04-20-2017, 08:50 AM
Negotiating her passage from France to Moscow without Eleanor's interference had been easier than anticipated, but came with unexpected strings. While Natalie had been in Africa the world had turned on its axis. And the Northbrooks turned with it.
The nostalgic holiday retreat of Aubagne became a carefully executed ambush, cushioned by her family's relief at her safe return. Duty quickly caged its walls, for a while shadowing the urgency with which she had planned to leave. They sat her down. Her mother had arranged the paperwork. The discussion was only a formality.
It transpired that the Ascendancy had revealed himself.
Natalie accepted that news quietly, mind skirting carefully around the invitation burning a hole in her heart.Of the scandal that had blown her family apart. Of paper fizzling to ash in her hands. The responsibilities attached to her ancestral name tightened a noose she had always been adamant to avoid. She sensed the shift of her family's intentions before the words came clear. It will affirm our loyalties to the CCD. To Brandon. This is not a secret we can keep, her grandfather had said. She never asked how they knew. That was more or less clear; they had tied affairs with Aaron up so neatly. And the fire. Perhaps they knew more of her father's interests than they ever admitted.
Natalie said little. Had they expected a war? They didn't get it, only tight lipped acceptance of what they asked of her. She wouldn't talk about it. Skimmed the gazes of those around her. The light was far off, imprisoned from her, but it had never made her feel more distant. She couldn't stop them adding her name to the register, and she couldn't countenance the lies it would take to build a defence. The trap closed neatly. With no other recourse, she let it.
Eleanor insisted she could spend some time in Aubagne first to recuperate. She was thin. Pale. Heartsick from the things she must have seen in Africa. But the comforts of their holiday home only made Natalie restless. The sea mocked her. The pale sands where they had run and laughed as children. And she had an appointment to keep in Moscow, one she could not and would not discuss with her mother. Alistair's name was a profanity that would only poison her mother's goodwill, and that she needed to retain for a while longer. She had imagined to sneak away, but as it was the only difficulty was fending off Eleanor's insistence of an escort. For that small freedom, she fought.
And so she was in Moscow, as planned. Numb. Sparks of anger igniting and dying as she contemplated her father's silence being broken after so long, and what it meant. If anything. Her gift no longer secret, but still useless to her. Her responsibilities abandoned in Sierra Leone to pursue her own selfishness. Her freedom hanging in a new balance. Outside the windows, shadows hugged the flash of neon marking Moscow's busy streets. She could see the Ascendancy's Arch.
She should sleep off the travel, but knew she wouldn't. Tired though she was, her mind hummed with too much thought to shut out. Recklessness swept her out into the night. Old habits died hard, after all. Any bar would do. A breath of freedom. A night to forget.
The nostalgic holiday retreat of Aubagne became a carefully executed ambush, cushioned by her family's relief at her safe return. Duty quickly caged its walls, for a while shadowing the urgency with which she had planned to leave. They sat her down. Her mother had arranged the paperwork. The discussion was only a formality.
It transpired that the Ascendancy had revealed himself.
Natalie accepted that news quietly, mind skirting carefully around the invitation burning a hole in her heart.Of the scandal that had blown her family apart. Of paper fizzling to ash in her hands. The responsibilities attached to her ancestral name tightened a noose she had always been adamant to avoid. She sensed the shift of her family's intentions before the words came clear. It will affirm our loyalties to the CCD. To Brandon. This is not a secret we can keep, her grandfather had said. She never asked how they knew. That was more or less clear; they had tied affairs with Aaron up so neatly. And the fire. Perhaps they knew more of her father's interests than they ever admitted.
Natalie said little. Had they expected a war? They didn't get it, only tight lipped acceptance of what they asked of her. She wouldn't talk about it. Skimmed the gazes of those around her. The light was far off, imprisoned from her, but it had never made her feel more distant. She couldn't stop them adding her name to the register, and she couldn't countenance the lies it would take to build a defence. The trap closed neatly. With no other recourse, she let it.
Eleanor insisted she could spend some time in Aubagne first to recuperate. She was thin. Pale. Heartsick from the things she must have seen in Africa. But the comforts of their holiday home only made Natalie restless. The sea mocked her. The pale sands where they had run and laughed as children. And she had an appointment to keep in Moscow, one she could not and would not discuss with her mother. Alistair's name was a profanity that would only poison her mother's goodwill, and that she needed to retain for a while longer. She had imagined to sneak away, but as it was the only difficulty was fending off Eleanor's insistence of an escort. For that small freedom, she fought.
And so she was in Moscow, as planned. Numb. Sparks of anger igniting and dying as she contemplated her father's silence being broken after so long, and what it meant. If anything. Her gift no longer secret, but still useless to her. Her responsibilities abandoned in Sierra Leone to pursue her own selfishness. Her freedom hanging in a new balance. Outside the windows, shadows hugged the flash of neon marking Moscow's busy streets. She could see the Ascendancy's Arch.
She should sleep off the travel, but knew she wouldn't. Tired though she was, her mind hummed with too much thought to shut out. Recklessness swept her out into the night. Old habits died hard, after all. Any bar would do. A breath of freedom. A night to forget.