12-22-2013, 09:00 AM
A string dangled in front of a kitten. Jaxen barely contained himself. A new light burned in eyes unblinking, lest the dream be shaken and taken away. Oriena's encouragement was peripheral, though he did enjoy hearing the sound of his own name, but the trigger was pulled the moment realization dawned. He flicked a look at her that said as much, and on his lips drew the smile of challenge accepted. And this will not be the last she begs his name.
Picking was a subtle theft. It required a certain amount of skill, finesse, cleverness and planning. And the patience to carry it out. A man working alone or in a team picking slips of near valueless paper or old coins could earn a decent living by the end of the night. The hierarchy escalated to jewelry, which were easy to transform into hard cash, Wallets that provided identity and account information, or entire purses which were usually more valuable than the entirety of its contents therein. Being relieved of your savings by an anonymous hacker is one thing, but being outwitted mano a mano by a pickpocket in a crowded room was quite another. They were the honorable thieves; admired, even celebrated, as figures of great skills, panache, and good old fashioned enterprise.
Jaxen's own kind had long ago dwindled in their technology-driven world, but serendipity - and his fucking father - shipped an oh-so-young, impressionable, and innocent teenage Jaxen to a corner of the world ripe with opportunity, and Jaxen sunk his teeth in - hooked by the art of The Hook. He'd since transformed into the matador he was today, the star of the show that stepped in only for the kill. And never would he be more challenged than by the bull facing him now.
He drifted from Oriena. He'd prefer to keep her as the spoils of tonight's victory, but in the end, Jaxen would not hesitate sacrificing her company for crossing this headliner off his bucket list. Then again, she had no reason to split. By the look in her eye, she wanted this to happen almost as much as Jaxen.
Jaxen let the currents carry him around the room. Many times his compliance carried him far from the mark, but he needed time to observe and calculate. And decide exactly what it was he was going to pick. For the majority of the time, Ascendancy's attention had been occupied by that pinch-faced kid that he'd seen with White and Spectra. Jaxen had a soft spot for outsiders that stirred the bowl of stars with a sour thumb, but the Ascendancy was hardly known for championing charitable causes, the opposite in fact, so what in this kid held his interest? What game was he playing?
A turn and he came face to face - or face to cleavage - with a baubled necklace nestled across a Tahitian neckline. Of course, it was the necklace that drew Jaxen's study far from her face rather than what bounced beneath - though he wasn't blind - but the reunion of jewels to its earring mates meant the cop had put two and two together. Or else finally felt the weight in his pocket. That meant another complication to consider. He may or may not have pegged Jaxen for the pick, so he needed to get close to the Ascendancy and dodge the cop's suspicion at the same time. A minor detail, but it was the details that made or broke a caper. And it told him a thing or two about the man's nature.
Suddenly, a gruff cough. And a matching grip on his arm broke the trance. Bouncing bauble's manfriend apparently hadn't taken well to Jaxen's familiarizing himself with his date's ... baubles.
Jaxen smirked and shoved the guy's hand off his arm, which now tingled with released bloodflow. "Sorry about that."
He apologized to the guy, careful to not look at his lady friend again - or at least not look while he was looking. "Thought you were someone else."
He winked and slid on out of there.
That was when the driftwood next lodged itself alongside two gentlemen. The first was more gray than not, with fat cheeks and ice-blue eyes. The second was a short man with a shiny forehead and squinting, thoughtful eyes. He edged into their conversation without a second's hesitation. Five minutes later, he walked away with the low-down with the specifics of what had happened. The Ascendancy entered, mingled a few minutes, then ran down by the scrawny man that still was surprisingly, still sucking air, and apparently the Ascendancy's newest girlfriend.
The kid was now the majority topic of conversation. Who was he? Where'd he come from? Why was he not hauled out of the room in handcuffs? And a dozen other questions. But there was one little whisper that Jaxen heard more and more frequently. A moniker associated with the kid: Candyman.
Mockingbird. And now Candyman? What the fuck was with the superhero names? And, more importantly, how did a guy go about getting one?? Actually. That wasn't a bad idea. He'd have to give the idea more thought. Later, though.
Seemed Candyman was so-named for the sweet little candies he delivered. For a hefty price. Well. It explained a thing or two about the kid. Untaxed, and therefore, Illegal. Sweet, little candies. A spike of kinship welled in him. From one enterprising criminal to another. And it finally gave Jaxen a brilliant mark.
He was set to weave his way forward when that familiar tide surged. It broke from the center of his marks. His study of the pair of men, witnessed the kid's demonstration, and his heavy study swung immediately toward Brandon. It was almost impossible to gauge the man's reaction, but the subtle flicker of recognition told Jaxen all he needed to know.
The confirmation flushed Jaxen with epiphanies galore. Each of them couldn't sense their own kind until they actively struck out with the powers. A man like Jaxen, thief and magician, should be careful.
But a man like Jaxen didn't have to be.
The second he turned it on, Jaxen slithered through the crowd slicker than a reptile shedding its skin.
This time, he was face to face with the nameless one, otherwise known as the Ascendancy. Another fitting moniker. And the most original of them all. Jaxen was definitely going to have to work on a comic book name for himself. Surprisingly, Jaxen was the first guy with the balls enough to break the sea wall built up around the Ascendancy. As soon as he did, a flood of bodies followed, and crashed on the Alric, Yuri, Ascendancy trio.
Just in time to catch the tail end of Yuri's question. "Pay unto caesar that which is caesar's."
Jaxen joked, and clapped Yuri a brotherly clap the shoulder. Of course the guy was probably too fucked up to understand the slight about his black market drug ring.
But that didn't mean nobody else didn't get it. Laughs scattered around him. Such as from one New Rich dressed nearly as fashionably as Jaxen himself, and one of the bodies that followed him into no-man's land. Above the nearby man's jacket which happened to be the color of Jaxen's purple loafers was a painfully platinum head of hair and a toothy smile that barked a laugh. The man produced a handful of tarnished CCD dollar coin. Most were out of circulation now, but the stamped outline of Brandon's profile was still clear. The Swede waved them in the air, laughing.
"Your humble plebeian!"
He upturned his palm and silver rained down like glittering drops of dew and crashed to the floor as the Ascendancy's feet.
A perfect hook. Jaxen egged the guy on. He was a premiere face of the auto-industry. "You're a few dollars short, Axel!"
And Jaxen kicked the coins like leaves on short grass. They scattered underfoot. Of course, the swing of a velvet pant leg and wash of coins against heels like hockey pucks over ice drew almost everyone's gaze floorward. Including Yuri's.
That's when Jaxen hand eased into the shadowed confines between the man's torso and his jacket. The slippery feel of a plastic bag was all the confirmation he needed. He timed the pick perfectly. Yuri, drunk on power and acceptance, felt only the brotherly patting of Jaxen's other hand on his shoulder. Jaxen, then, was the new owner of a little bag of blue candy, and he wasn't even tempted to drop one on his tongue for a little test-drive. Even judging by the rave reviews of the party's many clients. No. He had a far better plan for this little baggy.
Now. For the real challenge. Plant the bag on the righteous Nikolai Brandon, and get the cop to arrest him for illegal possession. Nobody was above the law, after all, and a good-natured cop like the one to return a woman her necklace would surely not resist the call of duty.
The charge would never stick, but oh the scandal to follow. It was enough to shiver anyone with excitement, but Jaxen practically salivated over the thought of causing such mischief.
<small>((Yuri moded with permission))</small>
Picking was a subtle theft. It required a certain amount of skill, finesse, cleverness and planning. And the patience to carry it out. A man working alone or in a team picking slips of near valueless paper or old coins could earn a decent living by the end of the night. The hierarchy escalated to jewelry, which were easy to transform into hard cash, Wallets that provided identity and account information, or entire purses which were usually more valuable than the entirety of its contents therein. Being relieved of your savings by an anonymous hacker is one thing, but being outwitted mano a mano by a pickpocket in a crowded room was quite another. They were the honorable thieves; admired, even celebrated, as figures of great skills, panache, and good old fashioned enterprise.
Jaxen's own kind had long ago dwindled in their technology-driven world, but serendipity - and his fucking father - shipped an oh-so-young, impressionable, and innocent teenage Jaxen to a corner of the world ripe with opportunity, and Jaxen sunk his teeth in - hooked by the art of The Hook. He'd since transformed into the matador he was today, the star of the show that stepped in only for the kill. And never would he be more challenged than by the bull facing him now.
He drifted from Oriena. He'd prefer to keep her as the spoils of tonight's victory, but in the end, Jaxen would not hesitate sacrificing her company for crossing this headliner off his bucket list. Then again, she had no reason to split. By the look in her eye, she wanted this to happen almost as much as Jaxen.
Jaxen let the currents carry him around the room. Many times his compliance carried him far from the mark, but he needed time to observe and calculate. And decide exactly what it was he was going to pick. For the majority of the time, Ascendancy's attention had been occupied by that pinch-faced kid that he'd seen with White and Spectra. Jaxen had a soft spot for outsiders that stirred the bowl of stars with a sour thumb, but the Ascendancy was hardly known for championing charitable causes, the opposite in fact, so what in this kid held his interest? What game was he playing?
A turn and he came face to face - or face to cleavage - with a baubled necklace nestled across a Tahitian neckline. Of course, it was the necklace that drew Jaxen's study far from her face rather than what bounced beneath - though he wasn't blind - but the reunion of jewels to its earring mates meant the cop had put two and two together. Or else finally felt the weight in his pocket. That meant another complication to consider. He may or may not have pegged Jaxen for the pick, so he needed to get close to the Ascendancy and dodge the cop's suspicion at the same time. A minor detail, but it was the details that made or broke a caper. And it told him a thing or two about the man's nature.
Suddenly, a gruff cough. And a matching grip on his arm broke the trance. Bouncing bauble's manfriend apparently hadn't taken well to Jaxen's familiarizing himself with his date's ... baubles.
Jaxen smirked and shoved the guy's hand off his arm, which now tingled with released bloodflow. "Sorry about that."
He apologized to the guy, careful to not look at his lady friend again - or at least not look while he was looking. "Thought you were someone else."
He winked and slid on out of there.
That was when the driftwood next lodged itself alongside two gentlemen. The first was more gray than not, with fat cheeks and ice-blue eyes. The second was a short man with a shiny forehead and squinting, thoughtful eyes. He edged into their conversation without a second's hesitation. Five minutes later, he walked away with the low-down with the specifics of what had happened. The Ascendancy entered, mingled a few minutes, then ran down by the scrawny man that still was surprisingly, still sucking air, and apparently the Ascendancy's newest girlfriend.
The kid was now the majority topic of conversation. Who was he? Where'd he come from? Why was he not hauled out of the room in handcuffs? And a dozen other questions. But there was one little whisper that Jaxen heard more and more frequently. A moniker associated with the kid: Candyman.
Mockingbird. And now Candyman? What the fuck was with the superhero names? And, more importantly, how did a guy go about getting one?? Actually. That wasn't a bad idea. He'd have to give the idea more thought. Later, though.
Seemed Candyman was so-named for the sweet little candies he delivered. For a hefty price. Well. It explained a thing or two about the kid. Untaxed, and therefore, Illegal. Sweet, little candies. A spike of kinship welled in him. From one enterprising criminal to another. And it finally gave Jaxen a brilliant mark.
He was set to weave his way forward when that familiar tide surged. It broke from the center of his marks. His study of the pair of men, witnessed the kid's demonstration, and his heavy study swung immediately toward Brandon. It was almost impossible to gauge the man's reaction, but the subtle flicker of recognition told Jaxen all he needed to know.
The confirmation flushed Jaxen with epiphanies galore. Each of them couldn't sense their own kind until they actively struck out with the powers. A man like Jaxen, thief and magician, should be careful.
But a man like Jaxen didn't have to be.
The second he turned it on, Jaxen slithered through the crowd slicker than a reptile shedding its skin.
This time, he was face to face with the nameless one, otherwise known as the Ascendancy. Another fitting moniker. And the most original of them all. Jaxen was definitely going to have to work on a comic book name for himself. Surprisingly, Jaxen was the first guy with the balls enough to break the sea wall built up around the Ascendancy. As soon as he did, a flood of bodies followed, and crashed on the Alric, Yuri, Ascendancy trio.
Just in time to catch the tail end of Yuri's question. "Pay unto caesar that which is caesar's."
Jaxen joked, and clapped Yuri a brotherly clap the shoulder. Of course the guy was probably too fucked up to understand the slight about his black market drug ring.
But that didn't mean nobody else didn't get it. Laughs scattered around him. Such as from one New Rich dressed nearly as fashionably as Jaxen himself, and one of the bodies that followed him into no-man's land. Above the nearby man's jacket which happened to be the color of Jaxen's purple loafers was a painfully platinum head of hair and a toothy smile that barked a laugh. The man produced a handful of tarnished CCD dollar coin. Most were out of circulation now, but the stamped outline of Brandon's profile was still clear. The Swede waved them in the air, laughing.
"Your humble plebeian!"
He upturned his palm and silver rained down like glittering drops of dew and crashed to the floor as the Ascendancy's feet.
A perfect hook. Jaxen egged the guy on. He was a premiere face of the auto-industry. "You're a few dollars short, Axel!"
And Jaxen kicked the coins like leaves on short grass. They scattered underfoot. Of course, the swing of a velvet pant leg and wash of coins against heels like hockey pucks over ice drew almost everyone's gaze floorward. Including Yuri's.
That's when Jaxen hand eased into the shadowed confines between the man's torso and his jacket. The slippery feel of a plastic bag was all the confirmation he needed. He timed the pick perfectly. Yuri, drunk on power and acceptance, felt only the brotherly patting of Jaxen's other hand on his shoulder. Jaxen, then, was the new owner of a little bag of blue candy, and he wasn't even tempted to drop one on his tongue for a little test-drive. Even judging by the rave reviews of the party's many clients. No. He had a far better plan for this little baggy.
Now. For the real challenge. Plant the bag on the righteous Nikolai Brandon, and get the cop to arrest him for illegal possession. Nobody was above the law, after all, and a good-natured cop like the one to return a woman her necklace would surely not resist the call of duty.
The charge would never stick, but oh the scandal to follow. It was enough to shiver anyone with excitement, but Jaxen practically salivated over the thought of causing such mischief.
<small>((Yuri moded with permission))</small>