A Blind Eye

[Oriena]

She watched Jaxen’s expression as he spoke. What he surmised was vastly different from what she felt, but she didn’t think he was lying - couldn’t even think of a reason why he would, other than to be contrary. No, not light. Did he really think she would mistake the two? The power she grasped was gentle, but infinitely formidable; it required submission to calm, to guide, and it felt like euphoria. Try to impose control on that vast, sublime force and instinctively she knew it would crush her. It was none of the violent things he said. And the look on his face as he spoke, like the battle raged even as the words left his lips. Unhidden interest sobered Ori’s expression. He had her full attention, and for a moment the fascination was sincere. What he did, how he did it; she couldn’t feel it or see it, so it stood to reason there would be other disparities. But it all stemmed from the same Sickness. Of that, she was convinced.

The moment faded quickly; her attentiveness sharpened against the insinuation she was wrong. A disparaging smirk turned into a low chuckle. “It’s different. Haven’t you already figured that out?”


Boredom set in swiftly once he’d left. She wasn’t interested in studying her surroundings, nor was she particularly impressed at the abandonment. It had been a fucking long day, and this was not how she’d intended to end it. The party upstairs lacked enticement, all things considered. The monoliths of CCD politics never changed, and she’d never been particularly gratified by her brief stint in its darker shadows. The obscene wealth and casual clash of supremacy froze dissatisfaction in her gut, and shaded by those thoughts the playfulness in her nature became simply callous. The memories still burned; that was half the problem. As if in sympathetic reaction, the power thumped hard in her chest, pounding her ears with the desire to submit. She didn’t.

Oriena made no comment on Jaxen’s outfit change, nor did her expression reveal much when he returned – except perhaps that the decided lack spoke of displeasure at the wait. He offered her a demon’s smile; one she might have appreciated in other circumstances, one that might have alighted devilish kinship in return. Instead the corners of her lips only pricked at the edges, and it was calculation rather than kinship glittering her eyes. She stood, tipped a shoulder in apparently benign acceptance of the challenge, and headed for the door. Denied ownership of a new toy, she was just going to have to find something else to keep herself entertained.