The First Age

How long had it been since she's encountered the boy god traitor in the tunnels with the inquisitor? A week or more? And here he was flaunting his powers in the wide open. The reports shown that Jerry hadn't actually found him except when the boy wanted to be found. Or when he'd been injured and flagged -- this was pure carelessness on his part. Something had changed.

Dangerous men needed to be taken down. But this boy knew how they operated. And taking him on was not going to work. A bullet to the brain was the only way to go. But there was still a no kill order on him. That dumb ass scientist wanted him alive. Which made this all that much worse. The inquisitors no kill order still stood. And until proof could be brought to the order, he was still only suspected of being a god. Though the other inquisitors couldn't find him either.

They weren't being very good at their jobs if they couldn't find two men who could do this channeling thing the media spoke of. The power of the gods flowed through their veins and they would mess up -- Durante clearly had.

And now Zef sat in the audience of the supposed show and waited and watched even as he threatened her very self with a blatant display of his power. There were other Atharim here. There had to be. His displays had gone viral. And they all would watch and wait until they could take him out. But that wasn't why Zef was here. She wanted to control him. And there had to be something here he cared about -- something she could exploit and keep him in her grasp while he floundered and ran scared into the shadows. Something that would keep her safe.

Oh the victory was sweet. The look on Aiden’s face made everything worth it. The anger narrowing his pretty eyes. The pining after Sage. A wicked pining, ironic given the name of Sage’s dark web alter-ego. Was there a place deep down where Jaxen felt bad for Sage? Possibly? Was it enough to make him think twice about knocking Aiden off his high horse? Just to see him squirm afterward? Not in the least.

And truth be told, Jaxen reveled in the attention. A siphon of the adoration of the world from one god to another. Now, if there was ever a time to test his sexuality, Aiden’s follow-up tongue tangle was it. He was good. Sage was a lucky bastard. Not to mention the hundred other blokes before him. Probably would take a note or two for his back pocket. But what stared after Aiden left him reeling was not the pining. If was the isolation of dust kicked up in defeat. Aiden wasn’t bothered. Wasn’t disturbed. DIdn’t even seem mad. Jaxen should have smirked. Maybe he liked it more than he admitted. But instead, his gaze stalked Aiden as he bounded indoors.

Ah. So Aiden thought Jaxen had just revealed himself? To who? Fucking assholes that thought they had a chance at taking him out? Well they had their one shot,

“Fucking snakes,” Jaxen said under his breath. Uncaring if anyone heard it.

He stalked inside, expression heavy and daring. The pops of light continued behind him.

He had a mind to find Aiden again, just to curl up alongside and whisper a tale about a punk rock waif of a girl kidnapping him in his own car. Ending up in the kind of place the mafia disposed of bodies and the barrel of a gun pointed at his forehead.

The inside was packed. Much more than Jaxen ever remembered. A small smirk of pride bloomed his face. He liked to think he had something to do with it. Of all the assholes that weren’t a god who probably should be, Nox counted in that list. Good for that lucky bastard.

The fluff and feathers of his coat were checked. That left him space to find a wall and leaned against it. Ankles crossed. Just in time to listen to Nox’s warning. The speech left Jaxen nodding. Guy had balls. Big old heavy ones, too. He nodded in approval just as fiery ones shot toward the ceiling.

Did Oriena care that Nox was marking his territory all over her club? Knowing Oriena, probably not in the least.

He couldn’t help but send her a message. A video of Nox went along with it. Hadn’t heard from her in well a long fucking time, but the temptation couldn’t be ignored.

@"Oriena"
Snakes on your plane, princess. Feather boa boy is in charge?

He smirked to himself, and waited for the show. Based on the way Nox was dressed. It was sure to be a good one.

Aiden was guided in by the staff after being asked to put the cigarette out. Wallets snapped discreetly in the lobby; eyes glued to him. He discarded the butt without protest and was eventually brought to a shadowy table near the front. Sage and Dimitri were already tucked in, the middle seat left free between them. Aiden flashed the pair a smile before taking his seat and placing a drink order. Dimitri had already begun to sip upon a vodka tonic. He leaned in towards Aiden and whispered, “Whatever stunt you two were pulling outside, it’s already being talked about on the Scroll.”

Aiden’s expression did not alter a hair. He knew exactly what he had been doing. Why, Jaxen had been the one to start it – not Aiden. Let the man deal with the media and the paparazzi and the snakes. Whatever article was written about the night, it would only prove to be a passing annoyance. Would the paparazzi be following Aiden again? Most likely. But then, he was about to release a new novel. The repercussions of fame would have begun to edge back into his personal life sooner or later. He sighed quietly to himself.

“Ignore them for now. We’re here to see and support Nox. Forget Jaxen,” Aiden whispered back to Dimitri. The man rolled his eyes and slid his Wallet back into his coat pocket. Aiden’s hand found Sage’s and he gave him a reassuring peck on the cheek. The waitress was back with the whiskey before Aiden’s face pulled away from Sage’s. Aiden smiled lovingly at him and grabbed the whiskey with his other hand.

Aiden’s attention was pulled away as Nox sauntered out onto the stage, looking very much like the late, great Elton John. The look was a little over the top, but it suited Nox surprisingly well. Aiden had never donned feathers in any of his own stage looks – only leather. Lots and lots of leather. Memories flooded back to him of sweaty, screaming bodies and the hot lights of the stage. Maybe he would reconsider a Blarney Stoned reunion in the future, a one-night engagement perhaps. Such a thing would only be possible with a reconciliation with Kyle Rice. That was a feat not even Aiden Finnegan felt he was ready for just yet.

Nox began to layout some ground rules for the show as he took the mic. Aiden’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling as the words ‘Atharim’ were spoken over the speaker system. Fireballs errupted, no doubt due to Nox. They floated up and exploded into a glittering rain of tiny embers. Aiden smirked. His friend had come a long way from hiding in the basement of a mansion, running from the very thing he now called out. It was a shame they could not take the snake out. Three Gods? Maybe more? They could surely make short work of it.

But that would have surely outed Aiden and put a price on his head to boot.

That would never do.

Meera signaled Hercules to move her into the club as Jaxen Marveet passed through it’s threshold. A few discreet gasps could be heard in her wake as the man did little to avoid running over various feet. It was the smallest concession afforded her. The bouncer had taken his sweet time in letting them through. Meera affected not to notice their hard stare, letting a gulf of silence stretch out before he finally let them go.

The room had filled up quickly, but Hercules had taken her to a small, empty table near the center of the room. She waived the waitress away. Although a glass of red wine sounded like a gift from God, it would only cloud her thoughts and her judgement – not to mention any hope she had at maintaining God’s Light behind her shoulder.

She consulted her Wallet as the zombies around her found their seat and quieted for the show to begin. The Light proved to enhance her hearing, and so she part of her mind linger on the various conversations that had been taking place around her. It would only take a few key words to draw her attention to the right people.

None did.

Meera looked up to the stage as the conversations were replaced with cheers. Her lip quivered, but she fought the sneer. Nox. Oh, she had known it was his show tonight, but it was always another thing entirely to actually see another one of those demons. It was a true pity she had not been sent to execute. A few twists of God’s Light and some well-placed bullets would have been enough to take the two of them down. In time. She would be the one to do it. Two more sacrifices for God’s glory. Two more to quiet her own ravenous hunger.

A smile did then spread upon her lips as the demon spoke of the Atharim by name. Murmurs and telling gasps sounded from the near by tables. The man had all but drawn a spot light down on to her. No doubt he had a security detail monitoring the building remotely. He would have been a fool not to. No matter. It was clear her cover had been blown – not that she had gone incognito. Still, it was refreshing to see that her reputation preceded her.

Her smile faltered as the implications crashed home, however. The man had just made her job for the night that much more difficult. Would there be any more daring individuals amongst them? Would there be another Jaxen Marveet for her to confirm and consign to death? Surely some of the stage dancers that had made it to her list?

Surely.

There was far more entertainment here than that of just the show. Jaxen had come and outed himself. Aiden was a man of mystery and wonder and even Dimitri knew the press was already leaking rumors and suggestions. A slow smile spread over Sages lips even as Nox went on about the Atharim and keeping their hands and feet and special gifts to themselves. Sage had no intention of doing such a thing.

The network at Kallisti was already his. He'd hacked it eons ago when Nox had moved in. From there he could see from every camera in every room and every feed was his. His facial recognition software ran on his wallet while he identified every soul in the building. Atharim flagged. Gods on the Atharim's lists that Nox had last acquired before his access was revoked were flagged. Supporters of the Ascendancy. Allies and friends, foes and neutral parties. Sage knew every face in the building by the time his scan was finished.

The important bits were brought to his attention especially the one reporter who made the latest snippet of news about Aiden. Any about Nox that hit the internet superhighway would also flag Sage's direct attention instead of sitting idle in his bin of collected information. Anomalies like the girl Nox asked him to initially track down were flagged as well. People with no paperwork or internet trails were likely Atharim. And if they weren't snakes they were hiding something and that meant information... glorious fucking information.

The reporter who outed Jaxen and Aiden first found herself the subject of her own little featurette inside of Aiden's transcribed article. A torrid affair easily found in the history of the security footage Sage had compiled from various places. His network might not be b0rg status anymore, but his network was wide and only growing wider. The server in Aiden's home soon would be finished and he could hack anything he wanted any place in Moscow -- except the Kremlin -- Nox might put him down for breaching the Ascendancy's sanctum again. And Sage didn't want to disappoint his only real friend.

Where the girl tugged, Seven followed, but it wasn’t without the whimsy of an accomplice. He was enjoying watching her rapture. Such freshness to behold, it was like witnessing someone enjoy your favorite movie for the first time. Seven enjoyed life with similar passion, the little things and the large. In Seven, Visha had discovered a kindred spirit.

Like the way she toyed with the bracelets. The glove was cool against his wrist, but when he turned the supple flesh over, the line of a vein ridged fresh warmth. He brooked no shame in enjoying the paw of her touch. The compliment was well-received.

“This one,” he began, curling one finger from the other hand beneath the band. It was a braided leather. “Is from a department store in Paris,” he nodded for himself, suitably impressed. Paris was an incredible city, but still, it was far away and more brilliant fashions could be found within their own Moscovian borders. He pushed it up to reveal the next. It was a silver box-chain snapped upon itself with a lobster clasp. “This one is a David Yurman. I traded an eighteenth century silver Repousse tea caddy for it in Salzburg,” his lips pressed with a playful smug. “Which is far less practical than an attractive accessory,” he added a playful smile at the end, eyes dancing.

There was one more bracelet. A brown cord held a polished turquoise owl in place, right where the vein pulsed beneath its body. He simply smiled and did not elaborate, watching for a reaction first. If she was the unsuspecting fish, he wondered which lure she would nibble first: the tale, the jewelry, or the intrigue.

But before he could find out, the lights changed. The volume of the room settled. Visha continued to hold his arm, and frankly, he did not so much as lean away from their conspiratorial secret-sharing postures. His gaze did study what unfolded on stage, however. Brows loomed high as the fire danced and threats were issued. Atharim was a word he knew from a distance, even if others were not so lucky. He hadn’t seen Nox since that night at Almaz. Seven had watched what happened from on high, and taken Jay away from all of it afterward, but the story of what happened remained a mystery. He pieced together something from the ramblings, but he never asked, and the night carried them far away from the throws of fists and slinging of runes. He was likewise infinitely curious as to what would happen tonight. More so if he could stitch that fractured picture together again, or perhaps meet Nox himself.

Nox left, promising retribution and charms, but Seven was not one to be frightened easily. He looked back to Visha, wondering how she would react to the showmanship. His brows were raised. They were not the only ones freshly studying their neighbor. Rather than fling suspicion, Seven chuckled. “Atharim? Most people say they are fairy tale. Do you believe they exist?”

There was big drama to be had with the arrival of someone that knew Aiden and his mystery boyfriend. Another one? How many does he have? Ilesha couldn't fathom having that many people following her around much less anyone at all.

But they were at the door and the tables were filling up. This better be a good show. The price of entrance had gone up since the last time she was here -- probably taking advantage of the free press. That might make Oriena happy. Though Ilesha didn't imagine much made the woman happy. She always seemed like she had eaten a sour grape before putting on her best clothes and make up.

Ilesha pulled Danika along and spoke loudly over the music and din of the club inside. "Have you ever been here before?" she asked Danika. For once in her life she could say that she had. A few times actually. "With these so called Atharim around though I imagine the shows are all going to be pretty quiet. Not sure who the main attraction is, he wasn't here when I was last." She rambled on as she found them a spot near the front. This better be worth it, she thought to herself.

[[ ooc: I think everyone's inside now. Continue, I have 4 posts for the actual show I'll sprinkle in and/or throw away depending on what all happens ]]

The lights dimmed, alerting the jam-packed theater full of strangers and those seeking something he had no clue about. He should text Sage and see why this had blown up out of proportion.

When the curtains rose, Nox’s heart was pounding in his chest. The last time he did this, he had his arm. Now it was his mechanical one, and he had to trust himself to not hurt his partner with it. Mandy’s persona, Candy, stood opposite him as she the music played and she sat on a cloud throne. It had taken the crew a bit to make it without the use of the power, but it lent itself to the otherwise optical illusions he alone would be creating. Juls was supposed to help, but with the Atharim in the winds no one else was going to use their gifts tonight — not if he had anything to say about it.

They’d worked hard on the illusions. Even Sterling had chipped in on creating just the perfect setting for Olympus. Who knew his cousin was such a Greek myth buff? It had only just started and Nox knew this was going to be a long, tiring night. He tied off weaves he had intended to keep active and hoped it didn’t make a tangled mess later when the scenes needed to change. Crossing fingers and all that.

The music took on a jazz feel and Olympus became a speakeasy of the roaring 20s — the 1920s. They were both dressed in Greek appropriate themed outfits but with a 1920s flare. Nox tossed the fedora he’d donned for the first act into the crowd, revealing the flaming blue tips like the character in the Disney animated movie. He’d even added a dash of blue flame and movement with illusion, but the color was there in its faked glory. The tips died blue several days ago to keep with the theme of things — and he rather liked it. The new flare, the makeup. He only wished it hadn’t come with the failures of his life.

Zeus and Hades danced across the stage, Hades’ angry and fiery dance gesturing his wants and needs in a tawdry manner. His mother would hate him for it, but it didn’t matter. She’d still be proud he was doing something loved. In the background, their plan played out with some of the other girls enacting the kidnapping of Persephone from her garden.

By the end of the first act, Nox felt energetic and happier than he had in a long while despite the lapses of sorrow lingering when he thought of Raffe. But the show went on, and so did his life. And life felt right dancing — if only he could keep dancing forever.

[[ the music would be based on this playlist by Marlyn Desire once song for the 4 planned posts. ]]

She and Ilesha found a spot squeezed in somewhere. The outside was just as busy as the inside, but at least reporters weren't allowed in. Everyone had Wallets though, and she noted more than a few panning the inside of Kallisti. She totally understood why. The interior decorations was beautiful! Danika felt like she was in some secret castle club, but one brimming with pretty people. She definitely didn't belong!

"I've never even heard of this place before now!" she leaned to talk in Ilesha's ear over the noise. The show hadn't started yet and already the volume of people talking and laughing made it hard to hear. "I was invited by him! Not personally, but through message..." she pointed at the stage just as he came out then pat her purse where the wallet was stored. Her eyes went wide once he started. For one thing, it was incredibly mesmerizing to watch him dance, and for another, he looked great! The last time she saw him, he'd looked like he needed an Emergency Room. Guess he must have found one!

The story that unfolded in song and dance was vaguely known by Danika. She only recognized what anyone might have known, but she didn't hear anything about Greek mythology since middle school when they had a section on it in 6th grade lit class. And that had been a while ago!

Still, she watched with a pleasant sigh spilling out half-way through. It was lovely.

Visha listened rapt, her gaze alternating between the baubles on his wrist and his expression. She had never been to Paris, and she didn’t know what repoussé even meant, though she did recognise the name of the designer. Mostly she was aware of the way his hand felt in hers. Seven sat very close, the realisation of which made her very aware of her breathing and the steady rush of heartbeat in her chest. By the intimacy of their posture, she wondered if onlookers might presume they were on a date, and it zipped her through with thrill to imagine. He was very handsome, and very fashionable. Her position was enviable.

When he paused and simply smiled, she took it upon herself to explore the final bracelet. A finger traced where the owl lay flush against the underside of his wrist, hidden from casual view. The gloves were too thick to feel the shudder of his pulse, but she knew it must feel sensitive. “Hmm,” she said. A smile tugged like the promise of a secret to be discovered. She realised she enjoyed the attention of his scrutiny, and for a moment her touch followed the flow of the vein up. Visha was naive about much, but she consumed a lot of whimsical media. It was the vehicle through which she lived most vicariously, at least until she had begun to sneak out at night. This was much more exciting than one of her shows though.

The placement of the owl was sentimental. She leaned a little closer, as much as she dared without risking an accidental touch. “This one has a story,” she whispered to him confidently.

If it didn’t, it was going to. She decided it was the one she wanted.

The lights dimmed. Seven did not move away, so Visha didn’t either. But her attention shifted, and her wide eyes absorbed it all with a dedication to living every moment of it thoroughly. A warning seemed an odd way to start. She had no idea what Atharim were, and in fact she presumed it was simply part of the show until Seven’s question made her wonder. Given his apparent fondness for the theatric, she still wasn’t sure.

“What are Atharim? The villains of the piece?”

When the curtains actually opened, her captivation was complete. Visha’s lips slightly parted with the wonderment.