01-24-2020, 09:15 PM
“At the shelter chores were supposed to build character.” A grimace pulled her lips, but her attention did not lift from the coils of light. She did not elaborate on the declaration, nor the quiet stir of memories. The power flowed more easily than she remembered, shifting into an intricate web of pale threads. Stubbornness fueled her now as much as curiosity towards the unknown. She needed to harness this; it was one of the few advantages they had remaining. One of the few ways she could still mask a sense of control.
It took time, but she was content to devote it. When the clothes were clean she changed in the bathroom, pulling her hair into a loose knot at the back of her head and avoiding the ghost of her reflection. She couldn’t idle. At least not while sober.
She returned with the promised breakfast, still warm in a polystyrene carton and presently perched on the desk alongside a coffee and a bottle of water. She’d eaten her own in the diner while she attempted to mentally sort through their remaining options and resources. The pancakes were good. Their options were not.
She leaned against the wall beside the offering, arms folded. The quiet severity of her expression may as well have been carved from marble as he painted in broad strokes the bleakness of their situation. Her disregard of Brandon’s promise, and the ramifications she tried hard not to dwell on. She barely blinked at the sacrifice of her following Jay here, or the oaths he bent by not returning to the Custody with due haste. Natalie made tough choices, but she did not do so in vain. It wasn’t a soft heart leading her into the shadowed paths he left in his wake.
“We’ve had worse odds, Jay,” she said. And lost. She didn’t flinch from it. The light alone knew she’d had plenty of time to think this all through. Yet she was still here. Her gaze pierced, but for now she ignored the question. “And afterwards?”
She couldn’t stop him shovelling a grave in pursuit of retribution; she understood the need. And she would help, despite the flames licking their heels, and despite the beckoning arms of damnation for such sins. Her shoulders were wide enough for the burden, whatever its cost. But she would not help him bury himself.
It took time, but she was content to devote it. When the clothes were clean she changed in the bathroom, pulling her hair into a loose knot at the back of her head and avoiding the ghost of her reflection. She couldn’t idle. At least not while sober.
She returned with the promised breakfast, still warm in a polystyrene carton and presently perched on the desk alongside a coffee and a bottle of water. She’d eaten her own in the diner while she attempted to mentally sort through their remaining options and resources. The pancakes were good. Their options were not.
She leaned against the wall beside the offering, arms folded. The quiet severity of her expression may as well have been carved from marble as he painted in broad strokes the bleakness of their situation. Her disregard of Brandon’s promise, and the ramifications she tried hard not to dwell on. She barely blinked at the sacrifice of her following Jay here, or the oaths he bent by not returning to the Custody with due haste. Natalie made tough choices, but she did not do so in vain. It wasn’t a soft heart leading her into the shadowed paths he left in his wake.
“We’ve had worse odds, Jay,” she said. And lost. She didn’t flinch from it. The light alone knew she’d had plenty of time to think this all through. Yet she was still here. Her gaze pierced, but for now she ignored the question. “And afterwards?”
She couldn’t stop him shovelling a grave in pursuit of retribution; she understood the need. And she would help, despite the flames licking their heels, and despite the beckoning arms of damnation for such sins. Her shoulders were wide enough for the burden, whatever its cost. But she would not help him bury himself.