Surprise softened Noémi’s expression for the unexpected extravagance presently revealed in the mundane shadows of her kitchen. On a black bed of diamond-dusted petals lay an exquisite display of long-stem roses, sculptured to life-like detail in fine Baccarat crystal. Little wonder, then, that the package had received such a formal escort not just to her door, but with a flourish to the very counter upon which the box now rested. The roses were beautiful in a way she dare not even touch; worth more, probably, than the entire contents of her apartment. Instead her fingers trailed the inky hydrangeas arranged like billowing darkness around them, and amid the softly dancing cadence of her own heartbeat she began to wonder from whom the gift had come.

A note accompanied it, and she plucked it next, although slowly, both revered and wary of the moment. Her body flushed warm; guessing already, or perhaps more accurately simply wanting, like desire of will alone might tip the scales of impossible. Because an entire night and day had passed and yet the feeling of him still hadn’t completely faded, just settled into her like something that felt strangely akin to the lamentation of absence. Her journal was filled with lines attempting ineffectual capture of that brief moment and the way it lingered ever after. Not that she named him, or ever would. 

She braced herself for the disappointing fall of hope enshrined to too great a height, and sank onto one of the kitchen stools to read. A rational explanation would follow. The benefits accompanying her new job at the EoA had already proved baffling to someone born into abject poverty -- immense stipends for presentable clothing, for instance, that not one of her colleagues even blinked at and yet seemed like the strangest luxury to someone who comfortably thrifted most of her wardrobe. 

The script on the card was neat, graceful without inefficiency, but it wasn’t from the office:

Evelyn slipped into the back seat of the car while the driver prepared their departure. Luckily for her, the DC was cloaked in the shadow of nightscape. The shadows concealed the tiredness around her eyes. Even if she was in the presence of only a driver, the appearance of confidence and competence was mandatory. The sharks of politics were circling and even a moment of weakness would give them a moment to strike.

Her driver’s name was Devin. He was in his mid-forties, lean and kept his hair styled short and neat. She came to know him in the few weeks he worked for her. His replacement was retracted by the Personal Security Committee after Evelyn’s stances changed from pro-CCD to pro-annexation. The Chairperson of the committee was staunchly opposed to both, and sudden budget-reallocation meant Evelyn was without personal security detail and a driver. It was quite inconvenient.

Until one day when Devin showed up. She explained that she couldn’t afford his salary at the time, but he reassured her that his services were affordable. There was something about him that Evie trusted, though she couldn’t define why. He was polite and cordial, and extremely respectful of Evelyn’s privacy. He knew routes through the city that impressed the Representative and handled himself with an air of easy attentiveness. They got on well.

Like the other evenings, this one was the conclusion of a particularly long day. Before she could go home to find rest, she was dropped at the door to another Congressman’s house, a Representative from California who chaired a committee pieced together to handle the legality of the recent Texas withdraw legislation. Evelyn managed to get herself an invite to the Representative’s house for drinks. She intended to sway his perspective toward annexation as a lesser of the two evils compared to the union breaking apart.

It was deep into the midnight hour when she left, rubbing her eyes despite the makeup likely to be smeared by the gesture. She was practically asleep in her heels but managed to gracefully descend the steps of the townhouse toward the street. Some rowdy, college-aged looking kids were laughing and hollering as they intercepted her on the sidewalk. One cat-called her. Another asked her to come back to their place. Evie was suddenly quite awake.

She declined and told the trio they should go home and take care of themselves. Suddenly one was tugging on her handbag.
“Hey! Let go,” she yanked back on instinct. Someone shoved her. She lost her balance and fell backward into the bushes.

Then there were yelps of pain and thuds. She twisted up and found the three sprawled unconscious on the sidewalk. Devin, the driver, was zip-tying their wrists, and after a few moments, Evelyn was assisted to her feet. The townhouse lit up with awareness. The police came. It was a far bigger of an ordeal than she wanted.

So much for her visit being on the down low.

does anyone hang out in chat these days? I've popped in a lot and its empty the past few weeks.

It had been a hard string of nasty nights. Most of what Grym hunted was the low-level scum of the Atharim playbook. There were few kills, but it took freaking week of effort to track, corner and slice even one baddie. Since then, she earned the right for some pampering. But Grym wasn’t the type to lay up in a spa for a seaweed wrap – the hell were those anyway?

She was in the mood for something far dirtier.

The lights of the district painted her black jacket with a bloody hue. Windows along the main drag glistened with the promise of what waited inside. Grym obviously loitered, watching limbs and skin shuffle in and out of view, deciding which establishment was best suited to her tastes for the night.

Hi all. As we close out 2020, I wanted to share a heartfelt sense of gratitude with all of you. I think we've all needed the escape from "reality" that the group brings this year, and none of that would be possible without all of your collective, collaborative, wonderful minds and friendships. 

Just wanted to wish ya'll Merry Christmas!  Hope it's a good time despite the limitations.

[[ @"Allan" @"Ascendancy" @"Marcus DuBois" @"Jay Carpenter" no rush, but a thread to start the tunnels hunt off ]]

Nox was still smiling when he rolled the door upon the storage unit he kept all his extra hunting gear in. He had lost a lot when the warehouse blew up.  But Dorian had helped his resupply.  Nox really should make amends. Dorian lost more than his friendship because of what he did.  And it was mostly Nox's fault. But Dorian had done what he did to protect his family.  That's what stung the most, he wasn't part of that equation.  He had nothing when Dorian took him in.  Now Nox had Raffe and the others at Kallisti and he was about to ruin it all by dying in the tunnels.  The darkness pulled on him.  The shadows of his mind tried to pull him in.  It latched on to his depression and pulled so hard.  So deep.  It ached to have him in their grasp, but Nox intended to deny them that.  Deny them the power he gave the hoard.

The memories of the night shared with Raffe kept him smiling.  Kept him from falling into the darkness.  And the morning's farewell had been much longer than had been planned.  Not that Nox regretted it.  He wasn't on a timetable -- not really.

But it was those memories that kept Nox afloat amidst the darkness.  He held Raffe in his heart and mind as he gathered all the things he needed for the hunt.

He only had so many preprogrammed land warriors, but Nox checked them all before stuffing them on top of the gear in his bag.  Salvation and Damnation lay at the bottom, ready to be equipped once inside the tunnels.  The gun and survival knife were there only in case of an emergency.  Nox had no intentions of actually brandishing a weapon in the tunnels.  At least not a gun that could bounce bullets everywhere.  His crossbow lay in the bag, and Nox thought how cool would it be to have it attached to his arm like some sort of mechanical superhero.  But then he'd lose the use of a hand and that wasn't optimal either.  There were only so many bolts, and not good for a hoard.  But best for hitting an Oni in the eye.  At least that was the shot it was mostly used for.  

The most helpful things in the bag were his vials of items strapped to an old ammo sling.  Each vial contained various elements to aid in destroying creatures.  Several vials were filled with homemade napalm that when thrown would splatter and with the use of his ability to create a near-unstoppable fire.  Other things like pellets, and broken glass, and even a few vials of baby powder.  The tools meant to enhance his ability and prolong his fighting in the tunnels. They each had a use, and each one he'd field-tested before in the tunnels.  Granted he'd never been accompanied before while using them.  They too might cause too much issue with too many people coming.

His bag was packed, Nox checked that the software on his wallet was working and up to date.  All the maps loaded and hooked into his own land warriors which sat happily on the bridge of his nose taking in all the data.  Nox wished Sage was around for tech back up but it was what it was.  He hadn't heard from him in a while.  It was starting to worry him.  But he was with Aiden, they both had to be okay.

The last thing Nox packed in the bag were half a dozen repeaters.  They wouldn't cover the whole length of what Nox hopped to travel, but as he went deeper he intended to provide as much internet for as long as he possibly could.  That way if they got lost or needed help someone could get a call out for help.  Even if it was too late.

Now the only thing Nox had to worry about was how long he was going to survive in the tunnels with an untrained group of monster hunters...

[[ Not sure if you wanted to have a meeting beforehand, or jump right into the fun...  and no rush, just setting up for the thread when ya'll are ready ]]

Hi all,
I am in need of motivation to exercise. I'm going to sign up for a virtual "Race-at-your-own-pace," with a Hades theme. You take as much time as you want to complete a certain number of miles, either by run, walk, or bike, and log your distance. Once you accumulate 36.1 miles, you get your 'reward' which in this case is a kick-butt Hades-theme medal and shirt (priced separately). International orders are allowed for a small fee. 

I thought it might be fun if someone wanted to join me. We could start on the same date and root each other on. Maybe try to get it all done before Jan 1? 

here is the link. Check it out and post here if anyone is interested.

The offices that filled the interior of the Kremlin’s executive building were busy as usual. Nikolai was a regular sight on a daily basis, and his presence made little stir beyond the trailing eyes of employees and salutes of military or security officers. Everyone was immaculately dressed: even the humblest of workers wore uniform or business professional suits. The standard elevated the entire department, and those working in the Executive Office of the Ascendancy were compensated handsomely for their station. It was a privilege to work there.

Business with his Deputy-Consul Chief of Staff, Viktor Stepanovich concluded, and the man splintered his direction away from the Ascendancy just as the latter turned to enter the wing devoted to government engagement, propaganda, and interdominance relations.

He passed the worker stationed near the entrance desk with a polite smile and quick inquiry into the state of her new puppy, pleading that she bring the animal for a visit sometime. Nikolai loved dogs, the greater and grander the better, but this life did not seem to allow the luxury of a pet. She promised to do so soon, and Nik proceeded through the wing to the executive offices in the back. 

He continued the charming intrusion along the way, gesturing or politely greeting those who caught his eye. He seemed to be able to remember everyone by name and include some small insight into their lives. Finally, he stopped, “Is Aleksandrova in?” he asked.