Natalie

You were a weapon. | I was a child.

She resolved herself such: she would seek out the Shards once more and join them, or else learn what they knew of the cult's intentions. And if she could not find them?

She would ensure no one could find 𝙝𝙚𝙧.

As she neared adulthood, her worst fears loomed larger: reports of the cult's resurgence became more frequent, tales of their vile acts more terrifying. When she could ignore her fears no longer, Natalie fled the monastery, leaving all she knew and had come to love far behind her.

Years of turmoil and horror had left her incapable of speech in all but the rarest of circumstances; even this could not hinder her, and the girl began to thrive.

The only dark cloud that seemed to linger was the deep fear of being found, of being taken again.

After one final rescue, it was decided that Natalie would be placed in a monastery of Tyr in hopes of better protection - and offering her the best life and education she could be granted. She lived out her teen years in relative peace and happiness with those her own age and mentors of good hearts.

Though her parents held her in no special regard as a beloved daughter, they, as the rest of the cult, seemed to wish something greater of her, and frequently cursed the do-gooders' interventions for setting back their plans.

Natalie bore witness to countless horrors in their care, seemingly by the cult's intent; clandestine rituals, sermons, and even sacrifices too often found in her an "unexpected" audience.

As the years passed, a bond formed between young Natalie and the now-familiar members of the Silver Shards, and as they traveled to safety, the adventurers would offer training in the ways of war and magic.

As for the cult and her family...

The cult ran afoul of many adventuring parties, and each rescue would see Natalie back to loving caretakers, for a time. The Shards found cult's trail most frequently and seemed to hold special determination to hunt this cult and their captive down.

Not a year past her rescue, though, she was stolen from her room in the dark of a moonless night, returned to her mother and father in the depths of another unholy sanctum.

Years passed in much the same way.

Following a daring assault by a band of young adventurers known as the Silver Shards, she was rescued from this vile order and placed in the care of a family of good standing.

Natalie's very life has been a matter of contention since before her earliest memories. Born to an unstable, cruel-hearted mother and a weak-willed father, she was raised in the stronghold of a secretive cult for the first few months of her life.

Dream-like– complete with that feeling of moving through molasses, unable to act as your mind begs to, of something being just out of place.

But it's no mystery what's wrong in this picture. Try as she might, she can't swallow the guilt.

The wound isn't bad enough that [he'd] worry about it, but she thinks it should still be treated. Without stopping to consider, she signs, "First aid kit still where it used to be?"

And immediately, she berates herself. She's overstepping. She [just] showed up.

Long hair looks good on him. She tries - again in vain - not to stare, to take all the time at a speedster's disposal to map the work of years.

He catches her at least once, when her gaze snaps to his displayed burn and her cheeks darken to match it.

Dream-like– being here doesn't feel entirely real. All her instincts seem like they'll send this scene tumbling into unreality, even as she follows the motions of them - searching the bags for nonexistent napkins and shaking fries out of hiding to drop them into open foam clamshells.

Rage won't save me but it will make me the only thing left.

In the blessedly still moment, the tension in her face eases into a small, nervous smile.

"Hi," she quietly answers. The seconds follow her voice, and she steadies her hands by signing, 'Are you okay? No injuries?'

what? Comfort? Looks? Before she can fret over what, exactly, she's doing here, she hears the telltale sound of his suit releasing, nearly the same as it had that first day he'd stepped out of it freely.

She looks up and locks eyes with him.

But no sooner is his suggestion made than done, the bags quickly unpacked on the rare clear surface. It's crowded, a little, but... comfortable, somehow, even with a speedster's anxiety running rampant.

She's fixing her wind-blown clothes back into place, having forgone function for...

Instants drag on too long before her. She reflects that she'd never managed this, to build a real life, in all the years she'd grasped at a normal existence in a town with a single damned traffic light.

And she wonders if she was holding him back in those years before she left.

He'd integrated himself into the world like she'd never seen him do before.

She'd missed every moment of it.

because no matter how clearly she sees him in every corner of these rooms, it's all achingly unfamiliar. In a building she should know like the back of her hand, she finds herself on an unsteady back foot.

Ten years. He'd joined a [band.]

There would be no doubt who owned this home, even if it hadn't once been her own; the dilapidated stairs were an issue he could easily fix, were they not an unhackable alarm system in their own right.

But it's hard not to waver once she's through that threshhold,

When she steps into his home, where he's the only familiar sight she immediately sees, she realizes she can't sign with full hands. A few awkward seconds pass, her face reddening faintly with embarrassment until she can manage to hold up the bags and ask,

"Where...?"

She hadn't been around to see him step into the light.

Ignoring the way that feeling keeps clutching at her heart, she climbs the stairs and juggles the bags to one arm, just for the instant he invites her in. She twists the knob, hip-checks the door open, and catches the bags in one quick motion.

She'd angled first for the bunker before noticing the flurry of movement in the apartment above. There's a sort of bittersweet pride in her when she realizes, thanks to the subtle signs of heightened security, that he's living there now. He's finally moved out of the shadows they hid in.

Np, genuinely hope she's just taking some time. She mentioned making a different account with the existing feeds.

Yes, spoke with her about 11 hours ago regarding her removal from a discord server for using a fake name/account while blocked by mods on her main account.

You know this, of course, but have a habit of representing the truth differently that how it actually occurs, noticeable even in the brief time since I've met you. People pieced it together pretty quickly and the cards fell where they fell. I hope you find a way to better interact moving forward.