Bright, inquisitive, and able to survive on coffee, adrenaline, and a rigid deadline, Poe Kincade was tailor-made for journalism. She studied hard, wrote often, and always found her way to events about the small town where she grew up. Nobody from the South Side of Tosha was surprised when Kincade wrote an article on spec, and was then hired to move to RhyDin Proper and write for the city paper. She was already on her third cup of coffee when she breezed through the doors of the Oracle's office.

"Hey!"

The paperboy with the heavy stack on his shoulder very nearly bowled her over. She would have been fairly irritated, no doubt, had she lost cup number three before she even got to her desk. Collision averted, she continued inside. At reception, she stalled just a moment.

"Poe Kincade, starting today."

The receptionist didn't miss a beat, didn't look up from her note pad, nor pause in her scribbling. She just extended a finger towards the stairs. "Second floor. Your desk is somewhere."

Up she went, coffee and notebook in hand, reading glasses settled hooked haphazardly to the pocket of her blouse. Though it was early in the morning, the place was already humming with the specific kind of energy that only a newspaper could produce. The smell of ink and days old coffee, and a delirious patina of barely controlled chaos washed over her as she crossed the floor, found the desk with her name on it, and immediately settled in to work.

Kincade was right at home.