[[old thread, when Mal was newly raised; just adding so I can easily reference]]

 

The phone in his nightstand buzzed.  Hayden looked at his clock on his bed stand and groaned.  It was 3 am he'd only been in bed for half an hour.  Fucking bullshit!

He rolled over blurry-eyed and tugged the drawer open and found the secret phone at the bottom of the junk inside.  It always fell to the bottom no matter what he did.  Better that way but still annoying in the middle of the night, and it was the middle of the fucking night.

He didn't bother sitting up as he tabbed through security to get into the phone. 

  Cuz. Special mark coming your way. Handle with care. [dossier attached]   

Hayden sighed.  That couldn't wait till morning.  Arrival time was a few days away.  Hayden didn't bother looking at the attached information beyond arrival time.  He had plenty of time to get clean sheets and straighten up the space.  Not that anyone had stayed there in a while, most Atharim passing through were just that -- passing through and needed supplies.  On to bigger and better things.  Hayden didn't much care.  That this one was staying was special. But that his cousin several times removed had sent him a personal warning was unique.  Meant it mattered to her -- for whatever reason.

Hayden rolled over and closed his eyes.  Hopefully sleep came again otherwise he was going to be a fucking mess.

Target: Reggie Hill - London, England [dossier attached]

Quote:My friend, I need to ask another favor of you.  I'm going hunting for the Atharim. I don't know when I'll be back, but I will be back. I need you to take care of Lily for me.  The road is no place for a water plant.

I'm leaving my favorite hoodie in your care as well -- proof of concept, a promise you'd believe -- Barring death, I will be back for it -- last thing my mother gave me and all.

I want the best for you -- have a great life.

[[A small hesitation of a mark that could be accidental but was the start of the letter L]] Forever & Always, Nox

Wiki page: here

Origins: Born of Henri Marquis, brother to the founder of Zalya Fashion, and Kyra Mavros, a model and award winning fashion designer. With such beautiful parents it was inevitable Gideon would grow up to thrive in front of the camera. His formative years were spent in France, but he started modelling for Zalya Fashions as a child, and is currently the face of his mother’s high end clothes line. He’s well travelled and jets all across the Custody for both work and pleasure. It’s a lifestyle that suits him well, for he finds it difficult to sit still. And when Gideon has to sit still, it usually coincides with a (completely) coincidental amount of trouble.

These days he's a star in the world of high fashion, perfumery, and luxury beauty. As well as the darling of Zalya, he is a regular face for prestige brands such as Gucci, Luis Vuitton, Hermès, Dior and Chanel, both in campaigns and on the runway. He takes particular delight in avant garde couture, and does not shy away from controversy.

Most of his life is flashed in titillating glimpses across various social media platforms.

Several years ago he discovered he had a half-brother in London. After an impromptu trip he decided not to tell Hayden who he was.

Family: 

• Henri Marquis and Kyra Mavros (parents)
  
• Genevre Marquis and Ephraim Haart (aunt and uncle)
  
• Liam Haart Marquis (cousin)
  
• Hayden Sebastian (half-brother)
  

• 2nd Age: Ezra Rashka, historian
  
• 3rd Age: The Forsaken, Belshazzar, later reborn as Jadis Astarte
  
• 6th Age: Herald of the Greek Gods, Hermes
  

age: 27
current location: London, England
occupation: owns a bar in London, Atharim contract cleaner and spy, second son of Sebastian family

personality: Hayden is typically a charming, fun loving, sarcastic guy who is always trying to help people despite the fact that part of his job is to deceive and manipulate. Hayden is apathetic to much of his duties to the Atharim.

description: Hayden is 6'3" with broad shoulders and long legs.  He has piercing green eyes and a messy mop of blonde hair he keeps styled in that I just woke up look. He sports a 5'o clock shadow most days rarely shaving completely.  He likes to wear comfortable clothes but most of them a high dollar brand names. He cleans up real nice enough that his father is not embarrassed by him.

powers: He knows about the Atharim and their clandestine nature.  He doesn't know about monsters necessarily he is usually tasked with cleaning up messes and disposing of corpses and bodies.  He is routinely used to find traitors and sus out individuals who have a beef with an individual or the cause of the Atharim.

History

Parents: Gabriel and Amelia
Siblings: Ethan (40), Mia and Ivy (38)

Hayden is the second son and youngest of four children of Gabriel and Amelia. He is currently unattached and owns a bar in London that is also an Atharim safe house.

At the age of 8 Hayden found out he was not his parent's child. But the child of his older 'brother' who got a girl pregnant when he was only 13.  She was 19 and the scandal was covered up, the girl paid to keep quiet and Gabriel and Amelia quietly adopted Hayden.

Hayden's biological mother, Kyra Mavros, was sent to Milan, Italy on a modeling contract where she made a name for herself.  She is now currently designing her own line of fashion. Hayden has never looked for his biological mother.

With Ethan currently unmarried  and without any other children Hayden stands to inherit everything when Ethan passes.  This is an ongoing conflict with his sisters Mia and Ivy.

By the age of 13 Hayden was helping his father, Gabriel, when dealing with Atharim in their nearest safe houses.  Gabriel quickly realized that Hayden had a knack for getting people to talk to him, to understanding their motivations and their body language with little training.  Gabriel pushed Hayden into learning more about psychology, micro-expressions, empathy, and even more esoteric things like astrology and numerology, anything that would allow him to hone his ability to get information from a person willingly.

At age 16 Hayden was interrogating traitors for the Atharim trying to garner who they told and where they might be holed up. And shortly there after Hayden killed his first person. It was completely by accident, as he gave the traitor he was talking too much of the serum they were using to garner truth.  It was a hard lessoned learned, but Hayden took up learning alchemy and poison creation as a result of the accident.

Hayden was sent to University in London to hone the skills even further.

During his time in University as an undergrad his father asked him to clean up several messes left by Atharim.  Some of it was just talking to survivors and readjusting their stories.  Other parts were actual body clean ups.  Hayden didn't actually dispose of corpses, but he knew people who did thanks to his father's connections, they just needed a little bit of personal touch that Hayden provided.  In one case he had to finish a kill an Atharim flubbed on, Hayden choosing to make it look like an accident fashioned a slow acting poison from peanuts -- the mark was deathly allergic.  With one sip of a drink the man was dead within two hours.

After undergrad, at 21, Hayden rebelled against his father's wishes and choose a more unorthodox approach to what his father wanted.  He bought a bar and practiced his skills behind the counter tending to his patrons. He continued his education getting his Master's degree while working the bar full time.

Hayden's lives above his bar, Harbor House, on the third floor, the second floor after attempts to rent it out failed, was given to his father as an Atharim safe house -- the only condition Hayden had was there would be no weapons stash or other assets.  Purely a place to stay safe and hidden not to restock and refuel.  He didn't want people coming and going so frequently that he was constantly restocking the place.

Hayden is 2 years away from reaching his PhD in Psychology.

[[Continued from Lyaeus]]

She’d been in her bedroom for days.

Her skin was buzzing, and it made her unsafe. Even Ephraim wouldn’t see her when she was like this. Visha lay curled up on her bed, the little owl of the bracelet Seven had given her pressed tight in the hollow of her fist. She ran that wonderful night over and over in her mind, re-lived it a thousand times. She’d promised to see him again, though she had no wallet contact to give him. But even Catch wouldn’t spring her loose when security was locked down this tight.

Her arm still throbbed from all the blood draws. They’d needed that to fix what she’d broken, she knew, but she hated it every time; fought like a desperate animal, and pleaded, and screamed, and begged. To no avail.

Time began to lose all meaning. She didn’t even watch her favourite shows, feeling it a cruel and mocking reminder of how much she wanted to return to the glamour and mystery of Kallisti.

When Ephraim was finally ready to see her, she didn’t know how long it had been. Visha sat up. She was covered from toes to throat, but she folded her limbs tighter around herself. In contrition or sulkiness, it was hard to say. Her alien eyes peeped over the top of her knees, silent. But the news wasn’t good. He explained she was going to be visiting a doctor, and her heart sank to her ankles at the prospect. She didn’t argue, though. Especially when Ephraim used the C word. 

Cure.

After her evening with Mik and Andre, Tenzin sought solace with the wolves outside the city. They could not understand her troubles, but they soothed the snarls in her mind with simple belonging and companionship, and in that warm den of safety Tenzin let herself be. They shared news and warmth, from good hunting to the delightful antics of pups, and then to the whispers of the dream – of a wolf, the oldest one, who had begun striding amongst them all, agitated by a man who was kin and not.

They also spoke of strange ripples containing ancient power, and more things that woke or rediscovered forgotten secrets in the dream. The wolves watched it all, some necessitating a closer guard than others. Two such names Tenzin did not recognise. When such great powers began rousing like terrible sleeping beasts threatening to wake, the pack must be wary. This information travelled between all the packs, but none really knew what it meant.

A few days tumbled past before she realised her wild heart needed the reminders of man, and on that morning she returned to the safe house. Her feelings over Jacinda had calmed into a steadfast resolution. Chases Butterflies had gently nudged; she had more experience with the kin, had even let one of older pups leave with one so that they might teach and learn the old ways together. And she spoke of someone who needed help.

Jacinda would come with her if she asked. Or at least she hoped. Perhaps outside of the city’s press the conversation would be easier. And perhaps Tenzin would seem less of a monster. She was not ashamed of what she was, and she trusted her companion enough that she did not think Jacinda’s newly discovered epiphany was so fragile in nature as to shatter the moment Tenzin revealed herself. The things she said had been heartfelt and earnest. And in the moment, that had been the problem. Because in the face of Jacinda’s vulnerable honesty, Tenzin had felt like a lie.

But upon her return she was dismayed to find the safehouse empty. It wasn’t remotely fair to feel abandoned, but in the moment of being confronted with all that silence after months of living so closely together, she did. And for the first time she wondered if her visceral reaction had caused irreparable damage. If the space she had needed had not been understood. She felt a whine claw at her chest, but shook it off, and discovered the message that had been left for her.

"Amelia Pond's in trouble. I went to help her...I'll let you know what I find."

She paused over it. Listened a few times. Her fingers traced the empty spot on her wrist, where Silver’s tooth had once sat.

Then she left her own note in turn, written in stilted old-fashioned hand. She’d never been much for the Atharim’s tech.

Be safe. Business outside Moscow. Coming back.

She grumbled at her own inelegance with the language. Added with a frown, in the much easier flourish of her mother tongue: I want you to know who I am.

Then she packed the things she would need, locked up, and left.