[ Plants. Pillows. Someone's crashing on her couch, which makes sense, given he's crashing on someone else's right now. Nathan stares a practical fucking hole at her window. Like he gives a shit about plants. ]
Yeah.
[ No. Not really. He sighs, loud and frustrated, and scrubs a hand over his face. ]
Just got a headache.
[ Which is true enough. He looks at her, finally, but his gaze drops quick to her hand. Frowns at that, too, like seeing it in person might help him figure out whether it really is okay. ]
[ The last thing he wants to do. There's some sort of cosmic irony here, that Kyna had told him she wasn't alright and now here he is, trying to figure out how to word what he wants to. He stays there, not near the counter or the door or the walls to her apartment, staring at the ground like it's done him a personal wrong.
Just fucking say something, Lowell. Don't just stand there. Just fucking say something. ]
Ask me again.
[ has this happened to you before? Blue eyes glance upward, fix onto hers. ]
[He has an intensity to him that throws her sometimes, so much so that she has to fight the urge to look away. She bites her lip instead, forcing herself through it.]
[ He keeps looking at her. Carefully, calmly, the way you watch something you want to pay attention to. ]
They don't let you keep your magic in prison. S'where I was, before this.
[ It's part of the truth, not the whole of it. Maybe that's why the words come out easy. Nathan had thought, here and there, that maybe he'd frightened her -- that if she remembered the entire thing, her eyes golden and bowed over him, him forcefully fighting her off -- that maybe it was better to just let things be. Chase up nothing. Let the space extend.
And he still had to check anyway. What a fucking idiot. ]
Losing it doesn't get easier. Never does. [ Gaze drops to the floor. He inhales suddenly, sharply, like he's readying himself for something. ] Things change, or you do. But it still feels like shit, every day. Didn't want to tell you that over—
[ AIM messenger or whatever the fuck. Fucking hates texting. Nathan makes a vague gesture, annoyed, dismissive. ] Doesn't matter. It'll feel different, eventually. You'll feel different. That's what I wanted to say.
He's surprised, a little, that that's what she asks. But he meets it. Nathan exhales that breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and his frown eases up in a way that turns his expression quiet. ]
You find out who you really are. No short-cuts, no spellwork. No distractions.
[Kyna, by contrast, tenses up, shoulders hunching. She has no idea how to describe herself without starting with magic first. She has no idea who she's supposed to be without it. What he's saying sounds both impossible and terrifyingly probable.
She wrestles with it for a moment, struggles to think of a response. No option she can come up with feels fitting, and she crosses her arms almost protectively.]
[ He watches her, for a moment. Looks away from her and to the window instead, to give her— what. Some mental room, maybe. ]
Nothing that surprised me.
[ A failure of a son. A Falconer who managed to convince himself he was ever right for the job. An addict, a liar, a thief. Someone who hurt others for answers. An impulsive fix for an expensive problem, making him chained to the Menagerie. Alone, cast off, destined to watch everyone he'd ever known in his past life die.
Nothing he didn't deserve. Nathan scratches the side of his jaw as he sighs, some of it still tinged with frustration. ]
[It's not much of an answer, but she doesn't pry. It doesn't seem fair to, and anyway, his reassurance makes her stomach twist. Maybe she should just thank him, brush it off, but she has a strong feeling he'll see right through it. She exhales slowly, gaze dropping to the floor.]
Half the time I don't know what to do with myself. I just... I don't feel like me, you know?
[ Ironic, where he is now. How some of what he's saying is churned up from the things his sister used to tell him over the phone, careful and pleading and tired of his bullshit. Hadn't really listened to her much, over the years.
But he remembers more than he thought. Nathan shrugs, but it's not unkind. Everything she's saying outloud, he's felt. Is feeling. ]
[She scoffs at that. You'll figure it out is what everyone has been saying to her. Ian, Ren, Fenris. She was expecting something more helpful from Nathan.]
Why'd you come all the way over here? You could have told me this over the network.
[ Nathan sighs. Loud, frustrated, and hands find his hips as he stares down at his feet. The tone and set of his body language changes by degrees, then all at once.
Truth is, the answer's easy. For him, anyway. 'Cause I fucking hate texting. 'Cause I wanted to talk to you in person. 'Cause I thought you could use a friend, 'cause I thought you were goddamn scared of me before this, 'cause I give a fucking shit about what you think. That's what you're supposed to do, when someone tells you they're not okay. You— make sure they are.
[Kyna's stomach sinks. Her instinct, first and always, is that she's done something wrong, that she's misstepped, but it's worse when Nathan just goes silent. Is he angry? He looks angry.]
[ He hears the tone more than sees it. His head hurts. The easiest thing in the world would be to leave; the second would be to tell her it's not her fault, she hasn't done anything. Like that first time, when he'd said Kyna and left; the second time, when she'd hugged him, both of them still-bleeding.
Nathan sighs again. He scrubs a hand over his face, and meets her eyes. ]
[Still quiet, laced with surprise now. She's really not used to this, to people just... being here for her. Sure, Sam and Nico would have been, but Nico is her brother, and she's always considered Sam an exception. Ian getting so protective when he saw her bandaged hand, Lance being so willing to talk her through her stupid issues, Nathan dragging himself over here just because she said she was upset...
It's a little overwhelming. A little scary. A rush of fondness tempers those emotions, though. Still, there's a part of her that doesn't get why they seem to like her so much.
She swallows, picking at the bandages on her hand absently.]
I didn't think you'd come here for that.
[Wait, that sounds awful.]
I mean, it's— It's nice, I just thought you... I don't know.
[ He doesn't sound as impatient or frustrated with her hesitance as he's been before. Can't be, considering. Some of this feels like balancing on the edge of a knife -- not friendship, exactly, but the last person he'd considered a friend had said goodbye to him at the steps of the Menagerie, full of pity and anger and the knowledge that she could never forgive him. Nothing he didn't deserve. He misses Steph a lot.
So. It's-- rusty, this offer of friendship he's suddenly realizing he's giving. And strange, and new. But he thinks, he understands Kyna. Loss. Being lost. ]
[ To be fair: everything fucking annoys him. Not having magic. Not having caffeine or nicotine and drinking shitty beer. Not having books, missing pages and paper, too scared or cowardly or defeated to even try anything serious where spellwork is concerned. He gives her a Look, briefly, with his brows raised, but it's more self-deprecating than him trying to assert something. ]
Little more serious than that, sometimes. Hits a sore spot he doesn't want to show. Harder, too, to ask a virtual stranger to lay the fuck off. But it's not like she doesn't have a point. ]
Okay.
[ So he will. From now on. Probably. ]
You gonna believe me when I say I don't blame you?
[ He settles in, then. Arms folded now, something about the set of his shoulders relaxes a little. But that doesn't mean his expression doesn't sharpen into something more attentive. ]
No.
[ Nothing that he couldn't... unknit. But keep going, Kyna. He's listening. ]
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Yeah.
[ No. Not really. He sighs, loud and frustrated, and scrubs a hand over his face. ]
Just got a headache.
[ Which is true enough. He looks at her, finally, but his gaze drops quick to her hand. Frowns at that, too, like seeing it in person might help him figure out whether it really is okay. ]
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Do you want to sit down?
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[ The last thing he wants to do. There's some sort of cosmic irony here, that Kyna had told him she wasn't alright and now here he is, trying to figure out how to word what he wants to. He stays there, not near the counter or the door or the walls to her apartment, staring at the ground like it's done him a personal wrong.
Just fucking say something, Lowell. Don't just stand there. Just fucking say something. ]
Ask me again.
[ has this happened to you before? Blue eyes glance upward, fix onto hers. ]
Ask me again, Kyna.
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Did you... Did you lose your magic before this?
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They don't let you keep your magic in prison. S'where I was, before this.
[ It's part of the truth, not the whole of it. Maybe that's why the words come out easy. Nathan had thought, here and there, that maybe he'd frightened her -- that if she remembered the entire thing, her eyes golden and bowed over him, him forcefully fighting her off -- that maybe it was better to just let things be. Chase up nothing. Let the space extend.
And he still had to check anyway. What a fucking idiot. ]
Losing it doesn't get easier. Never does. [ Gaze drops to the floor. He inhales suddenly, sharply, like he's readying himself for something. ] Things change, or you do. But it still feels like shit, every day. Didn't want to tell you that over—
[ AIM messenger or whatever the fuck. Fucking hates texting. Nathan makes a vague gesture, annoyed, dismissive. ] Doesn't matter. It'll feel different, eventually. You'll feel different. That's what I wanted to say.
[ In person, that is. ]
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She doesn't care that he was in jail, really. She's not going to ask why. It's everything else.]
Different how?
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He's surprised, a little, that that's what she asks. But he meets it. Nathan exhales that breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and his frown eases up in a way that turns his expression quiet. ]
You find out who you really are. No short-cuts, no spellwork. No distractions.
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She wrestles with it for a moment, struggles to think of a response. No option she can come up with feels fitting, and she crosses her arms almost protectively.]
...What did you find out?
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Nothing that surprised me.
[ A failure of a son. A Falconer who managed to convince himself he was ever right for the job. An addict, a liar, a thief. Someone who hurt others for answers. An impulsive fix for an expensive problem, making him chained to the Menagerie. Alone, cast off, destined to watch everyone he'd ever known in his past life die.
Nothing he didn't deserve. Nathan scratches the side of his jaw as he sighs, some of it still tinged with frustration. ]
You're not dead weight, Kyna.
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Half the time I don't know what to do with myself. I just... I don't feel like me, you know?
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[ Ironic, where he is now. How some of what he's saying is churned up from the things his sister used to tell him over the phone, careful and pleading and tired of his bullshit. Hadn't really listened to her much, over the years.
But he remembers more than he thought. Nathan shrugs, but it's not unkind. Everything she's saying outloud, he's felt. Is feeling. ]
Hear knitting's a good hobby to take up.
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Why'd you come all the way over here? You could have told me this over the network.
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Truth is, the answer's easy. For him, anyway. 'Cause I fucking hate texting. 'Cause I wanted to talk to you in person. 'Cause I thought you could use a friend, 'cause I thought you were goddamn scared of me before this, 'cause I give a fucking shit about what you think. That's what you're supposed to do, when someone tells you they're not okay. You— make sure they are.
He feels like a damn idiot.
Grits his teeth. Stays silent.
Give him a fucking minute, would you? ]
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Nathan?
[Her voice is softer, hesitant and nervous.]
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Nathan sighs again. He scrubs a hand over his face, and meets her eyes. ]
You said you felt like shit.
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[Still quiet, laced with surprise now. She's really not used to this, to people just... being here for her. Sure, Sam and Nico would have been, but Nico is her brother, and she's always considered Sam an exception. Ian getting so protective when he saw her bandaged hand, Lance being so willing to talk her through her stupid issues, Nathan dragging himself over here just because she said she was upset...
It's a little overwhelming. A little scary. A rush of fondness tempers those emotions, though. Still, there's a part of her that doesn't get why they seem to like her so much.
She swallows, picking at the bandages on her hand absently.]
I didn't think you'd come here for that.
[Wait, that sounds awful.]
I mean, it's— It's nice, I just thought you... I don't know.
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[ He doesn't sound as impatient or frustrated with her hesitance as he's been before. Can't be, considering. Some of this feels like balancing on the edge of a knife -- not friendship, exactly, but the last person he'd considered a friend had said goodbye to him at the steps of the Menagerie, full of pity and anger and the knowledge that she could never forgive him. Nothing he didn't deserve. He misses Steph a lot.
So. It's-- rusty, this offer of friendship he's suddenly realizing he's giving. And strange, and new. But he thinks, he understands Kyna. Loss. Being lost. ]
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I guess... I figured maybe I was annoying you. Or that after the slug...
[He'd been brusque with her like he always is, but it had felt different. Part of that might be down to her own discomfort, but still.]
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I told you. I don't care about that.
[ The stabbing's a non-issue. ]
That it?
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[No.]
How come you just... leave sometimes?
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Is that what this is about? Jesus. Something in his gut twists sharper than getting fucking stabbed. Funny, how it feels a lot like shame. ]
You talk a lot.
[ It's not meant to sting, that observation. Like 99% of people don't talk 'a lot', compared to Nathan. Flatly, ]
Sometimes you ask questions I don't want to answer, Kyna.
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You could just tell me that, you know. Just say you don't want to talk about it or something.
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Little more serious than that, sometimes. Hits a sore spot he doesn't want to show. Harder, too, to ask a virtual stranger to lay the fuck off. But it's not like she doesn't have a point. ]
Okay.
[ So he will. From now on. Probably. ]
You gonna believe me when I say I don't blame you?
[ If they're going to clear things up, now. ]
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[That's honest, at least.]
Have you ever been... you know. Possessed or controlled before?
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No.
[ Nothing that he couldn't... unknit. But keep going, Kyna. He's listening. ]
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