[Not that they haven't had to work. Natasha spent more than a little time up in the sails learning the ropes and giving her services as a lookout. She enjoyed the acrobatics of it, what can she say?
But this sounds better.]
And I can't complain about the view. The coastline is very impressive.
[Alright, that is enough to make Finn a little green. Not the lack of walking, a good hike was one of his favorite things, but the new sights sounded better than muddy roads and horse droppings.
He leans on his hand, smiling a little wistful.]
Can you still see it? It's probably about sunset there, right?
[Subtle. Very subtle. Natasha could almost miss Finn's meaning.
Natasha laughs at the comment, looking out over the water and giving a slight shake of her head. They're on their way to fight god knows what, and he's asking about the view.]
You know, I can.
[A pause as she makes him wait, then the view pans away from Natasha and out over the water and the coastline where red and violet light glints off the rolling water and sets off the blue-white sprays of foam. The color stains the rocky short and the summer sere hills beyond like water color.
Natasha would be hard pressed to say it wasn't a striking sunset.]
Way better. [He turns his own camera, towards the ramshackle camp. It actually wasn't too bad; less breathtaking, but certainly cozy.] It's all mud and sweaty guy smell over here.
[Finn returns his gaze to the ocean Natasha showed him, surprised by the progression of emotion in his gut. It was beautiful. Not just beautiful, either -- nostalgic. There was something so familiar about the way the sun reflected off the home. Maybe that was the same no matter where you went -- would he and Nettle be staring out at a similar sea on their next mission? That is, if they made it out of this one.
Though Finn was optimistic. A day of travelling at Jun Shortaxe's back filled him with newfound encouragement. They would make short work of whatever monsters lay ahead of them and get the orb in hand -- together.]
Y'know, when I was little, the ocean was like... my number one fear. I was totally petrified of it. [He takes another bite of stew, humming thoughtfully.] S'weird, how something could be the scariest thing in the world and one day it suddenly it isn't, huh?
[The comment about sweaty guy smell gets a snort out of Natasha, scoffing softly at the way he says it. Not that he's wrong, she imagines, though it's not something she's especially worried about.
The view pans away from the coastline and back to Natasha's face.]
It can be. [She studies his expression, taking in the signs of fatigue from the road. Or maybe looking for chicken scratches.] I find usually when that happens there's something that's changed. Either you've learned a reason not to find the original thing frightening anymore...
[She'll find that weariness, but it's somehow older than the journey they were now on. Maybe even older than his relatively short time on the Ximilia itself. Though when he sees Natasha again, his smile seems to redouble. Her face was comforting, smoothing away those cracks in Finn's armor as quickly as Natasha might've noticed them.]
Heh, now we're getting into some real campfire talk. [Wistful, aimless, thought provoking -- there was just something about the crackle of embers that evoked such topics of conversation. Now was just about the time his brother would usually snuff out their fire, declaring their naval gazing over and sending him to bed. It was almost thrilling to not have anyone around to tell him to stop thinking so much.
He leans on his hands, setting aside his now-empty stew bowl and looking at Natasha with keen interest.]
[Her chin rises a notch, one brow winging higher than the other as she gives him a challenging look, daring him to imply that she experiences such standard issue human emotions as fear.
There's a little bit of a smile at one side of her mouth, not quite reaching her eyes.
After a beat, she adds:]
Eventually most of the things that scare you stop being as simple as the ocean, or the dark, or spiders. You're not afraid of the ocean anymore, right?
[But the adult fears usually make a lot less interesting campfire stories.]
[Her confidence earns a laugh from Finn, as it always does. Truthfully, it's a comfort. Natasha's steady ease with her emotions was always a comfort, in some small way. She was dependable and sturdy and Finn never found himself worrying about her the way he did other people. Not because he cared about her any less, that much was obvious, but because... well...
Something about the thought sits strange in Finn's throat as his laugh peters out. Why didn't he worry?]
Pfft, no. Not since I was like... fifteen. [Finn mumbles the last part, not sure if that was too-old or not.] And I get that. I mean, the stuff that scares me now is, like...
[He trails off, looking uncomfortable for a brief moment. When Finn resumes speaking, his voice is breezy and remote.]
[Fifteen. Nailed it. Natasha hears that hesitation as Finn seems to triangulate his answer, stumbling through the parts of himself he wants her to see. She can hardly fault him for that.
She's also not in a position to judge from her own experience at what age it's appropriate to stop being afraid of what kind of fears.
Her own fears at fifteen weren't that different from her fears now. Which was to say, not things she was in a hurry to play show-and-tell with.
A fact which doesn't prevent her from sympathizing.]
People dying is a very normal thing to be afraid of, in my experience. And not a fear that's very likely to go away as you get older.
Nah, nah. [He says it maybe too quickly for that to be the absolute truth, but it's not a lie either.] I mean, not more than I usually am when I'm marching towards a big fight, right?
[It's meant as a joke and Finn chuckles a little, stoking the fading embers of his fire back to life with a branch. They popped to life in a brilliant glow, sending up sparks to catch fresh kindling. It kinda reminded Finn of Nettle's hair.]
I guess what I'm thinkin' about is, like... it's weird how people change, I guess. Like, I only know the you I know now, but you must've been like a hundred other people before I met you. And I'll never know any of those people, not unless you tell me about 'em, and does that even really count as knowing them?
[Oh yeah. The campfire was doing its job. Finn looks a little sheepish, realizing how he'd been rambling.]
Is that weird to say? I dunno if other humans think about this stuff.
[What comes off as typical teenage self-absorption (could anyone else possibly feel the same as I do?) actually has a much more literal source. Being a part of the Ximilia crew was the first time Finn spent any significant time with other humans. He could now at least say he'd met other humans in his world, but the deeper parts of knowing someone? The stuff they feared, the way they thought... Finn never got the chance to get that close.
Maybe that's half the reason his interest is trained so keenly on Natasha now, hesitatingly reaching across the physical and metaphorical distance between them for some sort of connection.]
[Natasha doesn't have the campfire to blame for this. It could the the sound of the ocean or the first stars starting to flitter and glint on the far horizon. It makes their conversation seem more intimate, more private than it really is when she's sitting on the prow of a busy boat.
Or maybe it's just Finn's questions, the way he words them so specifically that cuts close to a nerve.
She bites her lip briefly, grounding herself before she answers.]
Yes, other humans think about that stuff. Not all of us, and not all of the time, but...
[She trails out, considering what to say to that. Does she want to admit how exactly she's thought those things. There are answers to Finn's question that aren't suitable for a kid, even one who's clearly feeling out some deep, dark places.]
I think about that. I think sometimes that I could fill a graveyard with the people I've been.
[Though Finn doesn't fully realizes it, the same feeling held true for him. All around him were others at work fortifying their camp, discussing the next day's itinerary, or simply enjoying a little late night conversation. It should have been distracting, but it wasn't. They were all miles away, as far as he was concerned.
Meanwhile, the person who actually was miles away felt as if she were right next to him. Funny how that worked.]
I mean... [It's hard to bite back the urge to counter her assertion; that stubborn insistence that, no, of course nothing from Natasha's past would change how he felt about her now. In the end, he does swallow it. There were versions of him he wasn't too keen on Natasha knowing, either.] It's a good thing, right? You grow up and you get more and more like the person you're supposed to be in the end.
[Even as he says it, the words feel strange in his mouth. If that were true, why did each passing year older make him feel less comfortable in his own skin. Finn frowns, looking to Natasha with genuine curiosity.]
Like, you. You're the person you're supposed to be now, right?
[The question is soft, open ended and somewhat rhetorical. A way to sidestep a direct answer, even if it's only buying time. It's complicated, and in some ways maybe she does think it's true.
It had felt that way on Vormir—like so many years of her life had led her to that moment so she could be the right person at the right time. She'd been able to save her best friend's life because of it. She'd been able, in some part, to undue the Snap because of it.
But having to live with that choice afterward, who did that make her now?]
Seems like a lot of circumstances have me reflecting on that lately. Maybe you're right. I'm not sure I think it's really who you're meant to be in the end, though. That makes it sound like there's a plan, and I'm not sure I buy it.
[If this was meant to be, she had some words for whoever it was whose intentions they were paying out.]
But you're right that all those other Natashas got me here, and I suppose on some level I should thank them for that.
[Some of the uglier versions of herself might be the only reason she's alive right now when so many other girls weren't.]
And the Natasha I am now is... sort of the best I can do in the moment? Something like that.
[Something about the way Natasha spoke reminds Finn of a storyteller. It's not the first time he's thought that about her, but it may be the first time he's realized it consciously. Each word left her mouth imbued with a careful sort of meaning (or sometimes, the notable absence of meaning) that came together in the end to paint the picture of who she was.
Natasha; tough as nails but without the arrogance, good humored but not too flashy, thoughtful but never too personal. Each piece of her that Finn could see was muted by another, buttoning her up into the person she felt comfortable showing the rest of the world.
Was this person she was letting him see now still that Natasha? Finn leans on his hand, watching her keenly as she speaks. It's as if he's waiting for the answer to leap out at him at any moment.]
Well, the Nettle you are now is pretty cool. [No answers yet, but Finn is smiling anyway. Not just smiling, grinning.] But maybe the next version of you will get a better nickname.
[Natasha smiles at that comment, significantly less open. If anything, her expression closes somewhat. It's not hostility. If anything, there's a little bit of fondness in it, something almost indulgent.
But also a little sad.]
I've had a lot of nicknames. Natasha suits me just fine. Suppose I can let Nettle stick around for a while.
[She shrugs, not letting the expression stick long.]
[ The shift of expression is almost imperceptible; subtleties sanded off by the headset connection and Finn's own youth and experience. Still, he does notice something. Around the eyes, maybe? Finn feels his own expression tightening in his efforts to place it.
Was she... okay?
Finn opens his mouth to ask exactly that, clearly tentative, when a new voice makes shouts across the connection. Finn jumps as if he'd just received an electric shock. ]
Finn! [ The voice shouts; Natasha might recognize it as Felix. ] Let's hurry it up!
[ Scrambling anxiously, Finn is already gathering up his things. He casts an apologetic look to Natasha, whatever he'd been about to ask gone from his mind. ]
I'm coming! [ He frowns, guilt obvious. It's not just because he's making a quick exit, either. ] Ugh, sorry Nettle. I gotta go. See you tomorrow?
sob when you see the typos when you reread. oh well!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Not that they haven't had to work. Natasha spent more than a little time up in the sails learning the ropes and giving her services as a lookout. She enjoyed the acrobatics of it, what can she say?
But this sounds better.]
And I can't complain about the view. The coastline is very impressive.
no subject
He leans on his hand, smiling a little wistful.]
Can you still see it? It's probably about sunset there, right?
[The implication is obvious; give him a peek!]
no subject
Natasha laughs at the comment, looking out over the water and giving a slight shake of her head. They're on their way to fight god knows what, and he's asking about the view.]
You know, I can.
[A pause as she makes him wait, then the view pans away from Natasha and out over the water and the coastline where red and violet light glints off the rolling water and sets off the blue-white sprays of foam. The color stains the rocky short and the summer sere hills beyond like water color.
Natasha would be hard pressed to say it wasn't a striking sunset.]
How's it compare with what you've got?
no subject
[Finn returns his gaze to the ocean Natasha showed him, surprised by the progression of emotion in his gut. It was beautiful. Not just beautiful, either -- nostalgic. There was something so familiar about the way the sun reflected off the home. Maybe that was the same no matter where you went -- would he and Nettle be staring out at a similar sea on their next mission? That is, if they made it out of this one.
Though Finn was optimistic. A day of travelling at Jun Shortaxe's back filled him with newfound encouragement. They would make short work of whatever monsters lay ahead of them and get the orb in hand -- together.]
Y'know, when I was little, the ocean was like... my number one fear. I was totally petrified of it. [He takes another bite of stew, humming thoughtfully.] S'weird, how something could be the scariest thing in the world and one day it suddenly it isn't, huh?
no subject
The view pans away from the coastline and back to Natasha's face.]
It can be. [She studies his expression, taking in the signs of fatigue from the road. Or maybe looking for chicken scratches.] I find usually when that happens there's something that's changed. Either you've learned a reason not to find the original thing frightening anymore...
Or you've found something scarier.
no subject
Heh, now we're getting into some real campfire talk. [Wistful, aimless, thought provoking -- there was just something about the crackle of embers that evoked such topics of conversation. Now was just about the time his brother would usually snuff out their fire, declaring their naval gazing over and sending him to bed. It was almost thrilling to not have anyone around to tell him to stop thinking so much.
He leans on his hands, setting aside his now-empty stew bowl and looking at Natasha with keen interest.]
So what scares you, Nettle?
no subject
[Her chin rises a notch, one brow winging higher than the other as she gives him a challenging look, daring him to imply that she experiences such standard issue human emotions as fear.
There's a little bit of a smile at one side of her mouth, not quite reaching her eyes.
After a beat, she adds:]
Eventually most of the things that scare you stop being as simple as the ocean, or the dark, or spiders. You're not afraid of the ocean anymore, right?
[But the adult fears usually make a lot less interesting campfire stories.]
no subject
Something about the thought sits strange in Finn's throat as his laugh peters out. Why didn't he worry?]
Pfft, no. Not since I was like... fifteen. [Finn mumbles the last part, not sure if that was too-old or not.] And I get that. I mean, the stuff that scares me now is, like...
[He trails off, looking uncomfortable for a brief moment. When Finn resumes speaking, his voice is breezy and remote.]
I dunno. People dying. Normal stuff.
no subject
She's also not in a position to judge from her own experience at what age it's appropriate to stop being afraid of what kind of fears.
Her own fears at fifteen weren't that different from her fears now. Which was to say, not things she was in a hurry to play show-and-tell with.
A fact which doesn't prevent her from sympathizing.]
People dying is a very normal thing to be afraid of, in my experience. And not a fear that's very likely to go away as you get older.
[At least, one hopes not.]
Is that something you're thinking about now?
no subject
[It's meant as a joke and Finn chuckles a little, stoking the fading embers of his fire back to life with a branch. They popped to life in a brilliant glow, sending up sparks to catch fresh kindling. It kinda reminded Finn of Nettle's hair.]
I guess what I'm thinkin' about is, like... it's weird how people change, I guess. Like, I only know the you I know now, but you must've been like a hundred other people before I met you. And I'll never know any of those people, not unless you tell me about 'em, and does that even really count as knowing them?
[Oh yeah. The campfire was doing its job. Finn looks a little sheepish, realizing how he'd been rambling.]
Is that weird to say? I dunno if other humans think about this stuff.
[What comes off as typical teenage self-absorption (could anyone else possibly feel the same as I do?) actually has a much more literal source. Being a part of the Ximilia crew was the first time Finn spent any significant time with other humans. He could now at least say he'd met other humans in his world, but the deeper parts of knowing someone? The stuff they feared, the way they thought... Finn never got the chance to get that close.
Maybe that's half the reason his interest is trained so keenly on Natasha now, hesitatingly reaching across the physical and metaphorical distance between them for some sort of connection.]
Do you think about this stuff?
no subject
Or maybe it's just Finn's questions, the way he words them so specifically that cuts close to a nerve.
She bites her lip briefly, grounding herself before she answers.]
Yes, other humans think about that stuff. Not all of us, and not all of the time, but...
[She trails out, considering what to say to that. Does she want to admit how exactly she's thought those things. There are answers to Finn's question that aren't suitable for a kid, even one who's clearly feeling out some deep, dark places.]
I think about that. I think sometimes that I could fill a graveyard with the people I've been.
[It's hard to shrug that off.]
Some of them you might be better off not knowing.
no subject
Meanwhile, the person who actually was miles away felt as if she were right next to him. Funny how that worked.]
I mean... [It's hard to bite back the urge to counter her assertion; that stubborn insistence that, no, of course nothing from Natasha's past would change how he felt about her now. In the end, he does swallow it. There were versions of him he wasn't too keen on Natasha knowing, either.] It's a good thing, right? You grow up and you get more and more like the person you're supposed to be in the end.
[Even as he says it, the words feel strange in his mouth. If that were true, why did each passing year older make him feel less comfortable in his own skin. Finn frowns, looking to Natasha with genuine curiosity.]
Like, you. You're the person you're supposed to be now, right?
no subject
[The question is soft, open ended and somewhat rhetorical. A way to sidestep a direct answer, even if it's only buying time. It's complicated, and in some ways maybe she does think it's true.
It had felt that way on Vormir—like so many years of her life had led her to that moment so she could be the right person at the right time. She'd been able to save her best friend's life because of it. She'd been able, in some part, to undue the Snap because of it.
But having to live with that choice afterward, who did that make her now?]
Seems like a lot of circumstances have me reflecting on that lately. Maybe you're right. I'm not sure I think it's really who you're meant to be in the end, though. That makes it sound like there's a plan, and I'm not sure I buy it.
[If this was meant to be, she had some words for whoever it was whose intentions they were paying out.]
But you're right that all those other Natashas got me here, and I suppose on some level I should thank them for that.
[Some of the uglier versions of herself might be the only reason she's alive right now when so many other girls weren't.]
And the Natasha I am now is... sort of the best I can do in the moment? Something like that.
no subject
Natasha; tough as nails but without the arrogance, good humored but not too flashy, thoughtful but never too personal. Each piece of her that Finn could see was muted by another, buttoning her up into the person she felt comfortable showing the rest of the world.
Was this person she was letting him see now still that Natasha? Finn leans on his hand, watching her keenly as she speaks. It's as if he's waiting for the answer to leap out at him at any moment.]
Well, the Nettle you are now is pretty cool. [No answers yet, but Finn is smiling anyway. Not just smiling, grinning.] But maybe the next version of you will get a better nickname.
no subject
But also a little sad.]
I've had a lot of nicknames. Natasha suits me just fine. Suppose I can let Nettle stick around for a while.
[She shrugs, not letting the expression stick long.]
You'll have to tell me if I earn a new one.
no subject
Was she... okay?
Finn opens his mouth to ask exactly that, clearly tentative, when a new voice makes shouts across the connection. Finn jumps as if he'd just received an electric shock. ]
Finn! [ The voice shouts; Natasha might recognize it as Felix. ] Let's hurry it up!
[ Scrambling anxiously, Finn is already gathering up his things. He casts an apologetic look to Natasha, whatever he'd been about to ask gone from his mind. ]
I'm coming! [ He frowns, guilt obvious. It's not just because he's making a quick exit, either. ] Ugh, sorry Nettle. I gotta go. See you tomorrow?
sob when you see the typos when you reread. oh well!
[She ought to get some dinner and settle in for the night. They're going to be working again tomorrow.]
Take care of yourself. I expect to see you in one piece at the end of this.
THE CURSE
Right back atcha, Nettle.