Location: Skovgaard Residence in Upper Queens New York, year 2100
Leif Skovgaard regarded his fellow Glemete with practiced neutrality. The dissention that had occurred some hours ago had degenerated into something truly ugly, and in the Greenland native's opinion, something beneath all of them. On the one side, the Holmström scion, the direct descendant prince Orik himself called for the complete restoration of the old ways, ways that were diluted, forgotten, or just outright destroyed. A futilely impossible task for any but the Glemete, for the forgotten ones whom suffered with the knowledge of the destruction of all they knew. This hurt echoed throughout the generations and Leif was long used to the bitter aftertaste.
And like those whom stood before him now, Leif was sick of it. On the other side, the direct descendant of the half Norn whom had mediated between the prince and the gods, Edda vehemently opposed Erik's ambition. She thought that by forsaking the out-dated belief that the dead had any rights, it would be the same as forsaking all that the Glemete had fought and died for. In this view the reclusive Norwegian had made her choice, and in standing by their prince the rest of the Glemete had made theirs.
Yet in this there lie a great problem, which Halfdan the youngest amongst them was more than willing to point out. "We cannot do this without the power of the Norns." Night dark eyes swung the brunette's way with a half amused scowl. "You're right of course," the descendant of Swedish royalty said derisively, "so we won't." Not gulled in the least, the Finnish steel mogul lightly swirled his glass of champagne. "And how do you suppose that, if Edda will not go for this, then none of her ilk will."
Leif, Inghart, and Agathe silently agreed with him. Rosalind however would not stand for anyone to question the blonde's plans, "Your insolence- Erik raised a silencing hand, the family ring flashing conspicuously before them all. A not so subtle reminder of whom held power in this group, "his question is valid Rosalind." He reached down at his feet where his briefcase was, and unceremoniously threw it at the tapered face half grown youth. "Contrary to popular belief the Norns do not see all, their' descendants see even less."
Location: House of Pain Diner; Las Vegas, Nevada
She navigated the midnight diner with a disturbing ease, delicate hips swaying away from wandering hands and a factious grin easily sending empty apologies to the drunkard's grasp that she avoided. "Damn it Twitch, get dat fine ass of yer's over ere'." 'Twitch' didn't even glance up as she placed the latest order in front of the trucker she was serving. After four months of surviving on the streets of Las Vegas, and then managing to hold a job for two months here, Twitch had just barely mastered her habitual tick from which her nickname derived.
"Anyth'n else Mac? An so help meh, if you dare say you, I'm gonna use yer intestines to string ya sorry ass up a tree by yer balls." The diner's number one regular mock pouted, "Aw, come on beautiful why ya got to be so cruel?" The waitress purposefully rolled her eyes. Then turning, she once again ignored all pleads for her attention as she strode back to the bar and her boss. For an asshole bloated on his own ego, Doug was alright, or at least as far as Twitch was concerned. The proprietor of the little establishment she was currently employed didn't ask questions, and didn't try to screw her over. This is more than she could say for most of the people that passed through her life.
Setting her serving plate down in front of her boss, Twitch gripped the edge of the bar as she leaned forward. There wasn't any doubt whatsoever in her mind that whatever the fat man was about to say, Twitch definitely didn't want anyone else to hear. That is, if the grim expression on the portly man's face was anything to go by. "Couple suits rolled by today, day be look'n for a stray," intently watching the wheat haired nymph react, Doug scratched his goatee.
'Still needs work,' he thought wryly as the almost ridiculously tall girl had to visibly fight the tremble that she was named for. Twitch, despite her very discreet and often aloof nature wasn't very hard to figure out for those who knew what they were looking at. Doug knew damn well what he was looking at. Twitch was a fine boned thing; almost painfully so, making her cheek bones stand out in sharp relief under almost gray pallid skin. And all the color contacts in the world couldn't hide the absurd rate in which her eyes would dilate.
Twitch's twitching was another obvious give away. Even now his youngest waitress was hyper aware of her surroundings. He could see it in the way that her body would shift. Her eyes, while not quite relinquishing their hold on him, always managed to follow as she moved in minuscule increments. Somewhere along the line, this girl had been hurt and hurt badly. Good thing for her he always had a soft spot for strays. "Now parently' some nut from up north don scaped' the funny farm couple years back, now I want cha to watch ya self ye hear?"
"Yeah I hear ya," she paused, "thank ya for the concern Doug." The older man gave her small smile, letting her know without words that he understood what she was really trying to say. "Don't go be'n no ero' if ya find the girl Twitch, people like dat been stuck in a cage too long, and beat down too many times to be trifled with. Ya even think ye see er' ya run, ya don't look back, ya don't hide, just run." Twitch gulped visibly and nodded and ducked her head as she turned away. Yes, Douglas Delaney knew exactly what the hell he was looking at.
Location: Moby Dick on Broadway
Walter had no idea what his client wanted. Usually when his best costumer contacted him for his services, everything was discrete. No phone calls or couriers that could be traced to either of them, nor had they ever met face to face. But it seems, good things can never last for long. He fought the urge to take out the blue tooth on his ear, and leave. "It's nice to finally see you in person Mr. Walter." The strong arm for hire fought against his knee jerk reaction of violence. "I wish I could say the same Ma'm."
"Three rows down, I am the woman in the pink hood." Slyly scanning the crowd the clean cut mercenary immediately spotted the ghostly beauty seated very close to the front. Edda Norn wasn't as old as he expected, instead she seemed to him in her late twenties at best. And yet she looked so frail on the outside, but Walter could see the raw strength that was also there. "It's nice to finally meet you in person Ma'm. Now, why the fuck am I here." He could see a ghost of a smile flit across the woman's lips, "I have a project for you, eight figure contract. A simple yes or no now will suffice."