10-29-2015, 08:13 PM
Jaxen stepped confidently into the office even as his eyes subconsciously scanned the layout of the room as he did. Of all the places in his childhood home, this hovel of responsibility was the least frequented despite the fact it was the best place to actually spend time with his father. As he recalled, the walls still gleamed with strips of warm wood panels and alabaster carvings. The ceiling was painted with antique, restored murals trimmed with gold leaf. The furnishings hadn't moved from their spots either. But it was the figure in a suit sitting behind the desk that most firmly drew Jaxen's eyes. Although Jaxen's entrance was quiet, the dark pits of Scion's eyes lifted to greet him. Jaxen suppressed a shudder, sensing that unlike his mother's elation at seeing him alive, his father was pissed. That cold anger meant the situation was serious in a way such that he hadn't seen for ten years, but unlike when he was a teenager, Scion couldn't banish him to military school or the edge of the modern world. So Jaxen strolled in and draped himself into one of the cushioned chairs positioned around the room. Matvei and Stanislav joined him, but with more decorum. Mat also sat down, but Stanislav remained standing like some ever-watchful sentinel ready to do his master's bidding.
As Scion examined him, he must have found Jaxen in sound shape because his snort was derisive rather than welcoming. "You seem to be healthy enough for a man kidnapped in captivity for three months."
Jaxen's grin was condescending, "Well thank you."
But Scion wasn't amused. A swipe of one hand minimized the work screens hovering around his face, and the air felt heavier in their absence.
"You told Stanislav you'd been kidnapped. No contact, no ransom. I've moved heaven and earth to find out what happened to you, and while plenty of people have reason to wound our family, there wasn't a trace of your whereabouts. So who took you?"
Jaxen felt Matvei shift in his seat nearby. Neither his brother nor father believed the story, but it was the best Jaxen had. He swung his legs off the arm of the chair where they were draped and leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of Scion's desk. There was no obvious reason to lie, and he greatly anticipated seeing the look on his father's face. "It was a woman - kind of - named Sora. But rather than nefarious reasoning, she kidnapped me to save my life. Given that another one, Rune I think she said her name was, was on the verge of executing me point blank. Sora showed up like a ninja, kicked Rune's ass, and next thing I know I wake up on another planet. Her planet."
Jaxen held his father's gaze but the usual gleam of playful anticipation remained in his own. Scion's lips flattened into pancakes, his eyes into crevices of the black abyss. He had his own gambit in mind, and the longer the silence stretched, the more uncomfortable Jaxen grew.
"While you were concocting that story, I sent Stanislav to investigate your apartment. He came back with this..."
Scion waved a hand and the digital image of a devilishly plain avatar appeared. Jaxen's chest tightened in fear, but Scion went on. "This Voxel identity of yours has his own enemies, and plenty of reasons to disappear. You've endangered yourself and your family, Jaxen, and clearly have far too much time on your hands. I'm cutting you off. If you want to continue to live in your extravagant home, I suggest you get a job and pay for it. Thieving will no longer be an option for you."
Another swipe of the hand and video of the raiding of his vault of stolen artifacts appeared. "CCPD recently had an anonymous donation of priceless goods. The media coverage was quite extensive, particularly given the reappearance of Emperor Maximilian's sword, taken from Vienna's Imperial Treasury years ago."
Jaxen's mouth had dropped open. His lungs so tight he barely drew a breath. How had Stanislav found all this. Jaxen's care was meticulous. Even if someone hacked his own servers, this information should have been impossible to find. Yet his father, of all people, knew his every last secret. Anger flashed behind his dark eyes. This wasn't over. "Since you were digging around in my private life, I trust you found my hack into Baccarat and learned of a little organization called the Atharim?"
White had been the one to give him that name. The bastard.
"They were the ones that sent Rune and tried to kill me."
Jaxen found himself standing, glaring over the table at his father's impassivity. "They use Baccarat as a front for hunting down people like me and executing us."
Scion was unimpressed. "People like you?"
Jaxen's lips parted into a smile, "yes,"
and the light filled him.
++++
A photographer and a hiker. Irina saw Sierra as the type, but Elias was not the picture of a woodsman. With his pale skin and drawn frame, he did not seem capable of keeping warm walking from the house to a car let alone survive a week in the winter weather. But he did seem to be the type drawn to hauntings and fairy tales.
Such as the tale of the river guardian. Irina's grandmother used to share that story to the children. It was local legend, that was all. But yes, she'd heard of it. "In fact, I have. The upper reaches of the Volga river unite some of the most ancient towns in the land. There is one particular bend in the river and on the high right bank was one town, built a thousand years ago, on an ideal point to survey the river and many great distances. The landscape surrounding is of remarkable beauty as well-high forested bluffs marked by ravines that descend into the main part of where the town once was centered. Legend has that a prince of this town, Prince Vsevolod, while camping at this site, had a miraculous vision of a sacred icon, St. George, battling great evil on the river. When the mongols invaded a decade later, they slaughtered the prince and decimated the town. His vision was deemed to have come to life and history passed into legend."
Irina looked to Sierra. "You happen to see any remnants of Prince Vsevolod's ghost or his great evil of vision?"
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Feb 3 2018, 10:00 PM.
As Scion examined him, he must have found Jaxen in sound shape because his snort was derisive rather than welcoming. "You seem to be healthy enough for a man kidnapped in captivity for three months."
Jaxen's grin was condescending, "Well thank you."
But Scion wasn't amused. A swipe of one hand minimized the work screens hovering around his face, and the air felt heavier in their absence.
"You told Stanislav you'd been kidnapped. No contact, no ransom. I've moved heaven and earth to find out what happened to you, and while plenty of people have reason to wound our family, there wasn't a trace of your whereabouts. So who took you?"
Jaxen felt Matvei shift in his seat nearby. Neither his brother nor father believed the story, but it was the best Jaxen had. He swung his legs off the arm of the chair where they were draped and leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of Scion's desk. There was no obvious reason to lie, and he greatly anticipated seeing the look on his father's face. "It was a woman - kind of - named Sora. But rather than nefarious reasoning, she kidnapped me to save my life. Given that another one, Rune I think she said her name was, was on the verge of executing me point blank. Sora showed up like a ninja, kicked Rune's ass, and next thing I know I wake up on another planet. Her planet."
Jaxen held his father's gaze but the usual gleam of playful anticipation remained in his own. Scion's lips flattened into pancakes, his eyes into crevices of the black abyss. He had his own gambit in mind, and the longer the silence stretched, the more uncomfortable Jaxen grew.
"While you were concocting that story, I sent Stanislav to investigate your apartment. He came back with this..."
Scion waved a hand and the digital image of a devilishly plain avatar appeared. Jaxen's chest tightened in fear, but Scion went on. "This Voxel identity of yours has his own enemies, and plenty of reasons to disappear. You've endangered yourself and your family, Jaxen, and clearly have far too much time on your hands. I'm cutting you off. If you want to continue to live in your extravagant home, I suggest you get a job and pay for it. Thieving will no longer be an option for you."
Another swipe of the hand and video of the raiding of his vault of stolen artifacts appeared. "CCPD recently had an anonymous donation of priceless goods. The media coverage was quite extensive, particularly given the reappearance of Emperor Maximilian's sword, taken from Vienna's Imperial Treasury years ago."
Jaxen's mouth had dropped open. His lungs so tight he barely drew a breath. How had Stanislav found all this. Jaxen's care was meticulous. Even if someone hacked his own servers, this information should have been impossible to find. Yet his father, of all people, knew his every last secret. Anger flashed behind his dark eyes. This wasn't over. "Since you were digging around in my private life, I trust you found my hack into Baccarat and learned of a little organization called the Atharim?"
White had been the one to give him that name. The bastard.
"They were the ones that sent Rune and tried to kill me."
Jaxen found himself standing, glaring over the table at his father's impassivity. "They use Baccarat as a front for hunting down people like me and executing us."
Scion was unimpressed. "People like you?"
Jaxen's lips parted into a smile, "yes,"
and the light filled him.
++++
A photographer and a hiker. Irina saw Sierra as the type, but Elias was not the picture of a woodsman. With his pale skin and drawn frame, he did not seem capable of keeping warm walking from the house to a car let alone survive a week in the winter weather. But he did seem to be the type drawn to hauntings and fairy tales.
Such as the tale of the river guardian. Irina's grandmother used to share that story to the children. It was local legend, that was all. But yes, she'd heard of it. "In fact, I have. The upper reaches of the Volga river unite some of the most ancient towns in the land. There is one particular bend in the river and on the high right bank was one town, built a thousand years ago, on an ideal point to survey the river and many great distances. The landscape surrounding is of remarkable beauty as well-high forested bluffs marked by ravines that descend into the main part of where the town once was centered. Legend has that a prince of this town, Prince Vsevolod, while camping at this site, had a miraculous vision of a sacred icon, St. George, battling great evil on the river. When the mongols invaded a decade later, they slaughtered the prince and decimated the town. His vision was deemed to have come to life and history passed into legend."
Irina looked to Sierra. "You happen to see any remnants of Prince Vsevolod's ghost or his great evil of vision?"
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Feb 3 2018, 10:00 PM.