04-11-2025, 06:19 PM
Zeke wasn’t strictly on time, which was by intention. He wanted to leave Tatyana vulnerable and out of her element in this new environment, give her time for the ghosts to stir and haunt her with memories of the life she had lived before – and how it no longer fit so easily around her shell. Those little cracks would make her all the more pleased to see him. Not that he doubted her willingness to please at all; this little game was all for his own pleasure.
Almaz was not a side of his life that intersected much with his work at the church. It wasn’t hidden away; rather, it was just that one rarely had any benefit for the other. The clientele here was rich or dangerous and often both, a far cry from the desperation of the undercity’s rejects. But all people craved the high Zeke offered, no matter where they came from. At this club, they also relied on drugs for the fighters; to blunt their pain, to bulk them up. Sometimes to send them into senseless frenzy. He peddled in other things too, but none of that had any bearing on tonight.
It was because of his connections that he did not arrive from the main entrance, where Tatyana’s attention was intently fixed from her perch at the topside bar. She looked young without the dirt and threadbare clothing, and he watched the way others glanced in her direction. Everything about her appearance tonight was contrived from Zeke’s generosity. A creature of his making.
He took his time, observing her from the shadows, before he drew close enough to be noticed. Zeke himself did not look so different to usual, beyond that the cut of his dark clothing was expensive. It still draped his slender frame like a kiss of darkness. “Tatyana.” He said her name like possession, a velvety net of safety. Zeke was on her side, after all. He leaned against the bar beside her, and flashed a tattooed hand to summon service.
Almaz was not a side of his life that intersected much with his work at the church. It wasn’t hidden away; rather, it was just that one rarely had any benefit for the other. The clientele here was rich or dangerous and often both, a far cry from the desperation of the undercity’s rejects. But all people craved the high Zeke offered, no matter where they came from. At this club, they also relied on drugs for the fighters; to blunt their pain, to bulk them up. Sometimes to send them into senseless frenzy. He peddled in other things too, but none of that had any bearing on tonight.
It was because of his connections that he did not arrive from the main entrance, where Tatyana’s attention was intently fixed from her perch at the topside bar. She looked young without the dirt and threadbare clothing, and he watched the way others glanced in her direction. Everything about her appearance tonight was contrived from Zeke’s generosity. A creature of his making.
He took his time, observing her from the shadows, before he drew close enough to be noticed. Zeke himself did not look so different to usual, beyond that the cut of his dark clothing was expensive. It still draped his slender frame like a kiss of darkness. “Tatyana.” He said her name like possession, a velvety net of safety. Zeke was on her side, after all. He leaned against the bar beside her, and flashed a tattooed hand to summon service.
![[Image: zekesig2-1.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/zekesig2-1.jpg)