capsizing | [tana au] closed to Claudia

[ Five minutes after waking, the headache hadn't subsided much, but at least the chatty nurse had finally gone. Leaving ... Itachi, in the same clothes he'd remembered (pretty nice for our kind, she'd said with a frown), though the cloth seemed faded, somehow. The quiet purr of aged-looking equipment on a table against the wall to one side, guarded by a backless, patched-over stool. The second-hand look of the place tells Itachi he's nowhere near Tanagura, so. Midas. And how, exactly, he got there is going to have to wait for a minute because he's not the only one in the room. Another cot occupies the room, and the woman slowly waking isn't unfamiliar. They hadn't known each other well -- only met once, in fact -- but he remembers her name, though months have passed since then.

Claudia. Levi's acquaintance, (former) black market agent, who'd offered a warning he couldn't dismiss. Who'd perhaps only prolonged the inevitable, but he watches her stir from sleep with concern born of his own nature, as well as a sense of delayed gratitude. Why her? Why now? Perhaps she knows the answer to these questions, but for the moment he sees no other option but to wait. It's only once she opens her eyes that he decides to speak, low and calm -- hoping to avoid the small-scale panic that had shrouded his own thoughts upon waking in a completely unfamiliar place. ]

I ... hadn't thought to see you again.

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No? ( her voice is rough, in comparison: accent, thick, and one might mistake the casual nature of her concern for the sleep and sore that roots itself in her marrow. — where their situation seems something else for a woman who has passed weeks in languish, hole in her stomach, and the clinic is familiar in so much that she might find herself in this particular cot for fainting. she sighs, tossing an arm across her face. ) Here, I thought we were friends.

Friends, huh?

[ She recovers quickly, at least -- that, Itachi appreciates, especially in a situation like this. He's used to ... simply waking up places, but it's never been a good sign: whether death or incapacitation, he's yet to enjoy the experience, and if there's any bright side to be seen in this moment, it's that at least he's not alone this time.

Is it selfish? Maybe. Itachi rubs at his temples, watching still Claudia from beneath the shadows cast by his hands. ]

I had thought you ... gone. Like so many others. [ A soft sigh follows that, as he swings his legs off the cot, a little gingerly. ] Are you feeling all right?

( that gives pause, at least. and languishing, hiding, without so much as a murmur, even for her sweetest allies, she supposes such thoughts were inevitable. not waiting, even rotting, no. a mere ghost for amoi to forget. wouldn’t that please khepri? her jaw tenses. she forces an airiness as she speaks. )

Khepri tired of me. He might have seen the job finished, though, if he weren’t lazier than a housecat.

I can't imagine he appreciated the insolence.

[ Itachi doesn't need the sharingan to see the way Claudia tenses -- senses something deeply unpleasant within those first four words, before the rest confirms the thought. There are so many worse things than death (he knows Khepri must have been familiar with almost every one of them), and he wonders if it was truly laziness, or if it was a taunt, something to sting her pride.

You're not even worth killing. Something like that. Maybe neither of them will ever know. He turns his attention away to the far wall, allows her what privacy he can as he tests his legs; they'd been shaky still, weeks after the coma that followed Tinder's death, the collapse of those suffocating tunnels, as well as -- ]

I wondered. What he was like, I mean. I'm relieved he's dead, though, despite the cost.

Edited (late night html fail) 2015-11-09 09:25 (UTC)

( the thought plagues her, the generous wait in his orders, and she wonders: if she was too cautious of him, perhaps, or worse. — if she was for him to watch struggle and squirm and she would have rid of herself in an instant. that is what constricts her throat, though, isn’t it? knowing herself an equal of him, of the borgia and the pazzi, of a templar and knowing none to blame but herself. she scoffs. )

He’ll only return, you know.

[ Itachi hums -- not in agreement, but simple acknowledgment. It seemed likely, didn't it? It had happened before, after all, and the man had protections in place even as a mongrel. There'd been so many things to talk about when he'd woken up after the collapse, but for all the information and catching up he'd been subject to over the last few weeks, there'd been no word of him reclaiming his place.

It might mean anything at all, and permanence is nothing he'll hang his hopes on. Not here. ]

I wouldn't be surprised, no. Only that he's taking so long.

( another moment to pause as she weighs such a statement. then: claudia rolls her head, pulling her arm against her collar, to watch itachi. )

What did you do?

( the embers, that is. )

Nothing of consequence.

[ There's more than a little bitterness in his voice. His attention lingers on unfamiliar equipment on a nearby table, more listless than curious. ]

I don't know if he was murdered, or if he died when the tunnels collapsed -- all I heard when I woke from my own injuries is that he had been a confirmed casualty, and had not returned to the market.

( a furrow of her brow, then. a gentle shake of her head against the cot’s pillow. none of what itachi speaks is familiar. — a separate context of herself, she realises, and she thinks she ought to know: khepri hadn’t stolen her spies, after all. )

The tunnels? When was this?

[tana au] closed to Claudia

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