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Text and Voicemail box
Jan. 1st, 2027 12:11 amYou have reached the voicemail box of phone number xxx-xxx-xxxx. Please leave a message after the tone.
TEXT MESSAGING ENABLED.
TEXT MESSAGING ENABLED.
Natasha stepped through the door and into a world gone white with snow, the air bitter and biting, but as familiar on the bare skin of her face as a mother’s kiss. She blinked into a gust of wind, the spray of snow clinging to her lashes and her hair as she tipped her head up and looked around for any immediate source of danger. All was muted by the snow, and the cabin about thirty feet away had light in the windows, for all she could see no tracks surrounding.
There was danger everywhere, she wasn’t so stupid as to believe anywhere was safe until she’d checked it herself, but there was a certain element of comfort to the bite of frosty winds and the soft crunch of snow beneath her feet. Something about the whole situation that reminded her of somewhere else, and nowhere at all. Somewhere that made her want to stay, if only for a little while, to preserve that feeling.
Looking around, she left the door standing open behind her as she stepped down into the snow, which was deeper than she’d expected, and pulled the hood of her jacket up over her hair as she began to make her way toward the cabin.
There was danger everywhere, she wasn’t so stupid as to believe anywhere was safe until she’d checked it herself, but there was a certain element of comfort to the bite of frosty winds and the soft crunch of snow beneath her feet. Something about the whole situation that reminded her of somewhere else, and nowhere at all. Somewhere that made her want to stay, if only for a little while, to preserve that feeling.
Looking around, she left the door standing open behind her as she stepped down into the snow, which was deeper than she’d expected, and pulled the hood of her jacket up over her hair as she began to make her way toward the cabin.
A telling of tales.
May. 26th, 2015 12:07 pmThe pizza had been bought as sort of a buffer, a momentary distraction that had meant to act as a prelude to what Natasha had hoped to get to eventually. It had evolved into drinking as they ate, and somehow they'd wound up curled in his nest bed with their pizza and the remnants of their drinks, Natasha's currently held in one hand on the pillow beside her head where she lay otherwise relaxed and pleasantly full.
"A nest bed really was one of your better ideas," she said as she craned her head to look at Clint, but instead found herself trailing a drop of condensation where it eased down the outside of her glass. She stopped it with her thumb, somehow concerned that it might make the pillow wet when there was already no doubt a cold ring of wetness where her glass had rested. It was all a distraction, she thought. She could smell what was coming like a storm in the air, and it left her feeling far too unsettled to think on it outright. Instead, she nudged at Clint with her foot. "I had a weird dream the other night that you were married."
"A nest bed really was one of your better ideas," she said as she craned her head to look at Clint, but instead found herself trailing a drop of condensation where it eased down the outside of her glass. She stopped it with her thumb, somehow concerned that it might make the pillow wet when there was already no doubt a cold ring of wetness where her glass had rested. It was all a distraction, she thought. She could smell what was coming like a storm in the air, and it left her feeling far too unsettled to think on it outright. Instead, she nudged at Clint with her foot. "I had a weird dream the other night that you were married."
