09.13.3013: Hiding Out
Summary: Nitrim and Rook are avoiding the press in his hotel, and get paid another visit by Xenona. Proposals are made for teaching and info sharing.
Date: 07 September 2013
Related: TNP Rave
Ithaca Nitrim Xenona 

Nitrim's Hotel Room on the Ring
See Log
13 September 3013

With the paparazzi swarming outside, Nitrim and Ithaca have been hiding in the hotel room, the same one where Nitrim last night claimed the 411 room, the fourth floor, of the massive hotel was where he could be found. Making the evil vultures wait it out, Nitrim has cleaned, showered, dressed in a pair of black pants and a baggy, red tunic while enjoying the day. A horror movie plays on the wall screen (Bikini clad woman being torn apart by undead, YESS!) and room service has been brought up in the form of fine pizza and finer beer. It's like Rook's apartment, the year 3015 version.

Sitting on the sofa with a cigarette dangling from his lip, Nitrim knows well Helena, Cyrielle, and Xenona are on the security log for the next few days, but doesn't expect an arrival anymore. "So hey, Rook? You went to hunt for sharks, right?" He looks over his shoulder to her, trying to find her. "If this ever happens we need those shark bite suits."

"Don't think suits will help against zombie sharks," Rook wisely points out. She's in drawstring workout pants in heather grey, and a tawny-colored off wide-necked knit sweater that slouches down off one shoulder. She comes out of the bedroom where she'd been peeking at the crazy press people out the tiny bathroom privacy window. She slumps beside Nitrim on the couch, sets her bare feet up on the coffee table, and reaches over to grab slice of pizza that tastes nothing like the cardboard discs of processed cheese stuff she has in her freezer.

No one is expected yet through the fog of unknown expanses comes a feathering touch to Ithaca at first, spreading further once she has been identified. The presence - familiar. Xenona presses closer mentally and lets herself be known, curious and with a request. You are hiding. Do you mind if I hide with you? She hesitates and then asks. The floor is all yours, I am not allowed without your permission. Please inform the desk that I can come up to your room.

"Why wouldn't it? I mean they work for sharks, and zombie sharks are sharks with shark teeth, shark scales, shark dreams of biting into shark food." Nitrim laughs, slipping an arm around Ithaca's shoulders to rest a hand on her bared arm. "But if the armor works against shark teeth, it'll work against human teeth, and we will be invincib—" Nitrim stops and looks to Rook, eyebrow quirked as if to ask if she's felt that, too. He plucks the cigarette from his lip and reaches for the comm button on the end table, pressing a voice message down to the front desk. "This is 411. I'm expecting a visitor. When she arrives send her up." There's a soft beep as the message sends.

They've been notified He sends out to Xenona, his eyes glossing over into white. Door is unlocked. Come on in, we have pizza and zombie movies.

"They stop sharks because it hurts them to bite the chain mesh. Zombie sharks don't care about pain. Would keep biting through," Rook explains. Well duh, that's just logical. She nods to Nitrim when the featherlight touch of Xenona's mind reaches her and she scarfs down her pizza slice as if afraid guests might eat her share.

They are left on their own, the touch gone from both minds. It takes a few minutes before there is a knock at the door. A cursory thing before she follows instructions and opens the door, stepping into view. No longer in her dress for the rave, she has adopted a velvet and plush looking coat and suit that is all in one. The wide burguny pant legs flow as she turns to close the door and steps back. Blue eyes turn to regard them from over her shoulder briefly before she begins to close the distance to the two, eyes sweeping over the junk food and attire they have taken on. "Good day," she intones to them both, her head tilting before she hazards to close the distance entirely.

"That's…information that I probably should know before testing that theory." Nitrim blinks blankly at the wall as the knock sounds out. Hooray, thanks to Rook's knowledge, Nitrim will avoid laughing while expecting zombie sharks to leave him alone. As the door opens, he looks up and salutes Xenona with a beer tapped against a temple. Motioning to the food, he keeps his arm adangle over Rook's shoulders and beckons her over. "Quicksilver, come on in and get comfortable. How are you feeling?"

"Hi," Rook greets Xenona in her usual terse manner. Words are not wasted with this one. Her lips do twitch in her rendition of a smile though. She pulls her bare feet off the coffee table and sits on the couch indian style instead.

"It seems you have things well in hand and that you have out foxed the press for the moment. I assume it has something to do with what played in the lift," blunt, to the point but she does not linger. In fact she gracefully crosses towards them with a sort of confidence even in the midst of uncertainty. She looks about and in a final decision, lowers herself to the chair to allow them the room together on the couch. His beer is considered and Rook's pizza but she doesn't ask for either. "How long do you plan to stay here?"

"This isn't my first run around with the press, Six know it." Nitrim rolls his eyes, shaking his head bitterly as he tips the beer bottle to his lips. Watching Xenona choose her perch, his brows lift as he swallows and considers her question. "I don't know. Rook and I are going to have to sneak out but we thought maybe a day or two to make them sweat and leave behind stooges to watch the door. By then it'll be easy and hey, room service while we wait." Nitrim laughs, looking over to Rook. "Thoughts?"

"Fine with it, unless boss calls. Then I may have to go early," Rook replies. She grabs another slice of pizza and gestures at the box for Xenona. "Want some? He calls, they bring more. Awesome." She grins.

Smiling to herself, Xenona listens and considers in silence as she glances between the two. The pizza is considered, nose lifting and she flexes her gloved fingers as if she is uncertain how she can work around the covering. She extends her hand and leans forward, taking up a piece as delicately as one can with finger food. Blue eyes lift to look at them both and uses her other hand, cupping her palm as she positions it beneath the piece that is a little hard to move about. Sniffing at the food, she leans in and takes a bite, watching Rook for her cues before she has to fight the dripping cheese and not make a mess of her clothes.

"I wish I could just firebomb your boss." Nitrim says to the empty space between the three of them as he watches Xenona reach out to the pizza with her gloves. Face bunching up with concern, he looks to Rook and plants a kiss to her brow before he hops up from the sofa and heads back to the kitchenette. Fork. Plate. Knife. TRULY THE SIGNS OF A FINE HOTEL. With a clatter of cupboardry, he heads back to the sofas and offers them to Xenona, holding out the plate so that she can transfer the pizza with less trouble. "So you're looking to do a little hiding, too?" He asks Xenona as he sits back down, arm returning to its place over Rook's shoulders.

Rook grins. "I swear, no one thinks. Use your telekinesis to hold it," she points out. If she had a dime for how many times she had to remind Nitrim, as he struggled with something he had to juggle, that he has as many hands as he can imagine he does, she'd be able to afford room service herself.

"I can't do that. I always get it all over my face." Nitrim sidelongs.

Looking up at the offered plateware and untensils, the Cindravale has the nerve to look offended. "Is this now how you eat it? I can eat it like this…" Never had pizza before. Sheltered. Xenona lofts a brow at Nitrim's admittance and takes another bite, chewing her food before swallowing and comments, "What if I could get you both out of here and allow you some time without having to worry about the press. I of course usually travel with others of the White Tower, it would be easy to give you eccentric like cloaks and costumes to hide your faces and no one would be the wiser if you leave with me. I am certain I can offer you guestright on Phylon." Though the certainty in her voice at the last one is faltering.

Keeping the plate in hand, Nitrim transfers it to the corner table with a shrug. Far from offended, it was just a sidelong idea. The utensils clatter as he brings one let up to brace over his knee and snuggles back into the sofa. "That might work. Really, if Rook leaves alone they won't think any differently, it's me that's the concern, they're like bees, really." His words slow as he considers Xenona's suggestion, drumming his fingertips on Rook's bare shoulder. "I could do that, but what about Lady Kassandra? I'm not exactly well loved among your house." His smile is faint. "Did you hear about that, Rook? I told you about the bachelor party, didn't I?"

Keeping the plate in hand, Nitrim transfers it to the corner table with a shrug. Far from offended, it was just a sidelong idea. The utensils clatter as he brings one let up to brace over his knee and snuggles back into the sofa. "That might work. Really, if Rook leaves alone they won't think any differently, it's me that's the concern, they're like bees, really." His words slow as he considers Xenona's suggestion, drumming his fingertips on Rook's bare shoulder. "I could do that, but what about Lady Kassandra? I'm not exactly well loved among your house." His smile is faint. "Did you hear about that, Rook? I told you about the bachelor party, didn't I?"

"Stranglechick?" Rook asks, arching a brow at Nitrim asking if that's the one he's referring to. She smiles and chuckles, looking at Xenona as she jerks a thumb towards the Khourni. "Smart. Not wise. Pissed off your cousin." She seems curious about playing dressup though. "Would be good way out but," she looks around the hotel room, "why? Comfy here."

"My cousin is more hot headed than any of the men in our family, I do not know her well enough to truly comment more. I was raised..apart if you will. Let me say I do not fit the cookie cutter mold of a Cindravale." Another bite is taken and she is doing her best to save herself from unneeded stains. "Eventually you will want to breathe free air, or Shadow will and it gets small, even a full floor." She drags her lips across her glove to clean off some sauce. "It is an offer, if you do not wish to return to functioning society, I will not bother you about it. I came to talk to you…about learning."

"Yeah, stranglechick. That's where I got that little scar on my palm from; the glass on the floor." Nitrim comments to Rook as he reaches out for his beer once more. Pausing for a sip, he considers and deciding it's okay, he nods softly. "Let's give it a day, and if it's still a problem I'll take you up on the offer. I'd get hounded to the Waygate if I don't play this one right, and I'm not worried about your House. I was in the wrong with Kassandra, but…" He laughs softly and opens his cigarette case, trading the beer for it. "I don't fit the Khourni mold much either. Or do I? Maybe I'm just a lithe drake."

Rook looks at Xenona as if doubting her words about being a typical Cindravale. "What? Only have one closet?" she asks. Because that's how she knows the Valen, as being clothes horses. That's the second time she's heard the woman call Nitrim "Shadow". She looks at him questioningly. "Definitely Khourni, but other things too." She rises and smiles a little. "Going to take bubble bath. Back soon," she promises.

"Oh I am certain I have many closets waiting for me back at Phylon, but I have chosen to visit rarely and spent most of my time at the Tower. Be that as it may, I am not a knight, I do not ever plan on being one and I do not think I shall ever lift a blade unless there is dire need. I am named after Lord Sir Xenon Cindravale. Every generation there is a child of the main line named after him and I have slandered the chivalrous beliefs of my family by not fulfilling their hopes. I do not expect to stay in Phylon long, I expect to be married off for political reasons so that my House can be free of me." This is all said in a sort of blithe way before taking another bite.

Reaching out, Nitrim grinds a knuckle against Rook's hip as she rises to leave. Turning his head, he watches her walk off. He slips a cigarette between his lips and offers the case to Xenona, allowing her to take one if she is so inclined. "After the news, there's a slim chance of that happening to me, at least for a while. In twenty four hours I've gone from the marriage docket to the bottom of the list." He murmurs, his lip tightening into a low, flattened smile that he casts to the woman. "But I might become a knight. I was being trained by Sir Flint Grantham before the banns and changes to my duties. I might go back to that, but until then I've got so much other business."

Watching Rook take off, Xenona dutifully continues to feast on the finger food of peasants and not seem to care. The Cindravale lifts a brow, looking over at him and then tilting her head. The bite swallowed, she remains quiet as she considers him. "And that business would be eating here in a hotel and avoiding the scandal just outside your floor?" There is a light smirk, a fleeting curl of her lips before she sets the crust aside and rises from her chair, moving towards the sink to take care of her gloves. "What do you have to do that is so important, Shadow?"

A wry, lightly amused smile turns at the corner of Nitrim's lip as she levels her sarcasm his way. Clapping his cigarette case shut, his eyes snow over into white as he dips the cigarette to his palm and lights it. "I'm not doing business at the moment, but I've been busy, non-stop, for months. Convincing the outside world that I'm a careless nobody of a noble provides me a lot of breathing room. Damned paparazzi will be a setback." He replies as she steps off. His back to her, he leans against the rear of the sofa and brings one of his socked feet to the top of the coffee table. He doesn't answer, instead he asks. "How interested are you in these dreams? The things we see that others do not? There's been more than enough prophetic dreaming these days."

"The dreams," Xenona intones, letting her voice trail off in thought as the water can be heard running, gloves removed as she scrubs at her hands and lets the leather dry off to the side for the moment. "They are more than a passing interest and I have recorded and rerecorded them in my journal…but to say that I could decipher each despite my extended knowledge would be false and egotistical, which most of us Cindravale and nobles are already known for, so perhaps I should just leave it that." She studies the back of his head and turns, attempting to find something to dry her hands on.

"I thought the same thing." Nitrim replies, the back of his head giving no inflection, though a roiling trail of cigarette smoke matches the movement of his lips as he exhales. He pauses for another drag, his tattooed arm turning to the side to tap the ashes away into a tray beside him. "I don't have enough hubris to assume I'd know it all myself so I've reached out into the Awakened I trust to connect minds together and work these things out." His head turns, though he doesn't look to her, merely giving her his ear. "Even at the White Tower the politics are apparent. Egos get in the way. So I provide myself with enough room to move around sight unseen and do the investigations to try to stay one step ahead of the Hostile."

"So you take it upon yourself to not access normal channels to find out what you want. You are a digger, a gleaner, a shadow with purpose, Lord Nitrim Khournas. Loved by the press, loathed by his peers and in scandal at this very moment. I can see why you could not access proper channels." Amusement tinges her voice and in a moment she is drying her gloves off, flexing her fingers. "Despite the food being an odd semblance there of it was decent." Coming back into view, she stands near his side, looking down at him. "So tell me..why do you bring this up?"

Despite being a shadow, Nitrim is every bit the serpents he loves so much, has been pictured with, and tattoos on his skin. With a twist of his head, he looks up at Xenona and his brow twitches lightly. "You know why I'm bringing this up." Nitrim offers, going on a limb as he weighs her with his eyes. "The question is, are you willing to forego status, political lines, rules, propriety for the better good of all people? How many secrets are you willing to keep?"

Weighing him as well, those haunting blue eyes search his slowly and then she turns away, making a motion with her hand. "I will not forgo the ties to the White Tower that I have, they are strong and will remain because I intend to return and learn more." She falls to silence then, gloves back on her hands stretches as fingers flex, curling and uncurling. Slowly drawing towards him, she reaches out slowly and means to take the cigarette between his lips, but stops before touching him, drawing her hand back. "It has a stench that is displeasing," eyes flash. "I will consider what you propose as long as you promise do not smoke in my presence."

"That's where things get messy isn't it?" Nitrim replies, plucking the cigarette from his lips to blow the smoke away from her. "I have my house, you have your house. We've all got our friends and lovers and things we'd rather not see broken but the truth is that those things might be compromised. If the Hostile find out we're dreaming, we might be compromised. Somewhere, someone has to do this quiet and unseen, no names, in secret, really only an urban legend. It's the only way to make sure the greater good from the dreams is researched." Finishing the cigarette, he stubs it out and looks up to her with a quiet smirk. "I've killed off so many vices this year I don't know if I can promise that all of the time. Stim makes for better calm."

"There is risk in everything. Because I was not who my parents wished me to be, I have risked relations with my own family. There is much to be said about risks, but harder to make them. I do not mind risking, Shadow. I will not openly pull away from the Tower and if I have to back them in any way that would not harm this…gathering of minds, I will." Blue eyes seek his and she nods her head as he puts out his cigarette. "Vices make us weaker, Shadow. The less you have, the less you are at risk. It is an unneeded thing and I trust at some point you realize this, hopefully none too late." She waves her hand through the smoke stenched air and then her chin dips to him. "You have me if that is what concerns you, but I wish something in exchange."

"I'm not going to openly back away from Khournas." Nitrim counters, tips his head to her, making his point clear. "Openly I'm not going to be doing anything. I won't reveal my sources, won't trade names. won't go into details of what I know with outsiders, either, because while openly I'm sure many people would like the information, the importance is to make sure it's used correctly. Finding people behaving badly needs to be pre-empted and not blathered to the press, to organizations, and needs to be handled carefully as everyone's already on edge." Nitrim turns in his seat a little, looking up to her, curious. "What would you like in exchange? I love my little circle. I'd need to know for sure you're willing to never tell, and if you walk away you do so vowing to never share names or faces."

Silence answers him at first before Xenona nods in understanding. "I wish for you to teach me the beliefs you hold. Hermeticism if we are being particular. As all Valen, Sorcery is our focus but I have already begun to delve into Mysticism, the rest I will look to you for," she pauses, "If you agree." There is a long breath exhaled and she nods her head. "I would have no one to share these names or faces with, you must understand I am not a popular figure to many despite my ability to socialize well enough."

"I could teach you some," Nitrim nods softly, steepling his hands together to look up to her. "I'll let you know when the time comes. No chaperones. No sharing the names, though. You'd be endangering all of us if you did. We're not rebels, we're a network of eyes and ears. In return, I'll teach you my blend of black mathematics." His lips curl into a pleased smirk. "I thought you'd accept."

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