10-06-2018, 07:22 PM
The trail of his fingers captured her attention, igniting a warmth that was harder to tame than simple lust. The foolishness of such a spell exaggerated the breathing in her chest; a softer fall than before.
She listened quietly, knowing no words could calm the storm of those conflicts. Nor would she want to cut such ties clean, complicated as they were, for they were the etchings that made his heart what it was. She'd never considered his vows to country, perhaps because they were not bonds she could admit to understanding -- a faceless devotion, built on unquestioning trust. Natalie could not follow if she did not understand why; in pursuit of such truth, she was fearless.
The words squeezed her chest. She did not know what to do to staunch the flow of that wound, sensing something she was desperate not to become fatal. She listened, though, with a clear gaze that did not blink away -- even when he might rather escape the pierce of it.
"Yes, he's right," she said bluntly. He would find no solace from her there; no comforting platitudes to try and soothe the shame darkening his expression. Natalie placed him on no pedestal; he had not just disobeyed an order, he had mutilated until the man resembled so much as bloody meat. But neither did she flinch from dwelling in the shadows with that coiled monster. No disgust marred the search of her expression. The anchor of her touch did not cease its softness. "But I'm not going to let him have it."
Then, recalling those painful words into the side of his horse, enough to tighten her jaw at the memory. "And nor are you."
Jay was everything Evelyn feared. Torn duties, the bloody conflicts of a loyal heart, a brutality both chained and unleashed to the call of good intentions. Training alone made him dangerous, but the siren hold of power threatened to make him monstrous. A foolish thing to want to protect, and yet she would.
Her brow knit faintly at the name. "No, I don't think so."
There was an easy path here, albeit one currently drowning at the bottom of the lake. For the first time she considered that Jay may have had the same thought; her father commanded federal agents from a cell a world away, after all, and plucked state secrets like overripe fruit. Framed in such a light she didn't blame him for grasping at the resource, though the curl of that thought ripped. The wound flared sore. She didn't want to consider Jay had been prepared to hurt her in the process.
"I don't suppose you fancy that swim? As much as I'm relieved it's gone, I'm quite sure he could have helped. Given sufficient motivation, at least." The words cracked dry, a listless humour. Her willingness to bring it up reared shy, a stillness capturing her expression; protecting the stir of emotion within, and shielding it from sight. If he asked her to break that silence anyway, she wondered what she would say. Probably she already knew the answer. She forged on anyway.
"You realise you can't be seen to be digging into this, quite aside from the fact you already have enough in the way of enemies." She didn't need to list the stakes; the weight of failure would ripple far further than the bubble of Jay's family. The Custody's host of American diplomats was a big deal; a tentative grasp at peace between their nations. An American defector, a channeling American defector, caught attempting to unravel the sorts of secrets Jay hinted at would be a battle cry to every war monger in the shadows. Worse that he had Brandon's sanction to be here.
But Natalie had far less to lose. A shadow chased her anyway.
A father's daughter.
Her attention returned to the badge produced from a jacket pocket, the set of her expression only thoughtful now. "Diaz is on the board of directors for an American pharmaceutical company as well. Seems he's a busy man." The torn scrap of paper had no place in this, and yet the link disclosed was too conspicuous to be a coincidence. If she shut her eyes she could almost see the connections like a faint tracery of webbing, but the common thread forming the pattern was elusive.
And might only take one small phonecall, and a sufferance of pride, to reveal.
"He," she wouldn't say his name, "had someone break into the apartment the night we left, but he couldn't have known I was leaving, so I don't know why he left those documents. There was a message too. Something about choosing allies with care. I have the remaining papers if you want to go through them." She thought she'd understood her father's motivation, but now she was not so sure. She hadn't had time to search for links between the two files, and now one half was presumed little more than the ash she had found on her floor.
The offer was raw and spoken with little inflection. But frustration swelled. Her head pressed light against his chest, seeking something solid in a tilted world. It was a somewhat tentative comfort, like she was unsure whether he might wisp like smoke. Weakness was not keenly shared at the best of times, and last night's rejections wounded deeper than she'd ever care to admit. Which was probably why she plunged her hand straight back into the fire, though only for a careless moment. When she pulled back it was to push the hair from her face, stifling a sigh.
"A few days ago even permission for the leave to come home would have seemed impossible, and the means to save Cayli even more so. And yet here we are." They would fix this. They had to.
She listened quietly, knowing no words could calm the storm of those conflicts. Nor would she want to cut such ties clean, complicated as they were, for they were the etchings that made his heart what it was. She'd never considered his vows to country, perhaps because they were not bonds she could admit to understanding -- a faceless devotion, built on unquestioning trust. Natalie could not follow if she did not understand why; in pursuit of such truth, she was fearless.
The words squeezed her chest. She did not know what to do to staunch the flow of that wound, sensing something she was desperate not to become fatal. She listened, though, with a clear gaze that did not blink away -- even when he might rather escape the pierce of it.
"Yes, he's right," she said bluntly. He would find no solace from her there; no comforting platitudes to try and soothe the shame darkening his expression. Natalie placed him on no pedestal; he had not just disobeyed an order, he had mutilated until the man resembled so much as bloody meat. But neither did she flinch from dwelling in the shadows with that coiled monster. No disgust marred the search of her expression. The anchor of her touch did not cease its softness. "But I'm not going to let him have it."
Then, recalling those painful words into the side of his horse, enough to tighten her jaw at the memory. "And nor are you."
Jay was everything Evelyn feared. Torn duties, the bloody conflicts of a loyal heart, a brutality both chained and unleashed to the call of good intentions. Training alone made him dangerous, but the siren hold of power threatened to make him monstrous. A foolish thing to want to protect, and yet she would.
Her brow knit faintly at the name. "No, I don't think so."
There was an easy path here, albeit one currently drowning at the bottom of the lake. For the first time she considered that Jay may have had the same thought; her father commanded federal agents from a cell a world away, after all, and plucked state secrets like overripe fruit. Framed in such a light she didn't blame him for grasping at the resource, though the curl of that thought ripped. The wound flared sore. She didn't want to consider Jay had been prepared to hurt her in the process.
"I don't suppose you fancy that swim? As much as I'm relieved it's gone, I'm quite sure he could have helped. Given sufficient motivation, at least." The words cracked dry, a listless humour. Her willingness to bring it up reared shy, a stillness capturing her expression; protecting the stir of emotion within, and shielding it from sight. If he asked her to break that silence anyway, she wondered what she would say. Probably she already knew the answer. She forged on anyway.
"You realise you can't be seen to be digging into this, quite aside from the fact you already have enough in the way of enemies." She didn't need to list the stakes; the weight of failure would ripple far further than the bubble of Jay's family. The Custody's host of American diplomats was a big deal; a tentative grasp at peace between their nations. An American defector, a channeling American defector, caught attempting to unravel the sorts of secrets Jay hinted at would be a battle cry to every war monger in the shadows. Worse that he had Brandon's sanction to be here.
But Natalie had far less to lose. A shadow chased her anyway.
A father's daughter.
Her attention returned to the badge produced from a jacket pocket, the set of her expression only thoughtful now. "Diaz is on the board of directors for an American pharmaceutical company as well. Seems he's a busy man." The torn scrap of paper had no place in this, and yet the link disclosed was too conspicuous to be a coincidence. If she shut her eyes she could almost see the connections like a faint tracery of webbing, but the common thread forming the pattern was elusive.
And might only take one small phonecall, and a sufferance of pride, to reveal.
"He," she wouldn't say his name, "had someone break into the apartment the night we left, but he couldn't have known I was leaving, so I don't know why he left those documents. There was a message too. Something about choosing allies with care. I have the remaining papers if you want to go through them." She thought she'd understood her father's motivation, but now she was not so sure. She hadn't had time to search for links between the two files, and now one half was presumed little more than the ash she had found on her floor.
The offer was raw and spoken with little inflection. But frustration swelled. Her head pressed light against his chest, seeking something solid in a tilted world. It was a somewhat tentative comfort, like she was unsure whether he might wisp like smoke. Weakness was not keenly shared at the best of times, and last night's rejections wounded deeper than she'd ever care to admit. Which was probably why she plunged her hand straight back into the fire, though only for a careless moment. When she pulled back it was to push the hair from her face, stifling a sigh.
"A few days ago even permission for the leave to come home would have seemed impossible, and the means to save Cayli even more so. And yet here we are." They would fix this. They had to.