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( never let it be said that caroline salvatore doesn't check in on her people. she lived in a small town all of her life and kept her friends close. she had two daughters. she is the friend that calls at the end of a week when you've been silent. she is the person that remembers something important happened and she calls to hear everything. she is also a mother who left her daughters to do good in the panic room while she crossed an ocean. in crossing that ocean, she missed out on the sacrifices that were made. but, she heard about them. people stayed behind, they fought, and they'd died.

lucifer bringing them back wouldn't change what happened.

but, she is out of the loop, especially with her more mercurial friends. she has been very daughter-focused. friend-focused. she thinks she's been guarding a powerful dark object. she's been taking care of those in different tents, passing out waters, and generally being a caretaker.

the ship is something completely different. it's almost as absurd as the spanish inquisition.

it's hard being in hell. keeping track of everyone you've met, care about, worry about, and try to get in touch with? well, that's always been a full time job, too. so some people slip through the cracks. she doesn't hate the ship. she splits her time equally helping do any good deeds or any cleaning up and enjoying herself. daughter time always takes precedence but they lived without her here for months, so her daughters also get space.

she'd meant to reach out, to message, something.

she'd hoped she'd run into nathan. this just isn't what she was anticipating. it's a sight she's seen before, just not from him. nathan dangerously close to the railing, empty bottles surrounding him. she frowns, stopping a few feet away. )

You should be careful, lost souls tend to claw their way up.

( and sad or not, drunk or not, quiet and as radio silent or not, nathan does not deserve to go overboard. )

I was going to ask where you've been, ( she was going to be cute and flirty and add 'stranger' on the end, but instead. she sighs. ) Nathan.

Yeah, well.

[lost souls tend to claw their way up. they already have, in a manner of speaking -- he's a little lost, and has been, since he died. since he came back. he knew, going in, that that was a risk, a likelihood, but he thought he'd get lucky. he'd thought he'd never see it coming, if he didn't. he'd thought it wouldn't hurt, that it would be okay, that he would be okay, and while he doesn't quite regret it -- well, he's not okay. he's not okay, he's a little drunk, yes, and as much as he wishes it would, all the alcohol in the world isn't fixing his laundry list of problems]

[damn it]

[sighing, he turns to face her, still draped over the railing, though now backwards, propped up on his elbows]

Sorry. I didn't mean to ...

[worry her? was she worried? was anyone? he died alone]

( worry her is also her first question, and he would've had everything else not been happening. life passes far too fast then it did in Mystic Falls. more happens in less time and then it feels like she has downtime in her life between crises. she hasn't adjusted to a different pattern of concerns. )

You didn't. Do anything to me. Now, though. I am, Nate.

( how can she not be? )

Can you tell me what happened?

[he reaches back for the beer he's currently working on, sitting on the railing a few inches away. rather than take a drink from it, though, he just cradles it in his hands -- something to focus on rather than her]

You really don't wanna know.

[she doesn't need the gory details of his death, even if it couldn't hurt to talk about it. nothing else is helping]

( she doesn't make any sudden movements. she knows he climbs. he explores. he's intrepid. he's balanced. but, startling him... )

Actually, I asked. And that usually means I do. If I didn't want to know, I'd leave you here among the bottles. But, if you don't want to talk about it, then we can go and get you cleaned up. Maybe recycle some of your dead soldiers.

[I'd leave you here among the bottles -- something about that stings, even if that's not what she's doing, even if she's still here. maybe it's because he's drunk. either way, he flinches visibly, and the yes, does take a drink of his beer]

[he resets then, resumes just cradling it. after a heartbeat, two, he shrugs]

I was on the wrong side of Mola Ram, this time.

[he wasn't Indiana Jones, this time. he was the guy who got his heart ripped out by the aforementioned cultist in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom]

Um -

( It seems like, at least now, with something breaking through, Caroline can approach, perch herself next to him so she can be close. Because she does want to hear him out. )

Is that a who or a, a weapon? ( It does occur to her. ) Did you stay behind?

Bad guy from one of the Indiana Jones movies. He --

[well, it's not ultimately that important, is it? he lets it go, then, on another heavy breath out and with a shake of his head. another pause follows before he reaches to pull the neck of his shirt down. Lucifer brought them all back, sure, but they still all bear the scars of their deaths. there's a crater the size of a fist over his heart, now -- like a bullet scar, worse]

I stayed behind. It didn't go too well.

Edited (html fail.) 2021-04-26 20:48 (UTC)

( Her brow furrows, as she turns, one hand on the railing. Resurrection magic, it always brings with it scars of some sort. Be it magical, physical, or mental. She knows what it takes. That Lucifer brought everyone back, it couldn't be without side effects not in this number. )

Nate...

[he drops his hand away from his shirt, collar snapping back against his neck]

I thought -- I don't know. I thought this was right up my alley, maybe? I mean, hey -- not the first time I've fought a demon army. [kind of. honestly, it's debatable as to whether that was actually happening or if he hallucinated the whole thing, but still. he has fought ghouls and yetis. he knows that mostly everything will die if you shoot it enough times] But they just kept coming.

[and while they'd been handing out ammo like candy on Halloween, before the battle had started, he'd run out at some point. he'd gotten tired, using the stock of his rifle like a club, after. and then -- ]

[he turns, too, then, leaning back out over the railing, feeling all at once nauseated as the memory of the taste of his own blood in his mouth creeps up on him along with very real bile]

( she hesitates, fingers stretching out before she decides to make contact, slowly rubbing his back with her right hand. )

We couldn't know how many demons were under Barbas' control, or what would be awaiting us with rebellion.

( he wanted to do something. he'd wanted to help. she can fully understand that. there was a time when she didn't want to just be the blonde distraction. when she lived on the outskirts of everything having to do with Elena. but, she'd come into her own.

she was also a vampire.

she stays leaned to her side, hand making slow circles, here to listen when she hasn't been. )

[he exhales a laugh, the sound entirely without humor, but doesn't pull away from her touch] Except we knew exactly how many demons he had under his control. Guy made a point of shoving it down our throats at every opportunity.

[thirty-six legions and all]

Not that I'm saying I regret it, necessarily -- I couldn't just sit around and do nothing, you know? -- I just ... [he shakes his head. he doesn't know. he doesn't know where he's going with that. he just knows that he's not okay. this is only the second time he's had to die. (he's still convinced he died to get here, even if he doesn't buy this is really Hell-Hell, anymore.) this is only the first death he remembers]

( he's right. and all thirty-six were at the ready and in Hell when he needed them. )

You can, Nate. You can regret it. But, you can't undo it. You can't go back. You stepped up. And it wasn't enough. But, you're here now. You're alive.

( Again. )

I'm here.

[okay, maybe he does regret it -- maybe just a little. he's not going to admit that out loud, however, because for all that it cost him his life and terribly, he's still ashamed to admit to that regret]

Yeah.

[a beat]

Yeah, well. [he really doesn't want to do that again. ever] I appreciate it. [and her touch, at least, has helped quell the little demon-shaped butterflies in his stomach]

( he doesn't have to be. but he also can be ashamed. )

Nate, you can be be what ever you want to be. Regretful. Sad. Five bottles in. As long as you remember you're not alone. Literally. We're all on this boat. But, also, figuratively. Because, you aren't.

[he's silent for a moment, before softly, almost hysterically:] I really don't wanna be alone.

[and he knows she said he wasn't, but -- stay, Caroline. please stay. he needs someone, right now. he's not handling any of this well, at all, and he needs someone]

( He won't be. But, she doesn't say that, she only turns him around so she can properly embrace him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling Nate close. She's not going anywhere. She is standing right here. They... will take care of these bottles eventually, that's the anal side to her that speaks up when one of her feet knocks against one. But, comforting Nate is more important. )

[the will take care of those bottles eventually. for now, he just drops his head into her shoulder, eyes stinging as they slide closed. he's not going to cry. men don't cry. he's just going to hold her -- or be held, maybe -- until he can get his shit together. it may be a minute]

( he could cry. men can definitely cry. if he doesn't want to, he doesn't have to. there are no requirements to this shoulder he's leaning on. )

[nope, toxic masculinity strikes again]

[that in mind, after sometime and without crying, he finally starts to pull away] Okay. [a beat] Okay, uh. I'm good, I think. [not that he's pulled away more than not burying his face in her shoulder]

Okay.

( She stops the circular motion of her hand as he leans back. )

That's here any time you need it.

[he lets out a shuddering sigh of a breath, when she stops rubbing his back] Yeah, I -- yeah, I might take you up on that, sometime. [because he's still not okay, even if he's got his shit together again, for the moment]

Well. That's the good thing about sometime. That ambiguity works in everybody's favor.

( AKA, she's not about to push. )

Some days it doesn't feel like it, but it is going to be okay.

Yeah.

[he wishes he believed that, right now. he's also not about to argue, however. he doesn't really have the energy for it, the heart. maybe later. maybe later he'll feel better]

Yeah. Anyway, uh. You wanna -- I think I wanna go inside.

[she's welcome to join him? at least he's not going to be drinking anymore?]

Yeah. Sure. Let's go inside. I will let a demon inside know there's a cleanup on deck 11.

( She rests a hand on his lower back as she accompanies him back inside. )

/scene?

duderaider - 2021-05-30 12:51 (UTC) - Expand

inbox » if you don't own radio

cause the more i drink the more i drink

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/scene?