iterumrp | here we go again

Who: Natasha and OPEN!
What: Getting settled
When: First week after returning
Where: Various
Warnings: Will update

It was like déjà vu, only of another world and not her own, though she knew exactly what the fate of her outcome was there. Now she was caught in some kind of middle plane that no one quite knew a lot about. Even the ones who'd been there years and before that somewhere else that had all of the same uncanny similarities.

Natasha woke up in her old suite at Magnolia and found the basket at the end of the kitchen island. In it were the same items from home and the same invitation to a party at the Tower. Everything was so damn reminiscent of the last time she had arrived that she had to look at the date on her phone to understand why she felt so unsettled. And that's when she saw it. The date. Last she remembered, it was February. Now it was July 1st.

So, where the hell did five months go?

She spends her first week passing through each of the districts, refamiliarizing herself and taking note of what was still there and what wasn't, all the while keeping an eye out for a certain Atlantean King who she steadily lost faith would be returning as days wore on. But, she spent time at the shoreline down at the end of Chicory Way where she had her modest-sized bungalow kept waiting for her.

In the second half of the week, Natasha connects with other Chosen and willingly engages with anyone she remembers or with those who look slightly out of sorts. If she's not dining in at one of the various restaurants or stops in to grab a drink at The Blind Beggar or The Lounge.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He can't even mind that his cheek is damp under her hand, because they're both here, both clinging, both knowing this is an impossible second chance. "This morning," he says, with a little frown. "Near as I can tell." In case it's been longer, in case he's missing time.

"Figured I'd get the lay here." Hence up. Out of sight, out of mind, unnoticed. Except those who know to look.

Should he ask her the same thing? Would the answer really matter? Is 'when' applicable to the dead? Which...shit, he really has to ask, doesn't he? Because it wouldn't be the craziest thing, though might be near it.

He licks his lips. "Nat, are we both...?" There's a cough of a laugh punched out of him. "If this is an afterlife, I was kinda hoping for something a little more glamorous."

That makes sense. She set out early this morning and left her device on silent so that she could float from district to district to get a fresh set of eyes on the City to see what had changed. It was always in the back of her mind that someone else would arrive but deep down, she hoped with her whole self that it wouldn't be him.

So much for silver linings.

Natasha sweeps away the wetness with her thumb across his cheek and lowers her hand to his shoulder. She shakes her head. Not because the answer is a grim one, but because she doesn't honestly know.

"I don't think so," she answers. "I remember falling but it was like the half second before I actually died, I ended up here."

Her lips press together.

"Did something happen to you before you got here?" she questions next, her tone a little more animated than seconds before while eyes search his for the answer before he has a chance to tell her.

If he'd die, even despite her sacrifice, she wouldn't know what to do with herself.

Did something happen to him. God. Obviously he knows what she's asking, but it still feels like an incredibly loaded question. His head still feels like it's ringing from Yelena's tender touch, after all.

"Nothing that I remember. Hopefully I didn't have a heart attack in my sleep. Always figured I'd go out in a much louder, way stupider way." Always figured he'd die on the job, and somehow, decades later, he's still here. Someone up there likes him, maybe a little too much.

Besides. Who knows if it's different for someone whose soul was made a sacrifice?

"I feel pretty alive. So do you." And she shouldn't. It doesn't surprise him that she thinks she's from before death, because it was instantaneous. She probably didn't even feel the impact, didn't have time to register anything like that. He couldn't get her body--

Under the circumstances, it's impossible to steer his thoughts from Vormir, but what he needs to focus on is right in front of him. She's warm. Alive for whatever that means here and now.

Thankfully, he didn't get the chance to jump. That would have definitely been the "stupid" part of that death. Still, Natasha can't help but nod at feeling alive, though she knows as well as he does that when you take that kind of dive, there's not much you can do. It wasn't like there was a field of tumbling Red Room debris to hop over and step down on like a staircase to solid ground.

For the sake of him and that whole thing, Natasha wants to move on to other topics, though she's pretty sure it's easier said than done,

"Seems that way, yeah," she nods, letting a beat pass before taking in a breath. "You got a place nearby that we can go to and talk?"

As much as she doesn't want to take him away from his vantage point, anything that's more than a few stories is something Natasha has been steering clear of.

"I got the apparent apartment in the area that I seem to have just...inherited somehow." By virtue of appearing in it and having the means to lock or unlock it as he pleases. So. One of his weirder kidnappings, to be sure.

"Whether it's safe to talk there or not is up in the air." Since he doesn't trust shit for shit here. But maybe somewhere that isn't the top of some building might be better. Given the past several years of their lives back home, the idea of Clint being slotted into the more wrathful district probably doesn't come as any particular shock.

here we go again

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