Da Capo (Manifesto)

[Zhenya]

Zhenya tsked a good-natured tease, and tapped Cruz playfully on the shoulder. “Ma’am will not do. I prefer you call me Zhenya.”

“There are two sides to your coin,” she said, smiling for the very apt metaphor, and not without a glance to where he had pocketed it. “While you think of bettering the world, others will be less noble in their intentions, do you not think? Prove the gift might be distilled in such a way and it does not end with medicine and healing. 

“Responsibility to use this power wisely -- in that you will find in me a devoted ally. But I fear we might disagree on what it means.” Her tone was light and generally warm -- she was not lecturing, just engaged with the conversation. “Then again, I suppose I do not have a healer’s soul, but that of a protector. I admire your spirit, Cruz”

[Cruz]

Cruz patted the pocketed coin after the glance to where it was stored. It was a curiousity. And the fact that she was intriqued b it also begged to question why?

Though that was for later. Intellectual debates were few and far between -- specially with smeone who could talk the same hidden languae however be it with a different accent so to speak. "Thank you, Zhenya" Her name a strange like a strange flavor on his lips. Conversations his father and grand father might be having and not him. Things had changed for him. It made him smile.

"I know the terrible side of what the gift has given us. My teacher, mentor whatever you want to call him is just a boy -- a few years older than I am who is a self proclaimed weapon. That's all he sees what he can do as. But I've never seen him throw a fireball at a bank vault to get the contents inside. Not saying he couldn't. And not saying anyone else like him, like us won't. It's no different than technology or science in general. I mean look at the theory of relativity. Without it we'd be without the atomic bomb. Someone will always turn the gift into destruction. Doesn't mean we should stop progressing. But protect us -- be my guest. I would be very afraid of my friend if he ever hand the urge to rip apart our lovely city." Cruz shuddered at the thought. Now wasn't the Ascendancy but he could be a just as bad as a nuclear explosion if he wished it. So could he.

Cruz smiled. "But talk of business can be stifling. We have drinks. Music, though tastes could be refined a little." He chuckled softly as the thump thump from the open doors filtered through before closing again to just a the muffled sound of the beat of the club dancing the other side. Cruz pulled the coin from his pocket and tapped it against the sleek surface. "Have you seen one before? My grand father was never much of an antiquities person and my mother would say it goes with nothing I own."

[Zhenya]

She was not surprised to hear Cruz’s mentor was only a boy, much as Cruz was himself. Of course, Ascendancy excepted, the gift itself appeared mostly in its infancy, so naturally many of those upon whom it had been bestowed were likewise. Zhenya knew from experience that there was little to be gleaned from the workings of the opposite sex, and thus little she could offer in terms of knowledge. Not that those limitations had dampened her interest in working with Seven. Still, it wasn’t that which piqued her interest in Cruz’s friend so much as his description of him. “No man is solely a weapon. It is a mistake to think so.” The declaration reverberated deep, like a mistake she had seen and mourned before, though perhaps not in this lifetime. Zhenya was not squeamish of the notion of death or of violence -- it was her business, after all. But if it were a warrior’s heart beneath her carefully manicured exterior, it was also a noble one. “Perhaps I would meet him, one day.” She smiled, but did not linger upon the subject.

“We are all of us dangerous, or could be, if we chose to be. And we are also an infinitesimal minority. People may be cultivated. Technology is harder to control.”

She took a sip of her drink, and laughed a little at his observation of the music. Her earlier tease of the coin had been but a playful overture to welcome him amongst the group, her curiosity stoked only for the description he gave the trinket after she returned it. She glanced at it again now, and leaned in a little, conspiratorial. “I did not see it very clearly before. May I?” She held out a delicate palm.

[Cruz]

The idea of Nox meeting the CEO of Pervaya seemed a bit out there. Nox didn't like this crowd. He tolerated his father and himself. Though he did like Cruz's mother. He knew that much -- she was like a mom. Something Nox hadn't had in long time. So she didn't count. He ahd done well at the gala, but then again he got into a fight and killed monsters there too -- soo... yeah, that wasn't a good example either.

But the coin was the topic of conversation now. He set it on the smooth surface and pushed it towards Zhenya. "It's old looking, though I don't think it's very old. But I could be wrong." Cruz seized the power with in and probed the coin carefully like he'd seen Nox push his power into the ground. Or when he did the healing weave. It was interesting to see what he saw or felt or he didn't know how to explain it. "I don't see anything overtly special about it. But you don't hide things that aren't special to someone or for some reason."

[Natalie Grey]

Adrian erred towards caution, an answer so non-committal and genial it almost made her laugh aloud. He claimed an ego but seemed surprisingly shy of risking offence. “If a bite is likely to do damage, you couldn’t have picked much worse company for yourself.” This time her lips did curl a brief smirk, though not precisely in mirth, and she leaned into the words like she shared the worst kept of secrets. Jay had called her out on her bad luck once. Given the common denominator for tragedy in her life (that being her own tendency for reckless decision), she couldn’t say she disagreed, even if it had been a riposte meant in jest at the time. Natalie tipped a shoulder, as if to declare it his own funeral. She wasn’t going to chase him away. Though neither would she be offended if he humbled an excuse to leave.

She’d begun to entrench herself in learning Moscow’s landscape of power, but she didn’t know anything about Adrian. Beyond the obvious, of course; Manifesto seethed with the rich, powerful, and elite, barring everyone else from the door. How loyal was he to the Custody? Most here, maybe all, were likely to be akin to Scion Marveet, ready and willing to sell flesh and soul (theirs or others) for the chance at entering the Sphere. Adrian painted an amiable picture of himself, one she chose to take at face value, but no one here was innocent.

God she was tired of this game. 

Or maybe just tired. Bone-deep, soul-deep, weary.

She looked at his open hand for perhaps a heartbeat too long. In another lifetime Natalie might have taken it, trusted blind to the mercy of escape with whatever soul chose to share the journey, uncaring of the destination. The gesture now stung her with the sharpest sense of homesickness, but he was unlikely to have any idea how or why it affected her so. Still, it held her quietly a moment before her pale gaze returned to his face. A shuttered pain. She was well-practised at hiding in plain sight.

Jay had not responded to the message she’d sent upon returning to her apartment. The silence ached like a missing limb, but it wasn’t unexpected, and she would acquiesce to the space he needed to tend the cruel scars left by America and its horrors. For now she had no idea where he was, and was both too proud and too bitter to beg the Custody to unearth him as she had before. She trusted, because she had to; the bonds of loyalty that tied Jay here tied her alongside. He was the only reason she was still in Moscow, and why she would stay.

He was the reason she didn’t take Adrian’s hand.

Even absent heat, the temptation was there, and doubtless not for the reasons that polite hand was extended, though she did not think he would have said no. Self-destructive intimacy was an old bedfellow, before Africa at least, but wasn’t a path she intended tonight -- was why she wasn’t even drinking. The shift in her demeanour was small; a lilt of her head, pale-gold hair brushing a shoulder, a sly smile. A sultry self-deprecation. She drifted a few steps away before she turned, still inching backwards. He was free to follow, or not.

“Shall we see if your company is not altogether intolerable, Adrian Kane? I find myself in need of air.”

[Zhenya]

Zhenya took the coin between two delicate fingers, twisting it to peruse both sides. On one sat the grinning face of a demon, and on the other the same creature with instead a look of abject terror. She did not find it particularly tasteful to look at. A thin thread of seidr probed an inspection, but no resonance responded as she had seen with other objects connected to the power. It satisfied her interest. “That is true,” she agreed, “unless it is simply lost. Where did you say you had found it?”

She offered it back with a smile. His earnestness for the mystery was quite adorable. “Of its age, I do not know, nor how to tell. But I have a friend quite talented in unearthing such knowledge. I could call upon his assistance, if you wish. I’m sure he would do me the favour.”

[Adrian Kane]

Adrian retracted his hand. It was not a complete rejection given the invitation that followed, but it wasn’t the melting into his embrace he typically experienced. He was a devilishly handsome fellow. He wasn’t so ignorant to not be willing to charm and seduce his way into what he wanted. Nor was he so stupid to assume it was only women who wielded such power. Physical intimacy was more than fine, but it was connection that Adrian craved. Not one of a soul to some mystical mate; he’d likely sell his soul if it got him what he wanted. No. It was contacts and a network that fed him his ultimate desire. It wasn't the beams of steel that stretched the skyscraper to the clouds. It was the rebar buried out of sight that twisted the strength of a trillion fibers together that built an empire, and the costs of such expansion usually required sacrifice. He knew what it meant to sacrifice blood, sweat and tears for ambition. If beautiful company filled the nights along the way, he would not ignore it.

Without her arm, Adrian nodded amicably and escorted Natalie out of the club with the sheerness of his steady presence. Beyond, her car was summoned. It would likely earn her distaste, but he went so far as to open the door for her. Women and their fussy clothes and precarious shoes usually appreciated the gesture, even if it was old-fashioned. He smiled apologetically, as if he was bound to the service regardless of what either of them thought of such silliness, before going around and climbing into the back seat beside her. The gray of his gaze lingered on hers for a few moments. 

“Where does one go for air in Moscow?” he asked, interested to know the instructions she would bestow upon the driver. With another woman, he might have offered the fresh air of his building penthouse balconies. The hotel occupied most of the building, but the highest levels were sectioned into his living spaces. But given the previous rejection of a mere arm, she was likely not ready to accept such an obvious excuse to retire to privacy. So he waited patiently, at her mercy, to experience what would soon unfold.

[[Natalie moded with permission.]]

[Natalie Grey]

It seemed his assertion of a robust ego was not unfounded, because he followed despite the edge of rejection to her invitation. The relative quiet of his company was not unwelcome, and if Natalie had any opinion on the impeccability of his manners she did not remark on it beyond meeting his eye as she slid into the car. The directness of her gaze might have been anything from mockery to a flirtation, bold either way.

Within the town car’s interior was unremarkable luxury. It was the same one that had escorted her from the airfield, probably, though a glance in the driver’s mirror told her it was not the same person behind the wheel, as did the hum of familiarity that drew her senses there in the first place. As Adrian joined her, Natalie's attention turned to watch him with open study. She didn’t hide the curiosity.

“I’m sure you would know better than I where is considered fashionable. This city is still unfamiliar to me. My family have not favoured Moscow in a long time.” If he knew anything of the Northbrooks, he would know why, but he gave every indication of being far too polite to mention her father’s incarceration here. The prompt was intentional, of course. If he hoped for a conduit to her family’s power, he was mistaken in her value. She’d be honest about that.

“I can’t say I have enjoyed Moscow much so far. My first days here were… eventful.” She did not glance at the unblemished skin of her wrists. The scars were erased, but the stains on her memory were permanent. These days Natalie only tipped a shoulder to the lingering of those ghosts, though. They had much company of late, each addition more painful than the last. She laughed low, though it was not a jovial sound, and added. “I could certainly tell you where one does not go for air.”

The engine hummed quietly, and the earnestness of his patience was quite the temptation to exploit. In the shadows her smile was nothing short of flagrant tease. “A wise man would have asked before he got so willingly into my car.” She seemed amused, but did not attempt to hide the directions she presently leaned to make of her driver. The address was rural, somewhere near the river. It would take time to break free of the city’s gridlock. He had plenty of time to ask questions, if he wanted. In the meantime she asked one of her own.

“Have you ever met Nikolai Brandon, Adrian?”

[[ooc note, just fyi, the driver is "Toma", the minder/bodyguard Natalie's mother hired. Toma is Nhysa. I'm not going to post her or anything, but I thought I'd make you aware since a) she's a channeler and b) Nyx and Morpheus were related]]

[Adrian Kane]

He chuckled as the car pulled into traffic.

“We just left somewhere fashionable, and fresh air and fashion are never found in the same place. You’ll need to make up your mind which it is you want,” he said with the hint of a tease.  

Accustomed to the leisure of riding backseat, Adrian lounged comfortably as familiar sights blurred by. Although the longer he sat idle without a task on hand to occupy his attention, the more his eyes roamed. A crane loomed a block to the south. Its flickering lights signaling its towering strength. Although out of sight, he knew the parcel of buildings beneath were under extensive construction. Practically a rebuild, according to the project plans. He wasn’t so involved in the mighty Moscow real estate world to own the block. Nor did he own the construction company. Nor rent the equipment, steel, labor, or scaffolds. Nothing so glamorous and cutthroat as that.

Their chat was soon shadowed by Natalie’s anecdote. A poor review of the city was not the kind of thing to publicize. Olympus did not deign to acknowledge the existence of an underworld when one most definitely existed. They banished their undesirables to darkness and despair and pretended that out of sight equated to no threat. But Adrian knew better. He knew the foundation of any great city was built upon the backs of those preferred to be kept out of sight. The trash bins and portable toilets his forgotten, lonely company provided that construction site kept the work ongoing, but when shit piles up (literal and figurative), progress grinds to an expensive halt.

His gaze fell upon the dark-haired driver about then. Another forgotten soul. He wondered who she was. How she came into the work of a chauffeur, and if she moonlit as any other profession.

But Adrian’s internal monologue was interrupted by the kind of name that piqued the ear of anyone dallying in the dance of power. He smiled with his answer, although he wasn’t sure why until he examined the expression with which Natalie asked. She was straight to the point, and he had to assume the plainness of her question was to demonstrate her closer proximity to power than his.
“I have seen him from afar but have not had the pleasure to meet our Ascendancy in person,” he answered without hesitation, although the rote way with which he spoke of the most powerful man on earth may or may not have been for the benefit of the ears of the presumed driver.


“Why do you ask? You’re not taking me to some secret country estate to make the introduction, are you?”

[Natalie Grey]

“Must I, now,” she said drily, and laughed a little, watching as the city lights smeared past the window. Choice was rather the problem.

The tease loosened something in Natalie’s demeanour, if not her self-contained posture. Her legs were crossed, her back straight, with only her arms relaxed in her lap. She watched the scenery occasionally, but mostly she watched him. Adrian sat very carefully on that fence while he assessed risk. She wondered if it meant he was not born into money, but there was a signet ring on his smallest finger that suggested otherwise. The shadows swallowed its symbol. Not that she was likely to recognise it anyway.

“He’s smaller than you’d think, up close.” Her smile was sly. Amusement hovered, quite plain. He might find that impolite, scandalous, or simply foolish: to first disparage the city, and then the man who ruled it. Or, he might not. She didn’t mind; her reputation was not something she kept polished. To the contrary, really. And it was hardly treason.

“But I shall have to disappoint you terribly now, because I’ve nothing so decadent planned. It does seem to be what half of Moscow desires: to enter the Sphere, to get as close to the apex of the mountain as possible. I just wondered if that’s why you were here; why you left England.”

After a moment, she clarified; “You asked what I was seeking, before. I wondered the same of you.”