12-19-2021, 11:53 PM
He was out before the engine died, much to Natalie’s quiet amusement. She glanced at the driver’s mirror before she clicked her own door open, intending to suggest the woman stay put, though since Toma didn’t answer to her it was probably pointless. Outside it was cool, but only in a way that made her content to be free of the city’s cloy. It was also dark, just the car’s beams casting illumination on the property up ahead: vast, but old, and not well kept. Natalie watched Adrian for a moment, mostly because she was gratified by the curiosity – and that it was in the right place.
“I don’t suppose you know what I’ve been doing since I left London.” Maybe, and maybe not. Her flight was scandal at the time, declared self-imposed exile or familial punishment by the newsfeeds, but half a decade later was a long time to retain knowledge about a stranger. Her work in Africa had been centred at a women’s refuge to begin with, at least until a reckless risk forced her to move on. Then the school after that. She didn’t dwell too long on the tight squeeze in her chest. His answer didn’t matter; what he knew about her or didn’t.
The path towards the entrance was uneven, a little difficult to navigate at night with only the car’s headlights, so her pace was not hasty. She didn’t reach for his arm, though she walked close enough to be companionable. “It was teaching, mostly. The forgotten kids especially. There are parts of the world still where girls aren’t ever offered an education unless someone fights for it.” A wry smirk caught her lips, likely lost in the shadows. But if she’d leaned into disparaging the Custody before, she held her tongue on it now. For now anyway.
The looming estate was in disrepair because it was all she could afford without relying on family money, and this was not a Northbrook investment. That was an important distinction. Since he doubtless understood that she came from wealth, he might remark on the anomaly, or perhaps just file it away for scrutiny. Added to that the country location, and he might get a sense of her intent. Some of it at least.
She didn’t have the key to hand, but a brief twist of power clicked the lock easily enough to appear as if the door had just been left open. The gift did not leave her veins afterwards, and power-sharpened eyes glanced back at his expression before she slipped inside the large, echoey foyer. The electrics were unsafe, one of a long list of works needing to be done, but the foundations were there. And nothing built loyalty like sharing hard work; that, she was counting on.
Pale eyes spent a moment in the shadows, then she gestured a hand, and light bloomed from her palm, floated up even when her arm dropped. Natalie hadn’t hidden what she was at the club, and she did not know if he had pieced it together from Zhenya’s conversation, but she wasn’t interested in his reaction. “Most girls die before they ever learn how to do that.”
“I don’t suppose you know what I’ve been doing since I left London.” Maybe, and maybe not. Her flight was scandal at the time, declared self-imposed exile or familial punishment by the newsfeeds, but half a decade later was a long time to retain knowledge about a stranger. Her work in Africa had been centred at a women’s refuge to begin with, at least until a reckless risk forced her to move on. Then the school after that. She didn’t dwell too long on the tight squeeze in her chest. His answer didn’t matter; what he knew about her or didn’t.
The path towards the entrance was uneven, a little difficult to navigate at night with only the car’s headlights, so her pace was not hasty. She didn’t reach for his arm, though she walked close enough to be companionable. “It was teaching, mostly. The forgotten kids especially. There are parts of the world still where girls aren’t ever offered an education unless someone fights for it.” A wry smirk caught her lips, likely lost in the shadows. But if she’d leaned into disparaging the Custody before, she held her tongue on it now. For now anyway.
The looming estate was in disrepair because it was all she could afford without relying on family money, and this was not a Northbrook investment. That was an important distinction. Since he doubtless understood that she came from wealth, he might remark on the anomaly, or perhaps just file it away for scrutiny. Added to that the country location, and he might get a sense of her intent. Some of it at least.
She didn’t have the key to hand, but a brief twist of power clicked the lock easily enough to appear as if the door had just been left open. The gift did not leave her veins afterwards, and power-sharpened eyes glanced back at his expression before she slipped inside the large, echoey foyer. The electrics were unsafe, one of a long list of works needing to be done, but the foundations were there. And nothing built loyalty like sharing hard work; that, she was counting on.
Pale eyes spent a moment in the shadows, then she gestured a hand, and light bloomed from her palm, floated up even when her arm dropped. Natalie hadn’t hidden what she was at the club, and she did not know if he had pieced it together from Zhenya’s conversation, but she wasn’t interested in his reaction. “Most girls die before they ever learn how to do that.”