{ inbox } hadriel

[nonscriptum]

This is Nate, you know what to do. I'll get back to you.

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[nonscriptum]

[ Nate shuts the door behind him as he enters, turning to watch Five move across the room, set his bag down with a pragmatism that many would aspire to, and make arbitrary small-talk. He leans against their lone chest of drawers, raising his eyebrows. ]

Hope you weren't digging for remains.

[fogey]

[ his blazer is settled on the bag once again -- not the floor, he's not an animal!! -- and it's as he's straightening back up that nate's not-a-question registers. ]

Don't be ridiculous.

[ sharply, but not meant to cut. ]

If there's anyone worth digging up, I haven't heard about 'em yet.

[ yeah that's the problem here. ]

[nonscriptum]

[ Arms folded over his chest, he tries (and fails) to suppress a wide smile and the evident tone of amusement that accompanies it. ]

Yeah, and usually when I'm grave-robbing I pick a different outfit.

[fogey]

[ he shrugs, leaning back against the windowsill. ]

It's just clothes.

[ why NOT wear fussy clothing when doing anything, honestly. ]

But if I find any real graves, I'll defer to your expertise.

[ operative word being real. he's keenly aware of what's just outside the window, behind his back. ]

[nonscriptum]

Kind of you.

[ Tongue in cheek, emphasis on the cheek. Nate watches him for another long second before speaking again. ]

...So if you weren't looking for something, what were you burying?

[fogey]

Supplies.

[ then shrugs. ]

Eventually, anyway. Think of it as a fail-safe, just in case.

[ gene had wanted to keep the location private, but they'd discussed the idea on the network publicly enough. ]

Right now, the town's just screwing with our minds, but that's not going to last forever. Next problem we face might be harder to survive.

[nonscriptum]

[ It's reasonable. Practical, even, in a way he acknowledges with a nod of approval, because it sounds very survival-oriented, and in these unpredictable times it's a preparedness he can respect. ]

Oh, I can almost guarantee that.

[ Hadriel was the same way. When it wasn't throwing emotionally manipulative curve balls, it was warping the landscape and environment just to fuck with them. ]

[fogey]

[ he nods towards the window, says, ]

You ever see anything like that happen in Hadriel?

[nonscriptum]

Exactly like that? No.

[ He huffs a laugh, something bitter at the edges, and levels a look at him. ]

But it did once conjure up ghosts of loved ones that would slowly kill us by feeding on our energy unless we killed them first.

1/2

[fogey]

[ he can't help it: he imagines it, for just a second. his eyes go wide, hands curling into fists. ]

Shit.

[ maybe he wears that reaction too obviously, for him, but aren't they all rattled, right now? ]

[fogey]

[ miscalculation. he'd never considered hadriel might be as fucked up as this place, or more so. ]

You should make a list, if you haven't already. There could be similarities between what those so-called gods pulled and what the Lighthouse Keeper has planned.

[nonscriptum]

Two years' worth of events is a lot.

[ Nate points out, not unkindly. The suggestion isn't an impractical one in theory, but even Nate doesn't remember everything that happened to them, and he doesn't have the sketchbooks and notes he kept while he was there. ]

I could write something up, but don't expect it to be totally comprehensive.

[ Just thinking about putting them on paper again feels like reliving the experience. ]

[fogey]

Anything is better than nothing.

[ if he were nicer, he might think twice on the suggestion or at least apologize. he isn't, doesn't. he shifts his weight a little, says, ]

I want to be prepared. Anything can happen to us --

[ in moving, he'd knocked his foot into his jacket just enough to jostle the pockets. something small and round falls out, hits the floor with a thud and starts rolling. ]

[nonscriptum]

[ It's valid, and Nate's main reservations are restricted to his ability to remember every traumatic event when he's the sort of person to bury them, deep. He opens his mouth to agree when Five shifts, something is bumped, and a small orb falls out of a jacket pocket and rolls across the floor before gently tapping the toe of his boot.

Nate stoops to pick it up before he can help himself, an ingrained need to handle anything shiny reaching for the white marble that he realizes is a glass eye as soon as it hits the light of his lantern.

He raises an eyebrow as he straightens up again, turning the iris in Five's direction. ]

So...this is creepy.

[fogey]

[ by force of fucking habit, he tries to teleport. fails, obviously, reality distorting around him briefly.

snaps out, ]

Don't touch that!

[ and stalks across the room to retrieve it, thank you very much ]

[nonscriptum]

Whoa, hey-

[ Perhaps unintentionally, Nate retreats in the only way he physically can: by lifting his arm higher than Five can reach. While the abortive attempt as transportation is weird - enlightening, but maybe not in a good way, are his powers so limited? and why? - it's weirder still that Five is feral for a glass eyeball. ]

I'm not gonna break it.

[fogey]

No, because what you're going to do is give it back right now.

[ it's stupid, that he cares so much about the goddamn eyeball. it almost certainly belongs to harold jenkins; he knows that now, and his siblings do too. the thing has served its purpose. he followed the lead to meritech, learned what little he could, and then the trail went cold.

well, it went up in flames. thanks hazel, cha cha.

it's worthless now. a hunk of glass that tells him nothing, got him nowhere. there's no more information he can possibly mine from it. he should've thrown it away after meritech burned. he should've thrown it away after getting that slip of paper from the commission. he could've thrown it away here, after dying, for chrissake.

but that stupid eyeball has been his lifeline since he was thirteen, was his reminder over the years and years and years that there was a job he needed to do. had to keep going, had to survive, had to get home. had to find this asshole and kill him before he kills everyone.

nate wouldn't break it, not on purpose, and it wouldn't even matter if he did. but five feels a stab of irrational panic anyway.

he says, low, angry, ]

I swear to God, Nathan, I know ten ways I could kill you right now, without breaking a sweat. Hand it over.

[nonscriptum]

[ There is a level of familiarity in friendships at which point threats are not taken seriously, because the friend in question has no design to shiv you unless said in jest. They are not yet at this level of friendship, as evidenced by Five's sudden and vehement ire, and the fact that Nate one-hundred percent believes the guy will open him up right here in his own room.

It occurs to him he would have reacted the same way, once, if the threat of losing Drake's ring were ever hovering over him. He did react this way, once. So much of his identity was tied to it, and this little marble means something. ]

Okay.

[ He says, placating, immediately pushing it into Five's hand. ]

I get it, okay, no need to leave a mess for Wash and Kyna to clean up.

[fogey]

Christ's sake.

[ he grabs it back, turning around to walk back towards the window with a huff. he doesn't pocket the eyeball again immediately, though, rolls it through his fingers like he's done for decades. without turning around, he says, ]

Don't ask about it, and I won't ask about your grave.

[ it's said like an offer, not a threat. tradeoff. ]

[nonscriptum]

Wow.

[ Okay, deep cut, but an offer he'll happily accept. Nate has no intention of bringing up that specific brand of trauma, even if it's news to him that Five decided to look. Every person who's told him is a surprise. ]

All right. [ Hands up again briefly, before he drops them to his side. ] You want me to start the shower so it's not cold?

[fogey]

[ five pockets the eye as he turns back to look at nate and just.

give him a look.

and wordlessly walks over to the bathroom himself. ]