03-07-2014, 08:48 AM
Loksli. The name was familiar. But for the life of him, Jaxen barely recalled why. In fact, while his avatar, Voxel remained impassive, Jaxen was busy searching the headlines for an explanation.
'LOKSLI: THE RUSSIAN ROBIN OF LOSKLEY,'
'STEALS FROM THE RICH; GIVES TO THE POOR?'
'CDPS INVESTIGATES RUSSIAN ROBIN HOOD'
That's right. He remembered hearing about the little vigilante. He never bought it, though. That someone as talented as Loksli was as honest and pious as he claimed. Or.. well, she.
At least Jaxen could respect her for adherence to the charade. He accepted her hand, "A pleasure, madám."
Along with her name appeared an encrypted code that verified the virtual identity. Once safely received, Voxel shared his own. Even if she were with the authorities there was nothing in the revelation not already known by CDPS. Voxel was infamous for shenanigans, primarily associated with real-world thieving with security counter-measures used only for lifting tangible goods: Bank of Zurich, Imperial Palace of Vienna and Tower of London being among his favorites. "Voxel Adams,"
he replied in kind. "May the best man win,"
he said, and in the blink of an eye, disappeared in a scattering of pixels... or voxels... if one were to be technical about it.
Out of the room, Jaxen pulled the glasses from his face and tossed them aside in one smooth motion. His mind was already racing with strategies, but an active imagination rerouted his focus over the same series of ideas.
Loksli's so-called charity explained her interest in Baccarat. The company was of old-world money that stretched back centuries to imperial Europe. Half the goods in the Kremlin's museums were gifts bestowed by the Baccarat jewels to former Tsars. Goods worth salivating over. Imagine sitting in his balcony pool wearing Nicholas II Imperial Crown? In his experience, the taller and more ridiculously ostentatious the headgear, the better.
A livery collar would be a nice addition too, cold and settled flat against his chest, gold links gleaming turqouise in a night-illuminated pool. Problem was, the Imperial Collar displayed Nicholas I personal insignia: the white eagle, though he stole it from the Poles. That'd need pried off. Who the hell wanted to wear another man's insignia? Even if he was a Tsar. Which leads to another incredibly important question: what to replace it with?
Jaxen glanced at the tattoo on his arm. The snake glittered in the streaming light, as though frozen from finally clamping down on his throat. He smiled to himself. Interesting thought. But musings for later.
He clapped his hands together and curled forward. It was time to get busy.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Mar 7 2014, 08:50 AM.
'LOKSLI: THE RUSSIAN ROBIN OF LOSKLEY,'
'STEALS FROM THE RICH; GIVES TO THE POOR?'
'CDPS INVESTIGATES RUSSIAN ROBIN HOOD'
That's right. He remembered hearing about the little vigilante. He never bought it, though. That someone as talented as Loksli was as honest and pious as he claimed. Or.. well, she.
At least Jaxen could respect her for adherence to the charade. He accepted her hand, "A pleasure, madám."
Along with her name appeared an encrypted code that verified the virtual identity. Once safely received, Voxel shared his own. Even if she were with the authorities there was nothing in the revelation not already known by CDPS. Voxel was infamous for shenanigans, primarily associated with real-world thieving with security counter-measures used only for lifting tangible goods: Bank of Zurich, Imperial Palace of Vienna and Tower of London being among his favorites. "Voxel Adams,"
he replied in kind. "May the best man win,"
he said, and in the blink of an eye, disappeared in a scattering of pixels... or voxels... if one were to be technical about it.
Out of the room, Jaxen pulled the glasses from his face and tossed them aside in one smooth motion. His mind was already racing with strategies, but an active imagination rerouted his focus over the same series of ideas.
Loksli's so-called charity explained her interest in Baccarat. The company was of old-world money that stretched back centuries to imperial Europe. Half the goods in the Kremlin's museums were gifts bestowed by the Baccarat jewels to former Tsars. Goods worth salivating over. Imagine sitting in his balcony pool wearing Nicholas II Imperial Crown? In his experience, the taller and more ridiculously ostentatious the headgear, the better.
A livery collar would be a nice addition too, cold and settled flat against his chest, gold links gleaming turqouise in a night-illuminated pool. Problem was, the Imperial Collar displayed Nicholas I personal insignia: the white eagle, though he stole it from the Poles. That'd need pried off. Who the hell wanted to wear another man's insignia? Even if he was a Tsar. Which leads to another incredibly important question: what to replace it with?
Jaxen glanced at the tattoo on his arm. The snake glittered in the streaming light, as though frozen from finally clamping down on his throat. He smiled to himself. Interesting thought. But musings for later.
He clapped his hands together and curled forward. It was time to get busy.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Mar 7 2014, 08:50 AM.