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Post by Ryan Moretti Ω on Nov 15, 2009 11:49:58 GMT -5
Ryan's gait was slow yet steady, something it hadn't been for quite a while. It had taken him a while to heal up from firefight he'd endured to rescue Curse Jordan, and even now, the wounds were barely scars. And yet, the wounds weren't only skin deep. His mind was still healing, trying to recover from everything he'd seen. If finding out that his two comrades, Derek and Caleb, had been wolves or something wasn't enough, there was always what had happened with his visions. The memory was still fresh in his mind.
The crack had resounded through the air as his head collided with the wall, and pain blossomed through his skull. But the adrenaline drove the pain away, and the only sensation he had felt was the warm, sickly feeling on blood streaming down the side of his face. And then, in the midst of everything, his vision was split; one layer was the present, full of danger, and the other was the future, a ghostly warning of what lied ahead.
What scared Ryan the most about the memory was the feeling of power, the omniscience he had. The future had been laid in the palm of his hand, and in its wake, he had been serene and calm, unflinching. He hadn't feared Death, because in a sense, part of him transcended it. His mind had connected with God, and the sensation had instilled a sense of deep, unyielding fear in Ryan.
He couldn't find any answers in that sense. After all, it wasn't like he could just pick up the phone and call God or anything. And it wasn't like the angel Raziel was just going to come if Ryan started shouting his name or anything, so in that sense, he was alone.
On the other hand, the over mystery had a quick solution. God wasn't available for questions, but Derek Devoux on the other had was. Ryan was still curious to find out that hell had been up with the Ranger, as well as his other comrade. First it was visions and angels, and then it was men that turned into wolves! What was next, banshees and leprechauns?
Ignoring most of the other patrons, Ryan strode into the Wolf's Den with a stoic stature, heading straight over to the bar. The bartender spotted him, and eyed him steady.
"I'll have a double of whiskey." As the bartender sauntered off, Ryan slid onto the barstool, wincing slightly as a pain in his thigh flared up. Still seemed some wounds had a bit a bit of healing to do, Ryan though to himself grimly a grin creeping over his lips. When the bartender returned with his drink, Ryan slid him cash for the drink, but waved him over. "I need to speak with Derek Devoux, if possible." And well, if not possible, Ryan would just find the Ranger later. But for the moment, he wanted to take the diplomatic approach, keep things clean.
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Post by Lt. Derek DeVoux on Nov 15, 2009 17:11:56 GMT -5
Paperwork. It was one of the few things about owning a club that Derek hated. Lately, it seemed more stifling than normal and he had to force himself to concentrate on the numbers before him. Finally, everything seemed to add up and he was just tossing his pen down when a knock sounded at his door.
"Hey Boss? There's some dude out here looking for you. You wannna talk to him or you want me to tell him your busy?" called out one of the bartenders.
Frowning, Derek got to his feet and moved around the desk. Heading for the door, he pulled on his suit coat and then opened it to find Joe on the otherside.
"Who is it? Anyone we know?"
Shaking his head, the bartender shrugged.
"Never seen him before, boss. He's a big guy... Walks with a limp. OTher than that..."
Nodding, Derek pulled his office door shut and moved down the hall. As they reached the outer bar, his eyes scanned the crowd and landed at the bar where a familiar face sat.
"I know who it is, Joe.. I"ll take care of it."
Nodding, the bartender moved off as the shifter sighed and moved to greet his one time comrade.
"Mr. Moretti.... What brings you to New Orleans?" he said by way of greeting as he sat on the barstool next to him.
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Post by Ryan Moretti Ω on Nov 16, 2009 13:10:12 GMT -5
The seconds trickled by slowly as Ryan sat there, his mind wandering. Questions plagued the corners of his attention, begging to be answered. For a moment, he wished he could summon Raziel, and demand fulfillment for his ailment. But that was impossible. Meeting Raziel in the first place had been impossible, and even all of the answers he'd gotten from the angel were impossibilities.
Ryan wished life could be normal again. He missed the day to day struggle, the blissful ignorance he'd lived him. He'd seen the light now, but the light had been blinding, scarring his innocence. The shadows were no longer mere shadows, and the wind now held a note of strange mystery. Everything had changed, and nothing was the same anymore.
Suddenly Ryan detected another presence, and glanced over to see his one time comrade, Derek Devoux, striding toward him. The Ranger greeted him warmly, and slid onto the barstool beside him.
It amazed Ryan to see how well Derek was, considering everything they'd endured to rescue Curse Jordan. He himself was barely healed, and here Derek was, striding around as though he'd never barely escaped with his life. It astounded Ryan, and added to the sense of skepticism he held at the Ranger. Just what was he?
Fingering his glass, Ryan downed the rest of the amber liquid greedily, enjoying the smoldering burn that spread through his chest. "To be honest Derek, I'm here for answers," Ryan offered up solemnly. "And I'm pretty sure you know what kind of answers I'm looking for, as well the questions they're too. So, you care to explain?"
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Post by Lt. Derek DeVoux on Nov 18, 2009 10:53:54 GMT -5
Well now... Wasn't that just a loaded question? Tamping back his impatience, Derek turned to the bartender and ordered a scotch on the rocks. When it was slid into place before him, he took his time in forming an answer.
"The answers are right in front of you if you think about it.... What you saw and experienced was real. Not some product of a pain induced dream. There are things in the world that most people don't know about... but I'm sure you realize that seeing as you seem to have a special "gift" too." he said shortly before standing up. "However,I'm afraid if you want a more indepth answer... Your going to have to follow me back to my office. This isnt' the time or place for this discussion."
Turning away, the tall, lean shifter started through the club in the direction he'd come from. He knew that if the man was intent on answers, he would be right on his heels. Casting Charlie a speaking look, Derek nodded towards his office and gave him a signal that meant he was not to be disturbed by anyone or anything unless the buzzer rang.
Reaching the inner chamber of his office, Derek went around the huge mahogany desk and then asked his companion to shut the door. Sitting down in the chair, the shifter placed his drink on the blotter and then crossed his feet on top of hte wood.
"What is it exactly that you want to know? You saw that evidence with your own eyes... What is so hard to believe? Tales of shapeshifters have been passed down through each generation. Every legend has a grain of truth... Just as prophets are. "
As his keen gaze gauged the other mans reactions, Derek could see the tired intelligence gleaming there and hid a smile. Moretti might not be real pleased with learning the world was bigger than he'd thought but he would accept it.
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Post by Ryan Moretti Ω on Nov 18, 2009 21:37:19 GMT -5
Ryan listened to the Ranger intently, and when he happened to mention his "special gift", his attention piqued. What did Derek know about what he could do? He hadn't told anyone about it; after all, Ryan barely believed what was happening to him himself.
Maybe Derek was merely making an assumption. Even though Ryan hadn't told anyone about his "ability", he had used it to pull off some seemingly impossible things in their mission to rescue Curse. He could see how Derek probably suspected something on his part. After all, it wasn't likely someone would order you to do something that avoiding you getting killed moments before the attempt on your life.
When he indicated that this conversation would better be served within the secrecy of his office, Ryan followed Derek into his sanctuary, closing the door behind them when Derek asked. The room was cozy, but Ryan's guard stayed sharp. His intuition was telling him that this might not be a conversation he would be pleased to discuss.
Derek went right off into it, telling him how there were "tales of shapeshifters" that went back several generations, almost like it was a well-documented phenomenon. Sure Ryan had heard about the legends, and sure, every legend had a grain of truth in it, but he'd never though that grain would be so...large.
Then Derek mentioned the magic word, the taboo. Prophet.
Hearing it spoken aloud sent a shiver through Ryan's spine, his hands unintentionally gripping the arms of his chair to the point that his knuckles shone white. "What do you know about prophets?" The strain was more than evident in his tone, laced with a heavy dose of confusion and fear. "Shapeshifters I don't have a problem understanding or accepting. Your life, your deal. But I just have no fucking idea with the hell is up with me."
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Post by Lt. Derek DeVoux on Nov 24, 2009 11:10:56 GMT -5
Gazing at the man solemnly for a long moment, Derek tried to get a feel for the other man. While on the mission, he'd only taken a brief examination of him before deciding he knew what he was doing and leaving it at that. After the mission, they'd both been to wounded to do any chit chatting and Derek had been to focused on getting Curse home to his heavily pregnant wife to do anything more than wish him the best and get the hell out of dodge. Now, he thought back to what he'd seen and witnessed before threading his fingers together and looking down at his desk. Shaking his head, he finally rubbed his jaw and looked directly at Ryan.
"You find shapeshifters easier to believe in than prophets? Man... what a fucked up world we live in."
Getting to his feet, the wolf went to a side bar in the corner and refilled his drink.
"Prophets... seers.... fortune tellers... There are legends of those who can see the future in almost every culture. People who know whats goign to happen before it happens and who can and do shape lives and destinies. It was as obvious to me as the sun in the sky that you were seeing things and reacting to them that day in Aruba. We'd never have gotten out of there alive if you hadnt been... Whatever name you want to call yourself by... its obvious that you weren't meant to die that day and neither were we or we would never have made it out."
Putting the crystal bottle back in place, Derek glanced at his companion again before leaning a hip on the counter.
"Thats a pretty unique gift you have but its not all that rare. The bible, for example, is full of people who knew the future and wrote of it. Its really nothing to be scared of."
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Post by Ryan Moretti Ω on Nov 28, 2009 19:17:49 GMT -5
"Unique 'gift'?" Ryan muttered incredulously. "This thing is more like a curse than a gift!" His frustration flared momentarily, and he stomped his foot, biting back the urge to groan in pain as the nerves in his thigh screamed in agony. Okay, note to self, no temper tantrums for a while.
Back on point however, the momentary pain brought Ryan back to reality, and to the realization of his circumstances. How could Derek consider this thing a "gift"? He'd had to watch his brother, his own flesh and blood, die right in the middle of a battlefield. And then, if Raziel's word was true, saw another angel take his brother as a host.
And then there were Raziel's words, what he'd told him. That the world was ending, and Ryan himself was some kind of tool who'd have a hand in stopping it. That his so-called "visions" would be the key to preventing the Apocalypse from taking hold. What was he supposed to do with that information. One man couldn't save the world, and even if per se one man could, Ryan doubted he'd be the one able to do it.
Sighing, Ryan slid down in his chair. "Listen, I'm sorry to loose it on you like that..." he apologized. "I...I just don't know what to do, to think. This thing just kind of sprung itself on me a few months ago, and it hasn't exactly been pretty. And then I have an angel telling me I'm supposed to 'stop the Apocalypse', and, well, as you can imagine it hasn't been easy to just take all this in. So if I'm not surprised to hear about shapeshifters, that's why." He chuckled to himself lightly. "Man...my life is so screwed."
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Post by Lt. Derek DeVoux on Dec 3, 2009 16:10:07 GMT -5
Derek could only imagine what the poor fool was going through. He'd been lucky enough to be born of a family of shifters so he'd always known there was a chance he could inherit the gift. Ryan, however, evidently was not.
"I'm sorry that you've been blindsided by this. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I don't have any sage advice for you on how to deal with it. These are strange times and we've got monsters and saviors alike coming out of the wood work." the wolf finally replied as he leaned back in his chair. "New Orleans seems to have become a focal point for the damned Apocolypse and I've had my own hands full dealing with power maddened creatures. Demons are making deals with mortals and immortals alike and its hard to tell your friend from your enemy. Hell, for that matter, from what I hear.... Even heaven has crossed over with the angels dealing underhanded as much as the demons."
Rubbing his jaw, the dark haired shifter sighed.
"The best person I can tell you to speak with would be Alexis Blair. She and another friend of mine own the new club called WICKED across town. From what I understand, she had connections with people who might be able to help you understand your gift.... and it is that... a gift. You might not think so at the moment but its already saved your life once... I"m sure it will do so again."
Meeting the other mans gaze levelly, he watched him for a moment before continuing.
"Life is funny sometimes....I guess its like a chest game... Its always better to take your time and contemplate your moves while you have the chance or your queen could be at risk. In this case.. It would be your life. My advice would be to learn the strengths of your gift and allow them to work for you instead of against you. The more you fight it... the worse it will seem."
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Post by Ryan Moretti Ω on Jan 14, 2010 15:11:00 GMT -5
Ryan listened to the wolf intently, taking in the wisdom of his words. He could imagine how much Derek had been dealing with himself, knowing how he'd probably been in this world for a while longer than Ryan. Sure, he was probably used to all this stuff in some ways, but considering how the world was supposed to be ending now, he was probably dealing with his own world of trouble.
Maybe this woman Derek was talking about really could help him. If the wolf was truly right, then sure, he'd go see this Lexi Blair, and find out what answers she had for him. After all, he didn't exactly have anything to lose, right?
Sighing heavily, Ryan ran his caused hands through is hair stressfully, feeling the beginnings of a migraine starting to infringe on his mind. "How did you deal with it all?" he asked Derek. He knew it was more of a personal question, but maybe the Ranger's wisdom could help him. "I mean...I was kind of just tossed into this all, but I doubt it would easy to handle any way you come into it. So how did you?"
Maybe Derek had discovered this world like Ryan. Or maybe he had been born into it. Overall, it didn't matter. This world had so many surprises in it, that he knew it wasn't something that was easy to accept, period.
A twinge of pain shot through Ryan's skull, causing him to hiss in pain lowly. Damned headache. He downed the rest of his whiskey, hoping it would make him feel better.
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Post by Lt. Derek DeVoux on Jan 19, 2010 12:06:37 GMT -5
Thinking about the other mans question, Derek frowned and stepled his fingers together. A thoughtful glint came into his eyes as he formulated a reply.
"How do I deal with it? Well, since there isn't much of a choice, I just grit my teeth and get to it. Its not exactly something any of us choose so we all do the best we can with what we are given. Its just the way it works."
Eying him over the desk, he took in the twitch of pain that went across his face.
"In my case, I always knew there was a chance of inheriting the gene but I also knew there was a chance I wouldn't live through it. Its funny how that desire to live makes you face almost anything and give it your all. I was one of the lucky few that survived the change at puberty. A vast majority don't... Yet another reason you don't see many of us around. With those kind of odds stacked against you... It tends to make an individual work even harder to even them."
Getting to his feet, Derek picked up a card and handed it across the desk.
"Here is the address to WICKED. You can generally find Lexi there most nights and if not... See Erik. He can put you in touch with her."
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Post by Ryan Moretti Ω on Jan 24, 2010 13:24:58 GMT -5
Honestly, Ryan felt for Derek. He could have imagined how difficult that life had been for him...growing up with the fear that you might not even live past your teens. It sounded like a horrible way to way to live your childhood, but like the Ranger had said, it definitely seemed like a god way to impress that drive to survive. Being a soldier, Ryan himself could sympathize to a point. War had the same affect on people, hardening their drive to survive. It was all just one big contest, specifically of who was willing to do what he had to do to survive.
Reaching forward, Ryan accepted the card graciously. "Thanks, Derek, for all your help." And truly, he was thankful. Hopefully this woman would be able to give Ryan some answers, and help him understand this thing. "I appreciate it." He rose to say goodbye to the man.
That's when it hit him.
A familiar sense of vertigo, of nausea, shot through him. It was like his small migraine had exploded, to point where it felt like his skull was about to burst open. Instinctively, Ryan grabbed the desk for support, his form swaying unstably.
No...this couldn't be happening. He should've recognized it was coming when the beginnings of the migraine had first started, but like always, part of him wanted to ignorant, and pretend like it wasn't happening.
But it was happening. And nothing he could do was going to stop it.
With a sickening lurch, the vision claimed him, and Ryan toppled over to the floor, clutching his head.
This vision wasn't as organized. It wasn't coherent like the some of the others, or nearly as organized. It was more a series of images, of scenes, being broadcast into his mind in random order, with no sense of time or place.
A blond girl, barely legal, was pregnant, holding an old, tattered photograph reminiscently.
Two people, a man and a woman, talking to each other, in some kind of blues club still under construction. The women seemed like an older version of the pregnant girl.
A room, dark and dank, where a young girl was being held captive.
A man with black eyes, grinning.
Derek himself, seemingly talking with the blond woman, here at this very bar.
And then, most surprisingly, his brother, several years younger, holding the young blond girl in a loving embrace.
With a loud gasp, Ryan's eyes shot open, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His body was still shaking from the vision, reeling from everything he had seen. What was it supposed to mean?
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