05-14-2014, 06:35 PM
He didn't forcefully resist the deliberate movement of her arm, but he didn't seem in an awful hurry to let her go either. There was a dull consideration in his gaze, unlit by fury or lust, and a new sliver of concern touched against more obvious fears. Only Azubuike had known she'd driven to Netland hospital, and only her colleagues in Masiaka and the senior teachers at St James knew who she was. Such information was not difficult to unearth, of course, but you did have to look. Her muscles tensed. She'd hoped for peaceful resolution, but the prospect withered to dust now; ice froze hardness into her gaze, and she wrenched her arm back. She had no power with which to back up her defiance, but she dared him nonetheless. He seemed to make his decision; his grip tightened, and resolve darkened his face. But then his head cocked to the side, his brows drew low, and he ran.
Natalie displayed no hysteria at being rescued; in fact the smoothness of her expression probably indicated an utter lack of gratitude, though she was grateful. Her shoulders ached to drop, to allow a breath of relief, but her stance remained rigid as she took in the surrounding soldiers, settling on the one who addressed her. Not through fear - she recognised their uniforms enough to know who they were, though she'd never before crossed paths with Legion Premiere - but through suspicion. They were mercenaries. The first question to pierce her thoughts twisted darkly: how much did they pay you?
Little touched her expression, of course; little but the glint of calculation. Though she didn't value what she immediately presumed to be her mother's manipulation, and in fact it needled something fierce, she was practical enough to accept the sentiment when in the centre of a warzone. But duty dug deep claws, and caution tempered the relief of allies in the midst of hell. What exactly had been paid for? She wasn't going to argue, and even if she was, this was not the place. But there was an edge of consideration to her, weighing the measure of her control. She would not be leaving without finding Ekene, for a start.
"It seems you already know who I am, corporal."
Dryness underscored the words, but not hostility. The first flicker of emotion lifted a small smirk at the corner of her lips as she shook the man's hand. Politeness ingrained the motion, but self-reflective wryness provided the amusement. Given the situation. Her hands were rusted with blood.
"We should move."
Seconds after the words left the Legionnaire's lips, he fell. It all moved too quickly for Natalie's eyes to catch the detail; she was feeling increasingly sluggish, and the longer she stood immobile, focused doggedly on the face of the corporal, the more watery her balance felt. Had she hit her head? It was the screaming that finally anchored her; high and keening, as desperate as a wounded animal. Ekene was pinned under the weight of a Legionnaire, his injured hand crushed. One of the others had gathered the blood-soaked blade wrenched from the boy's grip.
"He's a child."
The words were murmured but her intention focused, shivering light through her skin. Her head panged retaliation, but the bloom of light suffused the warning of over-exertion. She moved, despite the sudden clench of the corporal's fingers as she withdrew from the handshake, trying to hold her back. "He's a child."
"Don't trust them, Natalie!"
Ekene shrieked, struggling manically in spite of the pain bulging his bloodshot eyes. He was wild, composed all of edges and malice.
Understanding took a second. The men with guns. She'd told him not to trust them, and apparently the words had soaked into his skin like a mantra. Faced with the crumbling of everything he knew, he clung on to whatever he could. Her brow furrowed, but she could hardly be angry. With anyone but herself, anyway. "I know."
It seemed fruitless to offer clarification now. Her knees hit the dirt beside him, palms splayed either side. A dangerous gleam of thread drifted close to the Legionnaire pinning Ekene to the ground, but she reigned it in. It rattled the edges of her control. "But you can trust me"
Confusion touched what she could see of his expression. Blood slicked the side of his face in the struggle, and tears had leaked from the corners of his eyes. But the effort went out of him, as deflated and dead as if his spirit had fled his body. Fear crawled in the space remaining, and she was half afraid he was going to start sobbing again.
"You can let him go."
She caught the Legionnaire's eyes; or, at least, she stared into the dark visor that covered them. "He's a student at my school. You can let him go."
She imagined the man glanced askance at his superior, but she deigned not to care so long as he did as asked. Released of the weight, Ekene whimpered and barely moved. Natalie noticed clearly for the first time how swollen his hand had become, how tightly laced the insistent agony creased his eyes and lined his young face. She remembered the insight she had gained at the hospital, but she did not have the room for sympathy. Not if they were going to get out of this alive.
"You can cry when we're safe, Ekene."
Her words were hard, but she swept a thumb under his eye, tilted his chin so that he had no choice but to look her. The paleness of her gaze was unsettling, the intensity of it, but her ferocity was softened by her protective nature. "Now get up."
She wasn't so sure she could even push herself to her own feet, but she found the reserves from somewhere. A somewhat wearied gaze turned to seek out what damage, exactly, Ekene had delivered; about the same time she recalled the same man's warning, and the chaos began to erupt around them. Natalie was no soldier; she flinched when the gunfire began to hail in their direction. Ekene bolted himself to her side, warm and slick with Legionnaire blood, but she extricated him, pushed him behind her instead. Unsavoury curses razored the edge of her tongue, but she didn't waste her breath on them. One of the Legionnaires was yelling at her, but she'd already moved forward to their fallen comrade. The attack had come swiftly, but they'd had time to pull him up.
Yet he was still in the dirt.
Her vision was swimming a little, wavering at the edges of its perfect clarity, and she stumbled more than knelt beside him. Her hand braced instinctively on his shoulder, catching her balance before she fell flat on her face. Tendrils rose like vapour from her body the moment her hand landed, unintentional, but it was a familiar sensation: more familiar than the violence that had arced from her in the hospital. She couldn't see much of his face, but the hard set of his jaw grimaced against the pain. Seconds later she understood why; both the pain, and why he hadn't stood.
There was a lot of blood. She was acutely aware of the heat of it on her skin, transferred when Ekene had clung to her. She could still feel him now, crouched down low behind her. The warmth of blood and tears soaked into the back of her shirt, where he buried his head. Men bled out from wounds like this. Such tendons were cut for torture, and she didn't want to know how Ekene had known how to be so precise.
"Some knight in shining armour, huh."
The morbidity of her humour twisted dry, and she glanced a brief smirk into the black, impersonal cover of his lenses before her attention glanced to the chaos, not that she could see much from the ground with the crowds so thick. Threads of light snapped and twisted, drawn by instinct and will. Sometimes that was enough. Sometimes it wasn't. Sweetness tingled her skin like electric, but her head still throbbed like something had knocked loose. "Probably a good idea to get up?"
Natalie displayed no hysteria at being rescued; in fact the smoothness of her expression probably indicated an utter lack of gratitude, though she was grateful. Her shoulders ached to drop, to allow a breath of relief, but her stance remained rigid as she took in the surrounding soldiers, settling on the one who addressed her. Not through fear - she recognised their uniforms enough to know who they were, though she'd never before crossed paths with Legion Premiere - but through suspicion. They were mercenaries. The first question to pierce her thoughts twisted darkly: how much did they pay you?
Little touched her expression, of course; little but the glint of calculation. Though she didn't value what she immediately presumed to be her mother's manipulation, and in fact it needled something fierce, she was practical enough to accept the sentiment when in the centre of a warzone. But duty dug deep claws, and caution tempered the relief of allies in the midst of hell. What exactly had been paid for? She wasn't going to argue, and even if she was, this was not the place. But there was an edge of consideration to her, weighing the measure of her control. She would not be leaving without finding Ekene, for a start.
"It seems you already know who I am, corporal."
Dryness underscored the words, but not hostility. The first flicker of emotion lifted a small smirk at the corner of her lips as she shook the man's hand. Politeness ingrained the motion, but self-reflective wryness provided the amusement. Given the situation. Her hands were rusted with blood.
"We should move."
Seconds after the words left the Legionnaire's lips, he fell. It all moved too quickly for Natalie's eyes to catch the detail; she was feeling increasingly sluggish, and the longer she stood immobile, focused doggedly on the face of the corporal, the more watery her balance felt. Had she hit her head? It was the screaming that finally anchored her; high and keening, as desperate as a wounded animal. Ekene was pinned under the weight of a Legionnaire, his injured hand crushed. One of the others had gathered the blood-soaked blade wrenched from the boy's grip.
"He's a child."
The words were murmured but her intention focused, shivering light through her skin. Her head panged retaliation, but the bloom of light suffused the warning of over-exertion. She moved, despite the sudden clench of the corporal's fingers as she withdrew from the handshake, trying to hold her back. "He's a child."
"Don't trust them, Natalie!"
Ekene shrieked, struggling manically in spite of the pain bulging his bloodshot eyes. He was wild, composed all of edges and malice.
Understanding took a second. The men with guns. She'd told him not to trust them, and apparently the words had soaked into his skin like a mantra. Faced with the crumbling of everything he knew, he clung on to whatever he could. Her brow furrowed, but she could hardly be angry. With anyone but herself, anyway. "I know."
It seemed fruitless to offer clarification now. Her knees hit the dirt beside him, palms splayed either side. A dangerous gleam of thread drifted close to the Legionnaire pinning Ekene to the ground, but she reigned it in. It rattled the edges of her control. "But you can trust me"
Confusion touched what she could see of his expression. Blood slicked the side of his face in the struggle, and tears had leaked from the corners of his eyes. But the effort went out of him, as deflated and dead as if his spirit had fled his body. Fear crawled in the space remaining, and she was half afraid he was going to start sobbing again.
"You can let him go."
She caught the Legionnaire's eyes; or, at least, she stared into the dark visor that covered them. "He's a student at my school. You can let him go."
She imagined the man glanced askance at his superior, but she deigned not to care so long as he did as asked. Released of the weight, Ekene whimpered and barely moved. Natalie noticed clearly for the first time how swollen his hand had become, how tightly laced the insistent agony creased his eyes and lined his young face. She remembered the insight she had gained at the hospital, but she did not have the room for sympathy. Not if they were going to get out of this alive.
"You can cry when we're safe, Ekene."
Her words were hard, but she swept a thumb under his eye, tilted his chin so that he had no choice but to look her. The paleness of her gaze was unsettling, the intensity of it, but her ferocity was softened by her protective nature. "Now get up."
She wasn't so sure she could even push herself to her own feet, but she found the reserves from somewhere. A somewhat wearied gaze turned to seek out what damage, exactly, Ekene had delivered; about the same time she recalled the same man's warning, and the chaos began to erupt around them. Natalie was no soldier; she flinched when the gunfire began to hail in their direction. Ekene bolted himself to her side, warm and slick with Legionnaire blood, but she extricated him, pushed him behind her instead. Unsavoury curses razored the edge of her tongue, but she didn't waste her breath on them. One of the Legionnaires was yelling at her, but she'd already moved forward to their fallen comrade. The attack had come swiftly, but they'd had time to pull him up.
Yet he was still in the dirt.
Her vision was swimming a little, wavering at the edges of its perfect clarity, and she stumbled more than knelt beside him. Her hand braced instinctively on his shoulder, catching her balance before she fell flat on her face. Tendrils rose like vapour from her body the moment her hand landed, unintentional, but it was a familiar sensation: more familiar than the violence that had arced from her in the hospital. She couldn't see much of his face, but the hard set of his jaw grimaced against the pain. Seconds later she understood why; both the pain, and why he hadn't stood.
There was a lot of blood. She was acutely aware of the heat of it on her skin, transferred when Ekene had clung to her. She could still feel him now, crouched down low behind her. The warmth of blood and tears soaked into the back of her shirt, where he buried his head. Men bled out from wounds like this. Such tendons were cut for torture, and she didn't want to know how Ekene had known how to be so precise.
"Some knight in shining armour, huh."
The morbidity of her humour twisted dry, and she glanced a brief smirk into the black, impersonal cover of his lenses before her attention glanced to the chaos, not that she could see much from the ground with the crowds so thick. Threads of light snapped and twisted, drawn by instinct and will. Sometimes that was enough. Sometimes it wasn't. Sweetness tingled her skin like electric, but her head still throbbed like something had knocked loose. "Probably a good idea to get up?"