Bode, Interrupted

[Nesrin Aziz]

For a moment he seemed angry. Nesrin didn’t take it personally. She was pressing buttons to watch his reactions after all, intending to work out exactly the best way to exploit this opportunity for the most gain, and he was already more than half way where she wanted him despite the constant flicker of irritation pinching his expressions. If she found his changeable nature or the more visible signs of his parasitic freeloader a concern she did not show it, beyond that her attention still did not waver from him.

An openly secretive smile flickered as his tone warred judgement against curiosity. It wasn’t like she’d had options after the auction had gone down, but since he didn’t actually ask her why she’d handed it over to them she didn’t volunteer to fill in the details, let alone defend against his mockery. Whether she would have told the truth was debatable anyway … well, okay, that was untrue. She would present a pretty string of lies for him to pick through, but sometimes a lie could be woven with something genuine even if the words themselves were all obfuscation, so he might have gleaned something. A better question to ask was why they had wanted the key in the first place, esoteric black market bauble that it was, and that was something she didn’t have an answer to either. But Jaxen was smart; he’d wonder eventually.

“Nutjobs who think we all ought to be worshipping a “living god” – and deal in a secret sideline of black market trinkets? Aren’t you even a little bit curious to know what they’re hiding up their skirts? I just want a peek at what none of us mere mortals are ever supposed to see. That’s all.” She drew a cross against her heart, a pretty promise of innocence, but even in Kallisti’s sultry lighting her eyes were bright with mischievous mistruth. A shine of lure, not lies. Her conversation with the Archivist had left her quietly hungry for the sorts of answers Brandon had made no effort to give her himself. Lucien had clearly intended to entice her in, and since she had a fair idea of why he dangled the carrot, it must mean the Brotherhood knew something worth knowing. But she didn’t yet know what she’d do with whatever she uncovered. She oscillated freely between a genuine curiosity to know more, and petty notions of vengeance for the scorn of Brandon’s silence.

Playing along with the Brotherhood’s designs was the most obvious way to get what she wanted of course, but it meant playing the long game. The invitation was already there, and she had plenty of experience pretending at whole-hearted devotion. Helpfully, fanatics were usually consummate artists; they readily saw what they wished to shape in those around them, and trust could be cultivated just as soon as you knew what that desired shape looked like. But it was also time consuming, especially when there was another way – one that came without the strings of another cult to answer to. She’d already begun exploring the Sanctuary in the dreaming place, scoping the layout and assessing her options. Only there was a limit to what she could unearth in a world that constantly fluxed and flickered around her. And it still didn’t get her in.

So Jaxen, ah Jaxen, in all his pouting, irritated, Emissary-incentivised glory, proved to be utter serendipity.

With one little utterance of intrigue, he became the brilliant promise of a skilled conspirator and, as it happened, also the perfect standby distraction to be chucked to the wolves at just the right moment – if it came to it. It was only the journey they’d share and not the goal after all, for ultimately it didn’t matter to her if he succeeded or failed in retrieving the key, just so long as he got her where she wanted to be. Not that she was careless with good allies, and favours were a decent currency to horde when they didn’t inconvenience her to give. Especially with a name as notorious as Voxel’s. But he’d yet to prove his worth to her, and he still had that pesky little m’Antinomian problem, so until then she’d play all sides.

“You get us in, I show you where to look – that’s the bargain,” she said. Purposefully loose terms, with plenty of room for the betrayal he’d joked about if things went sour. Clearly she wasn’t worried about it, though. She watched his expression with interest; the little tugs of intrigue, fascination, and a certain amount of recoil. Better than indifference; she could work with this. It might even be fun. “But you should know I’m always open to renegotiation. If, say, once we’re in the thick of it, you decide you need more from me. Or, I want more from you.” Her eyes roamed him up and down as she spoke the last, and she grinned, all devilish wile and flirtation for the gift landed in her lap. Her pulse was thrumming, but it was no longer wariness. He might have been the one who commanded her to sit, and she obediently had, but she didn’t seem to have any problem sweeping the control back to her own side the moment she spied the opportunity.

She winked at him as she slid to her feet, finally sparing a brief glance at the bar before she circled back around behind his seat. She rested her arms, leaned close enough for intimacy without touch. She couldn’t actually remember if that was a Kallisti rule meant for her or for him, but it served her purpose. For more reasons than one. Because the thrill was beginning to warm up her blood, and maybe she actually wanted to touch him then. Tonight she’d have to get her kicks elsewhere though, so the only sweetness she offered was a whisper. “I’ve heard enough stories – this ought to be easy for you, especially given your current… motivation.” Her gaze lidded briefly with scorn, and she laughed a little at his predicament, but there was something else in the invitation too, unspoken because it had to be. The Emissary was something alien. From her brief interaction she didn’t think it really understood humans beyond whatever transaction it used to gain its worship – if it did, she probably wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place – so it was unlikely to recognise the softer subtext, or what she was offering adjacent. Jaxen’s motivation appeared to be a boot to the throat after all, and that was only ever fun for the one wearing the boot. Nesrin had never specified which god she was prepared to fuck over. Ultimately Voxel was worth the most to her if he was free, and while she’d take what she could get, Nesrin was nothing if not ambitious. If there was a way to help him shake the parasite and win some points in his good graces, she’d take it.

“And time is ticking, no? We’d best not keep it waiting. I guess you know where to find me now, when you're ready.”