01-30-2020, 07:55 PM
“And it’s a good job too, because you happen to be a shit liar.”
Jay’s moods struck like summer lightning, hitting the earth just a little differently each time. A tomorrow, no matter how formless, was better than the alternative. For now it was enough.
Placaso. The new name seared, tightening the edges of her expression as she tucked the knowledge away. Meanwhile, her heart beat hard in her chest; powerless. Emotion swelled and crashed without finding an outlet as Jay’s gaze pulled away and beyond her. The pierce of her own did not move, charting the hairline cracks like the new scars across his skin, but she did not interrupt the stretch of silence. She watched him break; felt the anchor of her soul fall alongside as he blinked burning eyes and drifted far away. Until he spoke.
Natalie did not turn to survey the wallpaper in question. The obsessive counting did not feel odd. In fact it felt disconcerting familiar.
“There have been times in my life when I would’ve given anything for someone to hold out a hand and offer an escape.” If she was honest, she almost always had one eye on the horizon, like the knot of dissatisfaction could never truly be smoothed from her soul. She had no real love for the Custody, despite the riches of her name. Probably her family would do better without the black sheep in their midst -- framed that way it’d almost be a damn favour to relieve them of the burden.
It was the closest she’d come to making it clear she would not haul him back to Moscow, despite the official duties binding her to the journey in the first place. Jay’s life was his own whatever he thought. Even so, she did not think he would accept the offer -- which was perhaps why she did not make it explicit. Maybe he would be scandalised she even suggested it, given how he felt about Brandon. It didn’t stop her, though. And she meant it, even knowing that at least half of those paraded devils wrapped him in chains of loyalty, not of hate. There was no escaping such a web, no matter how far they ran. They had a good head start, though. The futility almost curved a black smile to her lips.
Natalie unravelled her arms, palms stinging where the nails had bedded. Her thoughts were surprisingly quiet as she bridged the distance, uncertain of the reception she would receive. A little kindness might shatter such a brittle shell, and she did not intend to push him toward that edge. Her hand brushed lightly against the dishevelled tufts of his hair, her insides squeezing at the haunt of his expression. Consideration of fragility vanished quickly under that weight; she leaned into his lap, arms wound fierce around his neck. It would not be terribly surprising to feel him flinch, and while it would hurt to recognise, she could hardly blame him either. It was a selfish act of possession more than an attempt at comfort. Because he was alive. Because maybe these were crossroads, whatever he chose. Tomorrow was never a certainty after all.
Natalie’s face pressed into the crook of his neck. A silent breath. Two. Remembering what home had ever felt like, and ready to let it go again when it inevitably slipped through her fingers like sand.
Her forehead lifted to touch his. “I won’t do this without you.” She repurposed his own words with steel; staring defiance into the void. It would not claim him whole while she had breath. That was the only thing she could promise, for there were not enough pieces left to fix. Though if she cut herself to shreds in the attempt, so be it.
There was little sentimental about her when she pulled back enough to meet his eye. “Jessika Thrice was on the verge of ceding Texas to the Custody, and I’m certain Amengual was among those vying for control of the new Dominance. He won’t go to ground long, I think. Not with those stakes. And if he does?” She’d had plenty of time to think this through. “The guy you were seeing in Moscow; Alvis accused him of being Atharim. They’d be interested in Amengual’s tech. They must have resources we could use to find him.”
Dangerous and foolish, both, though only if the Atharim discovered Amengual before they did. She gave the suggestion a moment to permeate, but was not finished. The last words were quieter; certain, but aware that the impact might erode what remained of his composure. "Jay, what would she want you to do?"
Jay’s moods struck like summer lightning, hitting the earth just a little differently each time. A tomorrow, no matter how formless, was better than the alternative. For now it was enough.
Placaso. The new name seared, tightening the edges of her expression as she tucked the knowledge away. Meanwhile, her heart beat hard in her chest; powerless. Emotion swelled and crashed without finding an outlet as Jay’s gaze pulled away and beyond her. The pierce of her own did not move, charting the hairline cracks like the new scars across his skin, but she did not interrupt the stretch of silence. She watched him break; felt the anchor of her soul fall alongside as he blinked burning eyes and drifted far away. Until he spoke.
Natalie did not turn to survey the wallpaper in question. The obsessive counting did not feel odd. In fact it felt disconcerting familiar.
“There have been times in my life when I would’ve given anything for someone to hold out a hand and offer an escape.” If she was honest, she almost always had one eye on the horizon, like the knot of dissatisfaction could never truly be smoothed from her soul. She had no real love for the Custody, despite the riches of her name. Probably her family would do better without the black sheep in their midst -- framed that way it’d almost be a damn favour to relieve them of the burden.
It was the closest she’d come to making it clear she would not haul him back to Moscow, despite the official duties binding her to the journey in the first place. Jay’s life was his own whatever he thought. Even so, she did not think he would accept the offer -- which was perhaps why she did not make it explicit. Maybe he would be scandalised she even suggested it, given how he felt about Brandon. It didn’t stop her, though. And she meant it, even knowing that at least half of those paraded devils wrapped him in chains of loyalty, not of hate. There was no escaping such a web, no matter how far they ran. They had a good head start, though. The futility almost curved a black smile to her lips.
Natalie unravelled her arms, palms stinging where the nails had bedded. Her thoughts were surprisingly quiet as she bridged the distance, uncertain of the reception she would receive. A little kindness might shatter such a brittle shell, and she did not intend to push him toward that edge. Her hand brushed lightly against the dishevelled tufts of his hair, her insides squeezing at the haunt of his expression. Consideration of fragility vanished quickly under that weight; she leaned into his lap, arms wound fierce around his neck. It would not be terribly surprising to feel him flinch, and while it would hurt to recognise, she could hardly blame him either. It was a selfish act of possession more than an attempt at comfort. Because he was alive. Because maybe these were crossroads, whatever he chose. Tomorrow was never a certainty after all.
Natalie’s face pressed into the crook of his neck. A silent breath. Two. Remembering what home had ever felt like, and ready to let it go again when it inevitably slipped through her fingers like sand.
Her forehead lifted to touch his. “I won’t do this without you.” She repurposed his own words with steel; staring defiance into the void. It would not claim him whole while she had breath. That was the only thing she could promise, for there were not enough pieces left to fix. Though if she cut herself to shreds in the attempt, so be it.
There was little sentimental about her when she pulled back enough to meet his eye. “Jessika Thrice was on the verge of ceding Texas to the Custody, and I’m certain Amengual was among those vying for control of the new Dominance. He won’t go to ground long, I think. Not with those stakes. And if he does?” She’d had plenty of time to think this through. “The guy you were seeing in Moscow; Alvis accused him of being Atharim. They’d be interested in Amengual’s tech. They must have resources we could use to find him.”
Dangerous and foolish, both, though only if the Atharim discovered Amengual before they did. She gave the suggestion a moment to permeate, but was not finished. The last words were quieter; certain, but aware that the impact might erode what remained of his composure. "Jay, what would she want you to do?"