House Party

[Sage]

Jaxen pardoned himself from the table leaving behind potential coin, but I guess for a man rich like him he didn't need it. Sage didn't either but he also wasn't gambling, just watching the proceedings. It wasn't fair after all.

Not that he cared.

A boy -- could only have been a boy came up to him and started writing on his chest. He almost flipped a switch and smacked the kid before he realized he was just decoding the message on his name tag. "Of course it's fair. Everyone can figure it out. I'm not hiding it." He shrugged as he looked at the kids name tag. "Thyme. I've heard of you. Though I won't let you in my little secret about the Time who got Caught."

It could mean meaning things and Sage wished he could see the kids face behind the Ronald Regan mask, but such was the game today. He had no name to go with the face, only a signature of his phone. That would be easy to follow and find where he lived and who he was. Sage was certain every hacker in the joint was racking up his connections. And he was also pretty cetain any good hacker was bouncing their signals around the world never to be found. He didn't bother trying to trace this one, he just wanted to know what towers he pinged the cameras would do the rest.

He still could hardly believe this kid gave him a run for his money when he tried to hack into Paragon. So that meant he was on their staff -- another means to finding out this true identity. He wondered if Thyme's parents knew of his alter ego -- probably not. Catch was caught when he was far younger than he was now. It made the news when the kid hacker got found, but it quickly vanished from the media -- a cover up to the fullest extent. He shouldn't be here.

Sage put an around the kids shoulder and walked him away from the table. "You shouldn't be here. Getting caught could be dangerous."

[Sage]

Once customer left. Another appeared. There likely be a line of unsuspecting customers. But something about the kid in front of it was wrong. Not just lying, but wrong. It smelled wrong -- grime and dirt and decay. It peeked their interest. They didn't care about the answer it gave, but only a tool to get the answers they desired.

But another lie was told. But there was money to be earned. And maybe a regular customer. "Another of those and I'll throw in an extra. Ten total."

It looked at us with dubious eyes. A half smile creapt across their face but the boy child could not see it through the mask -- a typical dealing. Fear wafted from it. And it pulled another black chit from its pocket before handing it over. "Deal"

It didn't wait around for more than the package to be handed over before it slipped off around the corner.

They followed it into the crowd and spied upon it till it disappeared up the stairs. Curious.

A name flashed across its vision and the child was forgotten. The enemy. The challenge. But he wasn't alone. He was dragging along another child -- a clean one, too entergentic for its taste. Best to avoid. Watch and wait...

[Esper]

Esper loved the attention of centre stage, and she had been prepared to make a spectacle, yet when Roza took the reins she fit seamlessly with the other’s wishes instead. If there was something sinister in the sharp edges of her grin, it smoothed to simple curiosity when the spotlight shifted. While Roza commandeered Voxel’s attention, Esper was staring quite openly. Not studying his features, clearly, but contemplating something despite the mask that concealed his identity. She didn’t know him; she knew that by the shape of his emotions alone. Which explained nothing of why he also felt familiar.

But there was no real time to consider it. Esper danced to the tune Roza played. Seduction was an act she knew how to conjure well, and in youth there was no self consciousness. She liked that others watched every curl of hip and hands. Yet as she played the part it was while somehow managing to keep herself extricated from straying touch. Emotion was more intoxicating than the highest high, but it was also infection, and she didn’t quite know what Voxel was. Besides being eager as a spring lamb led for slaughter anyway. Esper intended little more than to charm him from his clothes, and then leave him bereft of them, but the moment he strung the rope playfully around his own neck she felt the thrill shiver through Roza, and knew the game had changed.

Usually she was content to wrap herself in the lusts of others. They’d done this a thousand times before, and all those times Esper found herself in perfect sync. Roza hummed the warning before her blossoming gift, and even now Esper’s senses lit with the deep headiness of it. The breathing deepened in her chest, flooding the cavity in her chest with want, and in the shadows she bit her lip. But she’d never felt it as a war before, at least not where Roza was concerned. Because while every nerve in her reacted to arousal, it was around a kernel of her own disquiet.

She knew what Roza was about now; knew what she must be thinking. Despite long years among them, the ways of the Romani made no sense to Esper. Truthfully, the ways of people made no sense to Esper. She accepted it with disinterest, content to step within the boundaries Roza set and simply steal the moments they were allowed. She didn’t care who Roza brought into her bed, or into their bed, because they were transient pleasures. And on the few occasions Roza’s attention had been turned by boys in anyway that suggested longevity, Esper had ensured it was short-lived.

Faceless Voxel was not that kind of threat; they might never see him again. But he represented worse. She had no wish for a different kind of parasite to grow between them. A first-born bargain to placate the disapproving eyes of a mother who sometimes waited up for them at night, to ensure heated girlish fancies remained only fancies. Esper understood deals pragmatically and without sentiment, and her recoil was selfish, not for care of an innocent soul, but for what it might grow to replace in Roza’s affections. Though in the realisation it wasn’t Roza who Esper felt the seething swell of anger at, or even the strange constraints of her family; it was Voxel, for being the tool that might take away from Esper the only thing that mattered to her: Roza.

[Oriena]

[[Continued from Feed the Horde]]

She skidded them to a halt. Between the adrenaline of the ride, the remnants of drugs and alcohol still racing through her system, Nox’s carnal attentions, and the unusual night’s events, she wasn’t feeling so bad. What she thought of the obvious and loud party spilling from Nox’s new place was obscured by the inscrutable look she threw back at him over her shoulder. But she didn’t shove him unceremoniously off her ride and leave him in the dust, so it couldn’t be all bad.

Ori didn’t wait for him to make a decision, or offer an explanation, and it was clear she didn’t intend to ferry him anywhere else now they were here. She climbed off, and though she didn’t secure the bike, she did do something to it with a quick flick of the power. Nox was free to follow or fret; she headed in, running her eyes up and down the partygoers spilled out the front door as though it were her own domain they were intruding on. Each one was in a mask.

In the entrance she picked up one of the sharpies, brow raised. By the time Nox came close, she turned to slap a label on his chest with a smirk. It had no words, just a pair of angel wings and a halo. The one she added to her own leather outfit just said Bite Me.

“You need me to get rid of your guests?” She ran her thumb along the seam of her blood-bitten lip. Blood and sex. Her eyes glittered, not with the simmering anger of before, but something as equally feral as it was mischievous. She wasn’t kidding, of course, but it wasn’t a threat either. At least not if he kept her adequately distracted. She slipped her way backwards; let him be the hunter. His fix didn’t care about the face. At a party like this, he could probably find something more suited to his taste. But she knew he wouldn’t.

[Nox]

Oriena propped her bike up. He felt the cool tingle of her power down his spine. It sent a shiver through his body, both in excitement and fear. What the fuck was going on here. Who the fuck is having a party at his house and didn't even invite him. But his mind glossed over most of it as he watched Oriena walk and he followed. She wasn't detered so that was good in his book. The horde was still rumbling. Pushing at him to finish what they started.

He glanced down at the name tag and chuckled. He liked Oriena's too and have every intention of following her instructions quite literally. He licked his lips and shook his head slightly and grabbed her hand before she slipped a way. He nodded towards the stairs to go down into the spare room Sage had set up for him. "Better venue."

Oriena resisted his pull towards him with an evil glint in her eye. "And what's wrong with right here?"

He licked his lips and tilted his head to the side and smiled. He moved into her and wrapped his arm around waist and pushed through the crowd staring into her eyes. "Nothing at all."

Nox reached through the slime covering the power and the horde pulsed with the power. They feared it but they respected it. But it brought on different sensations for them now. He push his power out into the walls and turned off all the lights. The music cranked up louder. He'd explored the house with his power and knew were all of it when he first moved in. He knew it inside out. But he dropped the power and focused his whole attention on the woman in the dark. He didn't care what anyone else did as he tangled his mechanical hand in Oriena's hair and angled it back so he could bite at her neck again. Right where they had left off before he got half a conscience.

[Seven]

The masked event was extravagantly eclectic. The attendees wore everything from simple disguises to highly elaborate costumes. A pair of girls, their faces painted with makeup that would shame a professional artist, passed him on their way to another room. He watched them move through the party with a sense of purpose and appreciated their graceful coordination. Of course, this wasn't the kind of event for networking—everyone's identities were masked as securely as their faces—so Seven relaxed into the spirit of pure revelry. To that end, the mouth of his horse's mask was slitted just enough for him to slide a straw through.

Before long, he was quite drunk, and drunk Seven was a ton of fun. He danced until he was sweating and ditched his jacket somewhere, hoping it would still be there when he left for the night, but if not, c'est la vie. He bantered with others about their masks, some hilariously cartoonish, and gave as good as he got. At the behest of the other partygoers, who formed a sort of circle around him, he began to mime the galloping of the stallion he was impersonating. The act grew increasingly absurd as the crowd reacted. Someone grabbed the attached reins and led him around by the mouth, which naturally resulted in plenty of bucking and neighing. The jokes escalated to outright lude insinuations, and Seven was more than happy to keep everyone entertained.

Then suddenly a surge of power crossed his senses and the lights winked away. He wasn’t so intoxicated as to pay it zero mind, but as soon as someone pulled his body close to theirs, shoved the mask off his head, and kissed him with the intensity of a dam breaking apart, he cared not a wit. He broke free to catch his breath, and try to peer through the blackness. Wallet lights stayed dark, as it seemed everyone shared the same love for the freedom darkness brought, and things soon descended to madness. He caught his bearings, suddenly lurching with the alcohol and lack of visual orientation, but when he grabbed the next person, his lips found an entirely different pair. The body beneath smooth and muscular where before it was sinuous and luscious, and with it, passion ignited.

[Sage]

There was a disturbance. A faint tickle at the back of their head. An old memory, something stirred inside. Power flooded the power lines a strange light tinged with the dark. And then the darkness filled the room, the music grew louder. The prey was lost in the darkness. The enemy plunged away from sight.

The throng of people changed, the lights had been a barrier and in the darkness the barrier broke. Masks were shed. The energy changed. The sounds of bodies prevailed under the music.

It fled to the side, away from the mobbing throng of people. It searched for the power, but it didn't not find it. Instead it made its way to the walls "Stay." it's voice like gravel as they went into the walls to find the power it had lost.

[Hayden]

His father, rather grand father was not happy he was staying in Moscow. Ethan was supposed to be there, not him. But Hayden wanted nothing to do with the family business -- either of them, but he was currently under order to follow Nox around and he'd do that. He wasn't very interesting in Moscow. He lived in the Red Light District. He worked at a club. He fought in another. He buried the body of the girl. There was no report. Nothing to cover up. He did it and Hayden wasn't sure how.

And then he was just gone. He saw no sign of him for three days until he received a text from Gideon with a blurry image of what looked like Nox and the accompanying text said "lover boy" followed by a series of lewd emojis that Hayden wasn't sure his brother was trying to say about Nox.

Hayden wasn't far away. A block or so really. The safe house Nox had cleared was theirs. And he was using it now. might turn it into a bar instead of a dumb clothing shop. Who the fuck thought that was a good idea....

His brother had been right, the party was at Nox's house. And he even caught sight of him, he looked like shit and he was wrapping himself around a very leather clad women who Hayden could only assume was Oriena, his friend with benefits. They seemed very eyes for each other. He wondered about the guy Nox was hung up on. Wondered if he was here. Wondered who's party this was because Nox didn't seem to quite fit the bill of the residents he'd spied.

He hadn't bothered with a mask and he didn't have a name tag. There hadn't been time. He felt hands on his backside and then in the next moment lips touched his and his preoccupation with Nox vanished. He didn't particularly care who he was kissing, he felt good. Hayden's hand wrapped around the back of his neck and deepend the kiss.

[Liam H]

The Wicked Truth knew who he was. Excitement coursed through his veins. His arm wrapped around Liam. This night couldn't get any better.

A man walked into the party without a mask, his name tag wings and a halo. an angel. The Wicked Truth leaned down and whispered in his ear. "You should leave. It's not safe here anymore." The man slipped away as the darkness shifted around them.

The darkness followed by the words made Liam wonder what was going on. Why wasn't it safe? The man he'd seen was famous for displays of power and maybe The Wicked Truth knew him. Why was it dangerous now? Liam slid through the crowd looking for a way out before getting entangled in the throng of people.

[Nesrin Aziz]

The woman in the muta mask preferred the shadows. A neat velvet oval obscured her features, and black hair slid unusually sleek around her shoulders. The dress was smokey dark, and showed a lot of long bronze leg, but not much else; she did not stand out, dancing alone amongst a throng of others, hips and arms to the sway of an old ghawazi rhythm the whores of her youth had favoured. She was content in the anonymity, the incidental slide and touch of hands, and the silence of her own company. But behind that mask, her dark eyes missed little.

Amidst the crowd, a devil pressed a gloved finger to his latex lips, and she was about to turn her back to the proposition before something in the tilt of his head gave her a heartbeat’s pause. His finger crooked, and she instinctively used the distraction against him. He wouldn’t see the smirk, only the sly eyes behind her mask as her fingers dipped into his pockets in curious reflex. Not that he’d be carrying anything identifiable at a party like this, but she still felt a swell of disappointment when she found only the edges of a presumed burner phone. She left it there. He was already shifting like he expected her to follow, and she had little intention of such distractions so early in the night. In those last moments before he disappeared she didn’t know why she swiped the badge from his lapel instead.

The dancers swallowed her backwards, and she let herself be engulfed. Didn’t look for him again as she shifted back into the music, though she did pin his badge to her own chest.

The night grew more raucous as the alcohol fuelled, and she moved amongst the revellers in silence. She witnessed the arrival of the maskless duo before the lights plunged and the music cranked louder. A face she recognised with some small surprise, because she had presumed it was behind Wicked’s red screaming mask. But it wasn’t that which prompted the curve of her lips, but the call of mischievous opportunity. There was safety in the arms of darkness. Invitation of sin. And she’d been remembering the nametags she’d encountered, for no other reason than a mind always on the move – and always looking out for her own interests.

She loosened the button between her teeth, and let the moretta muta slip from her face. Then she tugged the nearest pair of hips close, pulled free the long muzzle of a mask, and voraciously kissed the mouth beneath. Her fingers tangled the damp hair at the nape of his neck, body pulled close. For random chance, it was a surprisingly good kiss. Yet when he broke panting for air, she tilted him gently away in the darkness, a giddy and playful twist, sending him dizzy into the arms of another. A gentle encouragement to a game that would shed remaining inhibitions. She donned her own mask once more – the puppeteer, not a puppet – and in so doing felt the flutterings of another kind of power in her veins.