Waves in the crowd

[Ashavari]

[[Continued in Of Monsters and Magic]]

[Michael Vellas]

Michael glanced at Damien for a moment when he spoke.

"No."


That out of the way, he resumed his silent vigil.

[Ascendancy]

Sheer willpower carried Nikolai at his usual pace as he passed through the Palace corridors. On one hand, he had never been so tired after wielding his power, but on the other never had he felt such exhilaration. The temptation to return to it was strong. To lose himself in that torrent. But to yield himself to it was sure death, he knew the truth of that. But she flirted anyway. He could only smile in return.

He met Marcus, carefully keeping his fatigue from revealing itself to the younger man. Marcus and Michael for that matter would now know the extent of his strength, although they couldn't be sure of it, but neither could ever be aware of his present vulnerability. The Atharim were still waiting. And Aria could come any minute. Nik needed to rest as soon as possible.

The moment he heard Damien's name, he snapped his gaze to Marcus. "You led him here?!"
His voice bit like the jaws of a disturbed dog guarding his home. Anger was rarely revealed, but once it surfaced, it shadowed his features like demons.

He stopped in their tracks, rounding on Marcus. The younger man's physicality was no deterrent to Nikolai's anger. "I am in no shape to receive him! But if I turn him away now, he will know it. That is a weakness we can not afford to let him see. I must be a god before Damien Oakland, or he will never yield to my rule!"


Marcus wasn't a fool. He should have anticipated the consequences of Damien in the Kremlin without all the official state ceremonies usually afforded an ambassador. Unless Marcus did it on purpose. The boy was clever enough. While Nik did not doubt his loyalty, neither did he doubt the need for self preservation. He was like Aria in that regard.

"Bring him to the throne room in Andreyevsky Hall. He will be presented there."


A bold symbol, one that matched the monument outside. Nikolai left Marcus to deal with the logistics of the impromptu ceremony. Meanwhile, Nikolai left him without another word. A father disappointed in his frustrating son.

The hall that he entered was long and narrow. Formerly the Imperial Throne Room, it was still arranged as such - for historical preservation of course. The golden walls glowed in the sunlight streaming through enormous windows on one side. The floors gleamed warm. At the farthest end was an enormous throne set atop a raised dais. A golden sunburst created the seat. But the flags of current empire hung from poles on other side: the left was the CCD Phoenix, sword, and wreath while on the right was the Ascendancy's double crescent.

Nikolai waited alone atop the stairs, longingly looking at the seat behind him. To sit in the former throne of the Tsars was to proclaim himself a king before a foreign ambassador.

But he was more than a king. He was the Ascendancy. A god that did what he pleased in this, his realm. Here, he ruled, and even Damien Oakland would be only another subject to the Dominion.

He sat down, letting the jacket of his suit fall open as he did, and waited for Damien to be presented.

[Marcus DuBois]

Ascendancy turned on him in anger and Malik froze the expression on his face. A rage churned beneath the surface and for a moment, he again felt that hunger to tap into that power, the crowds below, to feel the sea of people as if they coarsed through his veins, flowed out his fingertips. The man was weak. So.Very.Weak.

But Marcus breathed and let the rage at being confronted dissipate. Not time. Not yet. He had so very much to learn. But he would keep himself sharp, soak in everything he could. He thought about those crowds, the chants up at Ascendancy, the fact that the man was known- and now worshiped. Marcus was not known, not by the people, not yet. It would take time for that to change.

And, now that anger no longer crowded his vision, he could admit, the man was right. Bringing Oakland was a very real risk, especially now. But so was leaving him to go free. Vellas- the man would never be his ally- had understood that point instinctively. The secrecy was too too telling, the man's motives unknown. So he would do as Ascendancy asked and get the man.

And he would be sure that the Ascendancy betrayed not a whisper of his fatigue. The Dominion needed to be strong. It needed to be- always and forever- perceived as undeniable. A force of nature.

Marcus nodded at Ascendancy and went to the anteroom where Oakland and Vellas and the others were waiting. "The Ascendancy will see you now in Andreyevsky Hall,"
and then led them there. To see the head of the Dominion.

Once they arrived, large doors opening, Marcus stood and presented their "guest". His eyes glittered hungrily as they ascended the stairs and rested on the man that sat on the throne.

[Damien]

The Sigma didn't look too pleased. No one in the Custody did, now he thought of it. The silence was deafening as he was marched into a large attendance hall.

By the look of it, the hall was supposed to be steeped in history. It appeared that the Ascendancy was pulling out all the stops for him. Touching indeed.

Unfortunately, Damien was not impressed by dead men, nor what they had once achieved. What use was a dead man to the living? Memories cast shadows only when the mind accepted them as real.

What was real was the Sigma, the Commander and the others. The massive display of might that the Ascendancy had shown the world. That might he could respect.

As he approached, Damien smiled up at Nikolai Brandon, magician, and conqueror of half of the world.

He seemed shorter in person.

But then, how could a man live up to such tall tales?

With a smooth smile, his eyes twinkling with the thrill of the challenge, Damien bowed his head. "Ascendancy."


"My name is Damien Oakland, I have been appointed as ambassador of Mexico. I can give your men the relevant paperwork if needed. I am here to speak to you, one Ascendant to another, regarding the future of both our people."

[Ascendancy]

Rumors said death chased Damien's heels, but had been unable to capture him in his claws. He had been shot. That part was substantiated fact. He recovered in a timely manner. His gait was sure, shoulders back and nose high in the air. Despite the splendor around him, a truly incredible work of art, he seemed disinterested and unimpressed. That grated. How could any mortal not be reverent in such a place?

Bold and confident, at least Damien acknowledged enough to bow his head in greeting. Formality was met with formality, and Nikolai appreciated the lack of power seized in his presence. Two Ascendants, perhaps, but they were not equals. Never equals.

"Welcome to the Custody, Ambassador. A friend of Mexico is a friend of ours. I'm pleased with the peace your influence has brought to that country. If only you could be as successful with the rest of Central America. Honduras and Nicaragua are in a precarious position."


His tone was open, his gaze direct. But he did not leave the confines of the chair of history. For once, he rather enjoyed looking down upon Damien's face from above.

"With you here, we can design a plan to bring about similar stability to Mexico's neighbors. You see first hand what the Custody can do in volatile places of the world. I can promise that I want nothing less for Central and South America as well."


There was no deception in his words. He truly believed in what he said. Damien was no enemy, but neither was he an ally.

Not yet.

[Damien]

Damien flashed a brilliant smile. "Your welcome is most appreciated, Ascendancy."


The smile faded as quickly as it began, Damien's mind turned to business once more. "South America needs to be cleansed of the rot that has been allowed to fester. I intend to do just that, as I have done with Mexico, but it will attract the attention of man eyes. Not all of them are as welcoming as you have been."


Damien spoke frankly, without a hint of shame or remorse. He had atoned for his failures and misdeeds. The past was done. "You may have heard reports that I was once a convicted murderer. They are true. I killed the Senator and his family, I was sentenced to death."

His eyes reflected stormclouds at the memory of that farce. <strong>"I remember the day as clear as I see you now. Fire rained down upon the mansion from nowhere and burned it to cinders. Only later did I realise I called it down myself. Unintentional, but the court didn't care for facts. I had killed one of their precious Senators, they wanted revenge, not justice."
</strong>

"I escaped by calling lightning down upon San Quentin. The walls could no longer hold me, and I moved on,"
he shrugged like a dog shaking off water. "Now, the only justice to be found is the one I make myself. The Cartels of Mexico are broken, there is no more murder of children in the streets."


He laughed. "Apologies, you don't have time to listen to me,"
he did not look at all apologetic. "I will get to the point. I came to save you or your men trying to interfere at a later date. I will bring order to South America, if you support this, I will be a friend to the Custody."



Edited by Damien, Aug 16 2016, 11:14 AM.

[Giovanni Cavelli]

((Outside in Red Square))

Giovanni turned to face Jensen. "I could use some food, or maybe a drink. How about going to a cafe."


Giovanni found himself hoping that Jensen would follow. Part of Ordine still lived inside of him, although it was quickly dying. "It might help you calm down a bit."
Givoanni still found himself worried for his friend.

((continued here))


Edited by Giovanni Cavelli, Aug 16 2016, 02:20 PM.

[Ascendancy]

Damien was a showman. His personality flashier than his chuckles. They were playing nice together, trading compliments and titles, but Nikolai was interested in forging a specific alliance at the moment. Should he be turned down, there were other options, but it would be smoothest for all involved if he cooperated.

"I applaud your ambition. South America has been unstable ever since the Venezuelan oil fields turned barren. Their energy crisis and filthy resources strain an already tense continent. Crime and rioting are commonplace. It will be an undertaking worthy of your efforts, but Mexico will have been the easy victory in comparison."


His fingers curled around the arm of the throne, contemplating, sitting in judgement of this soul before him. "I offer my help in such a task, resources, funding, military and most importantly, energy and oil. You'll be amazed at the transformation in humanity once they have a taste of prosperity. When families can afford food and medicine again. To heat and cool their homes. To have a home."


It was an offer he'd made before: join the Custody and accept our aid as one of our own.

"Dominance VIII, Damien. And as their leader, a Patron if you will, your efforts will remain your reward."

"Srike this agreement. And change the western world for the better."

[Damien]

Damien smiled again. At least the Ascendancy didn't mince his words, smooth as they were. Why, they might even get along in time. "No,"
he said simply.

"A tempting offer, but contrary to popular belief, I don't rule Mexico. I freed it from the chains of the cartels,"
he shook his head as if he were genuinely disappointed that he couldn't become Ascendancy's puppet. "I don't intend to fight your wars for you. Who would the United States attack first if they decided to oppose you?"


"However, I didn't come here to reject your offers and show how grand I am,
" his lips twitched at that in self-depreciation. "I don't want your troops, only to reach an understanding."


"I can promise that Mexico and South America retain a healthy respect for the Custody. Free trade and the benefits and opportunities that peace and stability will provide. In any conflicts that arise, I can ensure neutrality."


"All I ask in return is to allow me to purge the corruption unmolested,
" he smiled, his expression chilly. "It costs you nothing, and if by chance I fail? You can capitalise on the damage I cause and finish my job."