07-26-2014, 02:30 PM
Enzo had not survived the last two years without learning to listen to goings on behind closed doors.
Enzo stifled the panting that burned his lungs. Wide-thrown eyes latched onto those of his Atharim mentor, Corrado Sabbatini, like a rock-climber grappling for a hand-hold. Corrado gestured sharply and Enzo snapped his gaze down the hall left and right. The way was clear and he took aim at the door. His partner did likewise and on their silent count, burst into the room beyond. Shrieking filled his ears.
The door opened and he recognized Tehya Alisdelisgi although Enzo could not pronounce her surname. She was American, he'd been told, but briefly blinked through a series of understandings. He'd never seen a Native American, before. According to Corrado, the American Atharim were somewhat distinct from the Old World Atharim, but his mentor never elaborated how.
He nodded, "Oui, je suis Vincenzo. Enzo, if you don't mind."
He caught himself from scoping the room beyond her for clearance before entering. She was Atharim, but Corrado's habits were ingrained in him after years at the wizened man's side. Trust nothing but your own instincts, he'd said.
He gathered his things to place them just inside the door. His spine seemed to uncurl as he deposited the weight he'd grown used to upon the floor.
He turned to her as he unbuttoned the coat that he let hang open for the time being. Otherwise his greeting was mild-mannered as his posture. He clearly did not see her as a threat. "Enchanté. And thank you for welcoming me into your home. I assume we will be working together?"
He watched her blankly while continuing to gather his surroundings. The place was small, but not much more than the home he shared with Mireille and the children and all four were comfortable together. Then again, they lived most of their lives on a terrace in the garden whereas Moscow was not suited to meals out of doors.
Enzo stifled the panting that burned his lungs. Wide-thrown eyes latched onto those of his Atharim mentor, Corrado Sabbatini, like a rock-climber grappling for a hand-hold. Corrado gestured sharply and Enzo snapped his gaze down the hall left and right. The way was clear and he took aim at the door. His partner did likewise and on their silent count, burst into the room beyond. Shrieking filled his ears.
The door opened and he recognized Tehya Alisdelisgi although Enzo could not pronounce her surname. She was American, he'd been told, but briefly blinked through a series of understandings. He'd never seen a Native American, before. According to Corrado, the American Atharim were somewhat distinct from the Old World Atharim, but his mentor never elaborated how.
He nodded, "Oui, je suis Vincenzo. Enzo, if you don't mind."
He caught himself from scoping the room beyond her for clearance before entering. She was Atharim, but Corrado's habits were ingrained in him after years at the wizened man's side. Trust nothing but your own instincts, he'd said.
He gathered his things to place them just inside the door. His spine seemed to uncurl as he deposited the weight he'd grown used to upon the floor.
He turned to her as he unbuttoned the coat that he let hang open for the time being. Otherwise his greeting was mild-mannered as his posture. He clearly did not see her as a threat. "Enchanté. And thank you for welcoming me into your home. I assume we will be working together?"
He watched her blankly while continuing to gather his surroundings. The place was small, but not much more than the home he shared with Mireille and the children and all four were comfortable together. Then again, they lived most of their lives on a terrace in the garden whereas Moscow was not suited to meals out of doors.