Sierra received a text from Elyse. She hadn't expected to hear from the other wolf but was genuinely happy to hear from her. But the message seemed less than happy. Sierra had no problem letting Elyse stay with her. She didn't have much space, but there was a couch, and the bed was big enough for both of them if Elyse didn't mind sharing. It had been a while since there had been another warm body next to her. The thought brought back fond memories of Snow cuddled up next to her. And the sadness would creep in, so Sierra pushed away the happy thoughts.

The apartment wasn't really a mess, but Sierra picked it up anyway. It wasn't much. A small living space in the front that doubled as kitchen, dining room and living room. Sierra's apartment was already furnished - she didn't have furniture, and she rented week to week never knowing where she'd be any given week. Sierra's belongings were all in one bag she could quickly up and leave with.

The bedroom wasn't much bigger than the living space, but the bed was a queen and it was warm and comfortable and beat the ground any day. Sierra was a little worried about Elyse and paced back and forth hoping everything was alright with her friend.

Continued from "You're a wizard"

Morning rolled around and Jay showed up at the exactly 0800. He was dressed, clothes perfect, freshly showered, hair arranged, and fresh as a spring daisy. Well, if daisies lived on a forty-five minute nap, half of which took place in the cab ride from Dorian's. Only obvious thing that showed his lack of full attention to his appearance was being unshaven. Luckily, the Legion allowed for facial hair. Hopefully nobody looked too close at how untrimmed it was around the edges. But if he was wishing for people to not look too close, it was best that he keep his sunglasses close. His eyes were red, not bloodshot as death-red, but close. He wasn't sure how much he drank the previous night. Nor was he too sure he remembered everything. But he remembered enough. Things like cannibals and murder stuck; being a wizard, and well, everything else.

He also kept his phone close in case Natalie called. And coffee. Lots of coffee.

Being an officer did have its perks, though. For one thing, a few glares kept everyone below rank from bugging him. And he was able to sit down once in a while, totally not sleep sitting upright, and send their resident wizard a message.

Quote:<dl>
<dt>Message to Vanders</dt>
<dd> </dd>
</dl>


I need to see you as soon as possible. Off grounds from Igumnov House. I'll be at Khram Svyatogo park grounds across the street.

http://variety.com/2017/tv/news/wheel-of...202390897/

A Wheel of Time TV series is in the works (again?)

Are you excited?

I dunno... I'm still in the vein they won't be able to pull it off and I'll bitch and yell at it the whole time cause it's sooooo wrong.

Negotiating her passage from France to Moscow without Eleanor's interference had been easier than anticipated, but came with unexpected strings. While Natalie had been in Africa the world had turned on its axis. And the Northbrooks turned with it.

The nostalgic holiday retreat of Aubagne became a carefully executed ambush, cushioned by her family's relief at her safe return. Duty quickly caged its walls, for a while shadowing the urgency with which she had planned to leave. They sat her down. Her mother had arranged the paperwork. The discussion was only a formality.

It transpired that the Ascendancy had revealed himself.

Natalie accepted that news quietly, mind skirting carefully around the invitation burning a hole in her heart.Of the scandal that had blown her family apart. Of paper fizzling to ash in her hands. The responsibilities attached to her ancestral name tightened a noose she had always been adamant to avoid. She sensed the shift of her family's intentions before the words came clear. It will affirm our loyalties to the CCD. To Brandon. This is not a secret we can keep, her grandfather had said. She never asked how they knew. That was more or less clear; they had tied affairs with Aaron up so neatly. And the fire. Perhaps they knew more of her father's interests than they ever admitted.

Natalie said little. Had they expected a war? They didn't get it, only tight lipped acceptance of what they asked of her. She wouldn't talk about it. Skimmed the gazes of those around her. The light was far off, imprisoned from her, but it had never made her feel more distant. She couldn't stop them adding her name to the register, and she couldn't countenance the lies it would take to build a defence. The trap closed neatly. With no other recourse, she let it.

Eleanor insisted she could spend some time in Aubagne first to recuperate. She was thin. Pale. Heartsick from the things she must have seen in Africa. But the comforts of their holiday home only made Natalie restless. The sea mocked her. The pale sands where they had run and laughed as children. And she had an appointment to keep in Moscow, one she could not and would not discuss with her mother. Alistair's name was a profanity that would only poison her mother's goodwill, and that she needed to retain for a while longer. She had imagined to sneak away, but as it was the only difficulty was fending off Eleanor's insistence of an escort. For that small freedom, she fought.

And so she was in Moscow, as planned. Numb. Sparks of anger igniting and dying as she contemplated her father's silence being broken after so long, and what it meant. If anything. Her gift no longer secret, but still useless to her. Her responsibilities abandoned in Sierra Leone to pursue her own selfishness. Her freedom hanging in a new balance. Outside the windows, shadows hugged the flash of neon marking Moscow's busy streets. She could see the Ascendancy's Arch.

She should sleep off the travel, but knew she wouldn't. Tired though she was, her mind hummed with too much thought to shut out. Recklessness swept her out into the night. Old habits died hard, after all. Any bar would do. A breath of freedom. A night to forget.

Aaliyah Zevros


Aaliyah had spent a lot of time with Giovanni. Ibrahim had noticed this, and Ibrahim was a jealous man. Aaliyah found herself not caring. Giovanni had more to offer than Ibrahim ever did. However, she was surprised when Giovanni had asked her to appease him. At first she had felt abandoned by Giovanni, but then she realized what he meant - keep your relationship with Ibrahim.

So she did. As his mistress, she was still granted some semblance of power in Al Janyar. Her meetings with Giovanni continued however. The man was an enigma. He held great power, but seemed to be holding back. Aaliyah had seen it. She had heard of these gods - and apparently her new companion was one. Why didn't he rule somewhere?

Aaliyah sensed a patience in his eyes. Perhaps he waited. Perhaps he already had followers. She had no idea. He was still a private individual. But he had summoned her. Summoned. He had used the word. Aaliyah had found herself obeying without question. Giovanni had drawn her in. It was unusual for her. She usually searched for what these things did for her, but she didn't. Not this time.

Their first call out was to tell the world the Atharim weren't going anywhere. Now they needed to ride of the inside issues - the ones like the Americans and the contractors. Those who weren't pure and brought in on the same level as they were. They all had to go with any traitor among them. And right now there were two holed up in one place. No better situation than to take them both out at the same time. Two against two was good odds.

Stephan Weiss and Henrik Mantere had found the safe Mr. John White ran. It was unfortunately one of the better safe houses and it would be a shame to loose it and the premiere technology but he was not Atharim - he needed to go. And the American, boy did they hate Americans.

Their plan of action was to plant explosives, and use it as a back up. The place looked like a tin can with it's exterior built out of shells. They didn't know the layout. They knew nothing more than it was a safe house.

Stephan went around the back side from a few blocks away so they wouldn't see him coming around. And Henrik got the front. He hated the front, but he'd do the job. They were to plant the remote detonated explosives all around the building. What Henrik hadn't counted on was dogs..... fucking dogs.

The dogs started barking drew attention to the front...

[[ spoke with jacinda she's using hood's safe house while the the Atharim are regrouping. Yoshi might join ya'll but dunno I sent him a message ]]

One problem with being out of country, let out alone out of continent, was that there were times when things called for his intimate attention. If he had simply been at the Legion headquarters in Sidi Bel Abbès, Algeria, it would have been a simple matter of making his way to C2 (Command &amp; Control) and staff on hand could have briefed him on the situation. The command elements were already in place, the computers and equipment needed to liaise between troops in the field, their logistical train, and the theater command structure.

In down town Moscow, access to that sort of facility was not exactly easy to come by. At least, not at first glance.

The day had started well enough; a few minor meetings had been arranged, and Jacques and his escorts had been heading across the city to one such face-to-face with what he hoped would turn out to be an actual, legitimate investor. It was hard to find many with money in the CCD that could be bothered to care about anything outside their own borders, at least not without some hefty strings attached. Strings he had no intention of entertaining, in most cases.

Receiving a call from an unknown Algerian number had been strange enough, but he had never been one to screen his calls. To find a rather winded-sounding Legionnaire on the line, calling from a rural gas station near Sidi Bel Abbès, was certainly more unusual. The message, however, saw his entire schedule for the day wiped clean.

Legion HQ's entire command and control (C2) system had crashed, just as reports were coming in from eastern Liberia, where Legion and Sierra Leonean forces had been working closely with the reformist forces of the Liberian government and military. A sudden build up of Nigerian, Ivory Coast, and Burkina Faso forces on the border with the Ivory Coast, with the Legion and Liberian field commanders agreeing it was a sure sign of an impending invasion. And then the HQ's C2 system had failed, which Commandant Tuft suspected was the result of a deliberate cyber-attack.

That had been half an hour ago. And for much of the past twenty minutes, Jacques and three Legionnaires had commandeered a preppy coffee shop which, as luck would have it, had both an excellent internet service, AND a dozen 'smart tables.' Effectively touch-screen computers as table tops.

Their initial reception had been one of confusion and arguments as Jacques' Legionnaires displaced a dozen or so university students from their seats, and Jacques had a brief, explanatory conversation (entirely one-way) as to what was happening.

They got settled in in short order, and already dozens of screens were displayed above those tables, as Jacques was plugged into the comms feeds of a dozen Legion, Sierra Leonean, and Liberian field commanders, government representatives, and an old Canadian fellow. Colonel Commandant Sauvage, honorary commandant of the 1st Legion Artillery Battalion, a rather bold name for what amounted to little more the two battery's of Howitzers and a dedicated mortar platoon. But, it also held command over the newly acquired Liberian artillery elements. A man in his late sixties, he had not only served in the Canadian military, but had worked with the very M777s that had been sold to Sierra Leone and were now in the use of the Legion.

He had answered Jacques' call for assistance, and had been training his men on the use of those guns over the internet for the past few months.

Much of the work at the moment was preliminary and reactionary in nature; Jacques had issued a series of broad orders after inserting himself into the gap in the Legion's command structure, unifying the myriad Legion and allied forces through one C2 point, namely that small internet cafe. Initial reports had been sketchy, but a picture was already being painted as recce elements reported in on the Nigerian Expeditionary Force's movement across the Liberian eastern border.

During one brief lull, as his three Legionnaires scrambled to cope with the deluge of information and requests that were pouring through the commandeered tables, Jacques turned to look at a pair of university students, many of whom were watching the four men work with open curiosity. “Is there anything you could recommend from the menu, sir?”


The young man seemed startled at first, looking from one of the monitors that showed a live video stream from a Liberian drone that was watching a column of Nigerian APCs and LAVs advance west into Liberia. “I uhh...what's going on? There?”


Jacques looked at the boy curiously, glanced at the screen that had caught his attention, then back again, “You do not follow the news much, do you? Well, I suppose in your defense, what happens in Africa does not much concern CCD news agencies, I suppose.

“Well. Long story short, I suppose. Nigeria destabilized Sierra Leone, supplying support by way of funds, weapons, and ammunition to both sides. Leading to the civil war there. And they are unhappy that I found out about it. Even more unhappy that their efforts to sick Liberia on Sierra Leone to clean up their mess failed so spectacularly. So now they have roped their cronies into invading, in an effort to further destabilize the region. You see, Liberia is one of few nations in the region that hasn't been entirely over-run by the Sahara. Abundant water, wood. Sierra Leone, abundant natural resources. Things they can make use of once they set up puppet governments. Easily done, after you kill a few thousand people.”


The pair of students, and many of the others in the room, stared at him in confusion for a moment. Except one, a young woman who was nodding along as if she understood. “Burkina Faso and Côte d'Ivoire are allied with Nigeria, mostly due to debt and bribery. Benin is the only nation in that region that is both democratic and not in Nigeria's pocket.”
A truncated line from a text book, likely.

Jacques smiled and gestured to the young woman that had spoken up, “Who is the current president of Benin, and what is their foreign policy regarding conflict in the region?”


The girl went wide-eyed for a moment, then closed them tight and waggled her fingers in the air as if trying to sort through her thoughts, “President Derrick Fasano. From umm...Togo, somewhere? Benin has a long standing policy of opposition to any of Nigeria's foreign interests, as they still suspect Nigeria of being behind the mass crop death a few years ago?”


Jacques flashed a charming, impressed smile to the young woman, “Would you care for a job? As it turns out, I am in need of an adviser on African political affairs. I assume you are majoring in something related?”


She seemed startled again, and glanced at one of her friends for a moment, then nodded slightly, “Political sciences. We just finished a module on Africa. Ummm...what would I need to do?”


He tapped one of his men on the shoulder, and a short discussion later a new screen popped up above one of the tables, showing a rather beleaguered looking woman standing in a pleasantly adorned wood-paneled room. “Mr Danjou? I take it your offices in Algeria are up and running again?”


“Sadly, no, Mademoiselle Karthika Narang. But, if she is willing, I have my liaison officer.”
He looked from the Indian woman, a volunteer to the Legion's cause to bring a lasting peace to the region, and current Legion 'diplomat' in Benin, “Assuming this young lady is interested in the opportunity?”


He looked at the woman, who stared at him wide-eyed for a few long moments, clearly unsure what to do. “I do not mean to rush you, Miss...?”


“Karina. Uhh...Karina Rao?”


“Mademoiselle Rao. But lives are in the balance.”


She froze, eyes locked on the display of Nigerian and Burkina Faso forces advancing into Liberia. A brief war of emotions crossed her features, before she finally cleared her throat and stepped forward, taking Jacques' hand, “Uhhh...I'll do my best?”


“I know you will. Mademoiselle Narang will bring you up to speed, and explain what I'll need of you. Thank you.”
He gently urged her towards the waiting screen, and the two women began discussing the situation.

He glanced at the displays again, then back to the crowd of university students, some of whom were still recording the goings-on live on their social media feeds, Wallets held up and some babbling excitedly. His gaze landed on a pair, an idea coalescing in his mind. “You two. What are your majors?”


Another young woman lowered her Wallet briefly to glance at him, then flashed a grin, “Journalism.”


“Social Sciences. Uhh...International Law mostly?”
The young man was a bit more hesitant to respond.

“Journalism. Excellent. Care to be a war reporter, from the comfort of a Moscow cafe?”
She went wide eyed, then nodded eagerly.

“International Law? Damnably handy, when in the middle of this sort of thing. Can't exactly reach my lawyers at the moment. I need someone liaison between myself, Sierra Leone, and Liberia, to start drafting up a unified declaration of war. And a formal request of aid from Benin.”


The young man glanced at his journalist friend, who waggled her eyebrows at him and jerked her head towards the table Jacques was indicating to, clearly encouraging her friend to do it.

“Uhhh...Yeah? I mean, guess it'd look good on the resume maybe?”


Jacques laughed and nodded in agreement, “Would give you a leg up over your class mates.”


Within minutes, many of those once balking and upset university students were gathered around the tables, sharing the work load with Jacques men. It would be hours before HQ would be up and running again, and there was too much work that needed to be done too soon. He glanced at the pair of baristas standing at the closest end of the bar, watching the strange goings on. Then he pulled out his credit card, “Start a tab, would you?”

Ilesha had left Kallisti with more questions than answers, but the problem was she didn't even know where to begin with the questions. Clare and introduced her to Oriena - her boss. Oriena scared Ilesha. Rafe had been cute. She might go back just to see him.

But it had been a few days and she didn't want to go home yet. There were people like her here. Maybe she could learn something still. Or figure out what to ask. But now she still felt that draw to the monument the Ascendancy had built. If only she could figure out how it had been done so easily.

The crowd was still large around it when Ilesha finally decided to go look. She sat down on a nearby bench and looked at it. She started humming a small tune, something to distract her mind and bring the unique power to her. She let her power drift towards the monument. She now saw the threads, she sent earth and spirit to the structure and explored the exquisite piece of power wrought rock and metal. And who else knew what had been inside the original building.

Ilesha wondered if people had died....but the thought drifted away as she studied the monolith.

[ continued from Sold Out! ]

Dorian's house was a three story mansion surrounded now by an 8 foot wall of solid earth - about 10 inches thick, but Nox hadn't measured it - he and Cruz had erected to keep the Atharim out. Nox wasn't done setting up safe guards for the inevitable event of the Atharim trying to kill them. New weapons meant new experiments so Nox had a lot to play with to make Dorian's house a safe place for Dorian's family. It reminded Cruz of home with the Spanish architecture and the palm trees that required year round maintenance Christian said. Too much for Nox...

Nox used the combination Christian had given him for the side door. It was a 'servants' door, but Nox had this thing about going in Dorian's front door - very self conscious about looking like a snob. The door opened into a small entry area that lead into the kitchen. Nox liked Dorian's kitchen. It was the one room that Ana had said didn't need remodeling and Nox would agree. It was nice. Cozy and warm and had everything anyone would want.

Before he stepped into the kitchen Nox grabbed a case of beer Christian had purchased. There was no point refrigerating it when Nox or Cruz would just make it ice cold anyway. It was the the reason they had so much of it. It had become a game with Cruz. One of few weaves Cruz was allowed to do without supervision. Nox wasn't about to let Cruz hurt himself so long as Dorian continued to pay the bills. He normally wasn't so cautious.

Nox wove a weave of air and pulled the basement door open. It was one reason why Nox liked the side door. The kitchen and the basement were his two domains he felt comfortable in. He hated wandering to his bedroom at night. He chose to most nights only because there was a warm body in his bed. Some nights though he needed space and slept in the small 'servant's room with a twin bed a desk and a small dresser of drawers with no door on the room. Christian had a room down here as well but he never used it - Ana wouldn't let him sleep down here anyway, but it was his own space. Nox liked their arrangement.

Down stairs was shaping up. The large area down the stairs was still mostly incomplete, but Nox and Cruz had managed to rubberize the floor. It had taken a lot of work to put the rubber coating down. Air had worked well in spreading it out evenly. But it was still manually and mental labor. Cruz hated doing manual labor, it was one reason why Nox made him do it.

The weights from Dorian's boxes had been set up with a punching and speed bag sat in the far corner with a ceiling to floor mirror to check out form.

Under the stairs down into the basement Sage had carved out a space for himself. It was basically where he sat while Nox practiced weaving and fighting and just about anything else he could think of to do downstairs without having to go upstairs. Sage rarely left his side which was odd, but comforting in a weird sort of way. He wasn't clinging to him in a bad way. More like they shared the "I'm uncomfortable here" vibe. When Nox and Cruz were gone to Moscow University Sage stayed in his hiding spot too. He never really left the corner under the stairs except to sleep in his bed upstairs or to eat.

There was a couch sitting just outside the rubberized floor for people to watch. Or just gather. Sage and Cruz wanted to bring video games into his sanctuary and Nox veto'd it. They'd get broken. Which is why Sage pulled his things underneath the stairs. A stray fireball almost took his laptop out one day.

Nox set the case of beer on the floor under the stairs, it was safest there and pulled out two beers. He purposefully grabbed the power and slowly wove the ice weaves to chill them. If Jay could see the threads he'd see it - know what he was doing. It would be an interesting talk.

Nox handed Jay one of the beers after opening both with a quick twist of air and tossed the caps into a bucket nearby. Nox waved his hand to the couch for Jay to sit and Nox walked into the room he sometimes stayed to grab a clean t-shirt. The shirt he bought was just not going to cut it anymore. It was itchy and made Nox shiver in disgust. As he walked he asked, "While you were talking about my reason for killing that guy, you were thinking about something else. You think you can manage that emotion again? Those exact feelings?"


Nox disappeared into the room and came back out with a new shirt. He pulled the other one off and flipped it into the air and burnt it. It was nothing but ash by the time it hit the floor. Nox sat down on the rubberized part of the floor in front of Jay as he pulled on the t-shirt. His shoulder was staring to ache from where the creature had grabbed him and he hadn't thought to look at how bad it bruised while passing the mirror - later he thought to himself.

Sierra had sent a text - however awkwardly to the number Elyse had needed. The number was the only one she had saved a contact to in her wallet. Something she'd purchased with major hesitation. She didn't like the technology, but she needed to keep in contact with clients. Work had never really been something Sierra needed to worry about, but she couldn't live in Moscow on her wildlife photography alone.

She sat down on the large couch waiting for her friend to come in. Her back was too the door, her camera she held in her hand while she focused on the far wall. There was an interesting collection of things on shelves - almost like someone's living room. The light came in perfectly casting some of the pieces in shadow and others in radiant light.

Sierra had spent the rest of the night sketching out the image of the tattoo the man wore on his arm - his left arm. It was significant. She'd known it then, and she knew it now.

The wolves were too far away, they were just a ghost on her mind. She missed Snow, and missed the wolves. Now that the weather was warmer maybe she'd spend time with the pack. Maybe Elyse would like to go.

A large tea cup sat virtually untouched next to the sketch that had taken all night to draw. It wasn't Sierra's talent, but she could manage with some degree of realism. It at least looked like the one in her memory.

In the dream memories had been sparse - addled with sleep and mystery, but Sierra remembered the moment she woke the woman from her dream. They'd met before - not for long - and in another case of the bizarre. Sierra wondered how that emo boy was doing - Elias. And if Jaxen was alright, the man had been naked in the snow and yet he didn't show any signs of ill treatment or frost bite. Everything seemed to be weird around Moscow...