08-15-2020, 03:01 PM
Natalie was quiet during the journey. She listened to the conversations around her, though little was betrayed in them, nor given the nature of their escort did she much expect it. Scion’s “philanthropy” did not extend to an explanation, and Natalie did not ask. She shunned the complexity of political maneuverings with single-minded obstinacy, cold to the strangers around her in much the manner one might expect of her Northbrook name and the personna attached to it. An easy armour, and not one anyone attempted to breach.
Jay fell into the shell of routine; Natalie recognised its tenets marking the bare motions of survival, and did not disturb the ritual. Sometimes true strength came from a facsimile if the lie was believed long enough. Sometimes pretending alone had to suffice. No one pierced that bubble beyond Jensen. Grief was a disease few wished to touch, and these men were soldiers anyway; and not even ordinary soldiers at that. They were handled with the efficiency of cargo, and processed in much the same way. Fortunately, the only evidence of Natalie’s injury had been discarded the moment she gratefully exchanged her bloodied clothes. Examination passed without comment.
Bad dreams had trailed her since Africa, but were absent on the final flight east. She’d admitted the burden once to Cayli, but to no one else. If she noticed Jensen’s plight like one might catch a glimpse of a mirror’s reflection, she said nothing of it. It wasn’t like she had advice to offer; it wasn’t like she could help. But she saw it. When she slept herself, it was light against Jay’s shoulder. The rest was deep and dreamless, but offered little refresh upon waking.
When the city eventually began to spread beneath them, she watched from the window. Shrugging off the yoke of duty for the temptation of escape had been the distraction of a dream. Despite that, Natalie had not been certain she would return to Moscow. She’d registered herself as her grandfather had bid, and she considered that a duty completed. She had no ambition for power, though it was not an ordinary life she craved either. Marcus had offered her work with the Consulate. Still an option, she supposed. Yet while the Custody expanded borders, the world still on its fringes fell once more to disaster. It wasn’t compassion that pulled her thoughts to the tsunami, but the sort of oblivion she suspected would be better for her soul than the bottom of a bottle. That had been before Mexico, though. For now she did not think of the future.
“You’d better not disappear on me this time.”
It was all she said upon disembarking. A brow rose, though if there was some dryness to her tone her expression was unsmiling. She did not care for formality when it was expected of her. In fact she did not care for expectation at all. She ignored the soldiers as she ignored Scion, and as she might have even ignored Nikolai Brandon himself. Natalie had already presumed this to be the point of divergence, upon which she would be unceremoniously offloaded into her family’s custody. She held Jay in her gaze a long time. He wore his soldier’s mask, and she did not wish to widen the crack of whatever lay beneath. It wasn't how she would have chosen to part, though.
After a time, her gaze slid to Jensen, as though to remind him of the promise he made by the pool. She did not think he would need the nudge, not with the way the burden of worry buckled his shoulders. By then the car had rolled into view, emblazoned with her family’s insignia. Edward Northbrook was unlikely to leave London in order to collect a wayward child. She doubted to see her mother either, though the last they had spoken Eleanor had been in Moscow. Little betrayed the smoothness of her expression beyond the brief pinch of her brow at the figure who actually got out. The blood ran suddenly cool in her veins though. Not fear, but certainly reluctance. She did not enjoy being taken off guard.
“You’re not who I expected.”
Jay fell into the shell of routine; Natalie recognised its tenets marking the bare motions of survival, and did not disturb the ritual. Sometimes true strength came from a facsimile if the lie was believed long enough. Sometimes pretending alone had to suffice. No one pierced that bubble beyond Jensen. Grief was a disease few wished to touch, and these men were soldiers anyway; and not even ordinary soldiers at that. They were handled with the efficiency of cargo, and processed in much the same way. Fortunately, the only evidence of Natalie’s injury had been discarded the moment she gratefully exchanged her bloodied clothes. Examination passed without comment.
Bad dreams had trailed her since Africa, but were absent on the final flight east. She’d admitted the burden once to Cayli, but to no one else. If she noticed Jensen’s plight like one might catch a glimpse of a mirror’s reflection, she said nothing of it. It wasn’t like she had advice to offer; it wasn’t like she could help. But she saw it. When she slept herself, it was light against Jay’s shoulder. The rest was deep and dreamless, but offered little refresh upon waking.
When the city eventually began to spread beneath them, she watched from the window. Shrugging off the yoke of duty for the temptation of escape had been the distraction of a dream. Despite that, Natalie had not been certain she would return to Moscow. She’d registered herself as her grandfather had bid, and she considered that a duty completed. She had no ambition for power, though it was not an ordinary life she craved either. Marcus had offered her work with the Consulate. Still an option, she supposed. Yet while the Custody expanded borders, the world still on its fringes fell once more to disaster. It wasn’t compassion that pulled her thoughts to the tsunami, but the sort of oblivion she suspected would be better for her soul than the bottom of a bottle. That had been before Mexico, though. For now she did not think of the future.
“You’d better not disappear on me this time.”
It was all she said upon disembarking. A brow rose, though if there was some dryness to her tone her expression was unsmiling. She did not care for formality when it was expected of her. In fact she did not care for expectation at all. She ignored the soldiers as she ignored Scion, and as she might have even ignored Nikolai Brandon himself. Natalie had already presumed this to be the point of divergence, upon which she would be unceremoniously offloaded into her family’s custody. She held Jay in her gaze a long time. He wore his soldier’s mask, and she did not wish to widen the crack of whatever lay beneath. It wasn't how she would have chosen to part, though.
After a time, her gaze slid to Jensen, as though to remind him of the promise he made by the pool. She did not think he would need the nudge, not with the way the burden of worry buckled his shoulders. By then the car had rolled into view, emblazoned with her family’s insignia. Edward Northbrook was unlikely to leave London in order to collect a wayward child. She doubted to see her mother either, though the last they had spoken Eleanor had been in Moscow. Little betrayed the smoothness of her expression beyond the brief pinch of her brow at the figure who actually got out. The blood ran suddenly cool in her veins though. Not fear, but certainly reluctance. She did not enjoy being taken off guard.
“You’re not who I expected.”