01-01-2018, 01:46 PM
The club looked dire in the light. Natalie's bare toes scrunched with the thought of what might coat underfoot as they left the depths of the tunnels behind. Jay pulled her onwards like he led Eurydice from the Underworld, rules be damned. She'd faced danger before, but it was the first time she had ever stared down the darkness and truly feared it might claim her. The shock faded now, doused beneath the ice of her composure; she tunnel visioned towards this whole sorry adventure becoming memory. Skimmed over the horror. Okay, maybe she was a little dazed.
Silence reigned after they surfaced; enough to make Natalie wonder what the three had seen in the tunnels. She'd heard the gunfire and the screaming before they had descended on her flight from Alistair, and she'd seen at least one of the creatures the man had been keeping down there. Stiff drinks were pilfered from the bar. She palmed the shot but didn't drink; the thought made her stomach roil, and reminded her just how badly her head pounded.
She must look a mess for Jared to offer healing. Blood rusted her wrists and hands, but the cuts were superficial. "I'm okay. Thank you."
Formality met formality. She appreciated the kindness, but it was unnecessary considering whose stupidity resulted in her injuries; she wouldn't mock his gift by accepting it so lightly. Her pale gaze kept returning to Jay, pinched with a concern she didn't give voice to; convinced he'd only shrug it off. The voicemail, what she could remember of it, buzzed in the back of her mind.
"So what happened to you?"
She turned to Alvis, what little sentiment had been in her expression wiping clean. She considered what to say. What he might tell her father. Whether it truly mattered anyway. "I went to make a call. Someone followed me. I woke up strapped down, with that man."
Already the words divorced themselves from her, like she spoke the words of a story. But there was something too careful about it, too emotionless. She danced around the memory; the blind panic of waking restrained. "Does the name Alistair Pavlo mean anything to anyone?"
Silence reigned after they surfaced; enough to make Natalie wonder what the three had seen in the tunnels. She'd heard the gunfire and the screaming before they had descended on her flight from Alistair, and she'd seen at least one of the creatures the man had been keeping down there. Stiff drinks were pilfered from the bar. She palmed the shot but didn't drink; the thought made her stomach roil, and reminded her just how badly her head pounded.
She must look a mess for Jared to offer healing. Blood rusted her wrists and hands, but the cuts were superficial. "I'm okay. Thank you."
Formality met formality. She appreciated the kindness, but it was unnecessary considering whose stupidity resulted in her injuries; she wouldn't mock his gift by accepting it so lightly. Her pale gaze kept returning to Jay, pinched with a concern she didn't give voice to; convinced he'd only shrug it off. The voicemail, what she could remember of it, buzzed in the back of her mind.
"So what happened to you?"
She turned to Alvis, what little sentiment had been in her expression wiping clean. She considered what to say. What he might tell her father. Whether it truly mattered anyway. "I went to make a call. Someone followed me. I woke up strapped down, with that man."
Already the words divorced themselves from her, like she spoke the words of a story. But there was something too careful about it, too emotionless. She danced around the memory; the blind panic of waking restrained. "Does the name Alistair Pavlo mean anything to anyone?"