02-10-2026, 01:21 AM
(This post was last modified: 02-10-2026, 01:36 AM by Jaxen Marveet.)
She slipped her arm through his in a way that made him glance aside and twitch a surprised smile. He could play the gentleman when he wanted, but it was the least fun role to take on. But he pat her arm with his gloved hand and glanced at her half-spoken suggestion of how they might find alternate entrance.
Then he beamed a big smile and walked straight on. “I prefer to walk in the front door.” He pat her arm reassuringly, waiting patiently until they were finally inside.
This was some scheduled healing ritual day at the Sanctuary, which explained the abundance of people loitering about. First thing he noticed when they came inside was the sudden rush of warmth that made him unzip his coat and shove his hat and gloves in a pocket, in favor of scrubbing his hair free of its woolen dome.
He allowed his eyes to drift over the people around him. There were far too many people for the brotherhood members to tend to one by one. Which worked in his favor and why he chose this time of day. The visitors moved like tranquilized notes in a symphony of collective faith. Jaxen took it in with a slow grin, not because he believed a word of it, but because this was the kind of environment that felt like fun to him.
Without warning, one of the screens flickered with odd visual feedback glitches, and Jaxen felt that tiny spark at the back of his feelings. Curiosity.
A pair of people in oddly fashionable Sanctuary outfits drifted past. One, a blonde man with long bangs, held a tablet scanning faces like an automated usher; the other was a round faced brunette girl that smiled with the hollow warmth of long practice. Jaxen watched them ease past, eyes warm but distant, and an idea formed quickly inside his mind.
He took a breath, deliberately calm, and shifted. Hands slipping just a fraction. Posture relaxed, shoulders easing backward. Like someone not trying to do anything unusual.
He stepped to the side, escaping into a corridor leading off the main chamber where instinct whispered that it led somewhere interesting.
Had he planned it?
Nope. Never.
A stroller passed behind them going the other direction, a mother murmuring to her child about miracles as they drifted by. Ritual drones hovered overhead, capturing riveted faces.
Jaxen walked, not hurried, not slow. Just… normal. Almost boring in his normalcy. A sensor blinked at the end of the corridor suggesting that a higher clearance would be required soon. Instead of freezing, he walked like he belonged.
When a voice crackled quietly from some distant speaker: “Access required. Please stand by.”
Jaxen altered course, angled a few degrees toward the nearest wall, and adjusted how he carried himself.
The Ancient Power faded, and when he turned back, he was younger (with brunette hair and plump lips painted with nice red lipstick) with eyes flicking between screens and real life, and adjusted the strangely fashionable uniform of the Brotherhood draping his significantly altered physique. Beside him, Nes was taller, blonder, and actually quite attractive if he said so himself. He winked one mischievous brown eye and pressed the previously swiped digital badges against the sensor. When the passage requested facial recognition, he (she) happily obliged.
Beyond the automatic door behind him lay layers of quiet spaces rarely seen by public guests: administrative offices, maintenance halls, sealed research archives, and a muted corridor with a faint red symbol blinking on a screen. Somewhere beyond that, he assumed the vaults awaited. If not, well, they would have fun exploring.
Then he beamed a big smile and walked straight on. “I prefer to walk in the front door.” He pat her arm reassuringly, waiting patiently until they were finally inside.
This was some scheduled healing ritual day at the Sanctuary, which explained the abundance of people loitering about. First thing he noticed when they came inside was the sudden rush of warmth that made him unzip his coat and shove his hat and gloves in a pocket, in favor of scrubbing his hair free of its woolen dome.
He allowed his eyes to drift over the people around him. There were far too many people for the brotherhood members to tend to one by one. Which worked in his favor and why he chose this time of day. The visitors moved like tranquilized notes in a symphony of collective faith. Jaxen took it in with a slow grin, not because he believed a word of it, but because this was the kind of environment that felt like fun to him.
Without warning, one of the screens flickered with odd visual feedback glitches, and Jaxen felt that tiny spark at the back of his feelings. Curiosity.
A pair of people in oddly fashionable Sanctuary outfits drifted past. One, a blonde man with long bangs, held a tablet scanning faces like an automated usher; the other was a round faced brunette girl that smiled with the hollow warmth of long practice. Jaxen watched them ease past, eyes warm but distant, and an idea formed quickly inside his mind.
He took a breath, deliberately calm, and shifted. Hands slipping just a fraction. Posture relaxed, shoulders easing backward. Like someone not trying to do anything unusual.
He stepped to the side, escaping into a corridor leading off the main chamber where instinct whispered that it led somewhere interesting.
Had he planned it?
Nope. Never.
A stroller passed behind them going the other direction, a mother murmuring to her child about miracles as they drifted by. Ritual drones hovered overhead, capturing riveted faces.
Jaxen walked, not hurried, not slow. Just… normal. Almost boring in his normalcy. A sensor blinked at the end of the corridor suggesting that a higher clearance would be required soon. Instead of freezing, he walked like he belonged.
When a voice crackled quietly from some distant speaker: “Access required. Please stand by.”
Jaxen altered course, angled a few degrees toward the nearest wall, and adjusted how he carried himself.
The Ancient Power faded, and when he turned back, he was younger (with brunette hair and plump lips painted with nice red lipstick) with eyes flicking between screens and real life, and adjusted the strangely fashionable uniform of the Brotherhood draping his significantly altered physique. Beside him, Nes was taller, blonder, and actually quite attractive if he said so himself. He winked one mischievous brown eye and pressed the previously swiped digital badges against the sensor. When the passage requested facial recognition, he (she) happily obliged.
Beyond the automatic door behind him lay layers of quiet spaces rarely seen by public guests: administrative offices, maintenance halls, sealed research archives, and a muted corridor with a faint red symbol blinking on a screen. Somewhere beyond that, he assumed the vaults awaited. If not, well, they would have fun exploring.