10-30-2013, 06:54 PM
<small>(Oriena's moding done [hopefully] with permission)</small>
The night was still young. Oriena may be tired, but Jaxen was willing to bet he'd win the battle of most hellish week on earth. It didn't slow his step, though. Rolling out the door and carefully locking up behind him. He worked diligently on the Wallet as they walked, all but ignoring Oriena, but he had that sickly sinister smile splitting his face all the way to the elevator. There was a reason he was keen to crash this party. And it had nothing to do with bathing in obscene wealth. Well. Not entirely. But getting there was going to be half the fun.
Back in the day when Jaxen was a bouncing little lad, the ASU capital announced their intent to tower over other city in the world. A few record breaking years later and the Burj Khalifa, the long-time tower most closely touching the heavens, was dwarfed by any number of buildings from the Moscow City skyline. Men could disappear in the maze of steel and glass and only surface when the building spat them back out again. Jaxen, however, knew every intimate passage of the place he called home. When the leviathans of modern skylines swallowed him, he wanted to know exactly how to burrow his way back out again.
Which meant he knew exactly how to rig the place to his whims.
Behind him, an elevator chimed its arrival, but Jaxen was uninterested in taking it. He'd selected a specific lift, and he waited patiently for the doors to part. When they finally did, he slipped in, held the Wallet to the control panel, and made his selections. Consequently, nothing extraordinary happened, but Jax slipped the tech back in his pocket seemingly satisfied with himself and turned to Oriena.
His expression drew balefully sinister, a darkness just shy of harmful. Probably.
His approach was swift and grip far from the gentility in their dance. The satisfaction of pinning the object of his craving between himself and the wall only fueled the hunger for more. From the circle of her mouth, his lips chased the line of a neck opened up by a wrenching of her hair with all the demand of one used to being in control. And thanks to an expert thief's trickery, he had as long as he wanted to enjoy Oriena's obedience. Assuming she complied. He had a feeling she would. Marauding grip served distraction, and he switched her places so to lean himself against the support of the cold leather wall. About then, wily hands laid the weight of suggestion on her shoulders, expecting to send her to her knees.
The night was still young. Oriena may be tired, but Jaxen was willing to bet he'd win the battle of most hellish week on earth. It didn't slow his step, though. Rolling out the door and carefully locking up behind him. He worked diligently on the Wallet as they walked, all but ignoring Oriena, but he had that sickly sinister smile splitting his face all the way to the elevator. There was a reason he was keen to crash this party. And it had nothing to do with bathing in obscene wealth. Well. Not entirely. But getting there was going to be half the fun.
Back in the day when Jaxen was a bouncing little lad, the ASU capital announced their intent to tower over other city in the world. A few record breaking years later and the Burj Khalifa, the long-time tower most closely touching the heavens, was dwarfed by any number of buildings from the Moscow City skyline. Men could disappear in the maze of steel and glass and only surface when the building spat them back out again. Jaxen, however, knew every intimate passage of the place he called home. When the leviathans of modern skylines swallowed him, he wanted to know exactly how to burrow his way back out again.
Which meant he knew exactly how to rig the place to his whims.
Behind him, an elevator chimed its arrival, but Jaxen was uninterested in taking it. He'd selected a specific lift, and he waited patiently for the doors to part. When they finally did, he slipped in, held the Wallet to the control panel, and made his selections. Consequently, nothing extraordinary happened, but Jax slipped the tech back in his pocket seemingly satisfied with himself and turned to Oriena.
His expression drew balefully sinister, a darkness just shy of harmful. Probably.
His approach was swift and grip far from the gentility in their dance. The satisfaction of pinning the object of his craving between himself and the wall only fueled the hunger for more. From the circle of her mouth, his lips chased the line of a neck opened up by a wrenching of her hair with all the demand of one used to being in control. And thanks to an expert thief's trickery, he had as long as he wanted to enjoy Oriena's obedience. Assuming she complied. He had a feeling she would. Marauding grip served distraction, and he switched her places so to lean himself against the support of the cold leather wall. About then, wily hands laid the weight of suggestion on her shoulders, expecting to send her to her knees.