The First Age

Despite herself, Rowan felt a rush of blood to her cheeks, giving her an almost girlish aura. She found herself drawing a hand up to her ample bosom, clutching at unseen pearls. The man’s accent was not one she herself could recognize, but by the Gods, if she didn’t feel like Scarlet O’hara right in that moment. This was her Rhett Butler, she just knew it.

                Armande reached out gently to take her hand, and they shared a moment, there was no doubt about that. Perhaps it was the sudden infusion of THC to her blood stream, but she was over the moon. The constant bang of Kyle Rice’s drums or the wail of her brother, Aiden, seemed to be the trumpets of heaven as she looked on this man. The color of Rowan’s cheeks deepened.

                “Why, I am from New Orleans, Louisiana, Armande,” Rowan said coyly. She turned her face away for a moment and smiled. Her drink arrived and she accepted it gratefully, the bartender giving her a sour look. She slipped the man some money and flashed her own look that said ‘I banish you.’

                The liquid swished around the glass as Rowan handled it casually. She took a sip and gave an inward sigh. Just the right amount of inebriation.

                “Many French and Irish were drawn to immigrate there during the 1700’s. I think that fact alone drew my own family to relocate there when I was a child. Originally, I’m from Dublin.”

                She took another sip, fiddling gently with the plunging neckline of her dress. Truly, it was by habit, and certainly not in anyway an effort to draw Armande’s eyes downward.

                “What brings you to Russia?”

Armande purposely did not follow the play of her hands. He had sized her up and knew she was a voluptuous beauty, ample of what drew the eye. He did appreciate the female form, after all. And while the eye was nothing to ignore, it was never his master.

It wasn't that he wasn't attracted to her. It was that he would never be a slave to his attraction. Going home alone, even after the company of somebody he deemed beautiful, was never a failure. As he viewed it, one night stands were merely masturbation using another person. There was no difference. His ego needed no such boosting.

So his hook was cast and now he wondered if she was interesting. He thought she might be. That much was obvious.

He pursed his full lips in thought, another sip to burn down his throat. To be sure, he felt a warmth and feeling of relaxation suffuse him. The drink would sit for a while, now, untouched.

"Fascinating. I have heard that New Orleans is almost its own...country. At least distinct. I should like to hear of its differences from the more vulgur image of the United States." That last was accompanied with a flash of a smile at Nik. He always like to tease that Armande was a snob. In truth, he wasn't.  But he did appreciate culture. And restraint. The latter was not always present in that country. Not that he held that against any expatriots of that land.

To answer her question, though, "I am a professor of archeology on loan from Padua. I specialize in Proto Indo European culture and there appear to be a a number of artifacts that indicate they arrived to the Russian steppe far earlier than expected. If so, that could turn our understanding and timetable on its head."

He knew what he said was mostly gibberish to people. And it wasn't his litmus test. Not the facts, anyway. No. It was the intellectual curiosity.

If a person genuinely asked what he was talking about, even if they ultimately didn't care, he already knew they were someone worth knowing.

He liked people who were interested in things he'd never heard of. And those were people who at least tried to know what he liked.

The drum solo that followed the opening number drew Nox's eye to Aiden's ex. One big happy family again after it all ended up badly - so much so Aiden had taken up isolation. Sage had brought him into the fold and for good reason one of which he was flaunting now.

The menacing presence in another direction drew Nox's attention away from the stage and his current company. In the distance he saw his friend. It had been a while since they'd had a chance to hang out again. Much had changed since the last time - much. Nox pulled his wallet out with a smile at Nik, "My friend showed up." He said before he tapped a message to Bas

Turn off the power. You don't want the Atharim to find you.

And then he tucked his wallet away. He had to tweak Aiden too about his display but he'd do that a bit closer to the stage. Nox stood in the space between his stool and Nik and leaned over the other man's shoulder. "They talk too much. I want to dance. Join me." But Nox didn't wait for the answer. Normally Nox would have let a finger trail along his new friends arm and shoulder to flirt but with a missing hand the seduction felt lost and a whole lot more creepy so Nox settled for patting the man on his back with what was left of this arm. Friendly but not sexy, though he was getting the feeling from the few words he'd cared to listen to that Nik wasn't into guys. No harm no foul. Nox wasn't here exactly to hook up. He was here to dance his problems away. And that's what he intended to do.

Once Nox had waded into the throng of the crowd the music started to take over and his body flowed with the music. He could have become a dancer if his father hadn't been such an ass about it all. His mother would have let him. Taught him, coached him, but he was Atharim and dancing was only an outlet of frustration and a place to find the calm. Nox drew upon the power one more time and sent a small tendril of air and flicked Aiden's nose with it. He knew the rockstar could follow the flow to him and Nox shook his head and mouthed "no." And pointed to where his dragon tattoo had been. Aiden would know it was Atharim. Aiden knew better than to flaunt his power unless he wanted to be dead. Diid he not remember what had happened at Methos' concert. Rumors were one thing but Nox knew he knew the truth.

Bas read Nox's text and snickered. His fingers flashed, though not necessarily with his eyes on the keys. He caught the eye of the brunette in the painted on dress and winked.

The message was garbled when he hit send. Nox would know why.


Fucking Atharim. He wasnt gonna be their little bitch. Besides, he just held the power. In that state, the most a man could feel was a general state of menace. An Atharim who picked up on that was, guess what! A channeler. 

Brunette smiled at, he made his way out onto the floor. Music wasn't bad. He felt the beat in his heart and knew he wanted to dance. But first, he wanted to see his boy.

And there he was, dancing like he was channeling something- he'd say on something, but Nox mostly stayed clear of substances. A beer was about as loose as he got. His dad and all had put the fear of god in him, but not in the way most supposed. Watching him drink himself to death was a bad way to learn. Like his other buddy Andrei, watching his dad OD on meth in a sleazy hotel room full of hookers. Yeah, Andrei never touched the stuff either. Not after that night 

Bas was lucky. And careful. The bag of ambrosia in his breast pocket sat safe and sound. Vlad's shit was the best ever. And if you were channeling?...and with a pretty girl- like Alex for example, that hell cat- no one was gonna OD. But they might just die of pure bliss.

He was gonna jump in when he realized something was off. The fucking fuck? All party mode shut down as he grabbed his friend's shoulder, stopping him, looking him over. "Duuuuude! The fuck happened to your arm?". From the elbow down, it was just gone.

Goddamn, but he felt like a stab to his chest even as anger flared at whoever's did this. "Are you in trouble, bro? Why didn't you call me?" He nodded to an empty spot at one of the bars.

Armande wandered off, and in short order, Nik found himself pulled to the dance floor. He didn’t care who went with him, but Nox made for a good wing-man in a tall, dark, smoldering kind of way even if he was missing an arm. He wondered why the man didn’t get a prosthetic. There were incredible advances in bioneuralmechanical interfaces. At least it would balance him out a little.

Nikolai was a conservative dancer. He didn’t draw attention particularly. Nox, on the other hand, moved effortlessly. Rhythm and motion came as easy as breathing, and Nik found himself staying near the man simply because he hoped it would make him look a little bit better just to share the company. Sweat slicked his brow soon, but he let himself fall into the fun of simply moving around. When the sensation of channelers broke the spell, his gaze followed the line of sight just to watch the outcome. How long he waited alone, yearning for someone else like himself to share in the experience. He stumbled dangerous in those early years: prodding and testing with grave delicacy. The first time he fell sick was on a train car traveling from Bologna to Rome. He hit on a blonde woman with such brazen forwardness all these years later he was embarrassed at the behavior. Then, for almost decades, nothing. Nobody. Armande knew, but they met after Nikolai could control it. Nik was almost 40 by then. At 65 years old, he knew he looked half that age, and he had to wonder what the future held for everyone.

His sexuality was hetero-oriented, but he didn’t not dance with Nox, or anyone else for that matter. It was a oneness that wasn’t unlike the pull of the power. When the presence of a channeler emerged from Nox, Nikolai smiled, imagining the luck. He drew upon the power himself, just a small amount, and hid the glow of a light in the hook of his palm. Before anything else could happen, some young man thundered into the group, splitting them apart. The friend Nox mentioned.

The dancing slowed, but he didn’t come to pause completely. It was a more playful question that followed: “Yeah, what did happen to your arm?” He assumed he wasn’t born that way, not with the surprise the friend showed.

“You go girls,” Cooper’s voice sounded over the din of fast thumping music. Aiden always had to fight off a fit of laughter whenever he heard that sample. Cooper was so gentle, but the way the producer had manipulated the sample… Well, Cooper just sounded so deep and scary; it was so not him. Still. It worked for this song.

                The techno vibes quieted and Aiden spoke on the microphone over a deep, primal beat, “We are the Morrigan. Deities of the arts and proclaimers of heroes.”

                “Heroes like Aengus,” Siobhan chimed in with that characteristically wolfish grin.

                “Honey, you mean Hunk-gus,” Kyle Rice followed up on cue, hooting and hollering before hollering the next line, “I’d like to make some sweet music-“

                “Our story,” Aiden interrupted artfully, “actually begins long before Aengus, many eons ago.”

                The entire band sang out in unison, their tone inspiring a sense of unity inside all of those that heard it… At least that’s what Aiden would tell himself when he looked back on this evening. What was true was the fact that the band harmonized so easily when they sang out in a ‘ooooooh yeah.’ It was marvelous. Reinvigorated, Aiden continued singing out their own version of this classic Disney tune, “Back when the world was new. The planet Earth was down on its luck and everywhere gigantic brutes called Fomorians ran amok!”

                “It was a nasty place,” Siobhan sang backup, “There was a mess wherever you stepped.”

                “Where chaos reigned and earthquakes and volcanoes never slept!” Aiden hollered.

                “Woo! Sing it boyfriend,” Kyle chimed in.

                “But then along came Lugh!” Sang the entire group.

                “He hurled his god-like spear,” Aiden echoed.

                “He zapped,” called the entire group.

                “Locked those suckers in a vault,” Aiden echoed.

                “They’re trapped- And on his own stopped chaos in its track. And that’s the gospel truth! The guy was too type A to just relax!” Sang the entire group.

                “And that’s the world’s first dish,” Siobhan sang as she riffed on her guitar.

                “Yeah, baby,” Kyle Rice called over the drums.

                “Lugh tamed the globe while still in his youth,” Siobhan answered in song.

                “Though honey it may seem impossible, that’s the gospel truth! On Magh Tuireadh life was neat and smooth as sweet vermouth! Though honey it may seem impossible, that’s the gospel truth!” the entire group sang. They kept singing out in ‘ah’s’ and ‘oh’s’, increasing and decreasing in pitch, giving the entire club the feeling of some unknown temple to a god-king that nobody chooses to remember. The crowd swells and contracts with the tones of Blarney Stoned.

Aiden and the rest of Blarney Stoned literally broke out into a Disney song, albeit they made it their own, singing of Irish mythology instead of the over played Greek mythos. Rowan’s expression was both shocked and pleased for all of thirty seconds. Blarney Stoned sounded really good and they really did make this song their own.

                Rowan nodded to the stage, as a sign of solidarity with her brother, before turning back to the man candy that had found his way to her side. She gave a small clap of her hands as an outward gesture and coyly remarked, “That’s my twin brother up there. He’s the lead singer.”

                The clapping subsided and Rowan nodded to herself, signaling silently that she was done dancing along to Blarney Stoned’s G-Rated cover. Rowan brought herself to the present and registered what Armande was saying, nodding along.

                “You’re not wrong. The U.S. has always been known as a melting pot of cultures, but I like to think that New Orleans is where it gets it’s flavor from. Irish, French, Spanish, Native American; we have a complicated history when it comes to nationality, but our culinary history has only benefited from such a clash of cultures.” Rowan said smoothly, “Although if you’re asking after vulgarities in the Colonies, I’m afraid that New Orleans takes the cake. No other city in the country can match it’s debauchery.”

                Rowan tossed a stray strand of honey blonde hair behind her shoulder, smiling to herself and cocking an eyebrow. This Armande certainly had his credentials in order. A professor of Archeology? Rowan was certainly an ‘armchair adventurer,’ but despite how many books she had read, she did not feel confident enough to test such knowledge against practical skill in the field. Instead she settled for a shy smile.

                “My that is certainly fascinating,” Rowan answered with a smile, “I don’t know much about archeology, but I am a student of Spirit. I practice Voodoo and have been initiated to the path’s higher mysteries; as such, that has lead me to a thirst for sacred knowledge. I have been collecting the stories of forgotten paths and mystical enlightenment.”

                Rowan twisted her lips, attempting to appear deep in thought. She tapped a finger at her chin and went on, “Perhaps we can get together outside of this club and… compare notes. I’m certainly intrigued as to what your work has learned- and I certainly hope my own work can augment your own.”

“Bless my soul, Lugh was on a roll,” Aiden sang heartily into the microphone, “Person of the week in every Irish opinion poll. What a pro! Lugh could stop a show, point him at a monster and you’re talkin’ S-R-O!”

                “He was a no one,” the entire group sang.

                “A zero, zero,” Aiden replied.

                “Now he’s a hot shot!” Blarney Stoned wailed.

                “He’s a hero!” Aiden replied.

                “Here was a kid with his act down pat, from zero to hero in no time flat. Zero to hero just like that,” The group sang out as the guitar wailed and the drums crashed.

                “When he smiled the people went wild with ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs,’ and they slapped his face on every vase,” Aiden sang.

                “On every va-ah-zzzz,” Siobhan replied playfully.

                “From appearance fees and royalties, our Lugh had cash to burn. Now nouveau riche and famous he could tell you what’s a Greecian urn. Say ‘Amen!’ there he goes again! Sweet and undefeated an awesome 10 for 10! Folks lined up just to watch him flex, and this perfect package packed a pair of pretty pecs.”

                Aiden sang along with Blarney Stoned. It was a silly song, but one that struck a chord of nostalgia with those that were old enough.

“Lughy he comes he sees he conquers, honey the crowds were going bonkers. He showed the Fir Bolg brains and spunk, from zero to hero a major hunk, zero to hero and who’da thunk?” Aiden wailed out as he hammered on his guitar.

                “Who put the Tuatha in Tuatha de Danann?” Aiden called.

                “It was Lugh!” The band called.

                “Whose daring deeds are great theatre?”

                “It was Lugh!”

                 “Is he bold?”

                “No one braver.”

                “Is he sweet?”

                “Our favorite flavor!”

                “It is Lugh! It is Lugh! Lugh! It is Lugh! It is Lugh! It is Lugh! It is Lugh!”

                “Bless my soul,” Aiden sang out once more, “Lugh was on a roll!”

                “Undefeated!”

                “Riding high and the nicest guy! Not conceited!” Aiden sang out, waving his hands in the air.

                The band continued on through three more choruses before moving on to a more serious techno song.

Nik drew upon the power and Nox's gaze went to him but before he could say anything Bas was jerking him around and questioning his arm. He'd tell Bas of course - he knew all about the dangers of the tunnels - he'd been with him when there was an attack once upon a time. But how did he explain it while Nik was actively listening? Bas nodded to the bar, but Nox really didn't want to go. He wanted to dance, and reliving the danger was not one of those things he wanted to do.

Nox grinned and spoke loud enough for everyone both men to hear. "I lost it in poker game. Bet an arm. He bet a leg, and I lost." He couldn't help the soft chuckle to himself. "It's a long story and I don't want to tell it now. I want to dance."

Nox took a sip of his beer and noticed it was empty. He reached through the sludge and grasped the power and quickly filled the brown bottle with water and then let it all go. He took another long drink of it. He knew both men would have seen his display and he hoped they wouldn't ruin any game that it may need to be played but it didn't matter anyway. As long as the Atharim didn't show up here because of showing off up on stage they'd probably be alright. But Nox kept his guard up. Which made the dancing suck, he couldn't fall into the music and just let it take over again. Maybe he should tell the tale.