The First Age

With her decline, Scion gently returned the two water goblets to the keep of a server. He couldn't allow her to depart, though. Questions remained. The correction of her surname from Grey to Northbrook implied the proper tones of a dutiful daughter of the Custody. It wasn't enough, though. He needed more. Waging a war against one of Ascendancy's closest and supposedly trusted soldiers would be dangerous.

He shrugged like the dismissal left no wound. He did call after the girl, however. "The people in this room are far more dangerous than the downtrodden waiting in the soup lines of the Red Cross. If I noticed your association with a particular american, others will have as well. While I only have the best interests of the Ascendancy - and by extension, the Custody - at heart, I must express some concern. We true-born Custody loyals cannot allow any threats close to the Ascendancy to go unchecked, especially when those threats embody the detonator you so aptly mocked."


His eyes roamed their surroundings, and Scion spared a slim smile for a nearby man he recognized. "A friendly piece of advice, Miss Northbrook,"
he said between a cool smile, "The calmest waters hide the most ferocious predators."
His gaze flicked around them symbolically. "Navigating those waters with a guide can be helpful,"
he paused, implying himself as such a guide. "If you have insight into splintered loyalties of those closest to our Ascendancy, and such insight prevents future betrayal, it could atone for a great debt."


Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Jun 6 2018, 09:53 PM.

He denied her a gracious exit, and so she stood her ground.

As he spoke Natalie pressed her toes against the smooth interior of her shoe, scrunching them tight until she could feel the half-healed wound on the sole of her foot constrict. It lanced pain upwards as it began to split, almost enough to water her eyes. Two.

Nikolai Brandon had plenty of American associates, even in his closest circles. He was one. Yet it did little to smooth the fractious relationship between their nations; cracks her father had only helped widen. Her family had cut ties with quick and brutal precision, like severing an arm, but the taint never fully cleaned away. Such a scandal was natural leverage in perpetuity; part of the reason Natalie so blithely dismissed insults intended to control her. Much like her mother, she did not care for these kinds of politics; but, in her grandfather's mould, she nonetheless had a gift for it.

And part of what he said she couldn't so easily shrug off.

He hadn't mentioned Jay by name, which perhaps meant he did not know it; and while he apparently knew she worked with the Cross, he did not appear to know her project of the last six months had been teaching at St. James. The information was only a little off; just enough to suggest the grasp of an unexpected opportunity, born from chance rather than planning. He painted his concerns within the frame of what he thought might motivate her; wrong, but not an unfair assumption. Atonement for her, but what for him?

She didn't know who he was, and apparently he considered his renown enough to forgo an introduction. His presence dominated; the room ebbed and flowed around him, reacting to his gaze, eager to catch his eye and attention. But though he may have pieced her name and face together, and that in itself an unusual feat, he did not have the measure of her. Not if he came to her with this offer expecting a favourable response. His friendly advice only stirred her to belligerence; he misunderstood her stakes in this; misunderstood her instinctual reaction to such gentle manipulations. But if she bristled within, it was smoothed beneath a detached, albeit cold expression.

"If the Custody had reacted faster to the turmoil in Africa, it would not have been necessary for the Legion to intervene, nor to be here now, begging aid. As it is, I owe them my life. Anyone else who may notice my association with a particular American will just as swiftly discover its innocence, as you have now, although I understand the reason for your concern. It is appreciated, of course."
She was not convinced he was a guide so much as a pale fin scything these waters himself, but he was not wrong about other predators. By elevating Jay in such an obvious way, Brandon had painted him a target -- and Natalie doubted the man in front of her was the only one seeking to twist it to his advantage. It was why, rather than acting on the urge to bite back, she instead nodded, like he had brought a crucial matter to her attention.

"Then I shall consider it an obligation to discover the truth. Such a threat cannot go unchecked, you are quite right."
All true, if misleading. And lest he think she acquiesced without a favour in return: "I trust you will be giving generously tonight."

The boy moved on and Ryker made absolutely no move to dissuade him from doing so. In fact, he moved away himself, seeking something of his own reprieve.

He shared a few passing words with those whom met the discomfort of his milky gaze. They were not many, and the natural exclusion grated. The day these scars were burned into his skin had been the worst of his life. They snaked further beneath the white of his shirt unseen, but they were etched to the bone. Nay, etched to the soul. Something the chill of champagne did little to soothe what burned within: hatred, revenge, justice.

Righting himself amid the crowd, he eventually found himself nearer the open passageways leading outdoors. The evening air brushed the ridges of his cheeks soothingly, beckoning him into their embrace.

The night was comforting despite the uplighting that cast the red brick walls with hellish reflection.

Unfortunately, he wasn't alone.

Sitting within the eye of a storm, the smoke ebbed and flowed on low currents around the throne. It fell down the stairs as though gravity lulled it low only to churn toward the ceiling in an ever-rolling, ever-moving mist of darkness. To his eyes, however, the fine threads that created the forms pulsed with the power within. Within the bubble of the center, seated casually on the throne of the Russian tsars, Nikolai allowed himself the indulgence of being embraced by the darkness.

And solitude.

To this day he was aware of this apparent contradiction in himself that manifested in events such as these. He practically lived and breathed from the adoration of the world, yet he was very uncomfortable when the world entered the walls of his home. Thus, the show of himself. The show of what he was to all of them while obscuring the true soul inside. Like the smoke that shrouded his presence from view, he was separated from those he ruled, above them. Watching like the attentive father, he waited and observed.

Three-hundred guests, not including dignitaries, security, and other attendees of function gathered within the grand hall, waiting for his appearance as much as he waited for their welcoming embrace.

These people used him to scratch and climb their way along the ladder of aristocracy, and Nikolai held no qualms for using them in return. Nor would he hesitate to wield their money, and funnel it to his own ends. That it would benefit the suffering was an after-thought; as was their suffering in the first place. And then there was Evelyn. His treasure. His gift. She said it was divine, whether Godly or some other hand of destiny, Nikolai didn't know, but neither did he deny. It was no circumstance that brought her to him exactly when it did.

He minimized the screens before him and folded the video-leaf into a small square. The malleable leaf faded to opaque as it was deactivated and tucked into a pocket. The tails of his coat fell into place as he stood. The snug waistbands of the white-tie attire was tugged ever-so-slightly, and he smoothed the sleeves of his deep black coat. Above the white, bright blue eyes shone like sapphires swirled with victorious mirth. His hair was styled neatly around the newly formed Arcus band. This new crown was similar to its predecessor in shape and style, but the metal was a brighter and more light-weight. Faint etchings curved along the rim like abstract, serpentine leaves, but seen only from the right angles.

He took a deep breath and pulled more deeply upon the power. The monstrosity of it was tamed into submission in a heart-beat, but not before the flood burned the blood a moment. It was nothing like he wielded in the Red Square when Lenin's tomb was transformed into the arch. Nor was it anything near to the depths of power forced by the ijiraq. He wavered at that thought, swallowing nervously until the fleeting moment of fear was buried by the stronger discipline of presence in the now.

This was only a little compared to all of that, but enough to draw the attention of the channelers among them. He sensed their presences emerge on the periphery over the past few minutes almost until he lost count of how many there were. Allies, so far, and permitted to do so. Otherwise, they would not be breathing.

The power tugged at the smoke, pushing and manipulating it to roll like the darkness of clouds unfurling for the God of heaven returned to his kingdom. The smoke expanded outward, snaking across the floor like tentacles snatching at the shoes of its next victims. Then, like a portal to somewhere else, the smoke parted as he descended the steps of the throne. A welcoming smile touched the glint to his eyes when the adoration soaked into his soul.

The power carried his voice on wings to all ears, "Welcome to my home. Please enjoy yourselves this night. Fancy speeches later. For now, let us celebrate."
Laughter greeted him as the smoke recoiled and eventually snuffed itself away without a single trace.

Nik let them look upon him for some moments before joining those closest for personal greetings.

The sounds of the city, the honks and just general life, competed with the hum of voices and clinking of glasses and music from inside.

It did feel better, being out here. The air was cool and the sky open. Nothing fixed. Nothing solved. The noose still around his neck. But it didn't feel so oppressive.

He supposed he should go back inside. He had someone to find. A thought sent a brief sliver of hope. Two someones.

Another person joined him. About the same height and build, though that was where the similarities ended. The man's face was scarred- burned?- though from what he wasn't sure.

That wasn't what really hit him though. This was the man he'd been sent to meet. Or rather, to deliver the note to. And on that note, his face darkened. Ivan burned inside. The humiliation of it. That bitch was using him as an errand boy. Another test. Another dig. Another hook.

He eyed the man, not able to keep the irritation from showing. Who was he that Yun Kao wanted to talk to him? Obviously of some importance, since he was here at this swanky event.

He pulled the note from his pocket and held it out, though not bothering to cross the space to give it to him. "Someone asked me to give this to you,"
he said, his voice low and angry.

Scion Marveet
PPC

"I am more philanthropic than one might guess by looking at me, I suppose. I come from humble origins myself."
His smile lingered on the sharpness of his tongue, knowing that of the two of them, she was the more privileged of the pair. What had this girl done to earn her lavish lifestyle other than draw a lucky hand? There was a reason that Ascendancy only chose those from whom built their own success to be his advisers. Scion was only a logical addition to the circle of influence.

What a circle it was, too. As the girl withdrew, he did not stop her a second time. Instead, his gaze lifted beyond her slender shoulders only to land on someone that was her exist antithesis. Marcus DuBois, the urchin turned intern turned Consul. There was no mistaking the cut of his shoulders or the profile of his face. Scion vaguely recalled encountering the Sigma out at some restaurant at some point. However, now that the intern was elevated to position of actual power in the government, his name was cemented in the mind of many whom may be thought as competitors - or perhaps - as enemies.

A low growl rumbled the back of his throat as the young consul led some woman away. Another target to pursue, but with his promotion, would be all the more difficult to destroy given the change in his status. Too many foreigners cluttered the upper echelons of their government, and when Scion's time came to enter the arena, the field needed culling first.

Vena found him a few moments later. The dark-haired beauty smiled up at him such that the darkness was chased from his expression. Scion smiled in return and offered to lead her for a dance. As he did, he realized the new Consul was likewise present, and an idea formed.

He swept Vena up in his arms and the pair made an elegant coupling. He squeezed her slender hand a moment, pricked her gaze with a silent one of his own, and lead them through the motions.

Their conversation went something along the lines of:

"These ascendants are smartly attired,"
"Handsome and authoritative,"
"Powerful as well. Did you know what they did to that Andlain criminal?"
"Remarkable."
"Favored by Ascendancy."
"Favored by Moscow."
"Favored by D1 itself."
"To think of what they will lead for our nation. The influence and power."
"But are they military?"
"What of that new Consulate I've heard about."
"I think they are not under their jurisdiction?"
"That's what the rumors say."
"I wonder if that bothers that new Consul."
"Maybe he can't control them anyway?"
"Is that another rumor?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"He is young. Give him time."
"The time is now. Maybe one with more experience should lead."
"You are too swift to criticize."
"Luckily it is not my place to make such decisions. I am only a humble citizen."

Did anyone ever stop to think about how weird a behavior dancing was? Two human beings standing close together and infinitely attempting to trip one another but not actually doing it.

Granted, the behavior was all over the animal kingdom. The courtship dances were observed in every species from spiders to mammals. Wonder what dinosaurs did? Now that would be trippy.

Danika was more than happy to let Marcus lead her around. If left to her own devices, she was likely to break out the classics like "the sprinkler," "the chicken dance," or "the macarana." As those were unlikely to be 'classy enough' for a grand ball, she opted to look like a minimally drunk person and sway side to side like normal.

After a few minutes, she loosened up. Her arms moved more openly. Her steps became more elaborate. At one point she pivoted like she might spin, but instead she kicked a foot to the side to carry out this elaborate plan to point a shoe and see her skirt twirl.

Instead, the shoe came flying off and whacked into some guy's butt.

She threw her hands over her mouth and gasped when he turned around and blinked at her, likely trying to determine the source of the unfortunate butt-smacking.

Emily smiled as Jared took her hand and led her out to the dance floor, only to be interrupted by the arrival of the Ascendancy himself. A quick speech and the party was back on. That seemed odd, but Emily just went with it.

Jared, it seemed, did know how to dance. He went quickly to a ballroom stance and began to lead her through a simple box step. She smiled once again at him, all thoughts of Nox vanishing in a moment.

Emily's thoughts went back to how she felt about this man. She wasn't certain she would call it love - not yet anyways - but she knew she had never felt this way about another man before. It had all happened so fast, and Emily was uncertain as to where it came from.

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted as something moved through the air and hit Jared. They paused, and looked down to see a lady's shoe on the ground. Quickly looking, they found the culprit - a pretty woman with Consul Dubois - Emily easily recognized him. Emily put a hand to her mouth and quietly tried to hold back a few giggles.

Emily seemed to relax quickly. Whoever she had seen in the crowd had unsettled her, but it soon seemed to drop as they began to twirl in a simple fox-trot. Jared had taken ballroom dance in college many years ago, but the thing with ballroom dance was that even the simplest moves could look elegant.

Jared looked into her eyes and she opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted as something hit Jared in the butt. Both Emily and Jared looked down and saw a woman's shoe on the ground and only a quick look was needed to find the responsible party. A woman with an embarrassed look on her face - who only happened to have one shoe.

Jared saw her and blinked while Emily tried to stifle some giggles. It wasn't long before Jared smiled at the complete ridiculousness of the whole situation.

Jared bent down, picking the shoe up off the ground and adjusting his Legionnaire dress uniform as he stood. Emily took his other hand and walked with his as he approached the woman holding out the shoe to her.

"Ma'am,"
he said with a disarming smile. "I think you may have dropped this."

She was light on his arm. Her movements weren't perfect, but then neither were his. That wasn't the purpose anyway. The point of dancing, he knew, was to allow two bodies to feel the flow of music through them, the sense of rhythm moving them in choreographed time. The more audacious had no problem improvising, of course, the physical equivalent of vocal runs in a song.

it was a bonding ritual that involved looking into the other person's eyes, strengthening a new connection; the feel of two bodies, pressed together closely, a revealing of how they physically meshed (with all the sensual promise that held); the aroma, breath and scents mingling, communicating with the lizard brain; the sound of conversation, in private talk or just breathing or laughter, conveying feelings; the music itself, its rhythm coursing through them, syncing them into one, even if for only a single song.

Marcus noted all of this. Malik reveled in the experience, sinking into each sensation as one might sink in a deep and luxuriously soft leather chair. The two complemented each other, and Marcus/Malik's merger continued. The Sith wanted the experience in totality.

And yet, not at the expense of any other experiences. Not a straying eye. Not now at least. Not that he held any qualms or sense of loyalty or morality. His eye would roam, tonight. For now, though, this was his primary focus for experience.

But he did not shut himself completely away. Peripherally he was aware of those around him and Marcus mentally categorized those he recognized. A slight smile played at his lips when he saw Scion Marveet speaking to Natalie Northbrook. Her body language spoke volumes. He seemed to get nowhere with her, her posture and icy hauteur speaking volumes. He couldn't help the soft laugh.

The man aspired to enter the Sphere- at least the outer one, he had learned only recently, during one of his...probing conversations with one of Alexandrova's aides. And yet still, Marveet found it necessary to cut him down when he had merely been an intern. A Sigma, it was true, but an intern nonetheless. It was sad. Marcil indeed. He had begun some work with White with regard to Marveet.

But of course now that he was Consul, things might change. Yesterday's enemies become today's allies. Levers and strings were the tools of his trade. Perhaps Marveet could be useful.

Malik continued to dance with Danika, reveling in the moment. Marcus noted Marveet's joining them in the dance. The trajectory, while a facade of randomness, was rather blatant. The motion of people on the floor, all following in a counterclockwise direction was rather predictable. Their getting close was not.

Idly he wondered at his intent. And then he caught the bits of conversation. Marcus very nearly rolled his eyes and laughed. The timing of the words, the nearness of the speakers...well, one didn't have to be a genius to figure out what was going on.

He'd have to think about what to do about Marveet. The man was not without influence and his fortune was vast. He'd need a subtle hand. Still, it wouldn't hurt to let the man think he had gotten under his skin. He grimaced briefly, compressing his lips together momentarily, and shot the man an angry look before looking with frustration to at one of the Nine walking the floor periphery.

There.

Danika still aware, his focus merged with Malik. Danika was getting more adventurous, it seemed.

And then the music stopped for a moment. Marcus felt the Force surge and the fog coalesce into the Ascendancy. It was dramatic. Those without the ability to channel gasped- as did many who did. Having the power was not the same as knowing how to use it. His voice boomed, welcoming them.

Very soon the music began and people hesitantly started dancing again. Marcus swung Danika around, feeling the energy in the air. He felt free tonight, completely free. At one point, passing near the edge, he grabbed a flute and downed the champagne in one gulp, before seizing the power and floating it to an empty table.

He smiled at her, letting her see the pleasure washing over him. Her playfulness was still there and she moved to try something. At that moment her shoe flew through the air. He couldn't help but laugh, though not cruelly, as it struck one of the legionnaires on his ass. "Hey, I didn't know you wanted us to kick off our shoes to dance. Here, let me get mine."


She looked mortified, of course, and he was trying to lighten the mood. Still holding the power, he meant to grab the shoe quickly and bring it back, but he was too slow. The Legionnaire had picked it up and brought it, along with his companion, over to them. The man, quite polite to Danika, he didn't recognize, but the woman was familiar- and giggly.

Marcus was glad no one felt decorum had been breached. This was a party, after all. There was room for business and pleasure.

Indeed, often, they could be the same, he thought, looking at Danika's beautiful face. He winked at her, showing all was good. Then he inclined his head fractionally to the couple. He would not speak for Danika, though. He had not been addressed.

Still, after a moment, a glint appeared in his eyes as something occurred to him. He took the proffered shoe and bent down, offering his shoulder for support while he slipped it on to her naked foot.

And then he winked up at her before standing.


Edited by Marcus DuBois, Jun 25 2018, 12:23 PM.