*݁ ‍ ‍ ‍𝗡͟𝗔͟𝗧͟𝗔͟𝗟͟𝗜͟𝗘͟ .

That hasn't exactly changed, even now —  she can still get mean when Nat's undeserving, only because she's so quick to call Tai on the things she's refusing to think about herself.   Still,  she looks back on their lives together and knows that despite all of that,  she's proud of her.   She's proud of the player she was on the field,  proud of the hunter she was in the Wilderness,  and proud of the leader she became out there.  She owes her life to her,  even if Nat might not agree,  but it's how Tai has always seen it.    She always thought it would be herself to guide them through to eventual safety,  but it's because of Nat they got there,  and she doesn't hold the same jealousy she would have in high school,  like with Jackie making captain instead of her -- she's always known Nat was the right person for it.

And she's still alive,  still going on.  Taissa knows first hand that's not an easy feat—   and she's hard on Nat because she doesn't want anything bad to happen to her.   Sometimes too hard,  because she's afraid of the call she'll get someday to learn she didn't make it,  which is why it's so difficult for her to see her like this now.   ❝  I'm worried about it,  ❞    she retorts quickly,   raising a brow that tells Nat it's not going to be that easy.   Because her answer is vague,  and clearly a deflection—   Tai would know,  she's perfected those her entire life.   ❝  Come on.  You know you can talk to me.  ❞    But does she?  Tai's never really been that kind of friend no matter how hard she's worked to be there for her.   

IF THOUGHTS WERE DECISIVE, NAT WOULD'VE EXPECTED TAI TO HOLD THE CROWN. Above anyone else, Taissa Turner had that authority driven blood she'd seen in no one else. Even when Jackie was given that title of Captain, it surprised Nat because it was always Tai who held a sense of jurisdiction more so than anyone. She loved the game, she loved the rules and she loved order.

Makes sense now to see her as a government official. But Nat—? Natalie never had an ounce of authority nor want for it and yet, how she became a leader in any capacity was beyond her understanding. The young girl always seen as the alcoholic disappointment who somehow still managed to kick a ball right and play the game when it counted, all of a sudden viewed as some sort of commander in chief sounded ridiculous on paper. If anything, she was only a voice of reason.

But even that seemed ridiculous and confusing at the time, especially now when thinking back on it all. They really were crazy back then. Of course, Tai isn't buying Nat's excuses but she's grateful that the other hasn't quite put every piece together as to what's actually going on inside her own head. That's for the best, she thinks. But she's also digging, far too much than Nat wants her to. Now it's time to bring out the big guns - so to speak - in relation to being as dismissive as possible and hope Tai plays along. Regardless of already knowing that it won't be that easy.

❝ I think you have bigger and more important things to worry about right now, Tai. Let me worry about me and you worry about the things that actually matter the most. Like your son. Sammy's the one who needs your full attention, not me. I've thought about my own path enough and I know what the best option is. I mean, to some extent, I guess. But it's not your problem. I'm not your problem anymore. You need to accept that as much as I do. ❞

Why does she care? Because how else does she apologize for the things she cannot take back? Years of therapy, countless adjustments to medication, more than several breakdowns, and Lottie still grapples with the hazy memories of those forbidden months. The swing of an axe, the rich taste of iron coating her lips. The freedom she had experienced in those woods.

THE BEST OF THEM— ? THE BEST OF THEM. So many questions and comments begin to circulate throughout her mind she can't even keep up. Perhaps the expression on her face is enough to display that drastic sense of disbelief to Lottie's confirmation. All of a sudden, her mind goes back to that moment when they were all about to be rescued, only for Lottie to put a foot down and say no. Natalie's jaw clenches and she's holding back an abrupt anger she had only felt once before; that exact moment when salvation was rejected right before her eyes.

❝ And why is that, Lottie, hmm— ? Because I distinctly remember you giving up on all of us once upon a time. Is that what all of this is now, that you're doing? You're making up for lost times. Creating a cult for other lost minded individuals who are more so willing to let you control their minds into what they think they need just to suit your own selfish delusions.

SHE CAN'T QUITE PINPOINT THE MOMENT WHEN THEY STARTED acting strange around each other. Granted, their entire relationship as a whole was always hit or miss. When it was good, it was great. When bad, it was really bad. They were bad for each other and never quite understood why even when it was obvious. But it was either being bad together, or bad alone and together seemed better.

“Yeah.  We’re all better away from this fucking place.”    Which is mostly all talk for Taissa,  who had judged Shauna harshly for staying in Wiskayok all these years… as if she herself hadn’t ended up in the closest city nearby,  a decision she could hardly defend even to herself,  let alone anyone else.  

Still,  the idea of Nat leaving again makes her weary,  even if she understands.

Her face scrunches up in disgust as she mentions Misty’s guest room.   When they were younger,  when she was first helping Nat get on her feet,  offering up her own space wasn’t as difficult.  She’d let her stay in her dorm room,  which wasn’t a complete inconvenience — but now?  She has a family on shaky grounds,  a wife she can’t explain any of this to, and a son who’s turning out to be a little too like Tai,  enough to scare her from letting anyone who knew her then to really get to know him now.

A nod given in agreement, because she's too ashamed to even speak. Doesn't even bother to reference the emptied suggestion that she knows means absolutely nothing. If things were different with my family… no, she knows better than to touch that. What she can't quite get over is the fact that Tai acknowledges 'we're all better away from this fucking place'. Then why haven't they all left—? Sure, they've all had one reason or another. But it dawns on her in such a way that leaves her baffled. ❝ I know. The shit with your family and all… I, get it. ❞

Okay, now it was time for the beer. She wraps her fingers around the glass and takes a large swig, letting it settle upon her tongue before swallowing. ❝ Honestly, I admire the fact you're still trying to make all of that work. I hope that you do. You deserve to be happy, Tai. You deserve the nice, white picket fence type family life more so than anyone else that I know. ❞ And for once, she's not being facetious about it.

ᨒ↟      *      THE QUESTION CAME WITH AN AUDIENCE,      another attempt at including natalie in a group therapy session.      there had been many made since her friend's arrival—      and each one of them seemed to end up the same:      question after question,      contempt,      suspicion laced in natalie's tone.      it was a harsh reminder that even after all of these years,      lottie was still the one they'd chosen to place blame upon for their time in the wilderness.       “   leave us.   ”       a phrase she'd repeated like a mantra lately and she wondered why everyone in the room didn't just default to scattering like ants when natalie's emotions began to take head.       when they were all gone,       she clasped her hands in front of her.       “   i don't want anything from you,   nat.   ”       she took pause,       trying to figure out how to defuse the situation.       she'd gotten better with speech,       now,       but for years she struggled to find the right words to say.       how easily she reverted back to that clueless teenager when faced with the mental turmoil of her teammates.       “   laura lee and i brought you here so you wouldn't have to sit with   It   alone.   ”       natalie was the only one to keep her morality in tact during the course of their stay in the wilderness.       and without her,       they all would have died out there.       “   when travis died,   you slipped back into that grief and grief demands to be fed.   ”       she stepped closer,       not to intimidate,       but to offer comfort.       “   punishment isn't penance,   it's a spiral.   you have been answering the same call for years and,   nat,   It   won't stop calling if you keep answering   It.      ”       

𓅓   ͙͛ ˚₊ ⛧     : ̗̀➛       @scatcrccio said,       “   WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?   ”

EYES NO LONGER WANDER NERVOUSLY AS THE GROUP AROUND THEM shifts slowly out of the room, - per Lottie's subtle demand - leaving Nat and Lottie once again standing desolate with an almost palpable tension. She doesn't like this ; has never liked it and yet, she finds herself here time and time again. There's a joke in there somewhere, in the back of her mind she's been itching to say, but never does. Jaw clenches as she swallows, squeezing the tip of her tongue against the roof of her mouth as if she's intentionally silencing herself the whole time Lottie begins to speak directly at her.

I don't want anything from you, Nat. And it takes everything within her core to stop from scoffing. Disbelief being a constant conundrum in more ways than one, especially now. Mind racing with a million things she could've and wanted to say in that moment, but she holds onto them like a sip of whiskey being savored and not immediately swallowed. Because her war isn't with Lottie, specifically. There's even a part of her that's grateful for Lottie's interference, but she's not ready to admit that just yet. ❝ Well, maybe I don't want to feed my guilt anymore. ❞

Spoken with a hint of venin to tone, regretting it instantly but still standing her ground none-the-less. ❝ You and Laura Lee should've continued to mind your own fucking business. If you want nothing from me, you should've left me alone. What's one less Yellowjacket? I wasn't even supposed to be here, remember? It was supposed to be me who died out there. Not— ❞ Stop.

@scatcrccio // ❝ honestly it doesn't hurt that much. ❞ (for Elle)

     The look on Eleanor's face was unimpressed. She was covered in Nat's blood from a stupid cut on her hand that just wouldn't stop bleeding. It wasn't life-threatening, but Elle was starting to get annoyed with how much Nat moved around. "Hold still." She pressed a piece of cloth against it, hoping to finally stop the bleeding.

ELLE'S LAST QUESTION - THOUGH RHETORICAL AND VERY LIKELY UNSERIOUS - was far more hurtful than the cut on Nat's hand. It shouldn't have been, but it was and the look on Natalie's face after being asked was almost palpable in its defense. She could forgive everything else; the not-so-subtle reprimanding notion that punching glass in any capacity was erotic.

Yeah, it was a dumb thing to do, but Nat could've done far worse with far more severe consequences. Still, she can at least understand the notation of her behavior being erratic. But the latter— ? Her hand twitched, almost wanting to pull away from Elle entirely. ❝ No. ❞ That single word practically spitting out of her mouth with disdain that she even had to say it at all.

TRAGIC DEATH WOULD YOU SUFFER?

The Betrayal.

you die at the hands of the person you love most. maybe there are tears in their eyes as they drive the sword into your chest, maybe there is none. there are certainly tears in yours. your mouth will open to ask 'why' only to spit blood instead. you will die never knowing if they loved you at all, wondering if you could've done something to prevent this, or if it was always going to end this way.

NATALIE CERTAINLY DOES HAVE HER OWN STORY to tell. One quite unique in comparison to the rest. But she doesn't want to tell it; not even to herself - even though she does every damn day, time and time again - it's too excruciating. A weight she'd like to be lifted by but admitting it all wouldn't do anything but bring it to light and she doesn't want that either. She doesn't want it to be a catalyst for pity from those who'd see her in a different perspective when she's worked so hard to maintain a tough exterior while her insides were screaming.

Even if they hadn't made their pact to never speak of it again to anyone, she wouldn't want to anyway. Because saying it out loud made it that much more real. Made it corporeal to the point of receiving some form of forgiveness from people who didn't even matter to her in the first place. ❝ There's no story to tell. Sorry to disappoint you. But what you already know, is all it is. ❞

❝  Oh,  it's not a disappointment to me.   This isn't about me.  ❞    That's a different approach than she's sure most real journalist give them  —   they all want the story for themselves,  to entice their readers for the engagement.  She doesn't care about any of that.   She doesn't care at all,  technically  —   because it's not her job to actually get the story.   It's her job to make sure these survivors are unwavering in their desire to talk.  They have to be unbreakable.  It’s starting to get impressive,  and admittedly,  Jessica’s having fun with the assignment.  Taissa should be proud,  but that doesn’t mean Jessica’s stopping there.  

DOES SHE THINK ABOUT IT—? Constantly and not at all at the same time. But that doesn't make sense now, does it? Not at all. To her, yes. To the waking world, no. How do you describe something so horrendous that you wish you could forget but can't stop thinking about? Jessica has a point, but it's all at the wrong audience. Because poking the bear leads to unwelcomed consequences and what the reporter doesn't know, is that the lack of response is actually saving her own life.

Natalie remains aloof and for good reason, not because she wants to be difficult but because there's a door screaming to be opened that shouldn't be. Jessica's words cause Nat to scoff with some amusement once again, eyes rolling and head shaking while fingers run their course through thinned hair. The grip upon her own hip tightening, unsure if from discomfort or anger that seems to rage right through her in currents. ❝ Help me? You think you're helping? Okay… ❞ a step taken forward and an arm oh-so-casually drapes itself around Jessica's shoulders while standing to the side of her. Hand covering her own mouth momentarily as if in thought before scratching along the side of her jaw almost hesitantly.

WELL, AT LEAST THE BEANS AND RICE WERE GOOD. The beer too. If margaritas weren't so damn too sweet for her palate, she might've gone for one of those instead just for the aesthetic purposes, considering where they were. But she can tell, Tai's already judging her for the beer. Couldn't really blame her after all the rehabs she's paid for over the years only to watch Natalie chugging down one alcoholic beverage after another even still.

The thought almost makes the liquid upon her tongue taste bitter, but she swallows it anyway like she does with everything else she regrets. ❝ For once… well, now I'm almost offended. ❞ She isn't, really. ❝ Not every night with me involves a ruined night, does it? ❞ A rhetorical question initially, but in one quick second after asking, she's actually curious when in reality, she shouldn't be.

❝  It’s going well so far,  ❞   she claims,   letting out a small scoff of amusement.   ❝  I think we’ll be okay.  ❞   She hopes, anyway, but she’s always on edge when she’s with another survivor— like they’re too exposed,  bound to crumble from their pasts or the people around them who think they know what happened.

LIPS PURSE AROUND THE STRAW DIPPED IN A GLASS OF WATER, sipping at it with eyes staring off to the side as if she hadn't drunk water in days. Like a stubborn child being forced to inhale something good for them with some hint of resistance. There's a slight curl to her upper lip, a subtle hint of attitude that was more towards herself than anything else. Because why the fuck can't she hold a normal conversation with someone she's known her entire life—? Why did this seem like the most difficult thing in the world? She's not even asking for anything this time. She's not in a bad situation where she needs the other woman's assistance like usual. She's not well, granted, but she's not fucked either.

The question on how long she'll be in town for causes Nat's tongue to push against her teeth almost forcefully, her eyes still somewhere else. Fingers pressed around the rim of her water glass, ignoring the beer, for now. ❝ If it wasn't for that damn postcard, I wouldn't have come back at all. ❞ Though the question still stands even in the back of her mind as to where she would have gone if that postcard never came. She'd been released from rehab, like the good little girl she was at the time, with nowhere else to really go.

❝ I don't know. ❞ Said honestly, finally looking at Taissa again, back hunched lazily while twirling the glass in hand before letting it go and leaning back into her seat with a heavy sigh, almost defeated. ❝ Can't stay at the motel forever. I want out of Wiskayok in general I just, don't know where to go. ❞