03-21-2020, 11:04 PM
The soft rise and fall of Jay’s chest beneath her cheek suggested he might have fallen asleep some time later, but she didn’t tilt her chin up to check. The deep rhythm of his heart was one she didn’t want to soon forget, and such peace was a hard won luxury for her. Natalie was blunt with difficult truths, but less so with the vulnerable ones; those she even protected from herself, and this was one of them. It felt all the more fragile for its self-recognition. She’d never been the chaste sort, at least not before she’d met Aaron. But it had never felt like this.
She had little intention of allowing herself to drift off in the lingering warmth of tousled blankets, to let the seconds slip away from her despite the pleasant lull in her limbs, but she did let herself relax against him. The gift had left her now, and only a pleasant lethargy remained. Her fingers traced an idle pattern against his skin, light as breath so as not to disturb. She felt … well, she put no name to the emotions, lest they shatter the moment she put hope in them. Lessons like that left scars.
The harsh buzz of her phone was the intrusion to finally break the quiet melody. She didn’t shift immediately, though it robbed a little from the moment. Armour would rebuild when her senses returned, and it made her reluctant to acknowledge. But it might be her father finally returning that call. Or Marcus. Or worse. The world wouldn’t wait for them, after all, and she was not convinced Jay really appreciated all of the ways in which they were trapped by bad choices, despite what he’d said.
The fresh bruises in her side gave a twinge as she moved, easily enough ignored, and her gaze swept the dereliction around them with fresh eyes, brows half raised in mild surprise as she leaned over him to reach for her phone on the side. Mussed hair tumbled down her shoulders. The sly curve of her lips suggested she was not ignorant of her shifting body or the perch of her hand, and there was a warmth in her pale gaze that might easily become rekindled. A deferred promise, for when her palm closed on the tech her expression abruptly flattened to its familiar mask. The tension softened into relief once she glanced at the screen though, the bubble protecting them from reality as yet unscathed by whatever she had anticipated.
She paused a moment longer before she sank back in a quiet cast of contemplation. Then she passed the phone to Jay. A curious glance absorbed his reaction before she pressed her cheek against the cap of his shoulder. The kitten in Laurene’s photo message had grown considerably from the small ginger scrap swept from the battlefield. The cat was perched alert upon Ekene’s shoulder, one paw braced against the boy’s grinning cheek while the other swatted blurrily at something out of frame. The boy was caught amidst a laugh, but it was the renewed light in his eyes that struck her quiet.
She didn’t smile. Africa was a strange mix of pain and beauty to behold these days, wounds ill-healed yet stitched with fresh hope. Not everything in Sierra Leone had burned, and Natalie protected those fragile new shoots as vehemently as she denied their existence. It was a significant glimpse into her interior life and the things she held dear, not offered meekly but unusual all the same. After her rather unceremonious breakdown at the casino she’d intended to bury all evidence of those lingering burdens; the guilt, mostly. The weakness, certainly.
But maybe Jay ought to know that not everything they touched turned to ash.
Because a thousand concerns still swarmed the horizon, waiting to swallow the sun and plunge their reality to darkness. If she convinced him to return to the Custody she doubted she would see him again, but at least he would avoid Brandon’s wrath for desertion -- as it might appear by now. She was sure she could smooth those suspicions given the traces of drug in Jay’s system, and Marcus could vouch for it too, if he’d not grown annoyed with her silence by now. The proof was there though, if she could pull all the right strings. And Moscow perhaps held resources they would need.
Persisting here sang a dangerous sort of freedom though.
She did not begrudge Jay his revenge, but its ramifications were utterly unknowable without a more comprehensive picture. Amengual had walked elite circles in Moscow; his death would send political ripples in ways she could not predict. Killing a Custody pawn, particularly a favoured one, would not go down well. But they were already damned, weren’t they?
Morbid humour stirred. A pale leg poked from the frazzled blankets, and her foot brushed the top of his. Not that he’d see it, but a smirk softened her lips; purposely distracting, but he ought to be used to the devilish tease of her by now. What future lay ahead could wait; she refused to be bowed by the weight of it, and she would protect him as long as she could. “What does it feel like for you? The power?” He posed that question to her once, and she’d never asked it in kind.
She had little intention of allowing herself to drift off in the lingering warmth of tousled blankets, to let the seconds slip away from her despite the pleasant lull in her limbs, but she did let herself relax against him. The gift had left her now, and only a pleasant lethargy remained. Her fingers traced an idle pattern against his skin, light as breath so as not to disturb. She felt … well, she put no name to the emotions, lest they shatter the moment she put hope in them. Lessons like that left scars.
The harsh buzz of her phone was the intrusion to finally break the quiet melody. She didn’t shift immediately, though it robbed a little from the moment. Armour would rebuild when her senses returned, and it made her reluctant to acknowledge. But it might be her father finally returning that call. Or Marcus. Or worse. The world wouldn’t wait for them, after all, and she was not convinced Jay really appreciated all of the ways in which they were trapped by bad choices, despite what he’d said.
The fresh bruises in her side gave a twinge as she moved, easily enough ignored, and her gaze swept the dereliction around them with fresh eyes, brows half raised in mild surprise as she leaned over him to reach for her phone on the side. Mussed hair tumbled down her shoulders. The sly curve of her lips suggested she was not ignorant of her shifting body or the perch of her hand, and there was a warmth in her pale gaze that might easily become rekindled. A deferred promise, for when her palm closed on the tech her expression abruptly flattened to its familiar mask. The tension softened into relief once she glanced at the screen though, the bubble protecting them from reality as yet unscathed by whatever she had anticipated.
She paused a moment longer before she sank back in a quiet cast of contemplation. Then she passed the phone to Jay. A curious glance absorbed his reaction before she pressed her cheek against the cap of his shoulder. The kitten in Laurene’s photo message had grown considerably from the small ginger scrap swept from the battlefield. The cat was perched alert upon Ekene’s shoulder, one paw braced against the boy’s grinning cheek while the other swatted blurrily at something out of frame. The boy was caught amidst a laugh, but it was the renewed light in his eyes that struck her quiet.
She didn’t smile. Africa was a strange mix of pain and beauty to behold these days, wounds ill-healed yet stitched with fresh hope. Not everything in Sierra Leone had burned, and Natalie protected those fragile new shoots as vehemently as she denied their existence. It was a significant glimpse into her interior life and the things she held dear, not offered meekly but unusual all the same. After her rather unceremonious breakdown at the casino she’d intended to bury all evidence of those lingering burdens; the guilt, mostly. The weakness, certainly.
But maybe Jay ought to know that not everything they touched turned to ash.
Because a thousand concerns still swarmed the horizon, waiting to swallow the sun and plunge their reality to darkness. If she convinced him to return to the Custody she doubted she would see him again, but at least he would avoid Brandon’s wrath for desertion -- as it might appear by now. She was sure she could smooth those suspicions given the traces of drug in Jay’s system, and Marcus could vouch for it too, if he’d not grown annoyed with her silence by now. The proof was there though, if she could pull all the right strings. And Moscow perhaps held resources they would need.
Persisting here sang a dangerous sort of freedom though.
She did not begrudge Jay his revenge, but its ramifications were utterly unknowable without a more comprehensive picture. Amengual had walked elite circles in Moscow; his death would send political ripples in ways she could not predict. Killing a Custody pawn, particularly a favoured one, would not go down well. But they were already damned, weren’t they?
Morbid humour stirred. A pale leg poked from the frazzled blankets, and her foot brushed the top of his. Not that he’d see it, but a smirk softened her lips; purposely distracting, but he ought to be used to the devilish tease of her by now. What future lay ahead could wait; she refused to be bowed by the weight of it, and she would protect him as long as she could. “What does it feel like for you? The power?” He posed that question to her once, and she’d never asked it in kind.