time his words were honest. He might have swam amongst them, but that didn’t mean he knew anything about them.
open starter //
if there was anything nira would NEVER get used to about living in new york, it was and would continue to be the weather. she hated it with a passion, it was either too wet, too cold, too windy, too anything and everything.. and with the extreme amounts that had fallen the last little while.. she couldn’t handle it, and had for the most part stayed at her home, hoping it would melt but no such luck… she she knew she had to get out, and after hearing about the snow clean up, and need for things for the community, she did what she could, and managed to get a fair number of blankets made up which she figured she would hand over to shelters, or for someone to give away at the soup kitchen.. anywhere really… she did her best trying to pack them nicely before she got dressed the very best she could as well, though for the amounts of snow, what winter outwear she had, it wasn’t nearly enough.. but she had no choice.. so she made her way outside, and down the street a bit.. though carrying everything all while trying to not slip, fall and break herself became far too difficult. turning her head she saw something come walking behind her.. “– pardon me.. you aren’t by chance going to the snow clean up at all–?” she asked, lifting the bags off the wet snow.
.
VENTURING OUT INTO the cold after a snow storm wasn’t exactly Sev’s idea of a great morning. If anything it actually sounded like some kind of unusual torture, but the idea of a free Broadway ticket sounded very nice. There were very few incentives to doing what had to be done with his line of work, and knowing his spy target would be at this community snow cleanup event was the primary motivator. He was hoping to be able to arrive and shovel up some snow, head down to the soup kitchen, and ideally land a spot serving a hot meal right next to said target, and then strike up a friendly, but telling, conversation. Now, living in the city for almost nine years now had given the spy some savvy when it came to the weather. He was certain the subway wouldn’t be running, and there was no way he’d risk driving, so he’d gotten crafty and put some snow cleats on, and they were clacking with every step down the small section of almost-clear road. Walking was a breeze for him at the moment, but he could tell the person in front of him was struggling, and with bags no less. Their call in his direction couldn’t have come sooner, because he was just about to offer his help. “You beat me to it—I was just about to ask you the same thing,” he chuckled, and made a gesture for the bags. “Need any help? It’s still pretty icy out here. Seems like every year, this city forgets that snow melt exists.”
Open Starter | A Shared Cab Ride across the Brooklyn Bridge at 2AM.
No matter the season, the time of day, or how many years Hayley called the city home - she’d never get tired of the view of the New York skyline. There’s an artistry to the shimmering lights and magnitude of the architecture, that always has her staring wistfully out of the car doors. Tonight is no different, save for the anonymous companion she’d run into outside of a chic restaurant in Brooklyn. After a night’s work, Hayley often availed herself of a car service. Or at the very least, an Uber Black for one. Her financial means afford her the luxury, and she’s never been one for chit-chat after winding down from a client. And yet, for a city that never sleeps, neither option worked out.
Which meant, splitting a classic New York City cab with a person going in the same direction. It is a wordless drive, safe for the indie pop album playing in the car radio. But Hayley remains fixated on the view, nostalgic and melancholic. “I’ve lived here for more than ten years. It never gets old, does it?”
.
THE EVENING HAS drawn its curtains closed and Severin is still Joseph, endlessly, like some horrible cage he can’t escape and there is nothing but the city and the knowledge that this is not his home. There is a cab that he flags down and slides into the back, and he does not expect to have a shared ride but the company is something he can’t protest against right now. It dubs for the company of long-lost family some thirty seven hundred miles away, as he can feel the yearning for their smiles and glee deep in his bones. But he knew what this job was when he agreed to it—knew that committing a federal offense in another country, espionage, for the good of his own, it would come with personal anguish. Only, he never imagined he would go almost a decade in this disguise. And the magnitude of that dawned upon him when his cab companion spoke up, and spoke of her own tenure as a resident.
It elicited a smile from the spy. After so many years of this, sometimes that felt like all he truly was anymore. There was no Severin, no Joseph. There was just his existence, and this god forsaken city, that he might have loved to live in, in some other life. Some other world. Not this one. Not this life. “It doesn’t,” he agreed, and then tilted his head to take a glance at the scene the stranger was admiring. Mimicking, really. It’d become second nature to him at this point. All of his authenticity lost and buried under mountains of masks. “Ten years is a long time to get tired of it.” He paused, and then, for a moment, the tiniest glimmer of authenticity: “Are you?” he asked, nonchalantly, though it held so much more. “Tired of it?”
Nyx hadn’t been in the best of mind the past few years, but if you asked anyone who followed her on any of her social medias, she was living the dream. After the traumatic events that led to her fleeing Great Kills, leaving her friends, family, everything she had come to love so much, she had lost herself more than she thought possible. She was very well at masking happiness, but the moment she made the decision to go home to Staten Island it was like she had been reborn again.
She smiled a wide grin, letting out a loud shriek as she walked around the familiar city full of crowds. She took in her surroundings and looked around, breathing in the crisp cold air, her eyes lit up as she noticed someone, or so she thought. She happily strolled up to the familiar body from the back, and touched their shoulder, “He-,” She shut up mid sentence as blood flushed her face. “I’m so sorry, you just reminded me of an old friend…” trailing off as she kicked her feet back and forth. She turned around and started to leave, looking back at the figure a awry smile coming back to her features.
.
THE CITY WASN’T exactly difficult to blend into the bustle of, and that’s exactly why Severin’s superiors had chosen for him to be stationed here. Every day was filled with meticulously planned endeavors, and today’s was located close to home. He’d been on his way to the Staten Island Ferry, but that was only because his target was on their way to the Staten Island Ferry. Then they’d stopped into a coffee shop, and suddenly all of that protective cover of a crowd that never ended was faltered, because any stationary silhouette in the sea would draw attention, and he could not draw attention right now.
Then something unplanned happened, that was both a deviation from the meticulous and yet something of a saving grace. A stranger caught his shoulder, and it prompted him to turn around suddenly, already immediately ready to combat if he’d been caught. Instead, he found some woman he’d certainly never seen before, but pretending he had was the perfect cover for this very moment. “Wait!” he called her back, and then drew a large smile over his features, and feigned some happy surprise. “Wait, I think I do know you. Do you live in the Island? I mean, I have a lot of neighbors but—you look very familiar.” As the small talk ensued, he took inconspicuous glances over in the direction of that coffee shop, trying to keep an eye, and ready to make up some excuse to get out of this conversation the moment they were on the move again.
"My pain threshold? I gotta be honest, chief. I'm really kind of a baby. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve broken my hand before, so I know about pain, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t holding back tears in the hospital.”
Being involved in the business of espionage, Severin actually has an extremely high pain tolerance, and has trained himself to be able to withstand torturous levels of pain without giving up information about his true business in the country. His answer is, of course, fabricated to perpetuate the persona of Joseph Hughes, and isn’t a reflection of himself truly.
Grayson looked at the other as they shook their hands and he shook his head slowly when he was mentioning who he was and how he was on Youtube. “I’m not too sure i’ve heard of it but now I know I can go home and look it up and see what I find! So then I might know you the next time bumping into you, but hopefully not actually bumping into you.” He laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh dang well a decade, dang I feel like I should’ve ran into you before now but oh well!” He said as he shrugged.
Grayson wish he could explain what music had meant to him. There was so much meaning behind it all and he had his mother to thank for making him the man that he was to this day. “Oh yeah, definitely. I collect as many records as I can get my hand on. Right now I’m working on filling the collection of things I do know and then I would move on to new artists and see what I can collect from their work as well. Do you collect or do you like to listen to them more so?” He asked.
A JOVIAL SMILE was returned to the now not-so-strange stranger, and a friendly hand found a rest on the other’s back for a moment. “Hey, that’s alright! Better late than never. Gotta promise me one thing though—if you do watch it, gotta like and subscribe. That’s practically the terms of service nowadays.” A laugh fell from his lips, and his hands found his pockets as he listened to the other explain his hobby. “A collector. Nice,” he nodded in approval. It was nice to talk about something he was actually interested in for once, instead of just what he was obligated to, to keep the show afloat.
“I mostly just listen to them. I have a small collection, but yours sounds more impressive than mine. Can I ask which artists you’ve been searching for?” He took a glance about. “I’ve been in the shop for a minute now, so I might have seen something you’re looking for.”
One of Grayson’s quirks was that he liked to collect Vinyl. He loved to hear it play on a record player and always thought it sounded better that way. He was sometimes considered an old soul and he didn’t mind that because his occupation kept the child in him alive at times. He had just walked into the store and wanted to see what they had new this week but there were people standing in front of the new stuff so he decided to explore the rest of the store like he hadn’t seen it a hundred times over and over.
He was sure that he made his way through all of the record stores in the city more than once. Because of how galvanized he was with all of the records the shop had to offer, he didn’t realize he was bumping into someone and he took a few steps after they had collided. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to. I guess I should have been looking where I was going.” Grayson said nervously as he laughed a bit and then stuck his hand out. “Hi, I’m Grayson. I don’t think i’ve seen ya before! Ya new around the city?”
.
THERE WERE VERY few things Severin could freely partake in that reflected his genuine personality—though after so many years of being undercover, he might reflect on how the lines between truth and fiction had now blurred into some indistinguishable gray, where Severin Konare could not be separated from Joseph Hughes. Sometimes the weight of it all was crushing; when the rat race of cat and mouse slowed, and in its wake was nothing but the quintessence of man—man’s humanity—what was Severin to do but try to search for the residue of himself in this foreign residence? In his chest, he missed his family. He missed his home. But he would not see his family, or be in his home, for a very long time. The closest he could get to home was this... a vinyl shop. A place where he might be able to meld into the harmonies of Charles Bradley, Stevie Vaughn, Eric Clapton. A small slice of himself, in a sea of fruition. This is what made it all worth it. Or, at least, that’s what he had to tell himself.
He was sifting through records, simply enjoying the shop’s ambiance, when another person bumped into him, and tore him from the moment. As fluid as ripple in water, he slipped back into the disguise of Joseph Hughes, and turned on charisma, taking the other’s hand in a shake. He laughed, threw his free hand over his chest, and feigned shock. “Never seen me before? I’m offended!” he exclaimed lightheartedly. “Joe Hughes. You might knowme from Goodnight New York. Kinda popular on Youtube.” He gave a curt one, two into the handshake and then let his hands find his pockets. “Nice to meet you, Grayson. I’m not. Unfortunately been in this city for almost a decade... but, you know, more people than anyone can count here. You a record-guy? Or just stopping in for a look?”
closed starter to: @shivesposito
location: benito one - little italy
THE HEAVY AROMATICS of garlic and genuine olive oil were fragrant to the point of near intoxication amongst the mood lighting of the restaurant. Even in the broad daylight of a mid-afternoon lunch, there was a certain muted atmosphere held in here. As if all the traffic outside these doors melted away, and Severin had chosen this restaurant very specifically for his meeting with Shiv. As he did with every meeting and every interaction with the mayor’s chief of staff. Everything spoken to her had to be carefully chosen to deliver the exact message he intended to, and he had to move with her, as tide does to shore, to ensure he was always getting one step closer.
His assignment had been that of longevity. After all, building and securing trust took a long time. In Shiv’s case—years. She had been one of the harder targets to crack. Amongst the few people he was spying on in the city, she’d been the one to need the most patience, and she truly had given him a run for his money. She was observant, in ways that he could find glimmers of himself within her as she looked around. And for that, she’d become a challenge. But he would be lying to himself if he’d have said she hadn’t begun to grow on him. As were the terms of his contract, getting emotionally involved was messy, but it was moments like these where he might negotiate with himself. What his true motives were when inviting her out to lunch. Was it to coax information from her? Or was it to spend time with her. He might convince himself it was always the former; the truth tended to linger in the darker, more untouched areas of his psyche.
He had priorities, ones of federal nature... but he was still human, at the end of the day. Sitting across from a woman with such authenticity as Shiv, and having to play the role of Joseph, it was no easy feat.
“Have you decided yet? The waitress tried to sell me on their carbonara before you got here... I’m not sure whether that’s a good sign or a bad one,” he quipped, lifting a brow in her direction. “Why don’t you just order for me, miss Italiana? I trust your judgment more than my own.”
“I became good at pretending. I became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. And sometimes, when I did a really good job of pretending, I even fooled myself.”
— Ruta Sepetys, Salt to the Sea
(via wordsnquotes)
