09-01-2016, 11:54 AM
What a vixen. Jaxen loved it.
He itched to chase after her, but another succubus was calling. The promise of more fun than sex - or at least tied with it - kept him from following Oriena. Despite her best attempt to distract him.
"Much better. You look normal."
She could never be plain. Even without makeup and a sheet of dark hair framing her face, she was still gorgeous. But trading leather-snugged hips for regular pants, she had a better chance of blending in.
Together, the pair seemed average. If average meant secret cult members, then they should look the part.
He outlined the basics of the plan to her as they left. Although he described the building, he kept its exact location as the Baccarat Mansion close to his chest. He told her about the public level, the kitchens, the back garden and gate. He said there was a private apartment on the uppermost level and a high tech elevator connected the lofts to the depths. The basement was their location, through a regular doorway guarded by muscle and guns. He described cameras and touch pads. He talked about the white room and street-clothes clad men with guns and good aim.
Finally, he told her about the security guard that he met on more than one occasion. He told her to call him John White when the time came. (He looked him up on Pervaya's website). That he was employed by Pervaya, but moonlighted as Atharim.
They took the subway. Atharim probably didn't have towncars. And a few blocks down from Baccarat on Nikolskaya street, they ducked into a bookstore - the same bookstore that Jaxen met Mr. Arrabat and White for the first time. He kept a wary eye out for Red Square Devils patrolling the area. But with the influx of people congregating in the Red Square for demonstrations and protests - something Jaxen had never seen before - they were busy elsewhere and he and Oriena were unnoticed.
He left Oriena to go use the restroom in the back. Inside, he casually flipped on the light. Locked the door. And turned to the flimsy rectangle of a mirror.
He seized the Ancient Power. Clawed at it until he brimmed with furious energy. It stretched his mind, his very body wanted to overflow. He almost laughed like a maniac, but instead willed the power to do his bidding and he began to braid the flows.
His face warped before his very eyes. His chin squared. His eyes deepened and narrowed. His brows filled out. His hairline shifted. His nose moved. His mouth narrowed. His jawline stubbled with the darker shadow of a beard.
Then his shoulders broadened, filling out the slightly oversized suit jacket as it did. His biceps plumped a little. He grew an inch taller, but not used to the difference in his body's girth, he dared not change his physique too much.
Finished, he smiled at the face in the mirror. The only thing he lacked was a zippo and four cigars. He tied off the flows like Manix showed him and released the Ancient Power.
"You're a handsome devil aren't you?"
Jaxen asked of the fake John White in his own voice.
Last, he pulled out the voice strip. The adhesive peeled off the back like a bandaid and he placed the opaque circuitry just out of sight beneath the collar of his buttoned up shirt low on the throat.
"Why yes I am."
A deeper, gruffer voice answered back. It was impossible to perfectly emulate White's voice, but it was passable. Thankfully, White wasn't exactly a social butterfly. He probably grunted more than spoke. Grunts would work if needed. They just needed to get in the library and out again.
At least that was the plan.
A different man left the bathroom than one that entered it. Nobody noticed though.
He went in search of Oriena, expression coy, and while the eyes were different, the same glint of mischief gleamed from within. For now. As soon as they were back on the street, it was back to resting bitch face.
"Let's go catch some snakes."
The fake White told her.
((Ooc: the fake White))
He itched to chase after her, but another succubus was calling. The promise of more fun than sex - or at least tied with it - kept him from following Oriena. Despite her best attempt to distract him.
"Much better. You look normal."
She could never be plain. Even without makeup and a sheet of dark hair framing her face, she was still gorgeous. But trading leather-snugged hips for regular pants, she had a better chance of blending in.
Together, the pair seemed average. If average meant secret cult members, then they should look the part.
He outlined the basics of the plan to her as they left. Although he described the building, he kept its exact location as the Baccarat Mansion close to his chest. He told her about the public level, the kitchens, the back garden and gate. He said there was a private apartment on the uppermost level and a high tech elevator connected the lofts to the depths. The basement was their location, through a regular doorway guarded by muscle and guns. He described cameras and touch pads. He talked about the white room and street-clothes clad men with guns and good aim.
Finally, he told her about the security guard that he met on more than one occasion. He told her to call him John White when the time came. (He looked him up on Pervaya's website). That he was employed by Pervaya, but moonlighted as Atharim.
They took the subway. Atharim probably didn't have towncars. And a few blocks down from Baccarat on Nikolskaya street, they ducked into a bookstore - the same bookstore that Jaxen met Mr. Arrabat and White for the first time. He kept a wary eye out for Red Square Devils patrolling the area. But with the influx of people congregating in the Red Square for demonstrations and protests - something Jaxen had never seen before - they were busy elsewhere and he and Oriena were unnoticed.
He left Oriena to go use the restroom in the back. Inside, he casually flipped on the light. Locked the door. And turned to the flimsy rectangle of a mirror.
He seized the Ancient Power. Clawed at it until he brimmed with furious energy. It stretched his mind, his very body wanted to overflow. He almost laughed like a maniac, but instead willed the power to do his bidding and he began to braid the flows.
His face warped before his very eyes. His chin squared. His eyes deepened and narrowed. His brows filled out. His hairline shifted. His nose moved. His mouth narrowed. His jawline stubbled with the darker shadow of a beard.
Then his shoulders broadened, filling out the slightly oversized suit jacket as it did. His biceps plumped a little. He grew an inch taller, but not used to the difference in his body's girth, he dared not change his physique too much.
Finished, he smiled at the face in the mirror. The only thing he lacked was a zippo and four cigars. He tied off the flows like Manix showed him and released the Ancient Power.
"You're a handsome devil aren't you?"
Jaxen asked of the fake John White in his own voice.
Last, he pulled out the voice strip. The adhesive peeled off the back like a bandaid and he placed the opaque circuitry just out of sight beneath the collar of his buttoned up shirt low on the throat.
"Why yes I am."
A deeper, gruffer voice answered back. It was impossible to perfectly emulate White's voice, but it was passable. Thankfully, White wasn't exactly a social butterfly. He probably grunted more than spoke. Grunts would work if needed. They just needed to get in the library and out again.
At least that was the plan.
A different man left the bathroom than one that entered it. Nobody noticed though.
He went in search of Oriena, expression coy, and while the eyes were different, the same glint of mischief gleamed from within. For now. As soon as they were back on the street, it was back to resting bitch face.
"Let's go catch some snakes."
The fake White told her.
((Ooc: the fake White))