[It seems like almost everyone Natasha talks to is here for something like that—to save someone they didn't manage to before. Not everyone, but of the regrets Natasha has heard, that seems to be a reoccuring theme.
Or maybe it just seems that way from her perspective.]
[ she wants to ask if any of them are good, considering the expectations of the orbs and their goals, the way andy still tries to follow hers despite knowing how terrible and awful the orbs can be. ]
[ it makes sense though, because who doesn't want another chance to save someone they might have failed before? ]
Her name is Quỳnh. [ at least on ximilia, andy is careful to always use is, not was. absently her hand moves to touch the necklace usually at her neck, but she'd taken it off before natasha arrived. ]
I didn't really want to get involved to save the Hivawei for a lot of reasons, but she was up there. [ she knows a lot of the crew have a hero complex, but natasha is not one of them, and that makes it easier to touch on her less than popular perspective on the last mission. ]
And now I'm just too fucking tired all over again.
[Natasha's tone is apologetic, but not pitying. She doesn't seem especially ashamed either, just—sympathetic. Their last mission was one where Natasha could find deep sympathy for the people who'd wanted to save the inhabitants, and also for those who couldn't prioritize them.
Nothing about any of this is easy, or simple.]
I could talk about something else, but I'd be lying if I said I'm not curious.
[ she doesn't want pity, so the tone is more welcome. ]
[ there's a stretch of silence that suggests andy isn't going to expound, but it's the fact that natasha doesn't pry that makes andy feel like she can speak of it. if she changed the subject, natasha would go with the flow, and that makes it easy to be in the other woman's company. ]
The four of us were trying to save victims of the witch trials, in England. But she and I were caught, tried ourselves, and executed multiple times. Obviously none of it stuck. They put her in an iron coffin and threw her into the ocean. [ short, flat sentences that describe it with precise technicality but certainly leave out most of the emotional components. ]
She's still there. I've seen so many cultures die off, including my fucking own. This time I had to put her first. Myself too. Though I'm not sure how well that part worked out for me.
[Natasha's memory goes back to a dance under the sea, how—melancholy, maybe? Restless and unhappy Andy had seemed during that mission. Natasha couldn't say she had loved it herself, busy with her own discomfort having her body altered without her consent, but she can imagine now how much older and deeper Andy's discomfort was.
She tucks her head, taking in the weight of that.]
It hasn't failed yet.
[They did get the orb in the end, and they saved some people.
She wonders how many people are still tender about the fact they hadn't been able to do more?]
I'd say you've earned putting yourself first a few times. Once every few thousand years.
[ there's a huffed sound, almost a laugh but she can't quite get there. ]
Maybe when I hit seven thousand I can retire. The sixth millennium is a tough one. [ absently, she leans her head against the top of natasha's, where she's tucked it in, seeking out that comfort and connection. ]
I know we're a team for a reason, that we all have our strengths and weaknesses and it varies from mission to mission. But it's still my body. Sometimes I just need a break.
[Natasha relaxes against Andy deliberately, letting herself be comfortable here.
It's easier than she wants to think about.]
Yeah, I think that's fair.
[Seven thousand. It's too much to even wrap her head around. Natasha doesn't even try. Instead, she focuses on being here and providing some kind of comfort while she can.
She thinks about leaving, how she'd normally have crept out by now and left Andy to fall asleep, and thinking about it finds she doesn't really want to leave now.]
I could stay a while longer, if you don't mind? Just... maybe take a little nap before heading out.
[ it's odd to have her years as known as they've become on this ship, to admit to them even if the exact number is as lost to time as the rest of the earliest pieces of her life. there's a strange solace that comes alongside admitting it each instance though, like a tiny bit of weight is shed. ]
I don't mind. [ it's a comfort in itself to have natasha offer, knowing her usual modus operandi is to leave. the bigger surprise is that andy finds she wants her to stay too, usually preferring to fuck and run when she gets in these moods. ]
[ but there is nowhere to run here, and natasha is warm. at least she can feel a little human instead of soldier for a while. ]
It's... good to feel like I don't have to be a shield right now.
[Natasha makes a sound of agreement, as though it's not surprising, or particularly in need of more comment than that. Just enough to confirm that she's heard and that she'll stay.]
Oh no, definitely not a shield right now. That would be much less fun to take to bed.
[ without thinking, andy finds herself curling in more, her body only sore in a good way, her muscles at ease instead of taut with tension. quỳnh lingers in her head, as she so often does, but laying here with natasha without any pressures or judgements solidifies her lack of regret for how she'd handled the hivawei. handled herself. ]
[ sometimes andy is just a tired woman stuck inside an immortal body and she wants to ignore the latter, however briefly. ]
[Natasha sighs, relaxing to stay for a while longer. It's not so hard, really. She doesn't let herself reflect on whether it's easier than it should be.
It seems like maybe neither of them quite want to be alone.]
[ andy's own smile is faint, even as her eyes slip closed again. ]
Me too.
[ she'd meant it moreso for the talking, the chatter, the way it seems to have settled some of andy's own restlessness, but falling into a pattern of sex for the sake of it with natasha would hardly be the worst outcome. ]
The offer's mutual, you know. Today I needed this. Maybe next time you will.
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no subject
[It seems like almost everyone Natasha talks to is here for something like that—to save someone they didn't manage to before. Not everyone, but of the regrets Natasha has heard, that seems to be a reoccuring theme.
Or maybe it just seems that way from her perspective.]
Effective motivation.
no subject
[ it makes sense though, because who doesn't want another chance to save someone they might have failed before? ]
Her name is Quỳnh. [ at least on ximilia, andy is careful to always use is, not was. absently her hand moves to touch the necklace usually at her neck, but she'd taken it off before natasha arrived. ]
I didn't really want to get involved to save the Hivawei for a lot of reasons, but she was up there. [ she knows a lot of the crew have a hero complex, but natasha is not one of them, and that makes it easier to touch on her less than popular perspective on the last mission. ]
And now I'm just too fucking tired all over again.
no subject
[Natasha's tone is apologetic, but not pitying. She doesn't seem especially ashamed either, just—sympathetic. Their last mission was one where Natasha could find deep sympathy for the people who'd wanted to save the inhabitants, and also for those who couldn't prioritize them.
Nothing about any of this is easy, or simple.]
I could talk about something else, but I'd be lying if I said I'm not curious.
no subject
[ there's a stretch of silence that suggests andy isn't going to expound, but it's the fact that natasha doesn't pry that makes andy feel like she can speak of it. if she changed the subject, natasha would go with the flow, and that makes it easy to be in the other woman's company. ]
The four of us were trying to save victims of the witch trials, in England. But she and I were caught, tried ourselves, and executed multiple times. Obviously none of it stuck. They put her in an iron coffin and threw her into the ocean. [ short, flat sentences that describe it with precise technicality but certainly leave out most of the emotional components. ]
She's still there. I've seen so many cultures die off, including my fucking own. This time I had to put her first. Myself too. Though I'm not sure how well that part worked out for me.
no subject
She tucks her head, taking in the weight of that.]
It hasn't failed yet.
[They did get the orb in the end, and they saved some people.
She wonders how many people are still tender about the fact they hadn't been able to do more?]
I'd say you've earned putting yourself first a few times. Once every few thousand years.
no subject
Maybe when I hit seven thousand I can retire. The sixth millennium is a tough one. [ absently, she leans her head against the top of natasha's, where she's tucked it in, seeking out that comfort and connection. ]
I know we're a team for a reason, that we all have our strengths and weaknesses and it varies from mission to mission. But it's still my body. Sometimes I just need a break.
no subject
It's easier than she wants to think about.]
Yeah, I think that's fair.
[Seven thousand. It's too much to even wrap her head around. Natasha doesn't even try. Instead, she focuses on being here and providing some kind of comfort while she can.
She thinks about leaving, how she'd normally have crept out by now and left Andy to fall asleep, and thinking about it finds she doesn't really want to leave now.]
I could stay a while longer, if you don't mind? Just... maybe take a little nap before heading out.
[Because it's the best she can offer.]
no subject
I don't mind. [ it's a comfort in itself to have natasha offer, knowing her usual modus operandi is to leave. the bigger surprise is that andy finds she wants her to stay too, usually preferring to fuck and run when she gets in these moods. ]
[ but there is nowhere to run here, and natasha is warm. at least she can feel a little human instead of soldier for a while. ]
It's... good to feel like I don't have to be a shield right now.
no subject
Oh no, definitely not a shield right now. That would be much less fun to take to bed.
no subject
[ sometimes andy is just a tired woman stuck inside an immortal body and she wants to ignore the latter, however briefly. ]
Thank you. [ for many many things! ]
no subject
[Natasha sighs, relaxing to stay for a while longer. It's not so hard, really. She doesn't let herself reflect on whether it's easier than it should be.
It seems like maybe neither of them quite want to be alone.]
no subject
[ andy assumes it's just going to happen again. her body as a weapon is a long-running theme. ]
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I like the idea of there being a next time.
[Not a commitment, but making sure it's clear—she's entirely open to this being a pattern.
Even if sometimes there's a little talking after.]
no subject
Me too.
[ she'd meant it moreso for the talking, the chatter, the way it seems to have settled some of andy's own restlessness, but falling into a pattern of sex for the sake of it with natasha would hardly be the worst outcome. ]
The offer's mutual, you know. Today I needed this. Maybe next time you will.
no subject
[There's a little wryness there, but fondness too. A softness Natasha doesn't usually allow to creep into her tone.
It's fine. She knows better than to get to rely on this.
But for the moment, it does feel good.]