01-19-2019, 05:14 PM
Evelyn wore a brave smile. He recognized it only because it mirrored his own. Helicopter rides were his least favored mode of transportation. Thankfully, the noise of churning engines drowned the sound of his beating heart. She wasn’t afraid as the doors locked them within the metal cage. Eyes lit with the fascinated excitement, she peered out the window with roaming awe for the world below. Nik saw it all before. His hands clenched in his lap, instead, and his gaze studied his knees. It would be over soon, this hurling through the air with not but slim blades keeping them from a thunderous crash.
Decades previously, a life lived in a Siberian Datsan, the Lamas gave him the means to center on the uniformity of reality he constructed entirely within. That practice honed by years of meditation, study and determination perfected the craft of channeling long before the remainder of the world sparked. For all the obstacle mastering those techniques posed, and the decades of time to practice and perfect the foundation that became Nikolai’s ascension over mankind, the art utterly failed him now. Maybe he should order the helicopter to land. Anywhere. Hospital pads, rooftops, the street.
Evelyn’s chatter filled the earphones. Her excitement lifted his gaze momentarily, but inevitably the horizon pulled. His heart fluttered, then the line of the planet blurred and he was sure the seat was falling out from beneath him. Chest tight, throat dry. He couldn't breathe... This plan wasn’t going to work. The reason he abandoned the daily helicopter commute in the first place was from the toll extracted. Foolish, weak minded! This was all in his head!
A hand clenched upon his. The arm pulled aside, he followed the line of his own sleeve to Evelyn’s. Her gaze locked like an anchor, telling him to only look at her. Astonishingly beautiful. Wise beyond her years. Shrewd intelligence tempered with kindness. He swallowed and made himself look only at her until the helicopter reached solid ground again and the curse of the air dispelled. Seconds passed to minutes.
The doors opened and just before releasing her hand, he nodded with relief, Thank you.
Solid ground swelled beneath his feet and within a few steps, resolve returned. The horizon was appropriately low, and in place of the curvature of the earth rolled an expansive grounds of a flat estate. A year ago, he never thought he’d return here. The Atharim were consistently increasing their aggression against him, and it was felt his safety was exponentially increased by residing in the Kremlin fortress full time. He hadn’t minded the move, preferred it actually once it was known he would no longer require the helicopter commute, but the decision was made in an entirely different world from today.
Their path carried them from the landing pad to the house proper. Other than the pilots and requisite security presence, they were essentially alone. In this private bubble, he captured her hand in his and led her inside.
Decades previously, a life lived in a Siberian Datsan, the Lamas gave him the means to center on the uniformity of reality he constructed entirely within. That practice honed by years of meditation, study and determination perfected the craft of channeling long before the remainder of the world sparked. For all the obstacle mastering those techniques posed, and the decades of time to practice and perfect the foundation that became Nikolai’s ascension over mankind, the art utterly failed him now. Maybe he should order the helicopter to land. Anywhere. Hospital pads, rooftops, the street.
Evelyn’s chatter filled the earphones. Her excitement lifted his gaze momentarily, but inevitably the horizon pulled. His heart fluttered, then the line of the planet blurred and he was sure the seat was falling out from beneath him. Chest tight, throat dry. He couldn't breathe... This plan wasn’t going to work. The reason he abandoned the daily helicopter commute in the first place was from the toll extracted. Foolish, weak minded! This was all in his head!
A hand clenched upon his. The arm pulled aside, he followed the line of his own sleeve to Evelyn’s. Her gaze locked like an anchor, telling him to only look at her. Astonishingly beautiful. Wise beyond her years. Shrewd intelligence tempered with kindness. He swallowed and made himself look only at her until the helicopter reached solid ground again and the curse of the air dispelled. Seconds passed to minutes.
The doors opened and just before releasing her hand, he nodded with relief, Thank you.
Solid ground swelled beneath his feet and within a few steps, resolve returned. The horizon was appropriately low, and in place of the curvature of the earth rolled an expansive grounds of a flat estate. A year ago, he never thought he’d return here. The Atharim were consistently increasing their aggression against him, and it was felt his safety was exponentially increased by residing in the Kremlin fortress full time. He hadn’t minded the move, preferred it actually once it was known he would no longer require the helicopter commute, but the decision was made in an entirely different world from today.
Their path carried them from the landing pad to the house proper. Other than the pilots and requisite security presence, they were essentially alone. In this private bubble, he captured her hand in his and led her inside.