VIII-Lux Aeterna (Jordan/Invite)

[Felicia Soler]

Lux aeterna Luceat eis domine
In aeterna quia pius est
Lux aeterna Luceat eis domine
In aeterna quia pius est
Luceat eis et lux petpetua
luceat eis domine

Hotel Angelis
Upper Penthouse Suite
Las Vegas, Nevada

[dropcap]Apparently, both she and her mother agreed that she needed a well-deserved weekend away from the twins and the monotony of married life. Once again having children had forced her to settle down, and while she loved her husband and their babies with all her heart, time alone was something she cherished. All of the Rahal women did. The time they spent alone was never without purpose, and what she had in store was something that her family had been carefully concocting for aeons.

By their very nature, there were times when they needed to be secretive. With all the advances in modern technology, being secretive was becoming more and more difficult to do. It was nearly impossible to escape the sway of the Rahal name regardless of where she went. Either her mother or one of her distant relatives had graced the four corners of the globe with their presence, leaving scientific and technological advancements in their wake. In some ways she envied her daughter, Nireva. Felicia had intentionally kept her shielded from her birthright for as long as she could. Against her instincts as a mother, she'd left her child to fend for herself after nearly two and a half decades of time together. Though Nireva didn't know it—or if she did, she was hiding it very well—Felicia always knew where she was, and was always close enough to intervene in case the peasants came running with pitchforks raised and torches blazing.

There would always be forces in the world who sought to control godsends, just as there would always be certain individuals who made it their life's work to hunt them down and kill them. Her kind had always needed a safe haven to retreat to when the world turned against them. Now that she'd once again entered motherhood, she felt the deep, primal need to protect what was her own. Powerless individuals could never be trusted and would always attempt to find new and creative ways to harness the powers of their godsend counterparts. There were countless examples of this happening during the course of her own life, and it was something she hoped her children never had to endure.

They would need to start small. Full out coups rarely ended well for the initiating party. Her mother had already planted the seeds they would need to sow by aligning herself with the Jung Facility. Inaki was well on his way to climbing up the Company hierarchy, and she'd brushed shoulders with some of the most highly-decorated military officers. Her lips and sweet words could ply the ear of any politician, though politics was child's play. Laws and morality were held together by the thinnest of threads, and it was a miracle that human society had lasted for as long as it had.

She stood gazing out over the entirety of the Las Vegas strip, barefoot, and holding a dark green unmarked bottle in her hand. Before she left, she would have to properly thank the Johessman's for leaving her the suite for a week as she collected her thoughts. Inaki was somewhere across the country working on a mission with the Company; she'd explain everything to him later. Her mother had taken a temporary leave of absence with Lilka to look after the twins. Even though she knew that her children were in good hands, it was still difficult to part with them. That was one aspect of immortality that she'd never really been able to cope with. Goddess-willing this time around if her children were gifted as she was, she wouldn't feel the need to flee once they reached an age of self-sufficience.

The pleasant ringing of the doorbell drew her attention back to the penthouse. Lifting the bottle to her lips, she drank from it for a moment and set it down on the glass table nearest the pool. The sun was starting to set and cast a reddish-golden glow over the desert spanning before her. It was a place that she'd always felt drawn to, though she called the woodlands of Hungary her home. Something about the desolation of the desert excited her knowing that only the strongest and deadliest creatures could prevail in a landscape that appeared incredibly bleak at first glance. But looks were always deceiving.

“The door's open,” she called on her way into the kitchen. There were two bottles set out on the counter underneath the cupboard where the wine glasses were kept. A bottle of 2002 Bond Saint Eden—not her favourite cabernet by far, but it came in handy in a pinch—and another unmarked green bottle she'd left heating up in a pot of tepid water on the stove. She took the two bottles in hand and snagged two empty crystal goblets from the cupboard overhead. “Make yourself at home. I was just outside spitting over the banister and hoping to hit a tourist.” She walked back out to the pool and set both bottles and glasses down before she seated herself on a chintz, padded lawn chair. Curling her legs to one side, she leaned forward and poured herself a glass from the unmarked bottle. The liquid inside had a consistency that reminded her of syrup being poured out of a hot container. It was nearly black in colour and gave off a faint coppery and light herbal scent.

Felicia leaned back in her chair, finally relaxed enough to pay attention to the dark-haired young man seated in front of her. “If you want food, order room service. I don't cook for people I'm not presently sleeping with. Or if you want to make me something to cater to my whims, the kitchen is right there.” She gestured at the kitchen that was clearly visible from where they sat on the patio. “So where's Evelyn? The last time I remember seeing her was when her head was between my legs. Shame I didn't get to see much more of her. From what I remember, she has a really pretty face.” Felicia raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Then again, the last I remember seeing you was between my legs as well. Funny, that.” She paused, chuckling quietly to herself. Okay, that was enough. There were actually serious things they needed to discuss that didn't involve the placement of their faces against various sets of genitals (though that had been quite an enjoyable night).

“You and I are two very enterprising individuals mostly out for our own self-interest. We're also family, however distantly related. Having been born into our rather strange clan comes with a number of responsibilities. Thankfully, you're not immortal, so you don't have to shoulder very many of them.” She swirled the dark liquid around in her glass and took a sip. It tasted somewhere halfway between juniper and vervain. Spicy with a light, dry aftertaste. “Right now—at the risk of sounding all conspiracy theory-ish and cliché—we're on the brink of birthing a brave new world, new world order, whatever the hell you want to call it. The world is constantly in flux, and living in it with the abilities we possess is becoming more and more difficult since there will always be painfully normal and boring humans in the world who give into their jealousy in any number of asinine ways that will eventually end up getting them killed. Probably by me, because my tolerance for ignorant and stupid people is quite thin, and I don't exactly have a glowing track record for putting up with petty bullshit.

“We're looking to form a new organisation that would span the globe because just as there are thousands if not millions of humans wanting to hunt us down and execute our families, there are thousands of individuals like us who want to slay humanity. My mother did that at one point in the very distant past to reset the balance of the world. Mass epidemics and executions certainly have their place in history, but I'd like to think that we've overcome that by now.

“The world doesn't need a new world order. What it needs is a counterpoint to the madness. We have the ability to give normal people powers—we also need the ability to take them away, transfer them, store them, or force them to go dormant for a set period of time. We need assassins and enforcers to maintain the masquerade and keep the peace. And we need someone with your particular expertise who can manipulate the masses. As it is right now, the world is being born back into darkness like it was hundreds of years ago where godsends were considered witches and minions of Satan. They might be using other words to describe us now, but the underlying sentiment is the same.

“We also need a public face. The structure has already been built, and a number of our plans have already been in place for several years. The near destruction of the Vatican, the near levelling of Atlanta, the obliteration of Phoenix—all of these things happened for a reason, though on the surface they only looked like chaos. Each of these events brought about a subtle but monumental change to civilization and society the entire world over. Best of all, most people still haven't recovered from any of these events, and they are still seeking a guiding light.”

Some secret societies like the Illuminati weren't secret at all. This one would be different. “Given your winning personality and your uncanny ability to control the minds of others, I thought you would be an ideal candidate to shoulder the mantle, if you would be so obliged.”[/dropcap]

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ф ф Word count: 1686
ф ф Mood: My breath smells.
ф ф Outfit: This.
ф ф Lyrics / Quote: Lux Aeterna, Libera
ф ф Illustrations: None.
ф ф Comment / Informational links: None.

[Jordan Mercer]

The metal-and-glass elevator slipped quietly up the length of the building. Despite appearances, he thought as he watched the levels pass, the Hotel Angelis was actually a very private place. Certainly, the building itself surfeited on glass, and its minimalist design had lent it a very open feel, but somehow there was a guardedness about it as well. It was the sound, he thought after a moment. Somehow, voices did not travel through the walls, or carry through the halls. Only the faintest noises of the everyday running of a hotel could consistently be heard, and even those faded into the background quickly.

It was an interesting concept. Occlusion disguised by openness. And it was quite fitting, considering the sort of business that often occurred among the hotel's walls.

The murmurs of thoughts flitting to and fro followed and surrounded Jordan Mercer as he made his way to the penthouse. His abilities weren't constant, but sometimes the noise was comforting, like a grey fuzz at the edge of his periphery. He found the door open, just as she had said, and made his way outside. Removing his jacket, he took a seat next to the pool, and folded that jacket over the back of the chair. Felicia joined him not much later, with glasses and bottles.

"I'm fine, thanks." He had learned growing up never to make a visit on an empty stomach. Doing so created an implicit obligation for the host to feed you - and, if he didn't, then you would be neither disappointed nor left starving, because you had already eaten. He did accept the glass, though. It would have been rude not to, since it had been offered; the rules of hospitality were so varied and fickle. Besides, he was thirsty. It was convenient.

There was no change in his facial expression when Felicia mentioned Evelyn, but that had more to do with an uncanny amount of self-control. Evelyn had never been very important to him, aside from her usefulness as a completely oblivious tool, but she had formed some kind of attachment to him, which only enhanced her naïveté. At the moment, she was upset with him for having gone to Las Vegas instead of to her parents' cabin as they had originally planned, but she was always mad at something, and he could always manipulate her back into compliance afterward, so it really did not matter to him much.

And then, of course, there had been the Hallowe'en gathering. He had hoped Felicia would not mention that. Not that the experience had been embarrassing or regrettable - it hadn't been - but it had not been the best impression to make, from his perspective. The memory seemed to amuse Felicia, though.

"Yes, I recall. That was an interesting night." He chuckled and took a sip of wine. The event had been meant in part as an exercise - and showcase - of his abilities, and it had gone quite well, even with Khalidah's own, more powerful influence on the guests. He had made Gabriel proud as well, though Jordan was never sure how much that really meant given that the man could see the future.

Again he raised the glass to his lips, and took a few more sips as the topic changed to a more serious one. He had been surprised at first to learn of his connection to the Rahals, but that surprise had faded and become a fairly comfortable fit. He admired Khalidah and Felicia, even if he had to guard his zipper on occasion around the latter.

She was right, though. There was something happening in the world, and Specials were at the center of it. He had not quite seen anything like it in his twenty-seven years, but he doubted it could lead to anything good unattended, and many of those older and wiser than him seemed to share that sentiment. But if that wave of movement, of potential change and action, could be harnessed, then whoever managed that feat would have the future in their hands, to shape it and cast it as they wished. That person needed to be a Special.

He was a bit wary of eliminating too many normals. Like unto like often proved a poor strategy; and at any rate, a counterpoint meant two sides, even if one side was going to be in servitude to the other. And now, as Felicia pointed out, that side was largely malleable - looking for answers, trying to make sense of their world and the way things truly were… and would be. There could hardly be a better opportunity.

He snorted softly at the words "winning personality," but then nodded. He was certainly interested in helping, but he also knew instantly agreeing to anything was never the best policy. There would be terms, rules of engagement, even among those involved in this organization; he wanted to be clear on those. Besides, the more a person talked, the more they revealed, and not only through the words they said.

"You have my interest." He turned the wine glass between his fingers. "I'll be the one playing the part, misleading the masses, and so on and so forth - but what exactly is the face I'll be wearing? Are you looking for someone to befriend the normals, reassure them that we aren't all walking time bombs? Or a militant, out to start the war the normals seem to want?" A faint, dark smile tugged at his lips. "Not that I'm particularly picky either way. I'm just interested in your approach. But then, given that you say you were behind so many of those devastating events, I think it's safe to say subtlety won't be a large part of my role."

He tapped a finger lightly against the glass, an absent gesture - to all appearances, at least, and to anyone who might not have been paying close attention. "I also take it you have some fairly powerful and influential members among your ranks. I've met Khalidah, of course, and there's also you. But your confidence suggests there's more to it than just a family business."

[Felicia Soler]

Why you resent every making of this
Tell me your purpose is petty again
But even a small lighter can burn a bridge
Even a small lighter can burn a bridge

Hotel Angelis
Upper Penthouse Suite
Las Vegas, Nevada

[dropcap]Damn, he had a good poker face. Thus far nothing she'd said seemed to faze him aside from getting the barest hint of a smile. Maybe she needed to up the ante a bit? Otherwise this was going to end up being a very boring evening, family business and future-of-the-world issues aside. Felicia kicked her feet up on the table and daintily crossed one ankle over the other, rolling her thumb along the edge of her glass. Maybe if she kicked him in the nuts, she'd get a reaction? Oh, wait, right. He could read thoughts. Totally wouldn't see it coming at all.

"You have my interest."

“Saying that isn't taking the edge off me wanting to punch you in the scrotum.” If there was one thing she couldn't be blamed for, it was being a liar. As Inaki had told her on several occasions, she didn't come with an off-switch. “And you won't be playing a part. That's for amateurs. People can see through you really easily when you're pandering to them—just look at politicians. They say what they need to get elected, win everyone's vote, and completely go against all of their campaign promises, because all they were doing was playing a part.” People were mostly idiots, but even the dumbest idiot knew when they were being patronised and lied to.

“And honestly, if anyone's starting a war, it'll be me.” She drained the contents of her glass before pouring herself another. The drink was missing something, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Honey? Maybe. “Your hands are far too clean to get mixed up in all that. Mine, however . . . well, if Hallowe'en was any indication, I tend to leave a trail of blood in my wake. Just ask Devon. I genuinely enjoy war. I like the strategy of it all. I also like killing people when they don't give me what I want. I always get what I want, even if it takes a century. I've got all the time in the world.”

Wine glass in hand, she swung her legs off the table and stood up. She stepped up to the banister separating her from what certainly would have been imminent death some 40 floors below. Without paying it a second thought, she pulled herself up onto the narrow wall and traipsed across it with the skillful, precise moves of a dancer, showing no fear. “See, this is where we differ. I'm a risk taker. You're not. You like to think you are, but then you get muddled up in all the what-if's. What if I lose my balance? What if I fall? What if I die? What if someone pushes me? What if what if what if. It's tiring.” She put her back to him and stared out over the city, to the bleak desert beyond. If she looked off to the north, she'd probably be able to see her mother's house. It was a slightly windy night, and given that she was some 40 stories in the air, the wind currents were much stronger and unimpeded. It blew her hair into her face and made her feel that if she fell, the currents of air would quietly spirit her away.

She closed her eyes and stretched out her arms overhead, listening to the sound of Jordan's voice as it was carried to her on the wind. The element was caressing her like a lover, though she blamed the sudden warmth she felt on the drink in her hand.

"I also take it you have some fairly powerful and influential members among your ranks. I've met Khalidah, of course, and there's also you. But your confidence suggests there's more to it than just a family business."

“It would take you the rest of your natural life to be introduced to the entire clan. We have generations in practically every country, however diluted their blood might be. Family above all.” Felicia paced back and forth on the narrow railing, never misplacing a step. “In order to make this all work, you simply need to be yourself. So I suggest you drop whatever weaknesses and insecurities you have since they have no place here. There are plenty of people in this world who can see right through you and me, and they don't need to be mindreaders.” Sticking two fingers into the glass, she swirled the liquid around and drew them out, coated in the dark substance. She licked it from her fingers and dropped the glass and its remaining contents off the side of the building, sending it to a bloody, shattering death on the pavement below. “A little molasses. That's what it's missing. I'll have to call the kitchen about that.”

Bending her knees, she hopped off the banister and landed back on the deck. She seated herself next to Jordan and reached over to wipe her fingers clean on his sleeve. “I'm gonna go ahead and put on my Dr. Phil hat for a little while, because you vex me.” Felicia sat up and put her chin on his shoulder. His skin smelled clean. “What I've gathered from you is that you shun relationships of all types—which is really a shame because you and Evelyn are just darling together, but that's neither here nor there. You have no friends, because you don't want to risk putting your trust in someone else, because they'll always betray you or do something wrong. So you figure, 'Why bother? I can just manipulate people and get them to do what I want, then I don't have to worry about having my trust broken or being rejected.'” She paused. “But deep down, you're human, and you want to be able to trust people and have them trust you. Or maybe I'm just blowing smoke up your ass. But what the fuck do I know? I've only been around for 740 years, give or take a decade.” She pushed herself away from him and gave him a light sucker punch.

“Your job is going to be getting other people to trust you. Which means you'll need to make connections with them. Which is why I guess Ma saw fit to drop you into that role—because she knew it would make you uncomfortable. Think of it as a test, but it's not a test you can win or fail. It's a trial to see whether you can be trusted, or whether we should set our sights elsewhere. My Ma's choices are never wrong—convoluted, possibly. But this would be a really bad time to decide to be the combo breaker. If that means manipulating people and lying to them for a little while, then so be it. Just bear in mind that the best relationships are the ones that are built on trust, and no one likes a liar.”[/dropcap]

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ф ф Word count: 1228
ф ф Mood: FFFFUUUUU headache
ф ф Outfit: Same as before
ф ф Lyrics / Quote: Bitch Don't Kill My Vibe, Kendrick Lamar
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[Jordan Mercer]

As good as he was at reading minds, Jordan was not always the best at reading people. And so it caught him by surprise to learn that Felicia wanted to injure him quite painfully. He had just given an initial sign of agreement to the plans she requested his involvement with, so why should she be upset with him?

He expected she would explain, though, and explain she did. Unfortunately, the more she spoke, the less clear her own motivations became. There was a disconnect somewhere. Had he misread her? Had she been lying then or was she lying now? In any other case, the solution would have been simple, but at the moment, she was focused on him and aware of what he could do, and - not even considering her own considerable powers - even the slightest peek into her mind would not have gone unnoticed. In fact, he was sure, the attempt would have made the situation even worse.

He watched her balance on the banister. There was a fall of forty-odd stories below her. Just looking at her up there made him dizzy and nauseous. Or was it her words that had that effect? He pushed the possibility from his mind. He could do whatever he wanted to; he need only set that mind of his to it.

Except it didn't make any sense. Why would she want a mind-reader if not to read minds? Once she finally came down from the banister, he allowed himself to breathe and said, "You mentioned my ability, and you suggested manipulating the people in order to lead them. Now you're telling me not to play a part. Which is it? My strengths are in misdirection and management, not in bonding with people."

His initial reaction when she rested her chin on his shoulder was to pull away, but instead of allowing himself to do that, he kept himself still and let her stay there if she wanted. It took away some of his freedom to keep his true expressions in check, but she had already seen though those façades, as her 'Dr. Phil' moment quickly showed. She was completely right, although he had never put those thoughts into words for himself. He kept people at a distance because he distrusted them, and he controlled those closest to him - Evelyn came to mind first - because if he did so, he could be sure they would not betray him. But she was also right about wanting to end that - to develop real relationships with others. He wanted that more than he knew how to say.

But there was one thing that she missed, or perhaps did not think needed mentioning yet - but it occurred to him all the same. If he removed the veil, if he allowed others to see him as he truly was, without his abilities altering their perceptions of him… what would they see?

He might have given himself the chance, might have risen to Khalidah's challenge both for her and for himself, just to see whether he could do it. But he knew the answer to that now. He couldn't do it. He didn't know how - he had been skating by on his abilities for so long that any interpersonal skills he might have had had atrophied and withered away. Better to refuse now and not waste Khalidah's or Felicia's time than disappoint them in the long run.

"I'm not the one you want." Jordan shook his head and pushed away from Felicia. "I'm sure there are others who would be better. Gabriel, for one." His mentor had been much like him for most of his adult life, according to Gabriel himself; a loner, slow to trust but quick to manipulate, albeit possessed of more natural talents in that regard, rather than a special ability. And then he met a woman, and opened up to her; now he had her as a wife, twin daughters, a best friend he loved dearly, and acquaintances who worked with him because they respected him, not out of coercion. It was an exceptional story, even Jordan would admit that, but it did not happen to every man, and Jordan was certain it would not happen to him.

He stood up and set his glass aside. "Thank you for considering me. If I can help in any other way, even with something minor, let me know." He wasn't quite sure what he was doing, for once. He felt as though he might stay and sit or as though he might bolt. "But I'm not the man for this job."

[Felicia Soler]

Throw me a rope to grab on to.
Help me to prove that I'm strong.
Give me the chance to look forward to sayin':
"Hey, listen, they're playing my song."

Hotel Angelis
Upper Penthouse Suite
Las Vegas, Nevada

Where had she told him not to play a part? Or was he just being intentionally obtuse and thick-headed as a way to avoid the inevitable? Try as he might, now that she had her talons in him, it was going to take much more than a few self-deprecating words for him to work his way free.

"You mentioned my ability, and you suggested manipulating the people in order to lead them. Now you're telling me not to play a part. Which is it? My strengths are in misdirection and management, not in bonding with people."

“No,” she drawled the word out and rolled her eyes, “you're misunderstanding me. Your strengths are in misdirection, yes. You're quite good at that, from what little I know of you. Bonding with people is, however, a learned skill, and one where you're dreadfully lacking.” Now it was going to be up to her to retrain his mind to form a new way of both thinking and presenting himself, which she knew was going to be a terrifying prospect to someone who'd built his entire life on only the flimsiest of truths.

When he pushed away from her, she gave him a slighted look and crossed her arms, meeting his gaze with a look of defiance. "I'm not the one you want."

“Tch,” she pushed the breath out from between her teeth, highly affronted. “I was worried that you'd say that.”

He seemed to be at a loss for words, or perhaps he was looking for the most eloquent and least harmful way to back out of the conversation and leave with (most) of his limbs intact. "I'm sure there are others who would be better. Gabriel, for one."

Felicia waved her hand dismissively at him and looked away. “Are you deliberately looking for a way to slither out of this because it makes you feel uncomfortable? People only see what you want them to see. They do not see that which they want to see.” Let him try to reason that one out for a while. She wasn't even sure what she meant. Felicia stood up and stepped over his feet, then did a half-turn which brought her behind the couch. “This isn't Gabriel's arena. This is your arena.” She sat on the edge of the couch behind him and gently drew her fingers down the side of his face and neck until they came to rest on his collarbone. With a gentle nudge of her arm, she tilted his face towards her and pressed his cheek to her outer thigh. “Back when my mother was young, she used to watch Christians being thrown to the lions. Most of them were ripped to pieces, but there were some who were either brave, stupid, or clever enough to fight back and come out alive. This is your arena. Your success or failure is entirely up to you.” She slapped his cheek lightly with her fingers before allowing him to stand.

"Thank you for considering me. If I can help in any other way, even with something minor, let me know." He was certainly caught in a quandary, and she really couldn't blame him for being fearful.

“Don't do me any goddamn favours . . . ” Sighing, resigned, she stared at their reflection in the highly-polished sliding glass doors which led back into the rather expansive and lushly furnished penthouse suite. “Fine. I guess we do this my way, then.”

She covered the distance between the door and the banister in the blink of an eye and gracefully cleared the protective barrier, grasping onto it with her hands and using the excess forward momentum to propel her feet over her head before letting go.

Several seconds into the fall with the ground rapidly approaching, she smiled and outstretched her arms. Oh,if only he knew . . .

-----

Unbeknownst to Jordan, she'd been watching and listening in on their conversation from the confines of the kitchen since it began. Faux Felicia was very nearly doing a spot on representation of her brash personality, but there were still a few tweaks which needed to be made. She poured herself a glass of wine and watched from the window as the conversation drew on. The only thing she could really think about watching the whole thing unfold was just how she'd get herself into bed. With herself. Looking in a mirror and seeing her own beauty was one thing, but actually having a flesh and blood representation of it was incredibly different. She frowned when Jordan stood up, and her 'doppelganger' launched over the side of the building, leaving a stunned Jordan in her wake. In the momentary chaos that followed, Felicia leisurely strolled out onto the patio and took a seat on the chaise longue nearest the door.

At a constant rate of speed, she knew that her 'doppelganger' would hit the ground in roughly 5.3 seconds, if she'd done the math correctly in her head. Three seconds had already passed. “She's really something, isn't she? Always has to make a fucking entrance. Watch.”

-----

She counted a full two and a half seconds before she started making the transition. The thermals rising up off the hot Las Vegas concrete were creating heavy updrafts and wind resistance that would possibly slow her fall for a half second before she hit the ground.

But Lilka didn't intend on dying today, much less dying by her own hand.

Several thousand years of practice made transitioning from one lifeform to another as simple as breathing, even under the most death-defying and terrifying of circumstances. She closed her eyes and drew on the reserves of her strength to initiate the process. The entire shift took just over the span of a second, leaving her with plenty of time to avoid smashing into the pavement below. When she next opened her eyes, she could see the ground below her in more than perfect detail. She could also see the faint fluctuations in the air currents around her and stretched out her massive wings. Banking to the left, she found a thermal current that would bring her up the side of the building with ease.

She locked her eyes on the point where she'd thrown herself over the edge and soared towards it, slicing through the air with her wings. Her long, curved talons playfully skittered across the glass exterior of the building as she came up for a landing from below. A final pump of her powerful wings righted her body, and she grasped onto the banister, steadying herself upon it before folding her wings onto her back. Tilting her russet-coloured head to one side, she blinked her dark brown eyes at Jordan and started preening her long tail feathers.

“I'm afraid you haven't met Lilka yet. She's my great aunt, and most likely the woman you can directly trace your lineage to if you search back far enough. I apologise for the deception, but I had to see just how well she could pull me off.” Felicia took a sip of her wine and shrugged, completely oblivious to how Jordan might have been feeling. Well, not really oblivious. More like 'I know, and don't give a rat's ass, get over it.' “I know it's probably a lot to absorb, so sit your ass down. I'm the queen of this fucking castle, and I haven't given you permission to leave.” Reaching behind her, she grabbed hold of the sliding glass door and slammed it shut. The only way he was leaving would be if he attempted to wrest control of their minds. She'd already let that happen once, and she wasn't about to be made a fool of a second time. “And if I so much as feel you trying to poke around in my head to find a way out of this, let me be the first to break it to you that one, you're not a shapeshifter, and two, you're not immortal, so falling forty stories would probably pulverise you. Seriously, trying my patience—really fucking stupid idea.”

She took another sip of her wine to wet her throat. Oh no, she was far from being done with him, even if it meant verbally beating him into the ground before he cracked. “And don't pull this conciliatory, 'I'm not the right man for the job' bullshit. If you weren't, we wouldn't have bothered vetting you as much as we have. You think you only ran into my mother by sheer coincidence?” If he was in for brutal honesty, she was more than happy to oblige. “First of all, you are the right man for the job for exactly the reason you don't want it. It makes you uncomfortable because you'll be vulnerable. You'll have to become something you're not, as Lilka rather melodramatically tried to prove. You're not human. Humans will never see you as human. The sooner that you understand that most humans won't give a rat's fuck about you, the better.” Felicia's hand shot up in a silencing gesture when she sensed that he was about to try and get a word in. “I'm not fucking done with you yet, so shut your fucking mouth and listen up.” Even though she wasn't raising her voice, she didn't have to raise her voice to scream at him. Her presence and body language were enough to get her point across rather violently.

“Here's a newsflash, sweethheart. Not everyone is going to like you all the time. Some people aren't going to like you at all. Ever. And as much as you want to keep dodging the issue and skirting around it by fucking around with people's minds—which you're actually quite exceptional at, I'll give you that much—keeping up a façade like that is a waste of energy and makes you look incredibly paranoid because you have to constantly remind yourself of who you've told which lie, which is why I'm just dreadfully honest all the time.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched out, yawning. It wasn't that she was angry with him; she wasn't. She was just trying to get him to see a point. “It's been ingrained in your mind that in order to survive, you need to fly under the radar by being a people pleaser or by getting other people to do what you want so that you can get ahead. The real trick is getting people to do those things by not tripping up the wires in their brains. That being said, not everyone is going to like you, Jordan, and they fucking well don't have to like you. Hell, you don't even have to like yourself. God knows I think I'm a right piece of shit sometimes, but that's all a part of being alive, and it's not something you can hide from anymore.”

Felicia held out her left arm and gestured at Lilka to come join them. But Lilka had better things to do like defecate on someone some four hundred feet or so below them. Once she'd finished with that, she soared the short distance between the banister and Felicia's outstretched arm. Her talons curled around the appendage in a vise-like grip and dug bloody holes into her niece's skin—nothing that wouldn't heal within a few seconds of her departure. Felicia stroked the smooth brown feathers on Lilka's back and gently scratched the top of her head and looked pointedly at Jordan who still hadn't moved an inch.

“All of us know that if we let you go, you'll be able to fly. The real conundrum is whether you believe it yourself.”

Довести до белого каления.

ф ф Word count: 2069
ф ф Mood: I want the fuck out of this apartment plz.
ф ф Outfit: Eh, we'll go with this for Felicia because BEWBS. And Lilka is a golden eagle right now.
ф ф Lyrics / Quote: The Music and the Mirror, A Chorus Line
ф ф Illustrations: Golden eagle
ф ф Comment / Informational links: The lyrics were an accident since I was trawling youtube for Broadway showsWHAT IS WRONG WITH ME.

[Jordan Mercer]

The woman was utterly maddening. Jordan had known that, of course, coming into their meeting. He had not expected the discussion to take this turn, however. Sometimes people needed a liar. Sometimes they needed to enter someone's mind. These were his marketable skills, so to speak. Aside from his schooling and a self-taught ability in forgery, that was the extent of his usefulness. He was fully aware of that, and it suited him just fine.

Now it was very… kind of Felicia to want to help him work through some of his weaknesses. He did enjoy learning, so he would have accepted that if it were all she wanted. But she was asking him to learn this new skill in the moment. On the job. This would not be a read-through; this would be the real thing. Felicia and Khalidah's aims would rest largely on is success, and failure on his part risked too much. He failed to understand why they would want to take such a route. It was risky, inefficient, and, while he knew better than to say it out loud, completely stupid.

Her comment on people seeing what he wanted them to see earned a low hiss from the back of his throat that should let her know exactly what he thought of that. People saw what they wanted and did what they wanted; that was why his ability to make mental suggestions was so effective. He could not outright control anyone, but once he planted the idea that someone wanted to do something, they usually went through with it quite quickly.

There was no sense in arguing, though. He had made decision and now he was leaving. She stood as well, and murmured something that Jordan only half-heard in his resolution to get out of the penthouse, but then she was back on the balcony and over the banister. Biting back a swear word, Jordan rushed over to the railing and looked down over it. She was falling indeed, and it wouldn't be long before she hit the ground. Part of him wanted to turn away, and the other wanted to watch, to be sure. He wanted to be sure for when Khalidah would disassemble his body bit by most painful bit for having inadvertently caused her daughter's death.

He felt the presence of a person enter the patio and take a seat. Startled, he turned away instead of watching and was absolutely bewildered to see Felicia sitting there. In attempting to talk, he very nearly choked on his own tongue. "I - you --" He glanced over the balustrade and saw nothing until he leaned a little farther, and a large bird came promenading over the banister. Jordan had no words.

For a few moments, his lips parted in order to say something, perhaps a greeting to his ancestor Lilka or an admonishment to Felicia for scaring him so badly, but the words and his lips never quite agreed on what should come out. Normally he would have refused to sit after a show like that, but he was actually feeling very faint after suffering that massive shock, so he slid into a chair and slouched there, his knees apart and his head in one hand.

He was listening, though, as Felicia threw her worst at him. For the most part, he took the verbal beating in silence, but the moment she mentioned humans not caring about him, he raised his head and started to retort that he was already well aware that no one gave a rat's fuck about him, but she shut him up first. His jaw clenched and his posture tensed, the slouch beginning to fade somewhat, and by the time his ancestral bird had made a new perch of Felicia's arm, he had shifted from shock to exhaustion. And frustration, and anger.

"I don't understand why that was necessary." His phrasing was vague, but he was referring to Lilka's stunt, and their making him believe Felicia really had jumped. Aside from scaring the living shit out of him and introducing him to one of his forebears, he wasn't sure what he had been meant to gain from that. Or perhaps he had underestimated Felicia's bitch factor and she had only done that to scare the shit out of him or show off.

He leaned forward in his chair, feeling stronger now, although he had not realized yet that it was only his fury and frustration and hurt that was allowing him strength enough to do that. "You think you know everything about me, don't you? That you can take a look at me and decide what my motives are, why I do what I do to people, what all my problems are? You can see back into my childhood and my school days and figure everything out about me, that I'm some lost child who needs approval and uses mental manipulation to get it. You've lived for generations, you think you've seen it all, don't you? Both of you." He glared at the eagle for a moment. "No one is different to you, you've seen the exact same traumas over and over again. You know how it all plays out. People live, they make mistakes, they hurt, they die. It all gets repetitious after a while, doesn't it? We all start to look alike. We all start to meld together. No one is different. Well, guess what."

With an unnaturally shaky movement, he reached for his wine glass and tossed it lightly, and caught it in his palm again, unconcerned for its spilled contents.

"You're exactly fucking right."

The wine glass arched across the patio and crashed against the reinforced glass doors.

"I'm no different from any of the other men you've seen live and die. In fact, I'm sure you've seen them make the exact same mistakes I have. Your own descendants, even. The ones who lived out their pathetic lives and died before you'd birthed a fresh generation. Now you fucking shut up and listen." His hands had clenched into fists; his eyes were wide and dark with anger and frustration and longing. A quiet wish that just maybe what he was saying wasn't true.

"When I tell you that I can't do this, I mean it. I can't. This isn't shit I can learn in a couple of days and be able to master and make connections or whatever the fuck you expect me to do, even if I started out lying. No, I'm not going to fly. I don't have the wings."

He rose to his feet. A sneer added an edge to his words, in contrast to the faint nervous tremors that shook his frame.

"Now open the doors or I'll find my own way out."

[Felicia Soler]

It's a very ancient saying,
But a true and honest thought,
That if you become a teacher,
By your pupils you'll be taught.

Upper Penthouse Suite
The Angelis Hotel
Las Vegas, Nevada

[dropcap]Good. He was angry. That meant that she'd touched a chord deep within him, and his anger was most likely stemming from a place of emotional pain. She jostled Lilka off her arm and took another sip of her wine as she waited for the small puncture wounds from Lilka's talons to heal. She'd need to have the holes patched on her jacket as well, but that was something she could do easily enough with a needle and thread. She was used to making her own fabric and clothing from living in eras when traditional American clothing shops hadn't existed.

"I don't understand why that was necessary."

Felicia waited for her feather-covered aunt to return to her natural form as a stately-looking, fully-fledged woman with dark hair and brown eyes characteristic to all of the Rahal matriarchs. “A little fright is always necessary. I find that it heightens the senses to a more complete level of awareness, which you desperately need.” Lilka was rather unimpressed with his attitude. He was probably far more unimpressed with hers, but she had absolutely zero fucks to give about that. His emotional hangups were his emotional hangups, and if she found it necessary to swat a little sense into his cerebral cortex to get him to listen, she would.

The more animalistic side of her nature interpreted his leaning forward as a ploy to demonstrate the dominance he lacked over his present situation. Lilka would allow him to play it out for as long as she deemed necessary or until either she or her niece tired of his juvenile antics. As far as she was concerned, she'd more than served her purpose.

"You think you know everything about me, don't you? That you can take a look at me and decide what my motives are, why I do what I do to people, what all my problems are? You can see back into my childhood and my school days and figure everything out about me, that I'm some lost child who needs approval and uses mental manipulation to get it. You've lived for generations, you think you've seen it all, don't you? Both of you."

Felicia listened to what he had to say and drew her lips into a thin line to keep from smirking at him. She could not, however, hold back the snort of laughter which she tried (and failed) to hide behind a cough. “Well . . . yeah. You'd like to think that you're not quite so transparent, but, well, I'd hate to be the one to break it to you,” she leaned forward and patted him on the knee, letting the smirk she'd been holding back curl her lips upward, “you are.” She leaned back again and glanced at Lilka, so much like her own mother and yet so completely different. There were some things she'd inherited by genetics, and others she'd inherited by spending one too many years in the care of her aunt. “Being immortal really has nothing to do with it.”

"No one is different to you, you've seen the exact same traumas over and over again. You know how it all plays out. People live, they make mistakes, they hurt, they die. It all gets repetitious after a while, doesn't it? We all start to look alike. We all start to meld together. No one is different. Well, guess what." He reached for his glass of wine with a shaky hand, tossed it into the air and spilled its contents, and effortlessly snatched it from the air as it fell. It reminded her of something she'd seen in a movie once. "You're exactly fucking right." he threw the glass with great force against the large sliding glass door.

Neither of the women flinched. “ . . . go on,” she spoke from behind the rim of her own glass as she emptied its contents.

"I'm no different from any of the other men you've seen live and die.”

Felicia considered this for a moment and nodded. She had plenty of responses to that, but since he'd given her the courtesy of remaining quiet during her verbal lashing, she would return the same in kind.

“In fact, I'm sure you've seen them make the exact same mistakes I have. Your own descendants, even. The ones who lived out their pathetic lives and died before you'd birthed a fresh generation. Now you fucking shut up and listen."

Ah, so they had touched quite the nerve with him. Lilka stared directly into his gaze with calm eyes. She wasn't offended in the least by what he'd said since it was the truth.

"When I tell you that I can't do this, I mean it. I can't. This isn't shit I can learn in a couple of days and be able to master and make connections or whatever the fuck you expect me to do, even if I started out lying. No, I'm not going to fly. I don't have the wings." He stood up and stood before the sliding glass doors as if he half-expected them to open of their own volition so he could see himself out. "Now open the doors or I'll find my own way out."

“Are you done yet?” She asked after a lengthy silence, not rising from her seat. “Oh, you were finished. Well, allow me to retort.” God, why on Earth were some men so goddamned difficult to deal with? They may as well all have been children. “First of all, no one said anything about learning this shit in days. Secondly—and I'm going to contradict myself here, big surprise—you've already been flying your whole life. You just haven't realised it yet.” Considering the words that he'd thrown at her not a half-minute before, her voice was quite calm. Caring, even.

“And I don't believe either of us said you'd be doing this alone. Felicia has other things she needs to tend to. I don't—not immediately, at least.” Lilka stood up and opened the door for him, but blocked his exit. “Being what I am, I have a unique insight into why people's minds work the way they do. I'm definitely not a mindreader. Most of my 'mindreading' comes from being able to interpret the slightest changes in body posture, tone of voice, size of the pupils. It helps to know how to interpret these things whether you're attempting to survive in the urban jungle or out in the Congo.” She stood aside for a moment, giving him the option of bidding a hasty retreat.

“I was called here to put those talents to use and burn them into that talented mind of yours. So here's what's going to happen. Seeing as how attempting to so much as even tickle my mind would render you into a permanent coma, we're going to be spending a lot of time together. Starting now. This is not negotiable. You say that you can't do these things, but you can. What's best about this arrangement is that you don't know me, and while I'm more than familiar with your type, I don't know you. Consider it a once in a lifetime learning experience that has the potential to benefit you for the rest of your days.” She made an expansive gesture towards the penthouse suite's entry door.

“Or if you feel it would suit you better, you also have the option of leaving—but we all know you'd come crawling back in a few days. It would nag at your psyche and drive you to the brink of insanity. Your driving force is an unquenchable curiosity and thirst for getting to a person's core to see what makes them tick, as it were. You know as well as I do that what I'm offering to you is an opportunity that you want to sink your teeth into.”[/dropcap]

Довести до белого каления.

ф ф Word count: 1453
ф ф Mood: NERVES FUCKING NERVES I MOVE IN LIKE A DAY
ф ф Outfit: Felicia (with a pair of blue jeans and ass kicking boots), Lilka (with a pair of brown linen pants). I swear to fucking God, it is impossible to find a full body pic of Lana Parrilla wearing anything even remotely close to brown. AND I LOOKED.
ф ф Lyrics / Quote: Getting to Know You, The King and I
ф ф Illustrations: Included in post, I think.
ф ф Comment / Informational links: None. Also, couldn't resist using that song. XD

[Jordan Mercer]

It was an odd feeling, one Jordan had never experienced. Or, perhaps more appropriately and accurately, one he had not felt in a very long time. His body had slumped back in his chair, wine running down his fingers and one pants leg where it had spilled, the muscles that pulled his lips completely slack, his frame shrunk in a position of inferiority, his blue eyes lowered in a sign of submission.

He had given up.

Why they were persisting, he did not know. He had already told them that he would fail. He would be sure to remind them of that when he did. But they seemed to see something in him that wasn't there, and were clinging to it like dryer sheets to a sweater. It was regrettable, really. They were relying a little too much on the slightest chance that Jordan could function among society without the use of his ability, that anyone would not see through him or even give him the time of day. But what was most regrettable about it all was that there was a tiny, minuscule, inescapable part of him that hoped - and believed - that what they were saying was true.

He'd done the impossible before. He had left home and made his way into respectable society in America with no witting help from his parents. He continued to succeed in fooling almost everyone (except the Rahals, most likely) that he actually was American. Of course, that was with his abilities, but still, it hadn't been easy. Now all he had to do was run the same game again, this time without the assistance of being able to manipulate minds.

… that was supposed to have been a positive thought.

When Lilka finally moved out of the doorway, Jordan made no move to get up. He had resigned himself to whatever plot they had in mind for him. For surely they must have one - they couldn't be confident enough to just say "Cool, bye" and expect him to know what to do. He had no idea what to do. He felt as lost as the day he'd stepped off the plane in Boston.

So he looked up at Lilka, his eyes empty and unexpectant. The fact that he had not bolted for the door should have been response enough. He didn't know what else to say. What else they expected him to say. That they were right? Obviously, since he was still sitting there. That he apologized? Hopefully not, because he didn't. And, in truth, he also meant it as a little form of revenge. If they wanted some sort of token for their victory, then fine, they had it, in the fact that he had given himself over to their whims. He wasn't going to give them the words to seal it with.

But, and he had to admit it to himself, that tiny part of him that did believe in himself was satisfied. It was ready for the challenge. It would relish it and learn from it and become greater for the experience. It was, as Lilka had said, a once in a lifetime opportunity. He wouldn't have been able to pass it up.

Now if only that little part could convince the rest of Jordan's body and mind of the same.