Storytelling

Who: Nate and Ari
Where: Nate's room
When: Before dawn

Arienne had had quite the interesting evening, even if it was spent in a single location in the heart of enemy territory as she waited for Nathaniel to return to her. She'd looked around his room, noted how it was set up, figured out where the best places to hide would be should something unforeseen happen. She glanced around to see if there was an easier way for her to gain access to the room should she venture by a second time.

She also spent the majority of her time reading his journal. That was what he'd told her about with the hiding place, she'd found his journal inside, and had been reading it as quickly as she could while she had the time. Certain entries she poured over longer. The initial ones were less exciting, more just bullet points on things he'd done, advances he'd made. But then she appeared. And she found that she quite liked what he had to say about her. It was a mirror to her own feelings towards him. A confirmation that they were on the same page even if she already knew it. It was still fascinating to see his writing on events, like the night death rained down from the sky in the form of pipes--a night she'd never forget. And that was so wrapped up in him, the memory of the blood, the feel of him brushing his thumb through it on her chest. He'd called her beautiful, with the specific context of being splashed with the blood of her mother.

She learned from his journal that she'd changed his life just as much as he had hers. She'd had her plans, of course, but with him...it was like an entire universe had opened up, and she meant for them to seize every opportunity. And she had that unnameable feeling of confidence in him as well. Faith, for lack of a better description. All in all, she was fascinated with the entire read, and pleased part of it was in Italian. After that? It inspired her to work on something of her own, and she used a blank page in the back of his journal to sketch out small designs, simple but with a stylized boldness she specifically meant for him. She was lying on her stomach on his bed, shoes kicked off on the floor, hair tumbling down her shoulders as she worked by the bright moon light that streamed through the windows. She paused momentarily as she heard some noises in the house, and she let her eyes fall on the door, waiting.

It was well into the night by the time they returned, but Nate was as awake as if he'd just had a good eight hours, the adrenalin still coursing through his body from the night's events. He'd watched as the others had come down from it, after they'd returned to the house, during the meeting to deconstruct, run by a Iakov who was trying not to look too pale from the gunshot wound in his shoulder. It wasn't bad - the man was still standing, but Nate had watched it happen. The man had been too slow to move out of the way. And, possibly, Nate hadn't shouted out to warn him as he could have done. He did shout - only a second or two late. Nothing that anyone could reasonably blame him for. Or unreasonably blame him for either. But, the man was injured. The night had been a success - at least, in Nate's book, for all the rest of the group couldn't understand where Don DiGiovanni had been - and he had someone waiting for him in his room upstairs.

That last point had been enough to keep the adrenaline pumping as the rest crashed. But, he waited. He stayed downstairs through the talks of what had happened. Waited until the messenger came to explain that Don DiGiovanni had been found, his attention taken by a girl too young and pretty to refuse and a craps game with odds in his favour. He waited until he wasn't the first to leave, and only then did he slip out and upstairs, giving the nod that he wasn't to be disturbed unless it was important. And his man was good enough to know what was important, which included not letting it be known that he was Nate's man now, rather than Iakov's.

Nate headed to his room and paused as he softly opened the door, giving her time to do whatever she saw fit, ensuring in the stillness that there was nobody else close by as he slipped into his own room, locking the door behind him.

She'd been watching, taking the chance that he was alone and wouldn't be seen. She wanted him to have the mental imagery of her there, on his bed, with his journal, the moon bathing her in high contrasted light and shadows. She thought he may appreciate it. Like he'd appreciated the gift she'd given him, the necklace that still had the crusted blood on it. She smiled when she saw him, even if she couldn't see him well she knew it was him just from his outline, and her eyes were well adjusted enough that it only took seconds to find the low highlights on his features. "Welcome home." she murmured, a smile on her lips.

He stopped and a smile crept across her features as he took her in. It wasn't just that she was striking - though she undoubtedly was, laid out there like that - but that she was fearless. That she wasn't hiding in the shadows. That appealed to him, for all he didn't even mention it. Like so much between them, to put it into words would taint it somehow. And so, he turned his attention to the other words on display. "You managed the vase then, I see," he said, his eyes dropping to his journal.

"I did." she said with a nod. "Fascinating reading." she told him, being purely honest there, even if there was a lilt to her tone that suggested she found it more than fascinating. There were a whole host of emotions that laced through that. "And I was quite careful with the vase, even if it was stubborn." it was still intact. She looked him over, just then putting the journal aside, and she pushed herself up onto her knees, crawling a little closer, though not so close that he wouldn't have to reach for her if he wanted to make contact. "You look unscathed." she noted. "Did you have a good time?" she asked, as if he'd gone out drinking or to see a film or something. Like he did anything in the world that wasn't staging an assault on her very home to likely kill off fringe family members.

He was unscratched - there wasn't a mark on him. To date it seemed like the only one who had managed to come through everything with little more than the odd bruise, and it wasn't doing his confidence in himself any harm at all. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair as he took that step to close the gap between them, though didn't go as far as to touch her yet. Not quite. "I had a fabulous time," he told her, with as much honesty and as many emotions in his tone as in hers.

She gave a brighter smile, demurely clasping her hands behind her back, eyes on him as she kept that bare distance as well. "I want to know the entire story, of course." she told him. "Every little detail. How you felt, how many died, what state you left my home in...and if you managed to find the time to raid my room." She desperately wanted to know if he'd found the photographs she'd given him hints to find. She had every confidence that he would have been able to work it out easily.

He smiled again as he reached into his trouser pocket with one hand, bringing his fist up and opening it, so that the small platinum ring sat in the middle on his palm between them. He'd chosen it deliberately from the various items of jewellery he found. Different - it was simple, a band decorated with a pattern of fern leaves - but not unique. Expensive, but not showy. It couldn't connect him with her in the legal sense, in the way that could identify him and lead to retribution, but there had been enough people with him to ensure that people knew the trophy he intended to wear.

He paused for a moment and then, with his other hand, reached under the back of his shirt and pulled out the envelope he'd found in the place she'd told him to look. That too he held out to her, having only been able to give it the most cursory of glances. "Where would you like to start?" he asked her, the third point being held out to her being the story itself, a gift with no physical presence to pay for the ones she'd given to him, even if he'd had to go and take them. In Nate's head, that just made them all the more valuable to him.

Arienne was clearly pleased. She looked delighted at the ring, thinking he had very much chosen wisely. It held all the markers of what she'd said earlier, and she imagined it would serve him well in his circle of comrades. It would be something he could show proudly, but wouldn't be something that would cause trouble later. Something she could be happy to see around, knowing it was hers and he had it. That he'd taken it, invading her space when she wasn't present to supervise. With the envelope, her smile turned more wicked, with other things laced beneath. "Now you have two pieces of my jewelry." she noted. The ring and the necklace. She quite enjoyed that.

"Tell me what happened. Start wherever you wish, but I demand details. I want to know how it all felt." she told him, laying out the parameters. The trouble was she knew it was something she was more than likely never going to experience herself. Nathaniel was in a position where he got to rush into a battle, and she never would be. If she played her cards right she'd have people to do that for her. Like her brother. But that didn't mean she wasn't drawn in by it. That he didn't want to hang on every word he uttered about the experience itself. That personalized view she craved. No one else mattered, she didn't give a damn about her cousins or other extended family that possibly went down tonight. She didn't care about anyone he'd gone in with. She wanted to know how it was for him.

“Iakov got shot,” Nate told her, his eyes lighting for a moment. Of all the story - well, she said she didn’t mind where he started, and that was the most important part for him. Even with the blood, that stood out.

Ari arched a brow, blinking. "Shot, not killed." she noted. He would have been specific there. "How badly off is he?" she asked, drifting back a little, wanting to see if he'd come with her onto the bed to keep close, even if there was no suggestion there'd be much in the way of physical contact. She liked that, though, the close proximity without actual contact. Or, the lack of it until the time was right.

“Well, put it this way - he still held the meeting downstairs when we came in. Looked clammy though, spoke through the pain. Down, but not out of action,” Nate told her. “He was trying to save face - he should never have been shot in the first place. But he’s getting old, slow.” he smiled, showing a hint of teeth. “And possibly people don’t have his back as much as they once did. He could have been better warned.”

She smiled back at him, seeing that glint of viciousness there. "A shame, that." she noted, propping herself up with her arms behind herself, tilted so she could look up at him easily. She could have added more, asked how the casualties went on both sides, but this was his story--she didn't want to trod on it. She wanted him to choose what he was going to tell her, when he was going to tell her.

“But I’m sure that you’ll be glad to know that I’m certain that your room will escape the fire,” he added, still standing at the end of his bed, for now not joining her.

"It does have most of my things in it." She agreed, not surprised at all that there would be a fire. And really, if it had served Nathaniel's purposes, even if it had lost her everything she would have used it in one way or another to her advantage. "Will we need to rebuild the main house?" she asked. "Did you start the fire yourself?"

“Not myself,” he told her, shaking his head slowly before refastening his gaze onto her. “I had other things in mind. But I may have pushed in the right direction. It was started in your father’s study,” he added. It had occurred to him that there could have been useful papers in there, but in the end, he’d decided it didn’t matter - there would have been no way they could have gotten anything out given their timescale. Fire was the quickest method for destruction. “From what I saw as we left, well, the north west corner of your house is definitely gone.” He shrugged, unconcerned. “There was someone trapped on the top floor,” he told her. “I don’t know who - a man, from the sound of his voice.”

"My father's begun having a full house nearly every night, with extended family in the least, members of other families, the help." Arienne said, also undisturbed by the idea that some went up in the fire. "Tragic, of course. I'm certain I'll be called upon to bury more relatives. Remind me to bring up student council at some point--but I don't wish to discuss it just now. What else happened? When you went to my room were you alone?" she asked.

“Not entirely,” he told her, a hint of disappointment gracing his tone for a moment, then vanishing. “Korgorov was with me. The guy at the door before,” he explained. “He laughed when he realised that we’d ‘accidentally’ found the room of someone I was in school with.”

She gave him a pout, though it was playful in nature. "Pity." she said, noting the name of the guy, at any rate. "What did he say when you wanted to look around?" she asked. "Did he have anything beyond a laugh to input to the situation?"

“Oh, he had all sorts of suggestions,” Nate told her, his face turning expressive and suggestive of the types of things that the man would have put forth for dealing with a girl’s bedroom, to cause the right kind of damage, given that she was absent. “He wasn’t surprised at my wanting to looking round - really, he managed to think it was his own idea.”

"Perfect." she said. It was always a good idea to make people think things were their idea. It meant you were no longer suspect of anything untoward. "Did he do anything in there? Take anything for himself or leave anything behind to psychologically damage my delicate sensibilities?"

“You might want to wash your bedding when you get back,” he advised her. “I judged it best to let him do his thing - it served my purposes for him to be... distracted... for a while.” He’d been able to find what she’d given him directions to without being noticed, that way, after all.

Arienne rolled her eyes, even if she wasn't surprised. "Noted. Should I watch my back should I ever see him in my vicinity?" Then shifted her attention back to him, to what she deemed important, not what she would find on her bed. "And what did you do with your time while he was otherwise occupied?" she asked, even if she could guess for herself.

Nate shook his head. “Unneeded - he won’t do anything without orders. Or, at least, approval,” he assured her. “Independent thinking is not greatly appreciated in certain ranks. One needs to have an eye to the bigger picture, after all.” He finally moved, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed, placing the envelope between them, the ring back in his pocket for now. “I went exploring,” he explained, though they both knew explanation was not strictly necessary.

It did occur to her that she'd be quite the prize for someone to haul in. Hell, she'd be a prize for Nathaniel to bring forth. He wouldn't, though. Not unless it was what they planned. "And in that exploration, I see you found your gift." she said. "Did you like it? Have you gotten to look it over very well?" She imagined in the midst of everything he wouldn't have been able to spare the time to really appreciate them.

Nate glanced down at the envelope, then looked back at her. “No - no more than a glance.” After all, he’d not been alone, and he didn’t want to risk awkward questions. So he’d looked enough to see photographs, then the entire package had been stuffed into the small of his back and left there until the moment he’d brought it out for her.

She smiled at him, reaching out to lightly touch the edge of the envelope. "I requested them specially for you." she told him. "I wasn't sure when I was going to give them to you, I thought tonight seemed a good time. Are you going to look now?" she asked. He could do that, or finish more of his tale, that was up to him. Ari was eager for both. If there were more details to give her on the raid, she wanted them, if he wanted to look over the photographs, she wanted that, to see him understanding it all.

He considered that for a moment, and then shifted, moving along the bed to prop himself up on the pillows. “Why don’t you take me through them,” he suggested to her, knowing that he wanted to see them. Having a good idea of what they were, but because of that, wanting to experience them with her. That would add that extra dimension to the whole thing.

She took the pictures up then moved towards him, a sort of low crawl until she sat up by his side, indian style. She wasn't leaning against him, just near enough that she could feel the warmth of him against her knees. Taking up the envelope, she looked through them, and chose one to take out, holding it out to him. It was her hands on some expanse of skin, too closely shot to tell much of where it might be located on the person. A design was drawn there, and in one hand she held a scalpel. "There's an anticipation that builds, knowing what's to come."

He knew the pure truth of that. He felt it every day. Between them, and with everything now. The anticipation of the future, the knowledge that it was a sin to rush into things, despite his general nature. That feeling that he was holding himself back, like a coiling spring. And when they were released, they would go further and faster because of it - the ride would be all the sweeter. “Was it your first time?” he asked her.

She nodded, a single incline of her head. "Yes." she verbally confirmed as well, more to convey her tone. It was dark but sensual, soft even if she was talking about something that involved carving into a man's flesh. On purpose. "It was his as well." she added, so he would have that to keep in mind, to add to the mental narrative he had. She looked through and brought out the second picture in the progression of things, one that was caught mid slice. There was a clear, clean fissure in the skin. She gazed at it with what could only be described as a deep sort of longing, before she turned it around to give to him.

“And one day you’re going to do this to me,” Nate said - after all, there was really nothing to be gained from hiding from that fact. He knew they both wanted it. And tonight - tonight the thought was in the forefront of his mind, and not just because of the pictures. Tonight he felt exhilarated. Every time he came through events, and came through them well, on top, without a scratch, he felt more and more invincible. And wanted more and more the next step to prove that invincibility.

"One day I will do this to you." She confirmed. "The only real question is when." Taking the next picture, where the blood had started to fill the slice, she handed that to him next. "I was thinking about the chronology." she said. "That marking of time in a manner that's other than a calendar. Marking of events."

Nate looked at her, thoughtfully, his eyes slightly narrowed with interest. “Go on,” he pushed, gently, wanting to hear where she was going with that, what she was thinking, not wanting to interrupt her with assumptions and suppositions which may or may not be correct.

"I was thinking about smaller markings. Just enough, and something in our own sort of private language." she said. "I have something specific in mind for myself." she added. "Something I would require you for. And for you...I had the idea of a cut." Glancing around, she took up his journal from where she'd set it, and she flipped through to the page she'd been drawing on. Small symbols, nothing that clearly meant anything at all to the outside view, but something they could manage themselves. Turning the book towards him, she sat back so he could observe.

“You drew in my journal,” Nate observed, his tone even, almost emotionless, unreadable. The sense that that could have been a very bad idea, for the wrong person, but that he was withholding what would have been his natural reaction to an invasion of that sort. After all, he had told her where to find the thing. She’d drawn on a page towards the back, away from where he’d been chronicling matters of late, though not right at the very end. He wondered where their lives would be by the time he reached that point, how her sketches would fit in with his words. It was only after he’d given himself a moment to contemplate that that he actually turned his mind towards the designs themselves. “Their meaning?” he asked, figuring that they weren’t just random scribbles - especially not since she was talking of a language.

"Markers. Something that only means something to you and I." she explained. "And small enough to be well hidden." she added, because that was important to the both of them at this time. Eventually, she knew she'd be less discerning with that, but it would be well after she was established, well after she knew no one could say anything to her about anything and get away with it. "If you would prefer not to mark the occasion, I understand." she added. "However, I had been contemplating it, and thought it would be something we might both enjoy, for significant events."

“And would these form part of a larger design, or sit by themselves?” he asked, wanting to ensure that he was following her correctly, despite his own ideas on the subject. He knew how he would do things, that was not an issue - what he wanted to know was how she would do them. Whether they differed in this or whether they were, as they so often were, entirely on the same page.

She considered that. "For myself, I would want you to choose that. I would want you to decide if there was a larger design or if it worked in together." she told him. "For you...while I would defer to your preferences, of course, my own desire would be to work things together to form something larger as time wore on." she admitted. "A tapestry that told a story that only we knew how to interpret."

Nate’s lips curved up into a smile. “I was thinking a tapestry. My choice would be an extendable design. Something which could be added to as we experienced events. Using these...,” he indicated the page absently. “Each time something occurred, it could be marked. Memories always to be worn.”

She smiled in return, glad he had fully appreciated the concept she was presenting. After all, he might have been uninterested, but his smile said otherwise. "Exactly." she confirmed for him, watching his eyes. "I did some preliminary design suggestions, though I would want you to add as well. Something we could both work on, both contribute to, not only in the practical sense, the act of marking, but the feel of the design as a whole."

He could understand that, but there was one thing that was becoming clear as they talked, which he needed to say. “If this is how we’re planning things. As a life story this way - then I would want to get started sooner, rather than later,” he told her. Events were already underway. What was happening now - he saw this as the opening salvos of their lives together. This was the start of the rest of their lives, and if they were to chronicle that, then unless they were to miss out, they needed to chronicle it now.

A slow but firm incline of her head was his answer. "That was my thinking as well." she said. "I wanted to get started as soon as we're able. What I wanted was branding. And the initial point we could start at would be easy enough to fashion, I believe. As for you...well, we both understand what you desire." And she did, truthfully. They were both on the same page on that as it were. Something she still delighted in, in her own mind. Something she still occasionally marveled at, considering how she'd always thought there would never be anyone in her life like him, that understood. And not only did he understand, he wanted to participate.

“When?” Nate asked, not quite able to keep the eagerness out of his tone. But then, she did understand him. Understood him, accepted him - even encouraged him. And he wanted it, he wanted it all. But she was the one who planned, he knew that. When it came to the two of them, she had the better head on her shoulders for setting up the where and when. If it was left to him, with his impulsive nature, just talking about things the way they were now and the room would already be half covered in blood.

She smiled at him. It was a wicked sort of expression, though there was a laced undertone of something that bordered on sweet, an odd mix at best. But it was there, and she leaned closer to him. "The real question would be where is it we can accomplish this without screams alerting unwanted attention?" she posed, voice just a little breathier than it had been a moment before. Once she'd latched onto the idea while he'd been gone, she very much wanted to go through with it. That was only fueled by his enthusiasm for it.

“The graveyard - or the docks. We own a building down there... Well, let’s just say that it wouldn’t be the first time people had heard screams coming from there and they know not to go looking to see what’s causing it,” he told her, rattling off a couple of options without a pause for breath.

She considered the options. "The graveyard." she chose. Even if the warehouse might be his and the like, if she was spotted either entering or exiting a place like that, it could cause issues later. But she highly doubted anyone would really be following people around in the graveyard, and last time they'd been undisturbed. The tomb was farther back in the graveyard anyhow, an area where people weren't exactly frequenting because the stones were old. Or, she could break into her family's mausoleum, which would have the same conditions. Either one would work for her, however. She would be happy either way.

He inclined his head in agreement - in actual fact, he didn’t care where this happened, just that it did. She could pick the middle of the fucking city plaza for all he cared. Save, of course, that they’d both be very dead if they tried such a thing. But, all the same, the sentiment was there for him - she named the where and the when, and he’d show up. Only, she hadn’t named the when. So he took care of that. “Tomorrow night,” he told her.

Ari smiled. "Tomorrow night." she agreed. "After dark. Your assignment until then is to come up with a way to brand this," she pointed to the simple start point of the design, "On me. And of course to choose where it'll go." Because she was leaving that to him entirely. Wherever he wanted, she would submit to. She had an idea, but wouldn't share it unless he wanted that input. She was going to be his canvas, he got to decorate it. "I of course already know exactly what I'm doing with you, where, how, but it's to be a surprise."

“Twenty-four hours to come up with a brand.” When he knew next to nothing about branding. Of course. But - well, Nate did so love a challenge. It made him feel alive. “Consider it done,” he told her, with confidence and, if anything, more spark in him than a moment ago, if that was possible. He practically hummed with the challenge.

Arienne had imagined he would rise to that. That he would enjoy the idea in and of itself. Hell, she imagined he'd enjoy keeping the branding implements after the fact, something he could take out and look at whenever he chose, even when they were apart. "Excellent." she said, getting in closer to him, exhaling a little by his ear as she did so. "I'll be counting the hours until then." she promised. And she would. Like she stayed in close and a part of her truly desired doing more, but she wanted to wait. She wanted to savor everything, she wanted to bring every bit of her electrified feelings towards him and everything to do with him with her tomorrow. When they'd need the privacy for undisturbed screaming. Where blood would flow, and flesh would sear. It would be like nothing else could ever be.