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The City's Dark Jewel
#11
Li smiled with a beam of pride at the compliment. It wasn't the first time a beautiful woman had said such a thing, but probably one who was this dangerous. So it was all that more worth it. "The events of the night might yield such luxuries." There was innuendo in that but also the prospect of actually watching him fight for real. He was only here for the monsters. They had to keep them somewhere.

Li understood the fustration. Often times he was kept from the more dangerous stunts he was capable of doing but he was the star. He was certain this one was not in quite such a luxurious line of work. Violence was more her style. "Well at least it yielded one good thing out of your denial of continuation. I get the pleasure of your company." He gave her a bright smile and continued. "More of a hobby. It doesn't pay well, but it gets the same action as the ring though it's a lot harder to find. The entertainment value tonight is low key. They must be saving their highlights for another night. That is why I came. Saw one get loose the last time I was here. They didn't take it home. I was hoping to figure out where it went."
“What you must do," said Monkey, "is lure the monster from its hiding place, but be certain it is a fight you can survive.” 
― Wu Cheng'en, Monkey: The Journey to the West

biography


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#12
The light of that smile was an easy victory, and a pleasant one. He was too sweet for this place.

"Surely not everything that goes bump in the night is so bad." She tipped her shoulder, perhaps including herself among the number. She knew what Almaz did, but held no real opinion on it. Plenty of creatures were drawn by the smell, the feel, the taste of the violence. If the club chose to tether them for their own ends, at least they were not left to prey wild on weaker souls. The men and women here (on the whole) fought of their own volition. And none here were innocent.

If one of the creatures had actually broken loose, that was a gross breach of security, but not something she considered her problem. It was ignoble, but noble didn't interest Nhysa; certainly not in a place like this.

"A hobby that includes hunting down channelers? Not that you'd be wise to admit it considering Ascendancy's decree." Unless he'd claimed amnesty; she wasn't privy to that kind of information unless directly involved, and at the moment she really was supposed to be on leave. There wasn't a threat in her tone, merely curiosity; at least for now.
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#13
[[continued from Hamartia]]

This morning she let Dezhda nurse her wounds and fuss a mother's due; she let her curse and wail over the brutal injuries to her child, rubbing the rosary between her fingers, begging to a false god. When the sense of loss turned to lead in Oriena's stomach, poisoning bile from her throat, her mother smoothed her hair and whispered softly. 

But there was only so much talk of angels and house spirits Ori could weather. 

By early afternoon she made her excuses. The club was dark and empty, even Carmen absent on whatever distractions filled her days beyond Kallisti's smoke and glamour. As such she was surprised to find Rafael of all fucking people tucked in the room upstairs with Kasun. A mildly curious gaze took in his mangled throat; it was somehow uglier than she remembered it. She didn't bother to enquire over what they were doing, though she did notice the book on her barman's lap. Rafael was far too fucking soft.

Her wolf pricked curious ears at her entrance, though there was wariness strung in his gold gaze too. As well there should be, all things given. She stood silhouetted in the doorway, hand on hip. Crooked a finger.

"Get up, we're going out."

Her ultimatum nights previous had been both brutal and plain: "You attack one of mine again, and I won't kill you Kas. I'll cut you loose in the darkest part of the underground and let the worms eat away at that tiny shred of humanity I gave you. No family. No pack. Just you and the dark."

He looked vaguely terrified at the time. She thought he might piss himself now.

Thus as the sun died in the sky, they found themselves in the embrace of the Almaz. She'd never planned to bring him back here. Not that she'd liberated him for altruistic reasons, but she didn't want him mindless. There were other places she could have taken him to run off energy, kinder places to balm what clearly amounted to a broken soul. But she'd taught harder lessons than flinging a man off a cliff to see if he would fly.

Though there was also something else she sought from tonight. Of course.

She watched him from across the table. Kas was a far cry from the dirty, matted creature she'd pulled into Kallisti's fickle care. Dark hair fell clean away from his face, jaw shaven, deep bronze skin disappearing into a crisp collar, paled by the hint of white scars. The clothes sat a little uncomfortably (and she doubted he'd kept the shoes on his feet) but he looked like a man.

Until you absorbed the gold eyes. The tremoring edge of restlessness in territory no longer his own. He listened intently. His nostrils flexed when servers passed behind him, flinching a little away like a dog abused by his master.

The pressure was designed. The distractions, the smells, the noises. The depravity.

Clearly he was aware, for he poured great concentration into simply watching her in turn.

The fabric that curled around her neck like a choke. The sweep of her shoulders bare. The hem of the deep scarlet dress obscured the cuts on her knees - though the crusted wounds on her arms were not hidden where they stretched out to clasp her hands at her knee. Legs crossed, his gaze followed the stem of her legs. Molten blades followed the wicked slash of the heels. Just decoration, of course; Almaz didn't allow weapons into its depths. At least the kind held in a hand. But it amused her all the same that security must bow to check. 

His knee began to bounce.
  
A smile curled Ori's lips, though she said nothing. While he acclimated, her gaze moved to take in the nearest screen.
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#14
There was more meaning in that one sentence than she had said. "Not everything. Heard rumor that some of them can pretend to be fully human. Live normal productive lives. I've seen a pair of golden eyes productive in the movies. Other's are just fairtales. I've never seen them." But then if they are living with in the world most Rougs weren't quite so human. Eating flesh was going to be noticed. Wolfkin, Sentient, there were others who were mostly human. Like the gods.

And her next question struck home more so than the one before. She knew what he was in a terrifying moment Li thought about leaving. The last thing he wanted was trouble. This woman was all of that rolled into one and if he said yes he could be dead, or no, either answer could result in the same thing. But honesty and lies could be one and the same. Balance. Li gave her another bright smile. "It's fine in theory. Until you find yourself between a rock and a hard place. Now mind, I've never hunted such souls. Monsters are my bread and butter - sick kids not so much. And then you find the tides have turned and you are faced with a decision. Follow the dogmatic practices of such a following... ending ones own life. Or you live and learn and become what you hate most. One of the monsters."
“What you must do," said Monkey, "is lure the monster from its hiding place, but be certain it is a fight you can survive.” 
― Wu Cheng'en, Monkey: The Journey to the West

biography


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#15
Nhysa folded her arms on the table, leaned it. Interest captured the darkness of her eyes for the turn of the conversation. Knowing Almaz plunged one hand deep into the shadows was one thing; recognising that those shadows stretched beyond its depraved games was another. Most people thought the creatures were simply for show. Men jacked up on drugs, enhanced by synthetics. But he knew better.

He wore an affable mask. They might have been talking about the weather.

"Even non-human fairy-tales deserve to live. Some of them anyway." It was a statement rather than a challenge, softened by a glitter of amusement. There wasn't enough darkness for her to be aware of the thing that followed her, though she doubted it ever went very far. But it had never hurt her, and it was nowhere close to human. Visitors like that had long since become a mundane part of her life. It had never occurred to her that their existence was something worthy of punishment. "So how do you draw the line?"

She was only half-teasing. He'd gone a little still the moment before, like the question cut a little too hard on bone; perhaps he'd spring away now, back into the light places be belonged. It made her curious. Sometimes Nhysa's work involved more clandestine skills, and sometimes it was simply that she enjoyed the art of getting to know someone. Whether she then took that life from them was immaterial. Though this was not a hunt, and he was not a mark.

He admitted nothing and everything. Something of the confession caught her like a moth to flame; not what he was, but the conflict inherent in what he had become. That word. Monster. Her head tilted, dark hair pooling in the crook of her arm. She was glad in a way, though even had her suspicions darkened it was unlikely she'd have acted -- unless provoked anyway. Nhysa smiled, shifted close enough to whisper below the thump of the music and the sound of the fighting.

"Hypothetically speaking, you made the right decision." She let the truth go, choosing not to call attention to it, though she seemed no less amused. Her palm upturned on the table. "I could have asked that question another way." She watched him still, curious, as she pulled at the shadows, let them coalesce into something tangible. It almost looked like smoke, if smoke could be such a luxurious colour. Then her hand closed. The power left her veins.
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#16
Li had to disagree with the fairy tales deserving to live. The monster created by the gods were meant to be used against one another, not on man kind, but the remnants of the remnants fought each other. It was how it had always been. It was hard to be Atharim and not be a hypocrite when you were one of the monsters but Li didn't believe in ending his own life either. And neither did the catholic church in which all things were bound. The one sin you cannot forgive. Not that he was catholic - but such was the way of the Atharim.

She laid her palm on the table between them and dark billowing smoke pulled into her hand and Li wondered exactly what had happened. She proclaimed herself a god even after he'd almost admitted to being one that hunts them down. But in the same span she had agreed with his own decision. He was a god himself. Li smirked and placed his hand quickly on top of hers to hid any potential viewing of anyone else.

He couldn't call it to beg and plead quickly but he did manage to meditate for a moment while his hand rested on her hand and he called upon the light to give him the power. It was an unknown force Li didn't have the skills to describe it. He flicked a stray hair back from her cheek with a smile and let the power go. Confirmation or not didn't matter, as he removed his hand and took a sip of his drink. "Seems we have something more in common than the luxuries afford of the fighting pit."

A woman - no not any woman - the woman who had taken the golden eyed man made her way seductively through the room. But it wasn't to her that his eye was drawn. The beast followed cowed behind her. A puppy to be pet. The golden glint from his eyes made Li growl softly. But now was not the time. There were too many people, and he'd just said not all creatures deserved to die... was this one of those cases. Li turned to his companion with a smile. Ignoring his mark would be hard but he had a pretty face to distract him. "Li Tan. Our paths cross often enough I suppose I should introduce myself." Though it was unlikely she didn't know she'd already mentioned his lack of filming... which only brought up his current dire prospects. Another reason to be in the pits of hell.
“What you must do," said Monkey, "is lure the monster from its hiding place, but be certain it is a fight you can survive.” 
― Wu Cheng'en, Monkey: The Journey to the West

biography


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#17
The glide of white orbs drifted to the side. The milky pale eye unfocused disturbingly, the other glossed as Ryker’s attention shifted between the senses. The bartender’s chest hovered in front of him. Ryker’s sickly eyes rolled up. “What?”

The guy nodded toward the glass dripping condensation. “More water, sir?” 

Ryker’s stare was flat. “I’ll let you know what I want when I want it.” The bartender shrugged, skin thickened by years catering to egotistical clientele. The bow of the man’s head settled approvingly with Ryker. The sign of appropriate manners doled out to those to whom it was due. A nice change of pace for once.

It was sounds of more salivating conversation nearby that distracted from Ivan’s arrival. He didn’t outright ignore the man, but it was obvious the eavesdropping was a distraction. He leaned close to the cop, voice conspiratorially low, “always gather information. Everything can be used.” 

The haunted smile of a professional manipulator bloomed reassuringly. Monsters were of sudden interest to Ryker. Ivan was absent for the main event of the ball. Their innate, philosophical right to life was a conversation he gave two shits about, though. How to kill the things that wanted to kill him, slightly more important. How to use this knowledge to leverage his own ends? Imperative.

He snuffed dismissively and returned a greater proportion of his attention to Ivan.
“Well, you look like shit. What happened to you after—?” The question trailed to rhetorical silence and perhaps a slim jab of defeat highlighted. The aroma of beer pulled at dead memories of an old life, meanwhile. 

He made himself ignore it.
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#18
His hand pressed atop hers, smothering that writhing darkness. Was that some kind of chivalry? Utterly unnecessary, but she didn't shrug it off either. It was like he tuned inwards for a moment, pulled at something unseen. Hair fluttered by her ear like a passing twist of wind. She had guessed but the honesty was gratifying anyway. Trust always was.

"That work related injury? Your friends won't get another chance." His shield was redundant; assuming the Atharim had a shred of organisation to their kill cult, her identity already darkened their lists. There was no fear in her, though it wasn't the sort that edged into stupidity. It wasn't arrogance, either, though perhaps it may have sounded so. It was just absence; simple acceptance that all things end. The next time, either they would die, or she would; there would be no compromise.

She laughed, low. "Did you just growl?" A sultry tease lit her expression, but she turned soon after; seeking the source. Dark eyes made a lazy scan, rechecking the dangerous marks from habit, though nothing flickered the remotest concern. Not that there weren't dangerous people here, but nothing that suggested what might have caught his attention.

He resumed conversation soon enough, offering a name she knew but accepted anyway, and she offered her own in exchange. "Nhysa." Perhaps she had another name once; she neither knew nor cared. They were clothes, anyway, worn to a purpose. But this was the one she used for continuity, and for that reason was perhaps the truest. At least until it became a liability, as names and identities usually did.

Banalities (or politeness) aside, she was still amused. Her gaze searched his, intrigued. "Tell me what you saw."
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#19
As he'd expected, the beer was cold and the best, the citrus of the lime brightening the flavor. Absently, he wiped the slight tacky lime residue on his fingers onto a cloth napkin. Now that he was seated and drinking, something released a little. The anger was still there. The need to just punch something. But it was like fighting to get somewhere and now that you were there, you could relax a little. The urgency wasn't gone, but wasn't boiling over. It wasn't pushing you.

He laughed at Ryker's joke. "Better than I feel then," he said with a smile. He shook his head, pulled another swig, swirled the contents of the glass as he looked around at their surroundings. This part of the bar did not invite a lot of through-traffic. Mostly people talking over drinks or watching others.

He noted an Asian guy fairly close to them. Something tickled at his mind. Looked kinda familiar too. Not that he held his attention. Nah. The woman next to him drew his eye, though. Angled cheekbones, sharp eyes. Mouth slightly quirked up. Exotic, he'd say, like the girls who came from the south east of here, around the Khazak's or Uzbek's.

And she was into the guy it seemed.

He shrugged, answering Ryker while continuing his tour. "His royal dickheadedness, in his infinite wisdom, decided that I needed to be questioned. Because obviously attacking some random girl in the middle of the most exclusive ball ever made a whole lot of sense for a cop to do." The venom dripped from lips, though it was mostly for show.

He looked back at Ryker and laughed, holding his drink up. "To the Ascendancy!" Another drink. "So they kept me a few days down in their little underground party room, grilling me. Morons. These dicks- I mean 'Rods' -" rolling his eyes- "obviously had extensive training in interrogation techniques. Clearly. But eventually they latched on to the story it had been an accident."

A frown appeared just as he brought his glass to his lips, brows furrowing. "Weird, though. I swear I didn't break the glass. She screamed, man. She screamed and I dropped it completely. She was freaked out, you know? I mean, what did she expect? It was a channeling ball! She or her boy toy had dropped serious coin to be there. But anyway, I let the glass go and it just hung there, by itself. I didn't see any threads of the power holding it up. And then it exploded. Just like that!"

He took his drink. "Just some weird shit." A moment later he felt a sense of dread come over him. The remnant of a smile dropped and his eyes sharpened. It was coming from the table with the cute girl and the suit. Nothing sinister, though the power of another man did feel like someone was looming over you.

He looked at Ryker, jerked his head to point with his chin. "Dude over there is channeling," He said quietly.

And then, wouldn't you know it, the very chick he was talking about walked across the room with a guy in tow. He couldn't help the laugh. Interesting night.  "Would'ya look at that. The girl from the ball just walked by." His laugh fell to a chuckle. 

This would be an interesting night.

Decisions decisions. He looked at Ryker and mentally flipped a coin.
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#20
Li chuckled. "I did growl. Old habit." He said hoping she'd ignore his little bit of aggression. She offered her name. It was unique and pretty and Li committed it to memory, he hadn't been wrong they crossed paths often enough. And down here in the underworld names and friends could be a powerful thing.

But as soon as the names were exchanged she inquired to what he'd seen. Li looked back at the woman and wolf. "Look at the eyes. Wolfkin, the monsters on which werewolves are based. But they get so much wrong. A man doesn't change into a wolf, he has wolf like characteristics, thinks he is a wolf if he's gone too far. Their eyes are always golden. The man with the woman is the one I came seeking. An escaped fighter. But he looks in control..." Li said slowly. He still wasn't sure if the man deserved to live, he was still a wolf, and he was dangerous.
“What you must do," said Monkey, "is lure the monster from its hiding place, but be certain it is a fight you can survive.” 
― Wu Cheng'en, Monkey: The Journey to the West

biography


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