A Blind Eye

[Oriena]

Oriena wasn’t entirely bored, but neither was she invested in the social scenery. Her reputation did not hang in the balance of a well-timed smile or the coy curve of lashes; she did not seek to impress the elite in all their golden glory, nor ingratiate herself to the sparkle of wealth and power. She could play the game - as and when it pleased her to do so - but games needed stakes and winnings, and these people had nothing she wanted. Had she been so inclined, even the promise of a decent fuck would not have stopped her walking out the door to find entertainment more aligned to her taste; but, although she was not drawn to the opulent glamour, she was not actively repelled either. Now that she was here, she was content - if not exactly enthused - to stay at the bar.

Her air of solitude was wrapped in dismissive confidence; Ori was comfortable with her own company - fuck, in most cases it was preferable - and she barely offered any indication of notice when Jaxen fluttered off to mingle. “Date” or not she was no jewel to parade on a man’s arm, and she did not require him to fawn at her side like she was fragile as glass – or, worse, like she was too precious to leave unattended. His absence made little impression. The alcohol slipped down cold and numb, and the room played out its habitual dance under her detached gaze. From time to time Jaxen caught her eye, and eventually she indulged his showmanship with a captive audience of one. Whatever her reaction to his brand of entertainment lay muted in the heat of her gaze, but she did not turn away from the chaos.

Her attention finally cut cold when wind whipped through the guests with enough force to send people staggering. She felt nothing, but after the evening’s revelations she hardly needed the explanation Jaxen returned to so fervently offer. His eyes were wild with a light she’d usually have found intoxicating; offer Ori a hand into the maelstrom, and she was a whole-hearted accomplice to the chaotic unknown. A sly smile hitched the corner of her lips, but Cara’s warnings left their mark. Memories thumped a dull parade of caution: the sensation of delicate finger-bones crunching underfoot. The stench of burning flesh. It sobered her recklessness, casting Jaxen in shades of naivety rather than thrill. Her smile was not complicit; it was cold.

A display like that drew eyes, not all of them friendly.

Jaxen was intent on dragging her to its epicentre, and the last thing she wanted was the possibility of scrutiny by association. Ori considered, then, that his fear of snakes might be entirely literal; that he knew of no reason to practice care. Recognition of foolishness did not temper her with restraint, though neither did she feel any debt of protection towards a man who was kin. Kin of a sort anyhow. Jaxen would learn his lessons or he wouldn’t; Ori had no intention of getting caught in the crossfire. But she would watch how things unfolded, and she didn’t resist the hand that pulled her onward.

One of the guys, gaunt-faced and scowling, pushed his way out as they approached, like he were scalded by the tail end of an argument. Or a lost battle. A glaze blanketed his anger, severing reason from control and leaving wild volatility to flail unchecked at the apparent defeat. The familiar tells of addiction sunk his eyes; he had even less right to be here than she did, and someone had now loosed him like a stray arrow into the midst of the nouveau riche. Faint amusement trailed his path; she was almost inclined to follow the destruction, but there were other reasons to stay. Fear had darkened Jaxen’s face moments before, and the brief weakness ignited a cruel curiosity. When her gaze returned to what remained of the small gathering, however, it was neither Jaxen nor the object of his fear that fell into focus.

The hunger of burnished eyes drew her attention.

Their owner was primal in a way that didn’t fit this house of painted faces and glass masks. Savagery scored the most visceral of emotion across his face, but it was his eyes that made him seem unnatural. Animal eyes, set into the face of a man. She might have ignored his licentious stare altogether but for the casualness of the confidence that accompanied it; for that he at least earned her acknowledgement. Neither disdain nor invitation stirred in response to the elemental heat of him, but challenge rolled off her in waves as he stepped in close. She was not an object he could claim, though he could try. The burn of those yellow eyes might as well have been the sun trying to heat the cool surface of the moon, but in the darkness she offered the hint of a smile. He could try.

As the heat of his brush against her arm retreated, she joined the final remains of the group that had dispersed like seeds upon Jaxen’s arrival. Those left did not look wholly enamoured of his company, though he wasn’t the only one to earn the echo of derision. Despite the initial dismissal, a vibration of harmony sang from the woman; the only of the gathering she could put a name to, other than the name Jaxen had put to White. It was a rare recognition, worthy of pause, but it was the way she sank into her companion that sharpened the edge of a cool smile from Ori’s lips. Spectra Lin was a woman to sear jealousy into the hearts of other women, and it explained the unusual cluster of men drawn like filaments to a magnet, but was she really so fucking meek?

Both seemed eager to take their leave; how fucking disappointing. A low hum of laughter left Ori’s throat, gaze still on Spectra, senses still exploring the nuances of affinity she’d barely felt since Cara. How many of us are there? Something like exhilaration fluttered in her stomach - not for the camaraderie, but for the change it heralded. As the Sickness budded and spread and bloomed. All these souls nestled safe in their towers of wealth were not as secure as they thought. “Well, this is a pleasant reunion.”
The mockery was evident, laced with amusement. Her attention finally turned to the man who’d clouded Jaxen’s arrogance with fear, not quite sure whether she intended to entreat as enemy or ally. “So what did he steal from you?”