Post by Drænník Foravían on Feb 14, 2016 13:36:54 GMT -5
The sound of splintering wood and glass was only mildly satisfying but the Fiend forced himself to relax his gloved fist: nothing would be accomplished by the demolition of one of his workspaces. Drænník slowly exhaled, directing his gaze to move over the contents of the room as he worked through a summary of his current situation that would allow him to continue working. The fact that Alpha seemed to have gone cold on dear Fureya was troubling and the Fiend needed to analyze why so that he could plan his next series of moves better.
Fureya was here in the City and the Fiend had expected Alpha to express some sense of urgency in her direction. His complete lack of reaction either meant the Magistrate already had a reliable way of dealing with her or else he was in possession of the information Drænník could offer before the Fiend's report.
His jaw tightened.
He couldn't rule out the possibility that Zenethrakarna had been actively focused on the odd little rendezvous in Eighth District, but it simply did not seem likely. There was something he was missing and realizing it was maddening. The thing he didn't know or understand could ultimately be his undoing if he wasn't careful. The only thing that was clear was that he needed to figure out how to track Fureya's movements in a quantifiably accurate way. If he wanted a real chance at making a second first impression on the silver-haired vixen the only way it could happen in a way that wasn't controlled by the Tower was if he could interact with her on the outside of Tower politics.
Drænník sighed.
If only the situation could be remedied easily by simple abduction. . . He had certain tools at his disposal that could find blood in a boulder if he said it was there. The unfortunately side effect to some of those tools was untimely death and the Fiend couldn't afford to gamble with Fureya's living status. At least, not until he could procure an alternative.
The Fiend straightened, adjusting the snow white fabric at each wrist and taking a moment to smooth back charcoal hair just so.
He realized there would be no more progress on the Fureya conundrum until he could step back again and separate his emotions from it― a difficult task considering just how integral she was to a great deal too many of his machinations. The little tart really was a veritable master key and, to his vexation, he wasn't the only one on the field that knew it. Grey eyes slid from the rustic accoutrements of the study as he abruptly turned and moved into a more modern layout― one that more closely resembled and actual laboratory. After taking the time to remove both gloves and secure them in his jacket pocket, bare fingertips brushed against the smooth, black surface of the wide island fixture in the center of the room. Soft, blue track lighting began to slowly increase in brightness, taking the ambiance in the room from quiet and serene to something more reasonable for working conditions. The entire exterior of the island became more animated, emanating a gentle hum as a holographic interface formed in front of the Fiend. Drænník raised both hands, swiping and pushing and letting his fingertips "tap" along the interface comfortably. The scrolling lettering was apparently precisely what the Fiend expected because as he read the corners of his mouth twitched into a small smirk. Pausing for the moment he stepped away from the island, the heel of his shoes clattering pleasantly against the marble flooring, to a small containment case recessed into the wall. There was a pressurized click and release and the door to the case eased open at the palmed command of the Fiend: Drænník reached into the case and retrieved a sealed vial of blood-colored liquid. After holding up the vial to view its contents through the light the Fiend closed the door to the containment case firmly to ensure it resealed properly and pocketed the vial.
While he had the opportunity he intended to continue his research. . .
Fureya was here in the City and the Fiend had expected Alpha to express some sense of urgency in her direction. His complete lack of reaction either meant the Magistrate already had a reliable way of dealing with her or else he was in possession of the information Drænník could offer before the Fiend's report.
His jaw tightened.
He couldn't rule out the possibility that Zenethrakarna had been actively focused on the odd little rendezvous in Eighth District, but it simply did not seem likely. There was something he was missing and realizing it was maddening. The thing he didn't know or understand could ultimately be his undoing if he wasn't careful. The only thing that was clear was that he needed to figure out how to track Fureya's movements in a quantifiably accurate way. If he wanted a real chance at making a second first impression on the silver-haired vixen the only way it could happen in a way that wasn't controlled by the Tower was if he could interact with her on the outside of Tower politics.
Drænník sighed.
If only the situation could be remedied easily by simple abduction. . . He had certain tools at his disposal that could find blood in a boulder if he said it was there. The unfortunately side effect to some of those tools was untimely death and the Fiend couldn't afford to gamble with Fureya's living status. At least, not until he could procure an alternative.
The Fiend straightened, adjusting the snow white fabric at each wrist and taking a moment to smooth back charcoal hair just so.
He realized there would be no more progress on the Fureya conundrum until he could step back again and separate his emotions from it― a difficult task considering just how integral she was to a great deal too many of his machinations. The little tart really was a veritable master key and, to his vexation, he wasn't the only one on the field that knew it. Grey eyes slid from the rustic accoutrements of the study as he abruptly turned and moved into a more modern layout― one that more closely resembled and actual laboratory. After taking the time to remove both gloves and secure them in his jacket pocket, bare fingertips brushed against the smooth, black surface of the wide island fixture in the center of the room. Soft, blue track lighting began to slowly increase in brightness, taking the ambiance in the room from quiet and serene to something more reasonable for working conditions. The entire exterior of the island became more animated, emanating a gentle hum as a holographic interface formed in front of the Fiend. Drænník raised both hands, swiping and pushing and letting his fingertips "tap" along the interface comfortably. The scrolling lettering was apparently precisely what the Fiend expected because as he read the corners of his mouth twitched into a small smirk. Pausing for the moment he stepped away from the island, the heel of his shoes clattering pleasantly against the marble flooring, to a small containment case recessed into the wall. There was a pressurized click and release and the door to the case eased open at the palmed command of the Fiend: Drænník reached into the case and retrieved a sealed vial of blood-colored liquid. After holding up the vial to view its contents through the light the Fiend closed the door to the containment case firmly to ensure it resealed properly and pocketed the vial.
While he had the opportunity he intended to continue his research. . .