- Pronouns
- He/Him
As written by @Dashmiel & @Cowpoke Cale
As Nadel waited, she couldn’t help but appreciate the full frontal assault occurring on her various senses. Years of seeing the same faces and smelling the same places had made them complacent, and she smiled against the wind that had begun to kick up and the scents it carried.
She smelled the trees, and tried to isolate them by their varieties in an attempt to hone the sense once more. For the oaks there was the cherrybark, the cow, the nutall, the overcup, post, sawtooth, shumard, white, and willow. As she took in the scent of water that the trees held, and the decay of the leaves beneath them, she picked up on another familiar scent with the next breeze.
Meat. No, more than just meat. Seared meat. Salt, pepper, olive oil, and was that mustard?
Giorgio’s. That meant two things. The first thing it meant was that her ride was finally here, and the second thing it meant was that they were sorry for being so late. She smirked at that. It had to be Ragenard.
She turned her head upwind and could suddenly hear the source approaching. Soon enough, the headlights of the vehicle twinkled into view. A few moments of waiting more, and it was parked in front of her while her suspicions of Ragenard and his apologies were confirmed as reality.
The bag with the sandwich, naturally, was snatched with an unholy quickness the moment it was within reach. Fiercely ravenous and overcome with the desire to eat food that wasn’t some prison kitchen science experience, she finished it off in a personal record low amount of bites.
Standing and wiping the juices from her fingers on the shoddy pants the prison had issued her, she finally took the time to acknowledge Ragenard in full capacity, a devilish grin on her face at the prospect of having made him wait.
“You sure know how to broker peace, Rage. It’s too bad we couldn’t have just used those sandwiches to solve our problems eight years go, eh? Fuckin’ right!” A humored scoff escaped her lips as she approached the passenger side of the vehicle.
“Well, let’s go then! You can eat yours on the way. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, I’m sure.”
“Can’t speak for the sandwiches solving all of our problems back then,” muttered Ragenard with a smirk. “Maybe an extra dose of your lady-like manner could have done it.” he added as he slid in behind the wheel.
For a long few seconds, he made no move to start the engine, merely sat there drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Listen…,” he began, reaching underneath his seat to pull out another brown paper bag. This one wasn’t greasy.
He handed it over, along with the other bag holding the sandwich and settled in further back in his seat, still making no attempts to move.
“You’re damn right we got a lot to catch up on...beginning with that recidivism in a bag you got there.” he said seriously, his tone deadpanning from the near mirth he’d displayed a few seconds ago.
“‘Recidivism’,” she echoed back to him, “there you go already with the words I don’t know. Maybe I should have spent more of that time reading, uh, whatddya call em’ again? With the pages and stuff? Oh yeah, BOOKS.” Her own spirits muted themselves at a similar rate to Ragenard’s as she looked inside the bag he had handed her.
There was a pistol, a small prepaid burner, and what looked like a tidy little sum of cash. She made a mental note to buy herself some better digs later and then gathered the context clues.
“Ah.”
She placed it in her lap as she maneuvered to open the bag containing the other sandwich and took a bite, smaller and slower this time. She savored it.
“So who do I gotta shoot?”
A small weight lifted itself from Ragenard’s gut at Nadel’s response. It wasn’t a very heavy one to begin with. Eight and a half year wasn’t that long as it was, but he couldn’t lie to himself and pretend there wouldn’t be a chance that the time inside had changed her.
“Same old same fucking old,” spat Ragenard.
“Things were looking up while you were away, but as they’re wont to do, we’re right back where we’ve always been.”
He half turned in his seat towards her, an expression of resignation on his features. “Baron’s peace was a nice dream, but we had to wake up three days ago. He’s fucked up, but recovering. I’ve taken over, and I’m going for total annihilation when it comes to the Scions.”
“Peace has always been a nice dream, we both know that.”
She finished off the rest of the sandwich in silence as she contemplated the rest of what he had told her. As she folded the now empty bag neatly she made another mental note to locate a trash can at some point.
“I have to say, I’m a bit relieved that I’m coming back to something that’s familiar. Though, knowing you, I bet you anticipated that.” The fact that he had already revealed this, of course, was lost on her.
“You’re in charge now, huh? Total annihilation? Fuck, it’s like we’re young again. Can always depend on those fuckin’ Scions for some fun, I guess. Maybe it’s the steak sandwiches sweetening me up some, but consider me in. I mean, obviously. Maybe spare me some details just for the theatrics of it.”
Ragenard grinned and turned the engine over. As he smoothly navigated the still congested streets of Lutetia city, he recounted for Nadel’s benefit the events of the last few days.
The rescue attempt by the pack at the casino, as they headed out to get Jesse back. The ensuing skirmish that he was nearly too late to crash in. The low sinking of the Scions, resorting to even hiring vampires somehow. How they seemed to be expecting them before they even arrived. The burning of the Den and losing ground at Cascastel.
How if he hadn’t had his head up his own ass for the months preceding, he might have been able to do his actual job at enforcing shit.
His tone slowly heated up as he continued.
Coming to his senses on the Med center, the ensuing chaos, the arrival of the Iverians, and the embarrassing reminder of his fuck up by Desmond. His winning the challenge and assuming leadership.
And finally, his hackles nearly literally raised as his eyes shimmered a sickly mixture of yellow and electric blue while he struggled to contain his anger: Jacques.
“It was fucking Jacques who turned out to have betrayed us after all that,” he nearly roared as he took an aggressive turn into a side street.
“Won’t ever know exactly why, over than he was always a jealous prick. But we tracked him to a Scion warehouse in their turf. By tracked I mean we found a giant bloodstain and little bits of meat that used to be him.” he said with some small measure of satisfaction.
“His reward from Rowan I suppose. What the dumbshit deserved,” he slowed down and parked down the side of the street. They were in one of the shadier parts of Vargeras, home turf.
“Gotta take care of some business, switch the ride and get something for tomorrow. But yeah, that’s what you missed out on.”
Now that they had come to a stop, Nadel had a moment to process it all; the events, Ragenard’s reaction as he narrated them, his aggressive driving.
“My first car ride after so long and you remind me why I’m fuckin’ terrified of vehicles. You could have killed me!” She paused. “Wait, could you have killed me? Could that even kill us? I’ve been literally stuck in a cage for eight years, I kind of forget my limitations.” Cracking jokes was her defense mechanism to pretty much anything.
“That’s a lot to happen in two days. Sure as hell dwarves anything I’d be able to tell you about my time. Ya know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were blaming yourself for a lot of it. It’s been a while, so maybe it’s not my place anymore, but I thought you’d get over that kinda shit.”
She cleared her throat, intent to move on quickly and leave him little time to respond.
“Anyway, what’s this ‘business’? What’s tomorrow?”
He gratefully took the out he’d given her, and quickly moved to respond to her last questions. He knew she’d understand both that he got her jokes, and that she knew he’d be shitty at any sort of disclosure of feelings. Always had been.
“So you can’t say I never take you anywhere,” he replied cheerfully.
“We’re taking a road trip to Iveria tomorrow. To pick up some heavy duty gear, and hopefully talk Papa Mac into doing business with us again and not fill me up with lead. Need a low key ride for a bunch of misfits crossing the border.”
Her excitement at the mention of a road trip was quickly extinguished by the small amount of dread that the mention of Iveria conjured. That was a fiasco and a half, and a blast to the past she had hoped to avoid for at least a couple of weeks. Was that really so much to ask? At Papa Mac, she let out a groan. A lament for herself, both in the past and in her inevitably complicated future.
“How can you sound so cheerful? Take me back to the prison. Now. Shit, Rage. Are we really doing this tomorrow? Like tomorrow tomorrow?” She went through all the stages of grief in a manner of a few moments as she rambled at him.
“I want at least two more guns.”
Ragenard let out a genuine chuckle as he reached for the release clasp on his seat belt. “It’s good to have you back, Nad,” he exclaimed sincerely.
“Welcome back to the life.”
As Nadel waited, she couldn’t help but appreciate the full frontal assault occurring on her various senses. Years of seeing the same faces and smelling the same places had made them complacent, and she smiled against the wind that had begun to kick up and the scents it carried.
She smelled the trees, and tried to isolate them by their varieties in an attempt to hone the sense once more. For the oaks there was the cherrybark, the cow, the nutall, the overcup, post, sawtooth, shumard, white, and willow. As she took in the scent of water that the trees held, and the decay of the leaves beneath them, she picked up on another familiar scent with the next breeze.
Meat. No, more than just meat. Seared meat. Salt, pepper, olive oil, and was that mustard?
Giorgio’s. That meant two things. The first thing it meant was that her ride was finally here, and the second thing it meant was that they were sorry for being so late. She smirked at that. It had to be Ragenard.
She turned her head upwind and could suddenly hear the source approaching. Soon enough, the headlights of the vehicle twinkled into view. A few moments of waiting more, and it was parked in front of her while her suspicions of Ragenard and his apologies were confirmed as reality.
The bag with the sandwich, naturally, was snatched with an unholy quickness the moment it was within reach. Fiercely ravenous and overcome with the desire to eat food that wasn’t some prison kitchen science experience, she finished it off in a personal record low amount of bites.
Standing and wiping the juices from her fingers on the shoddy pants the prison had issued her, she finally took the time to acknowledge Ragenard in full capacity, a devilish grin on her face at the prospect of having made him wait.
“You sure know how to broker peace, Rage. It’s too bad we couldn’t have just used those sandwiches to solve our problems eight years go, eh? Fuckin’ right!” A humored scoff escaped her lips as she approached the passenger side of the vehicle.
“Well, let’s go then! You can eat yours on the way. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, I’m sure.”
“Can’t speak for the sandwiches solving all of our problems back then,” muttered Ragenard with a smirk. “Maybe an extra dose of your lady-like manner could have done it.” he added as he slid in behind the wheel.
For a long few seconds, he made no move to start the engine, merely sat there drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Listen…,” he began, reaching underneath his seat to pull out another brown paper bag. This one wasn’t greasy.
He handed it over, along with the other bag holding the sandwich and settled in further back in his seat, still making no attempts to move.
“You’re damn right we got a lot to catch up on...beginning with that recidivism in a bag you got there.” he said seriously, his tone deadpanning from the near mirth he’d displayed a few seconds ago.
“‘Recidivism’,” she echoed back to him, “there you go already with the words I don’t know. Maybe I should have spent more of that time reading, uh, whatddya call em’ again? With the pages and stuff? Oh yeah, BOOKS.” Her own spirits muted themselves at a similar rate to Ragenard’s as she looked inside the bag he had handed her.
There was a pistol, a small prepaid burner, and what looked like a tidy little sum of cash. She made a mental note to buy herself some better digs later and then gathered the context clues.
“Ah.”
She placed it in her lap as she maneuvered to open the bag containing the other sandwich and took a bite, smaller and slower this time. She savored it.
“So who do I gotta shoot?”
A small weight lifted itself from Ragenard’s gut at Nadel’s response. It wasn’t a very heavy one to begin with. Eight and a half year wasn’t that long as it was, but he couldn’t lie to himself and pretend there wouldn’t be a chance that the time inside had changed her.
“Same old same fucking old,” spat Ragenard.
“Things were looking up while you were away, but as they’re wont to do, we’re right back where we’ve always been.”
He half turned in his seat towards her, an expression of resignation on his features. “Baron’s peace was a nice dream, but we had to wake up three days ago. He’s fucked up, but recovering. I’ve taken over, and I’m going for total annihilation when it comes to the Scions.”
“Peace has always been a nice dream, we both know that.”
She finished off the rest of the sandwich in silence as she contemplated the rest of what he had told her. As she folded the now empty bag neatly she made another mental note to locate a trash can at some point.
“I have to say, I’m a bit relieved that I’m coming back to something that’s familiar. Though, knowing you, I bet you anticipated that.” The fact that he had already revealed this, of course, was lost on her.
“You’re in charge now, huh? Total annihilation? Fuck, it’s like we’re young again. Can always depend on those fuckin’ Scions for some fun, I guess. Maybe it’s the steak sandwiches sweetening me up some, but consider me in. I mean, obviously. Maybe spare me some details just for the theatrics of it.”
Ragenard grinned and turned the engine over. As he smoothly navigated the still congested streets of Lutetia city, he recounted for Nadel’s benefit the events of the last few days.
The rescue attempt by the pack at the casino, as they headed out to get Jesse back. The ensuing skirmish that he was nearly too late to crash in. The low sinking of the Scions, resorting to even hiring vampires somehow. How they seemed to be expecting them before they even arrived. The burning of the Den and losing ground at Cascastel.
How if he hadn’t had his head up his own ass for the months preceding, he might have been able to do his actual job at enforcing shit.
His tone slowly heated up as he continued.
Coming to his senses on the Med center, the ensuing chaos, the arrival of the Iverians, and the embarrassing reminder of his fuck up by Desmond. His winning the challenge and assuming leadership.
And finally, his hackles nearly literally raised as his eyes shimmered a sickly mixture of yellow and electric blue while he struggled to contain his anger: Jacques.
“It was fucking Jacques who turned out to have betrayed us after all that,” he nearly roared as he took an aggressive turn into a side street.
“Won’t ever know exactly why, over than he was always a jealous prick. But we tracked him to a Scion warehouse in their turf. By tracked I mean we found a giant bloodstain and little bits of meat that used to be him.” he said with some small measure of satisfaction.
“His reward from Rowan I suppose. What the dumbshit deserved,” he slowed down and parked down the side of the street. They were in one of the shadier parts of Vargeras, home turf.
“Gotta take care of some business, switch the ride and get something for tomorrow. But yeah, that’s what you missed out on.”
Now that they had come to a stop, Nadel had a moment to process it all; the events, Ragenard’s reaction as he narrated them, his aggressive driving.
“My first car ride after so long and you remind me why I’m fuckin’ terrified of vehicles. You could have killed me!” She paused. “Wait, could you have killed me? Could that even kill us? I’ve been literally stuck in a cage for eight years, I kind of forget my limitations.” Cracking jokes was her defense mechanism to pretty much anything.
“That’s a lot to happen in two days. Sure as hell dwarves anything I’d be able to tell you about my time. Ya know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were blaming yourself for a lot of it. It’s been a while, so maybe it’s not my place anymore, but I thought you’d get over that kinda shit.”
She cleared her throat, intent to move on quickly and leave him little time to respond.
“Anyway, what’s this ‘business’? What’s tomorrow?”
He gratefully took the out he’d given her, and quickly moved to respond to her last questions. He knew she’d understand both that he got her jokes, and that she knew he’d be shitty at any sort of disclosure of feelings. Always had been.
“So you can’t say I never take you anywhere,” he replied cheerfully.
“We’re taking a road trip to Iveria tomorrow. To pick up some heavy duty gear, and hopefully talk Papa Mac into doing business with us again and not fill me up with lead. Need a low key ride for a bunch of misfits crossing the border.”
Her excitement at the mention of a road trip was quickly extinguished by the small amount of dread that the mention of Iveria conjured. That was a fiasco and a half, and a blast to the past she had hoped to avoid for at least a couple of weeks. Was that really so much to ask? At Papa Mac, she let out a groan. A lament for herself, both in the past and in her inevitably complicated future.
“How can you sound so cheerful? Take me back to the prison. Now. Shit, Rage. Are we really doing this tomorrow? Like tomorrow tomorrow?” She went through all the stages of grief in a manner of a few moments as she rambled at him.
“I want at least two more guns.”
Ragenard let out a genuine chuckle as he reached for the release clasp on his seat belt. “It’s good to have you back, Nad,” he exclaimed sincerely.
“Welcome back to the life.”