A Convenient Rabbit Hole
Apr. 6th, 2014 11:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
regimes_fallHow long had she been gone? It'd felt like months, or perhaps even years since Natasha had stepped inside the Nexus hotel, but her room had been exactly as she left it and nothing had changed. It was unsettling, the leap in time that took place between what Natasha knew as 'home' and the hotel in which she'd spent months, but she had to figure it was something that would inevitably work to her benefit. All of her covers were blown, there was no safe place on Earth for her just now, and that was why she found herself here, grateful for the refuge and nearly crawling out of her skin with a sense of exposure.
The first step had been to cut her hair, to change the shade of red and bring back the curls, though it was halfhearted effort at best. Who with an internet connection and any desire to look at trending news would be fooled by a hair style? She would be facing people en mass for the first time in her life with all of who she was, what little good was in her and the whole fuckton of bad, out on the table. It made her nauseous, for all that she'd done it with the knowledge that it was the right and honorable thing. The only issue being things like 'rightness' and 'honor' were like new shoes that just didn't quite fit on her feet. She could wear them, but they chafed at her skin and left blisters and blood in their wake.
She had remained in her room perhaps far longer than was necessary, contemplating hiding there and spending her time getting so drunk on Russian Standard that the billboard that had become her life would no longer matter. It was a weak thing, a cowardly thing, and those things suited Natasha no better than rightness and honor. So, with her chin up she made her way down to the lobby, glancing around before deciding to make her way to the restaurant for food.
The first step had been to cut her hair, to change the shade of red and bring back the curls, though it was halfhearted effort at best. Who with an internet connection and any desire to look at trending news would be fooled by a hair style? She would be facing people en mass for the first time in her life with all of who she was, what little good was in her and the whole fuckton of bad, out on the table. It made her nauseous, for all that she'd done it with the knowledge that it was the right and honorable thing. The only issue being things like 'rightness' and 'honor' were like new shoes that just didn't quite fit on her feet. She could wear them, but they chafed at her skin and left blisters and blood in their wake.
She had remained in her room perhaps far longer than was necessary, contemplating hiding there and spending her time getting so drunk on Russian Standard that the billboard that had become her life would no longer matter. It was a weak thing, a cowardly thing, and those things suited Natasha no better than rightness and honor. So, with her chin up she made her way down to the lobby, glancing around before deciding to make her way to the restaurant for food.
