show me how you do that trick
Apr 17, 2014 2:23:28 GMT -5
Post by Nina Fortner on Apr 17, 2014 2:23:28 GMT -5
They hadn't arrived too late; Dan Dreiberg had seemed faintly wearied after getting off the plane, but mostly relatively pleased with himself and happy to have a chance to stretch his legs. Nina got a strong sense off him that he was peacocking for her father, who seemed fatigued in the more usual way for him, but endeared enough by Daniel to glower a bit at him. Oh, she did hope she wasn't too much like her father at times.
But then everyone seemed faintly weary. Adrian, of course, with his tendencies towards not understanding fully the human condition, showed them around on a brief tour of the facilities after a meal, and afterward they chose rooms. It was clearly a place that had been built not only as a vacation home, but for long-term living, should his science team stay there. Nina thought about what might have happened to some of the people who worked for her father in the past and, though the Greek heat was oppressive even in the pleasant dusk, she shivered.
She put her clothing in the available dresser, her spare belongings on top of it. She didn't want to feel too much like a visitor - not in her father's island home, not now, not any longer, if she could help it. Of course there was still something in the bottom of the suitcase...
Nina hesitated, then bent to withdraw a rolled-up silk shirt. It dangled from her hands as though proudly confronting her - a too-large men's shirt, with a garish geometric print in colors like navy and goldenrod and brown. Almost unwillingly, she brought it in to smell it. It had a relatively clean smell, like all the other clothes that had been packed away in it - and not being able to detect a trace of faint cologne on it brought horribly unwelcome tears to her eyes.
God, she hated herself in that moment - she flung it down on the bed and walked immediately to her window, looking out broodily at the black sea in the distance.
How was she supposed to get over Raoul Silva if she was going to childishly cling to what relics he left her? It was as though she could hear his laughter in her ear, now - she thought again at what she'd said, that if she met him again, and told him that she had missed him, he would laugh and say he'd expected it - and if she said she'd forgotten him he'd have nodded, sagely, and said he was so proud of her for being so wise.
"He's incapable of sincerity," she spoke out loud, as though to make it final.
But he wasn't incapable of sincerity.
His anger and vulnerability in their final moments had been more than sincere. The night he'd told her about boundaries - after she'd more or less insisted on it - a strange concession to think on with such a swirl of hope beneath her breast.
But he'd been honest with her, in a way she strongly suspected he very rarely was, and had not wanted to be.
And he'd left because of that.
He wasn't incapable of greater feelings at all, but he didn't want them and he certainly didn't want them with her.
It felt like a personal judgment, that he'd decided she wasn't worth it, personally. She sank against the windowframe with tears now blurring her vision. Oh, he didn't want her, and she wanted him to, so badly. She'd gotten her idiotic hopes up, and been repaid as everyone had cautioned her she would be - even Silva himself.
Half an hour later she was undressing for bed, when she glanced back at the bedspread, and removed the tank top she was planning to wear to sleep in.
Just a few minutes after that, Nina was knocking on Curt's door, shyly.
But then everyone seemed faintly weary. Adrian, of course, with his tendencies towards not understanding fully the human condition, showed them around on a brief tour of the facilities after a meal, and afterward they chose rooms. It was clearly a place that had been built not only as a vacation home, but for long-term living, should his science team stay there. Nina thought about what might have happened to some of the people who worked for her father in the past and, though the Greek heat was oppressive even in the pleasant dusk, she shivered.
She put her clothing in the available dresser, her spare belongings on top of it. She didn't want to feel too much like a visitor - not in her father's island home, not now, not any longer, if she could help it. Of course there was still something in the bottom of the suitcase...
Nina hesitated, then bent to withdraw a rolled-up silk shirt. It dangled from her hands as though proudly confronting her - a too-large men's shirt, with a garish geometric print in colors like navy and goldenrod and brown. Almost unwillingly, she brought it in to smell it. It had a relatively clean smell, like all the other clothes that had been packed away in it - and not being able to detect a trace of faint cologne on it brought horribly unwelcome tears to her eyes.
God, she hated herself in that moment - she flung it down on the bed and walked immediately to her window, looking out broodily at the black sea in the distance.
How was she supposed to get over Raoul Silva if she was going to childishly cling to what relics he left her? It was as though she could hear his laughter in her ear, now - she thought again at what she'd said, that if she met him again, and told him that she had missed him, he would laugh and say he'd expected it - and if she said she'd forgotten him he'd have nodded, sagely, and said he was so proud of her for being so wise.
"He's incapable of sincerity," she spoke out loud, as though to make it final.
But he wasn't incapable of sincerity.
His anger and vulnerability in their final moments had been more than sincere. The night he'd told her about boundaries - after she'd more or less insisted on it - a strange concession to think on with such a swirl of hope beneath her breast.
But he'd been honest with her, in a way she strongly suspected he very rarely was, and had not wanted to be.
And he'd left because of that.
He wasn't incapable of greater feelings at all, but he didn't want them and he certainly didn't want them with her.
It felt like a personal judgment, that he'd decided she wasn't worth it, personally. She sank against the windowframe with tears now blurring her vision. Oh, he didn't want her, and she wanted him to, so badly. She'd gotten her idiotic hopes up, and been repaid as everyone had cautioned her she would be - even Silva himself.
Half an hour later she was undressing for bed, when she glanced back at the bedspread, and removed the tank top she was planning to wear to sleep in.
Just a few minutes after that, Nina was knocking on Curt's door, shyly.