09-03-2018, 01:16 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-03-2018, 01:17 AM by Ascendancy.)
As the Ascendancy's chief of staff, Viktor waited as close to the ballroom as ZARS officers would allow. Given the last time the Ascendancy was attacked left him within an inch of his life, Viktor continuously demanded entrance. The operator dismissed him again. Others were inside. Those that watched were allowed to remain. Any that fled were not allowed readmittance. Viktor was neither. He had been in his office, and not alone either, when practically every safety alarm his office monitored roared to life. By the time he made it back to the ballroom, this same damn operator halted.
When from the ballroom finally spilled Nikolai Brandon, he was entombed in double-rows of human shields. The Nine Dominions encircled him - eight, actually, now that he counted - Custody Security Services made fortified the Nine another layer. Alric trailed along behind like a discarded dog. Viktor fell in alongside. Brandon barely looked up let alone paid attention to his Chief of Staff.
"What the fuck happened in there?" He demanded of Alric. It astounded him to this day that the two were so close. Brandon was never without the German. For a while, Viktor was convinced the two were lovers. The suspicion was wrong. So why keep the man so close? It couldn't be friendship. That was absolutely ridiculous.
Canyons dug into the lines on Alric's face. The man was pretty enough to be a model, in fact, in Viktor's back-checks, it turned out he had been the face of a GSG9 marketing campaign, but the worry lines turned Viktor's stomach. The story that followed stopped him in his tracks.
He put a hand to his forehead. "How the hell are we going to fix this?" A woman's voice answered.
"We're pretty fucked, Viktor." Pessimism was an ugly cowl upon Alexandrova.
They silently looked at one another while the bubble surrounding Ascendancy carried on toward the apartments of the Tsar.
"Leonid went to the office. I'll catch up with you both." Alexandrova hurried on, heels rapidly tapping the marble as she caught up with the bubble.
She wanted to cry out his name to get him to stop, the fool man. Nik rarely lost control of his own impulses, and twice now Alexandrova was a witness to the near-miss of fate, so to see him so shattered of composure, only she knew the depths of his vulnerability. There was little understanding of what happened despite the accounts of an apparent ghost.
Rather than call something so informal as Nik, Alexandrova lifted her voice high. "Ascendancy!"
They paused. A look and men of power stepped aside. He was veiled as though the opacity of the spectre still clung to him. The passion and strength she normally saw etched into his expression were faded, but like the foundations of the world, not fully eroded. He was dazed. In shock. As any man deserved to be. If not for his countenance and steadfastness, other men would crumble.
She touched a smear of blood on his shirt. It wasn't his own, thank God. She needed to see for herself, and now that she had, she knew there was no damage that rest, sleep and recuperation could not reverse. "I'm glad you're alright," she spoke softly. Long gone were the days when ears did not loom near.
Surrounded by people, but without the power coursing his veins, vacancy threatened to overwhelm. An abstract vacuum had been his life in the weeks following his escape from Bologna and the Dreyken. Sickness besides, young Nikolai wandered in the general direction of east until he was sure of safety. Sure enough of safety, anyway. When he finally stopped running, sanctuary built walls thicker than those of this fortress. Siberia offered peace. The Datsun was amnesty. The fires of the Atharim's attack forged the cracks in those walls to gleaming rock. Nobody saw through them. None.
Except sometimes Alexandrova glimpsed their shadow.
He hated that she saw weakness. Few people in the world had known him as long as she, Leonid and Valentin. He never explained what happened to Garret despite the budding relationship flit between the two young collegians at the time. Would she still look at him with such loyalty and earnestness if she knew the truth?
Weakness flaked and pitted at the walls fresh damage that not even Alexandrova was likely to fix. Her age showed writ in worry despite the lovely dress. He hadn't the chance to tell her tonight, but the gown was not unnoticed. Lines touched her eyes and drew circles around her mouth. He kissed her once in the foolishness of youth and dependency that sometimes made people cling to one another. It was a mistake he never repeated again, but the restraint did nothing to diminish the warmth of a familiar companion.
He nodded solemnly, about to speak something to those effects, when the appearance of an angelic face drew his gaze elsewhere.
For a brief moment he paused on the brink. Never before did he hesitate to seize the power of the gods. He swung from drinking in the relief that was the sight of Evelyn to that of the great door behind him. For the first time in years, he pushed the door open by hand and waited for her to join him.
When from the ballroom finally spilled Nikolai Brandon, he was entombed in double-rows of human shields. The Nine Dominions encircled him - eight, actually, now that he counted - Custody Security Services made fortified the Nine another layer. Alric trailed along behind like a discarded dog. Viktor fell in alongside. Brandon barely looked up let alone paid attention to his Chief of Staff.
"What the fuck happened in there?" He demanded of Alric. It astounded him to this day that the two were so close. Brandon was never without the German. For a while, Viktor was convinced the two were lovers. The suspicion was wrong. So why keep the man so close? It couldn't be friendship. That was absolutely ridiculous.
Canyons dug into the lines on Alric's face. The man was pretty enough to be a model, in fact, in Viktor's back-checks, it turned out he had been the face of a GSG9 marketing campaign, but the worry lines turned Viktor's stomach. The story that followed stopped him in his tracks.
He put a hand to his forehead. "How the hell are we going to fix this?" A woman's voice answered.
"We're pretty fucked, Viktor." Pessimism was an ugly cowl upon Alexandrova.
They silently looked at one another while the bubble surrounding Ascendancy carried on toward the apartments of the Tsar.
"Leonid went to the office. I'll catch up with you both." Alexandrova hurried on, heels rapidly tapping the marble as she caught up with the bubble.
She wanted to cry out his name to get him to stop, the fool man. Nik rarely lost control of his own impulses, and twice now Alexandrova was a witness to the near-miss of fate, so to see him so shattered of composure, only she knew the depths of his vulnerability. There was little understanding of what happened despite the accounts of an apparent ghost.
Rather than call something so informal as Nik, Alexandrova lifted her voice high. "Ascendancy!"
They paused. A look and men of power stepped aside. He was veiled as though the opacity of the spectre still clung to him. The passion and strength she normally saw etched into his expression were faded, but like the foundations of the world, not fully eroded. He was dazed. In shock. As any man deserved to be. If not for his countenance and steadfastness, other men would crumble.
She touched a smear of blood on his shirt. It wasn't his own, thank God. She needed to see for herself, and now that she had, she knew there was no damage that rest, sleep and recuperation could not reverse. "I'm glad you're alright," she spoke softly. Long gone were the days when ears did not loom near.
Surrounded by people, but without the power coursing his veins, vacancy threatened to overwhelm. An abstract vacuum had been his life in the weeks following his escape from Bologna and the Dreyken. Sickness besides, young Nikolai wandered in the general direction of east until he was sure of safety. Sure enough of safety, anyway. When he finally stopped running, sanctuary built walls thicker than those of this fortress. Siberia offered peace. The Datsun was amnesty. The fires of the Atharim's attack forged the cracks in those walls to gleaming rock. Nobody saw through them. None.
Except sometimes Alexandrova glimpsed their shadow.
He hated that she saw weakness. Few people in the world had known him as long as she, Leonid and Valentin. He never explained what happened to Garret despite the budding relationship flit between the two young collegians at the time. Would she still look at him with such loyalty and earnestness if she knew the truth?
Weakness flaked and pitted at the walls fresh damage that not even Alexandrova was likely to fix. Her age showed writ in worry despite the lovely dress. He hadn't the chance to tell her tonight, but the gown was not unnoticed. Lines touched her eyes and drew circles around her mouth. He kissed her once in the foolishness of youth and dependency that sometimes made people cling to one another. It was a mistake he never repeated again, but the restraint did nothing to diminish the warmth of a familiar companion.
He nodded solemnly, about to speak something to those effects, when the appearance of an angelic face drew his gaze elsewhere.
For a brief moment he paused on the brink. Never before did he hesitate to seize the power of the gods. He swung from drinking in the relief that was the sight of Evelyn to that of the great door behind him. For the first time in years, he pushed the door open by hand and waited for her to join him.