Round and Round We Go

[Nox]

By the time they landed Nox had one too many drinks which was just the singular tiny bottle of vodka. Not so much that he couldn't walk, but enough he sat in the terminal for thirty minutes while Sage dealt with the car and the luggage. He was spent. Totally and truly spent. He needed a moment. The anxiety was just too much. 

Sage drove them to a nice hotel. They had a suite though it only had two rooms. Nox pointed at one. "Sage and I'll take this one, the other is yours. We can talk plans after a nap, dinner and a shower, but probably not in that order."

Though Nox probably had a run and some yoga in that mix specially since there wouldn't be any trolling for sex for a bit. And he wasn't about to ask the two he was with to help with that.  Specially not Sage, Sage would agree, but Nox wouldn't do that to Aiden.  They already pushed the boundaries of friends sometimes, that was one line Nox wasn't going to cross.

But right now. He needed food.  "I'm ordering anyone else want anything?"

After he ordered his phone rang. A strange call to get but he went into the other room to take it. Not that he cared if Ryder listened, but he wasn't sure if Connor wanted anyone else to know -- though sage had already been on it.

When he was done the food had arrived and he was starving.

[Sage]

Nox was a mess, the only thing keeping his sanity was the tiny baby he was totally absorbed in. He'd doubted the reasons the baby had come, but maybe it was a good idea for someone to keep his carnal and visceral desires at bay. He was pretty sure that Ryker/Ryder or whoever he wanted to be called wouldn't be that person. He'd probably send Nox down some killing spree. And then he might have to do something about Nox and his murderous rages.

Not something Sage wanted to really think about.

But Nox got a call from a dead man. The moment he heard the voice he knew and Sage's mind went straight to tracking an old friend. It was good knowing he was alive, but he shouldn't have contacted Nox if he was worried about the Atharim. Nox worked for them again -- may not be part of them, but he was working for them.

Now Nox sat on the couch eating a rare steak and not much else. He had a garden salad on the side, but it was rarely touched. The horde had changed his appetite drastically. Sage poked at whatever he'd ordered, he'd forgotten and it didn't matter anyway it was nourishment to his body and to his body he was just a vessel of surfing the web for data.

He had a lot on his plate, contacts to make which he did while he did everything else.

"You'll watch Lily for me?" Nox tapped Sage's shoulder.

Sage nodded. "Yeah, as best I can." Which was saying that she might not like him too much but he'd make sure she was clean and fed and looked after. He could manage that. He might not play with her or entertain her like Nox, but he would tend to her -- a lot like he might a puppy. Sage wasn't exactly sure why Nox wanted a kid, but he seemed happy -- much happier than he had been in the past even with the horde still raging inside.

[Ryker]

Raised on tit and vodka, Ryker could throw back the drinks as hard as anyone. But he kept a close side eye on Nox throughout the flight, once it became apparent he was throwing back his body weight in bottles. Ryker completely abstained, meanwhile. Despite knowing how to party, and party hard, Ryker was quite professional when on assignment. He wanted his wits about him, more so because the destined country was one that already locked him up and threw away the key. It wouldn't happen a second time. 

The plane ride was uneventful. He was amazed that the child was so quiet. A thought did occur to him though. Could he use his “influence” to make the thing stop crying? Suppose if it ever came to that, it was worth a shot. Worse that could happen was overdoing it and accidentally commanding it to die. 

The hotel was fine. Ryker preferred the lap of luxury, but he could slum it when needed in a fleabag suite; he was playing the middle class asshole, after all. This place would suit Ryder’s identity.

He spoke briefly with Nox and Sage regarding plans. While the two blowholes were going to nap and eat, Ryker had check-ins to complete for team leader. He departed to the privacy of his own room to do just that. Afterward, they met up when the meal arrived.

Trained to operate on days without sleep, Ryker left the two behind to fuck each other or whatever while he went on a short scouting tour of the city.

[Nox]

[[ ooc: gotta bit before Connor and Ayden get to a point where the plot can progress so we can do some channeling stuff ]]

Nox feverishly ate his food. He wasn't starving but there were things in motion that fueled the horde and right now, this was the only outlet he had. He almost ordered a second steak but instead opted to go the more traditional route and opened the cleared some space in their shared space. Lily slept in the middle of the bed while Nox preformed what he could in the space he had.

It wasn't a dance, it was neither coerographed or intentional, totally improvised movements as he imagined fighting someone in slow motion. It was a kata of sorts, but totally random as he moved each muscle slowly and carefully as he warmed up. His body was scarred and the scar tissue made even the simplest movements stiff and broken. He hated it. But it was also why he was doing it slowly, back to the basics, total control of his body, every muscle, every breath controlled.

And once he was moving he reached into the grime of the source and pulled out the power. It raged inside and the horde coward back behind it. He smirked at their eternal reaction to his power, his control. They wanted it, yet they feared it. But there their song was diminished so far from home, but he felt their caged presence still, their numbers were growing again. He'd have to stop it once he got home.

Sage sat on the couch and watched, or he looked like he was watching, Nox was certain he was hacking something or following some infomation. But it didn't matter.

Nox started a normal weave, wove the aurora borealis around him, with each move it flowed and twisted with him, it was a magical sight if you watched, but Nox saw it as practice, and not showing off. Nothing he did was showing off. It was all intentional.

While holding the weave of lights, he began to work a weave that no one, not even himself could see. He'd practiced the shielding weave thousands of times, forwards and backwards until he could do it by memory, because once it was inverted you couldn't see it, he could feel it, but the threads were invisible to even his eye. It was complicated. And to do it while he moved in with percision made it all that more difficult. It was how it grew stronger, how he got faster. Practice had been his life since the moment he could walk. He was nothing more than a weapon -- first for his father, and now for whoever held the reigns. Nox didn't chaffe too much under his current so-called masters. The Atharim let him choose his targets, and the Ascendancy only seemed to send him on things he knew he'd take. The CCD seemed to use him more and more lately and Nox wondered if that was a good show on his part, or if he might be on the losing end of the battle. Only time would tell.

Sweat dripped from Nox's brow as he moved methodically through the shadowed fight in his mind. It wasn't physical exertion, it was the power draining him. His heart pounded in his chest, his breathe caught in his lungs, it may not be physical, but it still tired the body.

[Ryker]

The DC Metro was sacred ground for spies. To agents of the CCD, it was Mecca—a swirling hub of power, secrets, and shadows. Operatives jockeyed for the privilege of working in the political nerve center of the United States, and Ryker had been no different. He still remembered the first time he’d set boots on the cracked pavement outside the Capitol, fresh off a red-eye flight and high on adrenaline. Now, years later, the novelty had faded, but the reverence hadn’t. In a city where monuments cast long shadows and power pulsed through every corner, Ryker knew better than to let his guard down. Not here. Not ever.

After casing their targets earlier that morning, Ryker spent the afternoon walking the quiet streets of the neighborhood they were surveilling. He wasn’t sightseeing. His trained eyes mapped escape routes, scoped out sniper perches, and cataloged the flow of foot traffic. Who lingered? Who moved with purpose? Who watched, and who pretended not to? Every detail mattered. Especially here, where the scent of paranoia clung to the air like humidity.

When he returned to the hotel, the first thing he noticed was the static in the air. A prickle at the back of his neck. Ryker paused on the threshold, hand brushing the pocketknife stashed in his coat. He’d long since learned to trust his instincts, and right now they screamed: something’s off.

Channeling. The word slid through his mind like oil on water, slick and unnerving. He couldn’t see it, not directly, but he felt it—a faint, wrongness humming in the stillness. Whatever they were doing inside wasn’t just unnatural; it was precise, deliberate. And it confirmed what he already suspected about his traveling companions: none of them were normal.

Taking a slow breath, Ryker stepped inside, his every movement deliberate. His eyes darted to the source of the distortion—a patch of air that shimmered faintly under the fluorescent light. There were no streaks, no visible lines of force, nothing tangible he could trace. Just an absence. A hollow where something impossible was happening.

“How are you doing that?” The question slipped out before he could stop it. He knew it was reckless, knew it would mark him as something other than the unassuming analyst he pretended to be. But curiosity gnawed at him, sharper than fear. Some risks were worth taking.

[Nox]

Ryder's voice didn't break his concentration or startle him but he turned with a startled expression at the question. Normally Nox would have been sarcastic and a little flamboyant about his response, but this wasn't a man that looked like he would appreciate that brand of humor.

Nox dropped all the weaves he was holding and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Which part do you want me to explain? I was doing a lot of things all at once." He grinned, unable to help himself. "The dancing part? Or the magic parts?" Though if Nox knew any better he wasn't asking about that, most people just stared in awe as he danced and wove patterns of illusion and lights. It was all part of his show. But he was pretty sure he wanted to know about the hardest part -- the inverted weaves.

Nox stepped over to the table and picked up a bottle of water and cracked the lid to take a long draw of it before he continued. "But you want to know what I did so you couldn't see it, right?"

[Ryker]

Ryker stood where he was, arms crossed, his expression sharp but unreadable. He didn’t flinch when Nox cracked the water bottle and drank, but his eyebrows ticked upward ever so slightly at the grin that followed. Of course the guy was a showman.

He let Nox finish before finally speaking. His voice, calm but laced with sarcasm, cut through the room like a razor.

“Well, I’d start with the ‘magic parts,’ since that’s apparently where we’ve landed today.” He tilted his head, his mouth quirking in a half-smile that was more exasperation than amusement. “But let me guess—‘it’s a secret,’ right? Or maybe you’re going to tell me I just need to ‘believe.’” He rolled his eyes, shifting his weight slightly. “Fuck, I hope there’s not a wand involved.”

He studied Nox for a moment, letting the silence breathe. Then he added dryly, “Also, I have to say, brave move calling it dancing. Sure looked like flailing from where I was standing.” His tone made it hard to tell if it was a dig or a joke, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips suggested the latter.

He stepped closer, slowly, letting the heavy boot falls of his steps punctuate the tension between them. “Look, I’ve seen a lot of things in this line of work. Things that don’t make sense. Things that don’t have explanations. I know when to keep my mouth shut, and I know when to ask questions.” His voice dropped, quieter but sharper. “So I’ll ask again: how?”

His eyes flicked toward Sage momentarily, and he straightened, dropping the pretense. Up until that moment, he maintained the all-American accent, but with the reveal, also voiced his own eastern tongue. “My name’s Ryker. I work for the Custody, which, by the way, I’m assuming you already figured out because you seem like the kind of guy who pokes his nose into places he shouldn’t. No hard feelings.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, a hint of self-awareness softening the sharp edges of his words. “That said, I’m not here to bust your ass. If I was, we’d be having a much less pleasant conversation right now. I’m here to help make sure you do what you’re here to do.”

He paced a few steps, more to burn off energy than anything else, before stopping and facing Nox directly again. “And while we’re coming clean, there’s something else.” He gestured vaguely toward the space where the weaves had been. “I can’t see it. What you’re doing—the weaves, the... lights—I can feel it, but I can’t see it. Which probably tells you more about me than I usually like to let on.”

Ryker smirked, the expression faint but genuine even if it only tugged at the half of his face that wasn’t scarred to oblivion. “And for the record, you can keep the sarcasm coming. I might even start to like you if you’re entertaining enough.”

[Nox]

Nox chuckled. "Not a secret. Hard as fuck to figure out, I wouldn't just share it with anyone, but you work for the Ascendancy and eventually I'll have to show him so he'd show whoever he trusted. He trusted us to work together then I trust you with it. But it took me a long time to master it and it's still hard as fuck to do. Best fucking workout you'll never give your body." He wiped away the sweat still dripping from his hair. "This isn't from the dancing, I've been at this a half hour at most."

Ryker confessed his secrets and Nox smirked. "I knew your name, thanks to my friend The Wicked Truth behind us. A thing we'd rather didn't get around, so trust goes both ways."

He would remember the humor. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Nox sat down on the couch and took a sip of the water again. "It's a bit complicated inverting weaves. It was a long process figure it out. But you don't have to worry about any of that. You won't be blowing anyone up by accident."

"You know how to do the light ball spell?" Nox preformed the simple weave and let the light hang in the air tied off above them. And then he wove the weave backwards, from end to start. "First step is to know the weave literally backwards and forwards cause you'll need to weave it invisible to the eye and backwards."

Nox let the backwards weave go. "When practicing the backwards visible weave don't complete it, or you might blow yourself or everyone up. Or something else not so fun."

Then Nox held a single thread of water in front of him and twisted it and watched it vanish. "And then you twist it so you can't see it and weave it backwards and complete it and you get the weave." Nox finished the water blob inverted but then showed Ryker how the light weave was done again, tying it off and leaving both hanging in the air so he could examine them if he'd like.

[Ryker]

The Ascendancy trusting Ryker? The thought hit him like a bad punchline. He actually chuckled under his breath at the absurdity of it, shaking his head as though Nox had just claimed the moon was made of cheese. Trust was a currency the Ascendancy rarely spent on anyone, let alone a tool like him. But he neither confirmed nor denied Nox’s inference. What would be the point? It wasn’t as if Nox seemed particularly invested in the truth of that statement either.

Instead, Ryker shifted his attention to the dizzying display that followed, his dark eyes narrowing as they tracked every thread, every twist, every motion of Nox’s hands. Whatever else he might think about the guy—his cocky grin, his swagger, the bizarre theatrics—there was no denying Nox was a master of his craft. Ryker wasn’t one to be easily impressed, but this? This was something else.

He crossed his arms over his chest, standing like a statue carved from impatience and scrutiny, but his mind worked furiously behind his calm exterior. He watched as Nox demonstrated the intricacies of the inverted weaves, breaking them down step by step. Backwards and invisible. Subtle and dangerous. It wasn’t just a skill—it was an art. And one that could, apparently, go catastrophically wrong if you weren’t careful.

It was almost funny, in a way. He’d spent years perfecting control, refining every thread of his channeling to the razor edge of utility, but this? This was a whole different kind of precision. And it explained the sweat still dripping from Nox’s hair. Whatever Nox had been doing before Ryker walked in had clearly taken its toll, even if he hid it behind that smirk of his.

Ryker could see the need for practice, could see the risk. But what really struck him was the challenge. The part of him that hated losing, the part that refused to accept any limitation, stirred restlessly at the thought of mastering something so complicated.

Of course, it wasn’t as if he could try it right now. That would mean revealing more than he wanted to—his knife, his limitations, and the tethered relationship he had with the weaves themselves. The knife sat heavy in his pocket, its weight a reminder of what he couldn’t do without it. That was a truth he wasn’t ready to share, not yet.

“Interesting,” was all he said aloud, his tone deliberately neutral. He made sure to keep his expression as flat as possible, giving nothing away.

But of course, Ryker couldn’t help himself for long. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he added, “I can see why you’re sweating like a sinner in church, though. I think I burned calories just watching you. What’s next? An interpretive dance number where you conjure dinner and drinks?”

He smirked faintly, the dry humor offsetting the tension in the air, but his focus remained sharp. He stepped closer to the hanging weaves, examining them like a jeweler appraising a rare diamond. His eyes flicked between the floating light and the inverted water, his fingers itching to reach out but stopping just shy. He wouldn’t let himself appear too curious, though inside he was cataloging every detail with the precision of a field operative.

“And this whole ‘don’t finish the backwards weave or you’ll blow yourself up’ bit? Makes me wonder what your trial-and-error process looked like.” He quirked an eyebrow at Nox. “Do I even want to know how many times you almost turned yourself into a cautionary tale?”

He stepped back from the weaves and folded his arms again, leaning against the edge of the wall as he let the silence hang for a beat. Then, his tone softened—just slightly—as he added, “I’ll give you this much: that’s some seriously impressive work. Pain in the ass to learn, I’m sure, but still... not bad.

[Nox]

Ryker tried to hide his curiosity behind neutrality, but Nox knew any channeler with any idea what the power was capable of would want to know more. Nox let him examine things at his leisure while he continued to cool down from the physical and mental workout. He laughed at the interpeptide dance comment "If you think a dance would help, I mean I got some nice jigs and some jazz tap shoes around here somewhere. But I think room service would be faster."

Nox was surprised by the compliment. He smirked but left it at that. "I learned a long time a go that experimenting with anything other than water could be dangerous. The most water can do is get you wet in inappropriate places. Everything else can be made into accidental shards or worse. And spirit, well... I'd just rather not think about what it could do if it went bad." Nox grinned. "And now that I don't have my sister to heal me I try not to experiment too dangerously. But honestly I probably should be a cautionary tale anyway. Kinda comes in necessary when your target can see what you can do."