It didn't take clairvoyance to know Tony was screwed up. No doubt in the head, Claire thought sarcastically, but physically as well. She never would have guessed it when they met earlier. Although perhaps a guy that's out drinking at eight in the morning should raise a red flag or two. He was exactly the sort of man Claire's mother warned her about. As they approached the dilapidated entrance to his 'home', the rebellious need to dismiss her mother's advice wavered. Heaven knew Claire wasn't skiddish, but she was glad Tony was the one to pull the handle. She could get her hands dirty when necessary, but chivalry wasn't entirely useless.
She followed him indoors and a surprised gasp escaped her lips. The stylish room was far from what she expected. There was a leather couch positioned before a wall of tech screens. Marble lined the kitchen. Stainless steel gleamed an industrial design across the space.
"You're just all kinds of surprising,"
she smirked and dropped her bag on a chair almost as heavily as Tony's plopping down. Concern crossed her expression briefly. She didn't buy his tight smile, and turning in a slow, studious circle, hands on her hips, she didn't buy the facade of the run-down scoundrel he presented himself to be. He was far more than that, and he was good at keeping his identity hidden.
She glanced at the kitchen, but no desire to rifle through the cabinets lured. Tony looked in need of something to drink, but this was his house, and Claire ended up lounged in the tufts of a chair rather than fetching him alka-seltzer.
She studied him, brows furrowed. He hadn't really answered her question beyond a vague 'we're similar' - whatever that meant. Could he sense something from her such as what Claire knew from June and the girls? They'd felt like sisters to her, warm and drawn toward one another. Perhaps Tony's power was so strong that he could sense the same from Claire? Had she mistaken attraction for something else?
"It's nice to hear someone admit that this power isn't evil."
She sighed, eyes rolling. "My mother, the poor woman, never much liked what we did, but she didn't stop it either. She was always open-minded. Babika encouraged me, though. She used to tell me stories of the gypsies before the War"
(WWII that was), "when our family passed down stories of those who could read the spirits, listen to the wind, and imagine the future tapestry of the world...."
Her voice trailed off: a strange mix of time stretched back along the tree of their family until the roots delved so deep their tips peeked through the other side of the world and a touch of sadness that said she knew inevitable mortality all too intimately, and death did not keep a woman warm at night.
Warmth crept beneath her jacket and she soon shrugged it off, revealing bare shoulders and a pile of necklaces dangling above a strapless top.
She laid the jacket across her lap. "So how did you get started? My friend June found me. She said I had the gift, and well, I was open to it. By that point, I'd tried out every religion on the planet, I think. I like the idea of fate, but I don't like the idea of not being in control of it."
Claire's audible gasp gave him no small amount of satisfaction. It wasn't as if he was intentionally trying to unsettle her - far from it, he tried to set her mind at ease - but surprise belied unpredictability, and if he became predictable, he would be caught.
Her continued suspicion was likewise satisfying, although hollow. There was no point in hiding himself further - he had decided he could trust the woman enough to let down his guard. Marco would have called it foolish; he called it bold.
The smile on his lips faded as she sat down and related pieces of her own story. From the use of past tense, it sounded like her mother was dead. It was something that struck a chord within him, although he did not quite understand her meaning. He knew nothing of gypsies or foretelling. Was it a separate power as he suspected, or was it something that lay dormant for his own use?
So much yet to discover...
He gave her his full attention, the playfulness muted - although not discarded - with rapacity. He still struggled with a deep ache that throbbed incessantly, counterpoint to his heartbeat, but he managed to lean forward on his elbows as Claire removed her jacket. The necklaces drew his eyes. despite the presence of bare flesh - although he hardly ignored it.
Before he could disseminate the thoughts, she spoke again. This time Tony truly
was amused, however unfair on the woman it might be.
He was polite enough not to laugh at the serious question, but his voice held a hint of wry humour as he replied.
"How did I get started?"
he repeated, the question rolling off of his tongue as he paused in thought.
"I got sick,"
he said finally, with a small smile full of nostalgic irony.
"Just as people are now. This of course,"
he added,
"was before the 'Sickness' became common knowledge. I thought nothing of the random bouts of nausea or euphoria."
He waved a hand.
"The 'Sickness' is only the prelude, the body reacting to the introduction of the 'power'. That was the best explanation we could come up with, although it may be wrong."
He shook his head. So much to explain!
"I said I was dead. I'll tell you why. My family was one of the most prominent in Moscow. My grandfather distinguished himself and took advantage of the Ascendancy's rise to power. I was Antony Soloyov - one of the best and brightest of the CCD elite's youth."
He smiled fondly, although he had since come to revile what he would have become.
"I was 'lucky'. I survived the 'Sickness', although it came at the cost of my life. I burned down the house of one of the members of the Sphere."
That brought a pause. The memory was one of his most bitter - and he had a crate of lemons to choose from. That bastard had taken things too far. Nonetheless, he retained his smile, if only because he was too tired to muster any real anger.
"And so I died. It was impossible to explain. I knew nothing at the time, so I ran. They took my family, one by one. For testing, I have since learned, and to cover the incident up."
"I lived in the Undercity, hidden. I learned as much as I could by myself, but it was not much. Until I found others. There were 13 of us - both men and women - who had lost everything to this...Gift... So we learned. Everything we could."
A grimace crossed his face like a cloud crossing the sun.
"Not without it's price. I am the only one left alive."
Another pause. His memories were foggy of that time, but he found little happiness in the remnants that he could recall.
His smile returned, this time genuine.
"Can you believe I was an alcoholic until a month or so ago? After the last of us died - I can't even remember how long ago, 3 years? Maybe more. - I wanted to escape. However, it seems I couldn't escape. I found myself with another apprentice two years ago."
He laughed, although the movement shot pain through his chest.
"I was drunk!"
Laughter faded to a fond grin.
"But that bastard saved my life. I was lifted out of my drunken daze, and now I am back."
His eyes shone, just as they did when he was young and about to do something incredibly stupid.
"I can't teach you, only another woman can. There are differences, as I'm sure you have already noticed. However, I can tell you what I know. To do that, however, I need to know how much you know? Can you control the power at will? Do you know about the Five? How much did this June tell you?"
Edited by
Tony Soloyov, Nov 29 2013, 10:36 AM.
Claire, June, Deena, and Cameron swore to never discuss The Sickness one evening after Claire brought it up. A news story had prompted the conversation, but June, their leader, quickly squashed the topic with so much force that Claire's urge for information was effectively smothered. June was a friend, after all, as much as their circle leader. Claire hadn't brought it up again.
But here Tony was going on about his experience with the Sickness, even linking it to his powers. Claire only relaxed in her chair and settled in to hear the tale.
The story which followed slowly drew Claire's expression further and further surprised. Until her eyes were wide and her lips parted breathlessly. Of course his true name meant nothing to her, no more than any other billionaire family from Moscow, but it certainly explained a few things about Tony. Such as the way his honor mixed with the luxury around them. He would have grimaced to imagine the crickety, old, wallpaper peeling off the walls and cracks drawn on the walls from a settling foundation, type of place she grew up in. Claire was a kind of girl that swam through thrift stores for treasures while Tony was the kind of guy that bought the building.
The tale turned tragic, however. She gasped at the idea of a man so powerful he burnt an entire house - nevermind who it belonged to. She pictured the way that flame flickered above his palm, and she could imagine it swelling to engulf them both. These powers were dangerous. June definitely imparted that much. She waved off the alcoholism. Not because one month clean was insignificant, but because years drowning oneself in sorrow was nothing Claire judged. That kind of horror he'd known was certainly worth a decade of drinking.
"I lost my family too."
She pointed at her bag where within was the Memory. "But not because I burnt down a government big wig's house. In fact, I did nothing. I was locking up the shop while the girls set up in the back-
" she assumed he'd know what she meant, "-and I found them all shot through the head execution style. I went upstairs and found a man in my mom and I's apartment, but I was too late. He was surprised to see me, and then he said something strange."
(strange for a cold-blooded killer anyway). "He said he was told there were only 'three of us'."
Claire's mouth formed a hard, thin line, and the fury of the moment returned to the surface when she thought she'd buried it deep in the gorges of her soul, deeper than the conscious could reach, beyond the heat of hellish Tartaros itself. "I didn't give him a chance to explain."
She wasn't entirely sure what he meant about The Five. But her previous story should suffice to answer his question about controlling it at will. "Luckily, I had been prepared and practicing the few days leading up to then."
She glanced at the kitchen. There was no bucket of salt laid out. Nor around the rest of the apartment was there any hint of an alter table. "How do you craft your Circle?"
She fixed him with a look. Circles had to be purified, spaces swept of psychic debris before the magic could be contained by the caster. Perhaps he used a mental circle, and was powerful enough to form it with his mind? She'd only heard of such casters powerful enough to not physically draw a literal circle. What about the alter and candles? How did he do without them?
Claire slowly understood. Tony was the most powerful Wiccan she'd ever encountered or heard of. And she wanted a share of that power more than anything else. Death was in Moscow, after all. And to meet Death, she needed to be more than what she was right now if she were to survive - let alone manipulate him.
She rose and sauntered toward him until joining Tony on the couch. She stretched an arm along the ridge of the seat behind his neck and leaned in close. "You say only another woman can teach me?"
Warm eyes delved into his. "You must find a way. I am still constrained by chalk and salt where you use your mind. I don't know what The Five is, but if its the secret, please tell me all you know."
Tony was the key. She simply knew it. Only what sort of man was he? To willingly divulge the secrets to their great powers? Or did he need coaxing?
As Claire told her story, Tony regained some of his composure. The pain had died down, although much too slowly for his liking. A bad sign, but he had other concerns.
The death of her comrades did not surprise him. Michael had told much the same story.
His brows furrowed in thought. These hunters were certainly wide-spread. And more than dangerous, something he could attest to well enough. Yes, they were definitely a faction that needed investigating. He would have to question Michael more thoroughly about them as soon as he was able.
For now though, Claire was his primary concern, in more ways than one it seemed. A Circle? What was it those girls had taught her? Tony was well aware of the vast mysteries that surrounded the power, and would be the first to admit he knew only the basics, but Claire's tale was concerning. It seemed the poor girls had no chance against the hunter. They were lucky enough not to have killed themselves, it seemed. It was not judgement - it was not as if there was an obvious answer to the workings of the power - merely concern.
When Claire suddenly rose and made her way over to him, his concern turned dark. It wasn't her fault, really. She was merely trying to learn. Nonetheless, Tony felt pangs of anger and bitterness. This knowledge was not something he would sell. Too many lives were at stake.
He forced himself to adopt a soft smile. He would not take it out on her. "As fond as I am of you,"
he said in a soft voice, looking into her eyes, "I do not require any form of payment. This power has cost both of us our lives. If I was not willing to share anything I know, nothing could persuade me otherwise."
Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, Tony addressed her questions. "A 'Circle' is not necessary. I suspect that your friends knew no more than yourself - not that I blame them."
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to expel his fatigue. "You require a 'Circle' because you have developed a mental barrier which prevents you from accessing the power at will. From what I gather, this is because you associate it with a form of magic that requires such things. It is the mind's way of coping with a sudden foreign power. A rationalization, if that makes sense?"
He paused to let her absorb it, although he did not wait for an actual reply. "The "Five" are the basic attributes of the power. Everything that can be done is done by combining these elements. Fire, Air, Water, Earth and...something like Will or Lifeforce... It is hard to explain the fifth, but 'Spirit' is the best way to describe it. You will understand once you feel it."
"Each of these elements produce a distinct thread. These 'threads' or 'wires' - again, it is far easier to understand when you experience it yourself - are threaded together to form patterns. These patterns produce the effects you see - the magic, if you like."
He didn't dare attempt to demonstrate, even if she was a man. "Much of what you learn for yourself is instinct or luck, but it is extremely dangerous to experiment. If you make a mistake, or create a faulty pattern, anything can happen. You could kill yourself, someone else or -"
he grinned, "burn down a house."
"As I said, I can't teach you by demonstration. You will not be able to see or feel what I do, nor any other man. However, I can guide you from what I have been told. I can also help to break your mental barrier, so you can use the power at any time, without any Circles."
He hesitated a moment. "I will warn you...It may require methods which could prove painful. I leave the decision to you."
Tony's tension surprised Claire. Rarely did a man withdraw from her attention, but Claire was not discouraged. Her mind turned with ideas as to why. Why boast about his strength then reject her attention? She sang with desire, for power and for him. For things she didn't posess. A look mirrored Tony's darkness. Was he to deny her both his company and his secrets? The company, well fuck it. But the secrets. The secrets she would not leave without.
The details of his requirements ripped shock from her skin like a snug bandaid. Payment?! She chocked back laughter and sat backward, one leg tucked beneath her.
The next few minutes were filled with so much, Claire could hardly pick her way through the treasures. The Five was only the beginning. She had a barrier, apparently that constrained the ability to expand to full potential. Danger. Circles. And pain.
Her eyes narrowed, suspicious of what Tony suggested. She had the right to be. She was the novice and he the master. Despite his claim that he could not teach her further, a hot streak of rebellion burned deep.
"I know danger."
She crossed her arms, a coy smile threatening to break the seriousness of her gaze. "Give me your best shot, Antony."
It seemed he had misjudged Claire's intentions.
So, he wasn't as good at reading people as he had been. Disappointing; but it was not the fist time, and likely not the last. Perhaps he could remedy the error later, but for now the power dominated. There could be no room for capriciousness in the situation.
Claire's challenging gaze only served to drive the point home. Still...he was not about to ruin the mood completely. Besides, it would be better to avoid any unnecessary pain.
He decided to adopt a provocative gaze. In part to cover his error with a confusing juxtaposition, but mostly because he enjoyed the thrill. Claire was proving to be much more interesting than he had anticipated. "Pain is not the only way,"
he replied, letting the words linger for a moment. "Just the fastest. However, I prefer to avoid it."
It was true not because she was a woman, but by general principle; and he did not think Claire would respond to pain. She seemed too stubborn. That would mean if it came to it, he would have to resort to extreme measures.
"All we need to do is convince your brain that it does not need to rely on Circles to use the power. Of course, it isn't as easy as showing you. The barrier is rooted deep inside your subconscious. It will take something more than a simple trick to do it."
He gave her his own daring gaze. "You say you are no stranger to danger? How about a challenge? It is far too dangerous for me to attempt to use the power at the moment. Shall we attempt something much more impressive? Tell me...what do you fear the most?"
Claire barked a laugh. "Yeah. I prefer to avoid it too."
Any normal person would. Although for the speed to advance, she considered the trade. But Tony was against it. She didn't think it was because he was trying to be withholding, especially after the heat of his last gaze. Men were fucking confusing. Just out with it!
She took a breath and squashed the rising impatience. So close to power and authority, yet it still seemed out of reach. What was this new proposal? Pain etched a woman deep, but fear just pissed her off.
Her brow narrowed considerably.
"I am most afraid of losing everyone I love."
Her answer bit sharper than she intended. The grief was still hot, and for Claire, fueled her fury.
"But as that has already happened, I suppose there is nothing left."
She sank into the cool leather and drifted through an imagination she voice aloud. Her tone cast a far-seeing gaze, as one who could see beyond the foothills of time and know exact details of the horizon in the infinite distance. "Everyone fears death. But that is not the event to grip my heart cold. Wiser souls fear everlasting torment; recompense for the evils they inflict in this life. But death is not my master. I refuse to scrape and writhe at his beckoning. Death should be grateful I give him the time of day."
Her fingers had snaked together in her lap, as some kitten toying with imaginary string. But it was her lips that coiled refusal for his advances. She didn't fear death. She would control it, if she had her way.
Long lashes blinked the mood away, and whatever transfixed Claire faded. She was not sitting astride some glorious seat, she was nestled in the folds of a black leather couch. The view did not sprawl green valleys, it was filled with the industrial design of Tony's place.
She turned back to him, and she shared a haunted sort of truth, twisted dry from her subconscious. "I suppose I fear the loss of all control over my destiny. To be completely and utterly powerless, and at the mercy of a grand design that sweeps us all away."
Deep words for such a young woman, but not so much for one whose foresight brought her to Moscow in the first place.
Claire's foresight was impressive. Her words did not carry the tone of youth attempting to emulate wisdom and he did not dismiss them out of hand.
Her fury was also expected. Tony wished to lessen the pain as much as he could, but the process usually required some sacrifice, and he did not say the pain would be entirely physical.
Claire's anger was the least of his concerns though. Her answers revealed an understanding and acceptance of her circumstances that was beyond his capability. Without being able to show her - or even use the power at all - it was unlikely he would be able to break down the barrier of her mind.
Nonethless, he would do what he could. With an unsteady heave, Tony stood. "I don't know much about fate or destiny. Neither have been kind. However, I know something about control. These Circles you use are like chains binding the power. It is holding you back. The power - whatever it may be - is something you must ben
d to your will."
Tony raised a hand as his voice faltered and trailed off, his brow furrowing. The pain had subsided already, surely the episode was over? Then why...?
The world lurched around him and spun like a top. Numbness spread throughout his body and warmth crept into his muscles like whisky straight from the bottle.
An odd thing to think...It was not quite right...
His mind drifted and his thoughts broke off and faded. His eyes grew heavy, the room conspicuously silent. His body willed him to rest, to succumb to the lure of drowsiness that pervaded his mind.
A part of him realised something was not right, that he should not give in, but it was fleeting and soon he closed his eyes to meet the sweet embrace of darkness.
The idea of bending their power to her will was slightly terrifying. Their circles taught calm and submission. In fact, there were a dozen times when Claire had been too pissed off about one thing or another to so much as flutter a candleflame. Tony's suggestion made her skin crawl, but he was the expert, and she the student. She'd do what he--
Tony stumbled, and Claire gasped. "TONY!"
She ran to his side, but he was a much thicker human than she could handle, and though she threw herself in front of him, her knees buckled he collapsed under his own weight.
She was panting, and every single hair stood on end, but she was quick to kneel and roll - aka, shove - him to his back. One arm flopped limp over his chest. His hair was askew. His clothes crumpled.
"Tony."
She shook him, but he was clearly unconscious. She was hardly prepared for something like this, but Claire had seen television. So she quickly brushed the hair from his face and put an ear to his mouth. Soon, he was breathing on his own, chest rising and falling slowly, if shallowly, asleep.
She sat back on her heels and stared at him. He was way too large to move somewhere more comfortable. There was nothing helpful in her bag, except perhaps a phone, but given his efforts to hide, she doubted he'd appreciate an ambulance. Besides, maybe he just needed to sleep. She knew what it was like to be so exhausted the body just gave out. I shouldn't have come here. She frowned.
Soon enough she found a pillow to wedge under his head, but she had to steal through the rest of his apartment in order to find bedding. She dragged a blanket in, an incredibly soft one, and draped it across his body, and tucked it in around him. Then she helped herself to a rummage through the refrigerator. She might as well get comfortable.
Tony's sleep was dreamless, as it was so often in these episodes. Dreamless, painless, numb.
When he awoke, it was as if he had blinked and the world changed. Had it not been for the memory of exhaustion and the slow fading of consciousness - along with years of experiencing the phenomena - he would scarcely believe he had lost five hours of his life.
He did not open his eyes immediately, allowing the other senses to recover. He smiled at the pillow beneath his head. He had endured much worse sleeping conditions, living among the sewer rats and the more virulent pests of humanity, but it was a nice gesture.
He opened his mind and seized the power, which came easily to him now that the episode was over and finally opened his eyes. The burst of full colour and clarity did not burn as it would if he had a hangover, it was a welcome, familiar sensation that calmed his mind, so distant from pain and uncertainty.
At last he mustered the desire to first sit, stretching his arms and legs, then stand. To his surprise, Claire had not run, and had indeed made herself at home - earning another small smile.
Before she could ask, Tony explained. "No need to worry, I'm quite alright."
That said with a teasing grin. Perhaps she was not quite the hardened rebellious image she portrayed. He had heard her anxious calling before he slipped into unconsciousness. Then he remembered the cool, confident tone with which she spoke of destiny, which sobered his mirth.
Strange indeed, there was more to Claire than met the eye, he suspected. Just as it was with Michael, as if they were fighting with something deep in their minds, ingrained but aloof.
A thought for another time.
At the moment, Tony needed food. He spoke as he moved into the kitchen and begun preparing an old Russian broth his grandparents had taught him. "An old scar,"
he continued. "A constant reminder of the dangers of experimenting with this power we hold. A...comrade... tried to heal me, but it backfired. Perhaps it may kill me someday - I don't know what it did exactly - but it is something that happens from time to time."
He did not want to sound as if he were warning her, but inevitably he slipped into the form of a mentor, the only role he had played in years; apart from a drunkard. "I feel much better now. Perhaps I can show you a thing or two, if you still want my help?
" To emphasise the point he wove Fire and Air, brining the broth to boiling point without having turned the stove on.