nexus_crossings | The Silence of the Storm

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The Silence of the Storm

Rations have been cut. Again. Everyone is on one bowl of watery soup a day. Sometimes with crackers, sometimes not. Most people are too tired and weak to do much more than sit around and talk, and nobody discourages them in the slightest. Work has to be rotated constantly as people weaken quickly, but the fires still need to burn, people still need to guard the cooks and rations, and the sick still need to be tended to. Soon the hardest job is keeping up morale while the big expedition comes back. All the gods and heavens of the multiverse help them if they don’t come back with supplies, and soon.

The boundaries have tightened to an almost suffocatingly small space. It doesn’t take much to imagine where they will be by the end of Winter, which at least makes planning a little easier. People are already relocating to deeper in the Plaza. Unfortunately it means that those who have enough energy to often end up fighting with their neighbours, as the close quarters tests everyone’s patience. There are a few spaces carved out for like minded people to shelter from the dreary situation. Mechanics and those like them have set up a nice little place close to the Crossroads Café, and a break area for those helping the sick is sheltered in a room behind the injured and ill. Zandros moves from groups to individuals, looking for help in creating some form of morale boosting display that will adhere to Isidor's instructions. People are surviving in whatever ways they can, but it's reaching breaking point.

((It's the Final Event Post, everyone! OOC Post is here! This is for those stuck at the hub while the Main Expedition is going on. There will be a second part to this post for the Return of the Expedition. In the meantime, have fun!))

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"Ms Romanoff." By now Isidor's is a familiar voice. Likely one that conjures up the impression that Natasha is about to be given an order. Probably one she won't like: Go and rest.

For now Isidor just makes her way over to the other woman, arms folded close to keep in a shred of warmth. "I'm glad you made it back." In a rare moment of concern, she asks softly, "Are you alright?"

"Ms. Durant."

An acknowledgement but not an acquiescence. Natasha glances back over her shoulder toward the woman leading all of this. Literally now, with Suou running himself into the ground keeping the Crossroads going as their safe house and Kirk stolen away into the Winter by his magus of a husband. She's heard through the volunteer healers that Steve is still bedridden. With Blaze gone now too, Natasha is all Isidor has aside from Lyall when it comes to help.

The weight in her chest squeezes tighter. Blaze will be back. She has to be. That's what a Guardian does.

"I'm fine. Crew's not all back yet, is all." It's not even close to true, her being fine. But her own deserved emotions aren't Isidor's concern. The woman has more than enough piled onto her shoulders.

Once she's standing next to Natasha she looks out into the snow. So unrelentingly blank it's like a slow cruelty. When she turns back to the other woman she does her best to look encouraging without being insensitive.

"They're trickling back," she says softly. "Get some food, get some rest. If we need to go out there and find them, you'll need all your strength."

By now, Ghost would have responded even if he was mad with Natasha. Wouldn't he? Unless he was hiding and Natasha's attempts to call him would be putting him in danger. If Blaze was alright, surely she'd be calling at least and asking Natasha what the hell she thought she was doing. If everything were alright then by now she would have heard something.

Everything is not alright.

"Has anyone heard from Blaze or Ghost?" Breaking her gaze from the snow to look back at Isidor is hard but Natasha has asked harder questions and told worse lies before. "Anything?"

That's specific, but Natasha's not the only one wondering about Blaze. Almost everybody is, the Durant included. Asking directly about the Exo makes her hesitate though.

"No. Not yet," she admits. "But she'll come back. She's strong."

Still she can't quite resist her curiosity. "What happened when you saw her last?"

"She was chasing down what I can only assume was the leader of the Fallen with a flaming fist and a whole lot of murder in her circuits."

Not when Natasha saw her last, but that's the way she needs to remember Blaze if Natasha is ever going to rest. It's not the thought of lying to Isidor that stops Natasha's tongue. She's told worse lies before. Harder ones to hide. What makes Natasha stop is the worry that her plan might have been found out. That Reynard might have taken more than what Natasha offered for his dues.

That all of them yet may still be in danger. If it saves lives here, then Isidor Durant's opinion of her is a small price to pay. Natasha gets to her feet and lowers her voice.

"We need to speak privately."

Of course she was. Probably saving a whole lot of the convoy in the process. Few things are as good a distraction as charging to cut the head off the snake.

Before Isidor can say anything, however, Natasha's quiet urgence catches her attention. It doesn't matter what it might be about: Natasha's asking for a private talk. That's enough to warrant her immediate attention. Isidor doesn't hesitate in nodding and walking to a room she knows is as safe as any can be right now.

She doesn't stop until they are well past all the crowds and prying ears. After inviting Natasha in, she shuts the door firmly, and steps into the room to lean against a table.

"What is it?"

Natasha doesn't know where to begin explaining all of this. Dealing in information is supposed to be her job for crying out loud but her mind won't leave that moment her finger pulled the trigger. It's making focusing difficult. She has to shut it all out and focus, but that's easier said than done right now.

"I discovered some Intel before the Expedition that I didn't speak to anyone about." That's usually never something anyone wants to hear but given the circumstances Natasha knows she would do the same all over again. "It gave me reason to believe that our enemies had eyes and ears in here, so with Kirk being drug off and the chaos that was going on before the Expedition I didn't risk any leaks."

Natasha looks up at Isidor, her arms clutching each other where they're folded across her chest.

"If Reynard didn't get tribute in Blood while we were out there, people were going to die. The whole expedition, which would mean everyone back here. Or possibly an attack directly here on the base. I don't know which. I only knew that I had to stop it from happening."

Natasha knows just how to grab a woman's attention. Learning someone in her closest circle was keeping things from her is precisely the last thing she wants to hear. Not that she can't understand the reasoning, to an extent. She's got her fair share of ruthless standards and healthy paranoia. That doesn't take the sting out of hearing information was kept from her. There's a cold drop in the pit of her stomach as Natasha continues her confession, but she wrestles with one feeling at a time.

"You should have told me," is the first thing out of her mouth. "Keeping it quiet, I understand, but you should have told me."

The second thing she says, after she suppresses her displeasure into a tense jaw, is, "What did you do?"

She shakes her head. It's not so simple as that, not when Natasha had reason to think their base was compromised. That there was even a chance Reynard or one of his agents would overhear the plans Natasha made alone and in secret to keep all of them safe.

It wasn't supposed to turn out like this.

Her radio is a silent accusation in the room. The only one Natasha cares about. Isidor's displeasure she was expecting.

"I took advantage of information he couldn't have and gave him a false tribute."

None of this was supposed to happen like it did. That's part of the reason Isidor hates it all so much. There are no good plans. No whole successes. Only attempts at the best case scenario.

This definitely isn't part of any 'best case scenario'.

Isidor folds her arms to keep her from waving her hands or bundling them into fists. Her eyes burn into Natasha's, fury underlined with anxiety. "Go on."

"Blaze-37 can't die. Not permanently."

Natasha lets a sigh escape her. How could Reynard have found out? She did everything right. Natasha's sure of it. Somehow he still found out. There's no point in worrying about his agents now. He already knows Natasha's gambit and has spoiled it.

"No one in the Nexus knew. The AV field would keep anyone from learning that normally. I only found out recently when she cleared a minefield by walking through it. Her Ghost can regenerate her indefinitely. Even when there's nothing left but ash."

Isidor knows where this is going. Natasha wills her voice not to break. She doesn't deserve the grief she feels over saying this aloud.

"She's also one of Reynard's most vocal critics and foes. So I gave him what he wanted and put a bullet in the back of her head when I was sure Reynard was close by. He'd get what he wanted. And Ghost would bring her back."

Obviously Step Two of that plan doesn't seem to be going according to plan.

"I don't know how he found out. I didn't let any of my intel slip. But he must have. Because she's not back. And I don't think she's coming back."

Isidor's knuckles go white. Blaze. Natasha killed Blaze. The breath held tightly in her chest pours out in a hard, furious gush. Her gaze doesn't waver, but her whole body trembles with the energy of her anger. And her nerves.

The silence stretches on, and when Isidor does finally speak each word bites.

"That wasn't your choice to make."

But if Natasha agreed with her, this wouldn't have happened. So she continues, doing her best to ward off the ice in the pit of her stomach.

"We need her, Natasha. This wasn't something you could afford to gamble. If you had just told me! Told Blaze!" She unfolds her arms, pushing against the table to launch herself closer to Natasha. A flicker of hurt crosses her eyes, but only anger can be heard through her clenched teeth even as she whispers. "All we have is each other. All we can rely on is each other. And now...?"

"...That's where you're wrong."

The choice and its consequences were placed onto Natasha's shoulders, personally. But how does one explain divine intervention from a god you didn't even know existed until she walked up to you in the shadows of a snowstorm and Made herself known? How does Natasha explain she's apparently faithful to this heretofore unknown deity and that that fact terrifies her to her core?

"One of the spirits in this spiritually overcrowded place picked me specifically to make the choice. Leaked Reynard's intentions to me. That was how I knew what was going to happen. Not heresay or whispers. It's also how I found out I'm apparently tied up with a Goddess I didn't even know I was worshiping until this Winter."

If Natasha's own actions disgusted herself, that admission is even harder still to admit to. Her skin crawls with the possibilities because she still knows nothing about the Spirit from the shadows.

"I tried for weeks to find another way out of this. Any other way. But you look me in the face and tell me if your brother's life was on the line you'd trust any other hands but your own and then tell me my math was wrong. Because it was. All of the lives here were at risk."

Edited 2019-04-26 20:56 (UTC)

Of course she'd do whatever it took for her brother, but that's not what happened. She moves swiftly past her hesitation, focusing on the situation in front of her instead of could-have-beens.

"If you'd have talked to me I could have made sure your plan worked," she snaps. "Now... what? Where is she? Do you even know if there's a chance she can still be saved?"

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The Silence of the Storm

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