#trying to string together coherent thoughts while doing french is like pulling teeth

[stephhwing]

thinking about cass & dick and being able to clock each other instantly.. or not being able to clock each other and freaking out. always the perceiver never the perceived. thinking about how they're two sides of the same coin, so close yet too far apart to meet, turning and turning yet never on the same plane. thinking about how they don't agree on much but they'll always agree on the belief in the world they're trying to protect, in the salvation they seek from penance, in the absolute precision of every movement, from the flick of a wrist to a twitch of their toes. they have two hands attached to their arms, one to carry sin and one to carry sacrifice, and they head out into the world in hopes of preserving the very thing that saved them. thinking about how the thread of life ties them together and they offer to the world themselves, holy and whole.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Eight: Enzo and Natasha

Enzo returned to the Den just before the 10 PM curfew was set into motion. He carried a charmed messenger bag with his essentials, his sway slightly more intense than it had been earlier. He didn’t speak to anyone when he entered, taking a blanket and one of the chairs, setting it up in the corner of the room near the window, looking down to the front lawn of Idorna.

Natasha looked up from her book when the portrait opened again, revealing a still-intoxicated Enzo. She’d already gone back to her own dormitory to grab a few necessities, but she was prepared to be here for the night. Not that it would be easy if the tension stayed as heavy as it was at the moment.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, she stood up, walking over to the corner he had secluded himself in.

“Are you planning on just ignoring everyone for the rest of the night?” she asked him.

Enzo didn’t look up when he heard the footsteps come towards him. Natasha had a heavy step for a girl of her slim build - distinct. He reached into his bag, rummaging around for a moment before pulling out a half-finished bottle of firewhiskey.

He shrugged. “I have a friend,” he said, twisting the cap off of the bottle and pressing it against his lips, tipping it back and letting the strong liquid run down his throat.

Natasha shook her head when she saw the bottle.  

Really, Enzo? Are you kidding me?

She contemplated, for a moment, just leave him be, since at least he wasn’t hurting anyone while he was drinking in the corner, by himself. But as easy as it would be just to go back to what she was doing, she knew it wasn’t a good idea.

“Enzo, we need to be figuring out a solution. And your drinking isn’t going to help with that,” she reminded him, trying to be somewhat gentle about it, even if she wanted to just grab the bottle from him and smash it.

Rolling his eyes, Enzo pulled the wand from his bag, aiming it at one of the other chairs, casting a silent ‘accio’. The chair came over and stopped beside him, just in front of Natasha.

“Sit. Talk.”

Natasha looked between the chair and the Frenchman for a few moments, trying to figure out if he was serious. But she finally determined that he was, and sat down in the chair with a small huff. She crossed her arms and looked at him, her eyes almost challenging him to take another drink of the firewhiskey.

“I know that you’re pissed off, but this isn’t helping anyone. Including you.”

Enzo kissed his teeth when he watched the moon hover above the horizon across the Waking Sea, and like clockwork, the Vampires stepped out the forest almost curiously, roaming around the castle. Enzo could not tell what was scarier: the beasts themselves, or the fact that it was routine now.

“We’re surviving tonight,” Enzo said, ignoring her piercing glare and taking another drink. “Nothing more - and this is helping me get by.”  

“Really?” she asked, her annoyance slipping through much more now. Not that she cared. Her eyes followed his for just a moment, watching the Vampires leave the Gladur, before moving back towards him and his bottle of alcohol.

“Unless we figure out what we’re going to do about Ibori, tonight, we’re as good as dead, Enzo. Because locking ourselves up in here may protect us for now, but people will figure out we’re all gone, and it will get back to him. And then he’ll get suspicious, and I doubt we’ll have long after that. So unless you’re giving up, I suggest you stop drinking and start brainstorming.”

He chuckled, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Look at you, Natasha Kraus,” he said, finally making eye contact with the stern German. “You should think about dropping Cucchurian for Aquilen.” He heavily slurred ‘Curccurion’, but he hardly noticed - the word was hard enough for him to pronounce when sober.

He gripped the barrel of the bottle, holding it towards her. “Take a sip.”

Natasha saw him offer the bottle and shook her head, huffing out a sigh of frustration. She ignored everything else he said, brushing it off as just drunken rambling.

“I don’t want any of your liquor, Enzo,” she told him. “I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually pull your weight.”

“Five drinks left, maximum,” he said, sighing as he examined the bottle. “As soon as it is gone, I’ll ‘pull my weight’,” he said, using his free hands to create air quotes. “If I drink it alone, I’m going to be no use.”

“Are you-” Natasha cut herself off, realizing that he was very much not joking. She wondered if he even had the capacity. She glanced at the still-outstretched bottle in his hand then back at his face. He did have a point; he was relatively coherent at this point, but with five more drinks, he would be completely gone.

“Fine,” she finally growled, grabbing the bottle from him and taking a long drink. It felt like fire in her mouth and throat, burning the entire way down and not in a pleasant way. The Cucurrion had only on rare occasions actually had firewhiskey, and she was remembering why.

He grinned as she made a face of disgust - possibly the most he had ever seen her emote since...

“So what do you think?” he asked, taking the bottle back, taking the second swig. “Do you honestly see a future where we don’t die?”

He looked past her for a moment, taking note of the three people on the other side of the room. On one bed was Beatrice and Calix, seated close together, talking about something; they were too far for Enzo to hear. On the other bed was Melanie, lounging comfortably. It was the same bed they...

He turned his attention back to Natasha, not wanting to look at her too long.  

Natasha restrained herself from rolling her eyes when she saw the grin on Enzo’s face. Of course, he was taking pleasure from this. But her annoyance gave way to other feelings when he spoke, knowing her deeply-rooted worry flashed across her face for a moment before she could cover it.

“I...don’t know,” she admitted after a pause, in which she tried to rein herself in so that she would reveal anything. She had been very careful not to tell any of the others about her vision, or what Professor Levas had told her about it. “I think that we have a chance, maybe.”

“That makes one of us,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on a Vampire near the edge of the island, looking down off of the cliff. “Son of a bitch, huh?”

She followed his gaze, smiling faintly despite herself. “Yeah,” she agreed, taking the bottle from him again and taking another long swig. She didn’t know how much it would take for her to start feeling the effects, but she doubted it was a lot. She was tall, but she had always been slender and rarely drank enough to build up a tolerance.

Images of Chantal Williams and Theodore Crix swept across Enzo’s mind, each working towards the same goal with the same master pulling their strings.

“I wonder why he did it,” he mused, grabbing the bottle and taking another sip, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. “What would Ibori’s reason be to sacrifice students? He’s been here for years.”  

Enzo’s speech was slowing down some, and Natasha knew that if he had any more to drink, he was just going to pass out, and then they wouldn’t get anywhere. So she took the bottle back one last time and down a few more mouthfuls, intending to finish the bottle.

“Remember what they said at the Quidditch match? Something about a queen or whatever? Maybe he’s working for someone else,” she suggested as she took a break between drinks. She was starting to feel a buzz and hoped that it wouldn’t get too bad. She needed to be coherent, too.

Enzo watched Natasha finish the bottle, taking a moment to process her words; he could tell this conversation was not going to end the way she planned, and her deal about the whiskey would be broken. “Who knows…? Not us, that’s for damnsure.” The last two words fused into one and Enzo could feel his grip on reality slipping.

The Cucurrion couldn’t help her derisive laugh, shaking her head before downing the rest of the firewhiskey and setting aside the empty bottle. “No, not us,” she agreed. “But that’s what we’re here to try to figure out, remember? How we’re going to stop whatever Ibori is doing and get the hell out of here.”

Enzo’s eyelids began to droop even more, and he settled back into his chair, lifting up his feet to rest against the windowsill. The blanket, alcohol, and heat from the fireplace gave him a fuzzy feeling in his chest. He completely forgot the statement Natasha made a moment ago.

“Thanksfortalkingtome,” he said, but it was barely more than a quick mumble.

Natasha turned toward Enzo, frowning a little. He’d clearly said something, but what, she had absolutely no idea. He was either too drunk to speak clearly anymore, or she was too drunk to understand. Probably some combination of the two, at this point. But after several moments of trying to piece together the words, she understood what he’d meant. Or at least what she thought he meant.

“You’re welcome,” she told him, nodding a little. She glanced towards the others, who were still wrapped up in their own things.

Maybe it would be better to relax. Just for a little while…

His eyes closed as the sound of her voice reached him. “Cinq minutes…” he said gruffly, but as soon as the French words passed his lips, his head tilted to the left, against the wall, and his consciousness slipped away.

Natasha looked over at Enzo as his head slumped to the side, clearly out cold. She doubted he would wake up for a while, entirely negating the point of her drinking any of the firewhiskey in the first place. But it was too late to change anything.

“Gott im Himmel,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head as if it would clear the alcohol-induced haze that had settled over her. She knew she needed to sober up, to start planning with the others, but her limbs felt heavy, resisting letting her up from her seat.

Five minutes, she silently agreed with Enzo, letting her own eyes slide shut. Maybe without them, the others could actually get something done.