07-21-2014, 05:01 PM
<small>((Continued from You know how we do it))</small>
Marcus awoke at his usual hour. It was a Saturday morning and he had the whole day to himself. As he stretched he felt the delicious soreness in his chest and back from the previous day at the gym. His evening afterward with Elouera had been much more enjoyable than he'd expected. It had surprised him, to be relaxed in the company of an intelligent woman, to actually let himself step back for a moment and let things happen. In truth, he found himself far more taken with her than he expected.
But now, in the cold light of day, Malik didn't like it. Relationships were a weakness he could not afford. And yet...he was going to be here for at least the next three years as a Sigma, rotating out of one Consulate and into another- longer if his plans regarding his apprenticeship to Ascendancy came to fruition. He felt confident that that would work out though. What was happening was the his destiny. But throughout all of that time, he was going to have to build connections and relationships with people as a matter of course. He couldn't keep everyone at arms length or it would be noticed. They could not all be simple pawns like Pyotr was. Nor could they be superiors and officials for him simply to gain favor with.
Marcus smiled at the acceptance of the risk. For some reason, he felt glad that doing so fit in to his plans. It's not rationalization, he told himself. It really is necessary. But any relationships that did form would be on his terms. That was a requirement..
Elouera had teased him a bit about his simple suits. They were well made, to be sure. The clothing allowance the EoA had provided him- not to mention a surprising and sizable annual cash allowance to be used as he needed- ensured that all it was well made. In truth, he favored simplicity and stark solid colors- black, cream, browns, greys and dark purples.. There was something timeless about them. In the years to come, his images in pictures and video would always be dignified.
But still, it wouldn't hurt to get a few suits and other items that he could wear in a more casual setting. A trip to the Imperial Tailors and Clothiers at the GUM would be a good way to spend his Saturday.
He rose and got himself ready. He wore a dark grey wool suit with a black shirt and lavender tie, his Sigma pin brightly prominent on his lapel. Except for at the beginning, he didn't think about using the Force. He'd chosen to obey Ascendancy's request, just as he chose whether he'd obey the protocols at the Consulate. He believed in them. And they would further his aims. And he'd show Ascendancy that he could be trusted.
In a way, he felt curiously free, as if he was at the mercy of the fate. He usually was not one to submit. Sith philosophy demanded that submission was to be rare, that it was their will that shaped the world. And that was something he'd certainly done in his life. He was 23 years old and had reached the Kremlin. Goals and aspirations he'd set from the time he was 15 had repeatedly come to fruition until finally a few days ago, when he had revealed his power to Ascendancy himself, as a man unafraid and ready to learn. Submission had not done that. His own will had brought it about.
And yet he felt free all the same. He was curious as to what fate had in store for him, for the new challenges now that he'd decided to step back and allow things to happen to him.
He made his way out of his apartments and ate breakfast alone before finding an exit onto Red Square. Saint Basil's colorful onion shaped domes dominated, along with the imposing bulk of the CCD Historical Museum. At this early hour, the streets were filled with hundreds of people milling about- tourists, hawkers and vendors, business people, shoppers. police and political officials. The loud cacophony of voices and conveyances filled the air as Marcus walked across the square. Usually he only watched the people to gauge their mood or to think about trends and ways to manipulate them.
Today, though, things were different. He noticed individual faces and found himself wondering at what was going on behind them. A father holding his little son's hand, the child pointing excitedly behind him at a man selling balloons. He watched closely for the tell-tale sign of irritation on the father's face, the sharp looks, the fear in the child's face, the threat of pain at the earliest opportunity. He watched for it. Nothing. He found himself looking wistfully at the pair as they kept walking. Something stirred inside him. Anger. Rage. Jealousy.
Malik felt them slither and feed on each other and they grew. He embraced the storm, letting it pass through him. I will not hide from my emotions. I embrace them. The fire of them burns away weakness, making me stronger. The mantra beat in time with his heart and he saw nothing as he walked until he stood in front of the GUM building. The storm had subsided, leaving the cold empty peace of acceptance. I have been molded by my past to be what I am today. His breath was deep, the chill seeping into his lungs, and he relished it, feathery breath wreathing his face.
He walked inside the building towards the Imperial Tailors, heedless of the immense walls and windowed corridor of ceiling above him. The cold sterility of the architecture held no interest to him today, it's mathematical precision and symmetry not stirring the usual sense of awe. It was subtle beauty he sought today. Buying new clothes would satiate him he hoped.
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Jul 21 2014, 05:17 PM.
Marcus awoke at his usual hour. It was a Saturday morning and he had the whole day to himself. As he stretched he felt the delicious soreness in his chest and back from the previous day at the gym. His evening afterward with Elouera had been much more enjoyable than he'd expected. It had surprised him, to be relaxed in the company of an intelligent woman, to actually let himself step back for a moment and let things happen. In truth, he found himself far more taken with her than he expected.
But now, in the cold light of day, Malik didn't like it. Relationships were a weakness he could not afford. And yet...he was going to be here for at least the next three years as a Sigma, rotating out of one Consulate and into another- longer if his plans regarding his apprenticeship to Ascendancy came to fruition. He felt confident that that would work out though. What was happening was the his destiny. But throughout all of that time, he was going to have to build connections and relationships with people as a matter of course. He couldn't keep everyone at arms length or it would be noticed. They could not all be simple pawns like Pyotr was. Nor could they be superiors and officials for him simply to gain favor with.
Marcus smiled at the acceptance of the risk. For some reason, he felt glad that doing so fit in to his plans. It's not rationalization, he told himself. It really is necessary. But any relationships that did form would be on his terms. That was a requirement..
Elouera had teased him a bit about his simple suits. They were well made, to be sure. The clothing allowance the EoA had provided him- not to mention a surprising and sizable annual cash allowance to be used as he needed- ensured that all it was well made. In truth, he favored simplicity and stark solid colors- black, cream, browns, greys and dark purples.. There was something timeless about them. In the years to come, his images in pictures and video would always be dignified.
But still, it wouldn't hurt to get a few suits and other items that he could wear in a more casual setting. A trip to the Imperial Tailors and Clothiers at the GUM would be a good way to spend his Saturday.
He rose and got himself ready. He wore a dark grey wool suit with a black shirt and lavender tie, his Sigma pin brightly prominent on his lapel. Except for at the beginning, he didn't think about using the Force. He'd chosen to obey Ascendancy's request, just as he chose whether he'd obey the protocols at the Consulate. He believed in them. And they would further his aims. And he'd show Ascendancy that he could be trusted.
In a way, he felt curiously free, as if he was at the mercy of the fate. He usually was not one to submit. Sith philosophy demanded that submission was to be rare, that it was their will that shaped the world. And that was something he'd certainly done in his life. He was 23 years old and had reached the Kremlin. Goals and aspirations he'd set from the time he was 15 had repeatedly come to fruition until finally a few days ago, when he had revealed his power to Ascendancy himself, as a man unafraid and ready to learn. Submission had not done that. His own will had brought it about.
And yet he felt free all the same. He was curious as to what fate had in store for him, for the new challenges now that he'd decided to step back and allow things to happen to him.
He made his way out of his apartments and ate breakfast alone before finding an exit onto Red Square. Saint Basil's colorful onion shaped domes dominated, along with the imposing bulk of the CCD Historical Museum. At this early hour, the streets were filled with hundreds of people milling about- tourists, hawkers and vendors, business people, shoppers. police and political officials. The loud cacophony of voices and conveyances filled the air as Marcus walked across the square. Usually he only watched the people to gauge their mood or to think about trends and ways to manipulate them.
Today, though, things were different. He noticed individual faces and found himself wondering at what was going on behind them. A father holding his little son's hand, the child pointing excitedly behind him at a man selling balloons. He watched closely for the tell-tale sign of irritation on the father's face, the sharp looks, the fear in the child's face, the threat of pain at the earliest opportunity. He watched for it. Nothing. He found himself looking wistfully at the pair as they kept walking. Something stirred inside him. Anger. Rage. Jealousy.
Malik felt them slither and feed on each other and they grew. He embraced the storm, letting it pass through him. I will not hide from my emotions. I embrace them. The fire of them burns away weakness, making me stronger. The mantra beat in time with his heart and he saw nothing as he walked until he stood in front of the GUM building. The storm had subsided, leaving the cold empty peace of acceptance. I have been molded by my past to be what I am today. His breath was deep, the chill seeping into his lungs, and he relished it, feathery breath wreathing his face.
He walked inside the building towards the Imperial Tailors, heedless of the immense walls and windowed corridor of ceiling above him. The cold sterility of the architecture held no interest to him today, it's mathematical precision and symmetry not stirring the usual sense of awe. It was subtle beauty he sought today. Buying new clothes would satiate him he hoped.
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Jul 21 2014, 05:17 PM.