09-19-2018, 12:12 AM
Boda lifted a wrinkled, bony hand and moments later staff placed sparkling rocks glasses in theirs. Jaxen swirled the icy liquid and greedily drank. It was only heartbeats until people surrounded them.
“To Boda,” he raised the glass, others joining with theirs. The old man guffawed, but he was soon swallowed up by his own circle. The old fart was never short on fawning fans, who traced his days to the European discos of the 1990s when the pride movement was in its infancy.
Meanwhile, Jaxen was content to arm himself with a second glass, one he savored this time. It would take probably 20 such glasses to get him drunk, and then, the only one who would be able to tell would be his mother. Thankfully, Irina Marveet was far from here tonight. The news of Jaxen’s spectacle and the blight upon his father’s ambitions would come to Scion’s attention any time soon. It was entirely plausible that Scion might kill him before Ascendancy would. Jaxen wasn’t exactly worried, though.
A woman with flaming red hair was on his arm soon afterward, rubbing her palm up and down. His grin quirked. A blonde on the other side verged her way nearer as well. Jaxen was all theirs. Meanwhile, the stabbing voice of an American accent edged its way to his hearing. He beamed at the compliment, “Oh? Do you have a suggestion on who to skewer next?”
It was about then that another drink was placed into his possession. The third of the night, complements of one whom was pointed out to him. A genuine Rockstar was in their midst, Jaxen lifted the glass in a silent toast toward Methos, only to realize that they were graced by the presence of not one, but two rockstars.
Now this was interesting.
Red-head on one arm, blonde on the other, he moved to the center of the room, gesturing at their two celebrities. They had to be competitors.
His voice raised like the pounding of a staff upon marble, “Have you ever seen dueling pianos?” He laughed. Boda and the others slowly fell quieter.
“How about dueling rock stars? Shall we? Loser sings an ode to the winner?”
“To Boda,” he raised the glass, others joining with theirs. The old man guffawed, but he was soon swallowed up by his own circle. The old fart was never short on fawning fans, who traced his days to the European discos of the 1990s when the pride movement was in its infancy.
Meanwhile, Jaxen was content to arm himself with a second glass, one he savored this time. It would take probably 20 such glasses to get him drunk, and then, the only one who would be able to tell would be his mother. Thankfully, Irina Marveet was far from here tonight. The news of Jaxen’s spectacle and the blight upon his father’s ambitions would come to Scion’s attention any time soon. It was entirely plausible that Scion might kill him before Ascendancy would. Jaxen wasn’t exactly worried, though.
A woman with flaming red hair was on his arm soon afterward, rubbing her palm up and down. His grin quirked. A blonde on the other side verged her way nearer as well. Jaxen was all theirs. Meanwhile, the stabbing voice of an American accent edged its way to his hearing. He beamed at the compliment, “Oh? Do you have a suggestion on who to skewer next?”
It was about then that another drink was placed into his possession. The third of the night, complements of one whom was pointed out to him. A genuine Rockstar was in their midst, Jaxen lifted the glass in a silent toast toward Methos, only to realize that they were graced by the presence of not one, but two rockstars.
Now this was interesting.
Red-head on one arm, blonde on the other, he moved to the center of the room, gesturing at their two celebrities. They had to be competitors.
His voice raised like the pounding of a staff upon marble, “Have you ever seen dueling pianos?” He laughed. Boda and the others slowly fell quieter.
“How about dueling rock stars? Shall we? Loser sings an ode to the winner?”