A couple of years ago, Asc and I were talking about prophecies in the WOT. It was one of the cooler elements of RJ's world building, giving hints to plot points or character arcs. We wanted to bring something like that to FA. I sent an email to many pcs asking if there was any prophetic imagery that they wanted to associate with their pcs. Many responded, but of course, I didn't keep track of who sent what. Moreover, many came from now inactive pcs.

So I am putting together a new list. This list will be for any prophetic character to use. For example, if Xander meets your pc, he might see elements from this list (should Nox decide to go that route.) Dreamers (like Thal) or Valeriya also may see some of them too. 

And wolfkin might be able see visions like Perrin did. The sky opened up and he saw images of his friends or others. He's the only wolfkin we got a POV from. But it could have been Taveren too. Asc will need to weigh in here.

Currently, the active potentially prophetic pcs are:

• Valeriya (Scryer)
  
• Thalia Minton (Dreamer)
  
• Xander (Min Auras)
  
• Tenzin Dolma (Wolfkin)
  
• Sierra Lupita (Wolflin)
  
• Tristan Úlfarsson (Wolfkin)
  
• Elyse Andersen (Wolfkin)
  
• Calvin Johnson (Wolfkin)
  
• Rowan Finnegan (Prophet)
  
• Vena Shah (Prophet)
  

1. Twin serpents, identical battling, each other's tail in their mouths- Regus, Ascendancy
   
2. A living man in front of a tomb, seeking help from the dead- Regus
   
3. A man and woman amid ancient towering trees, blue and green eyes staring at something in their hands.- Regus, Valeriya
   

Lih slipped away, removing himself from the medical orderly’s presence and walked into the lift. 

He pulled out a silver hip flask. It was engraved with the name “Vitya”. He took a swig and was screwing up the cap when a voice from behind him said, “third floor". He walked down the lines of rooms and found Costa sitting in bed.

“Everything good here?” Lih asked. He was unhappy with the fact that Costa had stayed behind in the hospital. Dorian was a fine cop, but Lih wasn’t used to him being in charge. Costa had always been his mentor, his partner, since the foundation of Lih’s academy training. Dorian would take a little getting used to.

"Hey kiddo. You okay?" Costa reached a hand out. "Gimme somma that."

“Yup, I’m fine.” he said, wiping his mouth and handing the hip flask to Costa. “Fine."

Costa took a hefty slug.

“I don’t think Lena would approve."

“Why, we’re partners, Lih. You don’t fuss over me like Lena.” Another swig. "So… domovoi… you think it’s good? A place for us?"

“Trust me, it's medicinal,” Lih said, his smile as appealing as his heart shaped face.

Costa had a gift in his ability to say wrong things at the right time to relieve most awkward situations, or at least make it less awkward for Lih.

“As for the domovoi, I don’t know. But this waiting makes me nervous,” Lih nodded at the flask. “Any of that going spare?”

Costa laughed. 

"Nah kid. No waste here." Another swig. Costa looked at the flask. "Listen. You popped your cherry. For me." A look. "I know it's tough. But… just talk to me when you need. K? You saved me. Lena will be yours forever. So will the kids. You just remember, Vic. It was the right call.”

Lih’s face reddened. 

He glanced quickly at Costa. “Let’s go smoke. Finest leaf for our wounded hero,” he smiled, "I got hold of a private stock.”

He had much love for Costa; he knew how capable he’d proved to be and how dearly his family regarded him. It still irked Lih that he was forced to pair with a different partner. Alex had explained it was so he and Costa could learn more from their seniors in the domovoi, but still… Costa should be here. He should be Costa’s right-hand man now.

What irked him more was the fact that Costa was right. It went against Lih’s impulse, because he’d never broke before, but it was true. He felt it in his blood. Killing had broken Lih…

And Costa knew Lih was finding this hard. He still wasn’t very comfortable with his promotion to the monster squad, and took his duties too seriously. Costa, on the other hand, was an honest cop who’d had responsibilities dumped on him because of his age, his dependability and his good favor with the men. 

What everyone knew and none wanted to talk about was the suicidal nature of domovoi’s missions. Lih and Costa were given the job — the domovoi had opted for ability over experience. In terms of fighting monsters they were the greenest, and their first operation could be their last stand. 

“How does Lena feel about your promotion?” Tentatively. Remembering Lena’s voice that night, muttering curses and allegations in a gruff but worried tone.

Costa laughed and pulled a shot. "Yeah. You go right for the heart don’tcha kid. Yeah. She doesn’t know what it means. But Sabrina. Liam. Sarah. It’s their world I fight for. So..." Costa looked at the curtains. Then Vic. "We do this, son. Because we must.”

A hard look.

"Just be sure. No doubts. Like the other day. No doubts.”

“You’ve no doubts?” Lih asked with sharp curiosity.

Lih reached for the flask and Costa didn’t stop him this time. He took another swig, and sighed gratefully. He didn’t warm to people much, but he liked Costa’s kids. They weren’t afraid of asking questions that revealed their inexperience, which in his opinion made them good, promising people. 

His body knew those names, and relaxed, warming to their memories. “I’d like to know what you’re thinking because it saves me coming up with that stuff on my own.”

“Is it always like this in here, Costa?” he asked, jerking a thumb at the empty beds around them.

Costa smiled. "Bah. We do our best, kid. Thats what being an adult means. You make the choice. Examine it later. But… it was what it was." He looked away and then back again. "Gah, you saw what they did. I almost died Lih. You saved me. You did. Sarah. Sabrina. Liam. Lena. They have a husband and dad cuz of you. So hold on to that, Vic. We’re just human. Baaah… I’m tired of this place. Get me my clothes. We’ll head to the grounds."

"Yessir!" Lih cheered. "Your wish is my command."

Captain Akari Miyakawa, United States Navy (Ret.)

Age: 38
D.O.B: 12/19/2007
Origin: Various U.S. military bases around the globe
Current Location:  Moscow
Height: 6’0
Weight: 145
Occupation:  Private Sector Security Specialist.  Inquisitor, Atharim.
Reborn God: No
Power: None
Ability: None
Alignment: Neutral Good
Loyalty: Atharim

Psychological description

Akari would be a paladin if she weren’t so hellbent on hunting down warlords and terrorists.  Nothing raises her hackles more than injustice or a bully.  From a very young age she learned that sometimes the only way to fix something was to blow it up. 
   
Physical description

Tall, athletic, brilliant blue-green eyes.  She has the kind of effortless beauty that could have done well modeling or shooting up the big screens as an action star. 
 
Biography

Akari grew up on US military bases all around the world.  She was a smart kid and more in tune with how the world really was as she lived closer to it than most Americans.  Seeing and hearing things at home, on and off base opened her eyes and mind to create an intense need to make a difference somehow.  Of course being the adopted child of Marines, her way of doing so had a little less fluff and a bit more teeth.  Her dads were both jarheads which meant she caused quite the ruckus when she declared her intent to join the Navy.  

A gifted student-athlete, she was a four-time All-American for the U.S. Naval Academy women’s soccer team and graduated with distinction.  Akari then went on to complete BUD/S and having proven herself particularly adept at REDACTED, REDACTED and REDACTED found herself assigned to SEAL Team 3.     

A year in brought a promotion to the fairest SEAL Team of them all.  Chaos in the world saw no shortage of deployments and life among the shooters was cloud nine for Miyakawa.  She had a fulfilling career righting the wrongs in the world, kicking ass and taking names.  Sure there were some gray areas but it was pretty straightforward for the most part.  By 30 she had a couple of rows of medals, a respectable rank and a command of her own.  Operations had seen more and more time spent on the African continent; which was where she first encountered the gods themselves.  Well a god.

Involved in a nasty helicopter crash, Akari was the sole survivor of what had been a team of eight...plus two Navy pilots.  She was rescued by a local tribe, Healed of her injuries and later returned to base under her own power.  Her eyes had been opened to the extraordinary though and slowly her priorities shifted as the tribe had hinted at a world beyond her knowledge.  She had to know what was out there.  

Akari retired a full Captain six months after the crash and found her way back to the tribe.  There she learned what went bump in the night and who fought off the monsters.  Ultimately her search for answers brought her to Europe and it was there she was recruited by the Atharim.  Learning, fighting, teaching. 

The initial positive encounter with a channeler would shape her views even after accepting a promotion from Trainer to Inquisitor within the Atharim.  On the subject of the gods her standpoint would differ greatly from the accepted party line and would lead to a massive fallout with a certain pupil of hers.  That would be a story for later.  

Her specialized skill set saw her partner with a small but tight knit group of fellow SpecOps soldiers to form a global security firm called Warder International Incorporated.  A proper day-job.  Though small in numbers, Warder boasts a very respectable and successful reputation within the top-tier of the industry; top dollar for top talent because you get what you pay for.  Now the former Navy SEAL can be hired for any number of roles; consultant, trainer...bodyguard.

The light hit the water like smooth glass, the drifting current sluggish as a dream. Proximity to such tangible beauty in the city's heart was half the reason she'd bought the apartment at Bazhenov Square. Ancient trees clustered across seven-hundred acres, and grass chased the glorious curve of the Moskva river over five kilometres, her most cherished place in Moscow.  

A cacophony of detritus surrounded her. Haphazard piles of books weighted down the edges of the blanket, interspersed with pencils and curled sketch paper. Distractions came upon her easy. Bare feet sank into the grass beyond, toes pressed into dirt still faintly moist from last night's rain. Her brows drew low over the book across her thighs, hair alight in the breeze like some fey wild thing.

Beside her Aylin stared out over the water, face drawn. Shadows whispered beneath her eyes, the cap of her dark hair pulled back severe. One of Thalia's sketchbooks lay splayed on her lap, crammed with pencil drawings of wolves, a regular interloper to her obsessive scribblings since Calvin. 

"Where do you even find this stuff, Thal?" 

"You mean the books?" She tipped a shoulder, aware but unrepentant for the archaic comforts of vellum and dust. It had been strange to step back into her apartment after all this time in order to liberate this small sample, like entering into the cool halls of a mausoleum, but stranger still to discover nothing stirred in her chest. It seemed the fear washed out with the understanding of what she was; a wrinkle smoothed out, a new page turned.  

"I mean the..." Aylin sighed, abandoned the words.

"It's near the end."

Aylin dutifully flipped through, wolves running across the paper like something alive, until the marks became disjointed and jagged; great swathes of angry black. Compulsive need blooded out the image, snapping the lead in several pencils while the grip of mania burned enough to feel like a starburst in her chest, right until the last line faded. The figure's robes whispered ethereal, the ghostly tendrils of her hair floating about a face carved in pain. 

Thalia waited for the silence to thicken, skipping through the pages of her own book in distraction before she admitted, a little too blithely.  "Drawing that felt like it did with Yana."

Grey eyes belied the casual confession by bouncing up to meet her sister's pinched gaze almost immediately. This was a history they had never spoken of, not really, though it had saved Thalia's life. An anomalous blip in the path of ordinary, but at the time too ugly a thing to confront. She'd shied back every time it had happened since; faces etched by her frantic hand confronting her on the street, flesh and blood and impossibly living. Like the face of the woman who purged the Sickness from her blood, made eternal in the lines of ink on her back. 

Aylin's faint frown connected the dots. "But this isn't a person." 

Thalia's brows rose. Her head tilted, spilling hair all over the pages of her book. "Well yes, that's kind of the point." Her toes dug a little harder into the earth, like she could root herself there. A queasy feeling floated in her stomach, as if her insides were tangled by riverweed, though despite herself there was a glow of curiosity too, like she had found an unlocked door and was finally ready to explore what puzzles lay beyond. 

Aylin's eyes only closed, palms at her cheeks, massaging her temples. Her fingers raked hard over her head. Thalia was well acquainted with the snare of nightmare, though neither of them understood what had cracked Aylin so terribly, or so thoroughly. Days had passed since she'd last been able to force herself into work (and she wasn't the only one), the nights so full of terror the sheets soaked and twisted to ruin each morning.

Perhaps Thalia's continued oddness was a weight too heavy for her stoical sister. Perhaps the suggestion of more curious other in a world that had previously been all neat, straight lines was a burden too far. Though who else was Thalia supposed to share it with? She blinked down at the image in her lap; a small grizzled creature poised on the chest of a sleeping woman, arms splayed as though in death. Something tugged her attention before the thought sped along with the current, though she lifted the book anyway, propping it under her chin to display the morbid picture. Her gaze sparked mischief. 

"It's called a nightmare."

A weary laugh spilled despite the paleness of Aylin's face. "Don't be silly. Gosh, Thalia, that's horrible!" 

She grinned. "So apparently these days I'm magical, Lin. If you can believe that, why can't you believe in gangly little creatures that perch on your chest while you sleep?" She was mostly joking, but Aylin's face only blanched at the poor taste, and her gaze snapped back out to the river like she might find solace amongst its waves. Something protective curled in Thalia's chest, the book falling back to her lap. The impish creature stared right out of the page before she snapped it shut.

[[Precursor to Distinendae]]

There was lots of research yet to do but the Vega estate was something that he could do in his spare time.  The place was huge.  The neighbors were far apart.  So even when there was a disturbance there was little to know action taken.  Cops were rerouted on several occassions.  Or no one really could see the reports that were file.  Something was going on inside this house.  And Jerry had every intention of finding out.  

He spoke with the neighbors.  Knocking on the door to the one across the street.  They couldn't see anything, but maybe they knew what the Vegas were up to.  A man in a suit answered the door.  He didn't look like he owned the place - a servant.  What it must be like to have that sort of money. "I'm sorry to bother you.  I was hoping you could tell me if the Vega's across the street were home.  I can't seem to get anyone to answer the door."

The man looked at him and then across the street.  "Ever since they erected those walls there has been a lot of disturbing things coming from their yards. But you didn't hear me tell you that."

Jerry nodded.  "Of course not.  Do you know when they might be home?"

"She's always there with their man.  But the cop and the boys that are all there come and go.  I have no idea."

"Thanks."  Jerry said.  "I guess I'll try again later."

As Jerry walked back down the path he'd taken he thought she could only be Vega's wife.  In order to get inside he might need to figure her out.   But first he got back into his car he'd parked near by and waited to see if to their movements.  How long had the archangels waited?  He wondered.

Name: Gerald “Jerry”Schneider Jr.

Age: 25 (2046)

Occupation: Atharim inquisitor

Origin: Munich, Germany

Description: Short chestnut colored hair short on the sides and longer on the top. His eyes are the dark pools, almost black you can barely see the pupil. He sports a well manicured beard and rarely shaves it all off. Jerry is trendy but not rich. He likes to blend in so his clothes are in style, but not flashy. He has a simple red snake eating it’s own tail on his left forearm. Nothing flashy and can be hidden by the sleeves of a nice shirt. For being an Atharim his body is relatively scar free - except for the appendix he had removed at a very young age.[http://nextluxury.com/wp-content/uploads...-ideas.jpg] 

Personality: Jerry doesn’t like to be center stage. He’s very keen on remaining in the shadows. He’s very good at his job. He’s a black belt in Taewando and he’s an expert marksman. Jerry has a fondness for homemade poisons and serums, his kitchen is well stocked but not in the traditional food making preparations. He sucks at cooking, ironically.

Reborn God: Shu (Egyptian)

Experience: New/Hasn’t sparked yet

Current: When sparks 13

Potential: 30

Biography

Jerry was born Gerald Schneider but he refuses to answer to the archaic name and only answers to Jerry or Jer to spite his father’s name. It also keeps him and his father separated. Born into the world of the Atharim, Jerry’s ancestors for all recorded time - at least as far as the Schneider legacy goes have been Atharim. They have their own legends. Their great great … a billion times over grandfather was one of the first men on earth to defy the gods. Their lives were anything but ordinary. But as with all myths and legends the truth gets lost and only those words remain to be distorted into lies and falsehoods.

Jerry remembered the first time he saw an Oni, he was just a wee lad somewhere in the mountains of what used to be Russia. His father had him out with a shot gun and they were hunting the scaled bear that was threatening a local village. The thing was huge when they ran across it. Jerry’s gun did little damage to it. But his father knew better and he took the thing down with a carefully placed shot to the eye. It was a glorious day. His father wasn’t like most Atharim, he actually wanted to know how things ticked. So that was his first lesson in Oni anatomy and also what the uses of their blood, liver and heart were good for. Not to mention their skin made a good armored skin, if treated properly. But the thought of wearing something so gross turned Jerry’s stomach despite his father’s teachings - Jerry never used it.

Oni weren’t the only ones who had special properties. Dreyken were specifically sought after as were Dranakia if you could actually kill them. That foresight was a bitch!

But that was his childhood - learning how to fight - how to kill - how to use the beasties to hunt the beasties. That was how his father taught him and even in these modern days they used these tactics and it would be Jerry’s job to sire an offspring and pass that knowledge down. Despite his mighty sowing of seeds - which is what his father thought he was doing in Moscow - Jerry wasn’t sure that was ever going to happen. Kids got in the way of work. And work was important.

His father was still out in the breakneck woods of the world doing the hunting thing. While Jerry turned his sights to another direction. The poisons and the serums he was taught to make proven useful and despite his best efforts Jerry got himself noticed. 

Moscow was a great place to hunt monsters - the undercity below provided more than enough samples to keep Jerry’s experiments going. That’s what Martin Borovsky had called them. He hadn’t believed in them at first, but once the man had seen them in action he’d shown a keen interest in him. The attention was discreet, however and Martin pushed him into a direction he never thought he’d go. Hunting traitors inside the Atharim. 

It was the inquisitor’s job to ferret out those who would betray them. His poisons and serums made quick work of that. But in order to keep doing his job he had to keep hunting. So Jerry never took on more responsibility. He was merely just the go to boy for the truth. He could have done the leg work himself. And he did on occasion when he wanted more of a challenge. Because even though Jerry liked to stay hidden, he was still ambitious. He wanted to challenge himself. Find the best poison to kill a man with the least amount of materials. He wanted to better himself, not find fame and glory. That was what the gods did. They were men who were worshiped - and Jerry was never going to be one of those false gods - worshiped for a power that could destroy them. Even if that power was man made and given out of his own merit. Power was corruptible in all forms.

But the world was changing. The Ascendancy is his all mighty power declared gods real. Proclaiming himself the first and proving it with a grandiose display of power even as the Atharim Moscow Headquarters burnt to the ground. So much had happened. And then in all the chaos the perfect challenge presented itself. A monster and an Atharim. The biggest challenge. And yet, those that had gone after him two had died. Idiots at best from the reports presented. But Jerry wasn’t an idiot. He was an inquisitor of the Atharim, trained in a family legacy - what better way to test his own mettle. And Martin Borovksy while a great man had failed in their mission. His life taken from them and the Regus with him. Though there were reports of his survival after the attack on the Ascendancy, but with HQ gone, no news was bad news. 

There had only been a few days since the declaration of the new Regus. The morning was minimal without going to the Vatican, but the rumors were that things were changing even more so than the world outside. The Atharim were falling apart. 

There was nothing for Jerry to do, but to find the traitor and make him pay but not before giving up all that he knows and any who would see him out. Jerry stared at the screen of the man - the reborn god and traitor. This Nox Durante would die if not by his hand by someone else’s he was sure of that.

Sooooooooo... I used to draw quite a bit... Kinda fell out of doing it for a while, but I'm trying to hop back on the horse.

What better way than to illustrate scenes from our stories!?

The current Cabaret and Candy scene has been quite interesting, so I pulled a little inspiration from that.


Left to Right: @"Jaxen Marveet" (being a cheeky little devil), @"Aiden Finnegan" (giggling over Nox's beer), @"Sage" (pointing out what a great time Nox is having) and @"Nox" (rolling his eyes at these three idiots)

Might color it? Might not. We'll see how I feel later

OH! And I'll probably be drawing more scenes or characters. Any suggestions? I'm very rusty, so I'm sticking to an Anime style to make things easier on myself lol... Not to mention FA would make an amazing Anime :3

The house locked up, Tristan doused the lights. It still felt odd to not call for Siggi to come to bed. Just as it felt odd to crawl under blankets without her for company. Mourning was an odd conflict within, though. Sadness stretched out like shadows, but not despair. Her life was full. A happy dog. Playful to the end. Ornery to the end. But it was still too soon to think about finding a new pup. Too soon...

He dreamed of birds squawking on cliffs. Walking on summer-green grass. Of burning kettles overflowing in the kitchen. Random and odd things that made no sense when put together. Eventually, sleep deepened with the midnight. And the dream changed.

Running. Always running. A river streamed alongside. Disappearing over the edge of nothingness. A great cliff. The edge that rushed nearer and nearer. He lept with full speed, body bulging with blood and exertion, but it was the ground below that moved up to his feet.

He came to rest at the bottom of a waterfall. It’s gray misty wetness curled droplets in his beard and tickled his nose like he had a cold. He swiped at his face with a sleeve, pulled a hood up from damp shoulders. Water roared his ears. Stop running and you will be found.

So he stopped, turned in a circle, and blinked at what was waiting.

Tristan couldn’t believe his eyes. “Siggi?” Black and white fur and a thick, heavy tail. Its body was the size of a bear. Ears folded forward, only to flicker in irritation for Tristan’s question.

It lifted from the water side. Gulping down the water with great laps of its tongue. The water dripped down the thickness of its throat, but animal was unconcerned.

It looked at him and shook its head no, then went back to its drink.
A thought came to him, one of a smaller animal jumping and rolling at his feet. Another stepped near, great massive paws the size of the firsts’ head. I am no dog. A thought followed, but it wasn’t a defensive retort.

Tristan licked his lips. His heart pound in his chest, muscles tense as hewn logs. The animal licked its own lips contentedly and sat back on its haunches to look at him. Somehow, Tristan got the sense that the animal thought he was an idiot.

“You’re a wolf.” He spoke. The animal yawned, and Tristan blinked. The reaction was not what he expected.
“But there are no wolves in Iceland.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The animal snorted and started to walk away.

The westfjords were draped with the heavy blanket of night as a young man pushed his way upslope. The snow made for a white carpet, but the path was already packed down by other feet previously trod. Lights glowed from the house ahead, nestled against the rocks of a steep cliff behind. Tristan adjusted the pack on his shoulders and willed the strength in his legs to hold a little while longer. It was a long walk from where the vehicle dropped him off in yonder village, and while horses could navigate the narrow paths, vehicles could not.

As he neared the tiny building, barking preceded the opening of its portal.  The silhouette of a man appeared within, and leaping from around his legs, a hulky dog bound outside, racing to Tristan and sniffing happily at his knees. The man himself followed, stomping down the path and grumbling to himself about the hour. He snagged Tristan’s pack with one massive paw of a hand, tossed it upon his own shoulders and mumbled a greeting.
“Boy, you’ll be the death of me.” Úlfar’s gruff voice growled. Tristan smiled at the dark and followed Úlfar to the house.

Warmth immediately pooled water underfoot as he entered. Tristan left boots and outerwear near the stove and sealed them both within. His things were dumped at the foot of a sofa. He turned in a circle to take it in.
Everything was just as he remembered it. His smile grew bigger. He’d thought about this day for a year, finally working up the nerve to abandon everything in Reykjavík and come home. The city squeezed his soul. In the westfjords, he was free.

“Here,” Úlfar thrust a mug into trembling hands. Tristan greedily guzzled the warm liquid. Socks padded quietly to the sofa. The rug underfoot was warmed by a nearby stove. Úlfar strolled lazily behind. Siggi, his beautifully furry black and white malamute, circled and ultimately laid herself at Tristan’s feet. She’d recognized Tristan scent before the door even opened.

“Thanks,” he swiped his sleeve along his mouth. Cheeks frozen by snow, his sleeve came away wet. Beards weren’t allowed by the strict rules of the boarding house. Tristan couldn’t wait to let his fill in like his grandfather’s epic growth.

Úlfar grunted as he sank into a rocker. The two silently measured one another meanwhile. The creak of the chair the only sound between them. Except maybe for the thudding of Siggi’s tail happily wagging against his leg. Tristan couldn’t help but smile. The old hound (Úlfar; not Siggi, she was barely grown) was as unimpressed as ever. Better yet, he looked exactly the same. It’d been near a year this time, but it was like the man barely aged. Or perhaps was frozen permanently in his late 60’s. Gray wove through his ashen hair much like the white in Siggi’s fur.

“What are you doing here, boy? Aren’t you suppos’t to be in school?”

A tightness gripped his chest as Tristan stammered his best answer. “Grandfather, I-“

“That bad, eh?” Úlfar interrupted, scraggly hair wagging in the motion. He rubbed at the curl of his beard, sharp eyes narrowed to thoughtful slits.
A moment later, he took to his feet. Still seated, Tristan felt diminutive beneath the looming hulk of his grandfather’s shadow. “You know your way around. Douse the lights before you sleep. See you in the morning. Come Siggi.” The dog looked up curiously, but when he made no motion to follow after his master, Úlfar disappeared to the bedroom unaccompanied. Tristan was left to sleep on the couch.

A long exhale escaped; one he hadn’t realized was bound so painfully in his chest until just then. The sudden relief loosened the bindings collared around his heart. He’d feared terribly for his grandfather’s angry response. The man had a foul temper, though thankfully had never turned it against Tristan. Mostly, anyway.

Exhausted from the long day’s travel, Tristan collapsed onto the sofa without so much as changing clothes. For the first time in months, the rest that followed was peaceful. His dreams of late had been wracked with tormented running. Something chasing him that he could never quite glimpse.

Dorian and Cruz had a long discussion just the two of them.  While Cruz had slipped away to the men's room Dorian shot Yun a message.  'Believe to be dispatched - unconfirmed'.

But it wasn't his job to confirm it.  He was just the mediator between Jens Abt and his demise.  The beasties were to take care of it.  Yun's response was almost instantaneous.  'Confirmation to follow.  Welcome back detective.'

That night Dorian chewed Nox out for letting Cruz go into the tunnels alone.  The boy hadn't been told and Dorian's wrath at letting his son find him, save him wasn't tempered by the former Atharim's attitude.  The funny thing was Nox said he'd leave if that was what Dorian wanted.  He was obviously failing his only job.  Which only made Dorian think, because Cruz was not just a kid anymore, he'd come into the tunnels, fully aware he might die.  His son saved him.  While he didn't congratulate the boy, he had reassured him that his presence was welcome in the house and his 'job' as it were was safely intact.  

The next morning came and went with the same drama as at home.  The captain made sure to debrief him.  Dorian didn't lie.  He told him he'd been taken against his will.  And he only escaped because of his adventure in the tunnels.  Which Dorian went into a long debriefing about that leaving out the bits about Abt and Cruz saving him.  That was for them to find out later.  Dorian still had to send Nox down into the tunnels to find the body.  Yun hadn't reported back yet either.

Dorian was officially on the books for looking into Vaia Plus's missing scientist.  Alistair Pavlo - which was the man Cruz had flambeed and he'd shot in the head.  Praying to fucking god it stayed dead.  A channeling monster - that was scary.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Dorian made it back to his own desk.  There were two notes.  One from the good doctor and the other from IA.

Dorian read the first.  'Detective Vega, the informal investigation for your association with the Atharim has come to a satisfactory conclusion.  Your position and responsibilities remain unchanged.'

That was from Yun's people.  IA was done with him and that was all that mattered.  He wasn't a cop on the take, or corrupted by the bad guys - at least not because of the Atharim.  Yun was a different story.  She had him hook line and sinker if she kept his family safe.  Dorian sighed to himself, he still needed to send Nox to Yun.  So many things to do now that he was playing so many sides.

But it was Alex's note that made him interested in the office politicking.  'Officer Lih and Costa had a run in with some cannibalistic 'monsters'.  Lih has questions maybe you can answer for him.  Pass along as much information as you can, you aren't going to be around forever.'

So Dr. Pirozzi wanted him to make a baby Atharim cop... It was an interesting thought, though Dorian was hardly the one to teach the lad anything about monsters.  But it was a start.  Dorian wondered if Ivan was interested - he'd also seen his fair share of monsters - though he didn't exactly get along well with their methods... Dorian wondered if Lih was going to be as judgmental.  

Dorian put on a smile as he headed for the new domovoi rookies.  "Officer Lih?" Dorian offered his hand to the pale man.  Dorian bet he had an interesting story to tell too. "Dorian Vega.  Dr. Pirozzi told me you had some questions about the case that got you this lovely demotion."  He grinned at the bomb-shelter like accommodations that was Domovoi.  It wasn't anything fancy, but they did have the best toys!