Ada Condeescu
Name: Nina Cohen
Gender: Female, in a Female Body
Place of Birth: Bucharest
Age: 14 (but it's complicated)
Aliases: Alina Fischer (birth name of her body)
Origin: mental
Grade: Freshman
Team: Ares
Dating: Ew. Just ew.
Powers and Abilities: Telekinesis on line of sight or touch. Possession of living and nonliving things on line of sight or touch. Regeneration of anything living or nonliving while possessed by her.
Portrayed by: Ada Condeescu

My memory comes in gusts, little fragments, like broken dishes scattered in dark water. There’s probably a reason for that. I’m a thief. I’m trying to get better, but it comes naturally when you’re telekinetic. Your gift from God is making people’s things leave their pockets. That’s why I stole. Not because we were starving, although we were. Not out of any sense of getting justice from the oppressing classes, as my father would have said. I stole because I could. Because I’m me. Because I had…and have… the gifts I have. Because I was good at it. It complicated Mother’s life, I remember that. She was trying to find me a husband. There weren’t many takers. Bad market for husbands, especially then.%r%rPicture this. I’m on a ship. Coming to America, and I’m peeking through the doors into the first class dining saloon. The ceiling is a perfectly white tin ceiling, with swirls and swoops and designs in it, hung every meter or so with a beautiful brass electric lamp with a white glass shaped like a giant acorn at the bottom. The sun is streaming in the windows over green upholstered furniture, plush carpeting, ornately carved walls, and beautifully white painted ironwork. Each table was set with a pristine white lace tablecloth, white napkins and sparkling, gold rimmed china with the logo of the White Star line in emerald, and the most elegant shapes I’d ever seen. I had to have them, a cup and a saucer. They weren’t the first thing I used my telekinesis to steal. Just wait until the busboy came by collecting the china and zip zip. One cup, one saucer. I was in love. That was probably my sin, as much as actually stealing them: that I fell in love with the beauty of things. Take notes. This becomes important later.

The next part, I don’t honestly remember. Or more exactly, I do remember, but my memory of it and yours are probably the same, both from the same movie. See, our ship hit an iceberg and sank with a thousand souls on board. Including mine, bound by love to that cup and that saucer. Maybe you’ve heard of the Titanic. I remember the water being very, very cold, and the shock of it when I first breathed it in, floating up against the ceiling, still clutching my cup and saucer. That’s the only moment I know was real. The rest? James Cameron. %r%rWhat’s it like being dead? Pretty boring, like Wakko Warner said. There’s no sense of time. Things… just happen, one after the other, and how long went between them there’s no way to know. The dead can’t give you the time of day. Even if we wanted to. Anyway, I learned to possess fish. It’s about as exciting as it sounds. One moment… however long it was… I was me… whatever that was. The next, I could feel the cold water on my gills, see in the water. Often as not some fucking thing I never saw ate me after that. Flash of teeth, crunch of bone mortally painful tearing feeling and blip. I’m a teacup again. There wasn’t much choice of fish. It’s dark down there. I could only possess fish that nosed my teacup. I learned to patch them up a little, slowly, if I had time. Not sure if that’s part of telekinesis or possessing them. It works. I don’t look at it too hard. Fish don’t die of old age. I know that much. Or maybe I’m really bad at being a fish.

Next memory. Something touched my teacup. A machine. Blip. I became the machine, looking down at my teacup, my belly full of men, like the whale after he ate Jonah. Compressed air, too. I didn’t realize it then, but now that I recall it, it felt like having gas. Wisely, I retreated to my teacup. No idea how to drive a submarine. They were brand new when we sank, still experimental, and as a poor, half-starved Romanian Jew waiting for her ship to leave for America from Ireland, I’d certainly never seen one, or even read about them. Thank James Cameron though. Without him, my teacup would probably still be at the bottom of the Atlantic. Where it goes, I go. So up I went.%r%rI hid for a long time. It’s not hard, when you’re a teacup and saucer. How’s that work? I don’t really know. I wasn’t that up on Kabbalah. I might have understood better what happened to me if I was. I know Ibbur and Dybbuk, and that’s all. I want to be an Ibbur. I’m probably more of a Dybbuk. Here in America, you’d probably call me a poltergeist. I can be destructive. I can be violent. I try not to. My stay in Sheol was hard enough. Also very cold and wet. I’d like to not stay there permanently%r%r.Anyway. That’s about as much mysticism as I’m likely to spew. I don’t know much about it, Jewish or otherwise. My memory’s such a mess that I doubt I’d remember if I did know much about it. More on that in a minute.%r%rThe rest of the story is pretty short. A rat got into the museum. I possessed him and got outside. Ugh. I’ve eaten truly unspeakable things. Fathered a hundred rat pups. A cat got him, and I possessed the cat. I know what my own butthole tastes like. Bleah. Cat got hit by a car… fuck that hurt… and damaged way beyond anything I could repair. Alina pulled me out of the road.%r%rAlina was… well, you’re looking at her. Skinny, tall, Romanian like me, lots of tattoos. Spiky hair. I remember noticing that in my half-dead cat mind. Spikey. Mostly I was focused on patching my cat body up enough to not die again. She took me home.

Picture this. She lived, squatted really, in a boarded up house in the bad part of town. What town, I couldn’t tell you. They didn’t give the Titanic artifacts advance notice of our tour itinerary. A little consideration for your haunted artifacts, please, but no. So bad part of town. No streetlights. The house stunk of urine and feces. It was dark and cold, and the floorboards threatened to fall out from under us at any given moment. My kitty ears picked up the living things in the house, and I could see their heat. More people. Stink of cigarette smoke. The sounds of mice. Maybe, if I could pull my kitty body back together enough, I might at least have plenty to eat.%r%rCats don’t do deep contemplation. Cats are stupid. They have an attention span of only a few seconds. Still, one thing I was sure of. This was not the America I’d dreamed of. I didn’t really expect the streets to be paved with gold, but I wasn’t prepared for how hard America’s poor live. Or maybe just the kind of people you find squatting in a condemned house in the bad part of town, I don’t know. So many things I don’t know. So many details I’m missing.%r%rI was still paralyzed from mid-chest down, and my spectacular tail hung limp and useless, broken in places I was glad I couldn’t feel yet. If I could somehow stay alive, I might have gotten some feeling back down there. Might have curled my spectacular tail around her arm in appreciation.%r%rI never got the chance. There was an argument. Someone else in the house. Bright flare of his body heat. He wasn’t tall. Scruffy face. Pretty sure he’s Caucasian, although in cat vision we’re all the same color. I heard heard him yell “Alina.” That’s how I found out her name. I thought it was ‘bitch’ at the time. Cat brain. No English. I know better now. Flash of a gun, and the infernal thunderclap. Sound of a body falling through my ringing ears. I saw it all. I’ll know him if I see him again, even without cat vision. He’ll be sorry I’ve been watching as much Star Wars and Stranger Things as I have. He killed her and left her for the mice. I’ll make him sorry for what he did. She was kind to kitty-me. She deserved better than what she got. This is my sin. This is my grave, new sin that somehow I have to atone for. This is the new thing I’ve stolen.%r%rBlood pulsed out of her forehead in a stream like a water faucet. She wasn’t breathing, but she wasn’t dead yet. She’d been kind to me, and I wanted to save her if I could. And I could but…only from the inside.%r%rThat was a mistake. A bad one. You might think boarding the Titanic in 1912 was bad. This was worse. There wasn’t time. She couldn’t have responded anyway. But I should have asked permission, or just watched her die and let her go and gone back to my teacup when the kitty died. But I didn’t. I was full of rage and hurt, and I wasn’t going to let her go to Sheol. I just took a deep breath with my kitty lungs (about a cup full) and possessed her.%r%rHer body was convulsing, heart thrashing like mad, and only through my agency did she take her next breath. There were no words, just deadly combat between us. I tried. I honestly tried to make her understand. I wasn’t here to harm her. I was trying to keep her from dying. She’d been kind to me. I wanted her to live. But she wouldn’t accept me. Couldn’t just let me help her. I tried anyway By the time I’d gotten the bleeding under control and the seizures had stopped, she’d let go, her soul had gone on to wherever unattached souls go, and I was alone in the world, in a body that wasn’t mine. I don’t know much else about Alina except her name. There wasn't much of her brain left. It's growing back, which makes my job easier, but it's blank. And what memories she had left are now part of me. And I can't tell where my old self ends and she begins anymore. There's no 'we' Just me. And I'm not who I was.

I had more stealing to do. I stole my teacup and saucer from the museum. Theft is easy when you’re a telekinetic. It doesn’t bear recounting, and I’m not proud of it, but nobody got hurt. Likewise it doesn’t bear recounting that Alina’s enemies… whoever she owed, whoever hated her enough to shoot her are still out there, and I was acutely aware of this. I left Detroit… I learned the city’s name as I was leaving… as soon as I could, hitchhiking, reading when I had the chance, eating when I could find something. I was out a year before you found me. Now I’m here.%r%rSo. What can I do, you ask? Why am I at a school for powers?%rBecause I am Nina Cohen’s ghost, I’m telekinetic. Always was. Still am, despite everything.%rBecause I am Nina Cohen’s ghost, I speak Russian, and Yiddish.%rBecause I am Nina Cohen’s ghost, I’ve been known to steal things. I’m good at it. I’m trying to quit.%rBecause I stole Alina’s body, I also speak English. One of few memories that turned out to be good to add.%rBecause I am Nina Cohen’s ghost, and because I have a sense of humor and telekinesis, I’m indistinguishable from a poltergeist. I call myself a poltergeist. The Poltergeist, if you’re looking to pay licensing royalties. No relation to the Spielberg film. He should pay me, right?%r%rBecause I am the poltergeist, I can possess the living. Animals… people… bacteria in theory. Bad people maybe. Good people, I have to ask first. That’s what a proper Ibbur does, according to Wikipedia. Humans are dangerous for me. I might not win the battle of wills to take them over, and wind up back in my teacup. I can only go back to Alina if I can see her, and teacups don’t have eyes. Even if I do win, if I touch the person’s memory, it becomes my memory too.. Thank you, no.%rBecause I am a poltergeist, once I posses a living thing, I can make it heal in ways it couldn’t without me, even wounds that should kill it. I can also keep it alive unless things get truly stupid. Run over someone with a steam roller, and there’s nothing I can do for or with them. Yuck. Not sure how this works. It might be a telekinesis thing. Might be part of the poltergeist stuff. I mean, the demons in Supernatural do it, and they came from folklore someplace, right? Maybe? I’m grasping for straws here.%rBecause I am a poltergeist, I’m much more likely to wind up back in my teacup, somewhere very safe, than I am to wind up for real dead and consigned to Sheol. Unless you break the teacup. I’m not sure what happens then. I might wind up consigned to Sheol for eternity, and frankly I’d rather not. Been there, done that, and it was cold, wet, and lonely.%rBecause I am a poltergeist, I can also possess things. When I possess something I can do all the things it can do without human input. If it has power steering, power brakes, a dash cam, and an engine computer, I can drive it just by possessing it. If it’s a Model T Ford, I have to do it telekinetically. And blind. I can heal machines. I don't know how that works either. Other than telekinesis and healing, I can’t break the laws of physics. On the flip side, machines don’t pollute my memory, and they don’t fight back. Or at least I haven’t found any that did. I wonder about an AI…

I’m getting long winded, and the more I dig into my memories from before, the more hers sometimes pop up, so let’s stop there. TLDR:, like the cool kids say, I am Poltergeist, real name Nina Cohen. I was born in 1898, and died in 1912. My memory is full of holes and shattered fragments of a dead girl’s life, cat, rat and fish memories, and things that don’t make sense. I know what I know about this modern world from TV and the Internet, neither of which existed when I died. I am 14 years old. Alina might be a little older, but I’m driving. I’m Telekinetic, and I can possess people, animals, and things. Sometimes to their benefit. I want to help the world, to atone for my sins, to be worthy of this life I’ve stolen. But I have no idea how.

IC Events

None Yet (if you want to wiki-fu a module to list logs, the code can be provided). This is extra writing presently to taste the parameters of this field in relation to the hanging box and see if I write too far that the box might cover up some of this text.



(2021-06-06) ...and Sometimes They're Still Just Kids
and Sometimes They're Still Just Kids. Summary: Nina asks Marcus out. It goes about how you'd...

(2021-05-19) Do You Think I'm Pretty?
Do You Think I'm Pretty? Summary: Nina asks that question of Sebastian. Awkward much? Date:...

(2021-05-13) The Gathering Storm -or- You //Have// to Know Star Wars
The Gathering Storm -or- You Have to Know Star...

(2021-05-09) Matching Underthings -or- We //must// shop!
Matching Underthings -or- We must shop! Summary: {$summary} Date: 2021.05.09 Related: None ...

(2021-05-01) Rhymes with P and that stands for Pool
Rhymes with P and that stands for Pool Summary: Nina, Zeph, Marcus, and Keyson hang out. Play...

(2021-04-22) Deeper Waters
Deeper Waters Summary: Nina doesn't like being in the water above her knees much, having drowned...

(2021-04-20) Prodigals Unite
Prodigals Unite Summary: Nina meets Zeph. Finds a kindred spirit. Where she's human once again,...

(2021-04-16) Try It
Try It. Summary: Nina and Sebastian have an argument. They reach some kind of nonviolent...

(2021-04-11) Ghost Hunting and Knees
Ghost Hunting and Knees Summary: Nina and Marcus go ghost hunting. They find Keyson instead. ...

(2021-04-04) Easter Eggs
Easter Eggs Summary: Keyson and Nina hang out. Nina lets a little of her story out to Keyson. It...

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