thisavrou | text; + action options; (cw character death)

Entry tags:

text; + action options; (cw character death)

[locked to people who know Elena Fisher]

elena's dead

[....yeah that's all. Odds are good that Nate will not want to reply to questions, condolences or comments regarding the recent tragedy, though Chloe Frazer might. However, he can be found...]

wandering; Once the shock has passed—if it ever does—Nate wanders for hours. Fuck, maybe days, he doesn't know. He just doesn't want to go back to the house in Region 1 where she isn't.

Eventually he finds himself in a well-wooded park. For lack of anything else to do, he climbs a tree.

at home; When he finally does make it back, Nate parks his ass on the couch, where he'll be sleeping until—well, he can't count on there being an "until." Maybe he'll just live on the couch forever. Sorry, Pepper, Varric, etc.

at the ingress complex; Nate comes by the facility a couple of times, to ask for news or if they can guarantee that they'll be able to bring her back, because he knows that people have returned, and he knows that they don't always.

He walks away both times, unable to stand it if the answer is no.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Okay, this is a start. It's not a great start and certainly doesn't help in the slightest, but at least he got a response!]

you're not gonna lead me to some weird alien brothel or anything are you?

[Nothing like some humor to diffuse the situation. Sam chooses a direction, walks for a few minutes before sending another picture of what must be the space equivalent of a Denny's.]

hot or cold?

[That almost gets the TAB thrown to the base of the tree. Not the time for sex jokes, Sam.

He's tempted to shove the TAB in his pocket and ignore any further messages but he taps out a response anyway when the next one comes. In a way it's easier to give an answer than to summon the willpower to keep ignoring him.]

cold.

[Okay, maybe that was a poorly timed joke. It's hard to tell if Nate's response is in relation to that or if it's actually the wrong direction. Nevertheless, Sam does an about face and walks in the opposite direction, passing the initial bar and walking down a quieter street.]

could you imagine if this was how pirates communicated their secret locations to others in the old days?

[It might have been harder than all the puzzles Avery put them through. And definitely less exciting. Nate gets a serene picture of a cafe, complete with crowded outdoor seating and mugs full of WHAT SAM can only hope is coffee.]

iced or hot?

Edited (I can't believe I missed the pun the first time) 2017-06-21 13:53 (UTC)

[Pirates might have been less likely to get caught and hanged if they could send text messages. Also, imagine the gossip on the high seas.

Things Nate thinks of but doesn't say.]

lukewarm

[Which is a terrible way to take your coffee.]

Edited 2017-06-21 15:50 (UTC)

cream and sugar?

[It's hard to keep this game light when neither of the participants are in the mood, but Sam tries anyway. He takes some time to grab two coffees at said cafe before moving on and following the tree lined street until he reaches the entrance to a park.

God, he hopes Nathan isn't somewhere in there. It could take hours to find him. He takes a picture of the entrance and sends it.]

Ye who enter here?

[Somehow, the "Abandon all hope" part doesn't seem like the best thing to say in this situation.]

[Nate doesn't have hope. The fact that the resurges exist means it's there, some precious thing floating in front of him that he doesn't dare turn his back on. But he can't touch it either, doesn't dare take it and cling to it. He feels like the news of Elena's death half killed him, too, and daring to hope only to have that hope dashed would take him the rest of the way.]

warm.

[Sam's not dead, though. The only person who's known him since the day he was born is alive and here and worried, and that's the only reason he doesn't lie when the snapshot of this park appears on his TAB.]

[Of course he's in there. When something was really bothering him he always tended to seclude himself in some way. Grow quiet, disappear to be by himself. The problem was there were hundreds of places he could be hiding in the park, and this was not the time to let him seep in his thoughts.

Into the fray, then.]

how warm we talking here like a match or flowing lava?

[He wonders if there's some kind of GPS on this thing that could show him his location. He tries to fiddle with his TAB as he follows the path deeper into the park, stopping at a fork in the road. He sends a picture of it.]

Dismas or Gestas?

[Which is his way of asking left or right?]

camp fire.

[It's inevitable that Sam will show up and interrupt his tree solitude. Doesn't matter what photos he sends over the TAB—even if Sam were halfway across the planet, he'd keep going and going until he found him.

It's a brother thing.]

hang a dismas and then go gestas at the benches.

[Might as well help along the inevitable. It's comforting, as much as anything can be comforting now. And while Nate doesn't especially want to be around people, he also doesn't especially want to be alone. There's not much he does want, beyond the tragically obvious.]

[That's a relief. A campfire is better than iced or lukewarm. Sam turns left, keeping his eye out for any signs of his brother as he nears the benches and turns right. His eyes scan the area, trying to locate the familiar form of his brother. He's just about to try texting him again when he sees someone sitting in a tree a little bit ahead of him.

Thank God.

Sam takes his time approaching--let him have a few moments more of solitude before he interrupts. As he reaches the base of the tree, he looks up at his brother.]

Hey. Guessing the floor's lava?

[A poor joke, but he says it anyway. He nods up at him, raises a coffee cup in invitation.]

Got some room up there for one more?

[Doesn't take long. Nate feels like even if he hadn't given Sam directions, he'd recognize the approaching footsteps.]

Hey.

[He tries to crack a small smile, just to let Sam know he recognizes the joke, but nah. His smile muscles are out of commission.]

Maybe just one.

[Honestly, if Nate had wanted him to, he would have left him alone to grieve in the tree. Maybe take a seat at one of the benches a little ways back and keep an eye on him from afar. The fact that he agrees to let him sit with him is a good sign in Sam's opinion, and he approaches, handing Nate's coffee up to him before he starts climbing.]

Cream, sugar, lukewarm just like you like it.

[It's easier to climb a tree when one of your hands is empty. Sam hauls himself up, trying not to spill the contents of his own coffee cup as he settles on the branch next to Nate's.]

Got a pretty good view up here.

[After all this time, Sam still remembers how he wants his coffee. Nate takes it, because his brother can't climb up with both cups, but doesn't drink it right away.

He's quiet for a moment before answering.]

Yeah. Looks pretty nice.

[Like everyone's happy. At peace. Not alone.]

Yeah, get a few boards, put some walls up...could get a decent tree house up here.

[He pats the branch he's sitting on, and waves a hand lazily in front of him like he's trying to paint the picture for him. He lets his hand fall then, sitting in silence for a little bit. He takes a tentative sip from his coffee before looking at Nathan.]

You been here long?

Dunno. Probably.

[He's lost track of time. Since he found out, the seconds have frozen in place and flown past with astounding speed. Both things are true somehow.]

I'm thinking of just staying up here.

[Sam nods slowly, lips pressing together and eyebrows raising as if he were saying "okay, seems feasible," although he's pretty sure they both know that he's just humoring him.]

Good view, not too many neighbors around--I could see it. Live a nice solitary life up here.

[He makes a show of looking around at their surroundings.]

Not many good food options around though. Pretty sure sleeping on these branches is gonna get real painful after a night or two too.

[It's joking-but-not-joking for both of them. Sam's humoring him, but it's not funny, and dealing with the tough stuff by talking around it only works for the two of t hem the vast majority of the time.

This is just one of those exceptional circumstances, Nate guesses.]

I'll take the branch pain over sleeping on cushions and waking up to see she's not there.

[Sam doesn't say anything in response. There isn't much he can say to something like that, and he supposes it was just a matter of time before they got to the crux of the issue here.

The Drake brothers are no stranger to loss, but Sam can count the number of people who actually mattered on one hand. Although he wasn't as close, he knows Elena is one of them.

Sam looks at Nathan, then scoots closer, resting his hand on the back of his neck and giving it a tight squeeze. It's not entirely comforting, he knows, but hopefully it's enough to let him know that he's there for him.]

[The closer presence, the hand on his neck, it's welcome but he doesn't give any sign of feeling comforted by any of it. Can't, really.]

Kinda feels like I had it coming. [He lets out a long, shaky breath.] You know, I left her once? Walked out on our marriage. We were having problems—I was having problems because I was trying so damn hard to live up to Drake and didn't know how to stop. Lodged my head right up my ass, but she took me back.

I know that's not how it works, I know it's not about me, but I didn't see what I had and now I don't have it anymore.

[It's strange, but the news that Nate had walked out on Elena takes him by surprise. It's not like they haven't walked out on people before: girls in bars who were hoping for a little more than just a one night stand, clients who were proving too difficult or untrustworthy to work with, rich assholes who didn't deserve Avery's treasure. It runs in the family, so to speak, and yet for some reason he would have never thought that Nathan would do it to his wife. Maybe because of the way he's seen them interact with one another while they've all been here, or the way he had acted when Rafe told him the truth about Alcazar. They seemed to really get along, and he knows his brother enough to understand that if he did marry someone, decide to stick around with them, then they must be worth it.

It doesn't matter now, some morbid part of him thinks. What does matter is the state his brother is in. As soon as Nathan finishes, Sam closes what little distance there is between them, hand sliding from the back of his neck across to his far shoulder in a grip that's even tighter than before.]

Hey, hey, you listen to me. Don't you start thinking like that. You didn't cause any of this to happen, and you sure as hell didn't have it coming or deserve it. If anyone's to blame it's those bastards who brought us here in the first place. Sure, you guys may have had problems, but who doesn't? Listen--[He leans forward a little so he can get a better view of Nathan's face and make sure he understands.]--this is not on you, Nathan.

[He can't even look at Sam to see his reaction. It's something he'd never wanted his brother to know—the thing he's most ashamed of, hurting the person he loved most and abandoning his responsibilities to her in order to chase an identity that was never his. Not that Sam could glean any of that from the brief confession; all he knows is that Nate had been selfish jackass. Ultimately, that's all that had mattered. No excuses.

Of course it doesn't matter to Sam in the end. He never really expected anything but support from his big brother, who's always been there for him when he could be.]

I know. I know, it's just... [He sighs.] Hell, I don't know. I'm thinking myself in circles.

[What else is there to do, with Elena gone?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

text; + action options; (cw character death)

no subject

no subject

no subject

haha a+ pun

thank you thank you

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject