The meds worked pretty well. Not like he still didn't hurt, but it wasn't bad. Well, maybe not as bad. He coulda taken a few more tabs but...he wanted to be lucid. And pain worked as well as any stim for that. Three of his ribs were fractured so clearly he would't be running around anytime soon; jaw nearly broken; Nu-skin covering slashes and bites itching something fierce; concussion that still made him see double at times; lip split in a number of places; a couple of broken knuckles; a broken toe; and everywhere else deep black and blue bruises covering him. 

It had been a good fight.

At least he hadn't broken his nose or lost any teeth. And thankfully, his eye was not swollen anymore- although maybe it was a shade darker that it should be. Not that he'd put on make up to cover it.


Thank God for modern medicine. He coulda done without the lecture from the doc. Her frowns made him smirk, though of course he regretted it, what with the lips and jaw and all. Her look said it served him right. And it probably did.

The Cap'n was worse. Ivan just told him it had been a fight club thing. The man tore him a new one before putting him on the DL for the time being. It was stupid of him, he knew. He had a job to do. And he would do it. But still. he didn't regret it. It had been good for him.

And truthfully, Ivan looked forward to hanging out with Ryker again. No more fighting like that. No. But it was fun all the same. Something had changed. What it was, Ivan wasn't sure. Well, nothing really had changed. Ascendancy was still the same pompous ass who allowed and even used corruption as a tool in his empire; Yun Kao was still out there holding his family over his head; Zoya was still gone; and Danya and Zara....

Ivan stood at the door of her apartment, his stomach fluttering. He took a deep breath, appreciating the sharp pain that came from his complaining ribs. It was funny. He'd had no fear getting into the ring with that man. He'd had no fear when the woman held him with the power, used it to dig into his wounds. But now....at the prospect of seeing Zara, fear paralyzed him.

His arm weighed two hundred pounds it seemed, as he tried to raise it to knock. He clenched his jaw and stab of agony lanced through him. Not broken, but definitely had been put out of joint. The resetting had been bad.

"Coward," he whispered to himself. He knocked and the door opened. The sweet smell hit him in the face and he inhaled sharply. Suddenly he was 19 again. And Danya had surprised him with dinner. Some sort of Persian stew her mother used to make. Despite himself, his heart opened for a moment, allowing himself to remember, to feel what he had felt, what had been walled off for all these years. God he missed her.

And there she stood, blonde streaked hair pulled back in a pony tail, white t-shirt and faded blue jeans. Nothing had changed. She looked at him curiously, her smile fading as she took in his injuries. "Hi Danya," was all he said before she hugged him- and then he breathed sharply through clenched teeth as his entire body protested.

She pulled back, concern painting her face. "Oh! I'm sorry." She looked at him, studying, then stepped aside so he could enter. Pain colored her words. "Oh Ivan, what did you do?" It was more chiding than anything else.

And he didn't feel like talking about it. Not with her. He felt stupid enough as it was. He tilted his head briefly and tried to give a halfhearted smile. "I just fell down. That's all." She looked at him for a moment, raising an eyebrow and one side of her lips in a smile. Then she shrugged, not pressing the issue. She knew him.

He looked around. It was as he remembered. The brown leather couch covered in different colored pillows; the plush blue chair opposite it, zebra print pillow on it; thick patterned carpet on the floor; lamp in the corner with a red and gold gauze cloth draped over it; mix of prints on the wall, some from her homeland, Iran, and others of people or script that he remembered was Farsi; a low table in between the the couch and chair. He looked over at the kitchen. An easel was near the wall, a half finished black and white painting on the canvas. There was green tea pot, as well as another on the stove giving off the aroma he remembered so well, meat and onions and cinnamon and the sweet of carrots.

But there were differences too. Childish drawings covered the refrigerator. And amid the music or art or travel books on the table were children's books. He recognized one of them, The Illustrated Book of Russian Fairy Tales. Another of Persian stories. And he saw toys in a couple of places.

He looked back at Danya. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. She was a mother. She had become a mother.

And I am a father.

He looked at her, smiled weakly, the butterflies returning. "Thank you for...well, just...thank you." Her smile warmed him- and cut him. Maybe we can...- he stopped that line of thought. He was not here for her. He couldn't open those doors again. Boundaries. He need to keep it light. Going down that road again...no. He just couldn't.

She nodded, but kept her distance. She knew what he was thinking. She always did. She didn't want to give him false hope. Her kindness cut his heart. "I want her to know her father. You're a good man Ivan." Her smile fell as she looked at his bandaged knuckles, saw how he moved, took in the cuts on his lip and the slight bruising under his eye, replaced it with a small frown, deep brown eyes filling with concern. Softly, "You deserve some happiness. Clearly."

She took a breath as if to clear the mood. Walls again. Damn her and her walls. "Anyway, I made your favorite stew. It's Zara's too." She paused, looking at him with a hopeful encouraging smile. "Ready?"

He took a deep breath, ignored the pain, and smiled, nodding. "Yeah. I'm ready."

A dull rain pattered the ground soggy when Tristan pulled into the village. The temperature hovered above the freezing point during the day, sloshing rift-marks into mud-veins that crossed the village center. The only road that was paved in and out was the sole highway that stretched around the Westfjords like a noose. A few hours’ drive along it would take him to Ísafjörður, the de facto capital of the western peninsulas. A couple thousand people called it home, but there was also a hospital, library, even an airport. Ísafjörður was a city compared to the village in which Tristan found himself. Half a day’s walk from his house (a quarter day’s walk by horse & cart assuming all went well), placed him square into the arms of Flateyri.

Flateyri was a fishing village hundreds of years old. More trade filtered in and out by sea than by land, yet the population never swelled beyond a few hundred people. Tourists came through once in a while on their way to the cliffs to watch the puffins play at sunset. Otherwise, Tristan knew everyone. He waved at Svant, an older man that first taught him how to tie a fishing line, when he reined the horse in.
“Good to see you, Tristan,” Svant approached. He was solid and healthy looking as ever. He wasn’t a tree of a hulking man like Tristan’s uncle was, but he was strong as the rocks underfoot.
“You too, Svant.” He replied and let his horse loose into the fence. A little bag was slung over one shoulder, but his smile was warmer than the rest of him.
They clasped hands, but Svant was looking closely in the younger man’s eyes. “Look like you could use a hot drink. Come over?”
Tristan would never turn down drinks. They caught up on the walk to the fisherman’s house.

Elyse woke up, feeling Sierra's warmth next to her.  It wasn't often she woke up before the other wolf-sister, but Elyse's dreams hadn't been so dark as of late.  There were times when she was in the dream with Sierra or Marta - sometimes even both.  Stinging Nose always went into the dream with her, and she was grateful.  Marta was a natural to the life of a wolfkin it seemed. Of course, the young girl had much to learn, but at least she had people to guide her though it.  

Elyse got out of bed and got dressed.  Last night her dreams had been her own and she was well rested.  She put on her jeans and a t-shirt.  Looking at Sierra she wondered.  Did she feel the way she felt because of the break up, or were the emotions she felt genuine, or was it just simply the feeling of being in a pack.  Elyse shook her head.  It was too soon for her to begin feeling those emotions. Stinging Nose sent her confused signals, not knowing how to interpret what was on Elyse's mind.  

Elyse went up the stairs and saw Marta sitting at the table with a plate of bacon.  The first couple of days had Marta with some toast, that had quickly changed to meat - bacon, sausage, or even steak.  It wasn't surprising.  Splash lay down of the floor next to her, eating some raw bacon. 

"Good morning, Marta," Elyse said, sitting next to the girl.

"Good morning," said Marta, looking up from her tablet.  The girl appeared to be doing math - and it seemed really simple for her age.

Splash sent her a greeting and Sting sat next to him, sharing the raw bacon.  Elyse got herself some juice and relaxed.

"Need any help?" Elyse asked her.

Continued from Cabaret & Candy

The directions to Jaxen’s building led the driver from the midtown cabaret theater all the way to Moscow City, the so-named business district that in and of itself operated like a miniature city within a city. Where the area around the Kremlin was steeped in history and antiquity, Moscow City was the mecca of modern civilization. Massive buildings, many world-record-holders for their size and luxury, towered glittering above Moscow River, the massive water that curled its way around the district. High-rises that belied the mind twisted and turned, art-pieces in and of themselves. The one that Jaxen called home was lost in the middle somewhere. A different sort of cat prowled these city streets. For Jaxen, the height was attractive; cats did like to claim to the highest peaks, after all. A building that sold-out in 6-hours after the design debuted was also attractive. He enjoyed his perks.

Jaxen owned a two-level chunk of the high-rise. The door itself recognized him as he approached, and the hefty security system was lifted momentarily. Of course, it made note of all his guests as well, signaled the building staff to prepare delicacies or any other manner of morsel Jaxen might order on a whim. Having enough historical instances of similar gatherings in its system, it already prompted him what he wanted. Liquor, of course, was aplenty within the apartment. Fresh food and catering, on the other hand, would arrive shortly. Perhaps also swimwear and offerings of other laundry services were on standby. One of the balconies, like the others of the building, was a cantilevered pool suspended over the edge of the building-face. It glowed an eerie blue through the windows beyond when they entered. The walls of the apartment rippled and shone like they were living entities suspecting his whim and catering to the atmosphere he was probably most likely to anticipate. In this case, it was one of intimacy, mystery and fun.

“Make yourselves at home,” he announced just before departing to change his own clothes. Maybe it was the quip about the pants, but the attire was suddenly wrong for the occasion.

The apartment was arranged such that the foyer and first level entertaining space greeted them. The style and decorations were sleek and modern, except for a display case housed a number of odd-antiques, many from India, but other cultures could be discerned among the pieces. A kitchen was nearby that appeared to be carved from a single, seamless unit. Smart technology was everywhere. No oven or refrigerator was apparent.

When he returned, he wore a black shirt with a crystal-adorned, horned-skull on the front. Electric blue pants that seemed to flicker along the seams like the points of fiberoptics glowed faintly. His hair was freshly coiffed sinister as the grin on his lips.

It was then that he scanned the members of the party, and what he found was indeed, too many members. A frown creased his forehead. “I’m breaking up the sausage fest, boys. No offense, but we have a severe shortage of girls,” he winked as he plopped into his favorite chair, legs crossed.

Oddly, it wasn’t Aiden that he was watching. It was Sage.

The guy’s head must literally be on fire right then. An addict dropped square into a heroin house and told not to touch the needles. He had a message for "Wicked Truth", but he would wait for Aiden to request the powder-room before sharing it with the hacker.

I want to do something here. This ravine is in Moscow in a park in the real world. It's cloaked in all kinds of mysterious stuff and legends. This is a link to the wikipedia page about it. but if you google it you'll find lots of cool old legends. 


Golosov Ravine

I'm not sure what it is in the first age, but I want to go there and do something. gotta be something significant. since there's lots of connection to paganism, maybe it would be better suited for Valeriya to explore, but if there's something of Atharim interest, rune could have fun there too.

anyway does anyone have any ideas?

Name: Siobhan West
Age: 33
Birthdate: 07/01/2013
Origin: New York, NY
Current Location: Moscow, Russia
Height: 5’4”
Weight: 120 lbs
Occupation: Pop Star (previously Back up vocals/bass guitar of Blarney Stoned)
Talent: Wolfkin
Alignment: Neutral Good
Loyalty: Neutral



Psych Description: Deeply intuitive and sentimental, very hard to get to know; often answers questions about personal life in an evasive manner. Very emotional and sensitive. She cares deeply about matters of the perceived family and home. Attached to the people she keeps close. Loving and able to empathize with others on the emotional level.

Guided by her heart, can have a hard time blending into the world. Impatient, has a tendency towards mood swings when running on little sleep. Has a strong sense of self-pity. Quick to help others. Is not aware of her own strength. Has a tendency to fight other people’s battles for them. Can be a little co-dependent on those she holds close.

Intuitive when it comes to relationships, ideas, and motivations before anyone has actually spoken. Hates small talk, especially when it contains white lies. Social gatherings can be overwhelming when she doesn’t know anyone. She’d much rather spend time in small groups where everyone is on the same page.

In romance, she is a giving and generous lover; she expects the same in return. She is above mind games and hates the thrill of the chase. She is liable to fall into committed loves after a few days or weeks of dating. She is happiest when part of a pair, thus keeps her manager close.
 
Physical Description: Below average height, an hourglass figure despite her height. Naturally brunette hair, bleached to a platinum shade. Wears heavy and simplistic makeup, often paying tribute to the ‘Punk Queens’ of the past.

Prefers heeled boots that will greatly improve her height; Siobhan wears the tightest pants and highest heels imaginable. Often sporting punk band t-shirts, denim vests, leather outfits, studs, and spikes; Siobhan looks tougher than she feels. The woman exudes the attitude of a lion, though she feels the calve. Siobhan’s appearance makes up for her shy nature.
 
Powers and Supernatural Powers: Can telepathically communicate with wolves that are ‘in her pack.’ When under the influence of drugs and alcohol, Siobhan experiences heightened sences and can track others much like a wolf. She begins to act like a female wolf when intoxicated.

The pack does not live with Siobhan, besides Ebony and Ivory (who come and go as they need.) The rest usually haunt whatever woods are closest to wherever she is residing. Now that she is in Moscow, the pack has scattered across the continent trying to investigate this 'calling' she was feeling. Ivory, since coming to Moscow, has developed a tendency to wander, so he is not always at Siobhan's side. Ebony is an anomaly and developed a strong bond with Siobhan, rarely leaving her side; during daylight hours Ebony is usually dozing at Siobhan's flat or wandering the forests, while after dark she is all but glued to Siobhan's side despite anyone else's misgivings. Siobhan used the pack in her act during her most recent world tour, thus earning her a reputation as a wolf-trainer and heavy comparison to Sigfried and Roy. Due to this reputation, anyone familiar with Siobhan or popular media will assume Ebony is docile, although anyone unfamiliar with Siobhan's work may very well lose their shit at Ebony's presence.
 

Bio: Siobhan was a transfer student from Fiorello H. LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts. Her parents, of Irish and Italian descent, were both big stars on Broadway; each starring in productions of Wicked, Phantom of the Opera, Hamilton, The Rocky Horror Show, and Ragtime… to name a few. In the year 2029, both of Siobahn’s parents scored the leading roles in a revival of Beauty and the Beast; the revival did so well on Broadway that it went on to tour the US, both of Siobhan’s parents retaining the lead roles.

The first stop on the tour was New Orleans, LA; due to the nature of the tour and Siobhan’s age, she was enlisted at De La Salle High School, a private Catholic school in New Orleans. Siobhan’s paternal Grandmother accompanied the family down to New Orleans and bought a house in the Garden District. The plan was for Siobhan to finish out her final year of high school in New Orleans while her parents finished their tour of the North American continent; Siobhan’s Grandmother would remain in residence down there throughout her retirement.
It was at De La Salle that Siobhan met Aiden Finnegan and the two became fast friends. Aiden, who would later go on to star opposite Siobhan’s mother on Broadway, was the first person to introduce Siobhan to punk rock. It affected her on a level deeper than any drug or psychedelic could have at that point in her life. This was a music that spoke to her soul. She immediately adopted the image and lifestyle often associated with punk kids. It was at this time that Siobhan also became close with Aiden’s twin sister, and eccentric artist, Rowan Finnegan.

The group, along with Aiden’s then-boyfriend, Kyle Rice, ruled the school; as uncommon as that was for ‘art-kids.’ Aiden and Siobhan stared in the spring musical, ‘Grease;’ both taking the leading roles. The chemistry between the two was undeniable. Due to Rowan’s badgering, Aiden started up an Irish-punk band in their parent’s garage, aptly named ‘Blarney Stoned.’ Rowan claimed she saw great success for the group in her Tarot cards, but most, besides Aiden and Siobhan, paid Rowan little heed. The group would not seriously entertain the notion of entering the music world until 2035 when they submitted their audition tracks to Mark Wrath, an American Publicist with connections in LA, NYC, and abroad.

The group, Blarney Stoned, was signed within the week of submitting their demo to Mr. Wrath and Siobhan shot to stardom overnight. It wasn’t long after the group’s first single, High-Ireland, took the number one spot on music charts around the globe; her social media presence became something that was required as opposed to tolerated, and her image was being captured by paparazzi no matter what burger joint or fast fashion store she was walking out of. Siobhan had it all.

During the year 2036, shortly after Blarney Stoned returned home from their first continental tour, Siobhan took a camping trip in the swamps of New Orleans. Much like a horror movie, Siobhan lost her way on the trip. Her gear disappeared bit by bit and it seemed that she was traveling in literal circles. The only constant in that trip was a lone black wolf that trailed her every move. It never made a threatening move, nor did it ever draw too close to her camp; it simply watched what she would do. On the last day, before her rescue, Siobhan fashioned a spear from a forgotten tree branch and wounded a lowely rabbit, providing her a meal for the first time in days. The wolf came to her fire that night and simply sat and watched her while she skinned her kill, then roasted and feasted upon the rabbit before passing out in the underbrush.

The next morning, the park rangers came across a sleeping Siobhan, offering her refuge and a return to civilization. The wolf followed her; much to the dismay to the park rangers, Siobhan insisted the wolf be allowed to stay. She was taken home that afternoon and the wolf stayed by her side every second.

Siobhan named that wolf Ebony for she was black as the night. To this day, Ebony stands guard at Siobhan’s side, through thick and thin.

Returning to civilization gave Siobhan a new lease on life, she was determined to live it all till there was nothing left to experience. Blarney Stoned began work on their sophomore album as soon as Siobhan was rescued and she took it all in stride. She bought a loft in NYC, just 60 minutes from the recording studio and only 15 minutes from the local forest preserve; the group met every day to refine their album, and it was released in the first quarter of 2038.

Aiden, Rowan, and Kyle all noticed the strange relationship that was blossoming between Siobhan and Ebony; to the point that Aiden penned a song on the group’s second album, The Children of Lir, about Siobhan and her wolf entitled Deserted and Derelict. The song told the story about an Irish Goddess abandoned by her divine parents and then, the goddess in question, was taken in by wolves; it was never released as a single, but often quoted as a fan favorite, especially among feminists.

The group departed on another Continental tour after the release of the second album and Siobhan took her wolf with her. Over the course of the journey, Siobhan had begun to lock herself alone in her room with Ebony. Upon questioning, she would later tell her bandmates that Ebony had begun to speak to her when the pair were alone. Ebony was said to have revealed ancient knowledge and myths to Siobhan, all of which were passed down from wolf to wolf. The other bandmates laughed it off, but Rowan Finnegan, who was just a groupie at that point, had believed every word that Siobhan spoke. The trouble was that the rest of Blarney Stoned, aside from Aiden, considered Rowan just as much of a cook as they did Siobhan.

Much like the previous tour, Siobhan found herself in a forest on the final day of the tour; although this time she was in Salem, Mass. The trees and the animals in the area sung in unison, seeming to be apart of a wider web of consciousness; Ebony beckoned Siobhan to accompany her into the depths of the woods and hunt the lesser creatures as the Queens of the forest would. Siobhan could hardly deny the call.

Although Siobhan possessed no preternatural skill, she hunted with excellence; pointing Ebony in the direction of every hiding hare and prancing faun. The woman stood above her wolven companion, who was feasting upon the gut of each lesser mammal in earnest, with a smug grin of satisfaction. She was no wolf, but it was hard not to feel a connection when the pair had worked so marvelously in tandem. When Ebony won, Siobhan won. It was also at that moment that a snowy white wolf showed up, no doubt drawn by the scent of blood and viscera.

Ebony snapped at the newfound male, fending for her prize; Siobhan only watched in fascination. The male and the female wolves each entered a dance, a contest of wills. Back and forth they snapped, nipping at the other’s neck, scattering back to a safe distance after. It truly was a dance, no matter what either wolf though; for Siobhan could hear their thoughts. It all ended within twenty minutes, each conceding to the other, both lapping at the sweet belly juice of the fallen fawn, Siobhan watching in wonder.

The white wolf followed Siobhan as well, she named it ‘Ivory,’ for its snow-white fur. It almost seemed predestined by fate, so long as Siobhan was concerned, that she should end up with a wolf so perfectly black and another so crisply white. It was almost like the yin-yang symbol, especially when one followed the other as they were prone to do.

Blarney Stoned came together for the third time, Aiden and Kyle’s relationship seeming to be on the uneasy ground; Siobhan had both wolves in tow. That junior album was met with the greatest level of success any group act could ask for, but it didn’t seem to be enough for Aiden and Kyle. Those two had often found themselves fighting and Siobahn had often found herself mediating between the two parties; it wasn’t that she felt the need to, but things had been going so well at that point. Why not try to preserve it?

In the end, no matter what Siobhan said, the pair had split due to private matters… She had tried to patch things up, but there was nothing for it. The paparazzi descended upon each member of Blarney Stoned and Siobhan couldn’t deal; in the past, she had always deflected and that had been enough. Not now. They wanted her thoughts, wanted to know the most intimate parts of her. It was almost too much to bear. Then Ebony and Ivory had beckoned to the backwoods of the Eastern Coast of the United States.

Siobhan spent a year and a day with the wolves. They had gathered an entire pack around them, Siobhan included, and roamed from North to South in search of prey and passing down the legends of the Wolf, stories not heard by any human mortal in over a millennia. Siobhan considered herself reborn by the lupine kind and refused to rejoin human society lest the wolves ask her to. At the end of that year and a day, Ebony and Ivory had approached Siobhan and told her it was time.

It was a rough transition for the ex-bassist, but after contacting her Grandmother and parents, things became easier. Within a month, Siobhan had a condo in San Diego and an agent bent on jumpstarting her career after the meltdown of Blarney Stoned. It didn’t take long before Siobhan was topping the ‘Top of the Pops’ chart in the UK and the height of the American charts with her lead pop-punk single, ‘Regulus and Remus.’ It was the beginning of a solo career the likes the world had never seen; Siobhan had taken her Irish roots and turned them into something decidedly American.

Over the next four years, Siobhan focused on her art at the behest of Ebony and Ivory. Siobhan made songs solely for the wolves and their kin; true to her aim, at every concert there seemed to be an uptick in ‘rough looking youths’ and a strong wolf presence outside of the concert grounds. Siobhan felt that her life’s work had to do with forming a ‘grand pack,’ but all of that changed after Ebony and Ivory informed her that things would be changing; Siobhan was destined to leave the continent in favor of the old USSR, the CCD. There she would embark upon a great destiny and ‘unite the wolves’ as no one had ever seen before.

Those ideas were not outside of Siobhan’s realm of scope, indeed she felt she would pursue the same dream, although in a different part of the world. The wooded areas of Russia were reputed to be wild and untamed, were they not? Just the place for Siobhan.

At this point, Siobhan had several different wolves following her; Ebony and Ivory leading the pack without a doubt. Taking all seven wolves with her, Siobhan began a world tour of her second pop-punk album, ‘Silver Skans;’ the final stop being Moscow.

Although fierce in their own right, Siobhan viewed the seven wolves as the ‘seven dwarves’ to her fairytale life. Ivory was Grumpy because he was found in Salem and always sour about something. Ebony was Happy because she was the first to change Siobhan’s life and always brought a smile to her face. Jayson was Sleepy because he was found in Massachusets and always seemed to be dozing no matter what one was doing. Mark, who was found in the hills of North Carolina, was Bashful because he always went along with whatever Siobhan said, and quite frankly, seemed to have a crush on her.

Angel, recruited in Los Angeles, was Sneezy because he seemed to be allergic to interaction with anyone no matter their species. Harley was Dopey because they found her in Florida and didn’t really seem to be paying attention to the matter at hand… ever. Last, but certainly not least was Evangeline as Doc, who acted ever the pack-mother and tended to everyone considered kin. It was all too ‘very on the nose’ for Siobhan, but it worked. The seven had come together to form a family; one that understood Siobhan more deeply than either one of her parents could.

Even Siobhan’s bandmates, whom she had known since high school, could not compare where the pack was concerned. Outside of her career and required social functions, Shobhan had become quite the recluse she chose instead to roam the forests with her pack, in search of prey and any whispers the woods might give. It proved a struggle to balance the two lives, but Siobhan saw her celebrity status as a natural evil. To enjoy the second life she craved, she would have to maintain her day job as a pop-punk star.

Siobhan has enjoyed great success in her solo music career, selling out every show on her Continental Stadium tour, far surpassing that of Blarney Stoned. Indeed, Siobhan’s name has become more well known that Aiden’s in this day and age. Upon landing in Russia, Siobhan has scattered her pack in search of that which she has been called to. Ebony and Ivory stay at her side, but the pair have proved adept at reading the Pattern. Siobhan finds herself at the heels of Aiden and Rowan Finnegan, wondering why fate has drawn them back together.

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.