08-13-2018, 06:46 PM
Jensen spent most of the drive communicating on his phone, and Jay's silence after returning from the Legion was palpable. Divided loyalties, the stranger had warned, like Jay was a creature not to be trusted, both fickle and dangerous. But it was loyalty that'd ripped him apart given half a chance, its claws digging too deep in his chest, demanding too much. Natalie closed her eyes, finding no comfort in the smear of city lights beyond the darkened windows, and tried to steer her mind away from the tangle of politics they had left behind.
Her apartment was an exclusive highrise in the centre of the Moscow, on a floor that offered beautiful views of the city from a glass fronted balcony. Freshly purchased by the Northbrooks, since Eleanor avoided Russia with single-minded diligence, and when her grandfather visited it was usually at Nikolai Brandon's pleasure and expense. She opened the car door before the driver had a chance to, offering a wry smile as she caught a glimpse of his irritated glance in the rear view mirror.
"I'll only be five minutes."
Automated security scanned her passage through the entrance, the foyer's lines all clean and modern. A swift elevator ride followed through the building's spine. Natalie had no purse with her, but needed no keys. She knew something was wrong when the lights did not automatically bloom the moment her ID registered at the threshold. Her gaze sketched the familiar shadows within, skin prickling cool before she planted her palm on the panel just inside the door. The lights responded, but the usual welcome of the AI failed to boot. Someone had been in here.
Her stomach knotted, roiling sick. The pressing darkness of those tunnels was a memory too close, and they'd never found Pavlo. Irrational fear squeezed her insides until the gift rushed in welcome, though she still felt entirely too vulnerable.
Everything inside seemed untouched. The apartment was like something out of a brochure, but it had never been a home and it was not the violation of trespass making her uneasy. Only the ornate piano had the design of personal touch, but even that had not been Natalie's. Her blanket still lay skewed half off the sofa, her wallet balanced on its arm. The suitcases her mother had sent from Aubagne piled against the wall, unpacked. Nothing had changed.
But there was someone here.
Her heart shuddered.
It had been years since she'd seen him properly, longer still since it had been in more than brief snatches of him in court. Her expression stilled as the holo responded to her presence. The intensity of her father's gaze burned just a little off centre, the familiar press of his frown tugging his brow and flattening out his lips. More silver iced the pale strands of his hair than the last time she saw him in the flesh, dusting his neat beard like frost. New lines joined the old. He did not smile.
Alistair had always been better with machines than with people.
"You've been ignoring me, Natalie."
She pressed the door closed softly until it clicked, unsure if there was an interface expecting her response. It looked like a recording, though it didn't mean he wasn't listening. She ought to have felt a measure of relief. There was no danger here, yet the power did not slip from her grip; the enhancement to her senses made him flicker and wisp, dividing the line between what was real. She did not smile either.
"Eleanor thinks proximity to the Ascendancy will offer you protection. It will not. I would rather you stayed away from Moscow entirely, though it seems I am already too late with the advice. I'm not convinced you would listen anyway. Just like your damn mother."
Her mouth opened, a retort hot on her tongue whether or not he could hear her, but the holo didn't pause. The irritation skittered like ice across his gaze, but the direction of that gaze had changed too, like he was focused on something outside the picture.
"You did not come to see me--" the accusation was blunt "--and I can't speak freely here. I will not tell you what to think, but I will tell you to pick your side carefully. Don't allow it to be picked for you, Natalie. Choose friends and allies wisely."
His attention returned forwards, glaring out. The cords of his jaw worked, like perhaps he had more to say, but then the image scrambled and faded. One of the sideboards held the projection device to which the holo vanished. Beneath lay a crisp white envelope.
She took a breath, knowing time was short but needing it anyway. Her heart hammered so fast she thought it was going to swallow her up, and she counted seconds while she folded the emotions carefully away; a wound she thought she'd stitched a long time ago, but it all spilled out bloody. Christ, but she'd hardly been prepared for the ambush.
The resultant anger was a small ball of flame, banked on long tended embers. For five years of silence.
"You left it a little late to care." The words whispered out like a grimace. She pinched the bridge of her nose, raked fingers through her hair, and pulled herself together. Time haemorrhaged every moment she lingered, and she'd already been gone longer than necessary. The buzz of her thoughts flattened, subdued; she slipped into autopilot. There'd be plenty of time to think on the flight.
She would have liked a shower, but settled for distractedly wiping clean her makeup and washing the blood from her foot. She pinned the hair off her neck and folded the dress back in the box laid out on her bed, then changed into the comfort of jeans and an old shirt. She'd been living out of suitcases since she arrived, and she was used to living light; it was only a moment's attention to pack necessities into a bag and grab her passport. Hopefully Brandon had thought to organise visas. The wallet with Marcus's app nestled in a zipped up pocket, missed messages unread, and Azu's pocket bible rested on top of her clothes, the only thing of sentimental value she chose to bring.
She paused before she left, staring down at the device her father's messenger had left. It was palm-size small and resembled a wallet, but not like one she'd ever seen before. Hesitation nipped her heels, uncertain it was wise to bring along when she did not entirely know what it was, but a moment later she shoved it into her jeans' pocket anyway and folded the envelope in with her luggage. Her stomach clenched again as she ran her fingers over the creamy paper, more concerned than curious. Paper meant something he expected her to burn once read. But it would have to wait.
The driver tried to relieve her of the bag when she finally emerged, and though it irritated her to relinquish such an arbitrary task she let him slam it into the trunk if it made him happy. She sank back into the car, quiet.
[[Just fyi, Natalie will ask polite questions about Jensen's home and family while they drive to the airport. General chitchat stuff, nothing intrusive. There's probably not a lot of value rping it all out, but she would certainly try to make him feel less like he shared a car with complete strangers]]
Her apartment was an exclusive highrise in the centre of the Moscow, on a floor that offered beautiful views of the city from a glass fronted balcony. Freshly purchased by the Northbrooks, since Eleanor avoided Russia with single-minded diligence, and when her grandfather visited it was usually at Nikolai Brandon's pleasure and expense. She opened the car door before the driver had a chance to, offering a wry smile as she caught a glimpse of his irritated glance in the rear view mirror.
"I'll only be five minutes."
Automated security scanned her passage through the entrance, the foyer's lines all clean and modern. A swift elevator ride followed through the building's spine. Natalie had no purse with her, but needed no keys. She knew something was wrong when the lights did not automatically bloom the moment her ID registered at the threshold. Her gaze sketched the familiar shadows within, skin prickling cool before she planted her palm on the panel just inside the door. The lights responded, but the usual welcome of the AI failed to boot. Someone had been in here.
Her stomach knotted, roiling sick. The pressing darkness of those tunnels was a memory too close, and they'd never found Pavlo. Irrational fear squeezed her insides until the gift rushed in welcome, though she still felt entirely too vulnerable.
Everything inside seemed untouched. The apartment was like something out of a brochure, but it had never been a home and it was not the violation of trespass making her uneasy. Only the ornate piano had the design of personal touch, but even that had not been Natalie's. Her blanket still lay skewed half off the sofa, her wallet balanced on its arm. The suitcases her mother had sent from Aubagne piled against the wall, unpacked. Nothing had changed.
But there was someone here.
Her heart shuddered.
It had been years since she'd seen him properly, longer still since it had been in more than brief snatches of him in court. Her expression stilled as the holo responded to her presence. The intensity of her father's gaze burned just a little off centre, the familiar press of his frown tugging his brow and flattening out his lips. More silver iced the pale strands of his hair than the last time she saw him in the flesh, dusting his neat beard like frost. New lines joined the old. He did not smile.
Alistair had always been better with machines than with people.
"You've been ignoring me, Natalie."
She pressed the door closed softly until it clicked, unsure if there was an interface expecting her response. It looked like a recording, though it didn't mean he wasn't listening. She ought to have felt a measure of relief. There was no danger here, yet the power did not slip from her grip; the enhancement to her senses made him flicker and wisp, dividing the line between what was real. She did not smile either.
"Eleanor thinks proximity to the Ascendancy will offer you protection. It will not. I would rather you stayed away from Moscow entirely, though it seems I am already too late with the advice. I'm not convinced you would listen anyway. Just like your damn mother."
Her mouth opened, a retort hot on her tongue whether or not he could hear her, but the holo didn't pause. The irritation skittered like ice across his gaze, but the direction of that gaze had changed too, like he was focused on something outside the picture.
"You did not come to see me--" the accusation was blunt "--and I can't speak freely here. I will not tell you what to think, but I will tell you to pick your side carefully. Don't allow it to be picked for you, Natalie. Choose friends and allies wisely."
His attention returned forwards, glaring out. The cords of his jaw worked, like perhaps he had more to say, but then the image scrambled and faded. One of the sideboards held the projection device to which the holo vanished. Beneath lay a crisp white envelope.
She took a breath, knowing time was short but needing it anyway. Her heart hammered so fast she thought it was going to swallow her up, and she counted seconds while she folded the emotions carefully away; a wound she thought she'd stitched a long time ago, but it all spilled out bloody. Christ, but she'd hardly been prepared for the ambush.
The resultant anger was a small ball of flame, banked on long tended embers. For five years of silence.
"You left it a little late to care." The words whispered out like a grimace. She pinched the bridge of her nose, raked fingers through her hair, and pulled herself together. Time haemorrhaged every moment she lingered, and she'd already been gone longer than necessary. The buzz of her thoughts flattened, subdued; she slipped into autopilot. There'd be plenty of time to think on the flight.
She would have liked a shower, but settled for distractedly wiping clean her makeup and washing the blood from her foot. She pinned the hair off her neck and folded the dress back in the box laid out on her bed, then changed into the comfort of jeans and an old shirt. She'd been living out of suitcases since she arrived, and she was used to living light; it was only a moment's attention to pack necessities into a bag and grab her passport. Hopefully Brandon had thought to organise visas. The wallet with Marcus's app nestled in a zipped up pocket, missed messages unread, and Azu's pocket bible rested on top of her clothes, the only thing of sentimental value she chose to bring.
She paused before she left, staring down at the device her father's messenger had left. It was palm-size small and resembled a wallet, but not like one she'd ever seen before. Hesitation nipped her heels, uncertain it was wise to bring along when she did not entirely know what it was, but a moment later she shoved it into her jeans' pocket anyway and folded the envelope in with her luggage. Her stomach clenched again as she ran her fingers over the creamy paper, more concerned than curious. Paper meant something he expected her to burn once read. But it would have to wait.
The driver tried to relieve her of the bag when she finally emerged, and though it irritated her to relinquish such an arbitrary task she let him slam it into the trunk if it made him happy. She sank back into the car, quiet.
[[Just fyi, Natalie will ask polite questions about Jensen's home and family while they drive to the airport. General chitchat stuff, nothing intrusive. There's probably not a lot of value rping it all out, but she would certainly try to make him feel less like he shared a car with complete strangers]]