Her calm was gone. The place she'd saught to find peace gone forever. It hadn't mattered when he fled to Mexico, he was still there, still in this world. Now she'd never feel that unique calm even when he was excited about things he was calm.

Nox had pulled her from her dwelling - the darkness that had started to take over. He carried her over his shoulder like a child. Aria hated him in that moment. Hated the man he was. Hated he wasn't sad at her loss. Hated that he was a god. Hated that he was Atharim. She beat at his back and tried to press him with her emotions but they had worked hard to defeat that chance. Her manipulating him.

He was empty of everything as the fires around them burned. Dane burned. The girl burned. the building had burned around them and Nox walked through fire like a phoenix rising. Her hatred for him and what he represented made her cringe inside. And when he set her down Aria could have killed him then. But he was holding the power. He'd stop her - kill her. He'd break her in half before she could pull the trigger or sheath her sword in the soft center of his chest.

Instead Aria jerked away and ran. Ran as fast as she could away from him. Away with her fury and her hatred. The Atharim would pay. Gods would pay. The world would burn for their folley.

Alex was glad Ivan was finally coming to his senses. Both Atharim were dangerous. It didn't matter if one was a cop he had just proven he was Atharim before cop any day of the week. Alex had the right mind to call in the LT and have them both arrested as sympathizers to the killing of human beings. She was sure there was something that would link them back to the Atharim.

Alex left with Ivan grateful to be away from them, the boy's display of power had been unnerving. The shattered glass in the plaster made her shiver, imagine what breathing it in would have done. Or the pain those tiny glass shards would have caused.

But outside Alex felt like a new person away from the clausterphobia of the Ascendant power - these channelers were everywhere.

Alex laughed at Ivan's good ole boy charm his naivety to the situation. "Idealism is great. But they are Atharim. Stone cold killers."


Alex nodded to his request to walk him home, adding "You aren't some dumb kid."
She opened the door and slid into the leather seat and waited for Ivan to buckle in.

"I can't believe you let a confessed murderer walk free Ivan. He killed that man. There is no forensic data to prove him correct. Why do you trust him? For that matter what do you plan on doing to find the man who murdered those kids?"

Almost 4 years exactly. That was a pretty good run for a PC if I do say so myself.

R.I.P. Dane Raphiel Gregory

Go enjoy that great piano in the sky, buddy.

[[Continued from Birth]]

Armande stepped into the room. It was quiet. The moisture in the air had all but dissipated. The strong scent of soap and shampoo still lingered, though. He felt a stirring at that. He wanted to be clean. But first Valeriya.

She was curled up on the floor of the room in a corner, wrapped in a warm blanket. He quirked a smile at that. She had foregone the bed. Her deep even breathing said she was lost in sleep. Almost he woke her, to help her into the bed. But instead he stayed his hand. The pallets of the Khylsty were harder than the carpeted floor of this room. And she looked so peaceful in her slumber. He walked over to her and squatted down, studying her quiet repose in the shadows.

Her sharp and beautiful features were softened, bathed in darkness. Her hair appeared damp and it took him a moment to realize she had removed the carved ornaments. He smiled. She was no half hearted person. He felt a sense of protectiveness wash over him. He did not fight it. He did not reject it. He peacefully accepted it as part of him. He would not be half hearted either.

It was an indication of how tired she was that she did not stir when he leaned down and gently kissed her cheek and then made sure the blankets covered her adequately. He did not want to disturb her.

He closed the door of the adjacent bathroom quietly and then flipped on the light fan for the white noise. Carefully he peeled off his layers of clothing until he stood naked before the mirror. Scars and slashes, some decades old, others fresh, criss crossed his still muscled shoulders and chest, arms and torso. A sharp puckered trio of slashes ran down the left side of his ribs. The drainaka had been fast, part of a group. No man faced four of them without some injury. His armor had split at one point and the claw had ripped through, nearly putting paid to him.

Not fatal. Not yet. He still wore burns from the fire on one side of his neck and trapezius. The medication and treatment had helped, but the body took time to heal.

But his forearm....that was what hurt. Not physically. Not just physically. His orobouros, taken into his flesh decades ago was now torn and broken. The rock and rebar had scrapedhis flesh as Apollyon had dragged him in front of him. Barovsky....he smiled. His oldest friend, when his friends were more work partners than anything else. The man's last shot, before the traitor Aria killed him, had put the Destroyer down.

What a cost. But worth it. So worth it. Still, it hurt to see the once whole serpent now broken and torn. Sacrifice. Everything had its cost.

He looked at the counter and saw the carvings from Valeriya's hair, strands still gripping them. It must have hurt but she likely laughed as she tore them free. He smiled. Always a price. Still, after a moment, he scooped up the pile and wrapped them in tissue paper. He was not one for sentimentality. But somehow he didn't want to get rid of them. They went into his pouch for another time.

He got into the shower and felt the dirt and grime and smoke wash off him. An entire lifetime. He felt cleansed, reborn. When he emerged he was only wearing a towel. He got some spare travelling clothes.

He needed some sleep. He was tempted to curl up next to Valeriya but thought better of it. Not now. That would complicate things, especially if she woke. He exited the room and found a spare cot. Illarion appeared to still be awake because his head moved when he came out. He nodded at the boy and found a spare cot. Just before he went to sleep he did one more thing. He used encrypted communucation to get in touch with Theiss. The man responded only briefly. First and foremost, he told Regus to use anti-surveillance protocols. He understood. The death of Apollyon was not the end. It was possible his face was known. The man arranged for the supplies he wanted. The innoculations, antibiotics, first aid supplies. He also needed weapons. He still had what was in his pack, but that wpuld not be enough. Tjere was no telling what they might need. Travel supplies. Above all, he needed information. Strangely, Theiss was unforthcoming. Alarms went off in his mind.

He gave himself three hours. It would be around mid afternoon when he woke.

The time came and he was up. A few of the Khylsty had awakened. Briefly, he showed them the food, how it was to be eaten.

Finally, Armande told them he'd be back with instructions to stay inside. The three he'd taken to training nodded. They would keep everyone inside.

Slipping out the door, he took various roads and alleys to get to the rendezvous point. The old man wasn't there. But his aide was. Andrez. The truck he was in was small and old but everything fit in the bed, disguised as construction supplies. Just a contractor going to work.

Andrez too seemed reticent. "What is the problem, Andrez?" The man refused to meet his eye and Armande's suspicion grew. It was too public a place to kill him....maybe. Had Theiss betrayed him? White hot rage filled him at this thought

The man must have seen the death in his eyes. "No, sir! No! But have you....." He trailed off. He swallowed. "Have you watched the feeds?" He nooded at Armande's wallet. No. He hadn't. In hindsight, he should have. But he had been in a cocoon, from the night of the fire, up to and including his slipping out the door moments ago. Or perhaps a chrysalis. Foolish, in any event. He had been foolish.

He pulled his wallet, unsure what to look for. Andrez's voice was weak. "Search Ascendancy..."

Armande did so. And it seemed as if acid were burning his forearm. Anger boiled inside him. His voice was death. "Not a word. To anyone. Tell Theiss too."

He needed to think. For the first time he could remember in years, he was at a loss.

Alexandrova Vladislavovna - Leonid Bykov

Office of the Consul on Public Engagement, Propaganda, and Interdominance Relations

Office of the Consulate on Communications

Talk to me about Persephone. What did you guys all determine did she really do in the previous age and how did it transform into the myth we all know as "the rape of persephone"?

I know it was something about her and Hades were truly in love and married in secret against the wishes of her family. But that's about all I know.

I probably will be too busy tomorrow so I'll say it now. And for some of you it is already Christmas anyway.

Merry Christmas!!

Hope y'all have a great day.

I probably will be too busy tomorrow so I'll say it now. And for some of you it is already Christmas anyway.

Merry Christmas!!

Hope y'all have a great day.

The trip was slow going. Not just because of the injuries. The higher they went, the more uncertainty and fear grew. Their band was large. Most tunnel dwellers, those higher up anyway, stayed in groups only half their size. Large enough to deter scavengers and any others who might be dangerous- man or otherwise. Small enough that a small warren of tunnel junctions and pools and whatever else that had been scavenged could support them sufficiently. A little village.

The Khylsty were a different matter entirely. They had born and lived and died under a ceiling of rock and tunnels that was miles thick. The air felt compressed and warm. A womb, nurturing and gestating them, until it was time for the Khylsty to be born naked and bloody and screaming at the strange world they would find themselves in.

He understood their fear and even their terror as they ascended through the bowels of hell, the ante-chamber, the birth canal leading to a new life Above. Fear and terror could easily lead to violence and death- his, Valeriya's, Matvei. Any and everyone, if they gave into it.

Armande knew immediately that his role needed to change, at least for the time being. He was now midwife to this people. Their father, as they called him. Moses, leading them through the wilderness and into the promised land.

His first job was to help them make the gradual transition. That meant avoiding the more used tunnels. The trip would take longer, but that was not a bad thing. Time was what was needed. And for that he needed freedom. He walked at their head for a time, observing those few who were near him. The "youngest"- if they could be called that, in comparison to Valeriya and her brother- who'd killed the cherufe when they first departed, could be valuable.

Sasha, Evgeni, Inessa, and Lev listened as he walked and explained what to be alert for. They knew creatures better than anyone. But they had never ventured this high. Knowledge made the the unknown less fear inspiring. He showed them what to look for and what to avoid so their trip would continue ever upward without encountering the larger encampments. It would mean turning back occasionally, but it would be better.

Confident they could lead for a time, Armande turned his attention back to the others. Valeriya was tired. He could see it in her eyes. She was Eye to this people- his Eye- but she was young still. She'd carried this weight for who knew how long. She knew, far more than any of the others, where they were going. He'd seen her scratchings on the walls. She'd engineered their exodus. But now it was her turn to have some respite, if only for a moment. And reassurance.

"You will do well," he told her with confidence, a hand on her shoulder, before nodding to Illarion with respect. She was strong. All the Khylsty were. But they were human too. He walked from person to person, inquiring about their welfare. Many were stoic and silent, while only a handful voiced complaints. He used the last of his first aid equipment to help those whose injuries were most painful. Water was low and so was food. They would only last a few days with rationing. They would not have time to hunt or forage, which meant they needed to get supplies another way. The thought did not please him, but it had to be done.

At times he could only guess as 'night' they took breaks, himself and a few of the others standing guard for watch periods. In the quiet, he could hear the whispered speaking of the people, their concerns. On one of the earliest nights, Valeriya's screams woke him from a daze. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. He was tired too. Before he could go to her, though, Illarion was by her side. He watched them silently through the dark shadows for a moment, before taking the watch from Lev.

And then, during the day, they trudged along. He had a job to do. Back and forth, through the people to the head, back to the vanguard he had appointed Matvei and a few others to bring up, he walked. "The world has changed, it is true. The world you know is gone. But the Khylsty were kept safe down here for a reason. God has seen to it that you were vouchsafed and made hard. Be proud!"

At first, his words were just words. But he repeated them in variations, recounting to them the pride he felt in them, the strength he sensed in them, the power of their Eye. He told them they were the chosen people, a holy race. He also explained to them some of the things they would see. It was fanciful, of course. They had no frame of reference. But he hoped the repetition and explanations helped them get a hold on their emotions.

After three or four days, the need for supplies became critical. He took the four Khylsty he'd begun to train that first day on scouting missions. There were very few people this far down but hopefully they had ascended high enough. Fate was with them. A small group, no more than ten or fifteen. Thankfully, not the vile Naga or any other creatures. They looked worn out- far more than normal tunnel people. As if they had been running. Worn out, fearful and bloody. Their attention had been on the warren of tunnels off in one direction. Their surprise was not satisfying- it was never going to be, not in a case like this- but it did make things easier. No one killed but enough injured that they could take what they needed without any further resistance. It wasn't a lot, but it would get them through the next few days. Those people could always head back up and get more supplies from the relief organizations that frequented the tunnels.

Between that and his regular attempts at morale boosting, things started to change. Gradually, people began to latch on to his words. As he expected. Faced with fear, staring into the darkness, standing before the unknowable, the need for purpose became as important as food. His words took on a rhythmic cadence, insistent. A heartbeat. A never ending heartbeat. The change was palpable, that powerful sense of purpose that he now sensed as they walked. Temporary, of course. The old rivalries were still there. Fear would return as well. But the common enemy was before them- survival- and the promise of the future- their hope- in front of them. it united them.

The buzzing in his pack grabbed his attention. His wallet had come to life. Evidently, they had ascended high enough for signal to make it down here. Or perhaps some tunnel dwellers had set up a series of signal repeaters for their own use. At least in this one spot. In any case, he pulled it out and used what information he could to get an idea of where they were. It was easy to lose any sense of location without a frame of reference. The compass in his pack had been very necessary.

It was enough, though. They were moving east. On the surface, it appeared to be toward the red light district. His mouth turned down. Not an auspicious introduction of the surface to these people. This group used sex as a binder, a shared frenzy that tied them closer together. From what he had been able to gather, though, outside of that, they appeared very reserved. Seeing the surface there would shock them. But perhaps that was a good thing. Another tool that would knit them all the more closer, the alienness of it all. It would increase their dependency on him. And very likely, it would cement their belief that they had been chosen and kept safe to save the an unclean world.

This could work. In his mind, he ran through Atharim resources available. There were a few places there he could choose. One was big and isolated enough, just on the edge right where it came up against the industrial district of Moscow. An abandoned office with an underground warehouse. It would fit the Khylsty. It would give them some place familiar to acclimate too. Likely, the safehouse was empty, though he couldn't be completely sure, after the fire. And they'd need weapons. He'd have to see about contacting his Archangels to find out what was going on. Quietly. The killing of Apollyon had likely set the city- indeed the empire- ablaze. That would make things easier. Still, caution was second nature to him.

"We are nearing the end of our journey," he told them. "Only a day or two more and we will reach the surface." A few faces showed hope. A few showed fear. And many more were blank. He stifled irritation. Patience. He would have to be patient with them.

He looked to Valeriya expectantly. She had had her respite. Hopefully, she was ready now to begin shouldering the load again. There was much to do for the both of them.


Edited by Regus, Dec 1 2017, 03:57 PM.

He met Annalise at the market at ten o'clock. The open air spectacle operated twenty-four hours a day, especially during tourist season. With the influx of tourists to see the Ascendancy's archway, the market capitalized on the flood of people. Dane was standing in front of a booth that sold nesting dolls when Annalise found him. Neither of them were from Moscow, and he thought it would be a rather enticing date to walk around the market together. They spent the next half hour examining the goods for sale. At a booth that sold women's accessories, Dane paused, pulled a purple scarf from a hook and snaked it around her neck. He smiled down at her as he did. "It's a good color on you."
He did up a little knot and sinched it at her throat. She coughed and pulled it looser with a finger. "Too tight?"
She laughed, nodded and fixed it the way she liked it. He happily paid for the scarf and asked if she was ready to eat.

They walked side-by-side away from the bustle of the market. It was a good six blocks to the restaurant he chose. At the pace they strolled, it was after eleven by the time they arrived. The restaurant kept a minimal kitchen offering after ten, but neither of them cared. A dark bar took up the entirety of the shotgun style restaurant. There were only eight tables in total lining the opposite wall. With most people huddled around the bar top, they had their choice of tables. Dane chose the one closest to the front door and guided her to a seat.

Annalise ordered a cocktail, and he copied her selection, complimenting her on the choice. Their conversation was much the same as it had been in the library, although it was no longer tempered by hushed voices of the former atmosphere. He offered a toast to new friends when their drinks arrived, but while she sampled the libation, he only put the rim of the glass to his lips. Then he joined her in complimenting the drink.

When she asked where he grew up, he went into great detail about the place he called home. "My great grandfather was a Duke. Although the CCD abolished the peerage, our titles exist only in tradition. My grandfather holds the esteemed title of Duke. My father that of mere courtesy titles and with the recent passing of my brother, I have inherited the right to the title of Baron."
She seemed to have no clue what he was trying to say. His voice sharpened suddenly, "It means I should be addressed as Lord Gregory."


Of course, the bite with which he substantiated his explanation was quickly retracted. "Please, I am sorry. With my brother's sudden demise, a terrible, terrible accident, I know that I will inherit only the shame of former glory. It is a melancholy title that I do not lightly use."


When Annalise softened, she put her hand on his and while he restrained himself from recoiling at the sudden touch, he forced his fingers to close around hers, knowing that victory was at hand.

"I'm so sorry, Dane. My heart goes out to you. You have a kind and loving heart. I see now why you were in the library."


He rimmed the glass with a finger, avoiding her gaze like the vulnerability was too painful.

She shifted in her seat to switch from sitting across from him to sitting alongside him. While she slid the seat near, his gaze flicked to the other inhabitants in the room, in case anyone was watching, but smiled softly when she met his eyes.

A touch on his arm, a hand laid across his shoulder. He stopped himself from recoiling every time. She finished her cocktail while his seemed untouched. After ordering a second, she excused herself to use the restroom. Dane shifted in his seat, meanwhile, and padded the pocket of his sportscoat, ensuring that the vial within remained hidden.

Until a waiter delivered her new drink. He stared at it, glistening there, a pool of pale blue cupped atop a slender stem. His heart began to race as he slipped the vial into his palm.

Concealed, he picked up his own drink, took a small sip, then dropped it as he set it down. He sprung up to contain the mess of liquid from pouring into his lap. The noise of the drop summoned a waiter, but he retrieved her glass from the ensuing flood of sticky liquid. Just before placing it on a nearby table, he turned, obscuring the cup with the form of his body, and poured the vial's contents into her drink.

He smiled to himself and made himself comfortable at the next table while the wait staff cleared the mess.


Edited by Dane Gregory, Nov 23 2017, 10:36 PM.