01-01-2023, 10:31 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-02-2023, 02:43 AM by Natalie Grey.
Edit Reason: added link
)
[[Da Capo and Legato precede this post]]
She took a cold shower.
A very cold shower, actually. Afterwards she piled her hair in a knot on top of her head, and shrugged on an old shirt. She sat at the piano bench, one leg folded under her weight. Her fingers idled the keys, seeking the distraction of a cadence to sooth the thoughts from her head. Around her the apartment was sparse as a hotel room. Boxes still sat unpacked in corners, mostly things forwarded from her family’s Aubagne estate in some misguided encouragement for Natalie to make the place a home. She’d only ever arrived with a suitcase all those months ago, one she was still practically living out of since her return from America.
She felt restless still. A little self-inflicted, granted, though it was not just that.
She tried to examine whether she felt guilty, but only discovered numbness. In Adrian she carved out a shallow sanctuary. He was unafraid of wanting her. Natalie hadn’t realised how badly she craved it.
For a while the music built. Power hovered alongside her senses like a question, but she no longer needed the aid, and did not desire the sensitivity. It remained only a soft awareness, like a fog against her contemplations. Jay had laid designs on her heart before she’d even recognised the danger in it. She’d been foolish to take his hand the second time; she knew that, and did not regret it. Her father had not been wrong about the bindings of loyalty; but he saw them as chains, when she knew them for the connections that made life worth living.
Natalie had never checked to see if the message had been read. Silence stung, even though it had been expected. She was fully aware of the ways she let the injury unfairly fester. Jay might be deep in the Facility, cut off. He might be deployed to Africa already for all she knew. Don’t disappear had been her last words to him. If he was gone, she could only presume it was a choice. What right did she have to chase him down, knowing the wounds it would reopen? Perhaps her face would always be tied to the most tragic parts of his past. He’d loved Cayli unconditionally, but he’d never let his little sister in; not in the ways she had been desperate to be close to him. Natalie might fathom a thousand reasons why, but whatever conclusions she drew, she knew she’d felt the cold edge of that same blade time and again.
She felt it now, and she was not sure if it was the flat or the edge.
He’d find himself solace. That was painful to accept, but she would. If she had to. But the shape of Jay’s survival was not something she wanted to contemplate.
The music stilled. The reverberations of the last notes took a while to fade.
The resolution was what left her numb. She wasn’t even sure she had the resources to find him, not with the ruthless way she had used them up the last time, and he knew exactly where she was. The circle tightened. And nothing would be accomplished with inertia. She closed the lid on the piano, felt its weight catch on her fingers. She wasn’t sure how long Toma would be occupied in returning Adrian to wherever home was.
The number had repeated its march across her thoughts so often since her c]]onversation with Alistair that she did not need to retrieve the scrap of paper to key it in her wallet. It barely rang before a recorded voicemail intoned: a name, followed by an out of office instruction that gave no indication of Orion like expected. When the beep for a message came she paused only a moment; motivation pushed her off the cliffedge of caution. Almost as soon as she gave her name – Grey, not Northbrook – the receiver clicked and someone spoke.
Afterwards she grabbed a sheet of music paper, twisted it over to the blank side, and drew a belligerently smiley face for Toma. Then she pulled on a coat and jeans, and slipped out the door.
[continued at In Case of Fire, Break Glass]]
She took a cold shower.
A very cold shower, actually. Afterwards she piled her hair in a knot on top of her head, and shrugged on an old shirt. She sat at the piano bench, one leg folded under her weight. Her fingers idled the keys, seeking the distraction of a cadence to sooth the thoughts from her head. Around her the apartment was sparse as a hotel room. Boxes still sat unpacked in corners, mostly things forwarded from her family’s Aubagne estate in some misguided encouragement for Natalie to make the place a home. She’d only ever arrived with a suitcase all those months ago, one she was still practically living out of since her return from America.
She felt restless still. A little self-inflicted, granted, though it was not just that.
She tried to examine whether she felt guilty, but only discovered numbness. In Adrian she carved out a shallow sanctuary. He was unafraid of wanting her. Natalie hadn’t realised how badly she craved it.
For a while the music built. Power hovered alongside her senses like a question, but she no longer needed the aid, and did not desire the sensitivity. It remained only a soft awareness, like a fog against her contemplations. Jay had laid designs on her heart before she’d even recognised the danger in it. She’d been foolish to take his hand the second time; she knew that, and did not regret it. Her father had not been wrong about the bindings of loyalty; but he saw them as chains, when she knew them for the connections that made life worth living.
Natalie had never checked to see if the message had been read. Silence stung, even though it had been expected. She was fully aware of the ways she let the injury unfairly fester. Jay might be deep in the Facility, cut off. He might be deployed to Africa already for all she knew. Don’t disappear had been her last words to him. If he was gone, she could only presume it was a choice. What right did she have to chase him down, knowing the wounds it would reopen? Perhaps her face would always be tied to the most tragic parts of his past. He’d loved Cayli unconditionally, but he’d never let his little sister in; not in the ways she had been desperate to be close to him. Natalie might fathom a thousand reasons why, but whatever conclusions she drew, she knew she’d felt the cold edge of that same blade time and again.
She felt it now, and she was not sure if it was the flat or the edge.
He’d find himself solace. That was painful to accept, but she would. If she had to. But the shape of Jay’s survival was not something she wanted to contemplate.
The music stilled. The reverberations of the last notes took a while to fade.
The resolution was what left her numb. She wasn’t even sure she had the resources to find him, not with the ruthless way she had used them up the last time, and he knew exactly where she was. The circle tightened. And nothing would be accomplished with inertia. She closed the lid on the piano, felt its weight catch on her fingers. She wasn’t sure how long Toma would be occupied in returning Adrian to wherever home was.
The number had repeated its march across her thoughts so often since her c]]onversation with Alistair that she did not need to retrieve the scrap of paper to key it in her wallet. It barely rang before a recorded voicemail intoned: a name, followed by an out of office instruction that gave no indication of Orion like expected. When the beep for a message came she paused only a moment; motivation pushed her off the cliffedge of caution. Almost as soon as she gave her name – Grey, not Northbrook – the receiver clicked and someone spoke.
Afterwards she grabbed a sheet of music paper, twisted it over to the blank side, and drew a belligerently smiley face for Toma. Then she pulled on a coat and jeans, and slipped out the door.
[continued at In Case of Fire, Break Glass]]