04-09-2018, 12:11 PM
Marcus didn't allow the irritation he felt to show on his face. There was something...condescending about her. Others might simply chalk it up to bluntness. And perhaps that's what it was. Or perhaps it was part of being raised in the lap of luxury, a silver spoon in her mouth. Of her heritage. It fit. She had demanded this room as if she'd had a right to demand anything here. Malik slithered, a worm in his gut, the feel of moldy bread on his tongue, the cold Chicago wind cutting through the holes in his pants. The beatings and starvation.
But he pushed him away with the cleansing fire of the Force. Forges were hot for a reason. He raised an eyebrow. Avalon? He knew of her. Had seen her interviews. She was here, now. The rumors from his eyes and ears he had scattered throughout the Kremlin- those who knew they were his informants and those who he used his Force tricks on- had indicated that she and Ascendancy had...bonded. It had been startling, to say the least. After decades of only the most superficial and casual of dalliances, the man seemed to have fallen. At least, that is what he'd heard.
And Marcus found himself truly disappointed. Such a pathetic thing to do, to allow himself to be weakened in that way- IF it was true, he amended. He'd hold off judgement until he saw them together, if not in the Kremlin, then at the Ball.
He nodded at her blunt comment, irritation and resentment now gone. "In fact, you are correct. We are blind about a great many things of which we cannot afford to be."
He studied her, fascination from her brief description washing away emotion leaving him in the calm place of mental study. "Please explain it to me then. If not a battle into submission, how do you take the power? How do you control it? For men, it is a struggle for dominance. If I allow it even the slightest chance, it will obliterate me. Every other man I have spoken to says the same. How is different for women?"
He took the proffered pad as he listened to her speak. He quirked an eyebrow as she took his words and twisted them. Of course channelers were commodities. In fact, they- all of them- were the greatest resources the world had ever known. She seemed to be trying to push for something though. After a moment, he went on. "I agree that channeling is not inherently a weapon. It is a tool. Like any tool, it can be used creatively or destructively"
And sometimes those are the exact same thing.
He thought for a moment. His facade of humility and friendliness had done little to ingratiate him with her. She was not an empty headed daughter of some Privilege or other, despite her sense of entitlement, to be won over with simple charm and flattery.
She was blunt. So he could be more honest with her. Well, to a point anyway. He had a clue as to what she was driving at. And what might appeal to her. "I will tell you this. No one here at the consulate is here against their will. They have all volunteered as you did. Most of these people want to understand what is happening to them. They are scared, frightened of their abilities. Some of them have been kicked out of their homes by their families, rejected by friends, or have even been taken advantage of. Channeling unfortunately does not make one immune from psychological abuse, especially if it started young."
He paused, remembering his own experiences.
"This consulate is about more than simply understanding the power itself. It's about integrating channelers into society without fear. Helping them find their place in the world. Educating the public. It's all still new, of course, but I have ideas for more social outreach programs. We are NOT commodities. But we are valuable. Our gifts give us the power to change the world. If you'd like, I'd appreciate any insights or suggestions you might have in that regard."
The humility was gone from his eyes. Just a frank statement. A job, if she wanted it. He thought she might. He'd read up on her. She was socially conscious, as he'd noted, determined to be more than simply a name. She could be useful.
He looked over the notes on the pad. Little organization. More like observations. Still, there was a methodology to it, if a bit untutored. That would come with time. Perhaps. Or she might be another Ramanujan to his Hardy, as driven by intuition as by rigor. That could be interesting.
He looked up, a twinkle in his eye and honest smile on his face. though showing no teeth. "This is good. The similarities are as great as the differences. It's not often people demand we take notice of something."
He held the pad out to her. "Anything in particular you wanted me to note at this moment? If not, I have an idea. An experiment, if you will."
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Apr 9 2018, 02:25 PM.
But he pushed him away with the cleansing fire of the Force. Forges were hot for a reason. He raised an eyebrow. Avalon? He knew of her. Had seen her interviews. She was here, now. The rumors from his eyes and ears he had scattered throughout the Kremlin- those who knew they were his informants and those who he used his Force tricks on- had indicated that she and Ascendancy had...bonded. It had been startling, to say the least. After decades of only the most superficial and casual of dalliances, the man seemed to have fallen. At least, that is what he'd heard.
And Marcus found himself truly disappointed. Such a pathetic thing to do, to allow himself to be weakened in that way- IF it was true, he amended. He'd hold off judgement until he saw them together, if not in the Kremlin, then at the Ball.
He nodded at her blunt comment, irritation and resentment now gone. "In fact, you are correct. We are blind about a great many things of which we cannot afford to be."
He studied her, fascination from her brief description washing away emotion leaving him in the calm place of mental study. "Please explain it to me then. If not a battle into submission, how do you take the power? How do you control it? For men, it is a struggle for dominance. If I allow it even the slightest chance, it will obliterate me. Every other man I have spoken to says the same. How is different for women?"
He took the proffered pad as he listened to her speak. He quirked an eyebrow as she took his words and twisted them. Of course channelers were commodities. In fact, they- all of them- were the greatest resources the world had ever known. She seemed to be trying to push for something though. After a moment, he went on. "I agree that channeling is not inherently a weapon. It is a tool. Like any tool, it can be used creatively or destructively"
And sometimes those are the exact same thing.
He thought for a moment. His facade of humility and friendliness had done little to ingratiate him with her. She was not an empty headed daughter of some Privilege or other, despite her sense of entitlement, to be won over with simple charm and flattery.
She was blunt. So he could be more honest with her. Well, to a point anyway. He had a clue as to what she was driving at. And what might appeal to her. "I will tell you this. No one here at the consulate is here against their will. They have all volunteered as you did. Most of these people want to understand what is happening to them. They are scared, frightened of their abilities. Some of them have been kicked out of their homes by their families, rejected by friends, or have even been taken advantage of. Channeling unfortunately does not make one immune from psychological abuse, especially if it started young."
He paused, remembering his own experiences.
"This consulate is about more than simply understanding the power itself. It's about integrating channelers into society without fear. Helping them find their place in the world. Educating the public. It's all still new, of course, but I have ideas for more social outreach programs. We are NOT commodities. But we are valuable. Our gifts give us the power to change the world. If you'd like, I'd appreciate any insights or suggestions you might have in that regard."
The humility was gone from his eyes. Just a frank statement. A job, if she wanted it. He thought she might. He'd read up on her. She was socially conscious, as he'd noted, determined to be more than simply a name. She could be useful.
He looked over the notes on the pad. Little organization. More like observations. Still, there was a methodology to it, if a bit untutored. That would come with time. Perhaps. Or she might be another Ramanujan to his Hardy, as driven by intuition as by rigor. That could be interesting.
He looked up, a twinkle in his eye and honest smile on his face. though showing no teeth. "This is good. The similarities are as great as the differences. It's not often people demand we take notice of something."
He held the pad out to her. "Anything in particular you wanted me to note at this moment? If not, I have an idea. An experiment, if you will."
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Apr 9 2018, 02:25 PM.