07-28-2014, 06:32 PM
The corridors were a flurry of activity. The Morrocans were in the process of evacuation, those who had not already secured paths to safety, and legionnaires worked tirelessly to reappropriate the space. She discovered that nearby mansions had been commandeered to house the flood of refugees, and heard further whispers of aid camps further afield. How much had her mother paid for? Or was this self-directed? Cynicism struck a deep discord, enough that it fluttered a frown against her brow as she began familiarising herself with the lay of building, Ekene shadowing silently behind. Perhaps it would stand Jacques Danjou in good stead with the CCD - or whichever power harnessed the greater advantage from the carnage. Control would be paramount in the coming weeks, and the value of the rhodium promised ruthlessness from all sides. It was a smart business move.
Instinct drew her to the edges of the compound, as close as she could get to glimpsing the tide of fleeing victims. Pale eyes watched impassively the little she could see, though every muscle was tight. Legionnaires hemmed her in gently when she tested the embassy's boundaries. These men bore no sign of injury, unlike so many of the men inside; she wasn't certain whether or not they knew who she was, though of course her Red Cross badge still hung from the loop on her belt, and a few of them eyed the boy at her side curiously. Ekene shrunk from the attention, curling protectively over his broken hand, desperate to hide his face.
In the end she supposed confinement suited her for now. Whatever the state of Ekene's wavering bravado, she did not think it would be kind to force him into the chaos that lay beyond. His world had shredded, still whirled and hurricaned madly about his head, and when it truly came to it Natalie would defend a single soul over a thousand. Probably the sight of armed and foreign soldiers did little to comfort him, but she wanted him to acclimatise; to see the humanity and truly understand that he was safe here. It wasn't the legionnaires he needed to fear.
But still, her skin itched with the desire to do something, less from the compassion her occupation might suggest, and more from sheer frustration. The legionnaires worked seamlessly, despite the sorts of grievous injuries that under ordinary circumstances would have seen them confined to hospital beds. She thought of the one Ekene had attacked, then, the accountability spreading hot in her chest. The reap of consequences rested heavy, even for peripheral actions. She'd asked after his welfare, had been assured he was as well as circumstances allowed, but she'd rather see for herself. It was only for Ekene's sake that she decided not to seek him out. Not yet. He'd eyed all the passing men with a wary and fearful look, and she didn't want to confront him with the one who, from his point of view, had genuine reason to do him harm. Not until she'd worked out how to untie his prejudices.
The tight hierarchy and effortless functionality of those around her left her feeling surplus. Without direction she carved out her own niche, offering her own brand of aid. A handshake here, a pat on the arm there. Power shimmered and rippled from her touch, bright as a beacon though she tried to reel it in. The flashes weren't entirely within her control, though the shining motions of the ribboned light was comfortingly familiar. Mostly the effects were subtle, but all too often she caught incidental glimpses into the bloody wounds beneath bandages that caught bile in the back of her throat.
As she explored the building, Jaques Danjou's name haunted the halls like a ghost. He passed like a legend from the breath of his men, and devotion touched too many tongues for her to dismiss the awe out of turn. Word of his arrival from Mecca had spread like fire, sparking a little extra stamina from men run into the ground. She watched curiously, sparing a glance for Ekene to garner his reaction, but he didn't look up. She never saw him. Natalie suspected Danjou would seek her out if he wished to speak to her, though he'd probably be unwise to leave her too long unattended. She'd only accept the impotence of her situation for so long, and there was only so much she could find to keep herself busy before she tested the conditions of her mothers deal. It grated to feel useless.
Eventually she gravitated back to the rooms housing the injured. Here, at least, she was out of the way of legionnaires busy with errands and duties. In the room she had picked, the wounded were propped up on the floor. Drips, bandages, the faint smell of antiseptic which curdled her stomach. Jay Carpenter was not among them. Some slept, dosed so high on pain relief that it'd knocked them clean out. If things turned worse - and in a county like Sierra Leone, the prospect was frighteningly real - she wondered how long the drugs were going to last.
Those soldiers that were awake didn't seem to mind her company, nor Ekene's by proxy. Natalie's bedside manner was hardly sunny, her humour wry, but she supposed the distraction was appreciated. She tried to coax Ekene into the conversations, silver-tongued in her efforts, but he was shy to approach. When some of the legionnaires joked about what he had done - and maybe a few of the tones were a tad sharp - he shrank away entirely.
By now exhaustion began to press at her temples; she was less recovered than she'd thought. The morphine had washed from Ekene's system and pain pinched his brow; his mood had sunk further into sullenness. Yesterday the medic had told her to rest, advice she had disregarded with her early rise. Not something she regretted, but the need reasserted itself now, and Ekene's wellbeing softened the excuse from being pure weakness.
A legionnaire she recognised stopped her on the return journey through corridors she was beginning to feel better acquainted with, gold gleaming in his grin and breath caught in his lungs like he'd been hurrying. Though she'd gotten the names of the legionnaires who had pulled her out of Freetown from the soldier who'd brought her breakfast, she didn't know which name to put with which face. Ekene apparently recognised him also; his colour blanched and he wilted into Natalie's shadow, staring up with hollowed eyes. But the man barely looked down.
"Milk,"
he said. There was triumph to the way he said it, and she imagined it had not been easy to source, but there was something else too. A spark in his eye that spoke of conspiracy. "For the kitten, ma'am."
Natalie assessed the roguishness of his grin straight-faced. Most judged girlishness from her appearance; angelic hair, pale eyes, porcelain skin, but five minutes in her company disabused the notion. Her scrutiny now had a wry edge. Yeah. Right. "Too small a job for a big important legionnaire, huh?"
She teased dryly as though unimpressed, but accepted the bait regardless, palm upturned with a smirk.
The legionnaire shrugged, grinning. After he'd left, imparting directions as he rushed off, Natalie turned to Ekene. "I'll be five minutes? You remember the way back?"
His eyes widened but he refused to answer, instead pressing his head against her arm. His weight was wearying, but she echoed the tiredness. One hand lightly cupped the back of his head, and for once he accepted the affection. "Come on then."
At the doorway Ekene's muscles bunched tight, his teeth jammed so hard his jaw froze solid. Unwilling to test his fear, she told him to wait. The room was not so dissimilar to the one she'd left earlier; the same scarcity of furniture and makeshift arrangement, the same sterile stench she associated with the hell of hospital. Some of its occupants were sleeping, others awake; Jay Carpenter was of the former. And he wasn't wearing much. A box beside him appeared to be lined with what remained of his shirt, though the kitten itself had abandoned the offer and slept curled tight on his chest, nose tucked right behind tail. Completely innocent. Red scratches scored the man's skin, and his good leg was bloodied up the shin in thin black crusts.
As before, Natalie was hardly shy of looking; an amused smirk touched her lips where another woman might blush, but practicality drew her attention to the bandaged leg. Not that she could tell much at all, other than by the swell and fall of the tiny kitten that the man beneath was alive and breathing. Which she'd been told anyway. Her gaze crept back up. He looked so incredibly vulnerable, and for a moment she was sorely tempted to use her gift to ascertain what she could not check with eyes alone, but she'd have to touch him to do it. A foolish idea probably.
She left the small bottle with one of the conscious soldiers.
Instinct drew her to the edges of the compound, as close as she could get to glimpsing the tide of fleeing victims. Pale eyes watched impassively the little she could see, though every muscle was tight. Legionnaires hemmed her in gently when she tested the embassy's boundaries. These men bore no sign of injury, unlike so many of the men inside; she wasn't certain whether or not they knew who she was, though of course her Red Cross badge still hung from the loop on her belt, and a few of them eyed the boy at her side curiously. Ekene shrunk from the attention, curling protectively over his broken hand, desperate to hide his face.
In the end she supposed confinement suited her for now. Whatever the state of Ekene's wavering bravado, she did not think it would be kind to force him into the chaos that lay beyond. His world had shredded, still whirled and hurricaned madly about his head, and when it truly came to it Natalie would defend a single soul over a thousand. Probably the sight of armed and foreign soldiers did little to comfort him, but she wanted him to acclimatise; to see the humanity and truly understand that he was safe here. It wasn't the legionnaires he needed to fear.
But still, her skin itched with the desire to do something, less from the compassion her occupation might suggest, and more from sheer frustration. The legionnaires worked seamlessly, despite the sorts of grievous injuries that under ordinary circumstances would have seen them confined to hospital beds. She thought of the one Ekene had attacked, then, the accountability spreading hot in her chest. The reap of consequences rested heavy, even for peripheral actions. She'd asked after his welfare, had been assured he was as well as circumstances allowed, but she'd rather see for herself. It was only for Ekene's sake that she decided not to seek him out. Not yet. He'd eyed all the passing men with a wary and fearful look, and she didn't want to confront him with the one who, from his point of view, had genuine reason to do him harm. Not until she'd worked out how to untie his prejudices.
The tight hierarchy and effortless functionality of those around her left her feeling surplus. Without direction she carved out her own niche, offering her own brand of aid. A handshake here, a pat on the arm there. Power shimmered and rippled from her touch, bright as a beacon though she tried to reel it in. The flashes weren't entirely within her control, though the shining motions of the ribboned light was comfortingly familiar. Mostly the effects were subtle, but all too often she caught incidental glimpses into the bloody wounds beneath bandages that caught bile in the back of her throat.
As she explored the building, Jaques Danjou's name haunted the halls like a ghost. He passed like a legend from the breath of his men, and devotion touched too many tongues for her to dismiss the awe out of turn. Word of his arrival from Mecca had spread like fire, sparking a little extra stamina from men run into the ground. She watched curiously, sparing a glance for Ekene to garner his reaction, but he didn't look up. She never saw him. Natalie suspected Danjou would seek her out if he wished to speak to her, though he'd probably be unwise to leave her too long unattended. She'd only accept the impotence of her situation for so long, and there was only so much she could find to keep herself busy before she tested the conditions of her mothers deal. It grated to feel useless.
Eventually she gravitated back to the rooms housing the injured. Here, at least, she was out of the way of legionnaires busy with errands and duties. In the room she had picked, the wounded were propped up on the floor. Drips, bandages, the faint smell of antiseptic which curdled her stomach. Jay Carpenter was not among them. Some slept, dosed so high on pain relief that it'd knocked them clean out. If things turned worse - and in a county like Sierra Leone, the prospect was frighteningly real - she wondered how long the drugs were going to last.
Those soldiers that were awake didn't seem to mind her company, nor Ekene's by proxy. Natalie's bedside manner was hardly sunny, her humour wry, but she supposed the distraction was appreciated. She tried to coax Ekene into the conversations, silver-tongued in her efforts, but he was shy to approach. When some of the legionnaires joked about what he had done - and maybe a few of the tones were a tad sharp - he shrank away entirely.
By now exhaustion began to press at her temples; she was less recovered than she'd thought. The morphine had washed from Ekene's system and pain pinched his brow; his mood had sunk further into sullenness. Yesterday the medic had told her to rest, advice she had disregarded with her early rise. Not something she regretted, but the need reasserted itself now, and Ekene's wellbeing softened the excuse from being pure weakness.
A legionnaire she recognised stopped her on the return journey through corridors she was beginning to feel better acquainted with, gold gleaming in his grin and breath caught in his lungs like he'd been hurrying. Though she'd gotten the names of the legionnaires who had pulled her out of Freetown from the soldier who'd brought her breakfast, she didn't know which name to put with which face. Ekene apparently recognised him also; his colour blanched and he wilted into Natalie's shadow, staring up with hollowed eyes. But the man barely looked down.
"Milk,"
he said. There was triumph to the way he said it, and she imagined it had not been easy to source, but there was something else too. A spark in his eye that spoke of conspiracy. "For the kitten, ma'am."
Natalie assessed the roguishness of his grin straight-faced. Most judged girlishness from her appearance; angelic hair, pale eyes, porcelain skin, but five minutes in her company disabused the notion. Her scrutiny now had a wry edge. Yeah. Right. "Too small a job for a big important legionnaire, huh?"
She teased dryly as though unimpressed, but accepted the bait regardless, palm upturned with a smirk.
The legionnaire shrugged, grinning. After he'd left, imparting directions as he rushed off, Natalie turned to Ekene. "I'll be five minutes? You remember the way back?"
His eyes widened but he refused to answer, instead pressing his head against her arm. His weight was wearying, but she echoed the tiredness. One hand lightly cupped the back of his head, and for once he accepted the affection. "Come on then."
At the doorway Ekene's muscles bunched tight, his teeth jammed so hard his jaw froze solid. Unwilling to test his fear, she told him to wait. The room was not so dissimilar to the one she'd left earlier; the same scarcity of furniture and makeshift arrangement, the same sterile stench she associated with the hell of hospital. Some of its occupants were sleeping, others awake; Jay Carpenter was of the former. And he wasn't wearing much. A box beside him appeared to be lined with what remained of his shirt, though the kitten itself had abandoned the offer and slept curled tight on his chest, nose tucked right behind tail. Completely innocent. Red scratches scored the man's skin, and his good leg was bloodied up the shin in thin black crusts.
As before, Natalie was hardly shy of looking; an amused smirk touched her lips where another woman might blush, but practicality drew her attention to the bandaged leg. Not that she could tell much at all, other than by the swell and fall of the tiny kitten that the man beneath was alive and breathing. Which she'd been told anyway. Her gaze crept back up. He looked so incredibly vulnerable, and for a moment she was sorely tempted to use her gift to ascertain what she could not check with eyes alone, but she'd have to touch him to do it. A foolish idea probably.
She left the small bottle with one of the conscious soldiers.