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[sup][i]Definitely Not Los Angeles[/i][/sup][/CENTER]
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[COLOR=darkgray][indent]They came in the hour before noon, when the heat pressed the shadows small and the court was quiet.

Merit-Iset heard the sandals before she saw the men, a dozen pairs at least, striking the processional stones in the wrong rhythm, the rhythm of soldiers rather than supplicants. She was in the inner hall wrapping the morning offerings in linen when the sound reached her, and she set down the bundle with great care, the way one sets down something precious when the hands have begun to shake.

Through the entrance columns she could see them now. Royal officials, not soldiers, which was somehow worse. Soldiers could be reasoned with, bribed or cowed with the weight of religious authority. Officials carried the righteousness of a cause granted to them by a higher power, complete, final, backed by something larger than any one man's cruelty.

One of the young acolytes, Nefret, barely past her naming ceremony, appeared at the inner door with wide eyes and a question already forming on her lips. Merit-Iset crossed the hall in four strides and gripped the girl's thin shoulders.

[color=#40B4C4]"Get the others,"[/color] she said quietly. [color=#40B4C4]"The archive cylinders, not the great one, we won't be able to carry it. Tell them to bring nothing else. Nothing."[/color] She held the girl's gaze until she saw understanding replace the fear. [color=#40B4C4]"Go now. Quietly. Through the rear passage."[/color]

Nefret disappeared. Merit-Iset turned back toward the entrance and straightened her shawl and made herself breathe, made herself become the woman they would see first, calm, formal, a servant of ritual with nothing to hide, while behind her the temple quietly began to empty itself of everything that mattered.

She moved into the public chamber beyond with a confidence she did not feel, channeling all the elegance and splendor her time among her family had granted her, before she had felt the call to service in her lord's temple.

[color=#40B4C4]"Greetings, honored bearers of Pharaoh's will, what brings you to the halls of the Falcon of the Horizon?"[/color] She offered a smile, a dazzling one that highlighted the smooth texture of her teeth and the plumpness to her cheeks which marked her out as a daughter of nobility even years after she had been among those halls. For a moment she thought it might be enough, clearly some of the armed men arrayed before her did not relish the prospect of violence and desecration so much when confronted with its cost. The more wizened of them, their vizier, had no such issue.

[color=#8B7355]"There is no power but the Solar Disk, Priestess. We have come to ensure only the proper respect is being paid here."[/color] For all his sour expression of judgement, it was clear the man enjoyed his sudden flush of power over her, a woman who had enjoyed the benefit of her noble station and then the protection of Horus' priesthood.

[color=#40B4C4]"This is no temple of Amun, Vizier, the Pharaoh has granted you no power to attempt such here."[/color] She found the strength to muster a fierce quality to her voice. It would not be enough, she knew, as the men prepared to act, but she had no desire to make it easy for them.

[color=#8B7355]"Pharaoh's command has expanded, there is no longer any place for false gods in his Kingdom. The Morning and the Evening Star thus commands."[/color] She kept her eyes on him as he spoke, but could not help but notice those of the group who began to move around her.

[color=#40B4C4]"Surely you cannot mean to —"[/color] Her words were cut off, a flash of pain from the back of her head that she would never know the true cause of.[/indent][/COLOR]

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[color=#D4AF37][h1]T H E   P R E S E N T   D A Y[/h1][/color]
[sup][i]Almost Certainly Los Angeles[/i][/sup][/CENTER]
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[COLOR=darkgray][indent][color=#40B4C4]"Ah….fuck."[/color]

Nadia groaned as she bolted awake. The sudden pounding of a hangover combined with the sudden jolting of a new memory from a previous life was not a combination she found particularly pleasant. She rolled onto her side with a heavy 'flumph' of errant hair and feathers. The bed, a grand enough superking — a heirloom from her much grander previous apartment — was still nowhere near enough to contain the full length of her wings when she fully stretched out, her furthest feathers trailing to the ground as she otherwise arched into a stretch, cursing again the pounding of her forehead made all the worse by the sudden startle of her awakening.

Forcing herself up was a test of will almost too much for her, but eventually she was standing, her wings trailing behind her as she made her way to her shower. The shower room was another throwback to her previous more luxurious accommodation, but this set up was for more functional reasons. Given how difficult feather maintenance could be, she argued, successfully, that she needed both the larger shower and powerful blowdry features to maintain her heroic effectiveness, even if she had lost a fair few other privileges following the rather forceful move to Claremont.

The comforting warmth of the water blasted against her skin in a caress she would find even harder to extract herself from than her bed a few moments before, the feathers of her wings ruffling in reflection of her satisfaction. Nadia allowed her head to slump against the tiled wall. She was, admittedly, at a bit of a low point. Ever since she had been [i]strongly encouraged[/i] to participate in the Phoenix Program she'd chafed against the restrictions placed on her time and lifestyle. After she'd [i]let out[/i] those frustrations quite forcibly on a number of jobs for SDN Downtown, her position within the program had become rather less an encouragement and more of a legal necessity. She'd been forced to move to Claremont rather quickly and given the cost of moving to Downtown was still eating a hole in her wallet, the second move had rather done her in financially. That wasn't to say she didn't still have access to the best of the wild social events infamous across minor-celebrity life in LA, and that went some of the way to explain the headache.

As the near-industrial dryer powered away at her wings, momentarily making each of her feathers into a puffball of volume, her phone, ever nearby, pinged. It was a monotone beep, not one of the various cheery tunes she had set up for the notifications she wanted to spend time on. With another groan she reached for it, regarding the messages on the screen:

[quote]We have a new starter. Transfer in from …actually I have lost that paperwork, but Ikret, Egyptian demi-goddess, is joining Claremont A-Team. Please give her a warm welcome![/quote]

[i]Ugh.[/i]

Slack, her least favourite of her many messaging apps and the one she was forced to avoid muting. She had to admit one of the reasons for the night's previous wildness had been discontent with her first day at yet another team. With far less enthusiasm than she would normally have for such a thing, she began the process of getting ready. Even if she hardly felt her definition deserved it, that didn't make art any less worthwhile.

It wasn't long before she stood in front of her mirror, after the brief required struggle into her bodysuit, applying the last touches of kohl eyeliner and jade eyeshadow, matching the vibrant shade of some of the detailing on her costume. She paused for a quick turn and pose before said mirror, blowing herself a kiss with mahogany-coloured lipstick clad lips, then headed to her balcony. Her eye guards in place, which looked in tint far more akin to fashionable sunglasses than anything else, with a woosh of thrusting air, Ikret took to the sky once more. Nadia hardly rushed in her travel, for her journey was as much a performance as anything else. With artful grace in the air, various snaps of her would end up all over socials even before she landed at SDN Claremont. Even if she had to give them her time, that didn't mean she couldn't still bask in the attention of Joe Public while she did so.[/indent][/COLOR]

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[color=#D4AF37][h1]S D N   C L A R E M O N T[/h1][/color]
[sup][i]Friday · 13:01 · Break Room[/i][/sup][/CENTER]
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[COLOR=darkgray][indent]Arriving at just the right moment to flare her wings to capture the near midday sun behind her was a skill Nadia had practiced for some time, and was one she immediately employed as she arrived via balcony to SDN Claremont, rather startling a janitor managing to escape to a smokebreak. She fixed said janitor with a look that wasn't quite a full smile, but enough to be charming, as she swept inside, her wings tucking to her back to not entirely demolish her surroundings as she navigated her way through the building.

It didn't take her long to find the break room, albeit navigating her way between a collection of — in her opinion — far too cramped desks provided a brief obstacle challenge. A momentary competition for space between her wings, hips and a few desk ornaments resulted in a resounding victory for the former two, briefly before she swung through the doorway into the break room. Regarding the group from over the rim of her definitely-not-sunglasses, her greeting was simple.

[color=#40B4C4]"Sup."[/color] Punctuated suddenly by the 'pop' of the bubblegum she began to work on purely for dramatic purpose.[/indent][/COLOR]

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