09-16-2015, 08:33 PM
After the revolution, properties that belonged to Imperial Russia were confiscated by the new government. The estates were stripped of everything of value, the obvious trinkets and art, but even the gold-threaded wallpaper stretched across vast walls. The palaces, homes, and gardens of the former aristocracy were given to the public. Schools, housing, hospitals. Or such was the idea while the imperial families whithered into nothingness. Almost all of these properties, excluding the most prestigious of museums, fell into ruin. After the Ascendancy returned to the Kremlin and opened the doors to grandiose affluence, the example spread. Men like Jaxen's father, members of the nouveau riche, claimed the right to follow in those footsteps. Twenty, thirty years ago they began to buy up the ancient properties that were once the stomping grounds of the powers of a mighty empire.
Jaxen held his mother's arm as they were greeted by such luxury. He grit his teeth through the conflict turning his stomach to knots. Home was an abstract concept. A great foyer slicked with marble swallowed them whole. Jaxen's gaze was fixed forward, however. Elias and Sierra were left to fend for themselves in those moments. It was his mother's patting his arm, and her slim smile, that broke the trance. What struggle shook his conscious was never within reach of interpretation. It was a sense. A chill across the back of his neck. For no apparent reason. Jaxen wallowed in wealth. He was anxious to change into his own clothes. To wear his own shoes. Take a luxuriously hot shower. This wasn't the moment to focus on contrary prejudices. He needed an explanation for the last three months. And needed one fast.
Well. Jax could talk himself out of anything. The last time this kind of confrontation arose he barely escaped military school. But escape he did. His father would never actually flay him alive. Not with his mother around anyway. Or that's what Jax told himself as they passed through a refurbished ballroom and into the adjoining library. Irina swept around a series of tufted leather couches and pointed out places for her guests to sit.
"I think I'll go change clothes."
His favorite stuff was in his own house downtown, but there were options here as well.
Irina shook her head. "I'd not keep him waiting."
She advised. Jaxen frowned and glanced at Elias and Sierra. They stuck out in the room like pockmarks on a supermodel's face.
He swung his gaze back to his mother, considering her a moment. "He can fucking wait."
Jax said. "I'll be back soon."
He left to find a shower and change of clothes.
Irina's slim smile gave away nothing of her thoughts, but the gleam in her eye found her son's defiance unsurprising. Without missing a beat, she turned to her guests. "Wine? Cappuccino? What would you like?"
She waved a hand and embraced a sensor on a side table requesting a variety of food and drink that should suffice the pickiest of eaters.
As she sat, she crossed her legs and draped her arms along the ridge of the sofa curling behind her. "So how did you come to meet my son? Other than the mysterious 'saving of his life' story that he mentioned."
Her inquiry was innocent, but the point in her gaze upon theirs suggested intrusion. If she was disturbed by Sierra's golden irises, she didn't blink from their glare.
With Irina Marveet
![[Image: f83bbdb1-5a19-4088-8d14-5668bcfb4519_zpsdht42szx.jpg]](http://i1334.photobucket.com/albums/w643/thefirstage/f83bbdb1-5a19-4088-8d14-5668bcfb4519_zpsdht42szx.jpg)
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Sep 19 2015, 05:50 PM.
Jaxen held his mother's arm as they were greeted by such luxury. He grit his teeth through the conflict turning his stomach to knots. Home was an abstract concept. A great foyer slicked with marble swallowed them whole. Jaxen's gaze was fixed forward, however. Elias and Sierra were left to fend for themselves in those moments. It was his mother's patting his arm, and her slim smile, that broke the trance. What struggle shook his conscious was never within reach of interpretation. It was a sense. A chill across the back of his neck. For no apparent reason. Jaxen wallowed in wealth. He was anxious to change into his own clothes. To wear his own shoes. Take a luxuriously hot shower. This wasn't the moment to focus on contrary prejudices. He needed an explanation for the last three months. And needed one fast.
Well. Jax could talk himself out of anything. The last time this kind of confrontation arose he barely escaped military school. But escape he did. His father would never actually flay him alive. Not with his mother around anyway. Or that's what Jax told himself as they passed through a refurbished ballroom and into the adjoining library. Irina swept around a series of tufted leather couches and pointed out places for her guests to sit.
"I think I'll go change clothes."
His favorite stuff was in his own house downtown, but there were options here as well.
Irina shook her head. "I'd not keep him waiting."
She advised. Jaxen frowned and glanced at Elias and Sierra. They stuck out in the room like pockmarks on a supermodel's face.
He swung his gaze back to his mother, considering her a moment. "He can fucking wait."
Jax said. "I'll be back soon."
He left to find a shower and change of clothes.
Irina's slim smile gave away nothing of her thoughts, but the gleam in her eye found her son's defiance unsurprising. Without missing a beat, she turned to her guests. "Wine? Cappuccino? What would you like?"
She waved a hand and embraced a sensor on a side table requesting a variety of food and drink that should suffice the pickiest of eaters.
As she sat, she crossed her legs and draped her arms along the ridge of the sofa curling behind her. "So how did you come to meet my son? Other than the mysterious 'saving of his life' story that he mentioned."
Her inquiry was innocent, but the point in her gaze upon theirs suggested intrusion. If she was disturbed by Sierra's golden irises, she didn't blink from their glare.
With Irina Marveet
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Sep 19 2015, 05:50 PM.