[[continued from The City's Dark Jewel]]

Emotion squatted like a cuckoo’s child in Oriena’s chest, sparking a darkening anger the more she became aware of the violation. Even so she had refused to follow Ilya as he had directed Kasun’s unconscious body to be hauled from the pit. Worry pierced but was brutally cast aside in favour of following the direction of the hook embedded in her chest, pulling ruthlessly on the bloody strings until she pulled it fucking free, or confronted its source.

The blade of her heels impaled the stone of the Underground. She travelled down into the dingy caverns below the club, and lower still, a storm the wise recoiled from. No sunlight ever reached this deep within Moscow’s forgotten bowels. No people lingered where she finally came to pause, either. “I know you’re there,” she purred. The storm of her gaze searched the coiling shadows above her head. Cold prickled her skin, shivering her bare arms and legs. A caress of fear she embraced for fuel. Her fingers flexed, impatient.

It started like a faint smudge of light, a trick of the eye that coalesced and grew; consuming the shadow and using it to paint features. A woman’s body, garments in slow and rippling flux. Ori’s gaze burned to drink it in, recollection tightening hatred in her stomach. The hot breath of memory stirred like a desert breeze, stinging.

“An oath was made.” 

Hair swirled in undulating tendrils, a face never quite revealing itself in entirety. The twist of smirking lips; the sharp blade of a cheek bone. Ori never saw eyes. An echo of pain reared to behold the creature again, so virulent she actually checked her lip for the tang of blood. Loss tugged like a black hole caved her chest inwards. Only fury filled the void. Hers or its, she could no longer tell.

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

“An oath was made.”

Her jaw tensed, the distance between them closing. She was on the lip of something uncontrolled, railing against the bars of this unknown cage -- utterly uncaring of how ripping free might hurt her. Ori remembered well enough what she had said in the heat of possession, the creature’s grip enough to squeeze every bloody drip of life from her soul. The flame of betrayal lit from a trail gasoline, a violent burning, now sharpened with the gut wound of the queen’s loss. 

A low laugh spilled from her throat. Darkness glittered her gaze. “To help free you from your chains,” she teased. Her lip caught between her teeth, containing the smirk, but charmed by the first whisper of conspiracy her head canted.

“Lady of Sorrow, your oath is called.” A hand reached forth, sinking into Oriena’s chest like cold mist. She watched it disappear, taking another step forward in provocation. The fire raged, but Oriena thrust herself right in, indignant for the burn. Her attention rose to the creature's hidden face, and this time the curve of her smile was deranged. “And We will have vengeance.”

It gripped her, the loss of the queen's companions, each soul plucked free like fingers ripped from a hand.

“You are wanting.

You are weak.

You were always weak.”

The words stamped like a boot crushing her heart, yanking free something ancient. It rose inside her furiously, flooding her bright with power enough to consume her whole. Oh, how the world would burn.

Agony blazed equal to the joy, as the creature slipped inside.

Continued from: Sanctuary


His head pounded from inside. Like a cracked bowling ball, heavy and unsteady, he lifted his eyes and found the world blurry. Didn’t matter. He stretched outward.

..But everything fell numb. There was no wall to punch through, no barrier to breech. But something remained, a glimmer of light unattainable as grasping stars in his hands, but with all his might he tried, harder and farther than ever under Nox’s tutelage to seize it to his control. Tightness gripped his chest. Fear rising and falling like a vengeful tide. His head throbbed blood in his ears.

Minutes lost to failed attempts, he had to stop. Take a breath. Two breaths. Steady, slow. Even. Focus on the internal.  Slow the heart rate. Breathe steady. Mind calm and logical. Breathe and assess. Cold stretched under his forearms; fingers tingled with diminished blood flow. The pinch of zip ties clamped wrists to a metal chair. The same bound his ankles. More squeezed his chest.

He remembered them tying him down. Remembered flexing every muscle in his body; enlarging the circumference with which they’d tighten the restraints. Little things, like the shape of hands fists or flat, opened that constriction. Even a small amount of movement would be enough to break free.

Eyesight returned with the calm permeating his body. The room was dark; ceiling low. Concrete and cinderblock. Machinery filled an entire corner of the room; but he couldn’t tell what kind. Pipes and vents. A giant tank rotted with rust. That didn’t bode well. There was one door around which glowed a dim light, enough to realize there were few items he could use as weapon when he escaped.

His eyes roamed the corners and ceilings. Smelled the flavors of the air. Survival was the first priority. All else could be determined later. They wouldn’t kill him so long as Cayli was free. That was his only hope. She was with Natalie and Jensen. If all went according to plan, they’d disappear in the Custody.

He carried a razor blade in his boots, but given that they were already removed, he anticipated the enforcers that worked him over were trained enough to anticipate the tool. Many of the best cartels recruited from special forces of lower tier nations. Given that most of those were trained by the US in the first place, Jay wasn’t foolish enough to underestimate what he was against. He had to get free before they decided he was too comfortable sitting around waiting.

As quietly and swiftly as possible, he scooted the chair toward the rusted tank, seeking a sharp edge to shave through the ties at the wrist.

Opening the doors had gone as well as to be expected.  No one was busting down his doors because he was spouting non-sense.  And no one had truly come for anything other than the traditional reasons.

The first class Li had held was for a bunch of children wishing to learn how to fight.  Or displine because of their parents.  For whatever reason.  The whole thing was a fun experience.

No one had come in looking for the Mystical Arts.  He hadn't expected it.  But Li had a morning class that focused on Tai Chi like movements and focus like he used to gain his mystical powers.  While they weren't here to reach this power of the gods like the Ascendancy it was there if they wanted it.

The lore wasn't something anyone but gawkers came to see.  The Oni teeth, the trophies of his hunts on proud display.  Though Li's accomplishments were not really of note compared to most Atharim.  But the Oroborus hung over the trophies.  He was proud and not, but it was a sign that the Atharim in the open were welcome here.  

Gods were welcome.  Children, and women who wanted to better themselves.  Men who wanted to train.  Everyone was welcome at the Monkey King's School of Mystical Arts.

24 years old.
5'6
120 pounds
Model, fit frame
Piercing blue eyes

Rena was the youngest in a family of outsiders. Romani, so, of course they were looked down on as shiftless thieves and troublemakers across Europe. Traveling so often didn't didn't help either. There were others they came across, but clan and family alliances and heirarchies kept them from any real connections.

Well that and one thing that made them even more alone in the world. Mom and dad's dumb stories about the Atharim whatevers, with their supposed job to hunt down boogeymen. It was not something they were to talk to anyone about, even if her parents didn't really seem to be big believers. They just wanted to avoid standing out.

And Rena knew none of it was real anyway.

What was real was being poor. Was being picked on and made fun of. Was always looking from the darkness into a world that had said you didnt belong. That you had no place.

And Rena wanted to belong. She'd beg, steal or borrow enough money to find the shoes or skirt or blouse the cool girls had. Or just steal them outright, if she could.

But it never seemed to work. She'd be wearing her outfit, proud after checking herself in the mirror. And then she'd catch a sideways glance, or maybe a sneer. Or find that the style had changed.

And so there she'd be. Always too late to the party. Always not enough.

Outside. Always outside.

But Mom and Dad loved her. She knew that. And she did love them even if she resented them. And her big sister Nina. The perfect daughter, who she loved and hated, envied and wanted to be.

At last, though, they settled down in Moscow and Rena felt like maybe she could be normal. The neighboorhood was poor, but that just meant everyone else was too. None of them could afford things.. So that eased some of the pressure.

And the boys were so cute. So tough and raw, rough stubble on their chin. She was only 14 but already she had noticed them all standing- or squating- in their tracksuits, badass and cool. The girls who ran with them were just as cool.

And she was dreamy eyed. Especially for one. Ahh, he was something. She thought about him every night, hoping he'd notice her, even though he was older. He was funny and always so sweet and friendly with them all. She'd see him at school and evemtually he let her tag along with his buddies. Poor dumb Rena. Head always in the clouds. She didn't even see until it was too late.

Her stupid sister had stolen him. She was already in her 20s!! And he was only 18. Why did Nina have to get everything?! She had cried when she saw them kissing in the abandoned lot, her on his lap, the fire in the drum giving off heat- not to warm themselves. Heat to drive her away. Nina!!

And then Mom and Dad died and she was devastated. It wasn't that she and mom had long talks or that she was daddy's girl. They were far too busy just trying to make a living.

But they still had been her parents. And she missed them. And it didn't help that Nina suddenly started like SHE was mom! And now she had to see Bas there all the time.

But no....she did love Nina. She wasn't blind. She might get up for drink of water in the middle of the night and there she'd be, studying. Or going over bills. Or just sitting there, staring off into space, looking exhausted. That happened a lot especially after she and Bas broke up. Rena never really understood why.

By then, she had moved on from him too. Plenty of other boys who liked her. But Nina'd look so tiny and weak sitting despite her height and the tattoos. And Rena would come up and hug her, give her the glass and hold her hand for a little while.

She did love her sister. She just...she just wanted her own life. It made her crazy.

And the gopniks began to hold less interest for her anyway. There were others in the neighborhood. Soon Rena found her own clique of friends. She'd sneak out late at night only to find Nina, face angry, to yell at her when she'd come home. Didn't mean she'd stop though.

Occasionally, she'd head to the markets. No, Romani weren't taught to steal from childhood like peope always said. It was just that she had learned to blend in. And her hands were quick. Or maybe a boy was watching the store. She was 17. She knew the effect her smile had on them, how to look at them just the right way, to touch her lips with her tongue- the list went on and on, all the easy ways to distract, to steal or to get something for free. And maybe, if they were cute they'd get a kiss too. No sense in not having a bit of fun.

Occasionally it backfired. And when it did, it was bad. Nina tried to smooth things over. And maybe some of Rena's gopnik friends might help make the problem go away.

One time, a woman caught her and had called the police. It was too late for Rena to get help or escape. The woman's sister and daughter held her. In that moment something happened. She felt light headed and warm, the women's voices fading in her mind. "Please, just let me go," she had said.

And they did! They just did. Her heart had been pounding as she ran home. The next few days she tried to be really good. And somehow got sick. Enough the Nina took time from work to care for her.

She didn't really remember much of it, but the one thing that stuck out was Nina wiping her forehead with a damp cloth like Mom used to.

So yeah, Nina. She loved her.

She got better and things got back to normal. Except for one thing. She noticed that at times she could make people do things. It was funny. She got two girls she hated to kiss these incredibly ugly guys in front of everyone at school. Everyone laughed.

She also noticed there were times she could actually move things with her mind. That came later. You can believe she had fun with that! Distractions at the store came easy then.

She didn't know why she could do these things....nor did she care. Nina told her to hide it, when she found it. To be careful. She had been freaked. And she did try, honest.

It was just so easy tho.

Still time went by. At 18 someone stopped her in a cafe she was waitressing at. A scouter. And thus, she found herself introduced to the world of modelling.

She started at the bottom. All new girls did. But she had drive and ambition. And her tricks came in handy to often give her an edge.

At times, looking at the shots, seeing a campaign with her in it, she smiled triumphantly. Who was the outsider now?

Age: 34

Current residence: Moscow

Occupation: Surgeon--trained at the Guardian. Atharim—her parents were Atharim.

Psychological description: Though highly active and engaging in the medical field, she reserves her private thoughts and keeps her intentions quiet, although there have been hints. Although Nina is not mean she is not very nice sometimes, but the odd thing is it usually works out for the other person’s own good. She’s developed a complex about protecting her little sister.

Physical description: Nina’s hands are quick and steady, her fingertips callous’d from surgeries and paperwork. She has a lithe, toned, athletic build. The young surgeon also has colorful tattoos all over her body, her arms, legs, even a tattoo in the small of her back. None on her heart-shaped face, so far.

Hair: black
Eyes: bright green
Height: 5′7″ (weight: 128 lbs)
Voice: musical; Nina sings well.

Born in Italy to a family of roaming Romani merchants, Nina was raised all over Europe, back when it had been a vibrant economic center. Her parents were not only Romani, but also secretly atharim and taught Nina and, later on, her little sister Rena much of their beliefs. Nina kept her parents’ stories quiet as people did not trust Romani outsiders, and any atharim knowledge was sacred. While she liked her parents' mythical stories and warnings about channelers, she never truly believed in either, having no encounters with anything atharim beyond her parents' teachings.

Having to travel constantly while going to school was tough, as Nina was forced to make a new set of friends everywhere her parents traded. Nina felt truly happy when she turned 18. That was when her parents finally opened up shop in the Zamoskvorechye district, despite it being the slums as for the first time they've settled down. Befriending one of her sister Rena's classmate by the name of Bas Volodin, they quickly became close friends. Bas opened her eyes to appreciate tattoos when he inked her first tattoo. She also joined the gang the gopniks Bas was a member of, and for a number of years, Nina and Bas were inseparable. As she ran with the gopniks, she began to level up her medical know-how and patched up those who got injured as they did not want to go to the hospitals and attract the wrong attention. Nina was good at that sort of task and so, when the time came, she signed up for higher learning at the Guardian.

Constantly tested by the doctors that trained her as well as dealing with the punishing schedule of the Guardian wore on her, but Nina persevered strongly so she could make her family proud. So proud were her parents in fact they decided to go to the nearby area for trade and visit her while she was there. Her parents were killed in a car accident a mile from the hospital in her 2nd year.

When Nina received the news, she sent for her little sister immediately and made all the arrangements for the funeral. It was a difficult time as she recovered, with only her friendship with Bas there to keep her strong not only through her grief, but also from the burden of raising Rena on her own. By the time Bas and Nina broke up due to different priorities and ambitions, she was much more disciplined when it came to controlling herself and acting like an adult.

Her parents’ passing created wounds of the mind that would always stay with her… this was to be further compounded by her little sister Rena channeling. Upon returning home from a medical conference, Nina was informed her only family, her precious sister, Rena had been one of the ‘gods’. A pivotal moment in Nina’s life, which only only caused her to seriously question her parents' atharim’s traditions but also led to many friendships including that of Jacinda Cross in future.

In her 4th year as a medical student, Nina embarked on her great project, a thesis on the Guardian that began as a way to try and determine her field but instead became a critique upon the hospital complex as a whole from its traditions to its practices and culture and all the things that needed to change. Earning her some attention, it wasn’t long after that Nina was allowed to take her final test and doctor’s oaths.

Throughout her residency, Nina had not revealed her intentions to anyone but it wasn't a surprise for many when she chose the surgery for her own career, even as she declared her interests and friendships in other fields. Not long after that, she left the hospital, volunteering for doctors without borders; since that time to the current day she had been embroiled in a number of atharim events even as she attempted to lead by example. To show her little sister Rena she loved her despite her nature and that she would do her best not only for her sister, but for all the people in this world who need her help.

After having completed her training, Nina was rumored to have gone many places. Hearsay placed her in America at the oil mines of Texas. Other doctors spoke of a surgeon traveling in secret with a band of natives in India, posing as a singer to earn her keep. But, as with many things in Nina’s present life, they were never confirmed. The possibilities, however, remain.

[[continued from Painted Dreams]]

The sky darkened to shades of molten gold when she finally dragged Nox into Moscow’s twilight. No real plan pulled her in a direction, content instead to sweep wherever whim took her. The city never really slept, even during the day, but its moods shifted with the sun, and freedom nosed in with the dark. Already neon washed the streets (at least these streets), and soft music pulsed a promise. Thalia hummed along tuneless. Like a dandelion amongst roses she did not necessarily suit these surroundings, though neither did she appear to notice it.

“Ooh, I love this song!” She tugged his hand with the change of current. It was still too early for security to stand sentinel at the entrance, a cavernous tunnel into the building’s interior. Sound echoed strangely, like a veil between worlds. Thalia grinned, arching her neck to watch the odd smear of lights, like sunlight on water, until they spilled into the club within.

We were two patches behind so I updated them this afternoon and it broke things.

The them is off so you might need to clear your cache to get it to work right.

and as I look at the page I see crap I had once fixed so I'll work on what I can

Getting out of the estate with Nova had been difficult.  Nox imagined it would have been that hard to walk away from Aurora or even his father, but he had to do it.  Dorian was no better than the Atharim.  Using him for the the things he could bring to the table and not actually caring what happened to him.   They'd been happy when his gift saved the world, as long as they didn't know how he'd survived things sometimes.  But Nox didn't really care.  Fuck them!  Fuck all of them.

He could still hunt monsters.  But Nox wasn't going to step foot into the tunnels until he figured out what was going on with the phantom memories, and reliving the pain from the ijiraq every time he seized the power to wield.  Nox had lain awake on the bed in the hostel he'd found after he'd stopped walking thinking about his next move.  Nova was welcome and that was a big thing for him.  The dog had curled up at the foot of his bed until Nox had invited him to lay next to him.  It was warm and comforting.

Nox had flipped through his texts and always landed back on the image Jay had sent him.  It reminded him that his life might not be great, but he had friends.  Selfies had never been his thing but life was shit.  Nox snapped a picture curled up around Nova whose head was resting on his chest sleeping.

Along with the picture Nox sent Jay a text.  EVEN WHEN HELL RISES UP I STILL HAVE A CUTE BED MATE.  NOT NEARLY AS FUN THO. [[ @"Jay Carpenter" ]]

Morning had come but not without the nightmares. Nox was grateful he was meeting Thalia for coffee (and cake - maybe). The coffee in the hostel was crap. But at least it was hot and caffeine filled. His first stop had been a park where Nova could run around and he could get a short workout in. He had a few gawkers pass by several times before he had finished. An alarm rang on his wallet and Nox called, "Nova, come on let's go." The dog trotted over and Nox clipped the leash on before he headed to the Old Arabat. He didn't like being that close to the Kremlin.

But that was such a price to pay for coffee and food. That was another thing he'd noticed when he checked his balance - there was more money than he'd expected. And when he asked Sage about it in a text the hacker just smiled. Nox didn't like that Sage was giving him money. But there was a long explanation in a new file in an email that Sage explained where the money came from. And it was a long convoluted story and Nox was not 100% that Sage hadn't made it up. But that was for later.

Thankfully the Artskaf had outdoor seating and it wasn't overly cold out anymore. Moscow had warmed up nicely. Nox sat down and waited for her to show up, he ordered a coffee while he waited, Nova sat on the sidewalk side of the chair and watched the people. The pup stood guard. Nox wasn't exactly sure where he'd learned the behavior, but as long as he didn't bite anyone he was welcome to sit there and act menacing. People walked wide and that was a good thing at the moment.

[[ @"Thalia" ]]