nexus_crossings | Not all Spring beginnings are nice

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Not all Spring beginnings are nice

It's been some time since the resident rogue made her way to the Plaza to be social, but today seems to be an exception to her recent desire to hide away. In spite of the warm Spring weather, she's dressed in her usual garb sans cloak - linen pants and full-sleeved shirt with embroidery down the outer seams, leather underbust corset, belt full of weapons, and hair pinned up with her unique silver hair pin. No armor today, though, which could well be taken as a sign of progress.

She's quiet for a long while as she paces, debating her words carefully. Her brow furrows and the fingers of her right hand brush through the strands of her hair pin in an obviously nervous manner.

"Spring is a time for new beginnings. A time for casting off the old and welcoming in change." Another pause as she stops in her pacing. "But it's never as easy as all of that. For some, Spring is... hard, a reminder of things now gone rather than a glimmer of hope for what's to come."

A sigh escapes her as she crosses her arms in front of her chest and her gaze settles on nothing in particular in the distance. "Sometimes, you just... need help figuring out what to do. So, the question I pose is this.." She takes a deep breath before focusing more on the crowd in front of her. "How do you cope with loss?"

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Steve's looking much better than he had the last time they saw each other in the Nexus. His old outfit on minus the suit jacket to accommodate for the warmer weather. Amelia's question is one Steve thought about a lot, over the past winter.

He wishes there were an easy answer, but for troubles like this, there never are.

"I keep what I can close to my heart. Remember my home, my friends, my family. I try to live each day so that those people I've been taken from would be proud of me."

Amelia's relief at seeing Steve so full of life again is obvious. He certainly was still a mess when she relented to letting him take care of himself after finding him out on the Plaza. His answer gets a small smile. Always the optimist, isn't he?

"I think they'd be very proud," she assures him. She sure as hell is. He's survived a lot and is doing well in spite of all of his troubles. It's more than many could say about their situations.

Her weight is shifted from one foot to another as she considers how to respond. "I can remember everyone back home, but I'm unsure how to make them proud of me. I haven't exactly done anything here worth note that didn't earn me a lot of scorn." A beat and a small sigh. "Well deserved scorn at that. ...I'm still sorry for, well, you know..."

It really doesn't matter if he tells her to stop apologizing. She's unlikely to ever forgive herself for knocking him off the ladder that day.

Steve doesn't seem to have any lingering upset over the entire affair from the end of the last season. Sometimes people disagree and he knows that's bound to happen. The fact that she stood up for what she believes in....

Sure, he was upset at the time.

But she more than showed him what she was made of afterward when he needed it the most. He knows Amelia is good people, even if they don't always agree in actions.

"Then that just means you have a goal in mind, doesn't it?"

"Ahh..." Of course Steve would figure out that there was something beyond what she'd mentioned. It helps that she's obvious without thinking she is. "Well, yes, but it's a very selfish goal. It's not something that would make my family proud either. They wouldn't understand it and it would probably terrify them that I'm even thinking about it and--"

She cuts herself off suddenly and sighs, reaching her hand back up toward her hair pin again. "Sorry. You're right. Having a goal is important." Not that hers is important to anyone but her, of course.

A beat, and an awkward shift in conversation. "What about you? Do you have something you're working toward?"

"These days? Not so much. The training I had been doing ended up falling through, so I've had a lot of free time on my hands." Steve shakes his head, his expression quite a bit more sober with the topic turned onto him again.

"I guess...I'm trying to find my place here."

"Training?" That piques her interest. She had no idea he was doing any kind of training with someone - a fault of her own, no doubt. "What kind of training?"

Carefully, and with no small amount of worry about doing so, Amelia gently rests a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I'm sure you'll find it. And if you need help? You've got many friends here for you - myself included, if you'll let me."

"Military." Steve says quietly. "Technique. Firearms. Physical."

He'd wanted so badly to be the Steve Rogers everyone knew about. The one everyone expected him to be. He'd have done just about anything to be that person. But it didn't work out. His body just wasn't meant for that kind of training.

"I couldn't handle it, even though I was careful. I'm too weak."

"So find another way to fight."

That's the thing about not being from a version of Earth - Amelia doesn't expect Steve to be anyone but who he's shown himself to be. Steve is a strong, stubborn man in a weak body, but Amelia expects him to not give up without giving it his all. He's got a fire in him that no one else can match and he doesn't back down from a challenge. It's endearing to her, even if it bothers others. She sees his strengths before his weaknesses, because that's what actually matters.

"I'm not talking about being a commander or a strategist, either. If you want to be on the front lines, then there's a way to do it, because you want there to be one." One corner of her lips tugs upward in a smirk. "The Nexus is full of opportunities and I'm certain the one for you is out there - if you're willing to look for it."

What? A little taunting won't hurt if it gets him to stop wallowing ...right?

Oh look, it's her favourite person. He's sitting on a park bench, tail taking up the seat next to him, thumbing through a book who's leatherbound cover is a mess of arcane symbols. One leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping idly in the air.

"Don't get attached in the first place is usually a good plan." He answers without even looking up from his reading, instead turning a page. "Find a replacement if you can. Be quick about adapting if you can't." For someone who has a pretty good idea of what Amelia is missing, Naugus is really lax on the gloating. Maybe he's just tired or that wrapped up in what this book has to say.

Whatever gods the people in the Nexus believe in must be having a good laugh about the irony of this meeting.

Amelia scowls at Naugus, taking note of the symbols on the cover of his book with muted interest. Not that he could guess she was interested over the amount of disgust she throws in his direction. And he knows exactly why she's upset ...well, mostly, anyway.

"There's not always an option of preventing yourself from getting attached," she points out. "Unless you're suggesting that it's possible to nullify bonds that are forged before you're old enough to understand them."

She won't comment on the remainder of his statements, because they're the parts she's having trouble with. Adapting and moving on are much harder when starting from scratch.

If she hangs around Felix, Stratos or Vanyel at all, Amelia might be able recognize the book's symbols as Daedric alphabet. Look like someone's learning about magic and worlds beyond the Nexus.

"You can retain your fondness and your ties. But you'll just break down if you do nothing but compare your situation to what it used to be. Your old surroundings to your new one. The void and your loss can't be what defines you. If it must, let it motivate you towards greatness and ambition. Not get mired in mourning and woe-is-me. No one likes a mope."

Another turned page.

The symbols are vaguely familiar, but she doesn't know them for what they are. She hasn't gotten around to reading about belief systems from other worlds yet nor has she read up on magic from Tamriel. Someday, maybe, but she'd like to get the basic principles of magic down first, hence all her research on elemental magic as of late.

"That..." Is surprisingly good advice, even if he ruins it at the end. She's still so attached to her world, holding her breath every day as she walks the streets of the Nexus and prays no one else is able to find their way here. The portal should be closed for good - courtesy of Naugus' former rival - but she has no way of knowing for sure and she's not ready to ask for help to check that. Not yet.

Her face falls as she realizes what needs to be said next, though. "...you're right."

He looks up immediately, ears straight up. "You-...? Oh, yes! Of course I'm right!" He knew that, but hearing the affirmation from the young lady has completely caught him off guard. Agreement? Just like that? Vale's bones.

"I'm speaking from experience, of course. No one's a stranger to profound loss."

Don't make this an awkward moment by ruining it, Naugus, or that eye roll she's managing not to throw at you will become a very visible one.

"There aren't many here who know loss on the scale that someone like you or I do." A beat and a thoughtful frown. "Though perhaps I'm more lucky as I found a way to settle my affairs before I had to let go for good."

She's not gloating or trying to goad him. She honestly looks relieved, if not a little more somber, about having been able to get back home.

"You say that as though you know the particulars of my own situation." He's not doubting, exactly, nor accusing. Just wondering if she's heard and how. Did he mention it once? He can't recall now. He says a lot of things when he's either bragging or caught up in grandstanding. You really expect him to keep track of ALL of it?

"I don't. I know only that you're trapped here, too." Gleaning that much from their mutual acquaintances over the last few months was easy enough. His rival's obvious put down of the mage over his inability to get himself home while she was around also gave it away.

She hesitates for a moment before offering him the barest hint of a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry. I know how hard that is."

"Trapped is a mild way to put it," he grunts, looking back down at his book and feigning as if he's just gone back to reading it. Turns out it's hard to concentrate on reading the actual content.

"...You're being remarkably contrite." Okay, he puts it back down, leaning forward in his seat and giving Amelia a scrutinizing squint. "Do you want something from me?"

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