What Now?

[Nox]

Life was a whirlwind of crisis' one after the other. And it all felt normal and Nox had nothing but a dull feeling about it all. Sasha just showing up had been the worse and best thing that could have happened. He hated and loved it, or he would if he felt anything at all. But it all was just there. His life was just there. It was nothing but the dull day to day life of a mundane person. How did he ever live like this.

Nox had become so reliant on the power that without it he felt useless and half the person he was. But it didn't bother him. It should. He should be pissed and throwing things, but it was just life -- it went on.  One step at a time, one minute, one second. Life went on and Nox had made himself a promise a long time ago that he wouldn't go out like his father. Suicide was not in his cards. He was less a danger to himself than before, and yet even more at risk for doing something stupid. At least going after Pirozzi had gone well.  He'll have to do better against other creatures.

Salvation and Damnation were now both on his hip when he left the house under the large puffy jacket he had to wear.  Oriena's text had startled Nox as he fed Lily. He'd almost forgotten he'd sent her a text days ago about needing to meet. And she finally responded. It was a good thing he hadn't needed it anymore. But now he had to break the news and while it wouldn't damage what they had, there was a pang of guilt and sorrow that it could. Oriena was unpredictable and Nox could never guess where her wind might blow.

He sent her the location of the shit motel they used often that paid by the hour. They might use a lot or a little or none at all.

Nox left Lily with Marta a little earlier than usual, Oriena would not appreciate a baby. She barely tolerated him most days.

The place was a shit hole, but it was the cleanest of the shit holes Nox had used. No bugs, and the sheets were clean.

Nox was early he always was.  He put the gun and knife on the stand next to the TV and sat on the bed waiting for Oriena to show up. It could be soon, it could be an hour or more. He didn't expect her to jump when he said he needed her. He was not at all surprised it had been days. Normally he'd have gone looking for her in her favorite haunts, but he hadn't had the need, the horde was gone and now this was an end. He could have done it at Kallisti or someplace else it wasn't about sex though he would oblige her in anything and in any way and he could just lie, but that would end poorly. And he didn't lie to Oriena. There was no need. There were no secrets between them.

[Oriena]

Her cheekbone smarted in the icy Mosocw air, the white of one eye blushed red in the corner where the vessels burst – new injuries layered atop those sustained during her spar with Mia, from fights picked in less safe locations than that shithole of a gym. The bag of drugs was still slipped deep inside a pocket, but she’d not touched them – mostly because of how much she wanted it. In stone cold sobriety she was brittle and frustrated, and the anger had nowhere to go but her fists. Between that recklessness she was waiting for the next nosebleed, the next swell of pressure inside her skull, but it hadn’t happened yet. The whispers of the ijiraq were like half-heard conversations in the back of her mind. The lingering promise of a storm.

She’d stopped going to the club, not even to assess the new dancers, which she normally did whenever Carmen suggested new hires. Instead she’d just told the other woman to handle it. Kallisti was more or less in Nox’s hands now, whether he realised it or not. Slowly, she was cutting her ties.

The motel was familiar, and not the kind of place anyone asked questions. Not that Ori was the sort of woman people stopped to interrogate anyway. She shouldered in the door, eyed where Nox sat on the bed with a look that quickly flickered into disdain. It wasn’t the ravenously impatient posture it should have been, which perhaps meant he’d found someone else to scratch the violent itch with. She didn’t internalise whether or not that meant anything to her. But she did consider that it might mean he intended to talk. Which was precisely why she didn’t yet close the door behind her.

[Nox]

Nox looked up and saw the near flight in the open door. He stood up, there was not telling what Oriena would do and short of walking to the door and closing it for her, he had no way to keep her from fleeing his words. But he didn't want to hide, or fake it, or mince words with Oriena. He was grateful for her help in his shit and she knew he was there if she wanted it -- which she never did so offering to help was neither not an offer she was likely to take and she definitely wouldn't stick around for a pity fuck as she'd probably assume it was.

No song played in his ear. Ashtons voice silent for the moment while he conveyed the absolute misery of his life to the only person who had ever unerstood any of his shit. "The horde is gone, Oriena." His voice was emotionless. It should contain the fire of the loss, or excitement at it's disappearance. He didn't elaborate, Oriena didn't care. But it took effort to keep his mouth shut and let her decide what she wanted to do.

While his voice held nothing his body was ready for whatever Oriena through at him. He was ready for a fight, ready to submit if that was what he felt she needed at the given moment. He welcomed whatever she had to give him. He'd at least feel something without the help of Ashton's song. He was positive anything with Oriena would be better than a stranger. There was power in trust and respect.

She could leave, she could bolt out the door, but he wanted to explain, and ... against his better judgement Nox closed the distance between them with his usual grace and speed. He reached out with the mechanical hand, not lost upon him that she'd destroyed the other the last time he did this, but it was different this time. His fingers collapsed around her throat and felt the soft tender skin of beneath his fingers, he didn't squeeze to hurt or strangle, but she knew he was there. "Nothing has to change." He said quietly.

[Oriena]

The confession permeated quickly but with little reaction on her part. Truth was it was already written in every line of his body language so she had no reason to doubt or question it. She said nothing, just looked him over with a quick flick of the eyes. The horde was the heart of their connection, but also its mask, and without it Oriena was unsure she wanted to confront what was left. She knew the impact turning and walking out would have on him; the deep pain it would cause. And for a moment she did want to hurt him that way. Because he’d escaped in a way she couldn’t. Because the truth was he’d be better off without her now, and it was the easiest way to make the cut clean.

He had a houseful of misfits to return to. Family was everything Nox wanted. He craved that sunshine the same way he craved Rafael.

Her look darkened when he closed his mechanical hand around her throat, and she knew it was a promise – or perhaps just a desperate desire not to lose her. Nox knew her as well as she knew herself in some ways. But it wasn’t an invitation she’d take knowing his reasons for offering, and in the moment the gesture only reminded her of Sasha. The drug packet he’d left by her unconscious body was still stuffed in her pocket, and she’d always had a visceral dislike of that kind of transaction. The pitying kind.

“Everything changes eventually,” she said bluntly. “And it was getting old anyway.” She added the latter scathingly, though it lacked any true venom. She pushed down the wave of sudden tiredness inside, didn’t shove away his hand, in part because she imagined he’d let go himself, but also because she wasn’t sure what she’d do when he did. “It wasn’t the only thing you lost, I take it.”

[Nox]

The words were biting. They were meant to hurt, though she didn't truly make the effort to add to the pain. Not that he felt it anyway. He wished he did. And she knew that something else was gone. Nox didn't remove his hand, instead the thumb of the mechanical hand caressed the tender skin which he held pressing lightly into the empty space below her jaw. It would be easy to kill her, not that he was thinking it. But it would. Just trying could end his life, she was quick with the power, she could slice through him like butter, and it would be his fault, but there would be nothing he could do.

"It took everything that made me who I am. The power of the gods. My fucking will to live. Left me a husk of the man I was." Nox pressed his thumb harder into the hollow under Oriena's neck, not enough to hurt, barely enough that she knew he was doing it. "I know you could split me in two with a thought."

Nox shivered at the thought at the feeling running through his veins. It was brief excitation, a feeling tight inside and fleeting. But it was there and feeling and could feel more with Ori. He whispered. "This doesn't need to change. Make me feel something."

[Oriena]

She’d meant the power; she knew enough about the horde’s functioning to understand that if Nox said they were gone, they could not have gone without a sacrifice. But something in the way he explained it in his own words made her realise it was deeper than that. The absence was stripping, like an unplugged wound. Terminal.

“I’m not that kind of absolution.” She said it husky and low, but her eyes were stormy and narrowed, offering not a shred of pity. Like she’d ever agree to be the instrument of his weakness. Like she’d ever offer him mercy.

There’d always been an unspoken agreement between them; that if the horde won out and a line was crossed, Ori had no problem ending it. But that was different – it was the price of playing with fire. The balance of violence between them spoke of more trust than she cared to admit, and it was easier to tell herself she didn’t walk out because of his hand tightening around her throat. It was a flimsy lie, especially now they were not remotely equal in strength, but it sufficed.

That, and the flame of anger sparked from his words.

“So that’s it? Lose your power, lose yourself. It’s pathetic, Nox. I won’t stick around to watch you give up. I won’t watch you begging scraps.” She was as incensed as she’d been when he’d almost gotten himself killed at the Blackthorn mansion. Angry that he asked her for the comfort of a lie like it’d be any kind of balm on the emptiness he had inside. They both knew she was only here because she chose to be, that whatever theatrics or delays, she always answered when he called. “And I sure as hell won’t weep for this living grave of a man. Stop accepting. Find something to fight for.” She shoved him, hard, knowing the mechanical hand would have no give.

[Nox]

He hadn't given up. He was still here. That was proof of it, he was still here. He knew how to end his life, he could think of so many things that he could do to end his life. And there was a spike of anger as she spoke. It was her way. She could still push his buttons even in the void of everything.

Oriena shoved him, her hands pressing hard into his chest and he could have held fast, dragging her with him but he didn't he let go of her throat with the mechanical hand and instead grabbed for the collar of her leather jacket and tugged her inside the room using his momentum just enough to spin around to catch the door with his hand and slam it shut. There was no anger in his voice. No emotion what-so-ever as he pulled Oriena close. "I've not given up. I'm searching for a cure. I get up everyday to take care of those kids. I'm not asking you to make love to me or to be romantic or to change anything we've been doing. I'm not asking you to give me something to live for. All I'm asking is to feel something -- pain, pleasure, release. I want to fucking feel something Oriena without a fucking song in my head."

Nox pulled her against him and kissed her hard. He bit at her bottom lip. He didn't beg, and he'd take what he wanted to a certain degree, but if she said no, or even hesitated he knew this was the end of whatever they had had in the bedroom. He didn't expect it to change much if it ended, but it would change things even though there were no strings of emotions attached. He was never real good with rejection.