Thane "Aegisbound" Callister

[shieldandshoulders]

HERO INFORMATION

name : Thane Callister hero alias : Aegisbound age : 32 gender : Male sexual orientation : Bisexual role in fortitude hall : Mentor affiliation : The Protectors (New Roster), Fortitude Academy Faculty faceclaim : Chris Hemsworth

positive attribute : Steadfast / Disciplined / Charismatic negative attribute : Self-sacrificing / Overprotective / Haunted by guilt

POWER LISTING

PRIMARY POWER — Living Aegis (Mastered)

Thane’s signature ability allows him to manifest a solidified kinetic barrier generated from his own bio-energetic field. This field condenses into luminous, armor-like plating or large-scale shields composed of hard-light kinetic energy.

Detailed Capabilities:

Reactive Armor: The Aegis instinctively forms along the point of impact, hardening instantly to block bullets, blasts, collisions, and high-impact strikes.

Full-Body Manifestation: When fully deployed, Thane becomes encased in a seamless suit of shimmering kinetic armor, dramatically increasing durability and shock absorption.

Projected Barriers: He can shape the Aegis into walls, domes, or floating shields that anchor to surfaces or hover freely.

Dynamic Resilience: The barrier adapts to the threat:

dispersing heat

nullifying concussive waves

thickening under extreme force

thinning to maintain mobility

Multi-Target Defense: Thane can extend the Aegis to shield others, forming branching plates or layered barriers around teammates or civilians.

Kinetic Storage: The Living Aegis does not just absorb force—it temporarily stores it (up to a limit), creating a “charge” he can redistribute using his secondary power.

Limitations & Strain:

Prolonged use drains his physical stamina.

Large-scale barriers require deep focus and significantly reduce his mobility.

If the Aegis is overstressed, the energy flickers, cracks, or shatters into harmless light, leaving him temporarily defenseless.

SECONDARY POWER — Force Redirection (Substantial Mastery)

Thane can unleash the kinetic energy absorbed by his Aegis in controlled bursts, turning defense into offense with precision.

Detailed Capabilities:

Concussive Bursts: Thane releases stored energy in forward blasts capable of knocking back enemies or shattering obstacles.

Shockwave Rings: By releasing energy in all directions, he can create anti-gravity shockwaves that clear debris, disperse crowds, or destabilize opponents.

Amplified Strikes: Physical punches or kicks become devastating when infused with redirected kinetic force, allowing him to stagger even super-strong adversaries.

Directional Channeling: With practice, he can shape the redirection into beams or pulses aimed with pinpoint accuracy.

Momentum Control: Thane can subtly alter his own kinetic energy—granting bursts of speed, enhanced jumps, or controlled landings during rescue operations.

Limitations & Risks:

Overcharging leads to disorientation, tremors in his hands, or temporary numbness.

If redirected too quickly after absorption, the energy may “backfire,” causing internal shock or muscle strain.

Excess discharge can destabilize the Living Aegis, forcing a cooldown period before regeneration.

TERTIARY POWER — Premonitory Reflex (Passive / Uncontrolled)

A subtle psi-kinetic perception tied to Thane’s Aegis field, this ability gives him instinctive flashes of incoming danger—like a sixth sense woven into his energy signature.

Detailed Capabilities:

Micro-Premonitions: Thane receives split-second warnings before harm arrives—muscle twitches, chills, pressure shifts, or sudden clarity.

Instinctive Movement: Even without conscious thought, his body often reacts—raising an arm, shifting weight, or turning—just enough to avoid a fatal blow.

Aegis Auto-Trigger: Sometimes the Living Aegis activates a fraction of a second before Thane consciously commands it, especially when the threat is severe.

Environmental “Vibes”: Not true clairvoyance, but Thane occasionally senses disturbances in kinetic or emotional energy nearby—such as structural weakness, incoming attacks, or heightened aggression.

Limitations & Instability:

Completely unpredictable—sometimes too vague, sometimes overwhelming.

Can trigger false alarms under emotional stress.

Offers detection without context (he senses danger, but not what kind or from where).

During high-intensity battles, the influx of premonitory jolts can distract or overload him.

BACKSTORY

Thane Callister was born where the sea met the steel of Elysium City — in a neighborhood that still whispered the stories of the Protectors like prayers. His father, Darrin Callister, had been one of the first men to pull survivors from the rubble of Fortitude Hall during the great collapse of 1994. He never spoke of the event with pride. Only reverence. And loss.

Growing up, Thane learned that heroism wasn’t bright or cinematic — it was heavy. It was the sound of his father sitting on the edge of his bed long after midnight, staring at hands that remembered the weight of broken concrete and trembling shoulders of survivors. It was the faded photographs of a city skyline that no longer existed. It was the silence that followed every story.

From a young age, Thane felt that weight settle quietly on his own shoulders.

His powers began as a whisper — a faint shimmer in the air when he flinched, the soft crackle of energy when fear spiked. His mother called it a “gift.” His father called it a “responsibility.” Thane called it “something he didn’t deserve.”

For years, the barrier flickers were little more than instinctive flashes of self-defense. Enough to stop a falling board, enough to keep a stray ball from hitting him. Nothing that felt heroic.

Until the day the earth itself tried to swallow Elysium City whole.

He was twenty-two when it happened — a tremor beneath the Grandstand, the mountain where Fortitude Hall had once stood. No one realized that the Mind Melder’s final psychic scream had left unstable fractures spiderwebbed through the bedrock. When the ground gave way, it wasn’t a collapse — it was a plunge into history’s wounds.

Thane didn’t think. There was only the roar of stone, the screams of trapped civilians, and the split-second instinct to reach out — not with his hands, but with his heart.

The Living Aegis erupted from him in a shock of blue fire.

A shield, born from fear. Then courage. Then purpose.

He held the weight of a collapsing world on his shoulders, barrier after barrier forming until his entire body was cocooned in shimmering kinetic armor. People huddled behind him, thinking he was some seasoned hero who had arrived in their hour of need. He didn’t have the breath to tell them he wasn’t.

He stood there until his legs gave out. Until the dust cleared. Until the Protectors found him half-conscious but still holding the Aegis up like a pillar of light.

He expected reprimand. Maybe fear. Instead, they offered him a hand — and a place among them.

Training did not sculpt Thane into a warrior. It revealed him as a guardian.

He excelled not in combat, but in moments where others faltered — where structures groaned, where explosions rippled through corridors, where shadows fell and panic clawed at the edges of reason. Thane stood firm, always between the danger and the people who could not shield themselves.

When the new Fortitude Hall reopened in 2014 — no longer a citadel but an academy — Thane was among the youngest heroes to step forward. Not for glory. Not for legacy.

But because somewhere in Elysium City, a child might one day stand before falling debris, or rising flames, or the echo of an ancient evil — and flicker with the first spark of power.

He wanted to be the one who taught them what to do next.

Years later, as a mentor, Thane carries the Callister legacy not like a burden, but like a vow carved into his bones: to shield, to stand, to rise — always.

And when the storm comes, as it always does in Elysium City, the first thing people see is the blue glow of the Aegis lighting the dark… and they know they’re not alone.

CURRENT ROLE AT FORTITUDE HALL

Thane teaches:

Defensive Power Application

Emergency Field Response

Structural Collapse Rescue

Advanced Kinetic Control

He also leads high-risk extraction missions and is one of the academy's designated Shield Anchors — heroes who maintain defensive barriers around the Hall during crises.

PERSONALITY SHEET

MBTI TYPE: ISFJ-A — “The Protector”

(also sometimes typed as INFJ depending on interpretation)

Key Traits:

Quiet strength, deeply grounded

Protective instinct to shield others first, himself last

Loyal to a fault

Emotionally intuitive, but rarely expresses his own needs

Patient listener, thoughtful speaker

Internally driven by an ethical core he seldom articulates

Carries responsibility like oxygen — calm when others panic

How this manifests for Thane: Thane’s ISFJ nature makes him appear steady, reliable, and almost unshakably calm. He doesn’t lead through charisma or authority but through presence — a man who becomes the emotional anchor in a crisis. He has a private emotional life beneath the armor, one he rarely allows others to see. He prefers to serve rather than be celebrated. His empathy is perceptive, but quiet.

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Good (with self-sacrificial tendencies)

Thane believes in:

protecting life above all,

giving people second chances,

doing what is right even when it’s difficult,

honoring the sacrifices of those who came before him.

But his “lawful good” alignment comes with a flaw: He often holds himself to impossible standards. When he fails — or even feels he could have done better — he shoulders disproportionate guilt.

He is a hero who would die for strangers without hesitation… but struggles to let others fight for him.

CORE PERSONALITY TRAITS

Dominant Traits

Protective: His first instinct is always to shield. Even in conversation, he angles his body subconsciously toward whoever he’s safeguarding.

Steadfast: Rarely rattled. Rarely panicked. When others break, he braces.

Compassionate: He remembers names, faces, and the little details about people that make them feel seen.

Duty-driven: He believes heroism is not power — it’s responsibility.

Secondary Traits

Humble: Uncomfortable with praise. Turns attention away from himself.

Soft-spoken: Chooses his words carefully; rarely raises his voice.

Observant: Notices subtle shifts in body language, structural tension, and emotional undertones.

Emotionally contained: Keeps inner turmoil private, sometimes to his detriment.

Flawed Traits

Self-sacrificing: Takes the burdens others should share.

Over-responsible: Believes every failure is his fault, even when it isn’t.

Avoidant of vulnerability: Struggles to admit fear, exhaustion, or hurt.

Risk-blind when protecting others: He will step into danger too quickly if a life is at stake.

STRENGTHS

Exceptional crisis leadership

Deep emotional intuition; strong with traumatized students

Physically and psychologically resilient

Trusted almost universally

Unwavering moral compass

Anchoring presence — people calm down around him

Slow to anger, measured in conflict

WEAKNESSES

Bottles emotions until they erupt in quiet breakdowns

Difficulty asking for help

Takes on more than any one person should

Haunted by the legacy of Fortitude Hall’s tragedies

Believes he must “earn” his place constantly

Suffers in silence rather than burden others

FEARS

1. Failing to protect someone

His deepest fear, rooted in his father’s post-1994 trauma. A single civilian death can haunt him for years.

2. Becoming a symbol and losing his humanity

He fears being placed on a pedestal like Captain Fortitude — and losing himself to expectation, legacy, or martyrdom.

3. Losing control of the Aegis

His power is tied to emotion. He fears that if he falters, the shield could fail — or become destructive.

4. Letting people close

Intimacy scares him more than any villain. Being needed is easy. Being known is terrifying.

5. Not being enough

A quiet, lifelong fear. The pressure of lineage, of heroism, of responsibility — he worries he cannot live up to the standard he sets for himself.

HABITS & BEHAVIORS

Daily Habits

Runs or trains at sunrise as a grounding ritual

Checks the structural integrity of buildings instinctively

Walks the Academy halls at night to ensure students feel safe

Performs rescue drills alone to refine efficiency

Social Habits

Keeps to the edges of rooms, observing

Prefers one-on-one conversations to groups

Tends to stand between people and doorways instinctively

Offers quiet reassurance rather than big speeches

Emotional Habits

Internalizes stress

Uses controlled breathing to maintain composure

Stays calm for others even when he’s breaking inside

Shows affection through actions, not words

Protective Habits

Always places himself physically between danger and others

Creates small Aegis flickers subconsciously when startled

Reacts instinctively to cries, alarms, or structural shifts

Checks on students long after missions “officially end”

INTERPERSONAL STYLE

Loyal to a fault — once he cares, he commits deeply

Gentle with the vulnerable; firm with the reckless

Acts like a mentor even outside his professional role

Attractive in a quietly intense, knight-like way

Surprisingly romantic but painfull

[shieldandshoulders]

The sun hovered low, bruising the sky with shades of violet and gold as Thane Callister walked across Fortitude Plaza, his boots thudding softly on stone. The plaza was humming with life — students clustered around benches, laughing and gesturing with the careless energy of youth; mentors and heroes strolled between lecture halls; Patrol Units glided past on foot, scanning the grounds with polite efficiency. It was a rhythm familiar and strangely comforting, like a heartbeat beneath the city itself.

Thane’s titanium-blue armor absorbed the last of the day’s light, the subtle glow along its etched lines flickering with each step. He didn’t hurry; he never did. It wasn’t in his nature. Instead he moved with deliberate, calm certainty, eyes scanning the crowd as if seeing both the present moment and the threads that bound it to futures yet unwritten.

He paused near the fountain at the plaza’s heart, the water catching the dying light in liquid amber. Students slowed, glimpsed his silhouette, recognized the quiet aura of a Protector rather than a parade of power. No murmurs. No gasps. Just a scattering of respectful nods, the kind that acknowledged not an idol but a guardian. Thane offered a slight tilt of his head in return — not a greeting, not a dismissal, just presence. A promise. “You are safe as long as I stand.”

In the distance, the Acropolis loomed — the largest building on the grounds, once the headquarters of the Protectors, now the nerve center of Fortitude Academy. Its windows gleamed like watchful eyes, as if the mountain itself was observing, calculating, guarding. Thane’s gaze lingered for a long moment before he turned, walking toward it. A group of first-years wrestled with a bulky datapad, frustration etched on their faces. Without thinking, Thane reached out — a quiet ripple of Living Aegis humming beneath the surface — and steadied their grip with a simple gesture.

“Here,” he said, steady and calm, “aim it this way.” They blinked, startled, then smiled with the tentative awe of those who meet a legend but find a teacher instead.

Thane didn’t stop to watch them succeed. He never did. His mission was always the next step — the unseen rescue, the whispered reassurance, the shield raised before panic even had a chance to form. He stepped forward, boots brushing the plaza’s flagstones, wind tugging at his hair. Around him the grounds of Fortitude Hall breathed — a tapestry of hope, challenge, and promise. And he walked with the steady weight of someone who would shoulder it all, again and again, if needed.

[swordcalledevander]

The thrill of the fight, the rush of the power of it all, it filled every fiber of his being, a normal human would have seared under the heavy pressure of his light, but Evander had long since stopped being a normal human, every cell of his body steeped in the tarnished grace of his former master. Fundamentally no longer just a human much closer to the demons and otherworldly beings who would prey upon human. He had a particular hatred of those who would use children. Or tried to use the other Children of Sorrow.

Perhaps he had been more wrapped up in the fight than he had thought, so single minded and focused on that demon. One who's magic was all too familiar to him. Too close to the cultists.

As Thane touched down he was snapped out of that hunting fervor, his body almost jolted back from the brink of that divine destruction he had doled out to the other.

He leaned into Thane, the soft touch to his cheek. "I am fine. Sorry I lost it when I found him. I just- things like that. I hate them." he wanted to scoff at the idea of beheading the thing and calling it a 'someone' but morals differed between cultures. Things that preyed on children were not worthy of being called a someone if you asked Evan.

Evan slid his arms around Thane's shoulders and leaned against him. familiar. Solid. It wasn't many people Evan could say made him feel safe. Thane could claim that title though. "Sorry you had to see me like that. Though I could have been much worse. I'll try to hold myself back next time. Now. W were enjoying a walk yes?"

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane felt Evan’s body come down from that terrible, radiant high—the kind of power that didn’t just burn, but judged. He’d seen heroes lose themselves in battle before, swallowed by adrenaline or fear. But Evan’s edge was different. Older. Sharper. Forged in a place Thane had only ever heard about in whispered fragments.

The moment Evan leaned into him, Thane tightened his arm around Evan’s waist—not possessive, not corrective, simply steadying. A grounding force meeting a being still crackling with the aftershock of divine violence.

“I know why you hate them,” Thane murmured, voice low, the kind reserved for moments when the world around them quieted. “And you don’t owe me an apology for protecting children. Not ever.”

Evan’s arms slid around his shoulders, pulling him close, and Thane exhaled—a small release of tension he hadn’t realized he carried. Evan’s weight against him wasn’t weakness; it was trust. Hard-earned, rarely given, and never taken lightly.

When Evan whispered, Sorry you had to see me like that, Thane pressed his forehead briefly to Evan’s temple, the faint glow of his Aegis dimming to match the gentleness of the gesture.

“That was you fighting for the innocent,” he said softly. “Not losing control. Not becoming something to fear.”

He pulled back just enough to look Evan in the eyes, thumb brushing a lingering streak of ichor from Evan’s jaw.

“And for the record,” he added with a small, wry tilt to his mouth, “I’ve seen ‘much worse.’ Not from you—but from people who didn’t have your reasons.”

The park lights glowed around them, softened by the settling dusk. The world felt suspended for a beat—just the two of them, the faint smell of scorched air, and that familiar, grounding warmth between them.

When Evan mentioned their interrupted walk, Thane let out a breath that sounded almost like a quiet laugh.

“Yes,” he said, brushing his hand down Evan’s arm before lacing their fingers together. “We were enjoying a walk.”

He glanced toward the path, toward the peaceful glow of Blessed Park where children were still playing, blissfully unaware of the danger that had nearly touched them.

“We can pick up where we left off,” he added, giving Evan’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “And if something else tries to interrupt our day…”

The Aegis shimmered faintly around his shoulders—more instinct than intention.

“…we’ll handle it together.”

He nudged Evan gently, voice lowering just for him.

“Come on. Let’s finish our day.”

[swordcalledevander]

Location: Elysium City- Near Blessed Park

"I told you I want going to find you. And I was going to kill you." Evan sighed as he stepped closer to the demon who was on the ground bleeding, huge gaping wounds in it's immortal body though where the angelic looking blades sliced him there was no healing for an infernal beast like him. "You left your stink on all those kids. You thought you could siphon off their youth for your masters." Evan ground his teeth a bit thinking that some of those masters were his own parents. "Unfortunately for you some of their pediatricians are in the fold and call The Holy Blades. And I happen to hate you." With that Evan held up a hand, a blade of searing light manifested in the air, sizzling as it was created from the brightest of hell flames. While his powers came from a fallen, it was a fallen angel and the powers matched that. Bright. Searing. Terrifying. The blade flung forward severing the screaming demon's head from his shoulders, a spray of dark ichor over Evan, before the body withered and dissipated. His power released and his soul sent back to the pits of hell. Sealed up tight.

"And that is how you kill a demon. Sorry it took away from our day out."

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane had seen battle before—too much of it, in too many forms—but nothing prepared him for the way Evan’s light cut through the twilight haze of Blessed Park.

Not the radiance of it. Not the fury. Not the grief he recognized, sharp and familiar.

He arrived just in time to see the demon’s head severed cleanly from its shoulders, the blade of searing light dissolving into nothing as the infernal body withered and collapsed into smoke. The scent of ozone, scorched stone, and spilled hell-ichor hung thick in the air.

Thane’s boots touched down softly on the pavement, Aegis still glowing faintly around his forearms from the flight.

His first instinct was to shield—that old reflex, the automatic urge to protect Evan from anything that moved. But the threat was already dead, and Evan stood over it like judgment incarnate, chest rising and falling, jaw tense, dark ichor streaking across cheek and collar.

Thane exhaled slowly. Steady. Present.

“Evan…” His voice was low, more grounding than scolding, the kind of tone he used when pulling young heroes back from the brink. He stepped closer, Aegis flickering once before settling.

“You handled it.”

Not praise. Not disapproval. Just truth.

Still, his eyes swept the area—checking for lingering threats, checking Evan for injuries, checking himself for the impulse to drag the man into his arms and anchor him.

The demon’s last screams still echoed faintly through the trees.

Thane’s gaze softened, the hard line of his jaw easing as he took in Evan’s expression—the apology beneath the steel.

“Our day out isn’t ruined,” he murmured as he stepped beside him, voice quiet enough to be meant only for Evan. “You protected children. That takes priority over everything.”

A small pause.

Then, gently—almost carefully—he reached out, brushing a thumb across Evan’s cheek, wiping away a streak of ichor the way someone else might brush away ash.

“And next time,” he added with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “give me a chance to get here before you decapitate someone.”

He let the smirk fade, sincerity returning.

“You okay?”

[fortuidousfortitude]

Abraham sees the flashes of the shielding manifesting and worries he pushed too far. He appreciates the sentiment. They're not bad memories, just good ones that are mourned now. But if it's causing Thane to manifest his Aegis like this, then maybe it was too much.

He smiles though, happy to see the small metaphorical steps forward, and the large physical steps toward the door. He follows Thane, clapping him on the back, and decides some levity is in order.

"Nowhere I'd rather be, my friend. And besides," he sniffs at Thane then makes a face at the pretend stench, "I think you need to wash this armor again."

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane catches the shift in Abraham’s posture — the brief flicker of concern — and instinctively tries to clamp down on the glow tracing across his shoulders. The Aegis gutters, dims… then stubbornly flares once more before settling into a faint pulse beneath his skin.

Not dangerous. Not defensive. Just honest.

He exhales, steady, accepting that Abraham saw more than he meant to show.

But Abraham’s easy clap on his back and the sudden pivot to humor pulls a quiet sound from Thane — something caught between a laugh and a sigh of relief.

He follows the headmaster toward the door, tension unwinding by degrees with each step.

Abraham’s exaggerated sniff and disgusted face finally coaxes an actual laugh from him — low, warm, startled.

“It’s not that bad,” Thane protests, though even he glances down at himself like he’s not entirely convinced. A faint shimmer of Aegis flickers at his chest as if agreeing with Abraham. “I’ve been in this suit all day. I’m pretty sure the armor is the only thing keeping me from traumatizing the cadets with how I actually smell.”

He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture dragging another soft crackle of energy down his arm — this one gentler, almost playful.

“Fine,” he concedes with a smirk. “I’ll shower. And maybe even attempt to look like a functional human being for once.”

He glances over at Abraham, sincerity threading beneath the humor.

“And… thanks. For sticking with me.”

A beat, then a wry tilt of his head.

“Smell and all.”

The glow along his shoulders softens to something warm — the kind of light that doesn’t come from power, but from someone finally letting himself be led somewhere other than duty.

“Give me ten minutes. Then you can show me how to celebrate without accidentally shielding half the Academy.”

[fortuidousfortitude]

Abraham nods quietly, sad for the man when he opens up. He mentally reprimands himself but not harshly he couldn't have known but still.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. It was a shit suggestion anyway. I just want you to not get caught up in 'what if' all the time. That's when mistakes get made."

When Thane looks down to the celebration, Abraham sees a soft longing, not needy but there's still a desire. He hopes that means some of his words got through.

"Maybe the ledge is too steep. How about we take the stairs instead?"

He makes his tone light, but his expression is comforting. Thane doesn't need to change his mindset immediately. He can take it gradually.

"You can get changed in your office and then we can go find you some friends to hang with?"

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane goes still for a moment — too still — and that’s when the first flicker slips.

A soft, pale-blue shimmer crawls across his knuckles like static before he can suppress it. The energy fades, then resurges in a faint halo at his shoulders, betraying everything he’s trying not to reveal.

He draws in a breath, steady but weighted.

“They’re not bad memories,” he says, quiet but firm. Another ripple runs down his arm, gentler this time, like a sigh made visible. “Just… the one thing I’d change if I had the chance.”

He swallows, eyes tracking the celebration below — the lights, the warmth, the normalcy he doesn’t quite know how to walk into.

“But I can’t change it.” His voice doesn’t crack, but the Aegis pulses once at his chest, bright with feeling he doesn’t voice. “So I live with it. What I did right… and what I didn’t.”

He looks at his hand as it flickers again, embarrassed, trying to force the glow back down.

“It—” He exhales. “It reacts to… moments like this. When I feel exposed. Or out of my depth.”

Another small flare skims his forearm before dimming.

“Being off-duty does that to me more than a villain ever has,” he admits, a wry edge to the truth. “I know how to brace for impact, for danger, for anything that needs protecting.”

His shoulders rise and fall, a quiet resignation.

“But stepping into something normal? Something good?” A faint pulse of light spreads across his collarbone like a blush made of energy. “That’s when it gets messy.”

He lets out a breath, gentler now.

“What happened before… my relationship… I can’t undo it. I made choices, and they cost me something I loved.” He doesn’t wince, but the Aegis trembles like the echo of one. “It’s not a wound anymore. Just a truth I get to carry.”

When he finally meets Abraham’s eyes, the glow around him steadies — still there, but calmer, like it’s listening too.

“So no — you didn’t bring up anything bad.” A small shake of his head. “Just the part of my life I wish I could rewrite. But I can’t. So I’m trying to learn from it instead of letting it… define me.”

He shifts toward the stairwell, energy dimming to a soft flicker.

“Your offer helps. More than you probably think.”

A beat, then a quiet, almost shy smirk.

“Let me change before I light up the whole damn hallway. Then… we’ll take the stairs together.”

[diademdreams]

cristian was in a little bit of thought when looking out at the cityscape and the festivities below them. "...What if it had a pole," he thought out loud, thought he didn't provide much context to his thoughts until a moment later, "the observatory I mean, what if it had a fire fighter pole to slide down?"

he didn't know if that could or should be implemented and he was no architect, it was a thought that crossed his mind. he dashed the though and cleared his throat, going back to thinking about his future classes.

"I don't know exactly how helpful I'll be in an enclosed space kind of situation...but I'm not really one to not try. I can cut the power to a building. That's helpful, right?" blue eyes landed on the man with a smile, he didn't consider lightning and storms to be especially helpful himself, but he was trying at least.

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane blinked once — slow, deliberate — as Cristian’s first words hung in the air with no context whatsoever.

“…a pole.”

He didn’t interrupt. He just waited.

And when the clarification finally came, a quiet breath escaped him, almost a laugh but not quite.

“A firefighter pole,” Thane repeated, eyes shifting toward the stairwell door as if genuinely evaluating the idea. “From the top of Fortitude Hall.”

Another pause.

“Practical? No.” A beat. “Entertaining to watch the students try? …Absolutely.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward — not a full smile, but the closest he tended to get on duty.

As Cristian moved on, Thane listened without judgment. The kid wore honesty like weather — loud, unpredictable, and refreshingly unfiltered. It wasn’t a bad thing.

“Cutting power can be very helpful,” Thane said plainly. “Especially in structural collapse scenarios.”

He shifted so he was facing Cristian more directly.

“Elevators fail. Sparks can trigger secondary explosions. Downed lines start fires. Darkness forces people to stay still instead of running into danger. Lightning and electrical control? That’s not a drawback.”

He tapped a gloved finger once against the railing.

“The trick isn’t whether your power fits the scenario.” His voice dropped, steady and certain. “It’s whether you stay steady enough to use it with intention.”

Thane studied him for a second — not weighing his worth, but measuring the earnest effort beneath the bravado.

“You said you’re not one to avoid trying,” he continued. “Good. That’s what I care about. Not perfection. Not neatness. Just commitment.”

Then, with the faintest hint of dry humor:

“And if all else fails in training… we’ll revisit the idea of the pole.”

[fortuidousfortitude]

"You think I'm not ready if something goes wrong?"

It's mainly said to tease but it is also a reminder to adjust the mindset of "being ready." That there's a difference from being ready and being stuck in preparedness.

"Well, the easiest thing to do would be to find some coworkers you don't hate," he says with a smirk. "One or two, especially ones that know what they enjoy and would happily take you along with them. Then you don't have to worry about what to do. They do that for you. And it can help ease the worry that something might be wrong because you're with them and you know they're safe."

He looks back to Thane then raises a hand to cup the back of his neck. Grounding, centering the man in the moment.

"And if I may be blunt, I'd also suggest perhaps a one-night stand. If you're into that sort of activity. Stuff like that really forces you to be in the moment rather than on guard."

That advice is another Abraham learned the hard way. Work/life balance only works if there's a life to balance the work.

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane snorts softly at Abraham’s teasing — a real sound, the kind he only ever lets slip when someone’s gotten past his armor.

“Didn’t say you weren’t ready,” he murmurs back, “just… someone has to be.”

But Abraham’s point lands — not as a reprimand, but as a truth Thane’s been circling for years without ever stopping long enough to face it.

He listens to the advice about coworkers, about letting others set the pace, about letting himself belong in a moment instead of just safeguarding it. It’s good advice. Solid. Simple.

But the last suggestion — the one-night stand — makes Thane’s chest tighten, not with embarrassment, but with something older. Something heavier.

Abraham’s hand cups the back of his neck, grounding him, and Thane swallows as if the gesture presses just the right (wrong) pressure point.

“I used to have someone for that,” he says quietly. Not evasive — just something he hasn’t said aloud in a long time.

He gazes down at his own hands, fingers curling slightly as if remembering how they used to hold someone else’s.

“We were together for a few years. Good years, honestly.” A breath. “But I kept choosing this. The mission. The training. The dream I keep chasing.”

He doesn’t clarify the dream — he doesn’t need to. It sits unspoken between them, heavy and glowing like an ember he refuses to put down. The legacy. The shield. The role.

“Every time I had a choice between slowing down or pushing harder… I pushed.”

His jaw tightens.

“He told me he felt like he was dating a heroic ideal, not a man. That he was always second to a city I couldn’t save on my own.”

A rueful half-smile flickers and fades.

“And he wasn’t wrong. I didn’t make space. Not for him, not for us. I thought once I hit some imaginary point — once I became… enough — then I could finally breathe. Then I could give him what he deserved.”

He shakes his head.

“But that point never came. So he left before I could waste any more of his time.”

Thane finally looks at Abraham again, and there’s no defensiveness there — just raw honesty and a little self-directed regret.

“So, yeah. One-night stand?” He exhales, slow. “Maybe. But I don’t think my problem is not having someone in my bed, Abraham.”

A faint, wry twist to his mouth.

“It’s not knowing how to stop living like everything depends on me.”

He rests his hands on the railing, fingers brushing the cool metal.

“Maybe that’s why I ended up on rooftops instead of in parties. Or in relationships.”

A beat.

“But… if this is going to work — being part of the team, being part of something bigger without being crushed by it — I know I need to learn how to step off the ledge sometimes.”

He glances toward the celebration below.

[fortuidousfortitude]

Abraham listens, not just with his ears. He sees the expressions and the body language. He'd seen it when they chose Thane and he sees now the work that needs to be done to help the man be the best he can be.

"Don't let your expectations for yourself color what you think others expect from you."

He smiles and squeezes Thane's shoulder before pulling his hand back.

"And I think those are loft aspirations. Just remember to keep your feet on the ground occasionally. Cornerstones tend to do that."

He winks and looks back out to the glittering city of Elysium. Their home.

"Now, what's the first thing you're going to do down there once you change?"

He can tell Thane needs a little more time before he can fully relax from the day, but he needs to be sure the man actually does it. He and Janus need to know their co-Protectors take care of themselves.

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane follows Abraham’s gaze down toward the city — the glowing streets, the distant music, the drifting laughter rising up from the celebration below the Hall. It's all still going. Still alive. Still… safe.

And somehow that makes him tense rather than relieved.

His fingers drum once against his thigh — the unconscious habit of someone who’s spent years waiting for a call, a cry, a signal that something’s wrong. Even now, his danger-sense hums faintly in the background, not warning him of anything, just… there. A constant readiness.

When Abraham asks the question, Thane huffs softly — not quite a laugh, more like disbelief at the idea.

“Honestly?” He scratches the back of his neck. “I hadn’t thought about doing anything.”

He shifts, arms crossing loosely — another shield, but a gentler one.

“I’m used to staying on standby after big events. Making rounds. Watching the perimeter. Listening for… anything.” His eyes track the glowing crowd below. “Relaxing doesn’t really fit into the instinct list.”

There’s no bitterness in the words, just honesty.

He glances over at Abraham, sheepish but not shying away.

“Everyone down there earned something to celebrate. I—I guess I didn’t think that included me. Felt like I should be ready in case something goes wrong.”

The city lights flare brighter as fireworks burst somewhere in the distance, casting Thane’s face in shifting blues and golds. He watches them, almost puzzled by their simplicity.

“If I went down there…” He trails off, considering it for the first time. “…I don’t even know what I’d do. Grab a drink? Talk to the cadets?”

A beat.

“Try not to hover over everyone like a paranoid mother hen?”

He shakes his head, smiling a little at himself.

“I’ve spent so long preparing for danger that I never really planned for what happens when… nothing’s wrong.”

His voice gentles, quieter, almost hopeful:

“Maybe you can tell me what people do at celebrations like this. Because if I’m expected to actually take part…”

He tilts his head toward Abraham, a faint but genuine smile tugging at his mouth.

“…I might need a little guidance.”

[killertwhips]

Thane's laughter was infectious and a much needed boon to Perry who was riddled with anxiety. the mind melder had left his mark upon the soldiers he had created, staining their souls with his sinister influence. years of therapy, reconditioning, and heroism had only acted as a buffer from the remnants of his control. perry allowed thane to stand beside him. he watches as the man lifts a ring with careful precision and takes aim. perry watches the faint glow that lights up the man's arm, resisting his own urge to wrinkle his nose. he hadn't needed to rely on tricks to hit his shots. perry had done so thanks to countless hours of practice. he shakes the dismissive thoughts that run rampant in his mind. that was the remnants of his conditioning speaking, making him believe that he was truly superior over all others.

"If you saw me would you think me threatening?" his appearance lent himself an air of weakness. especially when standing beside a hero so substantial as thane who easily towered over him. "probably not." he says before than can answer, "I use that to my advantage. people don't expect me to pack a punch or to be so quick." he accepts the dog offered to him with a smile. he was unused to receiving gifts. the mind melder hadn't exactly been a doting parent. "between you and me I like being underestimated," he holds both teddy bear and stuffed dog against his side now. "makes it fun."

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane listened without interrupting, the din of the carnival fading beneath the weight of Perry’s words. Something in the younger man’s tone—soft, careful, almost testing—pulled Thane’s attention fully onto him. Not the bear, not the prizes, not the glowing bulbs strung across the stalls. Him.

He didn’t answer Perry’s question immediately. Instead, his gaze swept over the smaller hero—compact build, easy smile hiding tension in the shoulders, the faint tremor he tried to disguise with humor. Thane saw the calculation beneath it, the remnants of discipline forged under cruelty, and the strength that had grown in defiance of it.

“No,” he said quietly, meeting Perry’s eyes. “I wouldn’t think you threatening.” A beat. “But I would think you capable.”

There was no pity in his tone—just recognition, sharpened by experience.

Perry spoke again before he could elaborate, and Thane’s expression softened. Underestimated. The word landed heavier than Perry likely intended. Thane had spent years teaching young heroes how to handle that double-edged blade. Some hid behind it. Some resented it. Perry… Perry weaponized it with a kind of mischievous pride.

“It suits you,” Thane replied, warmth rising beneath the evenness of his voice. “People look at you and see what they expect. You let them. And then you decide the moment they’re proven wrong.”

He watched Perry adjust the plushes at his side—both half his size, both dwarfed by his strength. The small smile Perry wore wasn’t the practiced one he’d given the attendant; this one was genuine, if a little uncertain. Thane found himself returning it.

“You know,” he added, stepping lightly out of the way of a passing crowd, “being underestimated isn’t the weakness people think it is. It’s a shield of its own kind. One you crafted for yourself.”

Then, quieter, with a hint of something like admiration: “And it makes the moment you stop holding back… all the more impressive.”

[fortuidousfortitude]

Abraham listens carefully, focusing on how Thane is talking since he can't see his facial expressions. Thane's not a hard man to read though. That's part of why Abraham had agreed to letting him join the Protectors in the first place.

He sighs and nods in understanding. He hadn't been part of the team when the Captain had been leading them. But he knows what happened almost as well as Janus does because of his friend. And he understands the weight Thane is putting on himself right now.

When he's sure Thane has said the bulk of his peace, Abraham finally turns to him.

"We're not building a chain, though. We're building a wall. Layering ourselves on the foundation of those before us. And Captain Fortitude was our corner stone. What happened to him wasn't because he or the others were lazy. It just happened."

He places a hand on Thane's shoulder.

"Don't take the wrong lessons from history, man. There are more of us now, so that no one has to do what the Captain did. You understand that?"

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane doesn’t flinch at the hand on his shoulder, but he does go very still — like the contact clicks something into place inside him.

He meets Abraham’s eyes then, not hiding the conflict in his own. The city’s glow traces along the lines of his face, the glow of his Aegis faint but steady, like a heartbeat he hasn’t fully powered down.

“I understand,” he says quietly. And he does. Intellectually. Rationally. The way a mentor is supposed to.

But emotionally… it’s another story.

Thane looks back out over Elysium City, jaw tightening with a strain he rarely lets others see. His voice dips, firm and earnest — not dramatic, but convicted.

“It’s just—when I stand up there, when people look to me… I feel the shape of what he left behind.” His fingers curl faintly at his sides. “And I want to fill it. Not replace him. Not copy him. But…”

He exhales a slow, weighted breath.

“To rise to what he represented. To be the one they can trust to stand where it matters most.”

He hesitates, searching for the right phrasing — the truth without speaking the name.

“He was the shield of this city. The first one people thought of when danger hit. And when I step forward, when my Aegis flares—people expect something like that again.”

Thane’s throat works around an unspoken sentence: and I want to be worthy of that expectation.

Instead he says, more softly:

“I don’t need to be him. But I want to carry what he carried. Strong enough that no one else ever has to make his choice again.”

His gaze returns to Abraham, a flicker of vulnerability slipping through his usual composure.

“If there are more of us now… then I want to be the one others can build on.”

Another pause — then a small, rueful smile.

“A cornerstone, right? Even if I’m still learning how to stand without trying to hold up the whole damn wall myself.”

[herolysium]

LOCATION  :         THE  HEADMASTER'S  OFFICE,      THE  ACROPOLIS.

“     …  this  is  a  private  room  and  only  open  for  appointments.  but  since  you're  here  now,  do  come  in  …  ?     ”                 janus  says,  trying  to  be  nonchalant  about  the  whole  deal,  pretending  that  he's  not  just  standing  there  with  just  a  towel,  still  fresh  from  the  shower  (  and  holding  a  glass  of  bourbon.  classy.  ).  perhaps  this  was  a  sign  then.  try  as  he  might  to  take  a  break  from  the  responsibilities,  it  will  just  come  to  him  regardless.  even  in  a  day  of  festivities  like  this.      “     did  anyone  send  you?  are  they  asking  for  me?     ”

open starter / @fortivoice.

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane paused in the doorway. He hadn’t meant to interrupt — gods, he really hadn’t. He’d only come to deliver a status report from the training floors, something quick, something he’d assumed Janus would be fully dressed for.

Instead… towel. Steam in the air. Bourbon. The headmaster looking like he’d just stepped out of a myth and into a very compromising moment.

Thane cleared his throat once — quietly, respectfully — and stepped inside with the careful posture of someone approaching a startled animal… or a superior officer half-naked.

“Ah. No, sir. No one sent me.” His voice remained steady, disciplined, but there was a heat across his ears he couldn’t hide.

“I was doing post-event rounds. Thought I should report directly that the upper halls are secure, and the students have all returned to their dorms. A few stragglers are still celebrating, but nothing out of control.”

He shifted, eyes intentionally fixed anywhere but the towel.

“…I didn’t mean to intrude. The door was unlocked, so I assumed—” His danger sense flickered belatedly, a little jolt in his ribs.

Too late now, Callister.

He exhaled, finally letting his gaze meet Janus’s — respectful, but tinged with something warmer, something he’d never voice.

“If you need privacy, I can return later. Or… if this is about someone looking for you, I can handle whatever it is.”

A practiced guardian’s offer — steady, protective — even as he stood there trying very hard not to notice the water still running down Janus’s collarbone.

[fortuidousfortitude]

"Brooding alone on a rooftop? Pretty cliche if you ask me."

Abraham steps up on the roof. He'd seen the figure standing at the top and decided to take a stroll up the side of the building to make sure they were okay. He's not that surprised to see the new Protector up here. Most newbies tend to take to position so serious to a detrimental point.

He tucks his hands in his pockets, having changed out of his armor after the main events had calmed down. Now he's just headmaster and civilian Abraham rather than hero Magnitude.

"Now, needing to be alone after the crazy day, I can understand," he continues, "but the way your brow is set seems less relaxing."

He leans back against the railing, looking up at the sky to give Thane some privacy.

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane doesn’t look over right away — not until Abraham’s weight settles against the railing and the quiet between them becomes something intentional rather than accidental.

Only then does he exhale, slow and controlled, the kind of breath that feels like it’s been held for hours.

“Cliché, maybe,” he murmurs, eyes still on the city lights below. “But it’s quiet up here. Easier to let the noise in my head sort itself out.”

The breeze tugs at the loose strands of his hair, the titanium-blue glow faint along the seams of his suit where stray energy hasn’t fully settled from earlier. He should have powered down completely by now. He hasn’t.

His jaw flexes once before he forces it still.

“Didn’t mean to look… intense.” A dry huff leaves him — not quite a laugh. “Guess old habits don’t retire easily.”

He finally angles his gaze toward Abraham, taking in the man’s civilian state — the easy posture, the hands tucked away, the lack of armor. A reminder that the day was over. That he could let himself stand down.

“Today was a lot,” Thane admits, voice lower now. “In a good way. Just… big. Bigger than I expected.”

He shifts his weight, turning enough to face the same direction Abraham is looking, giving him the same courtesy of half-privacy.

“I kept thinking—what if I miss something? What if I oversee one wrong detail? What if someone gets hurt because I wasn’t paying attention?”

A beat of silence. The truth slips out softer:

“Captain Fortitude didn’t get second chances.”

Thane rubs a hand along the back of his neck, muscles tense from more than the day’s events.

“I just don’t want to be the weak link in what they built.”

He glances at Abraham again, a faint, apologetic smile forming.

“So yeah. Brooding. Guilty as charged.”

[heroicheirs]

Location: Colosseum With: Open

There were a lot of things Lance wasn't good at that were being highlighted in the celebrations. At the forefront of those? Actually dealing with the general public. Yes, sure, part of his classes covered public relations and the ever growing list of how to remain approachable in times of stress and distrust, and especially situations after something catastrophic happen. He knew how to handle those. He trained in how to handle those. Usually left it to the people with a more... friendly neighbourhood hero disposition, but still. He could do it.

This, however, was an entirely different mess of things happening in situations he didn't have any kind of training for, so he went with the easy way out. Or. One of the easy ways out, he probably could've just chilled at one of the fat parties but that also involved people an- Besides the point. He'd gone with the option that appealed more to his nature...

Picking a fight with anybody willing and making a spectacle of it whichever way it went down. Mostly because training by himself was steadily growing less interesting, and it didn't involve anything beyond public cheering or jeering. A win or two under his belt, a few more losses when it came to punching above his paygrade, and he finally tossed in the towel to just... crash out in the stands to watch the next training match. Little attention paid to who he dropped next to beyond making sure the melting remnants of ice still clinging to his skin didn't go too wide.

"Who d'you thinks winning?"

... He was trying conversation, at least?

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane had noticed Lance long before the younger hero dropped into the seat beside him — not because of the melting frost sliding off his shoulders, not even because Lance tended to radiate restless energy like a tuning fork struck too hard — but because Thane’s premonitory reflex had been prickling off and on since the arena scuffles began.

Not danger. Not really. Just inevitability.

He stood with his arms folded, still half-armored from earlier demonstrations, the faint glow of his Aegis lingering beneath the plates like a heartbeat that hadn’t quite settled. His gaze followed the clash in the center ring for a moment longer before shifting toward the pyrokinetic slumped beside him.

When Lance asked the question, Thane didn’t look immediately. Instead, he exhaled slow through his nose — amused.

“Depends,” he replied, voice low rumble, the kind that carried even without effort. “If you ask the crowd? Whoever throws the biggest hit.”

A beat. He finally turned, meeting Lance’s eyes with that composed, unreadable steadiness mentors seemed to perfect.

“But if you’re asking me…” He tipped his head toward the ring. “The one who keeps their guard up the longest.”

A faint smirk ghosted at the corner of his mouth — there and gone, a rare crack in the disciplined façade.

His gaze flicked over Lance, then down to the wet patches forming beneath the seat. “You’ve already been in three matches. You planning to keep picking fights until someone drags you back to medical?”

There was no judgment in the question — only recognition. Thane knew that itch. The need to move, to burn off something that training dummies couldn’t take from you.

He stepped back from the railing, rolling one shoulder. The armor plates along his arm hummed faintly, responding to the shift in intention.

“If it’s a real challenge you’re after…” His eyes sharpened, and for a moment the arena lights caught in them like cold flame. “You could stop asking who’s winning.”

A pause — deliberate. Measured. Invitation disguised as observation.

“You and I can find out.”

[thrallttleme]

whomst: open! n.n location: open! (fortitude hall museum)

Day of fortitude was up and running. The citizens of Elysium were grinning wide and so was Virgil. He hadn't expected to have fun so soon into joining the band of supers. He had often believed his stay wouldn't be this long, nor enjoyable. None of the reasons for his reasoning being at all to do with him and his habit of pissing people off. Reprimands and punishments aside, Virgil found name for himself. It may have been pronounced as "cumslut", but Little Spoon was a good proud name nonetheless.

And just like bad nicknames, Virgil had begun to struggle with something else he wanted to shake off. As he walked around the Fortitude Hall Museum, Virgil's face was absolutely chummy as the weight of the museum keys sat in his front pocket. He had snuck himself behind a desk, charming the museum staff with a promise of adding another white and stiff artifact on display.

Sneaking out a tour guide paddle for good measure, Virgil continued to make his way towards a restricted area of the museum. The heavy curtains and sheets draped across weapons meant to be displayed for later. A grin spread across his lips as a finger slid across the barrel of what Virgil had guessed was a laser gun. Its chrome finishing shined even in the dull and dim lighting of the museum storage space.

Leaning down to get a closer look, Virgil felt a pair of hands yanking him back and pinning him towards a wall. Virgil's eyes widen in confusion as well as panic. He brings his hands up, already in surrender of the other person. "Please! Please don't hurt me! I have a television and a dvr full of cabel tv waiting for me at home!"

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane hadn’t been scheduled for museum patrol today.

He’d volunteered anyway.

Day of Fortitude always brought crowds — and with crowds came risk, overeager fans slipping past barriers, kids climbing displays, the occasional opportunistic idiot thinking a relic from the Protectors’ past might make a good souvenir. The Academy faculty rotated quietly through the building, keeping an eye out. Thane preferred the museum wing; it was quiet, reverent. A place where the weight of history settled on his shoulders in a way that felt almost… grounding.

So when he saw a familiar mop of hair slip behind a velvet rope and vanish through the curtained archway into restricted storage, Thane’s premonitory reflex buzzed like a spark up his spine.

Virgil. Of course.

He didn’t activate his full Aegis — no threat yet — but his steps were silent, purposeful. He parted the curtain just in time to see Virgil, tour-guide paddle in hand, leaning over a covered display as if auditioning for a crime documentary reenactment.

Thane sighed under his breath. This kid is going to give me grey hair before my time.

When Virgil bent closer to the chrome weapon, Thane moved. One hand caught the back of his jacket, the other pressing flat to his shoulder to brace him against the nearest wall — not hurting, not slamming, just stopping him before he triggered something that could vaporize half the building if mishandled. His Aegis flickered faintly across his forearm, a protective reflex rather than aggression.

Virgil’s hands shot up immediately. “Please! Please don’t hurt me! I have a television and a DVR full of cable TV waiting for me at home!”

Thane’s jaw tightened — not in anger, but in baffled exasperation. For a moment, he simply looked at Virgil, letting the panic spill out of him uninterrupted. He waited until the worst of it passed before he eased his hand back, giving the younger hero space without letting him bolt deeper into storage.

His voice came low, steady, the kind of calm that could smother a wildfire.

“…Virgil. Breathe.”

A beat. He kept his distance now, palms open in plain sight.

“If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t be standing. I’m here to keep you from blowing a hole through the museum wall.”

His gaze flicked to the chrome weapon behind them.

“That relic was deactivated decades ago — but you didn’t know that.” Another sigh, softer this time. “You can’t be back here. Not alone. And definitely not touching things you can’t identify.”

Thane crossed his arms, posture firm but not threatening.

“Now,” he added, tilting his head slightly, “do you want to explain why you’re giving yourself unauthorized after-hours access… or should we start with how you charmed your way into obtaining keys you absolutely were not issued?”

[diademdreams]

hearing his name being said in such a normal way felt like fresh air in his lungs. he couldn't recall his name being said with even a hint of positivity before coming to fortitude hall, a small thing like that made him feel a little more apart of things. he huffed and stood up a little straighter as thane approached him — and as he caught his breath from all those stairs.

"Yeah, I kind of suck with the whole 'patience' thing..." storms and lightning weren't really known for that particular trait, "I guess that's what the class is for, its gonna be hard I know it." he chuckled and slurped at his slushie. cris didn't seem too nervous about the class despite his words. he knew he was going to have a hard time, so why not just be honest about it?

"A bit of everything? The view's killer, perfect place for just...watching people. I spend a lot of time looking up, so I did see a bit of your armor..." he looked around and the scenery, he could see himself coming up here to think on his own. "Oh, and, it just felt right."

Soft steps of converse sneakers against metal sounded as he made his way to the railing that kept him from going over the edge. "Like...if I was needing quiet, but I had a job to do and need to keep an eye out, this would be the spot to do it. Sucks to get down from though." sure he could use his storm abilities to get himself down or, heaven forbid, rely on his ever-so-unreliable gravity…thing, but that seemed like too much risk of property damage and potential damage to himself.

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane watched him straighten — that subtle, almost unconscious lift of the spine people did when they finally felt seen. He didn’t comment on it aloud, but he let the acknowledgment show in the way his gaze softened, the way his stance shifted from defensive sentinel to something more grounded, more human.

Cristian’s honesty earned a brief, quiet huff of amusement from Thane. “Patience isn’t something you’re born with,” he said. “It’s something you earn. Usually the hard way.”

He didn’t say it as a warning — more like a truth he’d lived through.

When Cristian stepped past him toward the railing, Thane tracked the movement instinctively, the faint pulse of his Aegis responding to the change in proximity. Not out of distrust — just habit. Years of being the shield meant his body reacted before his mind did.

He followed at a slower pace, boots giving a measured metallic rhythm against the deck.

“The view is good for watching people,” Thane admitted, leaning lightly against the railing beside him. “You learn a lot from a distance. Patterns. Tension points. Where things could go wrong before they actually do.”

He glanced sideways at Cristian — not penetrating, just assessing in that quiet mentor way.

“‘It just felt right,’” he echoed, one brow lifting in something like a half-smile. “Instinct is a tool. Not perfect, but useful. Especially in situations where you don’t get time to think.”

A breeze lifted between them, carrying the scent of ocean salt and warm metal.

Cristian’s comment about getting down drew a small, low laugh from Thane — rare, but genuine.

“Trust me,” he said, “even with flight-capable teammates, we’ve had our fair share of rooftop incidents. You’re doing the responsible thing not testing gravity today.”

He pushed off the railing, crossing his arms loosely over his chest.

“If you want this spot for thinking,” he added, tone quieter now, “use it. It’s not just for patrols. Heroes need quiet as much as they need training.”

Then, after a beat:

“And when class starts… you won’t be doing it alone. Patience or otherwise.”

[killertwhips]

perry doesn't take the hero declining his offer to heart. he simply nods, wishing them luck with whatever they play next. perhaps he shouldn't have teased them before offering help? that had been instinctive. he always quipped and shot the shit on the field with his fellow heroes, civilians, and bad guys. undeterred by rejection, perry turned his focus to the stuffed animals on offer at the stall. he looked them all over before flicking his eyes downward onto the game. ring toss? he didn't blame the other guy for rejecting his offer. perry would have been embarrassed if he couldn't win as something as trivial as ring toss, too.

when thane joins him perry doesn't break focus. he's got his eyes fixed to the stuffed animals decorating the stall. none of them were up to his standard, but were all cute in their own special way. "thanks." perry finally affords thane a little smile, casting a glance over at him. he had seen the many around but had never spoken to him one on one before. "I could have won that other guy five prizes, but I guess he didn't want a handout." perry offers several tickets to the attendant before being handed several rings. when thane compliments his aim he beams beneath the attention. he hadn't been conditioned since birth to be anything other than excellent. "it's easy!" perry takes one ring between thumb and forefinger. he takes aim before tossing the ring outward. it flings through the air before catching around the neck of a bottle. each bottle had a different color decorating the rim denoting the prize. perry had purposefully chosen the highest ranking color, one that would score him a prize worthy of his skill. "you take aim. determine the strength you need to use. and fire." that was much easier said than done, and perry had nearly twenty-one years of experience. he takes a large stuffed duck from the attendant and offers it to thane, "there ya go." he holds the duck out for thane to take, not at all interested in keeping it for himself. it was yellow and a particular yellow that wouldn't match his adorably articulated room.

[shieldandshoulders]

Thane accepted the duck with a quiet laugh he didn’t let fully escape, the sound warm and low in his chest. It was oversized, soft, and unmistakably cheerful—an amusing contrast to the steel-straight lines of his posture. He held it with surprising care, brushing his thumb across the plush fabric as though it were something delicate.

“Thank you,” he said, sincerity coloring every syllable. “Can’t say anyone’s ever won me a duck before.”

He set it gently off to the side of the booth before stepping in beside Perry, close enough that he could speak without raising his voice, but never crowding. When the attendant slid a fresh set of rings toward him, he picked one up and weighed it in his palm, letting the familiar hum of the Aegis settle low beneath his skin.

“You’re right,” Thane murmured, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the bottles, “aim, strength, follow-through. But…”

A faint pulse of azure light traced up his arm—subtle, polite, nothing disruptive. Only Perry, standing this close, would notice it. Thane flicked the ring upward, but instead of sailing with brute force, it slowed mid-air. It drifted, guided by a thin shimmer barely visible unless one looked for it, adjusting its angle just enough to compensate for the booth’s deliberate tilt.

The ring glided down and slipped neatly over the bottle neck like it had been invited.

Thane let the energy fade with a soft exhale. “Sometimes,” he said, glancing at Perry with a wry glint in his eye, “your ability doesn’t just protect you. It gives you an advantage others don’t expect.”

He retrieved the prize—a floppy-eared dog this time—and extended it toward Perry without hesitation.

“A lesson,” he added, tone gentle but edged with quiet pride. “On how to stay a step ahead… especially in a world that doesn’t always play fair.”