The First Age

Armande's mouth had quirked in amusement at Valeriya's actions. The patrons at the table they had passed had looked at her in surprise as she breached the invisible walls etiquette erected around their table, peering down at the food hungrily, studying at each morsel.

He wouldn't be surprised to see her reach out for one. In their explorations of the city, they had mainly eaten food purchased from vendors at stands and trucks. A restaurant was an entirely new experience.

Before she called down too much attention on them, he gently steered her away, though she still insisted on choosing where they sat. He'd nodded to the hostess with a friendly smile.

He smiled at her exuberant answer to his question, emerald eyes dancing above a beautiful wide smile, warm joy spreading out from his middle. It had been a long time since he'd felt this way. So very long. And strangely, a sense of....appreciation formed inside him. To the universe or to fate or whatever it was. He had been given a companion in his work, a partner in his great mission. This was not simply two people who found each other pleasant company or attractive. In his youth that been enough. Grigorio. Jova. Nor was it simply familial affection, as it was with Lissandra.

No. They were instruments in a war, brought together to save the world. Two forged in very different crucibles, now bonded together as weapons. The fact that he genuinely liked her, felt great affection- and attraction- for her almost seemed an added bonus. And oddly, it felt as if the years had fallen off him, a cloak he had worn for so long dropping to the ground. He felt young and vital, virile and potent with her. And so he took great joy in showing her the world, letting her see what they were fighting for.

And Valeriya, for her part, relished the experience. Her drink was potent and probably was far better tasting than the intoxicants the Khlysty had used in the radyeni. That had been for effect only, the sacred orgy. This was meant to be savored and enjoyed.

"I am glad." He sat back, sweeping his eyes across the room. "This is what we fight for. For our right to live and to be free. To enjoy this world as slaves of no one." He knew she knew, had made the connection. But it felt right to point it out. "The power of the gods is corrupting. No one is immune. Not one." A wistful memory. He pushed down the twinge. It had been too late for her. The hardest thing he had ever had to do. It had been for only a short while that he had known his daughter. Even so, he cherished the memory of her, of what she had been. Before the twisting. No one was immune. No one.

He let the music wash over him. Loud and bombastic, rolling frenetically, trumpets and trombones, casting out energy and freedom. While not what he preferred, he appreciated it for what it meant, what this place meant. In hindsight, this was exactly where they needed to be. This was a free humanity.

Valeriya reveled in the music., letting it into her until she rose and started to dance. He shouldn't have felt surprise. Armande laughed as her arms swayed and undulated, her body writhing to the beat. The musicians seemed to take her as encouragement and the tempo picked up, as if to goad her on. Armande stared at her, watching. He should get up and stop her. Others were looking now, smiling or clapping. She didn't stumble about as if drunk- which probably happened here quite a bit. The staff didn't seem inclined to interfere.

Their waiter stopped at his table and he ordered samples of various dishes for them to enjoy.

Looking back to her, he paused. Yes, he should stop her....but, instead he watched. Just....watched, hypnotized at the way her hair flipped around, the curve of her as she sinuously moved to the rhythm, the ecstasy on her face. After a while, the music itself seemed to fade away, only the distant insistent beat still audible to him. And he just stared at her.

The bubble popped, the music coming loud again, and he looked around. Others were looking too and he sighed. He was being a fool. Even though he was wearing the anti-surveillance clothing- anti-flash thermal defeating fabrics- and carrying the scrambler Theiss had provided, you never be too careful. He stood and went to her, gently taking her hand. "Come Valeriya. Our food is almost here."

Rowan lit the second joint with a quick spell; one tiny flame bursting into existence at the tip of the thing, she puffed the rolled herb into life. Her eyes dragged up to Asha, noting the tears she had scrubbed away. With a cocked eyebrow, Rowan thought to herself, What is wrong with her? She seems so touchy, uneasy, flinching at unseen… Oh, dear Goddess!


                “You’re an Empath, aren’t you, Asha? The cards didn’t lie… I knew there was something special about you. They said the same of Tobias,” Rowan didn’t even look in his direction, “and he proved them right as well. Sweet Erzulie, I should have picked up on it before… And yes. I would like that very much; as I’ve said, I wish to come into contact with other… ‘weirdos.’ Even if they do not come to me, I am sure in time our paths will cross eventually… But, yes, my dear, I would be eternally grateful if you passed word along for me. They are always welcome here, of course.”

                Taking another long drink of the wine and another puff of the joint, Rowan blew out a few smoke rings. Thoughts of visitors left her mind for the moment, now that she had puzzled out Asha’s secret; the dark haired woman seemed to be that much more interesting to Rowan now. She seemed uneasy at the prospect of others joining Rowan’s little box social, but this Asha couldn’t leave yet… Rowan suddenly felt the urge to befriend this woman.

                “I would very much like to know all about these Gods and Monsters, Asha… Not that I wish to confront them all myself, but I always did love a good story. I don’t suppose these Atharim have a grand library we can infiltrate? Or perhaps a database on some hidden server somewhere? I’m sure we’d all be better off if we could lay our hands on those records… Information is no one’s property! It should be shared!” Rowan spoke smoothly and meant every word of it. Oh, she was not going to rush into some secret hideout of some mysterious assassins; but there were other ways to acquire knowledge.

                Tobias finally spoke up (calling Rowan a bitch nonetheless,) Rowan looked at the man and pursed her lips, “Ready to rejoin us then, darling?”

                This man positively irked Rowan. She had dealt with others that did not like her, this was nothing new… But this… Tobias… He had a way of getting under Rowan’s skin without saying a god damn word. What did she ever do to him to make him revile her so? That’s what it was. He wore it all across his face and it burned at Rowan.

                Still.

                That was no reason to be a bitch. Rowan rolled her eyes at the thought.

                Taking on a polite tone, Rowan asked of him, “I do not discount your words… But… How can they be such a threat to those that touch magic? Aside from sneaking up on us… I am just having a hard time wrapping my mind around this whole thing. Assassins in the night, indeed! You both keep saying that they are dangerous, but what do they do to us? Do they have a way to nullify our magic? Are they martial arts experts? I just don’t get it…”

                Mik spoke up again, drawing Rowan’s attention back to what had just transpired with her cards. Rowan let her eyes linger on Mik’s firm bottom as he rose from the couch. Finley chiseled, at least from what she could see. Setting her glass back down and puffing at the joint once more, Rowan was about to open her mouth; but then one of the servers came bounding into the room without knocking.

                Rowan spun on the man, fire in her eyes. He gave a quick bow after seeing her reaction.

                “Pardon, Mistress, but I believe we have located the… unusual pair. There’s a woman and a man down there… and well… The woman doesn’t seem… right. She might be drugged out, but they’re the only two that acted out of the ordinary,” The young server stammered out.

                Rowan’s malice turned to joy. She replied in a sugary sweet voice, “Yes, thank you, Greg. You may take the rest of the night off as a reward.”

                Greg, the server, stammered out a thanks and zipped off.

                Turning back to the statuesque Mikhail, Rowan smiled at him in a most feline manner, “Mik, darling? Since you so generously volunteered… One of the servers downstairs can point them out to you.” She rose to her feet and gave the man a quick peck on the cheek and a pinch on the rump.

Mik smirked at her pinch. And her quicksilver mood. Yeah, firecracker all right. Personality anyway. He blew her a kiss and left the room. He was buzzed and high and a bit loopy. And the room had started to feel hot and stifling. So it was nice to get out of there for a little while.

The music from downstairs had suddenly grown louder when the door opened. All sounded the same to him. As in he couldn't tell if it was the same song from before or not. That always said something about the quality. He wandered down the stairs and started exploring.

Yeah, it was hot. He headed to the wrap around porch and just sat on the railing. It was nice out here, cool and the air crisp. He took a puff and then, after a moment, let the smoke drift out of his mouth, felt the slight heat of it curling around his lips.

He'd find Rowen's specials in a second. For now he was content to look out into the night, wondering what the Lady had planned for him. It was clear, though some clouds drifted across the sky. News said might be a storm coming.

After what may have been ten or fifteen minutes, he stood up. The joint was just a nub, now, and he'd burned his fingers. He didn't have a roach though he could have made one with air. Not like Rowen didn't have plenty more. He flicked the nub into the grass and headed back inside.

He wandered around, exploring the different rooms. Course this was stupid. He wasn't looking for someone with horns. The guy had said the girl may have looked drugged. Drugged and doing what? Drugged and sitting there eating didn't exactly stand out, you know?

That was the question. Maybe he'd have to find her friend- Gary or whatever. Or he could ask around, he supposed.

Xander wanted to growl at the woman but he tried to remain calm. She was grating. She didn't want to listen to anything anyone said. Meeting with these fucking Atharim - the snakes of death and killing and destruction. She was such an idiot. Inviting them to her own home for crying out loud - she was asking to fucking die.

He hadn't gone anywhere. And she was now calling him darling. She was so grating. What do they do? Xander sighed as he looked at the irritating woman across from him. "You mean what do they do aside from killing us?' Xander shook his head. "That seems more than enough reason to stay the fuck away from them. Does it really matter. They've tried to kill the Ascendancy - he claimed it himself. So how bold do they need to be? You see that relic of marvel standing in the Red Square. The power it must take to make such a momentum and they tried to kill the man. You think you stand a chance against an organization that's so brazen." Xander shook his head. "Invite the devil into your house and see how fair he plays. "

After the cool of the night, the inside felt far more stuffy. The air felt kinda thick and, gun to his head, Mik pretty much realized that he was sorta out of it. Rowan's shit was good. And potent. Prolly one of those Indian blends. At least it hadn't been fortified with anything.

Adding the drinks, plural, welllllll, he was pretty lit. Not like he would run into anything or slur his words. But he was definitely flying. Times like these was where he pretty much relaxed and didn't play any games except the ones he wanted to.

So yeah, he was looking for Rowan's pals and what not. But it wasn't like he was in a hurry.

He walked along the side of the porch and entered one of the doors at random, the music from the entrance, thankfully, fading. Orange punched him in the face. Good Lord, what was she thinking? Food smelled good though. Then through another. He saw the entrance to the ladies room, contemplated wandering in and checking it out, then moved on. Now this was kinda cool. A circular bar and a bunch of mirrors and lights surrounding it.

Still, he kept going...aaaaaaand found heaven. He checked the sign. The Gentleman's Parlor. The smell of cigars and wood and leather filled the air. Screens lined one wall showing games and news and music videos with tons of eye candy. Deep plush chairs called to him. The bar was stocked with the best stuff. Old timey video games plinked and flashed, though not enough to ruin the low lighting.

What the hell was Rowen thinking? This was where they shoulda met. Damn, but this was cool.

Oh yeah, he'd be back here, sinking in one of those chairs, lazy curling smoke drifting up from his cigar, the end wetted in his whiskey, just relaxin like a baller...

He laughed at himself. Oh yeah, def lit. Well, they were waiting. And Rowan was probably jawing their ears off. Tobias would be scowling, he bet, getting wound tighter, while Asha- wait. Through the fog he remembered. That's right. An empath. Now that was interesting. He needed to pick her brain.

Anyway, where was he? Hmm....hell if he knew, now. Oh well. He supposed he better get to it. He flagged one of the servers and told him Rowan had sent him down to find two more guests. Pretty vague but seemed like they knew her pretty well. Soon he was taken to a room that made him wanna claw his eyes out. So.Much.Red!!!

The music was louder here too.

A couple was pointed out. Mik smirked. Good god. So pathetic. Old man and a young girl. Dude had to be rich. Or powerful. Usually one, the other, or both. She was a hottie, that was for sure. Nah, he didn't forget about Rowan. Honestly, he liked to have both of them to dandle on his knee. Throw in Asha....an empath, don't forget.

He laughed at himself. Who knows, anyway. Not that he wouldn't try to make something like that happen. If the opportunity presented itself. Have to get rid of Old Man River, first. And that grump Tobias. And jokingly, he said a prayer to the Lady. Please Oh Please, Dearie. Help a brother out.


And then he sauntered over to the table and smirked, though not in a bad way. Well, he didn't think so. And, nooooo...He didn't leer at the girl. At least not really. Hard though. Up close she was all kinds of hot. "Evenin, folks. The, ah, Lady of the House noticed you and has invited you upstairs to her private, uh, ballroom."

Yeah, so...hmm. Old Man River might be old...but he didn't look frail or anything. Prolly was juicing to keep up with the girlie. And he was kinda staring at him real hard-like. No kinda. His eyes were a bright sharp blue.

Mik laughed, though he knew it would probably piss him off. Not like the guy was a threat anyway. "It's all good, my friends. She likes to talk to interesting people, is all. And she likes to show off her fortune telling skills too." He winked at the girl, whispering conspiratorially. "She's tryin to collect special people." And then, on a whim, he pulled out his lighter, flipped the bit and a flame appeared. The power flooded him and he started to make the flame dance about.

"Come on. Whaddya have to lose?"

Rowan’s smile brightened at Tobias, “Ah, Mon Dieu, you just said ‘us.’ So perhaps you do feel a kinship with the rest of us weirdos,” with a wink at the man, Rowan took another puff from her joint. She blew out a few smoke rings and considered Tobias for a moment. He wasn’t a bad looking man, but that attitude soured everything about him. Perhaps Rowan hadn’t done anything to him, perhaps he was just naturally a curmudgeon.

                “As I’ve said before, I’m listening; but you both just keep saying the same thing: they’re dangerous, stay away, they kill. Forgive me, but it just sounds like a boogeyman story. Asha here has been the only one to say anything of substance; you sound panicked, Tobias. Have you had a run in with these fiends?” Rowan took a genuinely concerned tone with the man. Perhaps she should drop the diva act; perhaps not. She’d be softer on these two, at the very least… Mik could take it, though.

                Pulling five slips of parchment from her bra, Rowan cast the scraps upon the table. She muttered a long, convoluted incantation under her breath; conjuring the spirits of Papa Legba, Erzulie, Chango, Baron La Croix, and Damballah Wedo.

                Above Papa Legba’s slip, a gout of flame spurred in the air, Erzulie’s spawned a spout of water, Chango yielded a blossom of quartz crystals, Baron La Croix conjured phantom winds, and Damballah Wedo caused the three in attendance to feel a very, very light vibration within themselves akin to their respective psychic powers; the latter being almost unnoticeable.

                “These are the five elements: fire, water, earth, air, and spirit; although you two cannot Channel, these are the threads that make-up reality. Whatever these Atharim are capable of… Well, we are greater. I may not be a Master of the craft like the Ascension, nor may I be a ‘master assassin’ like these Atharim, but perhaps it’s not about strength, Tobias. The Ascension is afraid of these men and women that cannot touch magic? Okay. I accept that. What that means to me is that the Atharim are so skilled they don’t need magic… That tells me a lot… That tells me that I just need to practice and to stay alive. You think it’s a bad idea to invite them in? Well, you associate with Asha who knows ‘friendly’ Atharim, do you trust her? I don’t know her, but in the time that I’ve spent with her, I trust that she is not going to bring killers into my house… If she does… well… we will handle that when it comes…” Rowan looked down at her wine, images of the innocent dead dancing through her mind at the sight of the deep red liquid.

                The stench of innards and sinew tingled Rowan’s nose…

                She shook her head, “I am sure the both of you assume that I am a silly little twit, but I know Death. I’ve seen it and caused it. It won’t happen again, not to the innocents. The Goddess gifted me for a reason; I want to protect those that are different, see that the lost find their way… Laugh and roll your eyes if you will, but I mean it. There’s too much suffering in the world… Why not enjoy life when we can? Now, come… Eat, loves…”

                Rowan topped off Asha and Tobias’ drinks and then proceeded to hand them both plates that were piled high with fried catfish, grits, biscuits, and so many other New Orleans’ specialties.

                Rowan finished her fifth glass of wine.

A touch on the palm snuffed the fires curling her limbs into dance. She looked sharply at Armande until realization swept fresher understanding. The music crept under her skin like parasites; leeches she had no desire to peel away. Yet Armande beckoned and while Valeriya’s instincts resisted, she followed the Great One without too much protest.

A few people clapped for her as they returned to the table. She glanced at Armande curiously, only to finally understand it was a gesture of praise. Her smile beamed back. Foods curled their noses next. Plates and bowls of more colors and textures than Vale even knew existed in the world. She would frantically dip her spoon from one dish to the next, gobbling mouthfuls in turns without pausing to finish one in particular.

At one point, she bit down on something greedily, and an explosion lit her mouth on fire. Eyes wide, water blossomed down her throat. Coughing, she spit the offending bite back out and guzzled the crimson drink.
“What was that??!!” She gasped finally.

Some time after that someone stood over their table. Eyes wide, she looked at Armande to see how he would react. She’d not interacted with many people of the Above. “Is she also from the land far away that this house is from?” It would be fascinating to meet someone so exotic, but Armande said the Above was full of dangers. Surely someone could not be so dangerous in a place like this. Nobody could be worse than the two of them together. 

She nodded emphatically that he agree. If he didn't...

Valeriya didn't want to leave the music, of course. Whatever she was doing, she did it, heedless of the consequences. Armande had to remind himself that she really was a child- though not necessarily in age. In experience rather. The child playing near a road, heedless of the danger. The inexperience camper, fatigued with hunger, falling upon an army of mushrooms shading under an oak tree, ignorant of the painful convulsions and coma that would follow, kidneys and liver enlarged and hemorrhaged.

They had some of freedom. Some. But calling attention to themselves- despite all the precautions he'd taken- was foolish.

Thankfully, her attention span was short, as her eyes fell on the feast spread out before them. And he couldn't help but smile as she fell to eating ravenously, sampling everything. After a lifetime of the flesh of oni, of mosses and vermin and insects, this had to be nearly overwhelming to the senses.

He laughed as he sipped his drink. "Slow down, my dear. I do not want you to choke." His warning was only partly in jest. She was inhaling her food. His eye fell upon the plate with sliced peppers and sausage and he was about to caution her when she took a bite- and nearly yelped as her eyes widened and she spat out the offending morsel even as she desperately reached for her drink. He held out one of the butter rolls. "Here. It will help far more than your drink." He was going to order some milk if the pain continued to bother her. Not necessarily a possibility with Valeriya of the thousand lashes.

As she medicated herself, he laughed sympathetically. "I am sorry. That is the spicy cajun gumbo. I had gotten that mostly for me. The hot flavors wake up your tongue." He continued to eat his food while at the same time enjoying her experience.

A shadow darkened their table and for a moment, he expected it to be a waiter. Instead he found a youth looking at them with a lopsided grin, leather jacket hanging jauntily off his shoulders. His eyes lingered on Valeriya far longer than was appropriate and his smile changed slightly, a slight question in his eyes. His temper, already simmering at this interruption, being to grow hotter as the man turned to insolently look him up and down, amusement and assumption plain on his face.

Armande was not a jealous man. Nor was he a man prone to outbursts of violence. It was always premeditated; calculated as to need, efficacy, and degree. But this man...this insolent, arrogant man...was a tumbleweed burr in his boots, digging into the small of his foot; the buzz of wasps around his head. Action prompted immediately- and without thought.

Armande reined himself in, taking a breath. He was about to tell him to leave them when the man spoke in Russian. His eyes narrowed at each word, at the easy way he seemed to sink into flirting with Valeriya.

But that was not what chilled him to his bones. That was not what flashed a furnace in his chest. It was not what filled his mind with such rage as to burn the world to the ground.

The man was a god. And there he was, casually playing with his power, as if it were a toy, as if it were nothing. A man playing with a black widow, with a serpent, with a scorpion, heedless of the danger to himself and everyone. The shadows of the room seemed to change the cast of the man's face and he saw the familiar demon flashing his eyes, taunting him. The same one he'd seen in Lissandra's eyes.

Oh yes, there it was in the flesh. He could see the arrogance of the power of these reborn gods, who thought nothing to intrude on people, to interject themselves, to seize control. Small. It started so small. Just a parlor trick. Nothing. But how long. How long until this demon god decided that joking and playing with the power wasn't enough. That he was entitled to more. And then more still. And that his power meant he could have it.

Brandon called himself Ascendancy. That was no accident. Beyond human.

Here was the embryonic arrogance of power, the greed and lust nurtured and husbanded, fed and cared for, until this demon child-man rose up to take his place at the feet of Apollyon, along with Vellas, DuBois, and so many others. Apollyon was setting up his kingdom. It was unthinkable that those in the United States or China or any other nation were not also doing the same thing.

The god-wars would come again.

But that was why they were here. Valeriya had to know. She had to see the evil that he represented.

She seemed concerned more for where the proprietress was from. He despaired. This world would lull her into a sleep, if he let it, lure her with its beauties, explain and excuse the evil and danger before them.

The man must have seen something in his face. He looked at Valeriya and winked at her. "Looked like I scared your old man, doll." He gave a condescending smile. "Come on, old man, don't worry. I won't hurt you." He came closer and Armande assumed the Chongg Ran to keep his emotions in check even as the man made the flame dance around him.

The blade on his hip itched to taste this man's blood, to see it spill hot and red from his slit throat. So easy. Power or not, the man would be dead before he knew what was happening to him. He put his napkin down very slowly, though his body language made it clear his movements were deliberate, his limbs loose and ready. He looked at Valeriya and gave her a slight nod. He hoped she understood.

He stood, towering over the man, blue eyes blazing. His voice was a quiet whisper, but every ounce of his will and anger and focus was on him. "You will escort us to your mistress, boy."

Special people. He knew what that meant. But he needed to see for himself. He wanted Valeriya to see. This was a war. Not a battle. A few dead gods was meaningless, in the long run. That was the only thing that held him back. The only thing.

The boy quailed, wilted like a flower for a moment, the fires winking out, looking up at him with eyes slightly wide before trying to regain face, briefly looking to Valeriya. Armande could not help the small twitch of his lips.

He held out his hand. "Come, my dear. Let us see this woman."

The fire that flickered in and out made her gasp. A sweet tongue beckoned, but Valeriya had the inkling that a knife waited to gut her the moment she accepted. The flickering fire set it, and she turned her sights toward Armande. Yet the fires that danced sparked excitement in her own heart. The thrill of danger, the prowl of a hunt knowing that just out of sight lingered something ominous.  She happily accepted Armande’s hand and joined the pair. A smile curled her lips.

As they came closer, the grandeur of their surroundings were secondary distractions. The Eye roamed for something just out of sight, like the huntress peering into the dark for its next prey. Something or someone waited that prickled her anxious to find out who.

((Lead on!))

Well.....so...here's the deal. Mik wasn't too happy that Old Man River had turned on him. Or rather, made him look like a little bitch. Dude was tall. And when he'd looked at him...well, let's just say that Mik felt a mite weak. Just a bit. Mik had held onto the power for a moment, his hand wreathed in flame. Lashing out, though, would only make him look bad. After a moment, he just let it all go. Yeah no. He wasn't just not too happy. He was pissed and embarrassed. Girlie was all evil smiles as she took the old guy's hand and they seemed to float past him, as if he were nothing. Dick!

Still, not like they knew where to go. He put on a fake grin and brushed in front of them. "Ok, your highnesses," he said mockingly. They wanted to act like royalty or something, fine! "Pardon, my lords. Didn't mean to offend."

Okay. Maybe he was making it worse for himself. Not like he was in full control of himself, being high and drunk and all.

He imagined he heard laughter and his mood darkened. The Bitch Queen was laughing at him. Oh Mik, you wanted to play, right? I brought you some people to play with. Don't get mad at me, little boy. And now he saw her wearing sharp green eyes, hair a tangled mass, a halo crowning her, teeth sharp. Oh yeah. That bitch would rip his skin off if he let her.

He walked in silence, tense between his shoulders. Still, he talked. "Rowan's an interesting chick. Though be ready. She talks A LOT. Like I'm not joking." Despite everything, he laughed. Whatever. In fact, humor washed over him. Oldilocks there had looked about ready to blow a blood vessel.

That would be funny, actually. Especially if his ticker gave out. He seized the power again and made a ball of air with a fire inside it, began tossing it from one hand to the other. He waggled an eyebrow at the guy, challenging him. "Feel like a catch?"

Hahahahahaha! The dude's eyebrows got all angry and stuff and he looked like he was trying to burn him with those blue eyes. Bring it on, old man. I love me some fire. He mock whispered to the girl. "I don't think he likes me very much. Prolly remind him of his grandkids."

Yeah, this was gonna be fun, trying to get a reaction out of him.

They arrived at the doors and Mik blew them open with the power. "Honey I'm ho-ome! And I have guests." He strolled over to Rowan and kissed her on the lips. Gesturing, he said "May I present some guy. And a super hot girl. Guy. Hot girl. This is Rowan, the Voodoo queen of Greater Moscow!" And he plopped back down in his seat, used air to snag his glass and took a long swig of his drink, while grinning and staring at the pair.