06-03-2018, 07:26 AM
Her eyes closed for a moment's respite. The alcohol that usually made these things bearable instead heightened her discomfort, blurring the lines of attachment; allowing thoughts to seep in when she'd rather forget. Reality merged with the flicker of something insidious. The noise; the lights. Mixing and swirling. Her skin burned the tell-tale sign of rising panic.
Cinq choses que vous pouvez voir.
She'd felt the therapy in Aubagne an unnecessary fuss when Eleanor had insisted; that she only needed time to internalise, grieve, and accept. But time proved her a liar. The things she buried stacked until they spilled over the edges -- on the inside, at least. Whatever internal battle raged, it was encased in cold marble.
Her eyes ghosted; seeking focus. Cinq choses que vous pouvez voir.
Five things you can see, Natalie.
Survivor's scars inside her wrists, faint beneath sheer sleeves; the fluted glass in her hand, fizzing with gold bubbles; the fall of emerald skirts as Jared led Emily into a dance; the gilded edge of a silver tray, swept aloft by a white-gloved palm as a server passed.
And finally, amongst the shifting crowd, a shadow in black to the throat, eyes meeting hers.
A heartbeat swept the rest of the process away. But whatever expression had been about to capture her in that vulnerable moment, it shuttered abruptly into stillness.
She'd had no real reason to expect Jay might be here, though hindsight lit a spotlight on Brandon's own words to her. Shields. Guardians. Of course he'd want to unveil his new weapons to the world, and what better way than framing it as a humanitarian gesture. Evelyn would lap it up, and he could proceed how he wished if it was in the service of peace. It was neatly done.
Jay stole her focus away from those cynicisms; narrowed her vision down to lines and shades of black, to the crook of a smile that snagged something inside.
Though she had demanded to know what had happened to him, she had never asked to see him; not quite sure of her own reaction, or the betrayal in her chest, if the request was granted. It twisted painfully now, like viewing the warmth of home from the outside. There'd been nothing but missed moments in Africa; too little substance to warrant the pull she felt, not least towards a man who had already moved on. She'd just been a job; her rational side had already reconciled with the truth.
But that was before she saw him again, and her traitor's heart lightened at the sight.
Her glimpse was caught in staccato as the other guests ebbed and flowed between them, but he looked well. The smile alone assuaged concerns for his welfare, despite Brandon's tactics for recruitment. The black fit him more comfortably than Legionnaire khaki. She chose not to dwell on what it might mean for him, nor the chain across his chest; the pin those shiny links joined to, too far away to discern. Her pale gaze moved away, a knot in her stomach, though she couldn't entirely say why.
The last time she'd seen him, he'd been cuffed in the back of a police car after admitting to murder; she had every right to keep her distance, and any normal woman would. It wasn't the truth, but as a mask it would suffice. He didn't need to know the lengths she'd gone to to find him; he didn't need to know she'd thought of him at all.
Edited by Natalie Grey, Jun 3 2018, 07:30 AM.
Cinq choses que vous pouvez voir.
She'd felt the therapy in Aubagne an unnecessary fuss when Eleanor had insisted; that she only needed time to internalise, grieve, and accept. But time proved her a liar. The things she buried stacked until they spilled over the edges -- on the inside, at least. Whatever internal battle raged, it was encased in cold marble.
Her eyes ghosted; seeking focus. Cinq choses que vous pouvez voir.
Five things you can see, Natalie.
Survivor's scars inside her wrists, faint beneath sheer sleeves; the fluted glass in her hand, fizzing with gold bubbles; the fall of emerald skirts as Jared led Emily into a dance; the gilded edge of a silver tray, swept aloft by a white-gloved palm as a server passed.
And finally, amongst the shifting crowd, a shadow in black to the throat, eyes meeting hers.
A heartbeat swept the rest of the process away. But whatever expression had been about to capture her in that vulnerable moment, it shuttered abruptly into stillness.
She'd had no real reason to expect Jay might be here, though hindsight lit a spotlight on Brandon's own words to her. Shields. Guardians. Of course he'd want to unveil his new weapons to the world, and what better way than framing it as a humanitarian gesture. Evelyn would lap it up, and he could proceed how he wished if it was in the service of peace. It was neatly done.
Jay stole her focus away from those cynicisms; narrowed her vision down to lines and shades of black, to the crook of a smile that snagged something inside.
Though she had demanded to know what had happened to him, she had never asked to see him; not quite sure of her own reaction, or the betrayal in her chest, if the request was granted. It twisted painfully now, like viewing the warmth of home from the outside. There'd been nothing but missed moments in Africa; too little substance to warrant the pull she felt, not least towards a man who had already moved on. She'd just been a job; her rational side had already reconciled with the truth.
But that was before she saw him again, and her traitor's heart lightened at the sight.
Her glimpse was caught in staccato as the other guests ebbed and flowed between them, but he looked well. The smile alone assuaged concerns for his welfare, despite Brandon's tactics for recruitment. The black fit him more comfortably than Legionnaire khaki. She chose not to dwell on what it might mean for him, nor the chain across his chest; the pin those shiny links joined to, too far away to discern. Her pale gaze moved away, a knot in her stomach, though she couldn't entirely say why.
The last time she'd seen him, he'd been cuffed in the back of a police car after admitting to murder; she had every right to keep her distance, and any normal woman would. It wasn't the truth, but as a mask it would suffice. He didn't need to know the lengths she'd gone to to find him; he didn't need to know she'd thought of him at all.
Edited by Natalie Grey, Jun 3 2018, 07:30 AM.