11-03-2014, 07:38 PM
Nikolai was not in the best of moods when he returned to Moscow. He hated the clandestine nature of the past day. He understood the need for it. The Ascendancy was not an executioner and he certainly didn't jet around Europe acting as one. He'd contemplated the situation even as he ducked beneath the whirling blades of his helicopter. After everything he'd accomplished, he could not yet be who he was in the open. Perhaps that was the wrongness crimping the corners of his mind. The world deserved to know who he really was. He deserved to show them. It had been a long time since his patience had thinned so.
He'd returned to one of his private residences outside Moscow. This particular estate was once the home to the famous presidents of Russia - himself included - until his official address was exchanged for the towers of the Kremlin. Living souls that were not of his government were so much as permitted to breathe within a mile of the gates. Yet the privacy he often yearned for was not as comforting as he'd hoped.
He felt little better the next day despite the night of good sleep. Power danced on his fingertips while he prepared for the day. Every little gesture he carried out with it as he had not done in twenty years. Before inauguration into the presidency, he'd tied his own tie with not but the will of sheer thought alone and smiled smug into the mirror when it was perfectly set. He'd gone on to carry out far greater tasks since, but the symbolism in its simplicity remained.
The memory led him to believe that the trigger for his mood was Valdir himself. Not the man's death. That wasn't so much as regrettable. But the presence of the power itself wielded through another vessel. And Valdir had been a massive conduit.
Such, from midair on his way to the Kremlin, Nikolai sent the order to his staff to call for Marcus DuBois. it was time to deal with yet another notable tool at his disposal. Hopefully, the meeting would end better for Marcus than it had for Valdir.
He'd returned to one of his private residences outside Moscow. This particular estate was once the home to the famous presidents of Russia - himself included - until his official address was exchanged for the towers of the Kremlin. Living souls that were not of his government were so much as permitted to breathe within a mile of the gates. Yet the privacy he often yearned for was not as comforting as he'd hoped.
He felt little better the next day despite the night of good sleep. Power danced on his fingertips while he prepared for the day. Every little gesture he carried out with it as he had not done in twenty years. Before inauguration into the presidency, he'd tied his own tie with not but the will of sheer thought alone and smiled smug into the mirror when it was perfectly set. He'd gone on to carry out far greater tasks since, but the symbolism in its simplicity remained.
The memory led him to believe that the trigger for his mood was Valdir himself. Not the man's death. That wasn't so much as regrettable. But the presence of the power itself wielded through another vessel. And Valdir had been a massive conduit.
Such, from midair on his way to the Kremlin, Nikolai sent the order to his staff to call for Marcus DuBois. it was time to deal with yet another notable tool at his disposal. Hopefully, the meeting would end better for Marcus than it had for Valdir.