06-03-2018, 09:09 PM
Jaxen surveyed the scene like a lion padding about, deciding which morsel would be the choicest meal. From what he gathered, Oriena should be able to sense any other woman using the Ancient Power, whereas himself, only the men. And there were traces of it everywhere. Echoes of a ghost in passing. Certainly, the loudest, most ominous of those echoes was the curtain of smoke itself. Jaxen openly studied its making, but found no hint by which he could duplicate it. Cloaking oneself in darkness could have its uses. Hidden from detection was a neat trick; although the base of his brain was tickled by an idea. Walking along the street centered in a cube of black smoke, while hiding himself, was not exactly the most stealthy mode of transportation. He needed to be wreathed in something similar, maybe a million mirrors that reflected the light back to the outsider. It would take some tinkering, but the seed was planted.
Oriena could likewise suggest an interesting target. Surely there was at least one woman of the Ancients in the room? She kept quiet, glint smoldering in her gaze, and suggested none. So maybe not.
He tilted a Baccarat-designed glass to his lips, savoring the cristal within. Chardonnay, complex, crisp. Probably $3500 a bottle. Unless purchasing special edition, diamond-studded bottles, of which none were on display, then the vintage originally created for Tsar Alexander II was a good choice by the Kremlin. Expensive, tasty, and rich. Alexander smirked, and exchanged the half-sipped glass back to a tray for a fresh one just for the hell of it. The server looked at him quizzically, but Jaxen smirked and went about his way.
He was vaguely aware that they seemed to have lost Scion and the girlfriend, although a quick sweep of the nearest people told him they were not far. He locked eyes on a dark-skinned, exotic temptress, and memories of warmth, entanglement, and mischief flooded the back of his brain. A nod of his head was returned by a glare. He hummed an amused laugh, glanced at Oriena and carried on.
They made the circle when the fuel of ancient power flooded the air. Jaxen immediately jerked his face toward the front of the grand hall as a grouping of some sort of uniformed men splintered into pairs. "They're all using it,"
he whispered at Oriena, eyes narrowed curiously.
Oriena could likewise suggest an interesting target. Surely there was at least one woman of the Ancients in the room? She kept quiet, glint smoldering in her gaze, and suggested none. So maybe not.
He tilted a Baccarat-designed glass to his lips, savoring the cristal within. Chardonnay, complex, crisp. Probably $3500 a bottle. Unless purchasing special edition, diamond-studded bottles, of which none were on display, then the vintage originally created for Tsar Alexander II was a good choice by the Kremlin. Expensive, tasty, and rich. Alexander smirked, and exchanged the half-sipped glass back to a tray for a fresh one just for the hell of it. The server looked at him quizzically, but Jaxen smirked and went about his way.
He was vaguely aware that they seemed to have lost Scion and the girlfriend, although a quick sweep of the nearest people told him they were not far. He locked eyes on a dark-skinned, exotic temptress, and memories of warmth, entanglement, and mischief flooded the back of his brain. A nod of his head was returned by a glare. He hummed an amused laugh, glanced at Oriena and carried on.
They made the circle when the fuel of ancient power flooded the air. Jaxen immediately jerked his face toward the front of the grand hall as a grouping of some sort of uniformed men splintered into pairs. "They're all using it,"
he whispered at Oriena, eyes narrowed curiously.