09-04-2024, 09:40 PM
The way the people were moving was eerie – with purpose, but unsettlingly calm. There had been no alarm, nor anything at all to explain why everyone was suddenly shifting to the same rhythm of silent warning. Whatever caused it, Nesrin didn’t like it. Moments ago she’d felt in control. Now waves of chaos churned an undercurrent, and her powers had failed. That had never happened before, and it made her more afraid than the threat of whatever might be coming. It had to be a fluke? She didn’t panic, but eyeing that closed door – what she could see of it now, anyway – she was ready to get the fuck out.
Assuming everyone was going in the same direction, and letting herself join the flow while still watching behind her, she collided with the stranger at a pace that sent them both to the ground. At the impact her teeth jarred around the clasp in her mouth, and, still tucked neatly into the hollow of her palm, the Emissary’s keys bit hard into her skin when she fell on the closed hand. Though the landing wasn’t all bad – practically half in someone’s lap – it still wasn’t the way she preferred to be on her knees.
A glance took in the red mask, and she didn’t need to see much more than the screaming mouth to immediately understand who it was. Not long ago she’d thought it was Nox’s face hidden under there. Now she had no idea who Wicked might really be. For all his legendary mythos on the dark web, he was ultimately vigilante – not a hire easily paid to a cause – and his prowess rivalled the m’Antinomian’s exceptional skill. For that reason she’d intended to steer clear. But in the moment, Nesrin couldn’t resist the temptation of an opportunity fallen right in her lap. Or, quite literally, in his.
As she accepted his hand the power swirled headily around her, and when his attention was on assisting her back to her feet, the threads spun into him. Trust me, love me, protect me, I’m a friend. The same manipulations she’d urged into the Emissary, and her heart beat hard in fear of failure a second time. Back on her feet she looked up at him with warm dark eyes, like she’d caught sense of something familiar about him perhaps, or in simple flirtation for his chivalry. She lingered close, and her free hand reached for the edges of his mask, gently urging him to be the one to lift it up.
Assuming everyone was going in the same direction, and letting herself join the flow while still watching behind her, she collided with the stranger at a pace that sent them both to the ground. At the impact her teeth jarred around the clasp in her mouth, and, still tucked neatly into the hollow of her palm, the Emissary’s keys bit hard into her skin when she fell on the closed hand. Though the landing wasn’t all bad – practically half in someone’s lap – it still wasn’t the way she preferred to be on her knees.
A glance took in the red mask, and she didn’t need to see much more than the screaming mouth to immediately understand who it was. Not long ago she’d thought it was Nox’s face hidden under there. Now she had no idea who Wicked might really be. For all his legendary mythos on the dark web, he was ultimately vigilante – not a hire easily paid to a cause – and his prowess rivalled the m’Antinomian’s exceptional skill. For that reason she’d intended to steer clear. But in the moment, Nesrin couldn’t resist the temptation of an opportunity fallen right in her lap. Or, quite literally, in his.
As she accepted his hand the power swirled headily around her, and when his attention was on assisting her back to her feet, the threads spun into him. Trust me, love me, protect me, I’m a friend. The same manipulations she’d urged into the Emissary, and her heart beat hard in fear of failure a second time. Back on her feet she looked up at him with warm dark eyes, like she’d caught sense of something familiar about him perhaps, or in simple flirtation for his chivalry. She lingered close, and her free hand reached for the edges of his mask, gently urging him to be the one to lift it up.
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