Ilesha had left Kallisti with more questions than answers, but the problem was she didn't even know where to begin with the questions. Clare and introduced her to Oriena - her boss. Oriena scared Ilesha. Rafe had been cute. She might go back just to see him.

But it had been a few days and she didn't want to go home yet. There were people like her here. Maybe she could learn something still. Or figure out what to ask. But now she still felt that draw to the monument the Ascendancy had built. If only she could figure out how it had been done so easily.

The crowd was still large around it when Ilesha finally decided to go look. She sat down on a nearby bench and looked at it. She started humming a small tune, something to distract her mind and bring the unique power to her. She let her power drift towards the monument. She now saw the threads, she sent earth and spirit to the structure and explored the exquisite piece of power wrought rock and metal. And who else knew what had been inside the original building.

Ilesha wondered if people had died....but the thought drifted away as she studied the monolith.

[ continued from Sold Out! ]

Dorian's house was a three story mansion surrounded now by an 8 foot wall of solid earth - about 10 inches thick, but Nox hadn't measured it - he and Cruz had erected to keep the Atharim out. Nox wasn't done setting up safe guards for the inevitable event of the Atharim trying to kill them. New weapons meant new experiments so Nox had a lot to play with to make Dorian's house a safe place for Dorian's family. It reminded Cruz of home with the Spanish architecture and the palm trees that required year round maintenance Christian said. Too much for Nox...

Nox used the combination Christian had given him for the side door. It was a 'servants' door, but Nox had this thing about going in Dorian's front door - very self conscious about looking like a snob. The door opened into a small entry area that lead into the kitchen. Nox liked Dorian's kitchen. It was the one room that Ana had said didn't need remodeling and Nox would agree. It was nice. Cozy and warm and had everything anyone would want.

Before he stepped into the kitchen Nox grabbed a case of beer Christian had purchased. There was no point refrigerating it when Nox or Cruz would just make it ice cold anyway. It was the the reason they had so much of it. It had become a game with Cruz. One of few weaves Cruz was allowed to do without supervision. Nox wasn't about to let Cruz hurt himself so long as Dorian continued to pay the bills. He normally wasn't so cautious.

Nox wove a weave of air and pulled the basement door open. It was one reason why Nox liked the side door. The kitchen and the basement were his two domains he felt comfortable in. He hated wandering to his bedroom at night. He chose to most nights only because there was a warm body in his bed. Some nights though he needed space and slept in the small 'servant's room with a twin bed a desk and a small dresser of drawers with no door on the room. Christian had a room down here as well but he never used it - Ana wouldn't let him sleep down here anyway, but it was his own space. Nox liked their arrangement.

Down stairs was shaping up. The large area down the stairs was still mostly incomplete, but Nox and Cruz had managed to rubberize the floor. It had taken a lot of work to put the rubber coating down. Air had worked well in spreading it out evenly. But it was still manually and mental labor. Cruz hated doing manual labor, it was one reason why Nox made him do it.

The weights from Dorian's boxes had been set up with a punching and speed bag sat in the far corner with a ceiling to floor mirror to check out form.

Under the stairs down into the basement Sage had carved out a space for himself. It was basically where he sat while Nox practiced weaving and fighting and just about anything else he could think of to do downstairs without having to go upstairs. Sage rarely left his side which was odd, but comforting in a weird sort of way. He wasn't clinging to him in a bad way. More like they shared the "I'm uncomfortable here" vibe. When Nox and Cruz were gone to Moscow University Sage stayed in his hiding spot too. He never really left the corner under the stairs except to sleep in his bed upstairs or to eat.

There was a couch sitting just outside the rubberized floor for people to watch. Or just gather. Sage and Cruz wanted to bring video games into his sanctuary and Nox veto'd it. They'd get broken. Which is why Sage pulled his things underneath the stairs. A stray fireball almost took his laptop out one day.

Nox set the case of beer on the floor under the stairs, it was safest there and pulled out two beers. He purposefully grabbed the power and slowly wove the ice weaves to chill them. If Jay could see the threads he'd see it - know what he was doing. It would be an interesting talk.

Nox handed Jay one of the beers after opening both with a quick twist of air and tossed the caps into a bucket nearby. Nox waved his hand to the couch for Jay to sit and Nox walked into the room he sometimes stayed to grab a clean t-shirt. The shirt he bought was just not going to cut it anymore. It was itchy and made Nox shiver in disgust. As he walked he asked, "While you were talking about my reason for killing that guy, you were thinking about something else. You think you can manage that emotion again? Those exact feelings?"


Nox disappeared into the room and came back out with a new shirt. He pulled the other one off and flipped it into the air and burnt it. It was nothing but ash by the time it hit the floor. Nox sat down on the rubberized part of the floor in front of Jay as he pulled on the t-shirt. His shoulder was staring to ache from where the creature had grabbed him and he hadn't thought to look at how bad it bruised while passing the mirror - later he thought to himself.

Sierra had sent a text - however awkwardly to the number Elyse had needed. The number was the only one she had saved a contact to in her wallet. Something she'd purchased with major hesitation. She didn't like the technology, but she needed to keep in contact with clients. Work had never really been something Sierra needed to worry about, but she couldn't live in Moscow on her wildlife photography alone.

She sat down on the large couch waiting for her friend to come in. Her back was too the door, her camera she held in her hand while she focused on the far wall. There was an interesting collection of things on shelves - almost like someone's living room. The light came in perfectly casting some of the pieces in shadow and others in radiant light.

Sierra had spent the rest of the night sketching out the image of the tattoo the man wore on his arm - his left arm. It was significant. She'd known it then, and she knew it now.

The wolves were too far away, they were just a ghost on her mind. She missed Snow, and missed the wolves. Now that the weather was warmer maybe she'd spend time with the pack. Maybe Elyse would like to go.

A large tea cup sat virtually untouched next to the sketch that had taken all night to draw. It wasn't Sierra's talent, but she could manage with some degree of realism. It at least looked like the one in her memory.

In the dream memories had been sparse - addled with sleep and mystery, but Sierra remembered the moment she woke the woman from her dream. They'd met before - not for long - and in another case of the bizarre. Sierra wondered how that emo boy was doing - Elias. And if Jaxen was alright, the man had been naked in the snow and yet he didn't show any signs of ill treatment or frost bite. Everything seemed to be weird around Moscow...

Sierra knew she was in the dream long before it became apparent. It always felt different, the way the senses came, how the dream flickered and she was aware of the changes. Sleeping in the dream world was different than the the wolf dream.

And even this was different, it was more like watching a dream - maybe someone else's dream? Sierra didn't understand the dream. None of it.

A series of images flashed passed her a man and and a young woman. There is an argument. Tempers fly. The general feeling of familial ties - father and daughter. The argument is confusing. Death, assassination?

The two part, a rift forms between them. The tie that bound them broken. Sierra's heart sinks as they part ways forever.

Sierra walks after the girl, maybe she can help her...

The scene before her flickers and another one appears. Two men fighting. Again there is a family tie between them. A woman nursing a child looks on, she's tied to one, but the baby tied to another. Sierra watches as each person crumbles into ashes. Their lives broken. More loss...

Sierra turned a different direction - there was nothing to save here.

Another man and woman appear before Sierra. The dagger through the heart. Sierra collapsed to her knees as the daughter died. Why was the dream showing her these things? She wanted out - she opened her eyes and was crying. She missed Snow even more now, the warmth and comfort of her friend was gone.... all those families lost.

(( Just a time filler - I have no point to the thread. Feel free to jump in ))

Things with Dane had gone differently than expected. Promises were made - plans started. Aria was still reveling in the fact that Dane was back. The call of her power made walking the halls of the Kremlin difficult. The raw need to hurt was calling and Aria had to keep herself far embedded in her emotionless bubble. Not for her own safety - but for that of others. She was certain that the Ascendancy would only be so lenient.

The ZARS agents were scouring Moscow looking for any sign of the Regus. Aria gave them the location of several safe houses the Atharim commonly used. But she kept the ones with the most to lose a secret from her new found lackies. They didn't like reporting to her. But would Aria didn't like reporting to an unknown factor either. Her ZARS handler was still her handler. He was the intermediary between the agents and herself. She had never laid eyes on them.

Aria told them of the weapons used to fight Ascendancy earlier, but as of yet none of the safe houses had yielded any. They had only the two devices that she and Martin had carried, and they were likely damaged from the fight. Aria still missed her sword - she had nothing right now except her hands, and it bothered her a great deal. The need for the long duster type coat was unnecessary yet that was the first purchase Aria made. She would recover her sword! If she didn't she would make her case known to the Ascendancy himself. To have the ear of such a powerful man was almost as intoxicating as her own ability.

Today, Aria was searching the ruins of the Baccarat Mansion. She needed to see if Nox had a map of the tunnels still - it was the only logical explanation. How did the Regus get out with nothing capturing him on camera.

Aria crouched on the perimeter of the ruins thinking, as she absently fingered a piece of charred concrete. Where had the Regus gone? Why has he not reached out to the network...

There was a day and age when Methos would have done little preparation for a concert. There was also a day and age when Methos was young and spry and not age worn - or worn from having a child. He loved Chris who was happily hanging out in his dressing room with Bradley and Kay. The little one wasn't quite so little anymore. The past two years had shown much progress in the growing of a little boy from a toddler they had adopted.

Troy and Bev were in the arena setting up - doing their thing with this new fathomed magic he'd known about for a few years now. The world was just finding out. Methos was half tempted to bring Troy up on stage and preform some of his spectacular scenes with the crowd but he wasn't sure it would be well received. And Troy wasn't exactly a showman. It had taken Methos months of cajoling to get Troy to do the pyrotechnics from backstage.

Bev on the other hand took little to convince - she was a music major and knew exactly what Methos had been looking for. It was the perfect team. But did he want to tell the world? That was his big question.

But he had had to put that aside when it came time to warm up. Dancing and singing might look easy, but it hardly was. Methos had to warm up his voice and his body before even stepping foot on the stage. And both were getting more difficult with age.

And that wasn't even the icing on the cake - he still had to pick an outfit for the night. He was looking for something to be proud of - something that said the world was changing and with it so was Methos. He even planned on debuting a new single - he hadn't told Bradley yet or Kay for that matter. But the band knew his plans - everyone but his fans and the two closest to him. Methos loved to surprise people.

The show tonight was sold out - it had sold out quickly. Kay said there was some sort of glitch in the system and a couple dozen VIP tickets got oversold. Really wasn't that big of a deal. The more the merrier Methos thought... and he was Methos at the moment - Adam was still wishing he was in bed with his husband and son waking up from an excellent nights rest in a great city and a great hotel. But tonight was about Methos - and he didn't regret it one once. He loved to be him.

Or is that assimilated??

Anyone else hear that the collective has fallen? I've got it on good authority that Ph4s3r has gone missing. 3ff3rv3sc3nt has been looking for him all over. You'd think she'd keep better track of her boyfriend. I hear The Den is shot too - whatever protections the collective gave them have all but vanished. Everything in the server room is gone and no one knows what happened.

~Pierc3

Sage was still getting used to the house he was staying in. Everyone seemed cool for uptight rich folk anyway. Nox seemed to fit right in, though he hung out more in the kitchen and the basemen than in the lounge or study or anywhere other than his and Elyse's room. Sage still found that fact a bit mind boggling - Nox had a girlfriend.

But it kept him in check none-the-less. At least for now. Nox was downstairs in his makeshift gym throwing fireballs... it looked more like dancing to Sage with the way his friend's body moved from position to position with the occasional fireball thrown at the opposite wall only to hit a barrier of air Nox had created.

Sage sat at the top of the stairs well away from any dangerous play as he used a laptop. There was no need for pain meds, but he was still taking anxiety meds because of the lack of connection. But the dosage went lower and lower each day as he adjusted to his new life - Sage could only hope that one day the implant would work again. Hacking by hand had proven to be difficult. Even setting up the secure line for Elyse was something he had to reteach his fingers how to do.

Sage's wallet rang and he picked it up. "Hey."
His voice was chipper and he was truly happy to hear from Sasha, but it had to be late over there.

Sasha's voice on the other hand was concerned. "You heard from Bryan?"

"No. Why?"


"He's not been around for days. Last thing I heard was he was using the collective to hack the Kremlin. Something in your honor I think. At least that's the rumor going around the dark web."

"What?"


"I'll let you know what I find out but I wanted to check in with you? How's the little brother treating you?"

Sage grinned. "He's excitingly ignoring me right now."


"I'm sure you are bored out of your mind out there - no connection - no hacking."

Sage shrugged but knew Sasha couldn't see it. "Actually, I'm not. I like the view. And Nox's friends are cool. Cruz likes to play video games so I'm good."


"Alright. I'm gonna make some other calls. Find out what happened to Bryan. Call me Sage, I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine. Aurora's brother is taking good care of me. I promise - set me up in a mansion and everything."
With that little tidbit of gossip Sage hung up with a smirk.

Sage wondered what had happened to Bryan... but when Sage looked up he noticed there was no more view and Nox was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up with a smirk on his face.


Edited by Sage, Jan 17 2017, 02:11 PM.

The night had grown dark and the sun was starting to reach its horizon. The collective was busy working away - the path ahead was blocked by firewalls and other hackers amongst the numerous security measures the CCD employed. They were getting no where.

But no one was complaining and Bryan was enjoying the challenge. Though he had lost sight of the original goal. Now it was just about breaching the walls. He'd started a fight he intended to win.

Bryan was locked away bundled in a fur lined winter jacket and fingerless gloves underneath a blanket. The server room was freezing, and the blue lights all around made it feel like some eeire winter wonderland in cyberspace. His ears were covered with noise canceling ear buds blaring some of his favorite hacking playlists. He didn't hear the team break in to Sage's apartment through the front door. He didn't hear the rush of air leaving the server room as they bypassed Sage's security panel and entered into the room with guns trained at him.

The team was small. They were all wearing black and were a stark contrast against the white walls of the server room. Three red lazer beams floated across Bryan's body and a man had stepped up to the computer terminal and tapped on the monitor in front of Bryan before he even noticed the four people standing in a once upon a time secret room.

Bryan's hands shot up and he yelped loud enough he heard himself over the music playing. As quietly and as quickly as they had asserted themselves into Sage's apartment they left...Byran dragged along with them with a black bag over his head, his noise cancelling ear buds in place and a gag in his mouth.

The scent of grass and flowers and fruit and water filled the crisp air. Warming rays of sunlight cut through the leaves, leaving shadows on his arms and legs. He put his head back and rested it against the rough bark, stretched out sensuously and felt the cool earth and the tickle of the blades against his palms and fingers, feet and toes. He inhaled deeply and with satisfaction, the sound of chirping summer birds and the cool rustle of leaves filling his ears.

His entire life, it seemed, he had lived here, was one with the earth, one with life. The memory of a simple life- filled with hard work, with the sweat of ones brow and the soreness of hard-earned muscle- was all there was, all there ever was in this single moment. The sound of children playing. The laughter of friends and brothers and sisters. A connection in the web of life, his roots firm and deep. A lifetime. Peace. Tranquility.

Pop. As if a soap bubble burst. And then things shifted. It was him. And now it wasn't. Or rather, now it was him. The other....a fleeting memory. Even as he reached out to it, to examine it, it vanished like smoke through fingers. The harder he struggled to reform the image- the recreate the scene- the more ephemeral it became. Not his dream.

His consciousness seemed to crest the surface and gradually he became aware of his surroundings. Each sense individually presented itself, one at a time. The warm slightly sulfurous smell curled his nostrils. The sounds of muffled distant voices echoed off stone, the words strange and twisted. The warmth of a heavy furred skin on him trapping his body heat, the feel of hard padding beneath his naked flesh. He opened his eyes to a semi darkened chamber, the flicker of fire light from far outside the room.

The cobwebs of the dream were brushed away as easily as by hands and now he was firmly awake. He listened to the distant voices, making out words here and there. He wondered how long he had slept. He checked his timepiece. 10 hours.

He was surprised. He thought his body would demand much more. Indeed, tiredness seemed to wash over him for a moment, but then it was gone. Or at least was something he could push aside. The ache was there but dull. The medication and burn treatments had done their job and while tender, it was livable. He was sure he'd need more rest later, but it was enough for now.

He sat up, ignoring the light-headedness for a moment, and then stood. His robe was folded on the ground. He stood and stretched out, felt the delicious pain in his arms and chest, felt the warm dry air over his body. It was all very sensual and strange. He dressed in the clothing he had been given, the robe last over his bare shoulders furry and warm, though open at the chest. His packs on the ground yielded his water- untouched- and he performed his morning ablutions as best he could. He also ate one of the energy bars and the rumble of his stomach dissipated.

His strong nose and blue eyes were sharp and alert as he stood in the entrance way. The rest had been good and necessary. He was Armande, Regus of the Atharim. And apparently, amazingly, was some sort of Messianic figure to these Khylsty. What that meant, he did not know. But he was will to trust this much. Something was at work and he had a purpose to play.

The opening skirmishes with the reborn gods had left casualties on both sides- thankfully Apollyon himself included. But the war was far from over. What he had lost he needed to gain. Apollyon's death would not stop the resurgence. The Atharim needed to be strengthened. They needed leavening. These Khylsty could be that straw amidst the clay.

He stepped out into the rock hallway, his robes brushing the rough ground, and strode purposefully to the voices he'd heard.

A larger room- the one he'd remembered from his treatments- came into view. Matvei and his apprentice were there, along with a few others. Valeriya was nowhere to be found. He knew the dynamic here. He had no interest in helping Matvei- the Hand- upset the order. Not unless strictly necessary. Valeriya was the one who had seen and recognized him. She was the Eye. What that meant for him, he couldn't specifically say. Or wouldn't say, anyway.

"I thank you for my accommodations. I found them very restful." He nodded his head a fraction graciously. He studied both men. If they had slept, he did not know it. Now that he had rested, he felt a renewed sense of vigor. Other kinds of hungers squirmed and for a moment he was torn. The map called to him. For a moment, a memory of a scent came to him, familiar. Warm. And then it was gone. He shook his head, returning to his thoughts. What did the map mean? Where did it point? The Eye. A living map, a conduit to otherworldly knowledge. His. He was unsure which to ask to see first.

That disturbed him.

It was the eyes that decided him.

"Please take me to the things that have been taken from the hidden chamber."

Matvei's assent was followed by his leading the way.