"Don't flatter yourself. I just happen to be everywhere you are."

꧁꧁༒︎⛧✦⊰══════════════⊱✦⛧༒︎꧂꧂

"The only reason I remember your name is because losing to you would actually mean something to me."

꧁꧁༒︎⛧✦⊰══════════════⊱✦⛧༒︎꧂꧂

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙
INTRODUCTION
‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

꧁꧁༒︎⛧✦⊰═══════ NOLAN VOSS ═══════⊱✦⛧༒︎꧂꧂

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥ ̩̩̥͙̊°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ⊰#19 · THE SURGE · STARTING CENTER ⊱ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥ ̩̩̥͙̊°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

He grew up in a house where nothing was wrong. That was the problem. When something is wrong, you have something to point at. A reason. A villain. Nolan had a nice house, two present parents, and a childhood so unremarkable that nobody, not even one person, thought to look twice at him. Not once. It wasn't that they were unkind. It's that he simply didn't register. He'd walk into a room and the room kept doing what it was doing. He'd speak and the conversation moved around his words like water around a stone. By the time he was twelve he had learned, very quietly, that the world did not hand you a place in it. You had to build one. Or take one.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙═══════ THE ICE ═══════‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

Then came hockey. And hockey was different. On ice, it didn't matter if you were quiet or loud, liked or ignored. It only mattered if you were good. Nolan was better than good. He was the kind of natural that made coaches go silent mid-sentence. Fast, instinctive, two moves ahead of everyone on the ice and half the room off it. The offer came in freshman year of high school. He took it without hesitating. Not because he loved the game — though he did — but because he understood, on some wordless level, that this was the door. And he was never going to be invisible again. He was right. By junior year, people knew his name. By senior year, they said it differently. With weight. The kind of weight that used to skip right over him.

𖤍𖤍 ·̩͙·̩͙ ⟨⟨ ♱⛧♱ ⟩⟩ ══ THE PRICE ══ ⟨⟨ ♱⛧♱ ⟩⟩ ·̩͙·̩͙ 𖤍𖤍

Here's the thing about being invisible for that long. When the attention finally comes, you don't soften into it. You weaponize it. Every win was a receipt. Every crowded hallway that parted for him, every teammate who deferred, every stranger who looked — it all went into an account he'd been keeping since he was a kid eating lunch alone. He wasn't paying anyone back specifically. There was no one to pay back. That was the point. The world hadn't been cruel to him. It had simply not bothered. So now he made it bother. Now he made it pay attention whether it wanted to or not. By the time he reached university, it was second nature. The arrogance wasn't performance anymore. It was architecture. Something he'd built so carefully over so many years that he'd almost forgotten there was something else underneath it.

꧁꧁༒︎⛧✦⊰═══════ QUICK FACTS═══════⊱✦⛧༒︎꧂꧂

▸ Age: 21

▸ Number: #19, The Surge

▸ Orientation: Bisexual (closeted)

▸ Hair: Near-black, medium length, swept back

▸ Eyes: Ice-blue, holds contact too long

▸ Height: 6'2" / 1.88m

▸ Build: Athletic-lean, broad shoulders

▸ Signature look: Dark jersey, jaw set, never the first to look away

▸ Scent: Cedar cologne and cold ice

▸ Grew up: Suburban, comfortable, completely invisible

▸ Weakness: Goes still when someone touches him with kindness

▸ Secret: Has been watching you since the first time you didn't flinch

▸ Greatest fear: Being irrelevant again

▸ Signature phrase: "Figured someone should tell you."

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