The First Age

He fiddled with his Wallet, set an image to dance on the air between them. Genuine interest kept Natalie's attention rapt as he explained the knotted pattern, though her curiosity did not diminish the scald of questions in its wake. At first glance, this research seemed far more complex than she would have guessed. He professed limited knowledge of the differences between men and women, but freely made the assumption she would not be able to see the threads weave together as he created the flame. She didn't dwell on it, though. At least, not at the moment.

Fire? She blinked pale eyes, and wondered if there was a meaning behind that. Rumours abounded after her family's home had burnt to the ground -- with her still in it. But that was ancient history, in the days when magic had been a fairy tale. Nothing in his manner suggested he intended to make a point with his choice, or that such links had even occurred to him. Still. It stirred the ashy taste of memories; the red wisp of the threads floating and catching against the papers in the office. The choke of smoke in her throat.

Her expression shuttered, blanking out even the mild curiosity of before. She was interested. But it was a polite interest.

"It's always happened through instinct. Until recently, I could not chose when it worked for me."
Her tone was even, but she meant it as a quiet warning. Her gaze moved from the vacant space where the flame had flickered up to his face. She was not adverse to taking the risk, so long as he realised that it was one. Control was something she fought for; it was not something she had won. "It doesn't look the way I would think to accomplish the same task. But I can try it this way, if you wish?"


He nodded, and she found herself in the position of needing to call in the light on command -- with another watching on. Her gaze drifted away from Marcus to the hologram, studying the twists and turns whilst she emptied out her other thoughts. Frustration simmered at her outer edges; the dark haze of other memories, strewn bodies and the searing heat of the hospital. Fire was not where she would have started her exploration. And yet, as she surrendered to the recklessness of it, the power flooded in.

With careful precision, she began to replicate Marcus's weave. Though it felt. Wrong.

Her eyes widened in the moment she felt it unravel.

The flame spun, widened. And exploded.

[[Marcus modded with permission]]

She seemed hesitant, perhaps not in tone so much as in body language. Her movements, even the way she studied the diagram, the way her head turned to the open space seemed to have a deliberateness about it.

For a moment, he couldn't understand why. But he listened to her words, tried to understand what she really was saying. Control. She's still learning control. He had to cast his mind back a few years just to remember what that felt like. Using the Force was as easy as breathing now- that is, if your lungs were trying to crush your heart with each contraction and it was only by force of will that you kept that from happening.

But he remembered. Reaching out to the Force and it laughing at you, so far away it might as well be the moon. Later, so close you could see it right in front of you, and yet no amount of stretching out could let you touch it. Seizing it and just being able to hold it, a tiny thread, so tenuous that any attempt to pull it to him snapped the connection. Feeling the Force overwhelm him, riding for dear life as it bucked and kicked and fought, barely holding on to control, the thought of forming actual threads to DO anything impossible. Forming threads, trying to actually do something and failing again and again.

It was a feat of mastery that had taken weeks or even months. He remembered in those days that he'd have to meditate and find innate calm before the Force allowed itself to be controlled by him. He had chafed under those bonds but had worked under them all the same.

Until that fateful day in the park, the crunch of ice melt under his feet, the heavy clouds still full of more snow a roof above, the sounds of children playing on the dilapidated park equipment, a single working swing, a battered and dinged up slide. Kids, stuck inside for months finally outside for just an afternoon, able to run off their energies while bundled up in scarves and jackets and hoodies and hats. Gloves occasionally, for some.

And Farian, standing there watching and Marcus remembering the foster home. And he refused to submit to the Force anymore. Never again. He would ask permission of no one, not even the Force to act. Pushing through the wall, grabbing the Force by the scruff and forcing it down, his foot on its neck until it submitted to his wrath.

It had been a good day, he recalled with a faint smile.

So long ago he never really thought of it. It was good to be reminded about where people were in their progress. His schools were going to have to take that into account. Come up with grading systems or levels, so that people could see the progress they made, could set goals.

For another time. He nodded at Natalie and let her work in silence, the effort clear on her face. He was surprised at her comment of how she might do things. What he had produced was the easiest way he knew. No wasted threads, no unnecessary string crossings. He'd done the math. The equations were in their simplest form. Was it because of her inexperience that she thought to do things in a more complicated way?

He held on to the Force and probed, watched. He didn't actually reach out to where she was staring. He didn't want to interfere and break anything. But he tried to sense....something. The only thing he felt was a tingle in the hairs of his arms. Nothing else. He didn't even know how far along she was.

He was about to speak when a flame flashed into being in fits and starts, its size changing my the moment. Come on. Stabilize, he thought, staying quiet. He didn't want to interrupt.

Suddenly the flame erupted. Or exploded rather. The flash of heat was strong and powerful and without thinking Marcus threw up a wall of air around the fire, while at the same time, drew the heat out and sent it to the fireplace stones in the room.

His eyes were wide and his face felt hot. With concern he said, "Are you hurt at all?"
She didn't appear to be. "Wow. Ok then. I didn't expect that with such a simple thread. I apologize."


He was curious as to what went wrong. But...his hands went up to his face. Thankfully his hair was cropped short. Still the smell of burnt hair was unmistakable. There were some singe marks on his suit. Maybe the tips of his hair in front. He wasn't sure if he had eyebrows anymore or eyelashes. The Ball was coming after all. Course, his dark skin made it less noticeable. But still.

He looked at her, studying her.


Edited by Marcus DuBois, Apr 16 2018, 02:52 PM.

Instinct brought familiar threads to her aid as she flinched back.

She had burned in her old home, but had no scars. And she had cradled Ekene at the epicentre of an explosion in the hospital, but suffered no wounds.

Natalie understood a little more of how she did it this time around, though the power slipped away quickly after that. Her heart hammered hard in her chest, the anxiety from the heat making her feel sick, though for all the world she presented as calm and detached a mask as always.

The flame had gone now, not of her doing.

"No."
At least, she felt no new pain to join her existing injuries. A grim half-smile flickered the corner of her lips. The last time she had meddled with the thread she now understood to be fire, the weave had snapped back so hard she'd smacked her head against the wall unconscious. So it could have been worse. She tucked her hair from her face, the only indication she had been moved at all by the accident. The acrid stench of burning turned her stomach though. Marcus looked singed, but at least not hurt.

"An apology isn't necessary. I understood there might be a risk -- we already discussed that there are differences between our powers."
He seemed genuinely concerned, but it grated anyway; too close to the pedestal she so often found herself gingerly placed on. It only ever fuelled her recklessness.

Her palm outstretched, no permission sought this time. It took more effort the second try, perhaps because of the way the power had just wrenched from her grip. She thought of the pattern that had lit up her father's office, divorced it from the desperate emotions that had driven her back then. Minimised the effect. nudged it to the shape she wanted. Confidant. Undeterred. Her lungs filled and emptied heavily before the flame danced above her hand. She tilted her head in consideration before extinguishing it, content at least to have proved to herself her own capability.

Then abruptly flipped the subject. "Do you train the other men Nikolai Brandon has assembled?"

She seemed unphased by the explosion. Not just a delicate vase, then, Malik thought sarcastically. Though, to be fair, he told Malik, from what he'd read of her experiences in Africa, she never had been. Underestimating a person's ability was stupid in the extreme. Especially for petty personal reasons.

Indeed, a smile smile seemed to play on her lips despite what had happened. Marcus found that intriguing. There seemed to be determination in her eyes.

And for some reason, those small insignificant facts shifted his perception of her 180 degrees.

He wasted no more time on apologies or making sure she hadn't been injured. They were completely unnecessary for her. Even if she had, her pride would not allow her to admit it.

So he wasn't surprised in the slightest as she concentrated again on the empty space where the flame had first appeared. He still held the Force at the ready, this times threads of flame and air ready to prevent any kind of explosion. But he didn't expect it, not this time.

She had said as much. 'Differences in their power.' 'Not how I would do it.'

The newly formed flame danced and flickered in the air harmlessly. He smiled at her and nodded, the social lubricants and encouragement used on the insecure left unsaid on his lips.

Her question seemed apropos of nothing and he spoke quickly. "We have begun creating a school for channelers here at the consulate. Unfortunately, I personally do not have the time to teach, though I have done so on a number of occasions in the past. Another channeler, Sanjay Ramanujan, is working with me in setting up the curriculum and will oversee the school- for men anyway. He was trained by General Vellas along with a number of others- the first channeler volunteers Ascendancy found. Once he learned enough to be safe to himself and others, he was promoted to other responsibilities and now works with me here at the Consulate."


He really didn't give it much further thought. The image of the flame dancing before him still played across his mind, an idea forming. Indeed, once it came to him, it was all he could do not to show his enthusiasm over the possibility. He did not like tipping his hand. Concrete data, though. He hungered for it, an ache he longed to fill.

It was a simple enough thing, really. There was little risk in it. And it could be useful. He took his tablet and typed quickly, granting limited access to the account she had on file and sending her the link. "I have given you access to this application. I would be very interested in seeing how you wove the flame just now. I can show you how to draw with it in 3-d space using the various threads. If you do so, perhaps we can discover the reasons behind the differences in our power. We need a more systematic way of teaching. A theory of channeling."


Perhaps that would be enough. She had wanted to do research. But just in case..."And....if you are interested, I'd be happy to offer you a position here related to teaching women. Or for our public outreach and education. Even as just a consultant."

He answered the question as though it was a distraction from the real task; a rote reply, perhaps -- certainly he did not seem to pay any heed as to why she might have asked in the first place. The name Ramanujan she filed away for later. A school was very different to the vision Brandon had described; she might have rolled her eyes at such a sanitary mask, but refrained. She'd been curious as to how Marcus might answer, but did not pursue the topic.

Though his demeanour did not much change, she could tell his thoughts were drawn more to the puzzle of the power. Natalie had no reason to oppose his suggestion, if she noted the eagerness with which he made his proposal. A transaction. He clearly presumed she required incentive. She'd been removed from these kinds of politics a long time.

It gave her pause, though. The rope of commitment.

Natalie was a Northbrook, bound to the CCD by blood. She was also a Grey. Though it was not familial bonds that silenced her. It was the perception of a cage; aligning herself to Brandon's administration before she was really sure she could believe in it.

"That's gracious. I will need time to consider it. But of your research, of course I will help how I can."

Perhaps he wasn't too surprised by her reticence, though her reasons were unclear, given she was the one who came here and commandeered a room. She kept a wall up, only showing the barest hints of emotion. He understood walls. Everything he showed was calculated, concealing his true emotions. All a mask, to elicit whatever response or impression he wanted.

She did not bother with a mask, just the wall. She did not care about the impression she gave. An interesting challenge, this one.

For another time, though. The puzzle at hand called to him. He pulled up the app in holo display. A cube presented itself, a tool bar icon running along the bottom. He pointed out the icons for the different threads of the Force- just colors really- red for fire, brown for earth, blue for water, grey for air and yellow for spirit. He selected fire and using his finger, traced a curve that spiraled slightly about itself in a corkscrew. Pulling his finger away completed the action,

He touched it again, selecting it, and now small handles appeared along the spiral at regular intervals. He pinched one and pulled it to elongate the curve at one place so that it stretched out horizontally. He did that again, explaining as he went that this was how he could get the pattern to match what he did with the Force.

He selected another thread, air, and did the same, intertwining it in opposite direction of the spiral. At one point he took the end and was able to loop it through the spiral, as one might do with a needle and thread.

An icon to the side opened a window displaying the tau alegebraic expressions this image represented. She wouldn't know what they were, but they would allow him to play with the terms and simplify if possible. As well as to compare. That was what he wanted. To see if the equations for her weave were somehow complementary to the one he had made.

"It might seem complicated, but all you are really doing is just sculpting with light what you create with the power. I can't see your threads myself, so this is the next best thing. Would you like to try it?"

He demonstrated the programme's use on the holo between them and Natalie watched, a quiet but dutiful student. She made no comment about its complexity, and if she was intrigued she chose not to show it. Marcus's offer had dulled her back to formality, at least until she decided where she fit in this new landscape.

In any case, she had little intention of indulging his curiosity now, while he watched on. In part because it set a frame for their relationship she was not yet sure it was in her interest to facilitate (that akin to master and student). But mostly because she would need to continue to explore the power more thoroughly before she might then translate it for his benefit.

"I promise I will give it due consideration. Was there anything else you wished of me?"

The irritation that came and went was constant, but he was able to dismiss that. Malik was the one with the problem, not him. Mostly. Her demeanor was cool, closed. He was often careful with people like that. People who hid behind walls. Sometimes it was merely protection. Other times....well, there could be dangers other times.

Of course others hid behind masks, even affable open ones. Him included. And there were definitely dangers there. Ascendancy didn't see it, after all, what his Consul was.

He nodded his head with a friendly smile, masking his disappointment. He'd wanted those equations. "I'd appreciate that, thank you. As for the rest, not really. More than anything else, I was curious about you, given your request. It's not something I've seen in many other channelers. They hunger to use the power, of course. Most do. But something more rigorous is usually not interesting."
He waved it off as no big deal as he stood. "Artists rather than scientists. But then again, I the world needs both."
He glanced at the piano momentarily before meeting her eye again.

He held out his hand to shake hers. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Natalie. Do let me know what you decide."