Participants:
| Scene Title | Hydra |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Kazimir and Drake discuss business amidst the dead, while a wayward child arrives with ominous portends. |
| Date | January 5, 2009 |
It's hard to realize that it's already noon, with the sky so heavily blanketed in clouds as it is. A cold, light rain falls down on the silent and empty streets of Queens, turning the brown-gray snow into equally filthy slush. Not far from the industrial parks and abandoned concrete tomb of old business, lies tombs of a more traditional variety — Calvary Cemtary.
Hung with a low fog blowing in off of the East River, the cemetary looks like a macabre scene out of some old black and white film; headstones lightly covered in sleet, melting snow turning the ground a chalky white underfoot, and the mist of lightly falling rain shrouding the place in a low visibility. But despite all of its baroque charm, the cemetary does not sleep alone this day. It's many silent occupants have company, in the form of a man who may be the reaper himself, made flesh. Standing at the chain-wrapped gates of a towering mausoleum, Kazimir Volken shadows himself with a black umbrella, clutched in one gloved hand, the other idly rocking his wolf's-headed cane back and forth, grinding the steel tip into one of the granite slab stairs of the crypt. Above and behind the weathered old man, rises a somber looking statue of a winged woman, her eyes shrouded by a blindfold, hands outstretched as if grasping for some unreachable truth.
"The shipmen' is going ou' tonigh', we'll drop the firs' cra'e off at Warehouse Four'een, and th' secon' a'Warehouse Twen'y Seven." Even Lord Volken is not alone amidst the somber majesty of the cemetary, but his company is far less grim than his own countenance. A healthy, muscled man in a black denim jacket, a stocking cap of matching color pulled down to partly hide golden-blonde hair. A Brit, if his accent can be trusted, though no quite the Cockney of Ethan Holme, more the subtly softness of a Mancunian accent.
"One amendment." Kazimir, however, lacks any sort of noticable inflection to his voice, save for the rough and bass-filled sandpaper of a tired old man. "Break radio-silence when contacting Dina for the pickup of the first crate." The order causes Drake to cock his head to the side, shoving cold hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I wish to test a theory of mine, and if I'm right it will kill two birds with one stone."
Yvette has had a day that looked a little bit like a rollercoaster. First it was blah, then good, then crap, then hmm, then slipping slightly over to grrrr. And now, she's out in the rain looking for Kazimir, which hasn't taken as long of a time as it could have, but given that she looks a bit like a drenched cat in a white trenchcoat, it's kind of on the low end of the scale anyway. Now it's time to get to the grumpy old mean crazyman, possibly give him a hug, and then commence with some serious explaining. She might even have to resort to sign language, to it bears against her insides to do so.
Sometimes, you just got to suck it up and deal, though.
When she spots Drake and Kazimir, she makes her way over towards them, walking quietly more for the sake of practise and long grown habit than of any need to be quiet right now. She does not call out a greeting, for obvious reasons, but makes her way over towards the old guy instead.
"Sir? Tha's puttin' th'girl in a whole worl' a'trouble." Drake tilts his head to the side, reaching up to scratch beneath the side of his cap. Slowly, though, it begins to dawn on him as to that being part of Kazimir's plan. His eyes narrow slightly, and he nods his head in one quiet motion. "You wan' us t'keep an eyes-on presence across th' water? I can have Ellin— "
"Just use the scouts." Watching Yvette's rainsoaked form wander through the cemetary as he speaks, Kazimir's expression osftens some, seeing the white silhouette of her form drift like some lost spectre towards where he and Drake converse. But he does not break his conversational stride, only affording the young woman an acknowledging nod of his head. "Ellinka has other assignments that ned to be her primary focus. Have she and Rico finished with the bomb-laying on the bridges?"
It's hard for Drake not to turn and look over his shoulder when Kazimir nods to someone behind him, and Drake's side-long regard of Yvette sends a quiet shivver down his spine. While she is "family" in as much as any member of the Vanguard is, there's osmething haunting and otherworldly about the girl, something unnatural and light; something fae and supernatural. But she's Kazimir's protected, and God knows what monsters lurk in the shadows to safeguard her. "Aye, 'Linka and Rico've got th' explosives all set, they armed th' last bridge two days ago." Turning back to face Kazimir as Yvette ghosts her way to the master's side, the former SAS agent shifts his footing uncomfortably.
"Good." Once Yvette has moved to his side, Kazimir shifts his umbrella to the hand closer to the girl, using it to shelter the both of them now from the cold rain in an unspoken and uncharacteristic gesture of kindness. "The situation there is win-win for us. If the bombs detonate, we've isolated Manhattan for the final operation. If they're discovered, the sheer chaos that will cause in the disposal will cripple the city for days. When you return to base camp, let Hans know that the terminus date for our operation is January 28th."
Yvette's eyes glitter a bit and are crinkled up in a smile as she joins Kazimir under the umbrella. She splays the gloved fingers of her right hand over his heart, sending the warm trickles of affection swimming around in his gut. It's love. Creepy, strange, and filled with a definite liking for pain, but love none the less. Then she turns around and studies Drake for a while, head falling to the side as if someone cut off the strings to a puppet's head. There's nothing dead about her eyes, though, and it would seem he's getting a more thorough once over than he has before.
For whatever reason.
Then she turns back to her father, looking up at his face with a hint of a frown to her face, and the sensation in his gut shifts and changes. From love to caution, a slight twinge of adrenaline. She's come to warn him about something. Given the look Drake got before, she might not be entirely willing to warn in public, either, or even make any notes about there -being- one to share.
Emotions. It's a terrifyingly human concept. Something Kazimir feels without the deadened numbness of his host-body only in Yvette's presence; her very gift makes him feel alive again, reminds him of who he was, who he is, and what he's become. It's a bittersweet idea, and one that causes a tumultuous shifting of thoughts inside of the old man's mind.
"Aye, Sir." Drake gives his curt response, bowing his head, though keeping his eyes upturned to study Yvette back quietly before he straightens again. "I… I'll leave y'to yours, Sir. Raft ain't goin' t'wait forever in this rain." There's an approving nods cast from Kazimir as he raises his cane, motioning to the side with it as if to quietly infer you may go now. Drake takes the cue, dipping his head once more towards Yvette before his gloved hands reach up and flip the collar up his jacket up over the back of his neck.
As the British soldier stalks off deeper into the cemetary, through the ankle-deep fog and towards the shoreline of the East River, Kazimir gradually turns his focus to the young woman so close at his side. "What secrets have you come to impart on me, my dear? You've been as difficult to find as ones' own shadow at mid-day as of late." Blue eyes narrow slightly, and from Kazimir's sleeve a small brown spider scuttles down and onto the back of his gloved hand, then down further along the haft of his cane. "You have been missed."
Spiders. They're pretty interesting creatures, normally, but today they don't really hold much interest for Yvette. Instead she exhales in a huff of breath and frowns a tiny bit more. There's a shift of glee as Kazimir points out she's been difficult to find, and she just taps two fingers to his chest. His own darn fault, that. Who taught her how, after all? If he weren't looking so crappy right now, she might have to ask him for a sparring session. It was a while since they did that.
Either way that goes, though, there's a long pause. As if she's looking for words, though that's not precisely what it is. Instead, she sends one of her darker set of emotions running through his gut. Danger. Anger. Deep suspiscion. And also a light touch of being betrayed. Serious matters, that's for sure. There's another prolonged pause before she nods towards the cane he holds in his hand, the one with the wolf's head.
These are not easy words, but something is wrong, damnit.
That particular poison had already been dribbled into Kazimir's ear, so to speak. Though merely a few drops. When Yvette conveys the emotions, at first Kazimir's reaction is mixed; there's no given target at first, save for himself. But when the cane is motioned to, that cane, the one given to him by Ethan so long ago, it all begins to melt together into some form of cohesion. Lowering his brows, Kazimir's expression hardens, not an anger directed to Yvette, but certainly to the situation he finds himself in.
"So Fenrir seeks to come chew out the throat of Odin, does he?" Blue eyes narrow further, and Kazimir's grip around the steel head of his cane tightens, accompanied by the creaking of his leather gloves as they flex. "Can you be certain? What did you see?" His eyes remain soft, despite their narrowing, as they search Yvette's red eyes. "Complex topics, such as this. I will not frown upon you using your sign-language to communicate." He does so push her to master hr ability, but his patience with Mister Holden has reached its breaking point. "Clarity is the matter of the day."
Yvette shakes her head slightly at 'sure'. There are few things sure in these matters, but there are definite suspiscions. She halts a moment when he mentions her sign language. She knows it, sure, but it's not something she prefers to use. ~At least you're not one of the daft ones, trying to stick a notepad under my nose at the first oppourtunity.~ She'd run into a few of those lately, and they were really less than amusing. No creativity, there.
~Unfortunately, I cannot be sure. But he handed me something that could have easily held an electronical spy device, and when I showed the slightest hint of not believing that it was 'because pretty girls need them'.~ As if that wasn't strange enough in and of itself. A /necklace/, of all things. ~He reacted with several classical signs of stress, including attempting to reclaim the gift. It is difficult to put in words the things his body told me. But.~ And that's a pretty important but, there. ~Something has definitely changed.~
"A close informant of mine has been put in charge of keeping tabs on Mister Holden, however I was not able to arrange this until after I was made aware that he left the country." There's a bit of a sneer as Kazimir curls his lips into a frown. "I trained him well, but I am beginning to fear that his loyalties are waning, so your suspicions only…" He hates to admit it, "Confirm my own."
Ethan was a son to him, or as close as he might have ever had. But now Kazimir is faced with the prospect of having Ethan turn on him, turn on the Work he has struggled for so long with. "Do you still have the necklace, the one Ethan wished to gift to you?" Kazimir lets his head tilt to the side, giving Yvette an askance glance. "Or did he confiscate it once you showed your reluctance?"
~I have it, though I do not think you will find anything on it. It seemed.. more subtle than that.~ Yvette shruggs slightly. ~What concerns me more than the necklace, though, is the fact that you have put much faith in him. I know many of the others obey him without much question, he seems to hold Wu's loyalty.~ And this means that if that perticular apple has decided to jump out of the bin, he might not be going alone. ~There's only so much here you can do alone.~ And yet, the help might not be entirely forthcoming. It's an odd discussion, though, she realizes. Talking about things that, in the long run, are really designed to kill her as well. Kill her well and properly dead. One might argue she should help the other side.
~Anyway.. he wanted to confiscate it, I think.~ But she wasn't quite willing to let him do that. ~What other indications have you had?~
"My informant has slipped word to me…" Kazimir notes with a tired tone of voice, taking a step down from the granite stair in front of the mausoleum, beginning to walk through the graveyard with Yvette. "Ethan's weakness is one Amato shares, the fairness of Munin. Her loyalty has already been lost, her stomach for the grand design undone. My informant fears that Munin has swayed Ethan to betray me." He pauses, in word alone, still continuing his casual stroll between the headstones alongside the phantom-like girl. "But do not fear, I am never alone."
"Nearly all of the Vanguard's operatives are present just outside of the city as we speak; some two hundred men. Over a hundred more offshore on a ship, all working towards our common goal. Ethan has been given the opportunity to think he is the head of the beast, but in truth he is but one of many. Vanguard is like the mythic Hydra," Kazimir gestures broadly with his cane, as if to imply the wide reach of the organization, "Many heads, all working with the same body. Drake, the man you saw here, works much as Ethan does. In the end, it is Ethan's own faction that will be severed." A faint, although still grim smile manages to creep up on Kazimir's weathered lips. "Ethan, Wu-Long, Odessa, Elias, Munin; they will all die for the greater good." The smile fades from Kazimir's face entirely, "They are small actors in my play, and their roles are coming to an end. You and I, my Yvette, will be among the few left standing in the end."
Yvette glides over the ground next to Kazimir, and after a brief check to make sure no flesh is exposed, she wraps an arm around his midsection. Her protectiveness towards him is obvious in his gut, but also a bit in her actions. He's by far the older and more experienced, but that doesn't really mean all that much in all of this. One hand flashes some quick, half halted signs. ~Was a long time since we sparred, you know.~ There's a crinkling of her eyes then as she drops her hands, not really willing to use them for communication anymore. The details that needed passing on had been so, and that was it. There's mischeviousness tugging at Kazimir now, though. Playfulness, almost. Like there's a certain girl that might just shove him into a mudpuddle, given half a chance.
Maybe.
The sound of laughter from Kazimir is an alien thing, save for in Yvette's presence; where he can feel. The sound isn't entirely a nautral one, so rough and coarse, but it makes the honest look of a smile on his face seem all that more unique. "I was younger back then, my Yvette. This body is old, brittle and weary now." So many more wrinkles since she was a child, so many more years of constant waking and working have drawn that face down, made him seem so much older and wearier than she first knew him as. But given how old the body truly is, it is a miracle that he still even walks.
"Soon, though, I can promise you that will change." There's an earnest tone to his voice, a father promising to play with a child when work is done. "There will come a time, where my youth will return, when my strength will be at its greatest yet. Then, Yvette, then we will be able to be as we once were. That time is coming soon, sooner than the end of all this… So I just ask you be patient."
There's a long huff of exhaled breath, in pretended complaint. But it's obvious enough that she's not that serious about these things. Things will be as they will be, sooner or later. Or they wont, and it doesn't really matter that much. However, while Kaz's body must be protected, there's nothing that says his dignity must be. Not here, when there's nobody else around. So, she stretches lazily, and funneling water with hand and glove, splashes some to trickle down inside his coat, before mirth dances in his belly and she slides away and out of reach. Maybe he can't follow now, but she has no doubt he'll find a way to make with revenge. Later.
The reaction is delayed, a fraction of a second for deadened nerves to react and interpret the sensation of ice cold water trickling down into the back of his suit. Kazimir shivers, rolling his shoulders back and craning his head to the side as he exhales a shuddering breath. One brow raises as his lips press together in a stern look of disapproval even as Yvette slinks away and begins wandering through the headstones like some fae creature. But the reproachful stare only lasts so long, soon replaced by that alien expression again — a smile.
When the eyes of the Vanguard do not watch, save for the compound ones of the Widow, Kazimir Volken reveals himself to truly have a heart. And in watching Yvette skip away, playful as a sprite, he longs for the day when the world is as silent as a tomb, and it is his world to share alone with her.
It is a twisted wish, but they are a twisted family.
 January 5th: You Were Leaving |
 January 5th: Sleeping Over |