The First Age

It was like electricity shot through Rowan's slender fingers and burned torrents up her own. The Eyes of Below and Above were brought together; a sister of darkness coupled to a sister of light. Rowan and Valeriya were, in that rare and pure moment, a single Eye. What Rowan saw, Valeriya also marveled. The twin points, the blood, the light and colors, and the flames were all within their grasp. She knew that she shared the vision with this newfound sister, and even as the Eye closed and the world fell to normal around them, Valeriya stared fiercely at Rowan. Questions burned in her mind about the meaning of it all, the vision and the encounter. Had the other woman seen with their shared Eye the same thing? And for Valeriya, the Eye of the Khylsty, was Rowan a rival or sister?

She didn't know.  

Vale released the woman's hands even as her teeth clenched. Rowan's plea rang like a drum in her ears. A powerful ally Rowan might be if she was brought into the folds of the Khlysty, but a rival she might also become. What of Regus? The power that Rowan wielded was beyond Valeriya's own.

She was torn.

She looked to Regus, then to the others watching nearby. For the first time in her life, she was uncertain, doubtful and worried. A lick of the lips betrayed her, chest heaving with shallow breaths. A decision had to be made, and the Eye of the Khylsty had to make it.

"You will awaken to the things of this world to which you are blind, Rowan. I will help you." Her smile was uneasy, "Or you will die. Come with me..."

She held out a hand by which to lead her to the light.

Armande dismissed the boy as irrelevant. Certainly not someone to deign to give a response to. No. This, here and now, was the focal point, the center of it all. Valeriya and this....woman. Rowan.

And he felt uncertainty creeping closer, the slow movement of shadows across a courtyard as the sun falls.

The Chongg Ran gave his features glacial stillness. But inside, plans chased schemes that pursued purpose. He had been brought to Valeriya- and to a lesser extent, to the Khylsty- for a reason. The more that transpired, the more clear that became.

And yet this creature stood before her, one of the gods, soon to awaken to her naked ambition. Deadly potential before them, singing her siren's song to Valeriya. He very much longed to flip out his telescoping blade and take her head. He might be fast enough, as lulled as they all were. Except for the boy. He seemed very keyed up. Armande had no doubt those flames he played with would consume him and Valeriya in seconds the moment her head hit the floor.

It was so much easier when they were young. Cleaner.

Valeriya simply did not know. Plans behind plans. The woman could fail the ceremony. It was possible. Or balk at the requirements. Valeriya's flayed back. Illarion's burned face. Torn genitalia. Ripped out tongues.

This place betrayed her ease and comfort. The thought brought a sliver of peace. She'd not easily be the type to make such sacrifices. And Valeriya would kill her, budding sisterhood or no. A small smile formed, one of pride. Oh, she would.

But....if, somehow, she passed, things would become more complicated. She would have been inducted into the Khylsty, with all that implied. His hands, even as Rasputin reborn, would be tied.

Valeriya was the key, her naivete and inexperience the problem.

He spoke. "I will contact those sheltering our people. We can meet at the safe house." Whether he participated was another matter. He had things to prepare.

[[Sorry it took a while. Had trouble finding him. If'n yalls wanna end the thread here and begin at the safehouse, thats fine with me.]]

Vale released Rowan’s hands and she fell back into the couch, her breast heaving, breath catching as she recovered from the vision. She had never experienced something so intense. The vision was both gruesome and beautiful. Rowan did not know what to make of it.

                Those Twin Flames…

                According to New Age lore, Twin Flames were the equivalent to soul mates. There was no question as to who the black and white flames were in Rowan’s vision; judging by Vale’s facial expression, she had shared in the vision. Rowan locked eyes with the woman and felt goosebumps cover every inch of her being. Vale asked her to come or die, but Rowan could only think of the vision.

                “An ox, a lamb, a raven, and a badger… A cauldron and a crown… Vale… What does it mean?”

                She tentatively reached out for Vale’s hand, completely ignorant of Mikhail and the rest of the room. Was this destiny? Was this what the Voodoo Queen of Greater Moscow was looking for?

                Rowan had searched and looked for years. She had scoured the plains of North America, let her message be heard amongst the crowds of Moscow, and this is what it had lead her to. Of course this was right. Any urge to seek our her brother fled her mind. Rowan stood from the couch, on unsteady legs, and worked her way over to the intercom.

                “Gareth?”

                “Yes, Madame?”

                “I’m leaving.”

                “I detect a note of finality in your voice…”

                “Very astute, Gareth.”

                “So, what of us, Madame?”

                “If you do not hear from me within the next week, seek out my brother, Aiden Finnegan. He shall take care of the staff better than I could have. The deed to the property will fall to him. He has avoided me for months now, but I suspect if you contact him, notifying the man that I have disappeared, he shall embrace the Café and show himself…”

                “Is this goodbye, Madame?”

                “For the moment. I shall be back, Gareth, but I know not when. Take care, mon Dieu.”

                “It has been a pleasure working for you, Madame.”

                “And it has been my pleasure to watch you grow, Gareth. Take care of yourself.”

                “I shall, and you do the same, Madame.”

                The intercom went silent. Rowan spun on her heal and looked to Vale. The blonde Voodoo priestess rushed back up to the raven-haired woman and grasped her hand, looking to the older man as he spoke.

                “Where are we going?”



((The scene can end whenever ya'll like.))

Continued at Sisters of the Moon