[ This really wasn't how it was supposed to go down. All of the planning, all of the setup turned out to be for nothing, because of one small, almost insignificant slip-up. But for Selina, that little, insignificant slip-up was the difference between making a clean getaway and leaving considerably richer than when she started.
Oh, she knew about all the stuck-up people who would wag their fingers and tut at her about right and wrong. But when there was a mark like the one she'd had her eye on? She reminded herself that the world was not black and white, but rather, full of shades of grey. The man in the sizeable yet somewhat isolated mansion on the outskirts of the city that was average in size was no saint himself. The tabloids and the respectable newspapers alike both hinted at the possibility that there was something else lurking below the surface of the man's outward persona of benevolence and charity. Strangely enough, this particular man reminded her of another eccentric billionaire who, as far as she knew, had disappeared off the face of the planet. But the similarities didn't carry over very far. But like Bruce Wayne, Selina's mark knew a thing or two about self-defense.
The proof of that was printed quite clearly on Selina's side, near her ribcage. She knew the man she was targeting had a store of weapons, and that he was more than capable of using them, but she hadn't anticipated nearly walking right into him in a corridor and getting a gash from a sword's blade for her trouble.
Really, who even used swords anymore?
But luckily for Selina, wound or no wound, she was still fast on her feet, and even though she could feel the blood seeping out, she was still in control of her reflexes. She managed to get away, albeit empty-handed, but at least she was alive for the moment.
Her base of operations for this whole caper had been a cabin that she'd rented under a false name and a fake ID. It was there that she returned to, hoping that the falling snow would cover her tracks. And even with the unexpected injury, she'd been careful not to let any blood drip on the ground. Tracks and drops of blood would only lead people right to her, and she knew better than to think that the man she'd tried to rob would let this go unreported. She just hoped that no one would think to search the cabins for a possible suspect.
All she needed was a little time to patch herself up and then she could be on her way. What she hadn't accounted for was a stranger who'd apparently made himself at home in the cabin while she'd been away. As she made her approach, she saw a shadow at the window, and she frowned. Surely it was just a misunderstanding, and he'd let himself into the wrong one. But that didn't leave her with many options; she couldn't very well approach in her present condition, because of all the questions that would raise.
She knew that the cabins next door were already locked, having already cased the area, so she knew she didn't have many options here. Pulling her coat around herself, hoping that would temporarily prevent whoever was inside from noticing she was sporting a fresh injury, she drew in a breath and opened the door. ]
[ Most people in the high society knew either self-defense or hired personal guard. Selina always did tend to go too high. Her eyes were always set on the bar above her, then the next, then the next. Always reaching until she felt satisfied. Not that it ever lasted long. He could only say that because it was the same for him.
Gotham always came first.
He heard the door to the cabin and straightened his back. No doubt she'drecognize his silhouette. It's not as if she's a stranger to his height, build, multitude of scars. Though she might have surprised to see he was even out there to see her. Maybe. He supposed it depends on how upset she is.
Bruce turned as she entered the room. ]
Selina.
[ His voice was soft, but not quiet distant. Guarded--giving her the space she needed. She was always like a cat. She'd come by when she wanted, look for affection when she wanted, then left when she wanted. It was in her nature. ]
[ That much was true, and Selina wouldn't disagree, but she'd known the risks and she'd gone ahead with it anyway. As far as she was concerned, it was what people called a calculated risk. If it had succeeded, it would have been worth it. Now, though, she was going to be more prepared and armed with knowledge should she ever want to attempt this caper again.
For now, her plan was to just lick her wounds and regroup before deciding what her next steps were. Her first step was literally right in front of her, starting with that silhouette at the window. It was one she knew well, but the bigger question was what was he doing here? What could he possibly want? If it was to kick her when she was already down, well, that was a low blow and possibly out of character, but she was a little too tired to tease out that train of thought. ]
Bruce.
[ She tilted her head to one side, giving him her best appraising look that she'd perfected over the years. ]
What brings you to my humble abode? [ A temporary one, but details. ] I see you haven't learned about not breaking and entering.
[ And yes, she knew the irony of that statement, considering what she did for a living. She just couldn't help herself. ]
Ah, bloody hell, [ it's muttered under her breath and to herself.
Being a doctor is a curse at times. She can judge the wound, it's length, how deep it goes, and what a danger it is merely by running her fingers along it. That and the blood that is starting to seep into her shirt and down her back. It's a wide gash, having gone at least down to the muscle. Helen sucks her breath in and pushes herself from the front door.
Stuck in a cabin that operates as a satellite for the Sanctuary Network. T he same old story. A rare abnormal was on the lose, and it was better to attempt to contain it to its territory than let it wander into the civilization beyond the woods as the snow storm hit. Then, as par usual, the snow storm escalated. The interesting thing about this abnormal? It was rather docile itself, but, always had another species that would protect it. she must have gotten too close -- at least it was only a few meters back to the cabin.
Helen stumbles into the living room and straightens herself. Bad move. She instantly regrets it, grabbing onto the arm of the couch to steady herself. There had been a hope to hide the injury from her cabin mate. Except it's bleeding a fair amount. Funny, really. She's the one that is supposed to fuss. ]
It's scared, [ she goes on as if it's not obvious she's wounded. ] And it's protector is highly aggressive. If anything, we'll need to wait until their natural sleep cycle kicks in... which, given the storm...
[ Helen's rather put out about that and not the injury. If she is to be entirely honest. ]
[ Once the weather really started moving in on them, he was already whinging. Of course it was mainly for show. Then Helen insisted they split up and try and cover more ground. He should've been more damned adamant about that telling her to sod off with that particular suggestion.
Now that he's finally looped back around to her, half-tucked up under her arm as they trudge through the deepening snow drifts, a glowing wisp to guide the way so they don't wind up freezing to death out there, he's abnormally quiet. He lets her talk, in part cause it's good that she can still manage it.
The other part is his anger will do little good in the present moment so best to shelve it for now. Anger is easier than worry, anger is like a flame burning up, worry is like a vice-grip on his heart and choking the air out of his throat. He has to let her go to get the door shut and the lights back on. Shrugging out of his coat, he tosses it over the back of a chair and stares balefully at the unlit fireplace. He'll sort it in a moment. ]
It's not the only thing around these parts feeling particularly aggressive. [ Gritted out through his teeth as he goes back to her. ] Lean on me, need to get you laying down so I can have a look.
[ Ah, Helen knows that tone. Especially that body language -- although it's never been really directed at her before. She almost wants to make a quip in an attempt to lighten the mood; to reassure him. Helen has had far worse than this injury in her long life. In fact, she'd even argue the emotional and mental injuries brought upon a certain someone are worse...
Ultimately, however, she knows better.
They always say that doctors are the worst patients.
One hand raises to grab his arm, steadying herself as she moves to remove her long winter coat. Rather ridiculous considered its cut down the back and whatever heat retention it had is far gone out the window. She does as he asks, leaning towards him as she struggles but stubbornly refuses to simply let him do it all. ]
I could tell you exactly where it is, possibly how deep it is, and how wide... but I doubt that would help.
[ They've both dealt with too much of this for their likings over time. Of course her experience in this matter far outweighs his own. She is a doctor after all. And he has no doubt she's suffered worse than this. Those times were also probably in areas not the bloody wilderness.
While she grabs his arm to steady herself, he stays still enough to not jostle so much. The coat is ruined which is enough to prove the grim extent of the wound. If she's going to be so stubborn then he utters a soft incantation, eyes glowing in amber briefly before flame alights atop his open palm and with a flick of his wrist ignites the fire in the hearth. ]
Love, the only thing I need to know right now is if this is something I can fix here with the kit you've got and whatever else is in this ruddy house.
There is a first aid kit, yes, but I doubt it can fix the injury. Patch it up until we're able to return to civilization.
[ She gives him a bit of a pointed look before nodding slightly. Helen gently leans to the side as the fire comes to life in his hand. Best just to give him room - just in case.
In the mean time, she shreds the coat. Then she goes about the delicate task of removing her shirt in order to better see the wound. ]
I would say that depends far more on your patience than it does mine, John.
[ It says in so many words 'I've no idea.' Storms can last days and she'd find a way to soldier and muster on. She doubts John would let that stand. She could simply see him betting the dice and opening a portal to hop them somewhere. Though, she is saving that as an utter last resort. ]
Hm. I'll make sure to find one that is free of things that bang on about them.
[ A playful remark in an attempt to ease the situation. She moves with his direction, knowing that he's going to fuss in his own way. The wound is certainly one made of claw marks. A few inches deep into the skin. The shirt is soaked in blood and rather glued to her skin in that regard. Helen scrunches her face up in pain when he can't see it. ]
I'd say it more depends on how you're faring once we've got this more manageable.
[ John's mouth turns down into a frown. He doesn't like the uncertainty but he understands it. He doesn't like the idea of being stuck out there out of the range of aid with her hurt as she is. Right now, he doesn't have to chance the barmy idea of opening a portal, but he might have to consider it as a contingency. ]
Good luck in this town.
[ A chance at humor that he doesn't really feel. No, he's too tense for all that and too focused on seeing what he can do for her. Once the jacket is free, it is just the ruined shirt failing at covering anything up. His jaw tenses and he reaches up to gently touch her shoulder, away from the wounds. ]
It doesn't look like it tickles, love. I'll get the kit.
[ She has half the mind to tell him to stop being so dodgy about how bad the wound is. Doctors could make terrible patients, but, she has an inkling of how horrid it must look. Her head turns to look over her shoulder with her eyebrows raised. ]
There is absolutely no need to sugarcoat the situation with me, John.
[ Even if she suspects it has far more to do with how he himself is handling it than her.
Regardless of the reason, she nods to his statement. Once he is up and about? She starts to slowly try and remove her shirt. A low hiss escapes her at it. It feels like pulling off a bandaid in a way. Which means extensive blood loss and no doubt she'll start feeling the effects of that rather soon. ]
Bloody hell.
You choose on the roulette wheel of time! Early days? Elsewhen? Post-series?
He looked down at his boots as they crunched in the snow. He'd always liked that sound. The park was pristine, the snow barely having stopped. The night was rapidly drawing in, and the air was so crisp it made one feel alive.
Which, logically, he knew, was a complex biological process at play, making it all feel so remarkable. But he, alone among the Five, was the romantic; the believer - much as Druitt had once claimed to be the former. To his mind, at least, that had all been an act. So much had been pretense between them all, and so much not. He looked over at her, lifting the collar of an exquisitely tailored black coat as she walked beside him.
Helen tilted her head back, letting the brunette curls call over her shoulders. A long sigh comes from her as she crosses her arms over her bust. It is pristine, but, certainly cold. Winter always was.
"Have you noticed that the world is never as peaceful as it is when it snows?" She glanced at him, then nodded to the park around them. "Everything stills. It becomes quiet. It easily leaves one to their thoughts and memories."
"We're a metaphorical species," he replied, watching her for a moment, before she glanced at him. How was it that she seemed to grow more beautiful with time? As if wisdom added something more to the already absurdly sexy confidence.
"We love the idea of the tabula rasa, and combine that with the freshness of the air...I think it makes us reflective, by and large. Gives us all that moment, like right before a pen is put to paper, or a brush to canvas."
"'We'? I wasn't aware you counted yourself outside the vampire race." She teased him gently with a small smile touching her mouth. He prided him so much on the fact that it was hard not to poke a bit of fun when she felt he misspoke. No doubt he'll correct her shortly.
A hum followed the smile. "You're certainly feeling metaphorical."
"One lives and one learns," he retorted. "Meeting the Queen of the Vampires and finding out she's a cheap, tarty, Saturday Matinee villain doesn't exactly help one's cherished illusions. No, my dreams about resurrecting the knowledge and wisdom of Sanguine Vampiris are well and truly dead. Staked through the heart, you might say."
A sign of how far he'd come that he'd even make that joke, really. He looked over at her.
"No, it's back to the old dream - use my gifts to try to improve the human lot. I kind of missed them, you know? The heady days of Niagara, and Wardenclyffe."
As for the last, well.
"I am always metaphorical, somewhere underneath. The part of me that's always the little kid from the Serbian version of the sticks."
Helen can't help but give him a sad smile to the story. Being there had been one thing, yet hearing Nikola speak of it in the manner he was? It was bittersweet. Although it did show he had grown some in the last few years. Instead of chasing grandeur he was off to improve humanity once again. Maybe he even found humanity appealing or worth it after their adventure with the Queen.
"The days where you had actually hoped? My, my, Nikola. You truly are feeling nostalgic." Still, she shakes her head. "It's a good thing. Your gifts and talents were always best used when it was working towards improving the state of your fellow man. Even if you are a different species."
She gave a knowing nod. "Deep down we're all still those children on some level. Perhaps we never really grew up in that regard."
The world was still full of the unknown and wonder for her. It didn't matter the events of the last few years. The secret societies, the ulterior motives. She still found the world to be breathtaking and full of things to learn.
"My father always told me, he said: 'Nikola, my boy, the beauty of God's creation is infinite. Everything we learn merely reveals more holy mystery.'"
He smiled, fondly, eyes somewhere in the past.
"He wasn't wrong." That was the other thing, of them he had always been the believer, never falling into the trap of thinking that science and belief were two separate, warring factions. He and Gould had gotten along, really. He missed ol' Stephen.
"Fresh pages, fresh starts, fresh snow," he added, "so yes, back to basics. I spent too many years trying to bring back what was, when all my strengths were creating what should be."
He paused, turning towards her.
"And I never said that I was sorry. For any of it. For...not talking for decades, for wandering as far as I did. You were always...always the wisest of us, and I should have listened better, I see that now. Oh, and for the ulterior motives - ugh, those got old fast."
He then shook a finger at her, a sly grin spreading across his face.
"But not for the flirting. You're somehow getting lovelier with time. Inside and out."
Whatever accounted for ice in the Neath had started to build up. His current ships weren't fitted to break the sheets of ice--meaning they were now docked for some time. He could already hear the complaining from the captains and zailors that he hired. Oh well. Maybw it would be good for them to stay docked for some time. Enjoy the company of someone else in Fallen London.
God knew they could do that as the ever annoying Feast of the Exceptional Rose goes under way. Tiberius had never had a particular care or interest in the festival. Especially after the state his own aunt left him in... and the House of Darrowbane...
He sighed and leaned back in his seat in the booth at the Singing Mandrake. A hand dragged down his face.
"Heads up slowpoke!" That's all the warning Barry is going to get as a trio of snowballs come at him at Mach-1.
What? He can't have a superpowered snowball fight with Bruce and Diana grew up on an island that never saw snow and Arthur.. well. Okay he might enjoy it too but he's not in town.
Death by snowball is not a way for anyone to go. Clark has every faith that the speedster can get out of the way. If he didn't he wouldn't have thrown them. He's hanging back, grinning at the indignation and to show he's a good sport, he doesn't even dodge the first snowball. It explodes over his face and shoulders, showering him in white.
"Oh come on, I know Central City gets snow," two more are thrown. A lot slower than the first two but still too fast for most humans to even see coming much less dodge.
"You had to have had snowball fights as a kid."
Clark Kent, alien, superpower and completely overgrown kid when it comes to a fresh snowfall.
Barry comes to a stop, almost two stepping in place. "Yeah, but, seriously? You had snowball fights as--" he zips to the side quickly, scooping snow up in his hand. He launches it at Clark again.
Right. Wasn't he from Kansas? That'd--that'd mean snowball fights.
He comes to a stop. "Do you think Bruce has them? The snowball fights."
They're not out for the hell of it. Evie's decided they need hot chocolate, but there were a few things missing in the kitchen in her apartment that she wanted to get. And yeah, Barry could have run to get it within seconds, but Evie enjoys the snow. She wants to see it before it gets walked over.
"Gods, this is pretty," Evie states as she looks up from the partially frozen over trees. "It would be so great if this looked like this all over Gotham for more than a few minutes." But it doesn't. It turns to sludge and gross too fast for Evie's liking.
"Okay," she says, pushing a strand of black hair out of her eyes. "Important questions, Barry: Do you like your hot chocolate spicy? And how do you feel about homemade whipped cream?"
Barry will be the first to admit that slowing down is hard. It's not because he thinks everyone else around him is stupid. No, it's just... he processes everything so fast. The world around him seems to crawl along as he just normally walks. That's what he gets for getting hit with lightning, right?
Then there's relating to people again as his brain goes and goes. Especially Bruce Wayne's kids. He didn't even know that Bruce Wayne had kids!
With Wonder Woman!
Well, now he knows, obviously. He's made it a bit of a point to hang out with the Wayne kids. He needs friends.
"What about, y'know, where your Mom is from? It snows there doesn't it?" Barry isn't sure if he means Paris or ... wherever Amazons come from. "Hot chocolate can be spicy?"
He's absolutely found a friend in Evie. It might have taken her a bit, but Barry can be endearing. She's starting to find she likes being around him. For starters, he's smart, and someone that she can talk to for hours about everything and nothing. Currently, apparently, it's Themyscira. Which Evie's good with.
"I don't know if it's ever snowed where moms from," Evie states with a small half-smile on her face. "The one time we found Themyscira, we stayed long enough for me to get to know my extended family and get some training. Just a few months. It was like the perfect summer day, every day. I'll have to ask her if it ever has snowed."
At his question, she nods. "It can be. I prefer it that way. Alfred made it once years ago. I think I was seven at the time. It's how I've had it since."
"And... where exactly is Themyscira? Like, you can point to it on a map?" Barry is suddenly beside her again, having wandered a few feet off. Don't mind the static feeling around him. It's habit to use the Speedforce. "Not that I haven't tried finding it yet. Just, you know. Curious. Did you know Atlantis is real?"
Of course she knows, Barry. He tries too hard.
"I mean--sure. I can try it. Alfred is a great cook."
Evie just smiles and shrugs. "My guess? Somewhere in the Bermuda triangle. At least, it was when we found it. There's rumors it doesn't hold still for long."
Which makes sense to Evie. Otherwise, many more people would have found it ages ago, and not just the random pilot that crash lands on the shores.
A nod at his question and then a small smile. "There is video of me following Alfred around the kitchen when I was younger. And then when I hit the teen years and really got into reading, I explained the science behind what he was cooking."
And boy, could she ever babble about that.
"The store's not far. There's bars of pre-made chocolate with the right sugar and spices in it that I want to grab. It's the closest to Alfreds."
"Isn't that kind of... not near Greece at all though? I mean, your mom, she's Greek. Right? Amazons are from there." Barry puts his hands in his pockets with his eyebrows raised. He rocks forward on the balls of his feet, then back. He can't stand still. Some part of him is always moving. "Wow. That's... impressive. I didn't know Alfred talked a whole lot."
Usually he's there to make one line remarks about Wayne. Which, hey, it's funny. Barry isn't going to complain.
"Okay. So, are we taking the slow way then? I can, I mean. If you want to."
"I think the theory there is it's easier to keep it hidden," Evie replies with a faint smile on her face. "If it's not where people suspect it might be."
It makes sense to her. Hide it where people wouldn't consider looking. Keep her extended family safe. Keep Themyscira safe. That's kind of a big thing for Evie; keeping the people she cares for safe.
She turns to look at him for a moment, considering the choice and then she nods. "I don't see why not."
She can understand, to a degree, how he's feeling. To the barest degree. Evie likes to keep busy and keep in motion, herself. She's not the best at sitting still. But she's also aware that Barry's abilities make things extra difficult for him.
So she gives him the address of the place, tells him there's an alley just to the side if he wants to keep his cover.
"...how are we doing this?" Is she getting picked up? What's the deal?
It didn't really, but, he'd go with it. He understood keeping the identities secret and pretending to be something he isn't. Hell, who would believe a kid became faster than light because he got struck by lightning? Not many. No one really believed Batman was real, but they all knew Superman was by the end of that day in Metropolis.
"I don't really do normal speed well - anymore?" Barry shakes his head but turns on his heel and motions for her to walk with him. He'll just bounce as he walks - or something. "Uh, I figured we'd walk? If that's okay. Unless you were going to call Alfred or something."
"Walking is fine," Evie states, but she's sort of watching her friend with concern. Walking doesn't look like it's all too much fun for him, but she'll let him decide when he's had enough.
"I was going to go with whatever you suggested," she states after a moment, tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket to keep them warm. "We should have brought Phoebe. She adores you and would have kept you moving more." Because nothing's better than watching a Tibetan Mastiff in the snow with a terrible case of the Zoomies.
It's more that walking is slow. Everything is slow to Barry, so, he does his best not to make a big deal out of it. He knows the world seems to have slowed down after his powers kicked in. A side effect, probably. An annoying one. Because it made social interactions like this difficult.
"I'd probably move too fast for her after a few minutes," there's a sad note in his voice then. "Not that she'd probably mind--but, ice? Not really a good idea with super speed."
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synthneon2021-02-11 07:57 pm
π₯ john constantine | constantine / hellblazer | ota.
π¦ bruce wayne | dceu | ota
pristine / stranded / angst with maybe a little h/c??
Oh, she knew about all the stuck-up people who would wag their fingers and tut at her about right and wrong. But when there was a mark like the one she'd had her eye on? She reminded herself that the world was not black and white, but rather, full of shades of grey. The man in the sizeable yet somewhat isolated mansion on the outskirts of the city that was average in size was no saint himself. The tabloids and the respectable newspapers alike both hinted at the possibility that there was something else lurking below the surface of the man's outward persona of benevolence and charity. Strangely enough, this particular man reminded her of another eccentric billionaire who, as far as she knew, had disappeared off the face of the planet. But the similarities didn't carry over very far. But like Bruce Wayne, Selina's mark knew a thing or two about self-defense.
The proof of that was printed quite clearly on Selina's side, near her ribcage. She knew the man she was targeting had a store of weapons, and that he was more than capable of using them, but she hadn't anticipated nearly walking right into him in a corridor and getting a gash from a sword's blade for her trouble.
Really, who even used swords anymore?
But luckily for Selina, wound or no wound, she was still fast on her feet, and even though she could feel the blood seeping out, she was still in control of her reflexes. She managed to get away, albeit empty-handed, but at least she was alive for the moment.
Her base of operations for this whole caper had been a cabin that she'd rented under a false name and a fake ID. It was there that she returned to, hoping that the falling snow would cover her tracks. And even with the unexpected injury, she'd been careful not to let any blood drip on the ground. Tracks and drops of blood would only lead people right to her, and she knew better than to think that the man she'd tried to rob would let this go unreported. She just hoped that no one would think to search the cabins for a possible suspect.
All she needed was a little time to patch herself up and then she could be on her way. What she hadn't accounted for was a stranger who'd apparently made himself at home in the cabin while she'd been away. As she made her approach, she saw a shadow at the window, and she frowned. Surely it was just a misunderstanding, and he'd let himself into the wrong one. But that didn't leave her with many options; she couldn't very well approach in her present condition, because of all the questions that would raise.
She knew that the cabins next door were already locked, having already cased the area, so she knew she didn't have many options here. Pulling her coat around herself, hoping that would temporarily prevent whoever was inside from noticing she was sporting a fresh injury, she drew in a breath and opened the door. ]
oh oh oh batcat feels im HERE FOR THIS
Gotham always came first.
He heard the door to the cabin and straightened his back. No doubt she'drecognize his silhouette. It's not as if she's a stranger to his height, build, multitude of scars. Though she might have surprised to see he was even out there to see her. Maybe. He supposed it depends on how upset she is.
Bruce turned as she entered the room. ]
Selina.
[ His voice was soft, but not quiet distant. Guarded--giving her the space she needed. She was always like a cat. She'd come by when she wanted, look for affection when she wanted, then left when she wanted. It was in her nature. ]
a million years late
For now, her plan was to just lick her wounds and regroup before deciding what her next steps were. Her first step was literally right in front of her, starting with that silhouette at the window. It was one she knew well, but the bigger question was what was he doing here? What could he possibly want? If it was to kick her when she was already down, well, that was a low blow and possibly out of character, but she was a little too tired to tease out that train of thought. ]
Bruce.
[ She tilted her head to one side, giving him her best appraising look that she'd perfected over the years. ]
What brings you to my humble abode? [ A temporary one, but details. ] I see you haven't learned about not breaking and entering.
[ And yes, she knew the irony of that statement, considering what she did for a living. She just couldn't help herself. ]
π‘οΈ nero | devil may cry | ota
π©Ί helen magnus | sanctuary | ota.
@oldhound | psl. wonderland, stranded, hurt/comfort
Being a doctor is a curse at times. She can judge the wound, it's length, how deep it goes, and what a danger it is merely by running her fingers along it. That and the blood that is starting to seep into her shirt and down her back. It's a wide gash, having gone at least down to the muscle. Helen sucks her breath in and pushes herself from the front door.
Stuck in a cabin that operates as a satellite for the Sanctuary Network. T he same old story. A rare abnormal was on the lose, and it was better to attempt to contain it to its territory than let it wander into the civilization beyond the woods as the snow storm hit. Then, as par usual, the snow storm escalated. The interesting thing about this abnormal? It was rather docile itself, but, always had another species that would protect it. she must have gotten too close -- at least it was only a few meters back to the cabin.
Helen stumbles into the living room and straightens herself. Bad move. She instantly regrets it, grabbing onto the arm of the couch to steady herself. There had been a hope to hide the injury from her cabin mate. Except it's bleeding a fair amount. Funny, really. She's the one that is supposed to fuss. ]
It's scared, [ she goes on as if it's not obvious she's wounded. ] And it's protector is highly aggressive. If anything, we'll need to wait until their natural sleep cycle kicks in... which, given the storm...
[ Helen's rather put out about that and not the injury. If she is to be entirely honest. ]
no subject
Now that he's finally looped back around to her, half-tucked up under her arm as they trudge through the deepening snow drifts, a glowing wisp to guide the way so they don't wind up freezing to death out there, he's abnormally quiet. He lets her talk, in part cause it's good that she can still manage it.
The other part is his anger will do little good in the present moment so best to shelve it for now. Anger is easier than worry, anger is like a flame burning up, worry is like a vice-grip on his heart and choking the air out of his throat. He has to let her go to get the door shut and the lights back on. Shrugging out of his coat, he tosses it over the back of a chair and stares balefully at the unlit fireplace. He'll sort it in a moment. ]
It's not the only thing around these parts feeling particularly aggressive. [ Gritted out through his teeth as he goes back to her. ] Lean on me, need to get you laying down so I can have a look.
no subject
Ultimately, however, she knows better.
They always say that doctors are the worst patients.
One hand raises to grab his arm, steadying herself as she moves to remove her long winter coat. Rather ridiculous considered its cut down the back and whatever heat retention it had is far gone out the window. She does as he asks, leaning towards him as she struggles but stubbornly refuses to simply let him do it all. ]
I could tell you exactly where it is, possibly how deep it is, and how wide... but I doubt that would help.
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While she grabs his arm to steady herself, he stays still enough to not jostle so much. The coat is ruined which is enough to prove the grim extent of the wound. If she's going to be so stubborn then he utters a soft incantation, eyes glowing in amber briefly before flame alights atop his open palm and with a flick of his wrist ignites the fire in the hearth. ]
Love, the only thing I need to know right now is if this is something I can fix here with the kit you've got and whatever else is in this ruddy house.
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[ She gives him a bit of a pointed look before nodding slightly. Helen gently leans to the side as the fire comes to life in his hand. Best just to give him room - just in case.
In the mean time, she shreds the coat. Then she goes about the delicate task of removing her shirt in order to better see the wound. ]
I thought you rather liked ruddy houses.
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[ His jaw tenses at the comment but his attention goes to the fire, watching it spark to life. Once that is finished, he gives his all back to her. ]
I like them better when I'm not having to contend with things like this whilst banging about inside them. Here, let me help.
[ Carefully shifting to help her get out of the destroyed clothing with a minimum of fuss. ]
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[ It says in so many words 'I've no idea.' Storms can last days and she'd find a way to soldier and muster on. She doubts John would let that stand. She could simply see him betting the dice and opening a portal to hop them somewhere. Though, she is saving that as an utter last resort. ]
Hm. I'll make sure to find one that is free of things that bang on about them.
[ A playful remark in an attempt to ease the situation. She moves with his direction, knowing that he's going to fuss in his own way. The wound is certainly one made of claw marks. A few inches deep into the skin. The shirt is soaked in blood and rather glued to her skin in that regard. Helen scrunches her face up in pain when he can't see it. ]
I imagine it looks rather terrible.
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[ John's mouth turns down into a frown. He doesn't like the uncertainty but he understands it. He doesn't like the idea of being stuck out there out of the range of aid with her hurt as she is. Right now, he doesn't have to chance the barmy idea of opening a portal, but he might have to consider it as a contingency. ]
Good luck in this town.
[ A chance at humor that he doesn't really feel. No, he's too tense for all that and too focused on seeing what he can do for her. Once the jacket is free, it is just the ruined shirt failing at covering anything up. His jaw tenses and he reaches up to gently touch her shoulder, away from the wounds. ]
It doesn't look like it tickles, love. I'll get the kit.
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There is absolutely no need to sugarcoat the situation with me, John.
[ Even if she suspects it has far more to do with how he himself is handling it than her.
Regardless of the reason, she nods to his statement. Once he is up and about? She starts to slowly try and remove her shirt. A low hiss escapes her at it. It feels like pulling off a bandaid in a way. Which means extensive blood loss and no doubt she'll start feeling the effects of that rather soon. ]
Bloody hell.
You choose on the roulette wheel of time! Early days? Elsewhen? Post-series?
Which, logically, he knew, was a complex biological process at play, making it all feel so remarkable. But he, alone among the Five, was the romantic; the believer - much as Druitt had once claimed to be the former. To his mind, at least, that had all been an act. So much had been pretense between them all, and so much not. He looked over at her, lifting the collar of an exquisitely tailored black coat as she walked beside him.
"A nickel for your thoughts?"
Post-series could be INTERESTING
"Have you noticed that the world is never as peaceful as it is when it snows?" She glanced at him, then nodded to the park around them. "Everything stills. It becomes quiet. It easily leaves one to their thoughts and memories."
Well then off we go. :P
"We love the idea of the tabula rasa, and combine that with the freshness of the air...I think it makes us reflective, by and large. Gives us all that moment, like right before a pen is put to paper, or a brush to canvas."
zooom!
A hum followed the smile. "You're certainly feeling metaphorical."
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A sign of how far he'd come that he'd even make that joke, really. He looked over at her.
"No, it's back to the old dream - use my gifts to try to improve the human lot. I kind of missed them, you know? The heady days of Niagara, and Wardenclyffe."
As for the last, well.
"I am always metaphorical, somewhere underneath. The part of me that's always the little kid from the Serbian version of the sticks."
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"The days where you had actually hoped? My, my, Nikola. You truly are feeling nostalgic." Still, she shakes her head. "It's a good thing. Your gifts and talents were always best used when it was working towards improving the state of your fellow man. Even if you are a different species."
She gave a knowing nod. "Deep down we're all still those children on some level. Perhaps we never really grew up in that regard."
The world was still full of the unknown and wonder for her. It didn't matter the events of the last few years. The secret societies, the ulterior motives. She still found the world to be breathtaking and full of things to learn.
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He smiled, fondly, eyes somewhere in the past.
"He wasn't wrong." That was the other thing, of them he had always been the believer, never falling into the trap of thinking that science and belief were two separate, warring factions. He and Gould had gotten along, really. He missed ol' Stephen.
"Fresh pages, fresh starts, fresh snow," he added, "so yes, back to basics. I spent too many years trying to bring back what was, when all my strengths were creating what should be."
He paused, turning towards her.
"And I never said that I was sorry. For any of it. For...not talking for decades, for wandering as far as I did. You were always...always the wisest of us, and I should have listened better, I see that now. Oh, and for the ulterior motives - ugh, those got old fast."
He then shook a finger at her, a sly grin spreading across his face.
"But not for the flirting. You're somehow getting lovelier with time. Inside and out."
π ethel michealson | fallen london | ota.
π tiberius darrowbane | various canons | ota.
@forknowledge | fallen london. building, walk, your own.
Whatever accounted for ice in the Neath had started to build up. His current ships weren't fitted to break the sheets of ice--meaning they were now docked for some time. He could already hear the complaining from the captains and zailors that he hired. Oh well. Maybw it would be good for them to stay docked for some time. Enjoy the company of someone else in Fallen London.
God knew they could do that as the ever annoying Feast of the Exceptional Rose goes under way. Tiberius had never had a particular care or interest in the festival. Especially after the state his own aunt left him in... and the House of Darrowbane...
He sighed and leaned back in his seat in the booth at the Singing Mandrake. A hand dragged down his face.
β‘ barry allen | dceu | ota
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What?
He can't have a superpowered snowball fight with Bruce and Diana grew up on an island that never saw snow and Arthur.. well. Okay he might enjoy it too but he's not in town.
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Easy.
Almost.
He barely dodges them, spinning around quickly to see them zip by his head. Holy. Shit. Does Clark know he can kill someone throwing those?!
"Seriously?!" Barry zips over two feet. A snowball is suddenly at Clark's head in a blink of an eye.
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Clark has every faith that the speedster can get out of the way. If he didn't he wouldn't have thrown them. He's hanging back, grinning at the indignation and to show he's a good sport, he doesn't even dodge the first snowball. It explodes over his face and shoulders, showering him in white.
"Oh come on, I know Central City gets snow," two more are thrown. A lot slower than the first two but still too fast for most humans to even see coming much less dodge.
"You had to have had snowball fights as a kid."
Clark Kent, alien, superpower and completely overgrown kid when it comes to a fresh snowfall.
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Right. Wasn't he from Kansas? That'd--that'd mean snowball fights.
He comes to a stop. "Do you think Bruce has them? The snowball fights."
*ahem* walking, pristine, fluff
"Gods, this is pretty," Evie states as she looks up from the partially frozen over trees. "It would be so great if this looked like this all over Gotham for more than a few minutes." But it doesn't. It turns to sludge and gross too fast for Evie's liking.
"Okay," she says, pushing a strand of black hair out of her eyes. "Important questions, Barry: Do you like your hot chocolate spicy? And how do you feel about homemade whipped cream?"
aww YISS
Then there's relating to people again as his brain goes and goes. Especially Bruce Wayne's kids. He didn't even know that Bruce Wayne had kids!
With Wonder Woman!
Well, now he knows, obviously. He's made it a bit of a point to hang out with the Wayne kids. He needs friends.
"What about, y'know, where your Mom is from? It snows there doesn't it?" Barry isn't sure if he means Paris or ... wherever Amazons come from. "Hot chocolate can be spicy?"
Re: aww YISS
"I don't know if it's ever snowed where moms from," Evie states with a small half-smile on her face. "The one time we found Themyscira, we stayed long enough for me to get to know my extended family and get some training. Just a few months. It was like the perfect summer day, every day. I'll have to ask her if it ever has snowed."
At his question, she nods. "It can be. I prefer it that way. Alfred made it once years ago. I think I was seven at the time. It's how I've had it since."
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Of course she knows, Barry. He tries too hard.
"I mean--sure. I can try it. Alfred is a great cook."
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Which makes sense to Evie. Otherwise, many more people would have found it ages ago, and not just the random pilot that crash lands on the shores.
A nod at his question and then a small smile. "There is video of me following Alfred around the kitchen when I was younger. And then when I hit the teen years and really got into reading, I explained the science behind what he was cooking."
And boy, could she ever babble about that.
"The store's not far. There's bars of pre-made chocolate with the right sugar and spices in it that I want to grab. It's the closest to Alfreds."
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Usually he's there to make one line remarks about Wayne. Which, hey, it's funny. Barry isn't going to complain.
"Okay. So, are we taking the slow way then? I can, I mean. If you want to."
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It makes sense to her. Hide it where people wouldn't consider looking. Keep her extended family safe. Keep Themyscira safe. That's kind of a big thing for Evie; keeping the people she cares for safe.
She turns to look at him for a moment, considering the choice and then she nods. "I don't see why not."
She can understand, to a degree, how he's feeling. To the barest degree. Evie likes to keep busy and keep in motion, herself. She's not the best at sitting still. But she's also aware that Barry's abilities make things extra difficult for him.
So she gives him the address of the place, tells him there's an alley just to the side if he wants to keep his cover.
"...how are we doing this?" Is she getting picked up? What's the deal?
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It didn't really, but, he'd go with it. He understood keeping the identities secret and pretending to be something he isn't. Hell, who would believe a kid became faster than light because he got struck by lightning? Not many. No one really believed Batman was real, but they all knew Superman was by the end of that day in Metropolis.
"I don't really do normal speed well - anymore?" Barry shakes his head but turns on his heel and motions for her to walk with him. He'll just bounce as he walks - or something. "Uh, I figured we'd walk? If that's okay. Unless you were going to call Alfred or something."
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"I was going to go with whatever you suggested," she states after a moment, tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket to keep them warm. "We should have brought Phoebe. She adores you and would have kept you moving more." Because nothing's better than watching a Tibetan Mastiff in the snow with a terrible case of the Zoomies.
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"I'd probably move too fast for her after a few minutes," there's a sad note in his voice then. "Not that she'd probably mind--but, ice? Not really a good idea with super speed."