Masquerade [Kuskovo Estate]

[Adrian Kane]

Colette had been forward that night at 41 Kras’ rooftop bar, therefore, he wasn’t surprised when she contacted him again. Adrian agreed to be her date and promptly set about the task of researching exactly whose party he would be attending. The Vasilievs were a recognized name within the city, and for those who skirted the periphery of the power players, were a name to respect. Filtering through the contracts under AK Holdings’ many businesses, he identified multiple circumstances where services had been provided in one way or another. It meant Adrian was several degrees of separation away from Konstantin Vasiliev, but it meant he was in the world nonetheless. If the roles were reversed, he would be sure to conduct similar research on every guest attending the function tonight, flagging men of interest to monitor. Therefore, he assumed he was noted, but probably dismissed as someone of low rank and power. Things would not always be like that. Not after he mastered this infuriating power within, and not after he finally forced his way onto the center of the stage where he belonged. Until then, he would enjoy watching the people who would eventually become part of the history books.

Since Colette was still a guest of Radiance, it was only a short elevator ride to meet her at her door. He knocked and waited like a proper gentleman at the appointed time, only for his brow to furrow down in frustration when there was no answer. A moment later, his wallet buzzed and upon it, he discovered a message from Colette, indicating that he was to 'come and find her'. The message was playfully intended, but he grumbled to himself anyway. 41 Kras was a large building. She could be anywhere. They were going to be late if he took an hour to seek her out, not to mention trodding up and down his own building was a joke he wasn’t wanting to play. Luckily, he could cheat.

He dialed security. Surely she would know he would do that. So what was the point?

He located her in the lobby bar, perched upon a seat like a bird on a limb. The same drink from the night they met was twirled in her fingers. He intended to walk directly up to her and congratulate her on a game well-played and lead her out so they could depart, but instead he found himself strangely still. A staff member’s voice permeated the strange fog that descended upon his mind, though he did not look away from Colette when it did.

“Mr. Kane. Can I get you something?”

Adrian’s answer was a frown as he slowly made his way to her.

“I see the chase was worth the effort. You look stunning,” he said. He would not allow what was stirring within to grab hold, and instead, he told himself it was merely because she was a classically beautiful woman pursuing him. Such women were a dime a dozen, but allowing himself to appreciate one was no more than a minor disruption. It meant only that he was certain to draw jealousy from the other masquerade guests, leverage he could use to his advantage. 

He held out his arm for her to join him, and he escorted her to the car that would take them to Kuskovo.

[Sofia Vasilieva]

Sofia Vasilieva

Sofia shifted to accept the kiss to her cheek. Fortunate for Zixin he chose to bring manners with him, for the roam of her eyes beneath the mask was interested but entirely judgemental. The night on the bridge had been purely business, and his bold step onto Moscow’s power board had left an impression. Vasilievs kept enemies closer than friends whatever they claimed to be in public. Though to Sofia’s mind there was no real difference between the two: there was only ever family, and everyone else. Power was power, though. And Zixin Kao had something she wanted.

“You kept your word,” she said while they were still intimately close. He would know she was talking about the basket of lotions that indeed arrived the following morning for her brother’s split knuckles. The plump red of her lips held a smug smile, full of tease. She’d like to see his reaction when he saw Maksim for the first time tonight, injuries entirely erased, and moreso when she made sure he understood it was because of the strings she pulled. “The gift was appreciated, of course. But entirely unnecessary.”

Sofia wasn't ignorant of how he made it very clear to their company in what capacity she’d invited him, but she only found it flattering. Ambivalence would not win much from her beyond dismissal, or perhaps retaliation if it bothered her enough. In fact she’d gone to some effort to ensure their outfits tonight complemented one another in inverse. Red and white, like blood and snow. They were by far the most lavish couple here, and she fully intended to draw attention to it. A possessive touch traced the outside of his arm in welcome. She didn’t miss a step.

“Of course,” she said, the smile undiminished but only warm now, and her attention finally returned to Daniil. A flash of jealousy would not have gone amiss, but she doubted to see it from him. Danya just liked something pretty on his arm in the same way some men liked expensive watches or cars. Elena was an accessory, whether she knew it or not. As such Zixin’s arrival had only interrupted idle conversation to ensure she dictated whose company she was in when he found her. Though dear Danya would want the connection as much as she imagined it would also be of interest to the Syndicate. A gift in itself. “Daniil Tarasovich, meet Zixin Kao. Brought to our shores in tragedy, I’m afraid to say.”

Alina Marveet

The young Marveet couple were swept up almost as soon as they entered the lavish ballroom. Alina was resplendent in her social element, eyes beneath her mask twinkling almost as much as the diamonds stitched into her dress, tonight dark and mysterious as a raven’s wing. The Vasiliev anniversary bash was always as much a political statement as a party in truth, but she had always loved that her parents celebrated their marriage in such a way that forced everyone to acknowledge what a powerhouse they were.

Scion was already here, she noticed, hovering in the general vicinity of her father, Myshelov and the Ascendancy. The arm Alina threaded through Maksim’s naturally drew him in another direction through the massive estate. They might not be able to avoid his father all night, but darkening their evening so early seemed a shame to her.

“There you are, Lina.”

It was Grisha who spoke, threading his way towards them in something she wasn’t quite sure at first glance might actually be his version of urgency. He reached to grasp Maksim’s hand and pat him on the shoulder in greeting with an amiable, "Max." There was never much in the way of formality offered by her baby brother. She looked at the potted plant balanced in the corner of his elbow, sharing a slightly surprised look with Maksim before Grisha added in her ear, “You keep an eye on Sofia, and I’ll take Dima, yeah?”

Alina followed the line of his sight then, to glimpse some distance away a woman she recognised even with the delicate mask and expensive dress. Who it was she found surprising of itself, and it showed in her expression, though she got the meaning well enough. Surely Dima's infatuation must have cooled after five years, though. There had been plenty of women since then at least. Sofia on the other hand. Well, forgiveness was not in her sister's vocabulary. “Well who even invited her?” she asked.

But her brother only shrugged, grinned, and disappeared back amidst the guests.

[Xander]

Xander chuckled as they walked through the crowd. "It's a bit more complicated than just a glance. It's an eye jarring experience when there are this many people. And I don't always know what they mean, but when I do know they are a truth. And I know what I see what I see you. Your secret is safe with me." For now, Xander thought to himself. There was nothing to profit from it, the man wasn't rich there was nothing to gain from his secret except now Xander knew if he got mortally injured he knew someone who could help. That was a benefit, but Xander didn't intend on needing his services exactly.

As they walked Xander spoke of some of the people he saw. But he was looking for one in particular. He found him and grabbed Jensen's arm to stop their walking. He turned so he could watch Zixin Kao while not looking too much like a fan boi though he could play it out. His eyes blinked at the images that rolled over the man. Most of them were related to dragons and snakes and Xander wasn't sure of much of anything that he saw -- a giant boat circling the globe, a serpent eating its own tail -- he'd seen that one many times over the years, but he was fairly certain it didn't mean the same thing in this context, the death aura around the man wasn't the same. He had killed people but it wasn't the same. There were other things like a sunburst on a field of white and a three headed dragon with the body of snakes and lizards. Xander shuddered. "I don't understand anything I read on him." He nodded towards Zixin Kao. "But I know he's a dangerous man. We should stay clear of him."

Xander grabbed Jensen's elbow politely began their walk again, grabbing them both another drink from the server who passed. "Anyone you want to know anything about here?" That was always a fun little game to play. Though, he rarely told anyone what he could do. It seemed Kristian Osterhagen was an exhibitionisth when it came to flaunting his powers. So now he'd play the game out in the open.

[[ If I got those images wrong for Zixin let me know I think I worded them similarly enough ]]

[Jensen James]

Once Jensen was reassured that his secret was safe, he became more and more fascinated by Kristian’s insights. He listened with rapt attention while people were explained to him, though with each story, conviction slowly crept into his heart. He felt like he was spying, but that wasn’t the reason for the guilt. Deep down, he wanted to know more about the people they passed. Their struggles and identities made him feel more connected, and for a man whose recent years were spent in solitude and isolation, each one was a spark. Then there was Kristian himself. He spoke with the panache of a storyteller. It stirred nostalgia within Jensen, and the urge to join him was strong.

Such when he pulled him swiftly aside to study the man whom Kristian identified as dangerous, the response within Jensen was complex. It was hard to imagine such a suave person as so dangerous as to be warned away from even talking to him. Not to mention the touch on his arm felt uncomfortably intimate, and he knew what was happening. After what happened Ezvin, he wasn't sure he was ready to go through that again, so he attempted to redirect his focus.

Such a gift could be used for good, though. If Kristian was simply walking down the street and saw someone clearly suffering from silent struggles, he could show extra kindness or assist in ways that they would never even comprehend. Maybe Jensen could do something similar. Then it wouldn’t be about selfish prying and gossip but about service and altruism.

“Do you see anyone here that we could help?” He lowered his voice and caught Kristian’s eyes with his own. The lock of eye contact felt odd behind their opulent masks, but in a way, he was just as anonymous as Iason. “I’ll have to find a way to be discreet. The Ascendancy is here, after all. He would know if I… took action.”

[Xander]

Help? Now that was a novel idea. He'd never actually helped anyone. No one he'd ever saw really needed help -- or maybe it was that Xander never really looked at it that way. But there was no money in helping anyone but himself. But for the benefit of the con he'd play the game. Sure, let's find someone to help.

Xander looked around. He saw many things on many people. The auras of everyone mingling with everyone else's. The unicorn vomit was pretensions at best and he wondered if these people even knew what they looked like to him -- not that they even cared with all their money and riches. He tried not to scoff -- it wasn't like he looked any different, but he never had to look at himself. Thank the fucking heavens.

But as he looked through the auras and images he caught, he looked for something different. Jensen was a healer -- he likely wanted to heal someone, but unless that person was on death's door Xander wasn't sure he'd actually be able to tell anything of that nature. Cancer patients sometimes had a death aura about them, but with the cure so readily available only the poor smucks who couldn't afford it were ever seen to die from the disease. None of these smucks -- a different kind of smuck he smiled to himself before rolling his eyes.

His eyes fell on one individual, he stood beside a woman in an elegant dress. She was part of this world yet different -- the air about her told a different story. But it was the man who she stood with. The images around him were the usual kinds with the wreath of flowers about his head, plants growing here and there and everywhere. If the guy was some gardener he wouldn't be surprised. He didn't belong here whatever he looked like in the cream colored suit and matching mask. But none of that is what drew his attention. No it was the big gaping hole in his aura like something was rudely yanked from him. Xander was afraid to stare too hard at the abyss for fear of what might pop out of the orifice that only he could see.

Xander didn't smile as he took Jensen's elbow, maybe not so gently as before. "Him. He has a huge gaping hole in his aura." Kristian's voice cracked with the guttural German of his ancestry. How easy it was to stay in character even when he'd forgotten it himself. Years of practice Xander was grateful for.

Kristian smiled at the woman and nodded at the gardener. "Your dress is absolutely gorgeous, a piece of fine art if you ask me. And so is your escort. My name is Kristian Osterhagen. My friend here is Jensen James. Tell me who is the designer. I might have to commission something as fine."

[Raffe]

Noémi was nervous. The signs were subtle, she was graceful as a swan, and as demure as though she belonged amongst these people. But she was distracted too. Raffe only offered his arm and stayed silent. He watched the people around them with mild disinterest, but felt no great desire to fit in. Whatever dampened his heartbreak also dampened any nerves he might have otherwise felt himself, though he wondered why Noémi was putting herself through it.

As a waiter passed by, Raffe plucked two flutes of champagne from the tray, offering a brief smile of thanks. He handed one to Noémi. She took it with a small centering breath, like she had been a million miles away. He half turned to see what had captured her attention so, but was interrupted when a man approached them with fluttery compliments and grand introductions. He recognised neither name, which came as no surprise.

“Merci,” Noémi said, but her eyes blinked up to Raffe, touched with concern. For the comment about him, he imagined, which was sweet of her but unnecessary. He wasn’t particularly bothered about being described so, but he knew her past, and perhaps she felt differently. “It is a Zalya piece,” she added. She did not blush under the attention, though neither bloomed as some women did for the attention. "It is a pleasure to meet you both. I am Noémi Jourdain, and this is my friend --"

“Just Raffe,” he said, with the accent of a friendly shrug. An old-fashion cravat tucked away the scar on his neck from view, but his voice was tell-tale hoarse. He offered a hand if either man wished to shake it.

[Jensen James]

Jensen was swept along by Kristian’s guidance. Though this time he leaned in to listen to what Kristian revealed. His heart rate quickened, though he wasn’t sure if it was the secrecy, the attention, the prospect, or the fact that the person with the hole in their aura was exquisitely attractive. Jensen felt as out of place as a cowboy in a gallery of marble sculptures as they approached, and the man who introduced himself as Raffe may as well have been Michelangelo’s David come to life for the the perfectly chiseled jaw and beautiful eyes he displayed.

The spell was somewhat broken by the beautiful french accent that Noemi sang. He smiled and tried to suppress his uncouth sounding drawl, though it was putting lipstick on a pig. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He gave her fingers a light squeeze, and when he shook Raffe’s hand, something sparked in the touch of their palms that rendered him nearly speechless. If he had the opportunity, he would have spiraled the wings of the Gift then and there, for a profound sadness crept forth from what should be merriment and light. He could not explain it.

He felt as if he knew this person, though he’d never seen him in his life. “Jensen. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He allowed the shake of hands to linger as long as was appropriate though he took a breath to reorient himself once the touch parted. 

He didn’t know how to bring up empty auras and offering services, but Jensen always found it easy to chat with strangers. It was only in recent years that he suppressed that part of himself, and perhaps meeting Ezvin stirred up a loneliness that he was finally allowing himself to dream might someday part.

“Do you like art, Raffe? Kristian here was telling me about a piece in the other room that is almost as stunning as Noemi’s gown.” He shot her a smile, but it was back to him that he clearly turned his attention.

[Xander]

Xander took both their hands, taking in what he could perceive just a little clearer with contact. It wasn't emotions or epiphanies of any sort, but the images around them danced just a little clearer and brighter now that he could focus on one person. He smiled at the woman, she was connected to others here, and some were even long past things he couldn't quite make out. The dress was of a name he knew, but he'd have to look it up to be of any use to him, but he catalogued the name to use in later conversations as necessary. Noah might have use of the name -- though he rarely came out of his hidey hole in his head.

The man, Raffe on the other hand, when he took his hand things spun clearer and that clarity drew Xander in, because it was not clear, it was a revolving door of inability for the images to decide what was going on. It was like spinning atop and it was waiting to fall. And in a strange moment he felt like he was involved somehow. Though he wasn't exactly sure how or why. But it was the first time he'd ever felt that way before. What on fucking god's green earth could he be involved with that would involve a man like this? Not that there was anything wrong with him, he just wasn't a mark of Xander's choosing. He wasn't rich. Nor famous, he wasn't even infamous. He was just a random man with a hole in his aura. That didn't get any clearer either.

Jensen asked if Raffe liked art. Kristian chuckled. "I think Raffe here, might enjoy the gardens outside more. Have any of you visited Aptekarskiy Ogorod Botanical Garden when the tulips are in season. I hear the display is almost as fine as the Zalya piece Ms Naomi is wearing. Nature has always been the finest artist around."

[Jensen James]

He wondered what it was that Kristian saw that implied Raffe may prefer the beauty of nature to the beauty of artwork. Though, one may state that the world was the canvas of God’s creation, and it stood to reason that nature was living art itself.

He was intrigued by the botanical garden, and in fact had no idea one was in Moscow. Kristian did not so much as stumble over the pronunciation of the name, but while Jensen studied the old languages in divinity school, he wouldn’t attempt to butcher the Russian word. Living here all these years and he still found the dialect difficult.

Building on Kristian’s introduction, he also sought confirmation from Raffe. “Botanical gardens sound beautiful. There’s nothing quite like a field of tulips, but my favorite flower is the iris. I remember my mother grew rows and rows of them as a child, and she would take the best to iris shows. There’s something about them that I can stare at endlessly. Each one seems like a miracle.” He tried not to get too lost in the piercing gaze behind Raffe’s mask, and suddenly felt a little silly for the passionate description.

He attempted to redirect the attention off his rambling. “Have you been there?”

[Daniil]

Ever the embodiment of suave insincerity, Daniil flashed a smile that could disarm even the most cautious of hearts. He offered Zixin a hand, the grip firm, the smile never reaching his eyes. "Daniil Tarasovich,” he began, his voice smooth, laced with an accent that hinted at his affluent upbringing, “The prodigal guest graces us with his presence. I've heard whispers of you, Mr. Kao, but you know how stories grow in the telling. Tragedy, you say, Sofia? Now, that's a heavy cloak to wear in such a gathering. But here, among friends,” he gestured broadly, encompassing the opulent room with its masked revelers as if he were performing before a jury, "we prefer lighter attires, do we not?”

Turning slightly, he drew Elena closer with a proprietary hand at the small of her back. "And speaking of attires, let me not make the unforgivable mistake of not introducing you to the evening's crowning jewel, Elena. A vision, wouldn't you agree?” His tone suggested he expected no disagreement, his gaze briefly flitting to Sofia, a silent wink to indicate her obvious superiority. Elena, for her part, offered a demure smile, perhaps a touch overshadowed by the grandeur of her company, particularly Sofia’s.

"But let's not dwell on sorrows tonight,” Daniil continued, reclaiming the conversation with the ease of a man accustomed to the spotlight. "Moscow thrives on resilience, on the spectacular, and on the sheer force of will to turn every tragedy into a triumph. I trust, Mr. Kao, your story will be no different. After all, tonight, you are in the company of the Custody’s finest, Sofia’s illustrious family, no less.”