[Natasha stays still, not drawing attention to the touch. It occurs to her she could still leave. Andy wouldn't stop her, she's very confident of that. It's probably that freedom that makes it easy to stay.
Or maybe it's because the sentiment strikes a chord with ier.]
I think that's one of the reasons I try not to stop moving. As long as I don't stop, maybe I won't have to stop and notice.
[This is a much better kind of tired. More honest.]
[ maybe it's the fact that she does know natasha would and could leave any time she wanted but isn't that settles andy some about bringing it up. sometimes she just wants to acknowledge how tired she is. but her brothers are gone, and she's not sure who else gets that feeling. that sluggishness, that endless ache of life. ]
[ she laughs again, this one quieter, maybe less bitter, but still edging on a hollowness. she recognizes that feeling too. ]
I don't think it's possible for me to be still. [ she was born of the steppe, after all, and her inability to stop moving has escalated with immortality. she's been mobile since the beginning. ]
I've always been moving. It's a comfort, I suppose. Pain in the ass here, though. [ hard to fuck off on a space station. ]
[It's not the same, she figures. Just on the scope of things, Andy has been around for a long time. A staggeringly long time, really. Natasha can't imagine it.
She's not sure she wants to. She takes a deep breath, not quite sighing in sympathy.]
Usually it's not that much of a problem. Back home, there's always something. Another mission, or a calamity, or...
[ andy often disappears for long stretches of time that ultimately come out to feel like no time at all. she would vanish off the station for a year and come back, but it feels like failing quỳnh, so she's stuck. restlessly so. ]
I like to go off the grid. I get tired of missions and people and... involvement. [ it was admittedly part of her decision to step back on the last mission. she gets tired of existence. hers is just too long. she's come a long way in her time on the ship, but those feelings don't get erased because she's not jiving as cynically. ]
[ she tilts her head enough to shoot natasha a bemused look. ] Sharks. [ she tries to sound amused, half a question too. ] Do you have experience fighting sharks, too?
[The question gets a chuckle out of Natasha. She had that one coming—she didn't exactly connect the dots.]
They say when sharks stop swimming they suffocate. [She shifts a little, stretching rather than getting up. Her tone is low and a little less dry than normal when she adds:] Luckily very little punching sharks.
[Her gaze shifts back to Andy then, taking in the curve of her cheek and her neck, wondering just how fast things must seem to her.]
What would you do if you could take a break? Climb K2?
[ andy smiles, faintly, at natasha's laugh, idly thinking back to their conversation about getting her to laugh more. her eyes close again, making her miss the way natasha looks at her. ]
They say a lot of things about sharks, but they're also less dangerous than hippos.
[ her thumb moves idly against natasha, again a gesture andy isn't thinking about. ]
I've done K2 before. Usually with Joe. But Denali is my favorite to solo. [ she frowns a little. ] He left. I'm not sure if you knew yet.
I always wanted to be less dangerous than a hippo.
[Natasha could ask Andy to stop. She doesn't. The contact seems like a way to draw the moment out a little longer, not to have to retreat to the shower and then her own bed.
She will, eventually. That's the plan.
But not yet.]
I noticed. [Regarding Joe.] I'm sorry. He's a good guy—I'll miss having him around.
They're a pretty high bar, so I think you could settle for second place.
[ she definitely recognizes how dangerous natasha is and can be. it's one of her favorite things about the other woman! ]
[ her hand stills, but stays in place. she's simply a tactile creature, her touch often a whim in these quieter moments. ]
I'll miss having him here, but I know I'll see him again. I'm usually just more guilty of leaving first. [ maybe that's part of what feels so off about it here and now. she's stuck and joe left. a beat. ] Iceland's not a bad place to get lost either.
[ the smallest of smiles creeps again onto her face. ] You joke, but that was probably a part of it. They're not usually apart this long.
[ she misses nicky too, but not with the same ache. she's been away from them both for years at a time before. ]
[ there's a patch of quiet before she speaks again. there's no going home to someone the same way for andy, not without finishing what she started here. ]
I'm pretty good at disappearing anywhere. Ximilia notwithstanding.
I don't doubt that. Which is really something, considering you don't exactly get lost in a crowd.
[It could have been a compliment, one directed at Andy's looks, but the admiration in how Natasha says that is for the skill. Andy is a very attractive woman, and in a way that tends to stand out—tall and self-contained. There are ways to vanish though, techniques for moving among other people and not attracting attention.
And there's skills involved in going dark, especially in the modern era. Once upon a time, it was possible to just walk into the forest and leave people behind. Now there are cameras waiting for when you come out again.]
I'd be lying if I said I didn't see the appeal sometimes. Go do a tour as a hermit somewhere.
[ she laughs again, a little bit, the sound more muted. ]
It's easier now that people have gotten taller on average. [ it's not a dig at natasha. but when she was merely a thousand years old, most women were practically a foot shorter than her. she towered over a lot of the men too. ]
[ but she supposes she didn't have that same compulsion to vanish back then either. ]
The world is so... different, in such a short time. [ the technological boom is about as old as booker. ] It's harder to disappear, but not impossible. And when I get tired like this, that's all I want to do.
I can only imagine. Even in my lifetime, things have changed a lot—it's gotten a lot harder to vanish.
[In forty years, what being a spy looks like has changed so much. Information that used to be inaccessible or difficult to obtain was now a few keystrokes away and every single person is suddenly carrying cameras and communication tools in their pocket.
In a lot of cases they're taking the pictures spies used to engineer for weeks to get themselves, so all you need to do is access their phone.
On the other hand, that access was a two edged sword.]
I suppose no one can ever stop you from just walking out into the steppes.
Fucking tell me about it. I can't keep up with it all. [ she's not even a spy, and it's annoyingly tiresome trying to keep their footprints away from the world. booker does - did, she supposes - his best, but it's not like andy can set the internet on fire from a single location like she could a collection of photos. ]
[ wars are far more documented now than they used to be, and andy often finds herself pulled into them. ]
I'd like to say no one can stop me from doing anything, but it's not always true. [ she wouldn't be here if it were. she closes her eyes again, this time out of that aching exhaustion. she's immortal, but not superhuman. ]
There's no steppe here. Not the real one. I've probably seen every inch of it, from Ukraine to China to cultures displaced and destroyed, just like the Hivawei. [ despite bringing them up, andy wouldn't say she is particularly devastated by their losses, not like some of the other orbers seem to be. ]
[It's got to be different seeing the Hivawei from the perspective of having already seen thousands of years worth of civilization rise and fall and be replaced again. Maybe that wasn't the same scale as an entire planet, but on the other hand what difference did it make to some ancient tribesman who's culture had been forgotten that humanity itself still existed.
The size and weight of it is more than Natasha can really wrap her mind around, but the idea does occur to her, like a shadow moving across the sky.]
I have a hard time seeing anyone stopping you from doing for very long. Maybe for a while, but... in the long run.
[Andy strikes her as fairly untameable.]
If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?
[ it made it easier for andy to accept their fate perhaps, easier for her to initially against deciding to help. it's likely she wouldn't even remember much about the hivawei in the grand scheme either. she is stateless. culture-less. it's happened over and over, and it ties into her fatigue over the repetition of hurting herself through endless life. ]
[ she snorts, the sound more bitter than amused. she thinks of quỳnh. ] I wouldn't be here if I was always unstoppable.
[ she hums in thought but really the answer is easy. ] The steppe. The Ukok Plateau. [ she mindlessly taps against natasha's hip again. ] What about you?
[Normally, Natasha probably wouldn't push back against that. She wouldn't assume a little casual sex would give her access or authority to comment. This isn't just casual sex, though, is it? The sex is, and it's not that there's some sudden romantic stirring in Natasha's heart. She's too guarded for that.
But there is a sort of intimacy in this conversation. The kind that comes on missions sometimes, on stakeouts, when you're stuck in a hospital bed beside someone—a little familiarity that makes it easier to open up to someone who's still mostly a stranger.]
Doesn't the fact you're here kind of prove the opposite? Stopped, but not forever?
[Assuming any of this works.
She doesn't linger on the comment though, or try to force more out of Andy on that front.
Beside, turning the question around on her is fair.]
I'm not really sure. I don't think I've ever gone somewhere just because I wanted to. I've always been assigned or running from something, or going somewhere there was trouble.
[ maybe it's the weariness in her muscles, her body tired from existence on top of sex, that allows the counter to slip out. ]
Stopped when it mattered most. [ it's hard to feel unstoppable when you're in irons, about to face your sixth or seventh execution in a row. the guilt of quỳnh eats her, no matter how much joe and nicky tried to tell her it wasn't her fault. it's why she stays on this ship, even with joe choosing to go, even with her own desire to flee and get away. ]
[ she lays there in bed, mind roaming like her body can't, drawing a small amount of comfort from the company beside her. ]
Would you go back to anywhere? For the fun of it this time?
[Natasha shifts slightly, turning her head toward Andy to press her cheek to her shoulder briefly in...sympathy? Companionship?]
Paris, maybe? It's easy to be anonymous there. So many people, and no one asking too many questions. Perfect place find a restaurant and settle in with a bottle of wine.
[ she almost smiles, because natasha does deserve to have fun. andy can feel tired of her body and existing and still think this woman beside her deserves nice things. ]
[ the touch of her cheek is unexpectedly warm. another comfort of sorts. ]
[ in some ways it's odd that andy is lingering, given her preferred follow up to collateral sex is to leave, but she's stuck on this ship anyway. might as well enjoy the company she knows she already does. ]
[ andy replies in french, though she doesn't realize it till about halfway through. hers is good too, a level of fluency that comes from centuries of using it and decades with booker. ]
[ she does not want to think about booker. ]
It used to be more of a common language than English.
[ she switches between the languages as seamlessly as natasha, though again she doesn't wholly make the choice to. she's used to just reflecting on what's around her. ]
Maybe not the Algerians. [ they're done having sex, she doesn't need to be charming. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Natasha stays still, not drawing attention to the touch. It occurs to her she could still leave. Andy wouldn't stop her, she's very confident of that. It's probably that freedom that makes it easy to stay.
Or maybe it's because the sentiment strikes a chord with ier.]
I think that's one of the reasons I try not to stop moving. As long as I don't stop, maybe I won't have to stop and notice.
[This is a much better kind of tired. More honest.]
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[ she laughs again, this one quieter, maybe less bitter, but still edging on a hollowness. she recognizes that feeling too. ]
I don't think it's possible for me to be still. [ she was born of the steppe, after all, and her inability to stop moving has escalated with immortality. she's been mobile since the beginning. ]
I've always been moving. It's a comfort, I suppose. Pain in the ass here, though. [ hard to fuck off on a space station. ]
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She's not sure she wants to. She takes a deep breath, not quite sighing in sympathy.]
Usually it's not that much of a problem. Back home, there's always something. Another mission, or a calamity, or...
[Or she always found something.]
Sharks.
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I like to go off the grid. I get tired of missions and people and... involvement. [ it was admittedly part of her decision to step back on the last mission. she gets tired of existence. hers is just too long. she's come a long way in her time on the ship, but those feelings don't get erased because she's not jiving as cynically. ]
[ she tilts her head enough to shoot natasha a bemused look. ] Sharks. [ she tries to sound amused, half a question too. ] Do you have experience fighting sharks, too?
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They say when sharks stop swimming they suffocate. [She shifts a little, stretching rather than getting up. Her tone is low and a little less dry than normal when she adds:] Luckily very little punching sharks.
[Her gaze shifts back to Andy then, taking in the curve of her cheek and her neck, wondering just how fast things must seem to her.]
What would you do if you could take a break? Climb K2?
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They say a lot of things about sharks, but they're also less dangerous than hippos.
[ her thumb moves idly against natasha, again a gesture andy isn't thinking about. ]
I've done K2 before. Usually with Joe. But Denali is my favorite to solo. [ she frowns a little. ] He left. I'm not sure if you knew yet.
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[Natasha could ask Andy to stop. She doesn't. The contact seems like a way to draw the moment out a little longer, not to have to retreat to the shower and then her own bed.
She will, eventually. That's the plan.
But not yet.]
I noticed. [Regarding Joe.] I'm sorry. He's a good guy—I'll miss having him around.
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[ she definitely recognizes how dangerous natasha is and can be. it's one of her favorite things about the other woman! ]
[ her hand stills, but stays in place. she's simply a tactile creature, her touch often a whim in these quieter moments. ]
I'll miss having him here, but I know I'll see him again. I'm usually just more guilty of leaving first. [ maybe that's part of what feels so off about it here and now. she's stuck and joe left. a beat. ] Iceland's not a bad place to get lost either.
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She misses a lot of people.]
I imagine he was in a hurry to get back to his man.
[With a bit more humor. She'd heard about Nicky on multiple occasions, always with an amount of affection that was both cloying and endearing.]
Iceland is nice. I prefer Norway—easier to get out with if things go sideways.
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[ she misses nicky too, but not with the same ache. she's been away from them both for years at a time before. ]
[ there's a patch of quiet before she speaks again. there's no going home to someone the same way for andy, not without finishing what she started here. ]
I'm pretty good at disappearing anywhere. Ximilia notwithstanding.
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[It could have been a compliment, one directed at Andy's looks, but the admiration in how Natasha says that is for the skill. Andy is a very attractive woman, and in a way that tends to stand out—tall and self-contained. There are ways to vanish though, techniques for moving among other people and not attracting attention.
And there's skills involved in going dark, especially in the modern era. Once upon a time, it was possible to just walk into the forest and leave people behind. Now there are cameras waiting for when you come out again.]
I'd be lying if I said I didn't see the appeal sometimes. Go do a tour as a hermit somewhere.
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It's easier now that people have gotten taller on average. [ it's not a dig at natasha. but when she was merely a thousand years old, most women were practically a foot shorter than her. she towered over a lot of the men too. ]
[ but she supposes she didn't have that same compulsion to vanish back then either. ]
The world is so... different, in such a short time. [ the technological boom is about as old as booker. ] It's harder to disappear, but not impossible. And when I get tired like this, that's all I want to do.
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[In forty years, what being a spy looks like has changed so much. Information that used to be inaccessible or difficult to obtain was now a few keystrokes away and every single person is suddenly carrying cameras and communication tools in their pocket.
In a lot of cases they're taking the pictures spies used to engineer for weeks to get themselves, so all you need to do is access their phone.
On the other hand, that access was a two edged sword.]
I suppose no one can ever stop you from just walking out into the steppes.
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[ wars are far more documented now than they used to be, and andy often finds herself pulled into them. ]
I'd like to say no one can stop me from doing anything, but it's not always true. [ she wouldn't be here if it were. she closes her eyes again, this time out of that aching exhaustion. she's immortal, but not superhuman. ]
There's no steppe here. Not the real one. I've probably seen every inch of it, from Ukraine to China to cultures displaced and destroyed, just like the Hivawei. [ despite bringing them up, andy wouldn't say she is particularly devastated by their losses, not like some of the other orbers seem to be. ]
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The size and weight of it is more than Natasha can really wrap her mind around, but the idea does occur to her, like a shadow moving across the sky.]
I have a hard time seeing anyone stopping you from doing for very long. Maybe for a while, but... in the long run.
[Andy strikes her as fairly untameable.]
If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?
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[ she snorts, the sound more bitter than amused. she thinks of quỳnh. ] I wouldn't be here if I was always unstoppable.
[ she hums in thought but really the answer is easy. ] The steppe. The Ukok Plateau. [ she mindlessly taps against natasha's hip again. ] What about you?
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But there is a sort of intimacy in this conversation. The kind that comes on missions sometimes, on stakeouts, when you're stuck in a hospital bed beside someone—a little familiarity that makes it easier to open up to someone who's still mostly a stranger.]
Doesn't the fact you're here kind of prove the opposite? Stopped, but not forever?
[Assuming any of this works.
She doesn't linger on the comment though, or try to force more out of Andy on that front.
Beside, turning the question around on her is fair.]
I'm not really sure. I don't think I've ever gone somewhere just because I wanted to. I've always been assigned or running from something, or going somewhere there was trouble.
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Stopped when it mattered most. [ it's hard to feel unstoppable when you're in irons, about to face your sixth or seventh execution in a row. the guilt of quỳnh eats her, no matter how much joe and nicky tried to tell her it wasn't her fault. it's why she stays on this ship, even with joe choosing to go, even with her own desire to flee and get away. ]
[ she lays there in bed, mind roaming like her body can't, drawing a small amount of comfort from the company beside her. ]
Would you go back to anywhere? For the fun of it this time?
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[Natasha shifts slightly, turning her head toward Andy to press her cheek to her shoulder briefly in...sympathy? Companionship?]
Paris, maybe? It's easy to be anonymous there. So many people, and no one asking too many questions. Perfect place find a restaurant and settle in with a bottle of wine.
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[ the touch of her cheek is unexpectedly warm. another comfort of sorts. ]
Is French in your repertoire of languages?
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She's content to be here. Her answer, when she gives it, is in French.]
It is. One of my better ones, I think. Not as good as my English probably, since I was embedded there, but I haven't embarrassed myself yet.
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[ andy replies in french, though she doesn't realize it till about halfway through. hers is good too, a level of fluency that comes from centuries of using it and decades with booker. ]
[ she does not want to think about booker. ]
It used to be more of a common language than English.
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[It's not because the anglo world was dominant to start with.]
It's still useful to know. Plus, some people find it sexy, so there's that.
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[ she switches between the languages as seamlessly as natasha, though again she doesn't wholly make the choice to. she's used to just reflecting on what's around her. ]
Maybe not the Algerians. [ they're done having sex, she doesn't need to be charming. ]
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[She can admit her flaws.]
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