[complete/closed] Characters: Set (voiceofthunder) & Nephthys (descendwith) Date/Time: March, pre-event seventeen Location: NYC streets, back of a taxi Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Set is a good warning, always. ♥ Summary: Is this the way former spouses should meet? ...yes.
Rain. Like most people, Altan's opinion of the rain seemed to shift from day to day depending on how convenient it was for him at the time. This particular day, it was the very last thing he wanted to see. Sure, the weather had been warming up, but he was still carrying a stack of papers and folders that he would've preferred to not get wet. Had he not wanted coffee before heading back home, he probably would have been better off. Instead he now sat in the cafe for about five extra minutes just wondering if the rain was going to let up. He knew that there was just no way that he was going to walk all the way back to the subway entrance, and waiting for the bus was also pretty much out of the question.
Finding a cab was the only answer. Huffing in what was still only minor irritation, he popped the collar of his coat and looked out at the sidewalk again. There was always a cab in sight, it was just a matter of whether or not he could catch one quickly. And thankfully the sidewalk didn't seem overly occupied. He finally stepped out to take his chances.
She'd gotten through a double-shift and found the rain to be mostly a curse. It made the traffic less likely to be quicker which meant she wouldn't be home sooner but the rain was refreshing - almost. It seemed like all smells of the city amplified nearly how it did during the summer heat.
But like with just about everything, Nephthys had come to accept it. Isis she was not and could not be. In all truth, that was just fine. She wasn't moping, she wasn't going to sulk or kick her feet about things? If the situation became truly unbearable, she'd find a solution - quietly. And less deviously unlike the last time something was unbearable.
Best to not think about that now. A taxi was needed and when she saw her own chance, she hopped out into the street, barely avoiding a puddle that would have splashed up God-knew-what on her scrubs. And as the taxi came to a half, her fingers had just brushed the handle of the door when she realized she had competition for it.
Nephthys felt she'd seen that face before, the little pictures on the community making it hard for her to place him immediately. But how she loathed fighting for cabs (she didn't always win those battles), especially now that it was raining. She didn't want to tell him to wait for another, not in this awful weather yet waiting herself was not an option. Dismay tucked away, her face schooled to not reveal anything, she asked, "Are you headed home?"
A cab. And then a woman. Altan was all too prepared to huff and stomp around in obvious annoyance, if not just yell that he had been there first. However, all of that had been prevented by her question that may or may not have been generosity. He didn't take too long to think of it though, as he didn't want to stand out in the rain much longer than he had to. Giving a quick nod, he stepped closer to the cab.
There was a strange, but brief, familiarity with her face. There were plenty of people in New York. If you hung around the same areas long enough it really wasn't anything unusual to vaguely recognize someone even if you didn't necessarily know them or see them often. He didn't question it for the moment, simply tilting his head at her and giving her a quick look over. Scrubs. Were she not in a uniform he may have wondered if she was a tourist.
"Does it matter where I'm heading if I'm going in the wrong direction?" Altan questioned, simultaneously criticizing her choice of words. He had lived in New York long enough to have to deal with some tourist going in the wrong direction at least once. Giving that she clearly worked somewhere she had at least lived there for some about of time. Still, he never missed a chance to nitpick at someone.
Taking a moment to look around, he pointed to his left. "I'm heading that way. Good enough?"
Perhaps there were a number of people who might have bristled at the questions but she herself found that people had their reasons for being the way they were. It wasn't an excuse but now was far from the time to wonder or even inquire. Nephthys' feet were aching. That took precedence over all else.
The door was yanked open before the words were even out of her mouth. "Let's go then. I'm headed in the same direction." And across the seat she went, wasting no more time and disinterested in leaving him to catch something from standing out in the rain much longer. It was decency, plain and simple.
Her attention was briefly directed to the cab driver, informing him where she wanted to be let off and that her companion was heading down a similar way. The remaining details were for him to offer naturally but the more that was gotten out of the way the quicker they could move and the fast she would be in her apartment, bundled in bed.
There was no time wasted in sitting in the cab after she hopped in. Then with some quick directions and gestures, he explained to the driver where it was he was heading. Taking a cab all of the way back to his apartment would've been a little too much, but he wanted to get on a station as close t the area as he could. He didn't need to be transferring a bajillion times when he was now wet and feeling a bit cranky. And they were off.
He leaned back in the seat and ruffled a hand through his hair to try and smooth out the moisture. Then he decided to check on what he had been carrying. The outside folder was wet, but for the most part the pages seemed fine. Only some ink from a few pen scribblings smeared when he tried to brush off the water. It wasn't much, but thus preceded a strand of grumblings under his breath before he decided to turn his attention to whatever was out the window, and inevitably back to her.
"So you work back there?" He asked off hand. He didn't entirely care to know, but he was a bit curious. It would've been a good way to figure out where he remembered seeing her at least. So there was to be conversation. Unexpected and though she did believe Isis excelled in social behaviour where as she flounders, she could manage neatly enough if she had to. And the back of a cab was a place where once couldn't really escape.
"At the hospital, yes." Fingers idly plucked the leg of her scrub bottoms. "I'm a nurse." Unable to figure out what he did, she wondered if he would find it intrusive to ask. There was just something about him, something that she wanted to figure out before they parted in case it bothered her while she attempted sleep. "And what do you do?"
"I figured. You smell a bit like a hospital," he noted. While it was said with too much indifference to necessarily be an insult, it wasn't exactly a compliment either. And he knew it. He also knew that she didn't smell bad, he just had a sensitive nose and could notice something like that when stuck in a cab.
It wasn't a job he could ever imagine having to do, wherever she worked in the hospital. Not because people claimed it was difficult, but because he had terrible bedside manners and he didn't care for whiney sick people in general. He wasn't afraid to admit that. "I certainly wouldn't want to do it. I'm a percussionist." Altan held up one of the pieces of sheet music for example. "Not in a band, but in an orchestra." Clarifying that was always crucial. He was too proud of the differences for it to be mistaken.
A mild but thoughtful little frown appeared. "I know. Though I don't really notice anymore. I'm sorry." And it was better to make an apology than assume anything. It didn't cost her that much in this case. "And it's not a job for most." It wasn't about having a giving heart as much as patience or even numbing one's self to the least pleasant realities in a hospital. And then progress could be made.
The sheet music was peered at but it wasn't something she was going to comprehend like him. But for him to understand it was an interesting point, as much as his need to define that he was not in a band. But musicians, those that she had known, were personalities that were frequently...temperamental. It was the passion, Nephthys supposed but the moods, the emotion. Her mind dared to wander elsewhere but she caught it and reeled it back, distracting herself by replying.
"That must be stressful at times, I think. To work and practice until everyone's in harmony with one another," she admitted. "But beautiful in the end."
He couldn't help but laugh at her comment. In fact, he did a bit more than he even should've. It wasn't really that funny, and there was some truth to the idea. However, that was never what music had been to him.
Finally, he shook his head and shrugged as he tucked the sheet music back into a folder, an amused grin still wide on his face. "It's not always quite like that. It can be stressful, because ever song is a battle. It doesn't matter how hard everyone works or practices, if there isn't a leader to beat his army into submission, the whole thing falls through." That was an interesting theory that perhaps wasn't too different from what she was saying. It was just a different tone to the scenario that he related to a lot more than peacefully making harmony with everyone. He just had too many disagreements with others in the past to think of it as a simple matter of teamwork and beauty.
"And I suppose nursing is a battle to keep people alive and well, right? Ever kill anyone?" Though aware of just how insensitive his question was, he still felt compelled to ask her. Her simple apology to his other rude comment certainly didn't dissuade him.
And Nephthys couldn't help but stare at him for laughing, wondering if his seemingly normal appearance was a lie. The explanation was heard and she worked it out in her head that, while she still didn't see what was that funny, he liked achievement through fight. How very male.
"Beat his army into submission? I never thought music to be so violent. Emotional, yes. But 'battle' and 'army'. It sounds like the creation could lead a man to an early demise.
"With nursing, it's both what you said and about comfort. Sometimes you can't keep someone alive. It might be more cruel." Her lips pursed briefly in thought, offensive not visible or audible. "Though I haven't...dabbled in euthanasia, if that's what to you meant. Not that a sane person would admit that in the first place."
"Really?" That was an interesting point that he didn't expect to be brought up in a casual conversation. Especially not from some random nurse he had just met through the necessity of needing a cab on a rainy day. Keeping someone alive when it was simply cruel to was definitely an issue that had been brought up by plenty of people though. It wasn't a thought that had escaped him entirely. However, as it did not directly affect him, he was rather indifferent to it at the same time. When asked, though, he knew that he would have to agree that people should not be kept alive if they didn't want to be.
Altan nodded in agreement. Perhaps not so much in a reassurance, but there was that at least. His reasoning was probably not what she was thinking though. "Maybe they wouldn't admit it, but they're at least thinking it. If someone wants to die, I say let them just die. Waste of air and space otherwise."
"Really." There was enough suffering. Forcing one to remain alive when in hideous amounts of pain they could pass peacefully into the arms of death was senseless to her. A sign that people clung too hard to life without understanding all things had to end. Even among the immortals, things ended. Osiris did, though he was returned through the greatest of efforts. Her marriage, on the other hand, died and remained that way.
Something she should not be thinking of this moment. Her fingers rubbed at her temple as she processed another reply. "We all have a reason to be here." Though what hers was, she wasn't sure. Beyond being a nurse, she who protected the deceased and guided them had no idea what she was to do in this world. She could only assure, could only watch and do what little was in her power.
Finding her reason for existing as a human would something of a relief.
He shook his head in disagreement. "That's not always true. Everyone's looking for a reason to be here, but over half the world's population doesn't have one." He knew that he couldn't really think of one for himself either. He was a musician and was always driven to succeed in his field. And he was indeed succeeding. However, there had always been something else. He wanted and needed more than that, but he had yet to think of a proper reason or goal. He wouldn't let himself sink into ideas of complacency though.
"Not that I support genocide. Disposable people are nice to have around."
Her lips formed a faint but amused smile. "I think being disposable counts as a reason, despite the level of cruel it is. There's a chain and not everyone can be at the top though."
Silence struck her a moment as unwanted thoughts came, wanting attention. Feeling it no harm, she spoke again. "But I knew a man once who had been displeased with his lot in life and committed some deeds that, I feel, were not forgivable. So he lost a good deal but he found his way to some measure of greatness, I suppose." Being with Ra was nothing to turn one's nose up at, she knew that well. "It wasn't exactly what he wanted but he managed to get somewhere. He was not...a disposable sort. I know he would have allowed that fate to be his."
At first Altan gave a shrug and a nod. She had a point. Even if it was hardly a good reason the world needed plenty of disposable people in it. Like in chess, every king needed his pawns. However, her story about some man struck a small chord. He readjusted himself in his seat uncomfortably and frowned. That theme had been played out in hundreds of books, films, and plays. It wouldn't have been unfamiliar to him regardless of the situation. It just seemed off to hear.
"Is that really so wrong?" He could sympathize with the situation. His terrible attitude wasn't the only reason he lacked a large number of friends. It wasn't easy to get to the top of anything, and sometimes enemies had to be made. "If you want something that badly sometimes you have to get your hands dirty. Does it matter if a few people hate you if you can't be happy with yourself?"
Some women would have thought 'such a man, agreeing with the actions of another of his sex'. Nephthys thought 'Set would have liked him'. The thought triggered a physical response, however. Her fingers curled around the strap of her purse, the point of white knuckles but after a slow countdown from ten to one, colour returned to her hands.
"At the expense of anything? Even your family, your...wife? A man's happiness matters and I understand that. I would...want that for most, I think. To just find a way to be pleased with yourself. But would everything around you be expendable?" She looked at him, neither condemning nor judging him for his thoughts. A part of her still just wanted to understand beyond the willful, impossible nature of her once-husband. "Or am I speaking as a sentimental woman, one who wishes some men would think a little more before proceeding?"
"If it's something that matters, then yes, at the expense of anything. More often than not, if you're that focused on one thing, everything else is just not a factor. Maybe an outside variable at best..." He trailed off in thought, taking a moment to glance out the window and check where they were, his heel still tapping impatiently. "I'd say you're just speaking as a sentimental woman. It's all about thought. All you do is think. When there's something you want that badly, something you need, you spend every waking hour thinking of that and how to reach your goals. Everything is expendable, because nothing else matters. It consumes you. All it takes is for something to break. One thing to snap. And a person would do anything. Even if it meant destroying everything else they might have had, they remain certain that it was the right choice. He had to-"
Pausing, he realized he was rambling. Why he was rambling on as if he had yet to really occur to him. It wasn't really that big of an issue to him. That went even more so for her desire to understand. And really it didn't even apply to who he knew himself as anymore. He had done some pretty terrible things to people without any consideration of them, but it had never been that bad. It had never been an obsession. Though he could imagine it. Altan looked back at her almost a bit offended.
"I'm sorry, how did we get on this conversation again? Do you always ask weird personal questions to the people you meet in cabs?"
As he had spoken, Nephthys had been paying attention, from his words to that tapping foot. Perhaps she was bound to not be as much of a fighter, to remain sentimental and was that so bad? She had, in a sense, fought twice, both times with serious and unforgettable outcomes. With that in mind, it wasn't a surprise to her she hesitated from wanting more than what was on her plate.
She wondered what she would do, though, if provoked once more. Behave as if lessons were not learned? I dearly hope not.
"With alarming frequency," she offered, hardly meaning it while noting the cab had slowed. Fishing out the appropriate amount from her purse, it was handed over to the driver through the slot. The door was opened, one foot going out - straight into a puddle. The second was more fortunate but she turned back to him just as she got out of the cab. "Apologies if I did overstep somehow, even unintentionally. It's been a long day that's nearly over. But you did give me some things to consider about that man I mentioned." A moment's hesitation (all she could afford while getting soaked all over again) and then she added, "He had been someone dear to me. I needed the insight so thank you for that much."
He looked her over again, quickly, but a bit more suspiciously than he had before. Not that he knew what he was looking for, or why he was bothering. There was just something that felt off about what she had said. And definitely not the good or just slightly confused sort of off. He was simultaneously ready and not ready for the conversation to just end there. A curiousness had been raised even though he had no desire to keep talking about the issue that had suddenly come up.
It seemed like the best option just to let her leave and let the subject drop for good. It wasn't like he wanted anything to do with some strangers personal life anyway. Wanting to ask her name at the least, but not allowing himself to do it, Altan just rolled his eyes at her. As to be expected from a man with his level of maturity.
"Yeah, well, I'd say get over yourself then. And get home before you drown in a puddle."
He'd be mature enough to not attempt to fight her for the cab. There was no more for her to expect beyond that much consideration (or maybe she was a bit of a doormat).
The lack of name exchange didn't bother her too much, partially because she wasn't forward enough to ask. What was meant to be would be and that was that. Even if she was more than likely going to wonder about the stranger who, in the back of a cab, asked her if she had killed anyone with amusing frankness.
"The same wishes for you, sir." The cab door was then closed and she hurried toward her apartment building. Hot tea and a pile of blankets awaited her, to whisk her thoughts off of the day and the past itself. Once-husbands could not be found at the bottom of a tea cup, thankfully.