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    Naked form stood un-apologetically in front of the expanse of windows of his apartment in the old Mandarin Oriental, hand spread wide against the glass as he stared down into the abyss of the city. Perched on one of the top floors, the entire level was his, including a luxury lap pool and private elevator to the basement parking lot to avoid dealing with any other hotel patrons. It used to be considered the diplomatic accommodations of what was once a five star hotel in New York. The building had been bought by some corporate investors and returned to its former glory, now considered one of the most luxurious, the elf had deemed it adequate for housing his stay in the dreadful concrete prison.  

     

    Faint growl hummed in his chest as he turned from the glass vision of death.

     

    Four years he had been making the trek to New York, to be the face of NARWA and ensure that the company only continued to expand. Four years and he still hated coming, bristling at the amount of dead in this city. Glass, steel, concrete… these barbarians left so little room for nature that he couldn’t breathe when he was here. He also never made the trek in winter for fucks sake. Who the hell wanted to be in this frigid wasteland?

     

    Hand ran through the ebony silk, pulling through the strands that were still damp from the hot shower he had taken to chase out the chill. Toes curled on the over-fluffed rug as he glanced down to the gilded invitation laying open on the glass coffee table. It was the reason he was here, if not for that rectangular parchment, he would be nice and warm and surrounded by his estates in Megildur.

     

    It could be a trap. But it also could be a genuine recognition of his status in the world.  The elf not only knew of Bakkhos, but did big business with the syndicate. He recognized their position of power among those that now began to juxtapose themselves against each other to reach the summit in the new game playing out across the world.

     

    He too… was a player in the game.

     

    Bare feet padded back to the massive bathroom, the mirrors finally cleared of the fog that had bathed the room. Long fingers played along the shadow that carved his jawline. It was an odd thing. Elves of his world didn’t grow facial hair, even with his minute taint of human blood, there had never been so much as a fuzz on his chin. But in the last year, this world seemed to tug at the taint within him. At first he had been reviled, desperately trying to purge it. However it now was like so many other "costumes" he wore. This world was strange, saw the beautiful buttery smooth skin of male elves to be "effeminate" and evidence they lacked strength or sexual prowess, something he proved wrong time and time again in the bed he often shared.. but outside of it…. in business… It didn’t take long for him to recognize he was treated differently with the mark of Earthborn recognized "masculinity".  He might be seen as a traitor to the Outworlders who didn’t understand, but to be welcomed into the folds of the Earthborn only made his position stronger, his company larger, his finances greater…. all of which translated to more protection for his brethren who were washing up on his shores in droves since registration began.

     

    He would beat these Earthborn in their own games. He would reach a summit from which he could not fall and drag his kin there with him.

     

    The mirror reflected back a haunting vision of himself. It was becoming more familiar, but at times it still seemed a stranger stared back at him. Hair that once tucked over his bare hips, now clung only to his shoulders. Another "masculine" edit, one he had consciously made. Dark azure orbs flicked to the watch laying on the counter. He only had a couple hours before this masquerade.

     

    Time to get ready… and see what pieces moved on the chessboard.

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