The First Age

His hand snapped up, completely unexpectedly considering how out of it he’d seemed. The grip on her was pinching, and while it certainly felt like a restraint of flesh, the isolated movement seemed anything but human right then. The mask’s eyes swivelled as it plucked her touch free, turning to stare silently down upon her. There wasn’t anything to interpret in its neon glow, and the Emissary did not speak. It felt strangely like a machine – an automaton.

Fear swelled bright in her chest, and her eyes flared wide, but Nesrin was a committed opportunist. Her thoughts raced as fast as her heartbeat. Around them the blaring music stuttered and the lights went wild. The coincidence filled her with unease. Yet as bulbs popped overhead and the lights died again, she shifted subtly in the same moment. His silence and inaction emboldened her.

She was surprised to discover his pockets were not empty, given the venue. But then his guise was not just a party favour fetish, it was him, so far as the rumours said. Light fingertips found the hard corners of a wallet (discarded – she wasn’t that stupid). The jagged edge of keys. She flexed her caught hand as a distraction while she lifted with the other, though the Emissary still seemed unaware, then tried to pull her wrist free from him. The fingers banding it did not even resist. What the hell was it? She was caught between curiosity and self-preservation.

The party engulfed Liam. Hands tugged at his mask and he tried to keep it on, but it slipped from his grasp when a hand reached in his pants and another pair of lips sucked and licked at his neck. His will to fight was gone and distracted with the writhing of bodies around him.

The music thumped then studdered. Lights shattered but it didn't disturb the crowd much. A pair of hands tugged at his shirt, fingers scratch at his skin. The scruff of a beard prickled at the back of his neck with lips pressed tight against his skin. Liam was lost in the passion and didn't mind when bodies dragged him away from the dance floor to find a quiet place.

They stumbled past people also grasping others and the whole thing was more than Liam had ever seen. More than he'd ever felt. Liam was swept away with the passions and desires up the stairs and into a room. A bag sat on the bed and was quickly tossed to the side as Liam was pushed to the sheets and clothes were shed by all parties. Liam didn't have a count in the darkness, and really he didn't care.

It stood by the wall where it was commanded, a girl before it caught by the hand. They misted past the wall and into the body. It took a moment to orient through the senses and take control. The girl jerked away and they turned their head towards her. It took a moment to garner movement of the mouth. "Brave little cat. I am not a mouse."

The pocket to his left felt light. They did not pat it down instead held out a hand palm up. "I think you have something of ours. Ms. Bode." It cocked it's head and gazed at the nametag capturing her name. It would find her anywhere... but it couldn't here.

The Emissary’s voice sounded rough as old nails. For a moment the words had even slurred, like he’d lost the tongue somewhere inside his own head. Nesrin stared up, transfixed by the strangeness, but more so by the thrill of her own pulse. She had no problem cutting a loss and running. Names could be shed. Lives could be reinvented. But she’d take those games up to the wire sometimes – for everyone dreamed, and she’d never met anyone yet who could evade the power which exerted her will when she needed it. The flutter of it was there at the edges of her senses, heady with every breath in her chest, as he held out his hand for what she had stolen.

His keys were discrete on the underside of her palm, and for now remained there, whatever his accusation. No ordinary mark would have felt the difference in weight, and she was too good for him to have felt the lift. She looked from that waiting hand to his neon eyes, her expression hidden under the black oval of her own mask. All but the sensual eyes, clearly contemplating the demand.

Seduction was a useless tool for exoneration in this situation, though the one she considered and discarded first. He’d fled from the roaming hands of unravelling lust, else had been more interested in something else at the time, yet she’d found him completely senseless against the wall. Perhaps he had an implant of some kind – it’d explain some things. Either way Nesrin decided to push a little more.

She couldn’t exactly protest her innocence without removing the muta mask, of course, and while she was not invested in concealing her face, she wasn’t going to reveal it unless he did first. Which clearly wasn’t going to happen. The hand he’d struck like a viper, only to release the moment she resisted, turned to beckon. She thought he’d follow willingly. After all, she still had those keys.

The mouse had teeth. They followed only because the keys were still in her paws. They needed the keys to get home and in the home. To the power and the rest. The body would not like losing the keys.

She lead them through the crowd to the table. Sharpies were scattered across the table with paper name tags with sticky backs littering the table. She pulled a cap off of a marker she picked up and the body reacted like the addict it was to the smell. Its hands clenched and it was the sheer will of them that kept it still.

Her handwriting was plain and boring with no personality.

Quote:What were you looking for?

"My keys."

The eyes through the mask leveled a look at them and he chuckled and with gravely gravitas. "A strange feeling fluttered through here. We wanted to know more."

The party started to get wild. Ashton watched the room turn into an orgy. Ashton had seen things in other clubs. But he'd never been to a party. He'd seen many different types of parties and most of them didn't end well. At least not for those he'd pulled from those clubs.

Oddly staying in Nox's home was strange. He'd been a mark. And now he was a friend. Maybe, it had only been a few days. He'd killed the Blackthorns and the nest. It was good to be here. And the hacker who had been on the other end he was here too. He'd been helping. And now he asked him to contain the party.

There was only one skill Ashton had.

There was music still playing and the lights gave a sort of ambience. He got up on the counter and hooked his wallet to the speakers and changed the song. They were a bunch of classics that he knew, the Blackthorns played them often for the the eldest of them.

Ashton started singing along. At first it wasn't noticed but he gave his power to his voice and soon the mob settled.

The lights played along their skin. The thump of the music fueled the kiss and Hayden let his hands wander and made sure his partner new it was alright to go beyond what they were doing. It had been a while since he'd danced with another so fluidly as he did with this man. There was a rugged look to him, yet regal and Hayden was taken in with the way his body felt against his.

Hayden tugged at clothing and wanted to do more hand dipping past the waist line and pulling him tight against his body. Nox wouldn't mind, he thought as he started backing through the crowd towards the stairs pulling the current object of his desires that way. A breathless whisper in his new friends ear "Let's find a room. Something more comfortable and private. I know the guy who owns the joint. He won't mind."

They pushed their way through the crowd just as a guy got up on the island in the middle of the living space and started singing. It was kinda pretty but Hayden was too busy finding his way to the stairs to head up to a bedroom. There had to be plenty in a place like this and he hadn't seen many people leave before he got here.

The first room they stumbled into at the end of the hall was occupied by a threesome. Lucky ducks. Not that he'd complain.

Hayden laughed it off and shut the door and found another room just across from the bathroom and pushed open the door. Like much of the house it as hardly decorated and everything was neat and tidy. Hayden didn't bother waiting for the door to shut before clothes started to come off. He flicked the lock on the door -- no need for a repeat performance of what he just did and his attention was on the man in front of him.

The party was decent, all things considered. Obviously the alcohol helped, but these nerds weren’t so bad. He’d dispensed with his mask some time ago, and lost it too. It was far too hot, even for fashion, and by now Gideon was on the fun side of drunk anyway. There’d been an ever changing roulette of asses in his lap and arms strung around his neck as he cajoled and entertained the group of weirdos who flocked around him, and a drink was never far from hand. The stories were bullshit, not even meant to impress so much as amuse, and with his rapacious grin it wasn’t like Gideon had to do a lot of dazzling anyway.

When a familiar face showed up, he actually laughed aloud for the coincidence. He eagerly reached around his latest “friend” and shot Hayden a drunk text, with a blurry picture, lots of suggestive emojis and a location. Though it seemed Nox was satisfying an entirely different scratch tonight. Maybe it was the brief, heated show he and the woman made amongst the dancers, but when the lights plunged the lustful mood spread like wildfire after that. Honestly, Gideon wouldn’t have put orgy at the top of shit he expected to happen at a gathering of hackers. But then maybe those masks spoke of a whole fuckload of repression. He didn’t resist.

Until it occurred to him that Liam was somewhere in this mix. He wasn’t sure whether to be proud or horrified that his baby cousin was somewhere in the middle of his first orgy. Hell, he didn’t even know if the kid was still a virgin. But it did kill the mood somewhat, wondering if the next set of lips or the next wandering hand might belong to someone he’d really really rather didn’t cop a handful. He shifted, running his hands over soft skin, and playfully bit the lip caught in his just hard enough to break the flow. He extricated himself with a breathy “I’m thirsty, darling,” and a purring laugh. Soft lights hung shifting colour above, and it almost felt like they were all underwater. Actually he nearly fell right on top of her, probably a little more drunk than he expected as he used the back of the sofa to right himself. Seemed not everyone was distracted in each other. As he headed for the kitchen, some guy climbed up on the counter and began to sing.

It wasn’t a question she needed to hear the answer to from any sense of insecurity, it was just one she wanted to hear spoken aloud. A possessive smile parted the lips that met Roza’s a moment later. With the strong charge of emotion under the other girl’s skin, and the press of lust from the party above, she let herself become utterly consumed in the moment. For all Esper loved centre stage, Voxel was forgotten, though as it was he got quite the show. The high cradled her senses, and she was greedy for it: Roza the embodiment and muse for all her heightened perceptions.

Until something cut hot as a knife from somewhere in the rooms above.

A kernel of distinct pain blossomed and exploded inside, utterly distinct from the harmony of everything else. It was something Esper recognised only because the carnival lived in such close quarters, but it was the sharp twist of life and death which pulled the gasp from her. Roza covered the moment like the artist she was, but Esper was beholden to the sensations. It was isolated, a drop in the ocean compared to the rest of the party, but some feelings crowded all else out. Her gaze rose upwards, eyes blown to darkness, half intoxicated on the feel of it. Death drew like a black hole. Now the outside lust crawled like worms on a corpse.

She heard the whisper, but had trouble concentrating on the moment. As Roza commanded the spotlight, Esper ran a finger across the swell of her own lip. Fierce hunger rang hollow inside, insistent, confused, newborn impatient. Babies were selfish and all-consuming. They felt like little else but constant need, which was how she knew it could be nothing else despite the incongruity of the setting. She wished viciously that Roza could feel it as she did, for it would be sure to recoil her from ever allowing herself the condition, but Esper did not break her promises.

From the shadows her eerie gaze watched Roza kneel for Voxel like a siren, control sharp in her tone. Her invitation to a solution was still ringing softly in Esper’s ears, where the heat of breath and promise still lingered also. “We’ve felt his gift. Does he want to feel mine?” It sounded half-threat, which wasn’t incidental, for all Esper's sharply seductive smile. Better for him if he remembered the service he promised and did as he was instructed. Though the way she brushed the tip of her tongue against a fanged incisor as she stepped into the light of his power-flames likely did nothing for her trustworthiness. Gifts in Moscow could mean anything these days, after all. She tried to sort through for the nuances of Voxel’s reaction to their game, but the baby was so fucking annoying, and it was harder to differentiate between the multitude of sensations without touch.

Then something else pulled, but this time it was all singular, beautiful harmony. It turned her full around in surprise, eyes on the stairs from whence they’d come. Nothing natural did that, like a blanket of calm that made Esper want to sink to her own knees and exist only within it. Between that, the interloping impatience, and Roza’s whispered permission, Esper pushed out around her: an injection of the lust from upstairs, and a swift conclusion of satisfaction. It was a quick and violent mastery, and would catch them both quite breathless. Voxel should have been quicker to get out of his pants.

Meanwhile, Esper was starting back up the stairs, her hand outstretched behind her in invitation for Roza to follow.

Shy Narcissus was certainly comfortable with Camelia. If they wanted an audience, they succeeded in gaining one. The intensity of their passion spread the warmth of arousal within, but it was eclipsed only by the glow of smug satisfaction for a willing follower of orders.

His mind fell empty as he watched, his expression beneath the mask of a man bewitched. To that end, the ancient power twisted further around his form, conjuring, for the first time, the avatar of Voxel Adams' absurdly generic ken-doll features into the real world. He tugged the mask from his face revealing the false identity. In the same motion of dropping the mask, he tugged the zipper of his pants low to take himself out. Camelia’s approach won the fullness of his attention by then, and as chiseled as his generic his face, his eyes were dulled by the seduction of the moment.

He’d quite forgotten about Narcissus when Camelia knelt between his knees. Her serpent like features glowed sinister in the flickering light, and for a moment, a dash of fear crippled his resolve, only to be swiftly reanimated by her pleasures.

By all appearances, Voxel sank deeper into his place, only to suddenly gasp with an unexpected and immediate release. He eyed Camelia suspiciously, as though her bewitching was now a curse.

“I swear that doesn’t usually happen,” he said in his own voice. His eyes shifted toward Narcissus, lingering in the shadows of the staircase, her overlording and watchful eye settled somewhere between disdain and melodramatically sinister. He grumbled as he redressed himself.

The two women were in a hurry to leave, and as Jaxen donned his devilish mask, he had the sense that he’d been robbed.