We Are Not Special, We Just Are...

Drina

Originally posted May 19, 2015

"We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens."

Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

Song: UNKLE - Rabbit in Your Headlights

They're back; feelings of suffocation and isolation. She's restless again, wanting to wander, wanting to vanish. It happens when she spends too much time alone, when she waits. It's not Alex's fault. He has obligations. He doesn't live the way she does, doesn't have the needs she has. He can stay out there for days at a time, focused on the fight, focused on balance and on duty. Alex understands the importance of the work they do. Medrina understands it, too. She just also understands her own wants and desires. And then she feels guilty for her own neediness amidst so many other issues in the world.

"I miss you." She tells him this so often she's starting to wonder if he even believes the words. They see each other when they can. There are brief conversations, quick embraces. When she's lucky, he'll stay the night with her, take time with her, love her fiercely and gently in their bed until she is completely content and exhausted. Often, by the time she awakens, he's already gone again, and she finds herself wondering if she merely imagined the encounter.

A part of her can't help but think this is simply the path she's destined to walk; a circle, cycles. It always comes back to being alone, always comes back to pacing and late nights, early days, poor sleep. She isn't even hunting right now. She doesn't have the focus for it--not that she'd tell Alex any of this. He needs her to be strong so he can stay strong. Gaia needs it, too. She doesn't feel strong these days, though.

It's a fortune cookie of all things that makes her stop and reflect.

'Do you have the patience to wait until your mud settles and the water is clear?' - Lao Tzu

She laughs, considering the wise question. Does she? She's not even sure right now. Medrina spends the rest of the afternoon meditating on patience.

Drina

Originally Posted Jul 12, 2015

Song: Active Child - Hanging On

June 26th. Friday morning. Seoul.

The sun is barely up. Alex comes home in a flurry. He's looking for something, rummaging through closets, cupboards and drawers. Medrina awakens from a nap on the couch, and immediately she's at his side, hugging, nuzzling, greeting him much like a beloved pet might. It's not her Alex, though. It's work Alex. More and more, as he spends time away from her and their home, he returns a different man, a focused man whose goals and wants no longer reflect her own, a man whose duty to Gaia is so strong that he's simply forgotten what it is he's fighting for, or perhaps his reasons have changed. This Alex doesn't respond to her affection, and so she releases him, giving him his space. This Alex pauses in his search, shifting awkwardly as he stands there, watching Medrina.

"You look tired," she coaxes, "You should take a nap with me."

They're in the bedroom now, and she's half convinced if she can just get him onto the bed, maybe, just maybe, she can keep him a little longer, her elusive Alex.

"I can't stay," he speaks quickly, adjusting the goggles over his eyes, but not removing them for her, "I have to go back. We're onto something. It's important. They need me to come back."

"But," she feels herself shrink under his gaze. There's no love in the eyes she can barely see behind the thickened lenses of the goggles. This Alex doesn't have time for love. "But I need you, too."

Alex gives a wry laugh, shaking his head. He doesn't speak, and resumes his hunt, kneeling in the closet. He's successful in his search, pulling out a canvas bag that appears to contain something, though she doesn't even ask what’s inside. She doesn't want to know. That bag, as far as she is concerned, is now just another thing to take Alex away from her.

"I'm sorry," he manages, voice wavering for a moment, though it quickly gains strength as he stands, "I have to get back."

"No," she protests, but there is no strength in her voice now. She reaches for his hand, managing to curl her fingers into his, and gently pulls him closer as she steps backward, away from the bedroom door, "I.. I need you to stay. You can't keep leaving like this! And coming back, and leaving again. I need you here.."

He draws her hand up to his face, lips pressing against her fingers, then releases it. He's already starting from the bedroom, probably well aware of her plan, well aware of its effectiveness, even if the effect is temporary. She follows, hopelessly, helplessly.

"I, ah," he hesitates as he nears the door, turning to look at her fully, "I don't think I'm coming back."

She feels her heart sink in an instant, feels a hard, heavy lump in her throat. Her eyes immediately well with tears, her gaze soft. She tries to speak and can't quite find her voice at first.

"I can be better," she finally manages, barely able to open her mouth around the words, "I can.. I can stop pushing so much.. I can give you space. You.. you can't just not come home anymore, Alex.. What about us? What about our plans?"

She holds up her hand, showing him the ring he gave her just months ago. His grandmother’s ring. Her hand is quickly clenched into a fist, Medrina’s arms and entire body starting to shake as she fights a flood of tears.

He looks away as she starts to break, a soft sigh passing his lips.

Finally, he reaches to draw her in against him, hugging her, holding her. For a few sweet moments, it's her Alex, reminding her that he is here and that he loves her. His lips press a kiss against her forehead and linger. Already, she's sobbing and shaking, unable to control the tears that trickle from vivid yellow eyes, bright with emotion, with fear. She clings to him, arms holding tightly, furiously.

She can feel it, though, the second he disappears again, the way the tension in his arms releases before he lets her go. When he speaks, his voice is calm, but distant.

"I have to go now," he repeats, tone neutral, careful, "They need me to hurry."

"I NEED YOU!" she shouts, face scrunching up to a mix of hurt, betrayal, confusion and anger all at once.

"Medrina," he tries to maintain that calm tone, "We both know this is distracting us from what we need to do out there."

"No," she protests, searching for words, "It's.. it's reminding us! Every time I'm out there I think about getting to come back to you--and.. and helping other people come back to their loved ones an--"

"I have to go," he repeats. This time, he doesn't hesitate. He opens the door, speaking quickly, "They need me."

"I need you," she repeats, voice hoarse and croaking. But the door is already closed, and Alex is gone. She throws herself against it, shrieking and slamming the flat of her hand against the heavy wood with a thud.

"I NEED YOU!”

She sinks down to her knees, crumpled and sobbing, the words repeating over and over in her head as she cries. I need you. I need you. I need you..

Drina

Originally posted July 12, 2015

Song: Active Child - Johnny Belinda

“I need you,” the words spill almost mechanically past dry lips.

Medrina awakens hours later. She doesn’t recall moving away from the door but somehow, she’s in her bed. Their bed. No. Her bed. It’s dark out now, the sun long since down--not that she needs the light to see.

She sits up, her eyes adjusting as she looks around the quiet, darkened space. Everything in the bedroom is a memory, and it’s not just their pictures, scattered here and there, in frames on the surfaces, or loose and taped to the vanity mirror. In every photograph they’re either smiling or making dumb faces, and they’re always so close, holding each other, cheek to cheek, lips to lips, skin to skin. And then there are the trinkets.. A pair of wooden dice sitting on the nightstand, a delicate ceramic box shaped like a pumpkin, a couple of hand-carved hairpins, each depicting an exotic cat, a hanging on the wall--A woman and a cat, facing each other, separate but connected. Alex’s tattoos. She can still remember the day he showed them to her. His chest and shoulders were bandaged and he was straddling her on the bed. He peeled away the gauze and revealed them, his beautiful tributes to the woman he loved, the woman he wanted to spend forever with. He told her that day he accepted all of her, woman and cat. They’d made love and fallen asleep together, entangled in each other’s arms and legs.

Everything in the room has memories. She remembers the day she moved in with him, standing behind Alex as he made room in the closet for her, a nervous, happy smile on his face as he slid his own clothes over, offered up empty hangers. The drawers of the dresser, too. They had mostly been unused as it was, but he made a point of telling her their space was hers now. This is your home, he’d told her, Everything that’s mine is yours, too.

'I don’t want it,' she thinks to herself now, alone and surrounded by so many memories that should be happy, 'I just want you.'

She sits up, wincing at a sudden dizziness. When was the last time she’d eaten? She can’t recall. The idea of eating makes her stomach turn, though. She stands, wobbly-legged, a hand reaching for the edge of the nightstand to brace herself. She misses, and hears the wooden dice go skittering off the stand onto the floor. They land, dragon face up. I make my own luck, a voice in her head says. Alex’s voice. 'Fuck your luck.' She kicks the dice with a bare foot and they disappear under the bed.

Her eyes dart back to the pumpkin on the stand and she picks it up, flinging it toward the mirror. The crash sounds like it comes from everywhere. Ceramic and glass shards fly while photographs flutter to the ground. She stalks toward the bedroom door, not even glancing as she feels sharpness penetrate the soles of her feet.

She walks out into the main part of the apartment, a trail of bloody footprints behind her. Her feet are already healing, though, thanks to Gaia’s blessings. Her eyes fix on the wooden stand holding their television. Alex had spent hours sanding and refinishing the old, beat up dresser, painting it and breathing new life into it. It was the first thing in the apartment that was theirs together, a gift from him to her, honoring their bond, their plans, promising a future that would not be.

Sitting out, next to the television, is the DVD of The Princess Bride. Medrina’s eyes immediately well with tears, lower lip trembling as her gaze drops to the ring still on her finger. They’d watched the movie the night he proposed, in the theater in San Francisco, on the loveseat they’d shared on their very first date, even though neither had called it that back then. They were just friends, right? Just two people watching a movie. And, six months later, they were back there for that special night, the night he showed her the video of his family, the night he’d officially invited her to be a part of his new family.

As she looks around, she realizes there is nowhere in their home that is without memories. The record player sits there near the armchair, where they’d cuddled so many nights. And with the record player are dozens of albums with even more memories. The one sitting out, though, Duran Duran’s Wedding album, comes with the most. They will never dance to those songs again.

She walks over to the record player, snatching up the Wedding album sleeve, the record safely inside. She bends it until she hears the SNAP of vinyl, muffled by cardboard. There’s a satisfying sound, so she picks up another, The Cure’s Faith album, and does the same. And then she destroys another, and another, and another.. In no time at all the stand that held their collection is empty, each album broken or bent, scattered on the ground in a messy pile.

She steps past the mess, walking to the kitchen, a kitchen filled with happy memories of cooking and laughing, teasing and playing around, but also important talks, serious things. She told Alex in this kitchen, the first night they danced, the first night they slept in bed together, that she couldn’t have children. He hadn’t cared, had accepted this as a part of her, much like he would accept many other parts of her.

On the table in the kitchen sits a weathered conch shell, no bigger than two hands clasped together. She doesn’t even take time to process the flood of memories that come with the vision of that shell. Instead, she picks it up off the table and flings it into the wall, denting the plaster as the shell bursts into fragments and.. confetti? Confetti, a rainbow of colors, still inside shell, along with the last note she’d ever put in there for Alex months ago, a note he’d never taken time to claim.

‘The important thing about you, is that you are you.’ I read that in a book. - Drin

The sight of the note makes her scream with anger and sadness. She knocks the kitchen table over, toppling it noisily, the table now supported by two of its legs and the edge of its top. The chairs are next, each lifted and hefted in the direction of the far wall. The more she acts out, the more she embraces the bubbling rage within her, the less she focuses on the hurt. In no time at all she’s stalking through the apartment, looking for anything that is upright and undamaged, wanting nothing more than to destroy it all. Curtains are torn from windows, pillows are ripped apart, walls are punched, decorations are smashed, mirrors are shattered. The place goes from happy home to debris-ridden aftermath in a matter of minutes. And as she stalks and rages, Medrina doesn’t even notice the spotted cat, slinking along behind her, looking more and more agitated and worried, more tense.

Out of nowhere she feels force against her, feels the wind knocked right out of her as she collapses in a heap. Above her, said cat perches, paws pressing down against Medrina’s chest, Meena’s eyes boring into hers, the leopard’s fangs bared. It’s not aggression, though, and she can see that in the cat’s eyes. It’s fear. Her crazy, wild, emotional outburst scares Meena, and she’s trying to stop it.

Medrina doesn’t struggle, doesn’t fight, fatigue overtaking momentum once she’s there on the ground. Fatigue, and sadness.

“I’m sorry,” she bursts, arms sliding around the feline, tears already falling from the corners of Medrina’s eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Meena relaxes, crouched over Medrina, settling as the woman sobs.

“I.. I can’t be here anymore,” she says to the cat, the words coming out messy and choked, “We need to go home.”

Drina

Originally posted July 20, 2015

Song: James Blake - Retrograde

Running away doesn't fix problems, but it can lessen their effect, dull the senses of the sad and broken. Medrina leaves with Meena almost immediately after the incident in the apartment, after destroying the home she and Alex made together. They're on a flight that very evening, from the Incheon International Airport in Seoul to Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose International Airport in Kolkata, Medrina nervously fidgeting in a seat in coach class and poor Meena tagged and drugged, sitting in a crate in cargo. Medrina's done this before, quick travel and the paperwork game, and once they land it's not hard at all to regain custody of the cat.

They're on a special bus out of the city within hours of landing, headed to a remote area in Eastern India, a special place perfect for a runaway with a wounded heart.

She casts away her human semblance as soon as she and Meena are free of the crowds, the two cats taking off into the jungle, skulking silently along on a trail only they know, Medrina black as night and blending with the shadows, Meena spotted and camouflaging with the scenery around them. Medrina can't get rid of everything about her human side, though, and she carries a little pack with her, containing, among other things, her cell phone, Alex's grandmother's ring, a fragment from a broken seashell, and a couple worn, folded papers with cutout newspaper words on them.

Medrina's Den-Realm, a gift from her kuasha on the night of her passing, is a sacred place where nobody comes or goes unless she deems it, a place where she can heal and forget all traces of the humanity she clings to, even now. The pack is set aside in the brush and all but forgotten. In the first few days, it buzzes and chimes as she receives texts, tweets, calls. After a few days, though, the phone is silent, implying either the battery is dead, or that's all the time it takes in this fast-moving world to forget a person. She doesn't look to see which is the answer. Instead, she focuses on resting, relaxing, clearing her mind, healing.

And it works, too, sort of. While she's stalking the forest with Meena, looking for prey, she doesn't think about Alex or her friends or the life she's left behind. She lives in the moment, or tries to. As long as she keeps busy and focused, her mind doesn't wander too far. Always, though, there is a dull, constant aching in her throat and in her chest, the metaphoric pain of a broken heart. Even as her mind tries to help her forget why, the pain grows, and in just a few days' time she cannot sleep and she cannot eat. She spends most of her time simply laying about, staring into nothingness, waiting to feel whole again...

It's one of these times when she's laying, lost in her head, that the phone starts up again. It chimes and buzzes, it chirps and rings. By all accounts, it's been enough time that it should be dead. And, sure enough, when she finally lets curiosity get the best of her and peeks at said phone, the battery symbol is flashing quickly. Still, a flood of messages pop through, all from the same phone number.

It starts with her name in Korean characters, then the words "for you." Then it moves to memes, silly internet pictures, and quickly progresses through her own pictures. There are some images of Medrina alone, some silly edited pictures she put online, some private pictures of her and friends, some of her and Alex. It continues, focusing on the people she knows. There are surveillance photos of her adopted father at the circus, of Elania drinking at the Horned God, of Shen looking lost in Ealdwic, of Andjela trying not to seem overwhelmed in Kaidan, of Fen sitting on a bench somewhere unfamiliar. There's even one of Trevor DJing in the Crusades while Lia dances. There are pictures of other people as well; friends, colleagues, acquaintances. Medrina watches the phone's screen as the pictures rapidly replace each other. She holds her breath, watching, waiting. There is no Alex in any of the surveillance photos. Even without his image among the others, she becomes aware of how much she misses each and every one of those faces--even the ones she barely recognizes. Later, when she tells this story to Shen and Andjela, she'll leave out the part about the photos and simply tell them it was the memes and joke pictures. It's hard to be open sometimes. It's hard to let others know you care.

After the photos of her friends stop coming, there are photos of buildings in Kaidan, along with coordinates, vague instructions. Then, the phone shuts off. It wouldn't be much to go off for most people, but she is not most people, and it's all very clear what they want from her. She can't ignore the summon, even if she wants to. The world needs her. Her duty is to Gaia and all its creatures, whether her heart is ready or not.

Drina

Originally posted July 27, 2015

Song: Massive Attack - Paradise Circus

She’s in Kaidan again, doing something fairly routine. The Dragon needs an area cleaned out and secured so they can store something. She doesn’t ask what’s being stored. She doesn’t need to know. Cleaned out, in this case, means clear of Filth-tainted people and creatures. Medrina’s instructions are unwritten, but clear: kill off the Filthy and dispose of the bodies. It should be an easy enough assignment, and a good way to get her head back in the game.

Anybody who comes to Kaidan regularly knows about the voices. There’s John, sure, but the Filth itself seems to whisper into the minds of those near it. It might be the lost minds of those it’s consumed, it might be the insecurities of the listener. They’re always there, the voices, if you listen closely. For someone like Medrina, with sensitive ears and excellent hearing, she hears not just the voices in the Filth around her, but those blocks and blocks away, all droning like a messy, rambling chorus. Normally, she wears headphones, blasts music and tunes them out pretty effectively. For whatever reason, she’s forgotten them this trip. She’s doing her best to ignore the voices.

Medrina is just inside a narrow alley when one of the voices focuses on her.

Meow.

She doesn’t look up, her focus on a handful of gibbering, oblivious Filth-tainted people toward the center of the alley.

Here kitty kitty… Meow?

She purses her lips, ignoring the voice. Or, rather, voices; several voices together, all speaking with the same tone. Her eyes remain fixed on the nearest Filthy person and she raises her right hand, a piece of metal jutting into the underside of her wrist, blood oozing from the self-inflicted wound.

Leave us alone, the voice grows lower, growling, You don’t need to be here. Go back to India, kitty.

“Fuck off,” she mutters.

The blood trickling from her wrist solidifies into a ball. She flicks her fingers and the blood flies, growing larger and glowing faintly. The infected nearest her screams in pain as it’s pelted in the face. It thrashes and writhes, alerting the others. Medrina is ready, and starts down the alley, blood flying from her wrist and hitting the Filthy, burning their blackened, sickly flesh like acid.

She takes another step, a wave of nausea hitting her. The smell of the Filth and the blood is overwhelming. She nearly stumbles, reaching her hand for the wall nearest her to steady herself, even as the angry and injured infected start toward her.

Oops, the voice is back, low and growling, You forgot to eat again, didn’t you? You only have so much blood, kitty. If you were actually human, you’d be smart enough to realize that.

“Don’t talk to me,” she growls, reaching for one of her pistols even as her wrist continues to bleed. She’s trying not to panic but she can feel the change in her heartbeat as more blood flows.

Do it, the voice urges,

Shoot yourself. End it.

“This isn’t for me,” she speaks through gritted teeth, “It’s for your friends.”

She opens fire on the mob, several steady shots downing the remaining Infected. Sliding her pistol back into its holster, Medrina moves for the bodies so she can prep them for disposal. The plan is to set them alight right where they are, but she doesn’t have the strength to make fire right now. As she drags the corpses closer to each other, she catches sight of the ring on her finger and the voice starts up again.

That doesn’t belong to you.

“He gave it to me,” she protests, continuing to pull one of the bodies. She’s distracted, doesn't notice movement further down the alleyway.

He didn’t mean to, the voice gets louder, It was meant for her. He’d have given it to that other woman if he could have. The woman he actually loved. You were just a consolation prize.

She shakes with tension, flinging the body onto another, then moves for the last one.

A toy, it continues, A distraction.

“That’s not true.”

A passing fancy, it taunts, He doesn’t love you. He never loved you.

“Yes he does!” she shouts, then winces, “He did.”

He didn’t. Nobody could ever love you. You’re a freak. An abomination. You belong in that pile of bodies.

“Fuck you!” Medrina barks, blinking back a wave of tears. She’s too bleary-eyed and unfocused to see the figures shuffling closer.

You can wear whatever clothes you want, Areeba.

“Shut up.”

… Watever mask you want.

“Shut up.”

You will never be human.

“Shut up.”

You will never be one of them.

“Shut. Up.”

You will

“Shut up.”

always

“Shut up.”

“Shut up…”

a monster.

“SHUT UP!” she shouts, whirling around, as if she could find the speaker and confront the voice, “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHU--”

She’s surrounded. There are over a dozen of them, all shapes and sizes. They’re too close. Medrina doesn’t have a chance to react before they’re swarming her, grabbing her, biting at her. The whispering in her head continues as the Filthy tear at her flesh and eat her alive.

Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. How does it feel, monster?

She doesn’t have the strength to fight, staring at the overcast sky when she can see it, feeling heat and Filth and blood all over her body, feeling sharp pains and dull pains, hearing the sound of hands and teeth pulling pieces of her away.

Where is he now, pretty kitty? it whispers.

“He’s… gone,” she gurgles around the blood in her mouth. Tears burn her eyes, but the pain is ignored.

The bees come to free her from this torment and a single thought pushes into her head, radiating, pulsing. 'When I get back, I’m going to fucking burn you all.

Drina

Originally posted August 29, 2015 (I tried to find the old transmission video but I'm not sure it's live anymore)

Song: Joy Division - Transmission

Thursday night. Play Anything.

She hears the static on the broadcast and groans, immediately reaching to make an adjustment. But then there's the computer voice.

"What the fuck?" she asks, confused.

'Another fucking Dragon game.'

The voice fades and another starts in. That's when her heart stops.

'Alex.'

For a moment she is completely alone, aware of nothing at all but his voice, a voice she hasn't heard since that night in their apartment. She feels her heartbeat quicken, feels every single hair follicle on her body stand on end, feels her breathing intensify, feels moisture in the corners of her eyes. His voice echoes through her headphones, ringing in her head as if she and he are the only ones left in the world. She blinks. She isn't alone. She's standing on the stage in Ealdwic Park, a crowd full of confused-looking people below her. Instinct briefly kicks in and she turns, ready to flee.

'You're DJing,' she reminds herself, 'You can't run away.'

'Fuck.'

As the broadcast plays, a message from a blocked number pops across her phone. A link to a video. It's Alex in full combat gear, uttering the same words she’s hearing. She can barely process it at first, but then it registers.

Daimon Kiyota is my enemy, he says.

Yeah. That Daimon Kiyota. The Voice of the Dragon.

Life is about to get interesting…

Drina

Originally posted August 20, 2015

Song: Portishead - Roads

Slipping out of her room at the dojang, Medrina hears the muffled words of a familiar voice.

“...Resist. Be a harbinger of chaos…”

The video. Somebody is watching it on their phone. She stays put, there in her doorway, listening as the video ends and a conversation starts up.

“It’s not real,” a man’s voice sounds. He sounds young, and a little nervous as he continues, probably to reassure himself, “I heard it’s a hoax. That’s not even Alex Morgan.”

“No, man, no,” another man speaks, “That’s totally him. I met him a couple times.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, for real! He was there for a couple of my sword training sessions…”

The first guy laughs a little. Medrina creeps out, peeking around the corner to study them. They’re both early twenties, wearing the training uniforms of Dragon recruits. The one with the phone out is taller with red hair and freckles. He’s pale and gangly and looks like he never quite made it out of puberty. The other man is shorter with a solid build and darker features, possibly some mix of Asian and European.

“Anyway,” the shorter man continues, “I heard it is real, but he’s been Filth corrupted. Was on some deep mission out in Kaidan. That place is fucked up.”

The redhead shakes his head, “No, Alex Morgan is locked in an insane asylum here in Seoul. My handler says she brings him his food some days…”

“So your handler deals with recruits and works at a mental institution?” the shorter man’s eyes narrow, doubt in his expression. The willowy redhead shrugs.

“I’ve heard other things, though,” the man with the dark features says to his friend, “That he’s been dead for months, killed in that weird battle in Fusang. Or it could have been Kaidan. It’s all just lies. I also heard he defected and just took off to live a normal life. Something about going back to the midwest with his girlfriend or whatever…”

“Oh! The redhead perks, “No! She’s still around! She’s fuckin’ crazy, too. I guess they lived together here in Seoul and somebody said when he disappeared their place was trashed. And there was blood everywhere… There were rumors going around that she killed him there…”

Medrina smirks.

She takes that moment to step around the corner, causing the conversation to die as both men become about three shades more pale, watching her.

“That's my favorite rumor,” she says, smirk becoming an amused grin.

The two men stare in stunned silence, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

Medrina lifts a hand and finger waves at the silent trainees, then steps past them, heading out for her day.

Drina

A continuation of their story. Originally posted Posted Sep 4, 15 from a roleplay scene with Medrina and Alex.

'Here I am expecting / Just a little bit too much from the wounded / but I see, see through it all / See through, see you
'Cause I threw you the obvious / to see what occurs behind / the Eyes of a fallen angel / Eyes of a tragedy
Oh well, oh well / Apparently nothing / Apparently nothing at all
You don't see me / You don't see me at all'

A Perfect Circle - Three Angels

When Medrina steps through the Brooklyn portal, there's already a text message waiting for her with an address. Following it, she'd soon arrive at an underground parking complex in a run-down industrial area; old buildings in various states of disrepair line the streets, and it's been some time since anyone's used that structure for parking. A maintenance door is thrown wide open, and there's a chalked arrow on the concrete right in front of it, pointing inside.

She's pretty good at navigation, and it doesn't take her long to find the location. Her gaze drifts to the chalk arrow and she can't help but smirk, mumbling, "...subtle."

She's got the casual New York hipster look going right now... Fitted vintage hoodie, skinny jeans tucked into a pair of old combat boots... Her hair is pulled back into a low bun that peeks out from the back of a navy blue snapback cap, a colorful embroidered butterfly on its brim.

There's a moment or two of hesitation. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, the rhythm so intense and heavy she's sure it's echoing in the air around her. She inhales a breath, holding it in her lungs as she finally steps inside.

Alex is lingering in the low light a ways inside, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. His eyes are uncovered, goggles hanging around his neck, and there are no visible weapons on his person - not that that really means anything considering what he can do. Alex's eyes linger on her for a while as she steps through the doorway, but he forces them away, looking to the ground in front of him. He's thinner and paler than she's ever seen him, and more than a week out from shaving.

The first thing he says when Medrina approaches is, "Can I have that phone?"

Her eyes adjust to the light change fairly quickly, pupils simply growing to let in more light, irises staying that tranquil gold. Until she sees him. In that instant, there's an intense flash of yellow. She wants to run to him, throw her arms around him, press herself into him, meld with him... and yet... she also wants to lunge at him, throw him to the ground, pound her fists into his face until it becomes pulp, rip his flesh from bone and make him bleed.

She does neither. Instead, she gives a quick nod and, standing exactly as she is, rigid, tense, trying to will her heart to stop pounding. She thrusts the phone out, holding it with a gloved hand--not the skeleton gloves. These are green and seem slightly over-sized for her hands.

His thin, strong fingers tear the back cover off the Nokia burner and he plucks out the SIM card, his face straining some as he snaps the card in half and pockets it. He drops the phone itself on the concrete floor and stomps it into a dozen pieces under the thick heel of his tactical boot.

After he destroys the phone, Alex clasps his hands behind his back and stands in that way he always does. Fingers clamp painfully tight around the other wrist to kill his instincts to reach out for her.

"I don't know that there was another way," he explains quietly. "I tried and tried, but I couldn't think of one. I'm sorry."

She remains frozen, though the first stomp causes her to flinch. She lets her eyes drop, fixing on the phone as it shatters more and more, watching little pieces of plastic and metal and chips fly.

She dismisses his words with a shrug of slim shoulders, gaze staying down, eyes not quite ready to search his out.

She's certain his words mean something else, but she's not taking the bait.

"It's primitive," half a motion toward the shattered remnants of the phone, "But it works."

Alex's mouth hangs open after she says that. He wants to clarify, to explain that he did what he thought he had to, to protect the people he loves. But he doesn't say a word about that.

"You know what we've been doing?"

Her hand raises and she absently fidgets with one of the hoodie's pullstrings, gloved finger and thumb rolling the cord between them.

"...I have some ideas, yeah."

Alex watches Medrina's fingers twist at the strings of her hooded sweatshirt. He starts a slow nod in reply, chewing at the corner of his bottom lip as he considers his words.

"I don't want your help. I want you to stay far away from me. To move on and be safe."

He swallows hard, shifting in his place.

"But I don't always get what I want. This is about need. About doing what's right and necessary."

She laughs quietly at the words, her gaze finally lifting to his. Her gaze is tense, yellow flickering in the gold, "Move on... It's just that easy, isn't it? Maybe for you..."

"Y-you... You could have had my help all along, Alex..." a pause, "We could have... done this together. I always trusted you. I would have done whatever you wanted..."

Her eyes narrow slightly, expression staying tense, "Instead, you shoved me away and isolated yourself. You kept me doing work you thought was bad and kept me helping what you consider your enemy..."

Alex reaches up, closing his eyes as he rubs his forehead. He's tired and she's right. A defeated sigh escapes his lips as he straightens himself. He doesn't respond to the ease of moving on - because he hasn't. Alex used work, maybe even vengeance, to bury something that wasn't dead, for either of them, and now it's wounded beyond recognition.

He simply replies, "I know. What do you want to do?"

Her head tilts just slightly. Her eyes drift, moving to study his features... his lips, the gaunt, sunken look in his cheeks, the scruff along his jaw. And his eyes, wounded and intense, despite his guarded demeanor.

"...about what?"

Alex wants to apologize, profess, promise, but instead he forces himself to say, "Right now? About helping. This cause. If you feel the same way I do," he stops, words getting stuck his dry, unwilling throat.

"I don't know what I feel yet," she says this quickly, head shaking, "It's all very sudden. I know the Dragon isn't the one who painted a target on my head, but it is the one that stalks me, blatantly. Every day since last Thursday. Then again it's not the only one..."

"I know what happened in Kaidan... I know that's a vengeful act against Gaia, but I know sometimes change isn't pleasant, either. I know a forest needs to burn down to give way for new life. I know a certain someone talked with me of the importance of fluidity... And yet, when I'm there, when I smell the smells, see the ruin, the bodies..." She frowns, looking away again, "That isn't the kind of change I want. And a filth bomb isn't a slow-moving current gently wearing away boulders."

"I saw her," this said after another thoughtful pause, her eyes darting back to Alex. For several moments, as she speaks, the facade is forgotten and it's just... Medrina to Alex, open and unprotected, confused, "When they escorted her away. It... It was like a coup. She was so confused and... and I don't even know how many drugs they had her on, what she remembered, what she didn't..."

Her expression darkens again, "Or what happened next. I still don't know."

Alex's jaw clenches tightly when Medrina's armor falls away. He wants to be tender and comforting, to hold her body against his own. Instead, he stands straight, tall, and unmoving. Behind his back, fingernails dig into his wrist so hard they might draw blood.

"There is always another way," he starts. "One that doesn't corrupt and destroy the lives of people who don't deserve that."

He's probably talking about Kaidan.

Another flash of yellow at those words. She looks ready to lunge for maybe half a second, but maintains that calm almost immediately after.

"Lives get destroyed either way."

A pause, and then, "You know a lot of people think you're crazy, right? Off the deep end from too much time breathing in Filth... That you've been corrupted by it and it's turned you against the only thing you've been loyal to."

"...There's also talk that you're hungry. For power. That you wanted a chance at being the Voice and this is simply a big, messy temper tantrum..."

She laughs a moment, and that facade again drops, "I can't imagine you wanting that sort of power..."

And up it goes again, a dismissive shrug, "Then again, I couldn't imagine lots of things, so..."

A smirk starts to corner on Alex's face as Medrina jests, but it fades quickly. "I told you a long time ago - and I know you haven't forgotten - my war is for Gaia's safe delivery from her corruptors. She is the reason I'm not buried in a grave in Nebraska," he says, gesturing to the west.

"Kaidan is an open wound. I don't want power. I only want to put those who had a hand in wounding her to the blade. If Gaia chooses to favor them - even Daimon himself - after I do so?"

Alex shrugs.

"So be it."

"I know," at the first bit, and Medrina doesn't even need to mention her place with Gaia. That was always part of the deal, even with the Dragon.

Her head shakes quickly, "She won't. She can't."

And as he continues, there is a look of clarity as her expression again softens.

"I'll help you," and then, quickly, "For Gaia."

As Medrina speaks those words, Alex relaxes visibly, his rigidly held form slumping as he bows his head in gratitude - probably in relief and exhaustion, too.

"Good. Thank you."

He fishes something out of his pocket, offering it to her. It's a small device with a no buttons - just a digital numeric display. After, he hands her a note, written in his hand; it's the address of a nearby warehouse.

"This is where we've been. Where we work from."

She steps a little closer, still keeping as much distance as she can between them, as if some magnetic force might bind them if she doesn't. She reaches for the device, examining it curiously. The note is taken as well, though given much less attention. A single word registers in her head, resonating.

"We," she repeats.

"I'm still just the claws and fire," Alex explains, once more clasping his hands behind his back. "There are others who feel the way we do. A monk who shed his vows. Theorists. I was picked to help breathe life into this thing - quickly, quietly."

He nods to her. "And now I pick the person I trust most to help me keep it alive."

She nods with his words, and has to briefly bite her tongue as he continues, tasting her own blood in her saliva. She doesn't linger on the sentiment of those words, quickly propelling the conversation.

"I met a man. Manson Pledge. Claims he was a silent monk who was blessed by Gaia. The bee changed his course. He carries a magic briefcase full of all sorts of things. He wasn't very friendly..." an intentional pause, "At first. But then he found out who I was, and my, ah... previous... connection to you and his demeanor changed immediately. He was receptive, curious, and he gave me a gift... something just minutes prior he'd said I couldn't afford."

"I don't think his intentions toward you are friendly... and he's worth keeping an eye on, getting more out of... If he... assumes I'm still not in touch with you, he might be useful."

Alex nods slowly as Medrina explains the situation with Manson, his brows furrowing deeply with worry. The wheels turn in his head for a minute after she's finished and he finally nods.

"I've never heard of him. But you're right," he says, studying Medrina for a moment. "It's better if you maintain that we've had no contact. I'll give them reason to keep a target painted on me. You use your skills to fight a softer war out in the open; information, influence, finding others to help us."

He pauses a moment to consider. "Bring in other people you trust as you see fit."

She nods, "I... I can do more, obviously. It's just that anything I do should probably be shrouded... Just, you know, so people continue to trust me?"

"And that way I can get you--or... Us? Information as I get it. I know there are others who don't trust what's happened. I'll test the waters with them. See where things go. And if anybody seems useful...?"

A pause, and then she continues as thoughts surface in her head.

"Evelyn thinks you need swaying," she cants her head as she watches, "Need to... Come to your senses, I think she said? I've been putting feelers out, though. I'll continue to do so."

Nodding along with Medrina, Alex seems pleased with both her plans and her focus. "People do trust you," he agrees. "I don't want that to change. For any fighting out in the open you have to do? Ski masks are cheap. It will be fine," Alex jokes, offering a small smile.

Alex shakes his head when Evelyn is mentioned. "There is no way to spin this, to rationalize it in a way that will sway me from this purpose. I was stung in my dying throat years before the bomb. Daimon's inaction didn't save me."

He shoots his eyes to the doorway and the look on his face is one Medrina is painfully familiar with; the pull of duty that doesn't allow him to simply be.

"But his inaction is the catalyst for what I've become, here and now. When you throw a boulder into a pond, don't complain that your shoes got wet."

She gives the smallest of smiles at the mention of ski masks. Does he really think, after all these years, she doesn't know how to protect her own identity? She doesn't comment. Instead she continues to listen quietly, letting him speak and watching, nodding. She sees the shift of his features as he glances toward the door and for a moment it's just too big of a reminder of what was and what isn't. Her features drop and she glances in the same direction, if only to mask her face.

"I guess I should be the one to go this time," she hesitates a moment or two, then takes a couple careful steps backwards.

Another pause, and she fishes something out of her hoodie, tossing it to him.

"Here."

It's a plastic baggy of dried meat of some kind. She doesn't go into details.

She raises one hand, fingers barely curling to wave, then starts to turn, eyes squeezing shut to stop an unexpected wave of emotion.

"I-I'll be seeing you, Alex."

And she leaves, heading back into the sunlight and skulking off, pace quickening with each step she takes as she tries to distance herself from the overwhelming amount of feelings suddenly flooding in. She told Andjela she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle it. Andj, reassuring, had said she could. Medrina is still not sure, but she knows one thing: even if she can't, she must.

Drina

(( I left this roleplay soon after, and I still regret what amazingly cool things we could have created. I need to make a point of saying Hex was an amazing RP partner and very gracious about this whole story above. It was a weird time in my life, and I was in a pretty rough emotional headspace when I wrote all my story pieces above. Alex's and Medrina's story was always very unique to me and forever holds a special place in my heart. Thank you Hex for that time and being so easy to write with/about. <3 ))