11-17-2017, 08:36 PM
Marcus looked strong and well. Jensen had only seem glimpses of the Consul here and there in the past several weeks. The man was always surrounded by a group of individuals, hanging on his every word, noting his every sentence. The Consul of what could be arguably the most important, and most powerful, new group in the government ever could not have noticed anyone like himself skirking around the Kremlin. It's not that there hadn't been enough to do. On the contrary, Jensen marvelled at the museums, ate meals in rooms where kings once dined, and witnessed heads of state come and go. The day the Americans arrived, though, he made sure to stay in his bedroom. His southern drawl stood out like a flash of light in the middle of a dark country road. He wouldn't risk anyone asking questions of his presence, even by random chance.
He made phone calls. He read up on current events, even flipped through the pages of a book he'd downloaded a year ago. He caught up with Doulou, the benefactor to his life here in Moscow. He tried to call Jon Little Bird, but there was no answer, or perhaps calling the American lawyer was blocked by CCD surveillance.
One day he walked along the walls of the Kremlin's red brick fortress, imagining what it had been like to stand upon their pillars during the height of World War II. He had only seen the Ascendancy once as well, and from an even greater distance than he observed Marcus' passage. He was on the news, though, appearing as strong and healthy as Marcus did before him. It was truly remarkable.
To share that remarkable thing with someone else, though? Jensen shifted in his seat uneasily. Whatever it was that he did, he had no idea how to even go about teaching someone else. Marcus asked once, Jensen recalled to his shame, but he'd never even tried to teach the other man.
He nodded about the explanation of his extended stay. He'd be lying if he didn't expect something like that to happen. Jensen shuddered to imagine what would happen if the Ascendancy died. Another uncomfortable shifting in his seat came about when Marcus mentioned the ministry. Returning to faith, to the pulpit, and to the arms of a thousand people was exactly what he wanted to avoid. He knew what the presence of a healer would do to the weak and weary. He would become the very thing he wanted to avoid, must avoid. Yet neither did he want to deny someone the chance for health and vitality simply because of his fears.
But Marcus had more news. He could leave the Kremlin? He perked up. "Thank you so much, Consul."
There was a trade-off, though. He had to train others. "I'm afraid I have no idea how to teach anyone else, but I am willing to try."
His smile was weak, but not insincere. "Just tell me where to go and when, and I will be there. And if anyone needs my help, please relay that too. I am glad you're doing well."
He made phone calls. He read up on current events, even flipped through the pages of a book he'd downloaded a year ago. He caught up with Doulou, the benefactor to his life here in Moscow. He tried to call Jon Little Bird, but there was no answer, or perhaps calling the American lawyer was blocked by CCD surveillance.
One day he walked along the walls of the Kremlin's red brick fortress, imagining what it had been like to stand upon their pillars during the height of World War II. He had only seen the Ascendancy once as well, and from an even greater distance than he observed Marcus' passage. He was on the news, though, appearing as strong and healthy as Marcus did before him. It was truly remarkable.
To share that remarkable thing with someone else, though? Jensen shifted in his seat uneasily. Whatever it was that he did, he had no idea how to even go about teaching someone else. Marcus asked once, Jensen recalled to his shame, but he'd never even tried to teach the other man.
He nodded about the explanation of his extended stay. He'd be lying if he didn't expect something like that to happen. Jensen shuddered to imagine what would happen if the Ascendancy died. Another uncomfortable shifting in his seat came about when Marcus mentioned the ministry. Returning to faith, to the pulpit, and to the arms of a thousand people was exactly what he wanted to avoid. He knew what the presence of a healer would do to the weak and weary. He would become the very thing he wanted to avoid, must avoid. Yet neither did he want to deny someone the chance for health and vitality simply because of his fears.
But Marcus had more news. He could leave the Kremlin? He perked up. "Thank you so much, Consul."
There was a trade-off, though. He had to train others. "I'm afraid I have no idea how to teach anyone else, but I am willing to try."
His smile was weak, but not insincere. "Just tell me where to go and when, and I will be there. And if anyone needs my help, please relay that too. I am glad you're doing well."