"Your father was supposed to return it. For years we believed what you'd said, that he'd taken your brothers and abandoned you."
"At the time it seemed the best thing to tell you Aleister. I had no reason to trust any of you."
"Its entirely understandable now Rayna, but it doesn't change the fact that we need the journal back and your father was the last to have it. St. John and Jason are prepared to go to New Orleans to retrieve it."
"Really Aleister, you're going to send those two thugs? Let me go. Its been years but I'm more familiar with New Orleans then anyone else here."
He regarded her for long moments after her words, finally giving her a slow nod, "As you wish Rayna. You've proven yourself over the past few years but do not think you will not be monitored. The journal returns.... and you along with it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She replayed the conversation in her head over and over again on the long flight from London to New Orleans, mulling over Aleister's words as she settled into the hotel room. This was a dangerous game she was playing, a long game, one she'd never expected to succeed for as long as it had.
Returning to New Orleans was surreal. In some ways it was like stepping into the past, familiar sights and sounds surrounding her like a nostalgic dream. But then again, so much had changed. The first few days after arriving in town she'd simply accustomed herself to the city, in some ways being the tourist, in others setting out the first feelers of roots. A car was the first purchase, the Sky appropriate in more ways then one, savoring the joy of riding with the top down. A visit to some of the jewelry stores in town, examining the work on display, leaving her card here and there to begin networking with some of the jewelers in town. All carefully done to keep focus from what she truly wanted to do, check on the one reason she had to come back here.
Finally it was time to step into the past, to visit the old homestead. She'd dressed carefully for her visit to the old home, slipping iinto a pair of second-skin jeans, artfully faded to a pale blue. The shimmer of gold straps of the gladiator style Jimmy Choos espadrills gleamed with every step, lifting her to almost 6'. The semi-sheer cream top sagged from one shoulder, the asymmetrical hem flirting about her hips. A wide brimmed hat was tugged over the spill of dark hair, shading her features as she made her way from her room and down ot the hotel lobby. A smile and fingerwave given to the conceirge, "My car Anton" barely waiting for his acknowledgement before she swept outside. The valet brought the Sky around, handing her into the vehicle with an appreciative smile. "Ta darling."
It didn't take long for her to drive from the Quarter to the Garden District, making her way through the streets that had once been so familiar. She slowed the car as she drove past the home that had once been home, finally guiding the car the curb to park. She slipped from the car, slow strides making her way along the sidewalk. A murmur under her breath, a flick of her fingers to bring a swirl of breeze about her before it went searching through the house that she once knew so well. Her head cocked slightly as she listened to the sounds the breeze brought her, frowning slightly at the sounds of the occupants within. Did she want to meet the new resisdents? No, not for a first visit. Her fingers flicked again, dispelling her breeze even as she continued on her idle stroll along the block.
-- Edited by RAYNA BLACK on Friday 12th of August 2011 11:45:43 PM
Jett walked the streets, cigarette in mouth, with hands stuffed into pockets, and head down slightly, gazing at the sidewalk. It was not a very picturesque moment for a police officer to be seen in. Fortunately for him, he had other ways of being alert, aside from using his eyes. A current of electricity flowed beneath his feet. Not anything so powerful that it would short circuit power lines or lights, but just enough to be aware of the footsteps, and movement of vehicles about him. As he heaved a sigh, a puff of smoke billowed from his lips. Nearing the border of the French Quarter and the Garden District, he'd raise his head, and lift his eyes to scan out over the horizon. In the distance, he could see the old home. The place he once lived.
In that moment of recognition, flashes of the past came to his mind...
A flare of flame filling the room in a bright orange light, the delayed yell of pain, only to be cut off by anger, as despite the pain, they'd persist. But it was too late. Another swath of fire blanketed the room in orange light, raising those wails once again, only to be cut off as their bodies melted and burned away, eventually to ash. He was young, still, and he stood there, his eyes alight with fear, anger, and at the same time, delight.
She was there, laying naked on the floor. Her clothes, what left of them, lay in tatters across the floor. Welts from the lash of whips blistered red from blood along her back, legs, stomach, and chest. He was young, but she was nearly a woman now, blossomed, and even then hoped that she had not been used in that way. But, despite the abuse, she got up on her own, cleaned herself off, got dressed, and took him from the room. The bodies were hidden, so that the police would not imprison him. Even more so than before, Rayna became like a mother to him.
The thoughts, lingering back to those times, did nothing but stir up the emotions of those times as well. As this occured, he moved and leaned against a building wall, bringing a hand up to his head, grasping at his temple, as he cringed. The power was pulled back, and held in as he also attempted to hold in the anger that swelled in him. Even after all these years, he couldn't seem to let go of the feelings held for what had been done to him and his sister.
-- Edited by JETT BLACK on Saturday 13th of August 2011 12:14:49 AM
The breeze brought a hint of cigarette smoke to swirl around her; something none but the most sensative would notice but she was in such tune with the air itself it was something that drew her notice. Smoke and this house... it brought back memories, echoes of pain.
"Useless, you're just useless," the words a snarl, punctuated by the shriek of leather cutting the air befor that wet smack of it hitting flesh, her flesh, each impact sending a shockwave through her body. She knew better then to scream, hands laced over her head as she curled into herself, providing the smallest possible target, forcing them to focus their blows on her back. The coppery scent of blood, her blood, filled the air, the scent of it making her gag, wishing she could focus enough to waft the scent away. Jett was there then, pleading, she couldn't make out the words but she peeked, painfully uncurling her arms to look at him, to shake her head. Then the flames began. A roar of sound, smoke and screams and that horrible smell.
And then it was over. "Its ok Jett." She managed the words, through her pain still sounding calm, soothing. She uncoiled, dragging the bits of her clothing about her, wincing as she cleaned away the worst of the blood before finding a shirt to pull over her slender form. "C'mon kiddo.. lets get out of here ok?" She curled an arm around his shoulders, turning him away from what had been their father, tipping her head to lightly brush a kiss over his hair. "Its ok. We'll be ok." She'd deal with the mess later, for now she had to take care of her little brother.
"Jett," she murmured his name, sighing softly as she sought to chase away the memories. The abuse to her body had all healed, barely leaving any scars behind but having to leave Jett left her aching inside. Did she dare to seek him out? Aleistar was monitoring somehow, she never knew just how he did it, the bastard too proficient with his own gifts. Not to mention all those that reported to him. She continued to wander along the street, idly observing what had been her old neighborhood as she remained lost in her thoughts.
"Every little flash back, every little tinge of emotion. You have no control!"
"I'm still waiting on a book from James to work on control."
"A book can't give you control, you should practice more."
"You know I have to earn a living. I can't practice for control, if I don't have the money to feed and shelter myself."
"In the old days, there were many that survived without your stupid shelter. They lived in caves, built their own homes without any money."
"Shut up...."
"Some didn't even need physical homes, their bed was the grass, their roof was the trees, their walls was the wind."
"Shut... UP!"
Heat rode on the air, a brewing of flame. Silence filled his mind then, at least silence of speech, for a bellowing laughter would replace words in his head, as he hunched over a bit grasping tighter at his head. This time, his other hand accompanied such task, seizing his head from both sides as he tried to bottle back that anger.
Another hint of scent, heat and flame teasing on the breeze. The scent drew her deeper into memory even as her path angled to follow the teasing scent.
The slamming of a door, the scent of flame, smoldering cloth and the sharpness of ozone. "Jett?" She moved from the kitchen to the front of the house, meeting him as he stormed inside. "Its alright kiddo," she knew just by that scent he was upset, anger causing that flare of heat from him. "C'mon now, I bought ice cream today." She cajoled him from his upset with a smile and the promise of the treat, soothing away the anger before it could erupt.
She looked up as the sound of traffic changed, as she moved from the Garden District to the edges of the French Quarter, suprised she had walked so far, lost in her thoughts. She glanced around her, trying to reorient herself to just where she'd wandered, the area having changed in the years she'd been gone.
Memories of pain came and passed, as he slid down along the wall, to sit on the sidewalk, gripping at his head. Memories of pain, of anger, of flame, and of blood eventually drifted away, and soon, memories of her in perfect beauty would replace them.
Memories of her going to parent-teacher meetings, claimedly in place of their father because he was busy with work and could not come down himself, and returning home, always looking dressed up. Despite her youthful appearance, the way she treated him, the way she acted, always made her look even older. Not in a bad way, she was still quite trim, curvy, and beautiful. She would give him that scorned look due to the trouble he had caused in school, then rapidly changed that look to one of sorrow, for she knew better than anyone else that he could not control it so easily. He would be pulled into a hug, head nestled into her bosom, as she would, as always, soothe him with a soft humming.
Such memories helped soothe his mind, as sooner or later, his anger would seep away, the laughter in his mind would silence, and he could relax his body. Slowly, he'd release his head, and slip his back to the wall again. His arms would drop to his sides, as he sighed in relief. He looked around quietly, thankful that there was no one around to witness this display. With that realization calming him further, he would pick himself up to his feet once more, and dusted off his uniform. He'd raise his hand, and check his watch, heaving a sigh.
"I gotta get back on track with my route..." he muttered softly.
She wished that Jett could see her, carefully balanced on a column of air as she reached for the safe set high on the wall. He'd never believe it, never believe she'd gotten this much control.
"Focus Rayna!"
The blow struck her unaware, shattering her concentration, letting the wind that supported her drift away to a breath of air, spilling her to the ground. She blinked, looking up at St. John where she stood smirking above her.
"I was focused," she wiped the trickle of blood from her lip from where his fist had hit.
He snorted softly, tugging lightly at his cuffs as he settled his sleeves beneath the tailored jacket he wore. "So you enjoy my striking you? I didn't realize you had leanings that way. I will be sure to remember that in the future." He leered at her, eyes skimming over her body as she drew herself back to her feet.
She shook off the memories, frowning slightly as she slipped into the past again. The nostalgia of being here was stirring up so much of the past, good memories and bad. She looked around her again, considering turning back to retrieve her car before continuing onward. The day was nice enough that walking was enjoyable and she could always send someone to pick up her car.
She settled her purse more securely under her arm, her pace a simple idling walk, a beautiful woman enjoying the afternoon in New Orleans. Beneath the shading of her hat brim her eyes were busy, constantly surveying her surroundings as she walked.
Rayna lay on the ground, her clothes in tatters. Mathias seemed to enjoy deliberatly angling his whipping so that her clothes would tear, and bare her flesh. The others didn't seem to show the same fixation, but nor did they seem to try and stop him from it. She wasn't considered one of them, because she could not control her powers as well as they had been able to at her age. This made her nothing more than a animal, an unintelligible thing.
"Stop!" Jett bellowed out, as he walked into the room.
"What are you doing here, killer?" asked their father.
"Shut up!" Jett yelled, as he balled up his fists, and gave an angry look at his father and brothers.
They merely laughed, and to accent on their lack of feeling in response to Jett's angered look, Mathias gave one more crack of the whip to Rayna's body, which buckled her bra, spilling that pair of small, still growing breasts, to the air. Quickly Rayna balled up and tried to hide herself.
"Please, Jett, don't worry about me." She'd say amidst choked up sobs of pain.
"Yes, murderer, go, and leave her to her punishment, lest you incur my anger, and I put you with her."
With the following silence, Rayna cringed, and balled up tighter, preparing for the next lash of the whip. However, the sound that would come next was not the cracking of the whip, but the growling sound of Jett's voice as he ran forth, and shoved his hands at Mathias, teetering him a bit, but not knocking him over. Rayna uncurled her body enough to roll onto her back as gently as she could to see what was going on. "Jett!"
Nigel would pull Jett from Mathias, and toss him, like a piece of cloth, at Rayna. Jett fell into Rayna's body, her arms opening up to catch him as he fell onto her. Then, the whip came, across Jett's back, forcing his yelp of pain into the cushion of her body.
"You're pathetic..." came the unknown voice, but in the delirium of his pain and anger, he merely thought it to be one of his brothers.
"I told you... Shut... up..."
"The kid's gone crazy now, hearing things," Nigel said, as he, Mathias, and Oliver laughed aloud.
Jett pushed away from Rayna's body, even as she tried to grip onto him, and keep him in her arms. His eyes glowed with an energy like static electricity. He turned to his brothers and father, and gnashed his teeth.
"I said... Shut UP!"
He thrust his hand out, as electrical energy sparked at his fingertips. His father and brothers all looked at him in wonder, but that wonder would be short lived as the charge of energy burst within his palm without being shot forth, simply shooting him out of Rayna's grasp, and tummbling across the stone floors to the wall, where he would fall unconscious.
Before Jett slipped fully into unconsciousness, he would hear his brothers and father laughing out loud, as they left the whip, and left the room. Amidst their laughter, he would once more hear that voice.
"Hopeless..."
Jinnzou, as he had come to be called, was always trying to sway Jett's moods, and gain control. But, over the years, Jett had learned how to police his own emotions much less the streets of New Orleans. A lot of the time it was harder than others, but for now, there was no breaking through. Even as Jinnzou tried to feed more memories to incur anger, Jett kept his calm.
A heaved sigh would usher him forth, back away from the wall he had been leaning against, back to the streets, walking the way he came. Yet, as he walked, he couldn't shake a certain sense of nostalgia that seemed seperate from the memories Jinnzou was using to try and instill anger in Jett. After a few more strides, he would come to a halt, and at the corner of the road, would stop and glance about. Just down the road heading into the French Quarter, he would spy a woman. His eyes became locked on her as he seemed compelled to run to her. He kept himself from doing so, for how would that look, and how would he explain it?
-- Edited by JETT BLACK on Saturday 13th of August 2011 08:37:17 PM
"You know, if you were just nicer to me then maybe I might see if I can get Dad to leave you alone." Mathias had trapped her again, pinning her in the corner of the kitchen, his hands on the counters keeping her from escaping. His head dipped, looking down her body, following the neckline of her shirt with her eyes as if urging it lower. "But you spend all your time babying him instead."
"I have to finish dinner Mathias, you know Dad doesn't like it to be late." She was trying to keep the tremor from her voice even as she shrunk back away from him.
"You're growing up Rayna and you're useless for anything except..." he let the words trail off, leaning closer to her.
"Rayna! Where's the goddamn food!" Their father's bellow had them both starting, Mathias reacting by reaching up to fist his hand in her hair, dragging her out of the kitchen despite her cry of pain. "She was wasting time again Dad. I think she needs another lesson."
The lesson began as usual, starting with fists and quickly escalating to belts and whips, Mathias' eyes becoming more and more heated as he focused on stripping her clothes even as her father seemed to savor the stripes of crimson he painted on her skin.
"Dammit... stop thinking about it!" she muttered the words to herself as she sought to cast off the memories. It was like there was something in the air, something triggering the memories, drawing her back again and again into the past. She'll never get the journal if she stayed caught up in the past. And Jett. Was she going to try to see him? Did she dare?
She looked up, seeing the officer ahead, offering a polite smile intending on glancing away but then... oh god. Her steps slowed to a halt, eyes locked on his features as recognition flooded her eyes and drew the color from her features. Jett... it was him.
-- Edited by RAYNA BLACK on Saturday 13th of August 2011 08:56:24 PM
He stood in awe, staring out at the woman. She definitely looked older, but there was no way he'd know what she'd look like now, 13 years since her disappearance. The look in her eyes though, was the same, the contours of her face and jaw, were the same. After a moment of staring at her, he would raise his hand, as if to wave, but at the last moment, he would simply deliver a sharp blow to the side of his head.
"Stop that! Memories and emotions are your game, since when were you bringing mirages into things."
One more blow came to his head.
"Stop it!"
However, the blows to his head didn't cause the image of his sister to flicker in the least, and so as his hand was inches away from a third strike, he'd stop, and lower his hand to his side. He would moved towards her, walking slowly at first, as he sized her up. 13 years, she hadn't grown much taller, but that was usual for a girl. Of course, she was still taller than him. Damn it! Once he was only a few steps away, he would suddenly leap out, and dive into her, face first into her breasts, just like old times. And yes, they were still just as pillowy and soft. It felt like home all over again.
Of course, a police officer head first into a woman's breast was not a welcome sight to the public, so after a few moments of allowing himself serenity, he pulled himself away from her, and stared into her eyes.
She knew he wasn't a mirage or a trick of memory. Why? because never once would she ever picture him in a police uniform. She could only stare at him as he struck himself in the head, one and then a second time, only then starting to move, hand lifting as if to halt him fro hurting himself again.
Then he was moving towards her, rushing to meet her, burying himself against her chest as her arms wrapped tightly around him. "Jett..." his name was a whisper, trembling with hints of all the tears she would never once let him see. Her arms tightened around him as he began to pull away, hodling him for a breath more before letting them fall to her sides.
"Yes, its me." The slightest hint of English accent now laced her words, having smoothed away the southern twang that had once accompanied her younger voice. Her hand lifted, fingers brushing back a lock of his hair from his brow, a once familiar gesture she'd long since forgotten coming so easily back to her now that he stood before her.
What to say? How to explain? She wasn't prepared for this and the one thing that Aleister always insisted on was being prepared.
"How are you?" She managed to keep her voice calm, none of the turmoil she felt inside reflected in her words.
He never knew what to imagine her as, though in this moment, looking her over, how she looked was what he had always imagined mom looked like. Of course, even when he was younger, he always imagined an older Rayna as what Mom looked like. He had nothing else to go on, and he didn't seem to care, because someone as loving and kind as Rayna, merely older, would have been the greatest mom in the world. The wonder of seeing her again consumed him as he stood there before her, looking her over, and at how she'd grown.
"I'm ... fine." He stated, rather blandly as he stared. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know where to begin. She had left when he was 15, and now he was 28. And despite the age he had gotten to, he was still the younger of the pair, and because of that, still had a manner of youth to him. The warring emotions of sorrow, anger, and joy fought in his head for control as he debated what to do next.
The child in him won out. "Where have you been!? Why did you leave!?" He waved his arms would wide, as his eyes seemed to water a bit in his expression of sorrow and frustration mixed.
"I ... I thought I had hurt you... that I did to you what I did to ... those ... bastards!"
-- Edited by JETT BLACK on Saturday 13th of August 2011 09:40:36 PM
She could see the sturggle in him, the maturity fighting with the child he'd been until the questios burst from him. She sighed softly, hand lifting to capture one of his hands, fingers squeezing his before tugging him close and settling at his side. They couldn't discuss this like this, in the middle of the street. There was too much risk of being noticed, of Aleister noticing. She curled her arm in his, urging him gently to start walking again.
"Jett love, I couldn't explain then and... I don't know how much I can explain now but I had to go. For both of us." Her hands tightened on his arm, shaking her head. "You never hurt me Jett, I didn't know you thought..... god. I'm so sorry. You never ever hurt me. You saved me. You always have to remember that. You saved me."
She was trying to figure out what to tell him. She couldn't tell him about Aleister or could she? Did she dare?
Despite the mood he was in, to find out right here and now, he did agree, especially since he was a police officer. She slipped her arm into the curve of his own, and grasping his hand. With him close to her, they walked down the streets, and deeper into the French Quarter.
Each step they took seemed random, till he realized he was walking her to his apartment. He didn't say anything about it, because he was too engrossed in what she told him, what she hadn't told him, and what she needed to tell him.
He was relieved he hadn't hurt her back then, but he was still confused. "What do you mean, for both of us? I was 15. I was lucky I watched every last step you took when you forged Dad's handwriting so we could continue to live in that house, unwatched and unseen while we could. After you left though, I couldn't pay for that house... I had to forge Dad's handwriting, and sell the house to the bank, and used what money I had to rent an apartment. " How ironic that he was a cop now, when he basically just admitted to getting away with identity fraud. Not to mention what he had to do to convince the superintendant that a 15 year old boy wasn't renting an apartment on his own...
She sighed softly at his questions, wishing there was some way to dissuade him but he deserved to know the truth, or at least as much of the truth as she could safely tell him. "I know it will be difficult to believe but there are those out there worse then Father." And Mathias, she couldn't quite still the shudder at the memory of her older brother. "It was... better.... for me to... trust me. I couldn't let them take you." If he thought that their father's side of the family was bad he hadn't met their mother's. Dear old Uncle Aleister would have loved to have gotten his hands on Jett, honing him into one of his vicious tools like St. John.
"I wish I could have told you, kept in touch but.. I couldn't." She hoped he would believe her.
"If that's the case, why are you here now? What's changed?" If she thought she was going to get away with this, by simply having been playing the protective mother role, that she underestimated him, for he still had the protective brother card to play. If she had managed to come back, and was planning on returning to this family that was supposedly worse than 'dear old dad', well then she better realize he wasn't going to be letting her go back.
She may not have been able to say anything then, but they would definitely be saying something now, or at least in the near future. He was still on duty, so he couldn't just step aside with her and chat away, but when his shift was up...
She sighed softly, knowing he wasn't going to be happy with any answers she gave him, truthful or otherwise. "Jett... I came here on business. I wasn't even sure that you were still living here in New Orleans." Alright, that much was a lie but she had become very proficient at lying in the years they'd been apart, it was soething else that Aleister insisted everyone learn after all.
"I've been here a couple of days. I just... I had to see the house and I started walking that's all." She squeezed his arm lightly. "But I'm interrupting your day. Are you on duty? I wouldn't want you to get into trouble." She didn't want this, she needed to plan what to say to him, to prepare. And she needed to start searching for the journal.
He didn't completly believe that statement, but he took it for now. As they walked, they got nearer and nearer to his apartment, till they were merely a block or two away. Again, he'd nod to her, and he'd stop in the streets to step in front of her.
"Do you have a place to stay yet?" Even if she did, he'd respond in the same way, regardless, because he wanted answers.
He'd slip his hand into his pocket, and pull out a small keychain, it had all of three keys on it, and he'd slap it into her palm.
"Even if you do, go to my apartment. I'm still on duty yes, but it won't be long till my shift ends. We will talk more about this." He said softly.
He didn't ask, he didn't recommend, he simply stated it, because despite whatever it was that kept her from talking, he knew that he was still her brother, she was still his sister, and they would talk. In his apartment, whatever bothered her about talking about it out on the streets she wouldn't need to worry about. For who in the family would know where he lived?
He leaned in to give her a tight hug, and head resting within her bosom once more. Damn her for being taller! Of course, he hadn't noticed it was because of five inch heels, yet. He could tell she was wearing heeled shoes, but he didn't specifically look for how large they were.
"Yes, I'm in the Prytania Park Hotel." She sighed when she accepted his keys, nodding slowly. "Alright Jett. I will wait for you there. And yes, we will talk." There was so much to talk about, all the things that had happened in the years they were apart, she just needed to figure out how to edit her side of the story.
She returned his hug, holding him tightly against her, eyes closing as she savored the sensation of holding him in her arms again. Her head tipped, brushing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Be safe love. We'll talk when you get off shift." Hoepfully by then she'd had an appropriate story to tell him.
