The First Age

Carpenter and Natalie passed by, but Nikolai spared them only a moment's study before laughing at Ryker's humor. "Trust me, Evelyn, Ryker is one of the best at what he does."
Nik nodded with more emphasis than usual accolades. Soon after, he excused himself, beckoning Evie that she accompany him along the way.

Just before returning to the ball, a twist settled in his gut. He paused, glanced over one shoulder, and studied the departing Ryker.

He shook off the fading feeling, smiled for Evelyn and together returned. Very quickly, he was engulfed by the guests. The swell of the power pressed upon the crowd, but he trusted that the Rods were in control of monitoring the situation.

It didn't escape his attention that many a guest recognized he was in company of the American representative. He could already imagine the rumors, and he was little inclined to silence them. In fact, boldness quickened his playfulness. He offered a hand to Evelyn. "May I have a dance, Representative?"


He ordered the music to be transformed in the following moments. Swing music, while harkening back to the fads of his youth, was inappropriate. Like a king in his court, the guests parted as he led her to the center of the hall. More and more eyes fixated on them, but he didn't care. This was their night. Standing before one another, he clasped her hand and leaned close, "This is all for you, Evelyn,"
he whispered.

He pulled her close. This was no American style dance where partners separated and moved independently like some metaphor of inherent cultural rebellion. He kept her close, shadowed before him.

Music rippled through the air. Evelyn embodied the grace and beauty of the waltz. Nikolai himself was competent, but she was the star. He was only the canvas upon which she was displayed.

If the people didn't love her before, they would adore her now.

[[Evelyn & Ryker moded with permission.]]

The music swiftly changed and the Ascendancy made his way on to the dance floor. Nox gracefully bowed for Vena and escorted her from the dance floor. While he could waltz, he wasn't about to stand in the same vicinity as the leader of half the known world. He didn't have a death wish and if the Ascendancy didn't know he was here personally he didn't want him to find out now.

God forbid the man think he was here to assassinate him or something. Nox pressed a kiss to Vena's hand. "A pleasure."
and gave her a sweeping bow before he departed. The woman was political, not Nox's style, she was rich and haughty and probably wasn't even interested in dancing anyway.

Nox headed for the bar but found Cruz had disappeared. Fuck me!

He turned and looked around the crowd and didn't really see him. So he headed in the direction of outside. The rich and famous wouldn't miss him.

Nox felt so many presences in the room, some even sent shivers down his spine. It didn't surprise him that women could channel here too. But it made him wonder how many here could and how many could not. Was this some sort of test? Was this a ploy by the Atharim.

Nox sighed as he spotted Cruz and Jensen, Cruz was following his movements but he was holding the power and demonstrating a weave to the healer. It looked like the one Manix had shown him. Cruz was busy learning so Nox headed out the door to the balcony. A breath of fresh air might do him some good. And at least no one would miss him. Not even Cruz.

Scion Marveet


Vena allowed the man of interest to depart in other company, meanwhile, Scion occupied his time chatting with various men and women he knew. When the music changed tempo, himself and those in his immediate company were distracted enough to seek an explanation.
“Scion, is that Vena?”
Maximillion inquired, amused.
“Yes, it is.”
He replied, annoyed by the obviousness of the question.

Their dancing was ridiculous. How she knew the steps, Scion would inquire later, but there was nothing he could do to interrupt now without ramifications he was unwilling to bear.

The wave of Ascendancy’s hand ceased the obscene music, consequently breaking Vena from the arms of her partner. Although accompanied by the American politician, Scion’s gaze followed Vena as she departed in the other direction.

The man whom she had been dancing with journeyed outside.

Scion followed him. Who was this young man that Vena found valuable enough to spend more than five seconds in his company? More importantly, who was he to Ascendancy?

“Worked up quite a sweat?”
Scion interrupted the depth of his thoughts, this kid who likely thought himself alone, and joined him.

So much for being alone outside. Nox smirked at the question as he leaned down on the railing overlooking the rest of the yard beneath. "Hardly, I could do that all night."


Nox didn't turn to look at his new dance partner, because that's all this was. He was here to suss him out, he was here because he danced with someone he cared for. It wasn't the first, nor the last time it had happened. And it always ended up the same way. Though a fight in the middle of some fancy ball was hardly going to go down. But a man was a man and most of them were possessive assholes - himself included.

And Nox was sure this man didn't fight his own fights. Nox continued as if nothing had interrupted his words. "Let me guess, I was dancing with your wife/girlfriend/sister and you are here to put me in my place."


Nox turned and looked at the man who was here. He was an older gentleman, much older than Vena which meant one of two things, she really liked old guys, or she was in it for the money. Possibly both, but Nox would bank the remainder of the money in his pocket on the latter. The man seemed vaguely familiar, though Nox didn't know why, he didn't really care. This man was nothing. And any body guard he might have on hand he could snap like a twig if he wanted to. Not that he wanted to use his gift to hurt people, but he would if this man threatened his life. Nox smile sweetly at him waiting for the first round of threats to commence.

Oriena melted into the crowd. Some familiar gazes shied away from hers, but she was not invested in petty secrets, or even the thrill of tightening thumb screws. They were safe from her tonight. Maybe forever. Her attention diverted, flighty, and old charms lost their shine. Her gaze washed the chandeliered heights above, in apparent awe of their lavish surroundings as she twined a meandering path. Not at all scoping her surroundings as she snagged another drink from a passing tray, suppressing a smile.

She tracked the figures in black, curious. Listened to the breath of rumour; let it grow like thorns through her thoughts, the dark stain of an immerging idea.

Until some fool drunk fool knocked into her. Reflexively her grip on the champagne glass loosened, like it tumbled by sheer accident. But it never smashed to the floor as intended. Her gaze sparked up. His plain tux had seen service; a rental. Not one of the diamond bright elite, then, which begged the question of how he'd found himself here. And perhaps betrayed how very alone he was. His brows rose like an invitation, but the only thing he nominated himself for was willing victim.

He didn't fit.

Not that Ori fit either, but she was comfortable in costume.

And my, was she an actress.

Her eyes widened as the glass rose, the stranger's expression cocky with the flourish, like she was supposed to be impressed by such parlour tricks. But it wasn't awe flooding her expression or pulling her a stumbling step back. "What are you doing?"


The glass rose higher, spinning. Not on his whim, anymore, but only he knew that.

She knocked into the people behind, felt a hand try to steady her. Curious attention turned to the spectacle. Drank in the frightened girl and the smirking man, then rose to the glass on its wild trajectory, like it rapidly began breaking free from the bonds of control.

To crack and send shining shards straight towards her.

Ori flinched as pain razored her cheek, below the bone. A few other hot stings of pain lanced, but that one was exquisite. She leaned back into the stranger propping her up, like the surprise of the injury unset her. Shaking fingers brushed the jagged fragment where it embedded, the familiar burn of welling blood hot on her skin.

Someone screamed.

Oriena slinked away, slipping into the crowd. He almost felt sorry for whomever she set her sights, but not sorry enough to do anything about it. If anything, he hoped for a good view of the spectacle to come.

Ascendancy continued to show off just how magnificant he was. Jaxen wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall if Tarin ever decided to have a chat with the man. Unlikely to happen, given that the whole alternate dimension teleportation seemed like a rare event, or it was completely fabricated in his own head, but would be entertaining none the less.

The boys in black roamed like watch dogs. A few grew side-tracked by conversations. One or two even showed off their fledgling skills for captivated on-lookers as well. Jaxen rolled his eyes.

His fingers itched to pick-pocket. He mastered the skill in Mumbai, but only now contemplated how to weave the ancient power into the trickery. It would take practice on his part, to split his focus enough to handle channeling while working the magic of his hands. It was worth a shot tonight, anyway.

It was while window-shopping for the best jewels that he realized Nox was here. Maybe the ball wouldn't be so boring after all? All out laughter erupted when Nox lured Vena into his arms for all to see. Scion was not known for being a sharing man. Watching his current girlfriend twirled about in the arms of an American no less was likely to boil his father's blood.

He almost felt bad for Nox when Scion followed him outside. Scion was hell of a scary dude, even for Jaxen, whom all his siblings regarded as the favorite child.

A scream stopped him.

There was a flicker of power coming from the direction. Like others, curious and confused by what was happening, he pushed his way through.

A blood-flecked Oriena seemed on the verge of fainting.

A sly smirk ghosted his lips before he erupted to the forefront.

"DARLING!"
He swept in to scoop up the beloved while his own dark eyes shot daggers at her attacker. Glass crunched underfoot. "What did he do to you?"

What had begun as a fun bit of showing off suddenly turned ugly. Like really badly ugly. The woman stared in terror at the glass, stumbled back as if scared to death.

All humor fell from him immediately and he dropped the power. Like seriously, in a single heartbeat it was gone. He didn't even think about the glass falling to the ground and shattering, didn't worry about shards scattering freely to cut someone's feet. The fear in her eyes was like a stab to his gut.

And the mother fucking glass continued to float in the air, spinning faster and faster. There was no feel of the power nearby, no threads holding it up. What the fuck?!?

He felt a chill go up his spine. Something was not right here. Not right at all.

And all of a sudden the glass shattered outward, exploded, jagged slivers flying like knives in every direction, champagne raining outward. His jaw dropped as he saw the woman's face. He seized the power, tried to get a thread of air in time.

Too late. Droplets of blood appeared. Most were superficial. But the one under her jaw....fuck fuck fuck!!!! The power made it all too clear. He could see the twinkle of glass, a tiny piece but no less deadly for all of that, had embedded itself there.

People milled about in horror. There were screams. Ivan reached out to her, to steady her, to help her. Instead, another man swooped in, taking her under his care. Even as he checked on the woman, he shot him a look of pure anger and hate. "What did he do to you!"
he asked worriedly.

Ivan was stunned. "I didn't....I didn't do anything."
Someone had. His mood dropped. This wasn't a time for being confused. He was trained for this. He focused his attention, looking around for anyone behaving suspiciously.

And what he saw was everyone looking at him with fear. Many had shifted back, some pushing against others to get away. There were further shouts and suddenly, Ivan felt hands grab at his arms. Two men, draped in black, held him.

More importantly, they held the power to the full. And they were strong. The look they shot him was full of threat, their power trained on him like a gun. "Drop it! Now!"
one commanded.

Immediately he let the power go. He had to defuse the situation. This was as intense as any shoot out he'd ever seen. This was about as bad as it could be. He had to get control of the situation. He held his hands out defensively. "I didn't do it. I'm a cop. There, in my breast pocket. You'll see."


And he didn't move. Talking too much got people killed. The second pulled his wallet and shield from his pocket with power, held it up to the first. "Well, he has credentials, anyway. Could be fake though."


The first asked threateningly, "What are you doing here?"


Need to keep everyone calm. "The Ascendancy ordered me to come. As security."


Number two looked at him flatly. "The Ascendancy. Really."
He stepped forward. "Man, this is a dangerous game you are playing."


Ivan stayed calm though part of him wanted to just explode. He hated Brandon, now. And yet now he was the only man who could get him out of this.

His voice cool, hiding the thread of fear that kept threatening to take over, he said, "Check with him. His aides."


He looked over at the woman and guilt twisted his gut. He hadn't done this. He knew what he was doing. At least enough for that. He had dropped the power, period! Still, if he hadn't been acting like a fucking moron....Someone had framed him. Somehow. Using the power in a way that was hidden.

God help everyone if people could channel in secret, with no oversight.

One thing at a time, Vanya. Just don't get killed here and now. Or thrown in jail. Or worse. Worry about the rest later.

[[ooc- i didn't name the Rods. Feel free to make them whomever anyone wants to.]]


Edited by Ivan Sarkozy, Jul 26 2018, 06:10 PM.

The sound of his name passing her lips would unravel him. It took every last shred of control to not return to the invitation implied in her tease. He thought about it. Walk away, he should have told himself. But he feared that a single step, even one intended in the opposite direction, would carry him back to her instead.

Luckily, the choice was snatched before he made it. Slender fingers slipped into his arm, he swallowed, half relieved and half disappointed. It was time, his head knew it, but god he wanted to stay. Her warning wrenched him back to the real world, though. He found himself studying the distance as though peering through the walls themselves. She saw the threat hidden in gowns and tuxedos. Money rippled through the room like air. Power an identical twin to money; inseparable. If she didn’t know half the people in the room, he didn’t know a single one apart from the Dominions, the other Legionnaires, Nox and Jared. Light knew that three-fourths of that group was dangerous, if only to be proven to follow their own agenda. Jared was a soldier. While he was a good man likely to follow his heart, he rode alongside Jay in that same vehicle that drove away from Masaika. He turned his rifle upon the enemies deemed so by Danjou. Suffice to say, he would follow orders. Nox was likely the only true ally, but Jay wasn’t naïve enough to really believe that the weak bond between them was strong as the cords of blood. Nox’s priorities were elsewhere. Jay would be pissed at him if they were directed at anyone other than his family.

Money, power and memory flowed deep as ocean currents in that room. Jay had no reason to think anyone would consider him for more than anything than the uniform and pin on his chest. This wasn’t the US. This wasn’t Nicaragua. He had no enemies in that room.

Natalie, though, was a much more realistic target. Easy bait, or so they would imagine. Jay knew that she was no prey. In fact, he would not be surprised when she turned the sharpness of her mind into the strike of a predator should she ever be cornered. He could almost feel sorry for anyone stupid enough to think to cross her; at least cross her where she did not want to be crossed.

Regardless, he wondered if her proximity to himself may attract or discourage the kind of attention she referenced. Suppose they’d find out eventually. He grinned with morbid encouragement, “it’s a good thing you’ll be visiting the US. Gives the common folk some good rumors to circulate in our absence.”


Ascendancy and Evelyn didn’t make it far, he soon learned. But it was the man in their company that demanded Jay’s attention.

He recognized another operator at twenty paces. It had nothing to do with the thick hide of scars masking his face. It had everything to do with the comfort in his stance, his presentation to Ascendancy, and the roam of his studious gaze as it absorbed Jay. Jay recognized it immediately. It was his own.

In a moment’s glance he knew the man’s strengths. Which were pretty much everything about him. But there was power in awareness. Jay recognized one of his own kind, but there was something far more calm about the man than what churned in the depths of the everyday grunt. He wasn’t just the everyday operator. He was more.

Returning to the grandness of the ball was like emerging into sunshine after a week below ground. An ironic metaphor given his recent accommodations. Locating Jensen wasn’t as easy a task as he hoped. The sea of black and white tuxedoes were mindlessly homogenous. Jensen didn’t exactly stand out in a crowd.

He seized their power, letting a trickle that would mostly go unnoticed but by any channelers in arms’ reach, and let the senses of sight and sound flood his head. The moment flickered his expression with the darkness of dangerous concentration, only to fade moments later. Those first few seconds were always a struggle. Given those he’d talked to, it was likely to be a struggle for the rest of his life. There was always standing on the edge of a precipice, where a heartbeat separated the abyss from solid ground.

“There,”
he nodded in Jensen’s direction as he returned the earpiece to its place. There was some motion across the room, and suddenly his ears flooded with warnings.
Jensen forgotten, the power was drawn like officers drawing their weapons.

Karim’s voice dominated the chaos of communication filling his ears.

“Something’s happened,”
he warned Natalie, just as the music dropped and the crowd grew quiet. A scream punctured the evening of all color.

Two dominions cornered the risen threat. A girl was hurt. Jay didn’t rush forward as his legs demanded he do. Something about this didn’t settle well in his gut. If there were threats here, they would not lash out at some random female guest. It was too risky a night to make an attempt on anyone’s life except Ascendancy, or maybe Secretary of State, either of which were ultimately a suicide mission anyway.

Jay planted himself in place and scanned the remainder of the room. The places others ignored. He spoke to the remainder of the Dominions. “This could be a distraction. Someone stay close to Ascendancy. I’m watching the perimeter.”


Edited by Jay Carpenter, Jul 27 2018, 09:36 AM.

Scion Marveet
PPC

The kid would be surprised by the blood on Scion’s hands. He was not the sort of boss that waved a hand and an enemy was executed. No. He pulled the trigger himself.

The cocky kid reminded him of Jaxen a little. Though Jaxen was smart enough to actually know who it was he pissed off. This little American brat was too stupid to even attempt awareness.

He shook his head. “Girlfriend, to be accurate, but I do not worry about Vena.”
His smile was the grin of a shark about to devour its dinner.

He crossed closer, the cool air rippling waves of hair. This was not the first time Scion peered over these railings. It was a remarkable feat that he was here at all. For most of his youth, he was one of the masses longing upward, reaching for apparently unattainable heights. Yet he clawed and climbed until he stood on top of the world. One pretty woman was nothing to give him a moment of consideration.

“Don’t worry, son. There will be no retaliation. I am not threatened by you,”
he watched for what he assumed would be a flippant, obnoxious American reaction.

“I am here to—“
a scream stopped him as he looked over one shoulder.

She ought not be surprised that the drama drew Jaxen like a moth to flame. He played at chivalry, scooping her up like a doll. Irritation rattled her deep within, but Ori let him, tangling her hand in the front of his shirt and leaning into his protectiveness as he glared out at her supposed attacker.

Leaving delightfully bloody fingerprints on the crisp white.

Her wide gaze took in events as they unfolded. It was nothing personal. She just wanted to absorb the reaction of the men in black, see how tightly they were strung -- and what force they might bring to quash upstarts. Or if there were any other hidden security measures that might rise to the fore. Actually it was somewhat disappointing.

The man in question looked stunned. Perhaps even mortified. Not that she felt bad, particularly when he revealed he was a cop.

"I--"
Fuck, but that hurt. She felt the glass move, threaten to slice straight through the flesh and flood her mouth with blood. There was nothing feigned in the wince of pain as the words cut off.