A Blind Eye

[Silas Kole]

He whipped out a paw-like hand and caught the returned pill. Then Silas leaned in close, voice dripping painfully slow. "The difference between you and me kid, is you think these fuckers care about money." These fucking pills were expensive? He barred an amused showing of teeth that might have passed for a smile on another man. Gold eyes flecked with mirth.

"This" he gestured around them, "is the real world kid. We're so far from the street this might as well be fucking Mars." He pocketed the pill, then turned up a shrug. "But thanks."

Then every pore on the kid's white-ass little body stank of carnality. A twist of the neck showed him why. Spectra could leave any man salivating. The woman was a goddess, and Silas retreated a step to offer her the space she deserved. And open up some fresh air between himself and skinny britches before the guy squirt all over the place.

An angle of shadow fell across the bridge of his face, and upon Spectra's compliment, Silas leered a carnivorous smile. The sudden shade of darkness revealed twin yellow lamps glowing like a dog caught in the brush. Color forgotten, contacts didn't glow.

"How very nice of you to say, Ms. Lin." He replied with perfect formality. He stretched out to take the hand she used to hold onto Yuri, and placed the back to the press of his lips. The soft bristles of his beard touched gently. "Perhaps I could trouble you for an autograph." His gaze flicked challenge to Yuri's. Let the games begin.

[Jaxen Marveet]

If his own kind lingered floors overhead, Jaxen was little drawn to rejoin the herd. It wasn't animosity that led his path astray. He simply didn't like to think he was cast from the same mold as a thousand other men. Even if those men were gilded elite compared to the billions of aimless souls wandering the planet.

Oriena's angelic lure pulled him willingly close. But the angel became the devil quickly enough. While she teased, he pushed her hair behind one shoulder and traced the arc of her collarbone with a thumb. The band of a thick platinum ring he wore shocked cold against her warm skin.

Her code slammed clearly, but when she drifted away, a disagreeing smirk planted itself on the lips that ached to press onto hers. The absence of touch painfully eclipsed every annoying scrape in comparison. But Jaxen did not chase her. Oriena unfolded herself on the very seat he and Aisha occupied the last time he was in this room. Was that only a few days ago? Talk about a busy week.

He tapped a finger to his lips, squinting thoughtfully. "No, not light. It screams like the birth of the world. Of everything that ever was. Or will be."
He said plainly as his hand dropped confident to his side. Oriena was a distracting target, but compared to what lingered on the edge of consciousness, she was nothing.

"A storm that resists any attempt to control it, and takes every shred of focus to make it comply."
His vision peered far off just then, grappling at the unseen. That she described it as light was an interesting comparison. A wrong one, but interesting nonetheless. Why couldn't he see the same net spitting through the air when she worked it?

He wanted more time to study the phenomenon before venturing into the dangers of experimentation. Instant command over the elusive was tempting to sit and master overnight, but the quickening of vodka livened the need for sport, and Jaxen knew where to find an apt gameboard. One where he held the advantage. Which were always the best kind.

"I'll be right back,"
and disappeared in the distance of a winding hall.

He returned the perfect image of a Moscow lord slicked for the night roaming the castles of his kingdom. The truly magnificent air to Jaxen's suit, the building block of looking damn fine, was the apathy on his lapel. He dressed because he liked it, not to shame the competition, though he would by spades. The fabric was burnt red, snapped across the shoulders, tapered obsessively down the line of his sleeves and nipped at a narrow waist. It took a man with cojones to pull off a red suit, but Jaxen did have a thing for color. Blame Mumbai, but damn if those guys did have great taste for the flashy. The greatest thing about the look was the shoes, though. Wearing boots with a suit does two things: keeps your feet warm in winter, and says that uniforms look best when messed with. That they were royal purple and alligator was just fucking fun.

"Ostentatious does have its perks."
He smirked and slipped a pocket-slim Wallet inside his jacket. "I feel like taking a walk. Up for it?"
Beneath tousled black hair, a hellish smile curved demonic promise across his lips.

[Oriena]

She watched Jaxen’s expression as he spoke. What he surmised was vastly different from what she felt, but she didn’t think he was lying - couldn’t even think of a reason why he would, other than to be contrary. No, not light. Did he really think she would mistake the two? The power she grasped was gentle, but infinitely formidable; it required submission to calm, to guide, and it felt like euphoria. Try to impose control on that vast, sublime force and instinctively she knew it would crush her. It was none of the violent things he said. And the look on his face as he spoke, like the battle raged even as the words left his lips. Unhidden interest sobered Ori’s expression. He had her full attention, and for a moment the fascination was sincere. What he did, how he did it; she couldn’t feel it or see it, so it stood to reason there would be other disparities. But it all stemmed from the same Sickness. Of that, she was convinced.

The moment faded quickly; her attentiveness sharpened against the insinuation she was wrong. A disparaging smirk turned into a low chuckle. “It’s different. Haven’t you already figured that out?”


Boredom set in swiftly once he’d left. She wasn’t interested in studying her surroundings, nor was she particularly impressed at the abandonment. It had been a fucking long day, and this was not how she’d intended to end it. The party upstairs lacked enticement, all things considered. The monoliths of CCD politics never changed, and she’d never been particularly gratified by her brief stint in its darker shadows. The obscene wealth and casual clash of supremacy froze dissatisfaction in her gut, and shaded by those thoughts the playfulness in her nature became simply callous. The memories still burned; that was half the problem. As if in sympathetic reaction, the power thumped hard in her chest, pounding her ears with the desire to submit. She didn’t.

Oriena made no comment on Jaxen’s outfit change, nor did her expression reveal much when he returned – except perhaps that the decided lack spoke of displeasure at the wait. He offered her a demon’s smile; one she might have appreciated in other circumstances, one that might have alighted devilish kinship in return. Instead the corners of her lips only pricked at the edges, and it was calculation rather than kinship glittering her eyes. She stood, tipped a shoulder in apparently benign acceptance of the challenge, and headed for the door. Denied ownership of a new toy, she was just going to have to find something else to keep herself entertained.

[Jaxen Marveet]

<small>(Oriena's moding done [hopefully] with permission)</small>


The night was still young. Oriena may be tired, but Jaxen was willing to bet he'd win the battle of most hellish week on earth. It didn't slow his step, though. Rolling out the door and carefully locking up behind him. He worked diligently on the Wallet as they walked, all but ignoring Oriena, but he had that sickly sinister smile splitting his face all the way to the elevator. There was a reason he was keen to crash this party. And it had nothing to do with bathing in obscene wealth. Well. Not entirely. But getting there was going to be half the fun.

Back in the day when Jaxen was a bouncing little lad, the ASU capital announced their intent to tower over other city in the world. A few record breaking years later and the Burj Khalifa, the long-time tower most closely touching the heavens, was dwarfed by any number of buildings from the Moscow City skyline. Men could disappear in the maze of steel and glass and only surface when the building spat them back out again. Jaxen, however, knew every intimate passage of the place he called home. When the leviathans of modern skylines swallowed him, he wanted to know exactly how to burrow his way back out again.

Which meant he knew exactly how to rig the place to his whims.

Behind him, an elevator chimed its arrival, but Jaxen was uninterested in taking it. He'd selected a specific lift, and he waited patiently for the doors to part. When they finally did, he slipped in, held the Wallet to the control panel, and made his selections. Consequently, nothing extraordinary happened, but Jax slipped the tech back in his pocket seemingly satisfied with himself and turned to Oriena.

His expression drew balefully sinister, a darkness just shy of harmful. Probably.

His approach was swift and grip far from the gentility in their dance. The satisfaction of pinning the object of his craving between himself and the wall only fueled the hunger for more. From the circle of her mouth, his lips chased the line of a neck opened up by a wrenching of her hair with all the demand of one used to being in control. And thanks to an expert thief's trickery, he had as long as he wanted to enjoy Oriena's obedience. Assuming she complied. He had a feeling she would. Marauding grip served distraction, and he switched her places so to lean himself against the support of the cold leather wall. About then, wily hands laid the weight of suggestion on her shoulders, expecting to send her to her knees.

[Yuri Obrechennyy]

Yuri felt a tinge of warmth at the woman's touch, and then -- somewhat surprisingly even to Yuri -- she slid up next to him. Well. Hot damn. He hadn't expected her to get so handsy right away. It wasn't how women usually acted around him, especially those as righteously hot as -- miss Lin. But fuck him if he was going to argue with it. Who cared whatever the fuck she was going on yammering on about how pretty Yellow Eyes looked to her? A chick in Yuri's hand was worth two eyeballing Yellow Eyes across the hall.

Now Yellow Eyes was talking about autographs. What a chump."That's a great idea. Why don't you go grab a pen for her from the lobby? And something to sign, too. Unless you expect her to sign your forehead."


He turned his head just so to regard Lin. "Weather's nice outside. Why don't we go check out the view?"

[Silas Kole]

Silas chuckled. A pen and paper? Shitbreak still thought he was in the ghetto. A-fucking-dorable.

He pulled a Wallet from one pocket, slim as paper and offered it to Spectra. "To Silas?" He requested with a grin he shot toward Yuri. It was the recently released upgrade featuring the coveted infinity design. An edgeless screen that when powered down was transparent as water, but when sprung to life, illuminated equally on both front and back though it was impossible to tell which was which side.

"Maybe Jori here could take a picture?" Yuri couldn't decline without looking like any more of an asshole he already did, but of course it meant offering his prize to a competitor if he agreed. Peeling the model off the kid's arms was the highlight of their conversation so far.

[Oriena]

She hadn’t been paying attention, and Jaxen took her by surprise. Fear prompted no self-defence; wouldn’t have even if she’d wanted it to, against the beast he’d described made flesh. Her heart beat wild as he pinned her against the elevator wall, though it was no longer alarm; a smile crushed against his lips, even as pain warped the thrill of pleasure. Jaxen tasted sharp and diamond bright - the shock of him caught her breath - but he had a fucking awful sense of timing. Not that it stopped her enjoying every ounce of carnality in the blistering heat of the moment, nor reciprocating the rawness of her own lust – a teasing taste of it, anyway. In that there were no games, no deceptions. Every touch was possessive - not fighting for control, and not railing in indignation at the liberties he took, but not wilting under his dominance either. She was a willing accomplice; just not a meek one.

Her lips curved a wicked grin at the press of his hands on her shoulders. She peered up through black lashes, irises a maelstrom of blue and grey and a fuckload of desire. But expectation didn’t work for Jaxen a second time. By the decadent look on her face, it was not prudishness that defied him, nor even lack of willing. She leaned in, bit his lip amidst a poison kiss. “You made me wait, sweetheart.”
Her voice purred low, sensuous even in its cruelty. He’d picked a party over her company, and the decision had penalties. She wouldn’t consent to being an afterthought, nor a precursor; she demanded his full attention. And she was a bitch when she didn’t get what she wanted.

[Spectra Lin]

Spectra shivered just thinking about going outside. Her dulcet voice shuddered as a baby bird peeking over the edge of the nest. "Oh! No, no. Is so cold outside."
Shimmering nails slid up and down the curves of bare arms. The breeze on these lofty terraces was always chilling to her tropical blood, and the mere suggestion prickled her coppery flesh to goosebumps at the thought. She had keenly avoided the balconies all evening.

Then the sun did indeed break through the clouds. Silas' gentlemanly ways played Spectra away from Yuri, and the kiss on the back of the hand drew the beautiful princess went to his side. She beamed at the fawning.

She drew the pad of a finger across the luminous crystals of the screen and swirled her name across the autograph.

Sweet Silas: ¡Salud!
Spectra Lin


Through thick lashes rimmed smokey with her exotic gaze, she flicked a daring rise to challenge back at Yuri. Only one of them could win after all.

[Jaxen Marveet]

Oriena's fiery promises licked in his ear, and he barely withheld the hellish eagerness she elicited. Thoughts of force sparked spitefully as he pulled her in.

There was a small corner of Jaxen's brain that would have been disappointed with Oriena's quick consent. A very small corner. That would have been forgotten quite quickly had things gone differently. Her defiance played into the pleasure of eventual conquest, and delayed gratification was the cornerstone of Jaxen's life. He could play Oriena's game all night. So long as they were both clear. It was going to happen eventually. Just a matter of time.

His skin still prickled warm with afterthought of denial, pinched by the bite on the lip. Still in control of the elevator, he didn't release her yet; the boys monitoring security footage probably paused their swapping out of lost bets about now until seeing what Jaxen would do. Surprisingly, he submitted to the treaty, but only to plant vicious promise of reciprocation.

"I will make you scream,"
he nibbled softly. A tearing ache delivered with such sweet potency. Jaxen was a man balanced by contradiction. He was the solid gaze of Moscow's legacy edged with agility and finesse. His was a grip that could choke defiance out of society while yet graze the contours of a woman until she shuddered. Oriena could experience him, and she would shudder and scream and sob for his attention that he not stop. The moment she begged 'please', the greatest sound in the world, he would yield, but with a bright hunger in his eyes that every man after would disenchant all illusion of future satisfaction in comparison. That was the smile that agreed to her armistice. That was the lead by which he escorted her to one of the most exclusive barriers of entry in all of Moscow. And that was the coy air by which they were welcomed in it. This was his world. His board. Oriena was merely allowed to play on it.

First things first, he gestured toward one of several bars. He was kind of in the mood for champagne.

[Yuri Obrechennyy]

Well now, so Yellow Eyes' stupid autograph come-on and quaint hand kissing actually worked. Wasn't that a bitch? Sans the Wallet, it was like Yuri was stuck in some crappy 19th century drama on British public broadcasting and he was losing to Lord Asskiss.

And now Spectra Lin was at his side. Too cold outside? It wasn't even winter yet.

"I'd imagine your presence would thaw even a Russian winter,"
he said to Spectra. Fuck, it was a strain on his vocabulary to sound smooth and educated and stuff. "But you must be used to warmer climates. I'd love to hear about where you come from. I was thinking of checking out what is being served in the kitchen, if you care to join me?"


Yuri offered her his arm. But he wasn't done yet. He doubted Spectra would think Yellow Eyes so charming if...well, she was right next to him, and Yellow Eyes' hands were momentarily out of view. Fuck yeah, what could go wrong? She'd think Yellow Eyes did it -- there wasn't any other rational explanation.

Yuri channeled a quick little flow of air around the two of them and gave her a nice pat on her perfect little ass.


Edited by Yuri Obrechennyy, Nov 4 2013, 02:57 AM.