10-26-2019, 07:28 PM
Natalie stretched out on the bed, feet crossed at the ankle, back propped with pillows. She raked fingers through her damp hair, glad to finally be rid of the stench of smoke. The light purpling of an emerging bruise was forming on one shin, but otherwise she was remarkably unscathed on the surface. Music hummed softly from her wallet, reigning her thoughts from dwelling too far inward. The past would exist whatever she willed, but it touched her less if she only looked back on her own terms. Light knows that’s easier said than done. For the rest, the power lured her concentration, her soiled clothes fanned out on her lap. Strands of light ribboned experimentally through the fabric.
While she worked she thought of the Jasiri girls weaving baskets and tending vegetables in defiance of tragedy. Peace was not a reward patiently received for good behaviour; it must be fought for tooth and nail, claimed even when ill deserved. Perhaps especially then. She’d learned that lesson time and again, but it didn’t always stick; not when drowning in the sorrows of a bottle always saw faster results, if more ephemeral. Only, relinquishing control now was no longer likely to see her fall alone. Doubt might still plague the words I can’t do this without you, tainted by the memory of her father’s involvement, but she valued what Jay had said anyway.
“If I can figure out the puzzle of this, I can at least go out and get us breakfast,” she said when the door opened. She did not look up immediately. Vengeance pumped Jay’s blood hot when he’d pulled her from the tunnels, and she hadn’t really understood the reaction at the time. It was infinitely more knowable now, in every clear price claimed from his flesh -- more, for those rent less obvious in his soul. Her jaw flexed, and for a moment perhaps the ice drew a little colder in her gaze, but she did not look away either. He wasn’t hers, and the grim consistency of his jokes suggested a line drawn between them. She wasn’t sure it was wise to cross. Knew it wasn’t actually. Maybe it was only the power making her more aware of each breath sinking deep in her lungs, but then it wasn’t the horror she lingered on once the first shock of his injuries passed. Did he have to tie the towel so low?
A devilish smirk finally fluttered when she realised the simple threads of her weave had unravelled, glad he couldn’t see the lapse in her concentration. “I guess we’re not in trouble, then.” A joke bedded in dry irony, realised the moment the words left her lips. She hated to think of the ghosts tumbling about in his skull, but she was never likely to tiptoe around them, for either of their sakes. The best she could do was protect the quiet for a time, a respite in the storm, for as long as she could anyway. She wanted more answers before they crossed the border into Mexico.
While she worked she thought of the Jasiri girls weaving baskets and tending vegetables in defiance of tragedy. Peace was not a reward patiently received for good behaviour; it must be fought for tooth and nail, claimed even when ill deserved. Perhaps especially then. She’d learned that lesson time and again, but it didn’t always stick; not when drowning in the sorrows of a bottle always saw faster results, if more ephemeral. Only, relinquishing control now was no longer likely to see her fall alone. Doubt might still plague the words I can’t do this without you, tainted by the memory of her father’s involvement, but she valued what Jay had said anyway.
“If I can figure out the puzzle of this, I can at least go out and get us breakfast,” she said when the door opened. She did not look up immediately. Vengeance pumped Jay’s blood hot when he’d pulled her from the tunnels, and she hadn’t really understood the reaction at the time. It was infinitely more knowable now, in every clear price claimed from his flesh -- more, for those rent less obvious in his soul. Her jaw flexed, and for a moment perhaps the ice drew a little colder in her gaze, but she did not look away either. He wasn’t hers, and the grim consistency of his jokes suggested a line drawn between them. She wasn’t sure it was wise to cross. Knew it wasn’t actually. Maybe it was only the power making her more aware of each breath sinking deep in her lungs, but then it wasn’t the horror she lingered on once the first shock of his injuries passed. Did he have to tie the towel so low?
A devilish smirk finally fluttered when she realised the simple threads of her weave had unravelled, glad he couldn’t see the lapse in her concentration. “I guess we’re not in trouble, then.” A joke bedded in dry irony, realised the moment the words left her lips. She hated to think of the ghosts tumbling about in his skull, but she was never likely to tiptoe around them, for either of their sakes. The best she could do was protect the quiet for a time, a respite in the storm, for as long as she could anyway. She wanted more answers before they crossed the border into Mexico.