Searching (Radiance)

[Constantine Harroway]

Constantine watched the bar the way one watched television late at night, thumb half-resting on an imaginary button, attention drifting easily from one scene to the next. The platinum blonde woman and the hotel’s owner held his gaze longer than most. Not because anything flared between them, but because nothing did. They were both attractive in entirely different ways, yet the space between them remained clean and untouched. There was no pull. No spark. Nothing even trying to become something.

He tilted his head, mildly amused. For a moment he wondered if they were both gay, but that explanation dissolved almost at once. The owner, Adrian, did not seem interested in anyone. Not men. Not women. Not the room itself. He moved through it like a fixed point, self-contained and uninviting of attachment. Which left the other man at the bar.

Constantine’s attention sharpened there. Just for an instant, he thought he saw a thread pulse between them. A flicker, faint but undeniable. Then it vanished, as if it had never been. He blinked, half expecting the pattern to correct itself. It did not. The strangeness of it set his thoughts turning. A room full of beautiful people, softened by drink and circumstance, and yet nothing truly connected. No lingering cords. No quiet tangles. It felt wrong, like music missing a note.

Then, abruptly, another story unfolded.

A flash of threads burst into being across the room, bright and urgent. They pulsed, dimmed, twisted, snapped, and then reformed in a new shape altogether, as if the pattern itself were reconsidering its choices. Connie leaned forward slightly, interest fully claimed now. The pair were striking together. A handsome man with a reserved air, his thread steady but newly awakened, and the woman beside him...

Oh.

Recognition settled in with a soft click. She was the new American Privilege. Constantine had seen her face often enough in the feeds, polished and sharpened by careful editing. In person, she was still beautiful. That, somehow, made the connection between them even more compelling.

He leaned back in his chair, cosmopolitan forgotten, a slim smile tracing his lips. In all his watching, in all the places he had been, Constantine had never seen threads behave quite like theirs.

[Olivier de Volthström]

Adrian's attention was turning elsewhere. That didn't surprise Olivier in the slightest. The man owned the hotel. He likely had a lot to deal with. Olivier was already surprised Adrian had come over to speak with him. That left the lady. It was also her first time at the Radiance, and he had to agree with her assessment. She seemed relaxed here. Even if it was her first time he, she was used to the type of environment that Radiance provided.

"Not my first time to Moscow," he said in response to the woman's question. "I'm here once or twice a year."

Generally he just passed through, but Moscow seemed to be where things were happening. The center of civilization as it were. Perhaps relocating would be something worth considering. His mother might even approve. It's likely he could do a lot for the company here - not to mention seeing Elin working might convince them that she would be a better candidate to take over the company than he was.

Before he could continue, another man approached and ordered a water. That was strange. No one came to a bar alone to get water, but soon enough the riddle was solved when a woman approached the stranger. She was a well enough known face. The man was here to meet the newest Privilege of the CCD. At her insistence, the pair left to go to a table. Those two had a history. That was pretty apparent.

Olivier took this time to look around the room. Pairs of people drank together or small groups had conversations like their little group. One man stood out - for no other reason than he was alone. Interesting enough, his eyes seemed to be focused in their direction. That could mean a lot of things. The question was ultimately why. The man looked familiar, even if Olivier couldn't place him.

Damn...that's a sexy man... he thought, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer before he turned back to the young lady.

"And you, Ms..." he paused, a smile curling his lips in amusement. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name." He asked. She hadn't offered it before - perhaps on purpose - perhaps not. Rich people games made it hard to tell sometimes. Even if he hated the game, he knew how to play.

[Carter de Volthström]

Carter stepped into the bar like a man walking into a room already half his. He was attired in a finely spun cashmere sweater in muted sable, impossibly soft, layered over an open-collared shirt of ivory linen, tailored by hand and pressed without a crease. The trousers, cut with casual precision, carried the relaxed drape of Loro Piana wool-silk blend: no break at the ankle, no excess at the waist. Not a stitch out of place. Around his wrist rested a rare Hermès Horlogerie timepiece, analog in design, but fitted with near-invisible smarttech that whispered to the hotel’s network the moment he passed through the threshold, signaling his arrival.

He paused just inside, letting his gaze travel without urgency. He had begun keeping an eye for Colette in recent days since learning she, too, had taken residence in this hotel. A curiosity, that. She was not the type to linger long in public spaces, and certainly not one to stay in shared quarters. Why she hadn’t yet secured a private residence was a question with no ready answer. But as long as she remained here, Carter did the same. It was a matter of convenience, yes, but also… opportunity.

No sign of her tonight. Instead, his eye landed on someone else. Olivier.

It had been some time, but blood recognized blood. The years had changed little. Olivier still had that same thoughtful cast to his posture, the way he held a glass as if weighing more than just its contents.

There were others, of course. Adrian, the owner of the hotel and quick to make introductions, as he had on Carter’s first evening here. Jessika, too, lingered near the bar. Her entrance into the Sphere still fresh in memory, her mask from the masquerade was more a symbol than disguise.

Carter crossed the room without rush, folding himself into the circle of conversation as though he had been expected all along. A polite nod here, a brief smile there. Every gesture measured, each word weighed before it passed his lips.

He extended a hand toward Olivier, his smile easy, touched with irony.

“Cousin,” he said, with the warmth of someone who hadn’t planned to see family but wasn’t altogether displeased by it. “Good to see you. My mother mentioned you were here.” He offered the shrug of a man who accepted such things as inevitable. “You know how it goes with the family.”

[Jaxen Marveet]

Zoë Marveet

Zoe tipped her head slightly as she regarded him, picturing a life spent moving effortlessly between cities, in and out of private jets, Moscow reduced to a waypoint rather than a destination. The cadence of his voice suggested Germany, or somewhere close enough that the distinction barely mattered. She smiled to herself and took another measured sip of her Negroni.

“Lucky you,” she said lightly, though the words carried a thread of truth she did not bother to hide. “I’m stuck here most of the damn time.”

The admission slipped out before she could soften it, and she let it stand. There was no reason to pretend otherwise.

“I’m Zoe,” she added, offering her name just as another figure stepped into their space. Her gaze lifted, quick and assessing, and she read him in a heartbeat. The cut of his clothes, the way he carried himself, the faint air of inherited certainty. An ultra-snob, if she had ever seen one. The Marveets were wealthy and powerful in their own right, but their fortune was recent, relatively speaking. This was something else entirely.

Old money. She felt it at once, the weight of Volthström mythology pressing close. And the old one new never mixed well.

[Adrian Kane]

Adrian moved through the necessities of the business smooth and practiced. A word here to a manager about staffing rotations. A brief exchange there over supply orders and a late arrival that would need discreet handling. Between those moments, he answered messages tied to ventures beyond the Radiance.

One message, buried beneath the rest, drew his attention for not having responded to it yet. It was from Natalie about Belizna.

Her update was efficient, as always. Progress steady. Funds being put to good use. His investment was doing exactly what it was meant to do, but he had not seen the place himself since the night she had walked him through the property.

I wouldn’t mind seeing all the improvements myself. When’s a good time?


He sent the reply without fanfare, attaching several windows in his schedule. The confirmation had barely left his screen when another notification surfaced, sharp and immediate.

Privilege Thrice is here.

Adrian’s brows lifted a fraction as his gaze rose, already scanning the room with intent. So. Jessika was here.

He had been present the night of her announcement. Their conversation then had been brief and uncomfortable, and he had left unconvinced. The woman had struggled to assemble two coherent thoughts without leaning on rehearsed charm, and yet she now carried a title that turned the world her direction.

He had never taken the Ascendancy for one that mistook superficiality for substance. And yet here she was, elevated into the Sphere, and Adrian found himself wondering what had truly been traded to place her there.

Still, power was power, no matter how it arrived.

He did not relish the idea of repeating that strained exchange from the masquerade, but curiosity pressed in where reluctance lingered. Titles were one thing, but influence was another. He wanted to see how she moved now, how others adjusted around her, and whether the woman herself understood what she held.

[Olivier de Volthström]

There was a flicker of empathy in Olivier’s eyes at her words. Feeling you were stuck somewhere and had no way out was a frustration. He’d gotten out of that feeling mostly. He now had significantly more freedom to move, even if there was this tether of familial duty that bound him to Zurich.

Zoe offered her name as the pair were interrupted. A smile spread across his face at seeing Carter turn up. Olivier took his hand. ”Carter - always good to see you. Figured I led get some range time in for the tournament. And yeah - I know family,” he smirked as he used the handshake to pull his cousin into a hug. If Carter’s mother had told him that Olivier was in Moscow, it was likely his mother had told Carter’s. Or it could mean nothing. Olivier and Carter had always gotten along. He wondered if Gui was here too, but he had no desire to cut Zoe out of the conversation.

”Carter, this is Zoe - a lady with good taste in beverages,” he gestured between the two as he introduced them. ”Zoe, this is Carter, my cousin.” he finished off his drink and spoke to the bartender. ”Another for me - whatever the gentleman wants - and one for the lady as well, should she desire it.”