The streets pulsed with activity as he walked along. He appeared as a local. That it was a disguise to his enemies amused him darkly. Istanbul was familiar, but without a nostalgic sepia. The memories were populated with a child's concerns, and not a thought of blood. His parents still lived in the house. And he felt nervous for being here. 

Along the high rises, a cat kept its paces with him. When he had left the taxi, he had given it a piece of chicken. The cats of Istanbul were forever, and everywhere. They were hunters, like him. But they would still take a chicken wing. Pride was useless to a wordless one, though he prowled with a lions gaze. He hadn't eaten it yet. Ari began to notice that it wasn't really following him. Their intention only led them in the same direction. 

The people about him crowded a mind trained for solitude. It might have been more uncomfortable if it wasn't home. But without fatigues the clothing settled strangely on him. And the weight of his gear was gone. That wasn't very welcoming. I am just another son visiting his parents. The smells were overwhelming, it was hard to pick out who was who. Here a bit of fear, but they were only late for work. There a bit of love, they were only hopeful for a first date. And the acrid background of discontent, and residue of more drastic smells. Cities were like that now, as if the CCD had destroyed something inside him, and thrown him back to before even the most rudimentary tongue had developed. A beast looked upon a spaceship in bewilderment.

As he approached the courtyard, seagulls cawed over the ancient walls. A new Rome had found owning the hellesponte a convenient tradition. He wondered if he could ever lose the taste of their prey in his jaws. The Wordless ones mocked him in the dream for letting the state choose his hunt, and seeking no pack. The black cat did not waver from their shared path, entirely coincidentally.

 Above the walls, a warships communication tower revolved, a CCD banner flapping furiously in the wind. A bloody supply line, right from Moscow, bisecting the Black Sea. He lingered on it for a moment, like the cat, but drove on through the streets.

His house was as he remembered it. Anxiousness for their meeting wasn't just because of the departure he had made from his old self, or the too few letters once he became lost in the hunt. He wondered if the Vegas searched for him, or some other CCD power. Wouldn't they come here? The most predictable place to come?

He circled three times, but the people only appeared unsuspiciously. And the authorities had no eyes for him, attached more to the city than any particular dark, secret rooms. It was a risk he wouldn't have taken under normal circumstances. Was it cowardice, to merely place a letter in their mailbox?

In a dark alley, he watched the mailbox. It was the point he would get caught, if at all., The black cat pranced without a care past him, the piece of chicken bobbing heavily in his jaws. His nostrils sniffed as many others joined his feline scent, and he looked up to find a small gang of glowing golden orbs above him. They mewed and pattered down behind a dumpster, and feasted on the chicken together.

Ari smiled at their smacking lips, thinking that it was a worthy hunt after all, and that he should find some friends like that. Others added to the feline pot, but none so richly as the black one. None of them ate before they saw their pack. He took out his letter one last time, and read it through.

Mama and Papa,

I am sorry I haven't talked with you. It is hard to begin any other way with this letter. You deserve better from your son. The army has been like Papa said it would be; taking pieces of me and offering a poor replacement part. I don't want you to worry, but I won't lie. I am in trouble. But it's ok; I can take care of myself. I have left the army, because of Papas thing. But also because of something else. It's no use to tell you everything, but something is changing me, from the inside. 

I'm not sure if it is for the good, but I think it might be. I love you. I miss you. I promise I will talk more, but it will be hard for awhile. Im hoping to join something for the right reasons, this time. You couldn't be proud of what I have done, with resentment in my heart. This time you will see my work, and you will say, 'He is mine.' Forgive me for not listening. I will contact you soon. Look for the untraceable number.

Love,
Ari

The old letter he folded, streaked as it was with rare tears. To unbox his childhood felt like tearing out stitches before they were ready. Now that he had read it, he longed to risk the Vegas wrath, and simply knock on the door. He bribed a mischievous young man to drop it in the mailbox, and turned from the scene.

He found a dilapidated old bed and breakfast, the kind middle class tourists like, but thought better of it when he looked at his wallet. Instead, in the darkness, he deftly climbed hand over fist a drain-pipe, and swung over the ledge of a flat roof. Right here, he would sleep in the warm summer night. Looking up, the stars were grotesquely faded in the light pollution of the city, but the skyline was lovely. He unrolled his sleeping back, and laid back, with a brick for a pillow. It was comfortable enough, and free. Sleep came quickly.

The sensation in the dream was intense, for all his rainy sentry duty was boring in every other respect. Five of the pack, bounding athletically over the crest of a hill. A gazzele, trailing a pungent crimson spatter, fell before them. And then another, a hungry, lonely dog, with nothing to eat.

His camouflaged face regarded the thought, and spoke feebly in its human tongue in response. "Yes. I want it. Show me. Show me the pack."

A black wolf emerged, looking fierce and wise. "You. Do you come at night, because it is easy for you?" Amused, he sent an image of Ari himself, stalking amidst the stars in some forgotten jungle. "I know. Are you one of my pack?" In response, he simply ran. Without saying, it was implied; he chased after Night Hunter, and they played in this way. But just as present was the implication that they were going somewhere.

Hi. Just found this wonderful site. It will be good to meet many of you. Everyone I've talked to has been great.

But beyond that, I'm wondering if any of you remember me from those old days. I go by Thar here, just like I did then, and I used to hang out in the chatroom all the time. Hope you are doing fine, it would be fun to reconnect after all this time.

Forum Account: Thar

First Name: Aristomenes 'Ari'

Last Name: Leuktra

Age:
35

Origin:
A second generation immigrant from Istanbul, after his parents fled the earthquakes that annihilated Greece.

Occupation:
AWOL Vega

Psychological Description:
Looking for a purpose, he joined the armed forces as a young man. Disillusioned with many aspects of society, he no longer believes the armed forces can provide purpose for him. He searches for a worthy hunt, and struggles to maintain a synthesis of wolf and man like any other wolfkin.

Physical Description:
Tall and well built, with olive complexion, he exhibits the phenotype of a Mediterranean amalgamation. The wolves took his dark eyes away, but could not add to an already astute sharpness.

Powers:
Wolfkin

Background:

Ari entered the carriage like he always did; on alert. One could never be too careful these days. And the Vegas had no idea where he had gone. Awol and monstrous was no way to go through life, he thought with futility. But there wasn't much choice in that.

He gazed quickly at each of his fellow travelers. Threadbare cloaks, dented luggage, and downcast eyes characterized the group desperately. The clop of horses hooves, the rattle of a wooden axle, was like a vision from an ancient time; something to plaster on museum walls and bourgoisie mansions. But it was real, out here on the disastrous indonesian periphery. The earth had cracked and ruptured angrily again; and targeted no one responsible for anything particularly bad. Let the mustachioed madman proclaim the death of God, thought Ari. The poor fool. Still, he felt he played in his godless courtyard, without the commander screaming in his ear.

The patrons looked at him oddly, and he didn't blame them very much. He wondered what they might think of him, had he cracked a feral snarl, and removed his dark contact lenses. Would they fear him more than Poseidon, for at least he reclined at ease on Olympus, far away from them? Instead he nodded gently, his rifle clattering against a knife, or a flashlight, or some other piece of gear the Vagas ladened themselves with. In the dream, with the hungry wolf, he had been naked, and felt better. They stood over the corpse of the old world, and there was no brooding literacy with blood in its throat; just those of the pack. The gods would be too late to save it.

They would come after him, perhaps; for being a good soldier, if not for knowing too much. And whether he referred to the gods or the CCD he wasn't sure.

*Too many words are as bad as too little. Do they think I would have known to leave without them? They would kill Thucydides for a bit of thigh meat.* A child shrank from him, and he wondered if his smile was disarming at all. As alien as it was the scene before him was closer to civilization than the Vegas. The dark pit that had been ruminating sharpened in his heart.

They rode in silence, and their fear lessened slightly over time. He muttered the foreign greetings shyly, and with poor pronunciation. He lost a chocolate bar to a shining set of eyes belonging to the small little girl. They clattered and swayed amidst the rough unpaved path, between the worlds. Why had the dream called him here? *I have to find another code. Or at least...*

Ahead, a checkpoint filled with people almost as ragged as these sat with armaments upon a cliff side. *A shakedown...* Stories like this had populated his parents tales, back home in Istanbul. Their journey from Grecian devastation would not be unfamiliar to these destitute souls. Wordlessly he slipped from the back of the carriage. The girl watched him go with big black eyes, and a messy chocolate ring around her lips.

She watched him disappear into the brush. Her mother engaged the leader, haggling uselessly. Men with guns began to patrol that sad baggage train, and outcries amounted to nothing as valuables were taken, and heirlooms made low for the pawn shop. But then a stone sailed from the dense foliage, and struck the bandit captain square on the forehead. Comically, his frustrated scream rang out. All of his underlings paused in their theivery. Tension reigned, and he motioned the men forward frantically, to look for the assailant.

Like the anger of Poseidon, thunderheads released a deluge to compound the confusion. It was miserable, but it was cover. The mother, wasting no time, urged the column forward with haste as they stumbled through the woods. When the man returned, covered in mud, he displayed a wild smile, and stuck his head outside the flap of the carriage. Like some kind of dog, he wiped his shorn hair of mud, and shook his head. They laughed together, in the same language. *It's not so bad. I'll find something to do, this way or that. Perhaps tonight, the wordless ones will have more for me.*

There, running through the muck, he found something like solid ground. And without the comforting certainty of orders, the hairs on his neck were finally able to stand down.

Emily was glad she had this lunch with Natalie scheduled before the situation with Rachel had begun otherwise it might not have been scheduled at all.  In truth she had considered rescheduling.  It wasn't that she didn't want to see Natalie; she absolutely wanted to see her friend, but Rachel's condition had put Emily into a place where she thought she had more responsibilities.  She did, but she also had a family to help.  One mention to Jared of her thoughts of rescheduling and he had encouraged her not to.  He insisted that she needed to get out of the house and breathe a little bit.  Rachel's struggles aside, it had been a busy time - in both good and bad ways.

So Emily had kept her reservation for two at the Estrella Restaurant.  Emily had joined the Pestovo Country Club shortly after her move to Moscow.  She did enjoy golf herself.  The restaurant had been chosen because it was nicer, but it wasn't as opulent as Radiance would have been. Besides, Radiance was used more to impress clients.  Eating there felt like business to Emily.  Here, it felt more like a place she could be with a friend, which was, of course, the point. 

Emily as always had arrived a little early, but had sent Natalie a text letting her know to give her name to the host then she would be brought to Emily's table.  The two had a lot to talk about. Emily knew that Natalie had shown up at the reception, but had not been able to come in.  Emily bore no grudge about that.  Jay had needed help and Natalie had done what Emily would have done as well.  But she wondered about Jay and hoped he was okay.  She knew Jared did too.  Then there was Rachel.  Natalie didn't know her sister, but she knew Emily's love of family.  But beyond that - there were the good things.  Emily was more interested in talking about the good things.  That is what she now needed.  She ordered a water and waited for her friend to arrive.

Marta sat at a table in the lounge. Her school work was done, but she still had some time before she had to take over watching Lily, so she turned to her task for Sage. She hadn’t told anyone about their relationship. It wasn’t shame or anything, it just hadn’t come up. When Elyse had asked what Marta about what she wanted for Christmas and she indicated that she wanted computer parts (she had given her a couple of the less expensive parts in the list Sage had provided). Marta thought Elyse had her suspicions, but let her be. She didn’t want to tell anyone about Oracle yet. The adults would probably try to get her to stop. 

She opened the file full of nonsense. She somehow had to make sense of this. Her computer class had told her that this was called a “checksum” and Marta knew that the key to the encryption was within. Her studies had given her enough information to figure out how to manually find what she was looking for. She made a copy of the file and used the copy to make her modifications. She wanted to keep the original in case she screwed up.

Manual decryption was inefficient. Marta knew that there had to be an easier way to do it. She had spent two days on this and had gotten virtually nowhere. Something in her coding class was key. She knew that. Despite her frustration, she didn’t ask Sage for help. His teaching method was effective. The fact that she knew what to look for in the checksum was proof enough for that. She was not only learning, but was remembering it. Still she had to wonder if he ever checked on her progress and was laughing at her feeble attempts to figure out his puzzles.

Rachel wasn’t doing well. It was shortly after they left Nox’s place that the symptoms began. Rachel’s hand began to shake, and she was clearly irritated. She spoke little, but when she did it was the name Lucio. 

It had taken Jared’s help to get her in and in her room and eventually they had got the ear bud in. They played the song on her wallet. Nox had given it to her. It was a song sung by the siren Ashton and it would calm Rachel’s emotions. Emily had been warned about using it too much, but now they needed it. They needed to go over what the plan was for their sister. Mara was openly crying as they sat outside of room and told the staff what had happened and what they had to do. It was going to be hard, but they all loved her and would all do what they could. The biggest was to show her love. Other than that, they’d have to work to get her brain to start regulating her emotions again. In time she would be fine, but it would be a hard road to get there. Check ins were going to be mandatory.

When they were all briefed l, Emily went back in to the room. She had noticed Mara ran to her own room and shut the door. The youngest sister was very upset by what she saw. Jared had followed and knocked on her door. He could handle it. 

Rachel was laying down, her calm strange compared to the withdrawals she had before. ”Rachel, can you hear me?”

When Rachel indicated she could, Emily asked if her plan was okay. They knew Rachel might run away because she needed to find her dead attacker. One of the things Nox mentioned was a nano bot to track her. It would allow them to find her even if her wallet was left behind. Rachel was an adult though and she decided to ask - maybe against her better judgement. Rachel agreed to the choice. 

It hurt for Emily to send the text to Nox saying that they wanted to do that. She only hoped that even if Rachel had it, she wouldn’t need it. Nox would tell her what to do from there

So in her most recent character arc, Rachel got involved with a sentient, and I started treating it as she became addicted to their touch. Nox informed me in chat that this was a first on site and that I was setting precedent here, so I decided to put my thought processes here so you guys could examine them. 

My idea was that the sentient touch is in essence a drug. Generally speaking if used sparingly and wisely, it can manipulate emotions in a short term manner, but applied consistently it can lead to an addiction as the body “loses” its ability to regulate emotions. Essentially the mind becomes so reliant on the external push of emotions that it quits doing so itself. They are not emotionless, but they kind of get reset to whatever emotions were usually pushed or just significant mood swings. It’s not a lack of emotions but an inability to regulate. 

There are of course varying degrees and certain people will have higher tolerances to the effects. For example, people who are more vulnerable (depressed, anxious, mental disorders) will be more susceptible. The quantity of the pushing and how hard they push also plays a factor.  Those who are more stable will take significantly more work. People like Nox may even develop enough of a tolerance that it has little to no effect. They may be immune. 

Like all drugs, withdrawal symptoms will occur if they don’t get their fix in time. Shaking, irritability, insomnia would be common. Eventually they may seek their attacker for their fix (any sentient will do, but psychologically - they will search for the one who manipulated them) Treatment is the same as drug rehab. Sleep will help, and so will distractions, but they are temporary to delaying withdrawal. Over time, the body will relearn how to regulate, but it can be sped up through therapy. Other sentients can “wean” them off of their addiction to speed up the process as well. 

Anyways - that was just what I was thinking going through this :-D I’m up for discussion on it though.

Amongst the skyscrapers, of Moscow lay his brother/father whom he found out most recently that his little brother was in town. Though Hayden was here on Atharim business, he intended to stay for his own reasons. And that meant playing nice with Ethan.

Hayden knew that Ethan was stay in the Moscow house, but he didn't want to go there and let everyone else know he was in town. His father knew. He knew everything. Well maybe not everything, maybe not the reason he stayed in Moscow -- it was more than that's where Nox landed as his mark. And if the other night wasn't an indicator to things, well... he was pretty sure everyone in the world figured out things Hayden didn't want to admit to.  There was more ot it than a simple relationship he liked.

Instead Hayden asked to meet his brother at Sebastian House, not their home, not Ethan's place of work, but the actual bar that sold only the highest quality liquor. No beer on tap, only hard liquor and typically only Sebastian House labels or their subsidiaries.  Or those that paid the price to make it into their well known establishments around the world.  The one in Moscow happened to be on the ground floor where Ethan stayed, and it wasn't early morning nor too late. But it was a drink in the middle of the day.

Hayden't didn't dress up to meet his brother in the high end bar mostly to piss him off, instead choosing to wear all black with a leather jacket instead. It was professional and neat, but he wasn't going to dress up in a monkey suit for a drink with his brother.

Hayden was early and he expected Ethan to be late.

The shower was hot and the pressure was good and without Lily waiting on him he took a much longer shower than the one before work. His muscles ached and the world lost focus as he drowned under the streaming water. Nox's whole body relaxed and the pain echoed through it. It knew what it was missing. It hurt, it mourned. It didn't pressured Nox into ending it.

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to live like this. He knew that the earbud was only a bandaid. And he knew that he needed more than just Lily and his family to survive, but he didn't dare think about who he needed. Nox was no longer sure that Raffe wanted to share a life with him. He hadn't wanted to look for a place with him. He hadn't wanted to anything together. Nox had always pressured him, always flirting, always being the one to act. He should just let it go. It was the rational thing to do.

But Love wasn't rational. And Nox remembered loving Raffe to the ends of the earth and back even after he walked away. And then Raffe was gone. They hadn't spoken in months, and when Raffe did text back more than an acknowledgement it was never about them. Nox needed to talk to Raffe.

He climbed out of the shower dripping wet and wishing he'd just fall and crack his head open. It would be an accident. But his luck was not there. And if he felt guilt, it would be the feeling running through his body now. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to end his life -- not really. But it was hard to go on when every breath burned his lungs, when the world seemed dark and dim.

Time held no concept in his head without his wallet or watch, stark naked in his bathroom alone Nox didn't know how long he stood there staring into the mirror trying to remember what it felt like to be alive.