You're all my friends

[totallytrustworthy]

Date & Time: Before groundhogging it or after depending on preference
Location: Exsilium proper/ wilderness/ various
Characters: Chloe Frazer and you as a fond farewell
Summary: a year and a half of thievery and trouble hits its last few notes
Warnings: VIOLENCE some of it

A: E x s i l i u m 

She's back to normal now. Residual lacquer stuck to her nails, hair still neatly trimmed at the edges and her trousers aren't the dirt-stained mess left behind of a little over a year's worth of close calls and fire fights, but she is herself again, and whatever magic that Facilier had carefully stuck in under her skin with a few nice words and a friendly gesture have-- for the most part-- been shaken off. Which is to say it's almost dysphoric having to readjust after being recalibrated so completely that even her old routines and habits feel unfamiliar: walking to the market to trade off another batch of heavy (only slightly roughed-up) furs is something more akin to watching video of the ground shifting forward, of footsteps in the snow and crowds filtering off out of focus.

Doesn't feel like there's weight in her arms or the sting of bitter cold on her cheeks.

Doesn't even feel like she's capable of recognizing any of the familiar faces she passes-- and she does pass them: without a second thought or even the uncertain shift of her attention that comes from purposefully dodging someone close.

How bloody rude. Particularly when she's not careful enough to keep from clipping the occasional passerby.


B: E x s i l i u m   w i l d s

This, though. This is where she flourishes. These days, anyway. After too much time spent snagged on emotions and vital decisions, solitude and silent snowfall are more comforting than things like central heating or idle banter. Simple tasks are easy to fixate on (pull wire, wrap twig, bend branch, insert bait and wait), numbing pinpricks running just under layers of insulated clothing precede pain from too many hours of it spent out in the cold. Veins going tight in an effort to cling to any remaining heat. Unappealing, unattractive, inhospitable work.

And Chloe's smiling to herself through the chilled cracks of her frost-split lip as she goes about it.

Not that most people would feel right at home in a yeti-infested wilderness.

C: Wildcard

OOC: pick a different scenario or location, whichever suits you best, and we'll make it happen!



 

Comments

[cyphered]

He doesn't get lost in the train of thought. How could he? Nate knows better by now. He just chuckles at her comment and shakes his head a little. "Some of them," he agrees. "But I bet you ten bucks you've never conned your way into a five star more than once."

He'll give her ass the benefit of the doubt and give her the once, because he's not a complete ass. In truth, he still has only half an idea as to what she and Charlie had been up to here in Exsilium while he was...doing whatever he was doing. Time travel still made zero sense to him.

And that was ignoring the fact that he (and Elena) had been here once before, and that he had no memory of it.

[totallytrustworthy]

"You don't even have ten bucks to bet." Which is the best defense against her knee jerk reaction which is to tell him exactly how many times she's done it and precisely how well.

Meaning she'd miss a shot at ten dollars.

[cyphered]

There's a brief pause. "Ok yeah, so what?" he blurts somewhat abruptly. "Its not like anyone's keeping score."

[totallytrustworthy]

"Oh so that's not what this is about?" Insert one look of feigned surprise here. "And here I thought you were looking for yet another win to stash away in that belt of yours."

[cyphered]

"Could you blame me? Its a sad looking belt sometimes," he chuckles, finally slowing his pace once he catches up to her again. "Don't tell Sully I said that, I'll never hear the end of it."

[totallytrustworthy]

"Believe me, after the month we've had he and I are going to be skipping the touchier subjects."

Nathan Drake's belt: a touchy subject.

[cyphered]

Nate starts to laugh, but some thought trips him up and he has to stop and ask himself who its a touchy subject for (besides himself) and also why.

Just as he's about to ask for clarification, he decides he doesn't want to know and shakes his head. "Well, at least the month is almost over, right? Who knows. Maybe they'll pick somewhere warm next time. Somewhere warm that isn't a volcano or the sun."

Because knowing their transportation habits...

[totallytrustworthy]

These days? There's little that isn't between them-- at least as far as Chloe's concerned. Disaster's keen to put a strain on their relationship, and considering the fact that it's all been a solid chain since his arrival, she can't blame Victor for feeling a touch wary of what she throws his way.

"Well I hear hell's nice this time of year."

[cyphered]

Nate laughs a bit awkwardly at that, making a bit of a face. Nobody is a fan of facing their own mortality, after all -- especially not after all the close calls he's been through.

He knows she isn't threatening him, but something in the back of his head flinches anyway.

"Hasn't been all that long since my last visit," he reminds her, waving a very 'no fucking thank you' hand with a bit of a forced scoff. "And its got some special screening requirements that I'm missing and not looking to meet again anytime soon."

It comes out a little more clipped than he means for it to, but he's still a bit sore about his last close call. He didn't have enough to show for his life to walk into any sort of waiting afterlife (or lack there of).

[totallytrustworthy]

"Darling, you'll be fine. Trust me." Doesn't take a genius or a psychiatrist to follow what has him all tense at the seams, after all; she's careful to look at him when she says it.

"You always are."

[cyphered]

His expression is mixed as ever when she happens to look at him -- a bit of offense, a bit of relief, some discomfort and a bit of sudden exhaustion. Whatever thought has him preoccupied eventually flutters off, and Nate's signature light smile of surrender fixes itself on his face.

"Always am," he echoes. He moves the weight to his other arm and cuffs her lightly with his now-free-hand as he strides forward again. "Still not going though."

[totallytrustworthy]

It's welcome contact, expressed without hesitation through one light huff as he brushes past. "Please." If she took her coffee the way she took her humor, it'd be black and bitter and bleak as anything. "You can't expect me to believe that when you habitually keep one foot out the door."

[cyphered]

"Cut me some slack, will you?" he scoffs, turning around and walking backward. Its a struggle not to trip and he bumps into someone more than once with a muttered apology every now and then. But that doesn't stop him from doing it anyway. "I don't go looking for all that trouble, you know. At least eighty percent of the time, it jumps on my back."

And the other twenty percent...well yeah, maybe he was a little suicidal, but he's not going to admit that. He's still on a mission, after all.

[totallytrustworthy]

It's bait she doesn't bite into: lips pursed, eyebrows raised. Really, Nate? Eighty percent of the time?

[cyphered]

"..what? What! Eighty's a good number," he answers defensively.

[totallytrustworthy]

"Too good a number, actually." One hard tug fighting the corner of her mouth-- definitely trying not to smile as she ducks around one of Nate's tagged pedestrians.

[cyphered]

"I think its a fair number," he comments with a pouting curl to his lip. He spins around and nearly loses balance as she ducks out of sight.

[totallytrustworthy]

"Well that's because you think anything in your favor is fair." He wins that smile in the end-- once his back is turned, at least.

[cyphered]

"Oh I'd just love to hear your angle on this," he comments dramatically, turning back to follow her. "This oughta be good."

[totallytrustworthy]

"Uh-uh. I don't think so." Sharply angled brows peek out at him from beneath one heap of heavy fur. "You never wanted to hear it before."

[cyphered]

"For a good reason, too," he adds, stopping his journey long enough to give her a look. "And if you're looking to give me an angle at all, maybe you should do it before I change my mind again."

His tone is a bit brusque, but one eyebrow raises very slowly and expectantly in its oh-so-charming fashion.

"You've obviously got something you want to say. So let's hear it."

[totallytrustworthy]

That stops her dead in her tracks, briefly, before she dips her chin and tosses out a nod. One cast towards the merchant beside her, rather than at him. "We're here."

And to prove that point the furs are dropped unceremoniously down on the heap of fur just outside the worn wood and metal of the stall.

[cyphered]

Nate just stands in the middle of the road with the furs and stares for a long moment, like he's about to snap at her for dodging the point, before he just follows like a lost dog and mimics her motion. There's a brief, studious study of his wares before he turns back to Chloe.

"Nice angle," he offers to concede defeat. Its slightly sarcastic, but not enough to start a fight. He's really tired of that.

[totallytrustworthy]

"Come on." Tired as he is-- as they both are-- she's not fighting him, either. Tosses out a gentle pat to the dead center of his lower back as a sign he ought to follow when she presses through thinning crowds to a quieter snowbank not that far out. Settles down where it's dense enough to support her weight without caving. More ice than snow, really. It's a long beat before she bothers picking up where they'd last let off. Before she carefully studies the angles of his features as if searching for familiar landmarks.

"You've changed."

[cyphered]

Whether or not she means it that way, the contact is a comfort. Its nice to be reminded that they're not fighting anymore, even if it feels like they are sometimes at odds. Nate suspects that's mostly his imagination talking -- after all, its been said a million and one times that there are years between them. Years he doesn't have.

He's almost fine with it. The unpredictability of it is both exciting and daunting, especially with others having knowledge of his future before he does.

"You think?"

He says it without thinking much. There is only that brief pause and wrinkle of doubt before he considers what she has said. Its not sarcastic, but curious. He can't possibly imagine changing much -- not here, where everything relied on playing catch up as fast as possible.

Chloe has sat down, so he decides to do the same. This is obviously going to be a potentially long conversation, so he crosses his legs and leans back on both hands to talk to her.

"I don't know about that -- hasn't been that long."

Not compared to the time they spent apart, long before all this nonsense.