His heart sank. The feeble grip with with he clasped at Natalie may have well as slipped away. If not Patron Northbrook, that left one option. Jay had a bet how it was going to go with Ascendancy.
He accepted the wallet. Blackness overtook Cayli's face as he steadied himself to confront the man himself. Another soul to lay his own bare before. Painful, but if it got him to Cayli in time, he'd rip out his own a million times for those wolves inside.
He was staring at the bob and sweep of heads within when her voice, steady as ice on dark ocean waters, pulled him back. The words were met with blinks as he processed the information. Evelyn Avalon was a name he knew, if only because of her recent spike in Russian news and the elevation of her beauty to the pinnacle of conversation for a few days. In Moscow, yes, but Jay didn't care. He disliked politics but for what it meant to a soldier. He hated that the two were more entwined than he would admit.
So he knew quite little about her beyond the mess-hall talk. Natalie's suggestion implied she had pull with the right people, but who in Congress could extract him from CCD borders? Unless it involved some kind of operation, there was no way. Even then, that would take time to plan and the stakes too high between their nations to risk such an operation.
Evelyn was a channeler. Maybe she had some unknown use of the power at her disposal that could see him through ticketing. Could she manipulate his identity? Change security? Convince someone to give passage?
None of that made sense. His blinks transformed to frowns, then. Natalie was suggesting something else. Something far less clandestine and far more base.
"She has a lot to lose to go to war with Ascendancy over me. I seem to find myself no longer American,"
he showed her the mark of D1 on his arm, "nor Custody; yet I have to walk paths bearing allegiance to both."
It couldn't be done, of course, not when two nations were so antithetical to each other. It didn't mean Jay wouldn't try. He may rip apart in the effort, but dammit, he'd try.
The furrow to his brow smoothed. Decision made. Dice cast and bet laid. "Do you know where we can find her?"
He smirked, waiting to be led. Certainly, this was a path to the hangman if ever there was one.
But it was the only chance he had.
Jensen shared a smile for Nox, one that was slightly easier when some space was opened up between them. That smile was tempered by the understanding that Aria must have passed away. Nox spoke about her as if she was gone.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Nox. You seem to have been close to her."
He was next introduced to Cruz, to whom Jensen also offered a handshake.
"Our gifts?"
He asked, glancing at the others around them. How many channelers did Ascendancy invite to this ball?
"Our gifts. Sure, of course. Any time, Mister Vega."
Cruz's arrival seemed to coincide with Jay's departure, so the group soon became encircled once more.
"So I guess it's my turn to ask. I take it that you two know each other."
He glanced between Cruz and Nox.
"That must mean you and I are the odd couple out?"
He smiled at Vena.
Edited by
Jensen James, Jul 7 2018, 09:30 PM.
"It wouldn't be a war over you, and certainly not with him. Helping you might right a wrong, though. But I've only spoken with her briefly, I could have misjudged."
Her gaze diffused on the shadows beyond; the faint ripple of a breeze, and the promise of a comparative quiet she'd only captured for a few scant moments. Truthfully she didn't want an excuse to rejoin the crowd; he didn't really need her to secure his ticket. Evelyn had a good heart; Jay only had to play upon it in the right manner to win her support. Caught in the magnanimity of his own damn ball, Brandon would be hard pressed to brush such a desperate plea aside. It would suggest he did not see the Nine as men at all.
"And with enemies on both sides just waiting for you to stumble on that narrow path."
A true warning would likely waste her breath, but her gaze did move back to him, pale and unflinching. At least he recognised the bind of his position, if she wondered at exactly what had transpired for him to accept the uniform in the first place. He hadn't mentioned Danjou at all, nor appeared to consider Jared's help. "You made a deal with the wrong devil if you're afraid he'll deny you compassionate leave."
Given they stood in the heart of the Kremlin, she didn't stumble over naming Brandon so. She might have smirked if weary reserves were not already so focused on simple detachment -- especially if she was going to help in this. Questions and concerns fled behind the veil. She'd displayed no surprise at seeing him here, nor even a remote amount of fear considering she stood within the shadow of a supposed murderer. He'd never mentioned the drunk message, and in some ways she was glad -- it would only reopen the door to the rest of that night, and its ghost haunted her diligently enough already.
Easier to be Natalie Northbrook, granddaughter of a Patron; easier to assume the role he cast for her, and forget everything that came before.
She pivoted, foot stinging, and scanned the guests. Quatre choses que vous pouvez toucher. Her nails pushed crescents into her palms to the final count of four, like donning fresh armour before reentering the field of war. "She's looking for Brandon, I think."
Cruz chuckled at the formal addressing. He was hardly Mister Vega. That was his grandfather, his father was Detective Vega. He was just Cruz, but he didn't say anything.
Nox's friend left their circle - preoccupied by a phone call. What was more important that networking at the moment? Obviously, he'd already made connections if he was one of these Nine Rods of Dominions.
But he had requested Jensen James not go anywhere. Which made it all that more curious. But Cruz was more than amenable to that end. Cruz gave Vena a smile at their odd couple out comment. "Nox is sort of an employee, sort of family."
He said in reference to their relationship. "He's here as my body guard, he's doing a poor job of it."
The look Cruz got from Nox made the younger man laugh. Nox only rolled his eyes. "Stay with Mr. James, Cruz. Talk shop. I'll be back in a bit."
Cruz was more than happy to stay and talk shop as it were. He gave Ms. Vena a smile. "If you'll excuse us."
He led Jensen away. "Nox has no talent for healing. I've seen the news. I know what you did for the Ascendancy. I was hoping you might be able to show me how you do it. I'm a quick learner."
The music was boring. The people were more boring. If it weren't for Jay he'd probably have already fled outside to the fresh air away from all the stuffy people. Ms. Vena was a golden respite in the circle and she seemed like she wanted to get deeper involved with Jay but he was gone with the phone.
Cruz wanted to talk to Jensen and Nox, well he wanted to dance. But the music sucked. Nox flipped to a music app that had the sheet music on his wallet and started flipping for a song. Something that wouldn't rile the constituents of Ascendancy's house, but something that was at least dance worth.
"Stay with Mr. James, Cruz. Talk shop. I'll be back in a bit."
Nox made his way through the crowd over to orchestra who was playing some waltz. Boring... Nox could do it but it was boring. He looked for the coordinator who was standing by listening intently.
"Play something a little more up beat? Just one, see how it goes over?"
Nox showed him the sheet music.
The man debated, he looked at the people, then back at the orchestra and gave a simple nod.
"I think we can do one song."
Nox grinned.
"Much appreciated."
Cruz had given him cash beforehand and Nox tipped the man with half of it. It was worth it and he appreciated it. It was one song."
Nox went back to their small circle and smiled at Vena offering her a hand.
"Care for a dance?"
It felt odd not saying Duckling, and not truly wanting to get laid, but Nox needed to dance. He wasn't so drunk he couldn't dance. He was still feeling it but his head was less woozy as he grabbed the power inside. It felt better, he didn't draw upon it, just held it in his grasp. The things he could do to impress the fancy lady. He kept his grin light while he waited for her answer. And the new music to start playing. He was sure no one would expect a song from the 1920s much less a big band tune played by a full orchestra. Nox knew it would be grand.
Edited by
Nox, Jul 8 2018, 03:00 PM.
"Well, good thing I'm used to being surrounded by enemies."
He smirked until her empty expression settled onto him once more. There was a glaze to her eyes, it was almost like peering into a mirror that there was no seeing beyond. All of the care and warmth with which she protected the children in Masiaka seemed too distant to have been real in comparison. If it weren’t for the common thread of sardonic humor, she wouldn’t seem like the same person.
Her description of dealing with devils hurt more than Jay thought it would. He hadn't asked for this uniform. Hadn't asked to be in this room. Making deals with devils didn't look good; and this certainly fit the description. She probably thought he lept from flag to flag without thought for past oaths. Wearing the crest of D1 on his arm was breaking about the biggest one. Jay left the marines, but not of his own accord. The day he turned in his gear, the oath wasn't suddenly invalidated. So yes, he made a deal with the devil; being here tonight, and paraded around for show, was part of that deal, but only a small part. Every step along the path to this point was the right thing to do at the time. Soul be damned.
She turned away, poised to depart. Maybe it was the color of her dress or maybe it was the hour, but she was pale as the moon. Flickering in and out of sight like shy stars. The earlier wound faded as he watched her. Almost like her pain siphoned his own. She was in pain. Maybe not physically. Not like the cries of an innocent, scared girl that echoed in his mind, but no less real. Natalie was simply strong enough to contain it. Would that pain make her stronger? Or would it warp and break her?
He took a breath and reached for the palm that she so desperately dug. Jay wielded no illusions that he understood her, but for what he sensed, he wanted to ease. If only for a moment until the wound knit itself together and the scars faded.
Edited by
Jay Carpenter, Jul 8 2018, 09:31 PM.
The man- Ryker- took his hand. He was no nonsense. And there was a solidity about him. Despite himself, Ivan felt some of the tension drain away. Maybe it was because he was actually doing something instead of spoiling for a meaningless fight.
He already knew the contents of the note. Yun Kao had told him what to write. He supposed Yun might be thought of as attractive, but not by Ivan. And it had nothing to do with the fact she was Asian or her scars or even how she looked. His comment was flippant. "I imagine that any night with her might start off well enough. Until she decided to eat you. And not the way you're talking about. She is called The Spider, after all."
He pointed at the note. "This place. It's where I first met her. She likes to sink her teeth into people. Blackmail them. Breathes threats and murder as if they are nothing."
That last was whispered with all the hatred he had ever felt.
He remembered the display. His Ma and Pop, guns to their head. His little brother and sister, crying. He couldn't help the snarl that escaped his lips.
He looked from the man out into the ball, saw all the rich and powerful swarming around, oblivious to the decay, the decadence, the disease that ate at the empire. The rot of exploitation. And there, above it all stood the one who thought himself a God. Nikolai Brandon. The architect of it all. It was so clear to him now.
Ivan just wanted to keep his family safe. And to protect his city. To enforce justice and to punish the evil he saw. By whatever means necessary.
He looked back at Ryker. "What do you have in mind?"
A grasp from behind blazed the light into screaming intensity before the softness of the touch washed the anxiety away. She might have assumed Jay was only preventing her from leaving, misinterpreting weary focus as abandonment in the cold way she turned to seek out Evelyn. But it wasn't that kind of touch either. His fingers smoothed the claw of her own, the sensation magnified before she realised the gentle ripples of power made everything stronger. Warmth brushed the palm she viced for distraction until her hand relaxed, surprised.
He noticed something he wasn't supposed to.
She hadn't invited him behind the blank canvas of her gaze, but he crept past her defences with the earnest curiosity of a lost wanderer. Incidental, but such an honest connection its realisation was almost shattering. Grief rushed a torrent through that small chink, seeking recognition in the scant seconds before her chest swelled a breath and she tamped it down to stillness.
She didn't explain, at least not now. Maybe she never would. The emotions ran too tangled for a single cause, buried so deep they were just another shade of her soul. And Jay hardly needed any burden of hers to add to his own shoulders right now. "When I look at the people here, I wish I'd never left Africa."
The quiet words cut a dry smirk, a dark sliver of truth amidst the sheer flippancy. She'd been born into this world, but the fit was ill. No one had ever asked what changed her mind so suddenly about returning, not that she would have been straight with an answer anyway. She'd made her own deals with her own devils.
She almost shrugged, on the verge of brushing the moment away, only to abandon the gesture and turn back instead, attention pooled to their link of fingers and the warm heat of how close he stood. When she'd woken in the hospital he'd been gripping her hand. Not a memory forgotten exactly, but smoothed away with an easier lie; one that defined their interactions by a simple transaction of duty, and erased any small details muddying the picture. So she had no answer for the comfort he offered or the way in which it blurred the truth she told herself with the truth she felt. It left her feeling more vulnerable than she was accustom to.
A cynic's instinct urged her away, defensive, but it was precisely why her gaze tugged defiantly up instead, unsure she wanted to read his expression, or allow him the chance to read hers. She searched for sincerity she was tentative of finding, not entirely certain what she really wished to see. Questions lined her own tired gaze now the masks slipped, an edge of demand curbed by their surroundings (he had a lot of explaining to do), but a soft hint of confusion as well. She squeezed his hand before she let the connection slip away. Necessity, not desire.
"Don't be alarmed if she already knows who you are, by the way. Come on."
Evelyn floated through the ball. Along her journey, she greeted businesswomen, a judge, and a lawyer. They held her attention only moments, though. She had one goal.
When she approached, he was engaged with three rows deep of people. They were smiling at his jokes and awwing over his displays of power. In the moments before she was recognized, she watched, fascinated. It was almost like he cast some sort of spell by presence alone...
((Ooc: my apologies for inquiring. Is Jensen’s role in healing Ascendancy public knowledge now?))