Keeping track of the things I write is difficult on my other theme. So this tumblr will exist as a way for me to keep track of and update my stories :3
I've recently gotten into visual novels - specifically ones that I saw a YouTuber that I just found playing. The most recent obsession is basically yandere shenanigans... probably not too surprising considering what I've been relogging on tumblr.
Criminally Yours and Binary Star Hero are ones that really got me started, and I keep circling those worlds... I recently asked on the Criminally Yours discord a long complicated question about what species and classes/subclasses the trio would want to play if they were still in college. I have this weird college AU set in my head, playing out, and Wes said he liked D&D and it's kinda been a hyper fixation for the last 4 or so years -..-
The only thing I want to understand more about Binary Star Hero.... would be like... a superhero style database where the heroes and their powers are listed, as well as what the aliens are and their capabilities and how to kill them works.
But like... it's weird but... this might be a thing that's getting me into writing again. Just fan fiction, and just for myself right now. But... I've separated myself from writing so much... I just lost all hope and drive and direction for it... and this is getting me writing again? The world is... people are weird.
Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…
Summary: Now that Amy's awake, it's time to hammer out some plans...
Magpie had left Siheta and Bull in the Chantry, sprinting towards Amy's new room. She was relieved to see Tunan and Tunen more presentable than they had been... Not that Tunan was much of a chore in the mornings. He was mostly quiet, needing time to wake up fully before being ready to converse with anyone... Tunen on the other hand. She was a feral cat and needed expert care after waking otherwise you'd get swiped.
“Hey! Good. You're both up. Uh...” she stuttered in place, trying to think of what to say next exactly. “There's a council meeting right now, but if you guys wanted to wait in the tavern—”
“Council meeting?” Tunan asked, his voice conveying a sense of puzzling concern.
“Yes. With Amy being...well, back. Mostly. Everyone's gathering to discuss...things.” she shrugged.
“When are we leaving?” Tunen interrupted.
“What?” Magpie felt as cold as everything in her seeped into a deep dread. Leaving?
“Yes, leaving, as in returning home.” Tunen clarified. Had she asked out loud? She must've.
“I'm... not leaving.” Magpie announced, incredulous.
The twins did that thing that they do from time to time where they exchanged a glance that held layers of communication. Magpie could read Tunen's frustration along with Tunan's (strangely smug?) acceptance. It was endearing because she was able to read it...it was also irritating.
One of Tunan's fingers twitched towards his sister. “Um. Why not?” he asked haltingly. “I mean...”
“We came here to find you.” Tunen follows, her manner abrupt. Clearly, it's still too early for her to stray away from that hissing cat inside of her.
“And I appreciate that.” Magpie said.
“Can I just..” Tunan was now actually holding his hand up towards Tunen, attempting to cage the beast. “Can I ask...why you want to stay?”
Magpie blinked at him. “I mean.. you did. Just now.” His expression fell, as if to say, ‘really? now? you're doing this now?’. If she was being honest, she'd have to admit that she was stalling, because...
Because this was an out. She could leave. But she didn't want to... and now she needed to ask herself why.
“I mean... the Inquisition is in a position to actually fix the problem.” The typical excuse was the easiest to fall back to.
“What problem?” Tunen asked.
“Uhhh! The breach? All the breaches?”
“OK, so...” Tunan stepped in again, apparently taking on the role as mediator. “You think the Inquisition can help, and you want to be a part of that?” he asked, and Magpie at least felt like he was genuinely interested in her response.
She took a deep breath and tried to settle herself. “I think... I think...yeah.”
Great work there. So eloquent.
“Look, I just feel like... I need to be here.”
Tunen had been staring at her in complete befuddlement. Her eyes twitched towards her brother, and she deflated with a sigh at the look of obvious reproach on his face.
“Just... tell me you're not doing this for the shems.” Tunen grumbled.
Magpie felt her back teeth grind. Something about that statement rankled her, but she's fighting to keep that from showing.
“I am in a position to help. And I want to stay for me.”
“What makes you think they'd allow you to do anything worth doing anyway?” Tunen countered. “And even if you did do anything worth doing, what makes you think they’d let you own it?”
“Look, I'm technically working for Amy, here.” Magpie argued, dismissively. “That carries a lot of weight.” And that much was true. Even though Magpie wasn’t really working for Amy, she’d managed to convince others that she was… and when people heard that, they kind of fell in line.
“Yeah, and who's she anyway?” Tunen continued, not at all impressed. “Until I got here and you started talking about her, I had never heard of her.”
"Well, she's a big deal right now to everyone.” Magpie snapped.
She couldn't help but notice that Tunan kept turning between the two of them, a single hand stretched in both directions, though his focus shifted as each of them spoke.
“According to who? And for how long? I swear, these shems just give out shit and then take it away. That’s what they do. What assurances do you have that any progress you've made is safe or will last?”
“Alright.” Tunan's voice was very deep, and he typically kept his tone low. Now was one of those rare times his voice felt as though it boomed simply because he wasn't trying to sound docile anymore. The boom of his unfiltered voice shocked even him. He cleared his throat, and lowered his voice again. “Let's take a breath... and remember that we are all here for each other.” he reminded, as though he were attempting to sooth a pair of caged beasts.
“I... want to stay.” Magpie announced, feeling the truth of that and the weight behind it even if she wasn’t certain the motivations in the statement yet. “This has become important to me, and I feel like I am not done here. I appreciate that you came all this way; and I am sorry that I'm the only one that was here, and I'm not being as cooperative as you'd like.”
“That's not—” Tunen began, but couldn’t really finish her thought.
“But!... It all boils down to me not wanting to leave yet.”
At that Tunan nodded, giving his sister a placating look. His head tilting, his brow peaking in his version of puppy dog eyes. She sighed at that, the fight mostly taken out of her.
Tunen shrugged, reluctantly. “Well... at least it's interesting here.”
Tunan continued nodding as well, seemingly relieved.
“But we aren't going to keep sleeping on the floor, are we?” Tunen pleaded.
Magpie chuckled, shaking her head. “Doubtful.”
“Well, that's a relief.” Tunan murmured, preaching against the wall now that he didn't feel the need to dive between the two of them as a negotiator. “And your Amy is pleasant enough.”
‘for a shem.’ Went unsaid, but Magpie had a feeling that was very much felt. Even if Tunan didn’t voice it as much as Tunen, he had never been overly fond of operating near or with humans.
But that was a discussion for another day.
“Great.” Magpie said. “Good talk. Now...if you'll excuse me. I have a meeting to get to.”
“Oooh. Fancy.” Tunen cooed, her tension seemingly defused now that they’d talked.
With a soft snort Magpie left them, making her way to the council chamber. She was relieved that the map room was enormous (at least in comparison to Josie's office) and that she wasn't the last one here.
Seeing Amy was a bit of a shock. She was between Josephine and Leliana — odd because they usually flanked the table at opposite ends. Cullen was glaring down at the map. Madame de Fer was there as well, near Leliana's usual spot.
Magpie was a little shocked to find Amy in...well...nice clothes. Amy always had to make do with whatever she could find. Seeing her in something fitted was...strange.
She was wearing a very delicate looking white tunic with long sleeves that billowed, but over that was a tightly fitted dark leather vest, very tailored breeches, and knee-high boots. There were various straps and belts, both to keep things in place and to string sheaths onto.... Her hair was mostly down. The braid had been undone, a thick ponytail hanging low on the nape of her neck while errant curls leaked out to frame her face....
She looked good. Even better, she looked…healthy. Not leaning or waning as Magpie had seen after her previous episodes.
Thankfully, Magpie noticed Sehita in the shadows behind Amy. The towering woman caught Magpie's eye and nodded for her to join them. That put a halt on her next internal crisis, as she had no idea where to really put herself. She trotted over, relieved when Amy's eyes lighted on her and she smiled.
Amy reached for her hand once she was in range, the gesture instantly assuaging her tension. The fact that it was easy for Amy to turn away from the others to greet her was…comforting. She could deal with the questions of why she didn't want to go home, and if she had a proper place that would affect any change later. Right now, she was needed and wanted and that counted for something.
“Well damn.” Varric said, entering with Sam right behind him. “Would you look at this.” he said, motioning to Amy.
“Yeah, they can't keep me down, and honestly that's what matters most.” Amy said with a conspirator’s grin and a stubborn gleam in her eyes.
Again, Varric seemed to come up short, blinking rapidly and holding his hands up. “And with complete sentences this time.”
“Every time I go down, I come back with upgrades.” Amy warned. “One day I'll be invulnerable.”
Cullen half scoffed half laughed at that.
“I said 'one day'.” Amy defended.
Sara and Blackwall were the last to show up, and Sara couldn't just show up without making a fuss.
“Ooiii! Lookatchu! All gussied up!” Sara crowed with a leer.
“I mean, I don't know what you've been doing, but I—” Amy reached down, griping, and pushing up her own breasts as though she were situating them properly. “was getting fancy.” It seemed to be the right response, as Sera giggled, and Blackwall looked elsewhere with a grin.
The room filled up soon after. Solas, Cassandra, and Bull finally making their way into the chamber. Even this big room seemed a little crowded.
“So, we have our Charmer back and better than ever.” Varric noticed as a way of kicking off the meeting.
“Indeed.” Leliana confirmed. “And considering that the information she has shared with us has been verified, I believe we are ready to move.” Gazes sharpened as that was dropped in front of them.
Not that Magpie ever had any real doubts about the things that Amy was saying. With everything going on, a human touched enough to predict the future wasn’t that crazy. She’d seen Sam use a glowing hole in his hand to close rifts, after all.
“Verified? Then…?” Cassandra’s questions went unspoken as she couldn’t find the proper words or the paths for those words to take.
“Our two-pronged plan will begin tomorrow.” Cullen stated with the certainty of steel. “Cassandra will disguise herself as a Lieutenant with a regiment under her to reinforce our position on the Storm Coast. Simultaneously, Sam will make his way to initiate contact with the mages at Redcliff. According to Amy, after the initial contact, Sam will be invited back to Redcliff formally. This will give Cassandra and her team time to deal with whatever is going on at Caer Oswin.”
“Our scouts have confirmed that while Caer Oswin is inhabited, there is very little in the way of noticeable traffic.” Lelianna informed. “It should be easy for a regiment and a team to secure the grounds.”
“Considering the time it will take for Sam to initiate the plan with the mages, Cassandra’s team could potentially be finished and on their way to Therinfall before Sam is finished with Redcliff.” Cullen estimated, though whether this is his opinion on the time it would take traveling back and forth between Redcliff, or his high estimations of Cassandra, it was difficult to say.
“It is not the entourage that I had hoped for,” Josephine began. “however, I was able to secure a few prominent Orlesian nobles to accompany our concerned party to Therinfall.”
“Abernache?” Amy cut in to ask.
Josephine eyed her first, eyes drifting to the ever-present paperwork in front of her before saying, “Yes…Lord Abernache is among those who are interested in confronting the Templar order.” She seemed only slightly put off by Amy’s insight.
“A prominent figure?” Madame Vivienne asked, though by her tone one may think she were inquiring about the weather.
Amy shrugged. “No more or less than anyone else. He has his part to play, and that is enough to note his significance. That should be enough on its own.”
Perhaps Amy didn’t see it as she wasn’t really meeting anyone’s eye, but Magpie couldn’t help but notice the slightest arch in Vivienne’s brow. As though Amy had said something she had not anticipated… What that meant, Magpie wasn’t sure, but she did know look of reappraisal when she saw one.
“How far is Caer Oswin from Therinfal as far as traveling time?” Amy asked.
“It would take a well-armed troop of men moving with purpose less than a full day’s travel, given the terrain…and the need for secrecy.” Cullen shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps a few hours more, but not by much.”
“After the hubbub at Redcliff, I intend to take my team and hustle towards Therinfal Redoubt.” Sam announced.
“That might be unsafe…” Amy murmured, concerned. “Mostly because you will have already undergone so much.”
Sam smirked at her. “Ease up, mum. We’re all grown, and we can take care of ourselves.”
Amy’s eyes scrunched up as she glared at him, but it was more for being called ‘mum’ than anything.
“Bull, Solas, and Varric will be accompanying me during my tour of Redcliff.” Sam announced. The three people he had called out nodded their assent. “We’ll have another team waiting in the wings to help Cassandra. Madame Vivienne, Sera, Blackwall, that’ll be you. Don’t imagine any of you will have a problem handling rogue templars.”
“Not at all.” Madame Vivienne replied coolly.
“Cullen will move some troops into the Hinterlands after the initial contact, under the guise of reinforcing the camps we’ve established and surveying the damage that the Mages and Templars have reeked. In truth, he will be in place should anything happen that requires us to take Redcliff from the mages and the magister.”
Sam paused and surveyed Amy. “We don’t have much time, but while this is all happening, at least in the day and a half it’ll take us to travel there, make contact, and return, we would like it if you met with a few tutors that could assist you with your magic.”
Amy gave a single, decisive nod. “I would like to begin that as immediately as I can, actually.”
“I don’t see why not.” Sam murmured with a shrug. Everyone was already on standby as it was. “It shouldn’t be too difficult wrangle everyone together after the noon meal.”
“Tutors?” Solas asked, his eyes darting back and forth. “What tutors are those?”
“Madame Vivienne has brought a magic user with her. One who relies on his music to work his magic.” Lelianna announced.
“Zither??” Amy asked, half laughing already. “Oh, this’ll be a wild ride.”
Again, while Madame Vivienne’s face revealed nothing, Magpie noted her eyes darting to a very smug looking Lelianna. Lelianna hadn’t told Amy anything about anyone named Zither, that much Magpie was certain of… whether or not the mage recognized this wasn’t entirely clear, considering her consummate poker face.
“From what I understand,” Josephine began, flipping through some of the pages on her clipboard. “we have several mages that are more than willing to weigh in their opinions as well. Norton, Baxtien, Elossa, even Siheta will all be present and capable of aiding Amy if their expertise should be needed.”
“Oh good. Always better to perform for a crowd.” Amy half grumbled with a taxed smile.
“If you can perform at all.” Bull grunted with a smirk. Amy flicked her middle finger up at him with a dazzling smile. “Seriously, Charmer, maybe you’ve got everyone else convinced you’re almighty, but I’m still on the fence here. You haven’t really given me anything that’s impressed me.”
It was a bluff, but the tension that spiked through the room at Bull’s words was very real. Everyone held their breath, waiting to see how Amy would handle this.
She smirked. “I can give you eleven reasons.” She said with honey-sweet words, and her grin only depend when Bull’s attention snapped away, obviously trying to pair the number 11 with anything significant to him. He didn’t have 11 chargers… so… She held a finger to her lips as though she were telling a secret. “The first hit’s free.” She used the same finger tracing the secret on her lips to point to the hinterlands. “She’s right here… and she’s so pretty.” She said, leaning over the map almost suggestively, her eyes never leaving Bull’s. “All orange and yellow with such majestic curling horns and livid fire. I know you’d love to take her.” He smile was positively feline.
Bull blinked hard before taking in a deep breath through his nose and letting it out.
“Wait…” Sam’s face went slack. “Are you ….talking about a dragon?”
“A Ferelden Frostback, right under your noses. Weak to cold but resistant to fire damage. She cannot be slowed or disabled, and she’s got a whole mess of drakes to protect her and her dragonlings.” She straightened before looking to Sam with a more serious air. “There’s a pass leading to Redcliff that’s being guarded by bandits that aren’t bandits.” She waved off his look of confusion. “One mystery at a time, Sam. I can explain later. One of your scouts will warn you of this when you try to take the road, that is if they haven’t already.”
“They…haven’t. We’ve been focusing on the people and the cult, and you know, that whole mage/templar fight thing that’s going on.” Sam grumbled.
Amy ignored Sam’s cross tone to continue explaining. “The bandits are set up in a nice little nook. Beyond that nook is a natural stone archway that leads to her lair.” Her eyes bore into Bull. “I wouldn’t advise entering that archway and her lair until you’re completely ready to take on a high dragon.”
“I’m always ready to take on a high dragon.” Bull practically growled; his enthusiasm high.
“Bull.” Sam murmured, attempting to regain control.
“Boss.” He whined.
“Priorities.” Sam reminded. “Take out the bandits, set up a camp there to fall back to if things go south with the mages, take on the mages. Then, once we’ve gotten the mages taken care of…maybe after we’ve sealed the breach, we’ll go after the dragon. It isn’t as if we’ll never be in the Hinterlands again.”
Bull seemed mollified even if slightly petulant.
“There were some names that you mentioned that I’d like to revisit.” Lelianna noted. “Names of some mages that you said Sam should talk to.”
“Yes!” Amy said, snapping right back into the gravity of the situation before them. She righted herself, and her attention was now back on Sam. “Clemence will be the easiest to find. You’ll be asked to meet in the tavern, and he’s there. He’s a tranquil alchemist, but Alexius doesn’t want the tranquil around. So, he’ll volunteer to go with you and join the inquisition.”
“Lucky.”
“Talwyn is at the bar in the tavern. You can speak to him after Clemence. But you should keep these interactions subtle.” She scowled, sounding disgruntled as she continued. “I’m sure Linnea will be watching you, and she could be a problem.”
Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Next is either Lysas or Hanley. Hanley’s a human mage standing near the statue to the hero of Ferelden, and he’ll be very happy to see you. He hates the involvement of the mages with Tevinter. I don’t think it would be hard to convince him to go to the crossroads to wait for you. Lysas is an elf mage who you’ll find against one of the stone archways that lead to the chantry. He voted to abandon the chantry, but the alliance with Tevinter has him shaken. He’s another one that I might be persuaded to leave if promised some protections.”
“Considering that all rouge mage and templar activity has been thoroughly halted, none of them should have a reason to stay.”
“They might not have the choice, considering that they’re Tevinter chattel.” She growled. “I don’t know if they realize it yet, but Alexius will confirm that when you meet him.”
“asshole.” Sera spat.
Amy’s face pulled into a complicated frown. There was disapproval there, but her expression seemed… almost sorrowful as well. It made Magpie wonder if perhaps there wasn’t more to this story…
“We all have our missions.” Cullen said, with what felt like finality. “If there’s nothing more, be ready to move out a dawn.”
Magpie watched as everyone began to filter out of the room, and Amy zoned in on one person… She made a beeline for Solas.
Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…
Summary: Siheta and the Iron Bull have a very candid discussion.
Notes: Don't get excited. I'm not...I mean, I've been sitting on this for a while and thinking it wasn't any good. I figured, it wouldn't hurt to post it.
“The Iron Bull.”
The mercenary captain in question was almost startled to have Siheta approach him, let alone speak to him.
“That’s my name.” he grumbled, eyeing her with unmasked suspicion.
She lifted a single eyebrow, almost as if she didn’t believe his statement ….then again, she was always looking at him like she didn’t trust him. He didn’t really blame her. In fact, it was nice of her to do him the courtesy of conveying genuine emotion. Sure, it was doubt, but at least he was confident it was authentic.
“A word in private, if you please?” It wasn’t a request. That much was obvious as she turned and sauntered away.
Bull sighed, rolling his eye expressively in Krem’s general direction before hefting himself up and following. She walked into the tavern, which felt odd. He supposed he could understand the logic. There are two entrances/exits and both were easy to monitor. Still, it didn’t fit with...well, with them. The tavern was a place of revelry, and the mood between them was tense at best.
“You know, if we keep this up, people are gonna think we’re fucking.” He drawled.
She did not dignify that with a response, and he was a little perturbed that even the notion of it didn't so much as make her blink. Did anything get a rise out of this woman? Or was she just a cold fish through and through?
“I don’t really know you, the Iron Bull.” she began. “However, if I did, I think I would like you very much.” Now it’s his turn to look unconvinced. “You tend to make everyone around you very happy, and in spite of how intimidating you appear… you make them feel safer if you can.” she explained. Her eyes drifted, as though she were inspecting those words them seconds after she’d spoken them. She evidently approved of them, sealing them with a nod. “Yes. I would probably like you very much, were it not for the Qun.”
He gave a single big nod at that, snickering as he sat down in his usual spot. It felt a little weird to be in here with no one else.
“All that isn’t to say that I don’t appreciate you as you are, but...well.” she turned and walked around the table, sitting down once the length of the entire table was between them. “The Qun makes me nervous for many reasons, most of which I’m sure you can understand without my naming them.”
He had the good sense to look squeamish. “Is that what you asked me here for…? To talk about the Qun?”
“No.” she soothed, settling forward onto her elbows. “I’m prefacing our conversation with this because there’s something else that I want to tell you. And I want you to understand, I’m not telling you this because I have any desire to see your reaction to it. I’m telling you this because you’re the only Qunari I know here; and, more to a point, you’re the only Qunari Amy knows.”
Bull’s face froze as he considered this. Slowly, very slowly, he nodded for her to continue. “Alright.”
“Last night, Amy said two words in perfect Qunlat while she slept. She said these two words twice in succession. Then she settled again.”
“You know Qunlat?”
“Why wouldn’t I? It was my parents’ first language.” she said with an almost doting smile. It was strangely reminiscent of the Tamasaren he had been so familiar with… His only response to her statement was to shrug.
“Well, don’t keep me on the edge of my seat, woman. What’d she say?”
“Katoh, Hissrad.”
At that, everything in the Iron Bull went still. As if the words were a trigger that literally made him stop.
His brain was trying to process what she was telling him, but it didn’t make any sense no matter what angle he tried to approach it in.
Amy shouldn’t know about ‘Hissrad’. No one should...Not that she hadn’t gained a reputation for knowing what she shouldn’t. And he’d never given her the ‘just say ‘Katoh’’ speech (though if he’d had the occasion to do so, he’d be one lucky son of a bitch as it’s usually a prelude to more enjoyable things).
When he finally remembered where he was and came back to himself enough to cover his tells, he was more than a little irritated to note that Siheta looked strangely satisfied. Dammit, he gave her that one. She just dropped two words, two repeated words that Amy had said, and he forgot to hold his reaction. Vashedan!
“To be clear… you’re just.. telling me this. Like..” he leaned back, throwing his right arm over the chair back while making a vague encompassing motion with his left arm. “...like just for the sake of letting me know it happened?”
“Well…” she began before letting out a heavy sigh, that damn-near indulgent smirk on her face still. “I don’t know anyone named Hissrad, but I reason that you may.”
“You know that the Qun is big, right?” Bull grumbled. “And besides, it’s less of a name and more of a title. There could be a bunch of guys walking around as Hissrad.”
Both of her eyebrows rose so loftily as she nodded with an almost amused hum. “Would we call this collective of Hissrads a Qun or a Ben hassrath?”
He half growled, but it only earned him a soft chuckle. At least someone was enjoying this brouhaha. Still...the fact that she was being so congenial was...it felt more like light-hearted teasing than barbed discourse.
“I am only telling you for your benefit.” Siheta soothed, and yet he wasn’t the least bit soothed. “Take it as you will. After all…” she shrugged. “It could’ve just been a random dream.”
He huffed out an exasperated breath, full of his disbelief and bitterness. No matter how it may seem, things were seldom ‘just random nonsense’ when it came to Amy.
He snapped back into himself, into his persona when she shifted to stand up. She rifled through the sling pouch on at her waist. His brow lifted when she sets a canister of horn balm on the table.
“Amy got some for you too, huh?” he asked.
“She did.”
He squinted at her as she pulled out the buffing cloth and brushes.
“...uh… You know, I got the same care package.” he figured his ‘you too’ question was enough to enforce that he also has all of this at his disposal.
“Maybe. But you’re doing it wrong.” she replied, brandishing the file. He huffed an indignant response. “You just smacked the balm on without doing any of the filing or buffing repair first.”
She slid up behind him, and he had to work real hard not to tense up when she began filing at the base of his horn. Even as it burned, there was a satisfying element that crept into his ear bones and down his neck. It’d been ages since anyone tended his horns for him.
“Can I assume you'll want similar treatment?” he finally managed to grind out.
He didn’t see her smile, but her words didn’t feel cheeky or cruel. “I wouldn’t be against it.” So ridiculously, ludicrously sincere, this interaction with a Tal-Vashoth. Well...maybe she wasn't exactly Tal-Vashoth since it was her parents who had defected. But still... she was of the opinion that the Qun was wrong and... and it felt strange to be able to relax around someone like that. This sort of thing was usually reserved for people he considered closer to him... He grunted and groaned about it because he had an image to uphold. It wasn’t as if he could just sit here and get pampered, after all.
He didn’t think she wanted to try and kill him… and if she did, he was certain he could take her. But as time passed, he began to relax. His horns needed the help since he had a heavy rack. She worked deftly, and all the irritation he felt simply melted away.
Then it was her turn, and she accepted his efforts with more grace than he’d accepted hers. Conversation and all, it took the better part of an hour before they were done… The door opened not a moment after he was finished making certain Siheta’s hair was fixed without getting any balm in it.
It was Magpie, of all people! Her eyes widen fractionally before returning to their more neutral position.
“Hey… I was looking for you two. Didn’t think I’d find you together.” she said, looking between them before her eyes darted around. “I especially didn’t expect to find Bull styling Siheta’s hair.”
“What! I wasn’t—”
“Why were you looking for us?” Siheta interrupted.
..well, if she wasn’t bothered, he wouldn’t be either.
Hmph.
“They want a gathering in the map room.” She announced, her eyes staying on Siheta. “Your presence is requested.”
Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…
Summary: As dreams went, she supposed being inside Dragon Age wasn’t too bad… At least she wasn’t the Herald (again). Or the Warden (again). Or Hawke (again).
Notes: Hope you guys enjoy this one :)
First came the smell, though even that wasn’t what woke her. Not quite anyway. Her stomach echoed with a sharp pang to the smell of cooked meat, but what really woke her was the sound. The rusted creak of the door opening and closing, the subtle rattle of a utensil on a plate...soft cloth.
Her eyes pried open, thankful of the dim light. Drifting slowly to her left... her eyes landed on Sam, asleep upright in a chair. His hair was a riot, and his five o’clock shadow had transitioned into ten o’clock scruff.
She cast her gaze around the room, finally noting where the sound was coming from.
“Syra?” she whispered, leveling up on an elbow. The little servant from the kitchens with ash-blonde hair. She was high-stepping over something on the floor before Amy's guttural voice snapped those enormous blue eyes of her up front and center.
“Oh! Amy!” she whispered in a rush, half skipping to the bed. Luckily, instincts honed from long hours in the kitchen kept the plate of food she carried aloft and balanced. “oh! Amy! When we heard what happened we were so worried! Are you hungry?” this confession and question were both rushed one after the other, leaving Amy more than a little confused. There was a joke to be had about care-takers equating health, worry, and food all together... but who had the time for that?
Amy sat up, surprised at the strange union of opposites she felt. She was, at the same time, vital and waning. Weak and strong. Hungry and repulsed at the thought of food.
“I...think I should take it slow.” she determined. “Is everything else going well?”
Syra set the plate of food down on the side table and wrung her hands in her apron a bit. “As well as can be expected. I was sent to rouse Master Trevelyon… He’s had a rough time of it, but being just past eight bells...it’s time he was awake.” the girl’s eyes scattered about the room. “Not sure about your... others here though…”
“Others?”
“The elves sleepin’ on your floor.” she said, motioning towards the foot of the bed. Amy’s frown deepened as she interpreted what Syra was saying. “Shall I bring meals for them as well?”
Amy nodded. “Please do.” she tugged the blankets off, surprised to find her legs bare…. the dress she’d been given was still on, even if a touch rucked up. It hit just above her knees, so she was covered… Why would anyone remove her…
...breeches?
She suddenly wondered if Sera were nearby.
“I’ll wake everyone.” Amy promised. Syra nodded and hopped out of the room.
“Sam.” Amy called softly. He took a deep breath but barely stirred at all. Amy leaned into a standing position, staggering forward a bit before coming to the side of Sams chair. “Sammy, it’s time to wake up.” she said, combing his hair out of his face with gentle fingers.
His head tossed back a bit as he stretched, his spine arching away from the chair back before he relaxed again. Weary eyes cracked open, half-lidded from sleep. It was nothing but naked exhaustion until shock rounded his eyes.
“Amy!” he breathed.
“Morning.” she murmured, stepping away, till she was seated on the bed again. She didn’t want to perch here too long, but she didn't want to push herself either.
She winced in surprise her arms drawing up and away as Sam slid forward, landing on his knees by her bedside, his arms wrapping around her waist as he buried his face against her hip.
“Thank the Maker.” his voice was rusted, from fear or relief, Amy wasn’t sure. “Solas was livid. He kept saying things like ‘irreparable damage’ and ‘unprecedented fallout’.”
Amy let her hand rest on the curve of his head, hoping to comfort him.
“And Siheta? Bax?”
“Bax had no answers, just wide eyes. Siheta was… she tried to rally for us.”
“Solas is an excellent voice of caution. He understands that potential doesn’t always translate into something that isn’t harmful. Siheta is a comfort because she understands that something that starts bad doesn’t always stay that way.”
She felt him relax before his head snapped up. He drew back, avid gaze never leaving her face.
“You’re talking.”
She smiled. “So it would seem.”
He let out a startled breath that could’ve been a laugh.
“It’s going to be ok.” she assured, her hand drifting down to his shoulder. “Now, help me wake the others.”
She’d wanted to help but she ended up leaning over the footboard of the bed while Sam knelt to shake Tunan awake ...this began a domino effect, as Tunan shook Tunen awake, and Tunen was spooning Magpie. Amy lingered over the footboard, too afraid that once she got on the floor, she’d need help getting back up again.
Once awake, and to the point where she was aware of Amy, Magpie sprung up, nearly knocking Sam over to climb on the bed.
“You’re awake! And...better?” Magpie asked.
Amy nodded. “Sorry to trouble you.”
Magpie blinked, shaking her head in a slight double-take. “You’re...you sound great!”
“Another fantastic discovery.” she said, half leaning back against Sam’s shoulder as he docked on the side of the bed behind her. “We should let Leliana know…”
“I’m more concerned with breakfast.” Tunen grumbled, rubbing her eyes.
“That should be on the way.” Amy assured. “Why are all of you on the floor?”
“Because Maggie wouldn’t leave, and there were a lot of opinions about touching.” Tunen complained, half crawling to the other side of the bed until she could climb her way into a standing position...then...she just...toppled over like a tree that had been felled for lumber.
Her brother watched this without surprise or judgement, before rising and rolling up the abandoned bedrolls.
Luckily that was when the door opened, and a very bouncy Syra looped through. Miraculously, the multiple plates of food she carried remained undisturbed.
“Thank you, Syra.” Amy said.
“Yes.” Tunan murmured, taking a couple of plates from her. “Thank you.” he murmured before bringing it around to his sister.
“Oh, don’t mention it.”
“If it isn’t too much trouble?” Amy began.
“Yes?” Syra’s voice was eager, poised like the bands of a slingshot, ready to spring.
“If you wouldn’t mind quietly telling Leliana that I’m awake?”
Syra blinked owlishly, before leaning in and asking. “Should anyone else know?”
Amy thought about that before replying… “Perhaps...not yet.” when Syra nodded, Amy Smiled. “Thank you, dear.”
“This is exciting!” she chirped. “Happy to help.” and then she darted away.
“Kitchen staff…. they’re always hellishly busy… I almost feel bad.” Amy murmured.
“Please.” Magpie grunted around a sausage. “Any break from the kitchens is a good thing.”
Amy nodded. The Inquisition had a lot of people to feed.
“Well… Good morning, everyone.”
Amy felt Sam chuckle behind her, which was startling. It was then that she was struck by how common it had become…. that is... Sam never let anyone touch him. This prolonged contact felt shocking. She recalled the feeling of pins and needles any time Sam was very close before now… it was gone. Had this been some sort of energy from the mark? If so, how did it connect with her?
“So… you’re all better?” Sam asked, his voice hedged by uncertainty.
Amy considered the question as she considered the porridge Magpie was pushing her way.
“Getting there.” She announced at last. “A little shaky, but no bouts of overwhelming agony.”
A breath puffed Sam up and deflated him in the next second.
“So… if you’d touched the mark months ago, you would’ve been fine?”
Amy shrugged. “Impossible to say now. Maybe it would’ve killed me. Maybe I needed time to adjust...or maybe I would’ve gotten over it in the same amount of time.” she shook her head. “If what Siheta and I have discussed has taught me anything… it’s that the physical world does its best to adapt around the veil. That which doesn't adapt, changes… it’s equal parts skill, resilience, and luck.”
“But, you are feeling ok… right?” Tunan asked.
“I probably need to take it slow. Drink plenty of water and have easy foods.”
Magpie pushed a cup of water into her hands, and Amy laughed softly. She took tiny sips, then paused for any reaction from her stomach… when none came, she followed those sips with gulps. She felt the muscles in her face relax, and knew she was probably fine (even if a touch dehydrated). She still felt a little breathless, but… she would build up those reserves again.
A loud thunk clunked through the room before the door creaked open and closed again. Leliana wafted into a room of people watching Amy drink water…
“You certainly know how to keep people on the edges of their seats.” she remarked.
“Let’s hope it’s a phase.” Amy half groaned. “I won’t speak for the rest of you, but I don’t think I can take much more of this.”
Leliana’s eyebrows brose, a new light in her eyes. “You do sound much improved.”
Amy nodded. “Small favors. Our debriefing sessions have been painful on both sides, I know.”
In the time Sam had been gone to scout for Skyhold, Amy and Leliana had hidden away in her private quarters. Amy dictating information which she wrote in her own hand, and Leliana scribbling it down in the Thedosian equivalent. While Leliana never complained about this arrangement, Amy’s broken speech had been aggravating for Amy if nothing else.
“I assume today will be a day of recovery.” Leliana murmured, and she didn’t even sound resentful about it. Leliana had been accommodating in their interactions, but Amy wasn’t sure if this was because Amy had useful secrets, or because Leliana cared about Amy as a person. Still, she searched for hope.
“Yes.” Sam said, a strange firmness stiffening his tone. It reminded Amy of Conner when he tried to use ‘dad-voice™’ to convey authority.
Leliana only nodded in response. “What are your plans for the day?”
“Plans?” Sam asked, confused.
“A slow tour, I think.” Amy supplied, getting a sigh from Sam. The man’s eyes drifted closed, as he silently prayed for endurance.
“That’s 5 gold you owe me.” Magpie announced in triumph.
“That wasn’t a real bet.” Sam grumbled, still not opening his eyes.
“Would it be a real bet if you’d won?” Magpie snarked.
“Wench.”
“Children.” Amy admonished, before returning to her conversation with Leliana. “Most likely a very slow tour.”
Leliana nodded. “We should begin spreading word of your recovery. Not that it would stop everyone from working themselves into a frenzy upon seeing you.”
Amy nodded. “I imagine keeping it simple won’t curtail any flights of fantasy.”
“It hasn’t worked for me.” Sam muttered.
“Another brick in the myth of the Herald.” she bemoaned. Amy smiled, trying to accept this with as much grace as possible. “We shouldn’t begrudge them the stories they need to tell themselves in order to have hope.”
“I just wish those stories weren’t about me.” Sam groused.
“Now you know how Hawke feels.” Amy murmured. Amy felt herself tense up when Sam leaned over and embraced her. “Uh… Sammy?... I’m not wearing any breaches.” she murmured.
Sam drew back, staring at her in shock. “You’re not…. what?” He leaned forward, lifting the bottom of the blanket she was wrapped in near her ankle, revealing a very bare calf.
He looked back up at her, meeting her gaze before they both muttered, “Sera.” at almost exactly the same time.
“Perhaps now is a good time to mention that Madam Vivienne has been asking after your condition.” Leliana informed, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “It seems she’s seeing your latest escapade as a reason to provide you with new clothing.”
Amy’s eyes drifted toward the ceiling. “Thank Zod.” She murmured in a sigh of relief. Her eyes darted to Sam, who looked surprised at her words before she turned back to Leliana. “Leliana, I’m going to pose a scenario to you, because I’m uncertain exactly what I should do.”
Leliana’s eyebrows rose, but she only nodded as if to say, ‘go on’.
“Without indebting or ingratiating myself to Madame de Fer, I would like to make it clear that her counsel is appreciated in all things. That being said, I cannot stress enough how much I want her help in attaining...better clothing.”
And at that, Leliana did smile. And it was not cruel or patronizing in the slightest.
“Depending on how quickly you would like to go about this, I could send a servant with a message expressing your desire to meet with her and to inquire when she may expect to receive you.” she offered, and Amy found it a strange mixture of touching and curious. She couldn’t help but wonder why Leliana seemed so pleased to be helpful...
“Orlesians.” Sam groaned.
“Madame de Fer isn’t native to Orlais,” Amy informed. “...it’s simply the country in which she thrives.” She let out a deep breath, her eyes pinning Sam in place. “And that attitude of yours is unbecoming.” she added, sounding much like a big sister fussing at a younger brother. “It would serve you well to recall that many people make up this Inquisition. Vital, necessary people of diverse backgrounds and skills, and all of them bring….” Amy’s mouth tilted in a frown as she shrugged, “Je ne sais quoi… but they bring it to us.”
Sam blinked rapidly at her.
“What...what did you just say?” Magpie asked in the resounding stillness. “That phrase? What was it?”
“I don’t know what.” Amy responded.
“What you just said. The Genis ayqua.” Magpie clarified, or tried to.
Amy’s eyes scrunched up as she huffed little laughs around the phrase. “Free shavak ado.”
“What??” Sam's aghast cry was betrayed by the joy tugging at his lips and the light shining in his eyes. “What are you on about, you mad, mad woman?”
Leliana laughed softly with her, and the elves and Sam continued to stare between the two of them.
“We’ve lost them.” Tunan observed, his tone dull as it was blunt. He sighed, looking over at his sister, who seemed ready to fall asleep again.
Amy cleared her throat. “Sorry. ‘Je ne sais quoi’ is...” she almost said ‘French’, then thought perhaps Orlesian was a better term… but stopped herself, because she wasn’t certain about dialects or accents or...anything really. “….it means ‘I don’t know what’. It’s...My mother would say it often. Usually, to ambiguously describe a quality a person had that was just… just something, but it was unnamable.”
“Very aptly put.” Leliana murmured, still smiling, though it was more reserved than before. Still… she’d expressed more joy in Amy’s presence this morning than Amy had ever seen of her. It made Amy ...hopeful. “I will have your request sent to her, and you can most likely expect a response within the hour. She will undoubtedly send a servant with information of when she’d like to expect you, and we can go from there. Though… I don’t know if it’s entirely necessary. You are both in the same camp. Still. She will look kindly on the gesture of gentility.”
“Oh… she will.” Amy said with a nod. “I also don’t want to imply that I’m superior to her, or beneath her in any way.” Amy explained, her eyes drifting to the bedding. “This simple civility would be a way to do that.”
She didn’t see Sam rolling his eyes, still unimpressed with the Orleasian frippery.
“But…” this break in the conversation came from Magpie. “I mean, I get why you want to start moving about, but…” her face slipped into an uneasy grimace. “A full tour?”
“Oh, no. Absolutely not. I can’t walk the entire field, I don’t think.” Amy soothed, and both Magpie and Sam seemed to breathe a little easier at that admission. “I certainly don’t want to try. Cullen might just pull his hair out if I caused that much of a disruption.”
“You might be surprised.” Sam grumbled, staring absently at nothing. “He’ll most likely be in a generous mood where you’re concerned.”
Amy blinked, not entirely clear in Sam’s meaning.
“He was very worried for you, Amy.” Magpie announced. “All of the soldiers were.”
“I don’t doubt that, but that doesn’t mean…” Amy sighed. “Especially now, when I’m not sure of my limits, I think I’ll be avoiding the field until specifically summoned.”
“Safe bet.” Tunan muttered. “Where do you think you’ll need us?”
Amy looked from him to his slumped over twin. “Why don’t you two stay and sleep in on an actual bed.” Amy proposed.
Tunan’s mouth hung open slightly as he tried to think of a response. Tunen beat him to it. “I can get behind that.” her words vibrated through the blankets beneath her face as she tried to burrow under them. Amy couldn’t help but smile at the display.
“Are you sure we can’t convince you to take a bit of a lay-in as well?” Magpie nearly pleaded.
“Might take a nap later on in the day if things get rough. But… we gotta start sometime.” Amy shook her head, feeling that tightness in her chest again as she thought of everything that needed to be done. “And oh, Scooby Dooby-doo, we’ve got work to do now.”
Send one (or a few) to my muse and they’ll answer:
Spiders: Does your muse squish bugs or put them outside?
The Dark: Did your muse sleep with a nightlight as a child?
Snakes: Would your muse ever keep an unusual/exotic pet?
Blood: What’s the worst injury your muse has ever had?
Clowns: Does your muse prefer comedy? Or horror?
Mirrors: What is your muse’s least favorite thing about their appearance?
Tight Space: Does your muse ever feel that they’re not living up to their own potential?
Closet Monsters: Does your muse hide any aspects of their personality/life from others?
Crowds: What does your muse think of big cities?
Death: Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back.
Ghosts: Has your muse ever seen something they couldn’t explain?
Needles: Does your muse have a strong stomach?
Curses: Does your muse believe in good/bad luck? How about karma?
Heights: Is your muse a risk-taker?
Solitude: Name 3 things your muse couldn’t live without.
Fire: Would your muse rather be very cold, or very hot?
Failure: Has your muse ever given up on an important dream?
Abandonment: How would your muse win back someone who left them?
The Unknown: Is your muse a philosophical person?
Boogeyman: What position does your muse sleep in?
Falling: What does your muse think about falling in love or commitment?
Change: What was a turning point in your muse’s life?
Disease: What does your muse do on a sick day?
Number 13: Does your muse believe any superstitions?
Noise: Name one sound your muse finds absolutely unbearable.
Insects: Name something your muse finds gross or annoying.
Dolls: Has your muse ever collected something?
Getting Old: Would your muse rather live 50 years loved, or 200 years alone?
Social Phobia: Does your muse consider themselves an outgoing person?
Thedas Thurs: Tested~ Not sure if I’m gonna keep this up, but here’s a Thedas Thurs :3 It’s Mirriel, my Circle Surana. Also in one of my fanfics :) This photo is from her harrowing. The last words of the demon, Mouse, have always stuck with her.
I started doing Warcraft Wednesdays some time ago, and it occurs to me that I could do something similar for my other OCs. So, for the very first Thedas Thursday… here’s Crista Tabris :)
She’s a warrior that specializes in dual wield, though she can use a sword and shield as well. She’s one of the main characters in a fic I’m writing called, The Long Haul.
I love this just for the sake of having a huge AU list. I’m adding ‘Tribal AU’. Or we can just substitute ‘Ancient Egypt’ with ‘ancient culture of your choosing’.
Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…
Summary: As dreams went, she supposed being inside Dragon Age wasn’t too bad… At least she wasn’t the Herald (again). Or the Warden (again). Or Hawke (again).
Notes: Hope you guys enjoy this one :)
Amy breathed. Slow and deep as she stared down at the peer post. It was so hard to believe so much had happened so quickly. In the dawning light, it seemed so harmless.
Heavy footfalls drew her attention to her far right. A very familiar silhouette was emerging from the mist there. When the Iron Bull’s eye landed on her...her stomach sunk.
“Bull?” her voice was reedy and rusted. Reasonably so after… whatever had happened yesterday. She took a single step back.
The Iron Bull began to jog towards her.
No… not jog. Charge.
“Katoh.” she said, her voice soft, his approaching charge steamrolled over it. “Katoh, Hissrad.” a plea.
She couldn't imagine a reply from the Qun would come so quickly. There was no way they’d already decided to eliminate her…
She turned to survey her surroundings better… only to freeze.
It was dawn. Still. No one was out here. It wasn't as if everyone in Haven needed to be milling about every day at dawn, but no one?
When she looked back to Bull, the space between them was farther than it had been before.
He was still running. She had not moved from her spot by the docks. Yet he was farther away. And the sun was still just cresting the horizon.
Still.
Everything was… Still.
She turned to face him fully, planting her feet and squaring her shoulders.
“I. Said. Stop.” Her voice was loud, echoing through the valley though she hadn’t raised her voice. His pace slowed, more of a purposeful saunter now, and within scant seconds he stopped three paces from her.
It didn’t make any sense! ...it was like…
Her eyes doubled in size.
“Holy frothing frogs, I’m in the Fade.” she said.
The Iron Bull that was most certainly not The Iron Bull smiled at her. It was… unsettling. A familiar expression in a familiar face that somehow... was anything except familiar.
“What are you?” She demanded.
“Long have I circled around you, always from my side of the veil.” The Bull’s voice, but in Fade-Acoustics, so it sounded distant-echoey-and-yet-near. “From others around you, I see you. But never you… like learning to look for an absence. And I know you.”
Amy tried to stamp down her fear response, but it wasn’t easy. Every time she tried a breathing exercise she’d get caught up in the fact that she didn’t need to breathe. She literally had astral projected out of her body for this genuine Theadosian experience. She didn’t have lungs!
But her brain thought she did.
...it was the weirdest ‘The Matrix has you’ situation… at least thus far.
“Name yourself.” She commanded. She refused to call it a demon. If spirits were or could be as malleable as Solas suggested, she needed to keep a clear head.
“I am Confrontation.”
Oh.
Wait.
...what?
Was she…?
…..okay, yes.
She huffed out an astral-breath. “Seriously.” She couldn’t help the solitary chuckle that plopped out. “My first trip to the fade, first spirit I see...is Confrontation.”
Their eye narrowed. “You do not allow excuses to stop you. You refuse to be intimidated. You act in spite of opposition. And you bring others together and force them to face what is between them.” They nodded, seemingly satisfied with their assessment.
“Gawhd.” Amy grunted. “I am in the Fade.”
“Yes and no.” The spirit said. “This is more… hm.” They tilted their head. “It is difficult to explain.”
“It’s like a pocket dimension.” Siheta’s voice startled Amy, making her nearly jump away from the dock.
Siheta squatted, perched atop the dock in an easy crouch, as though she’d always been there. Her entrance felt a lot like she’d somehow figured out how to be Batman in spite of all this brightness.
“How?” Amy asked as the Kossith hopped down.
“You’re technically still not quite in the Fade.”
Amy’s eyes boggled.
“So...So, I’m dreaming and there’s a spirit,” so motioned to the Iron Confrontation. “And a dreamer is here,” and she motioned to Siheta. “And yet, I’m still not in the Fade?” Siheta smiled at her indignation.
“You’re dreaming the way you normally did before your crossing. You didn’t need the Fade there, did you?”
Amy sighed, drooping. Of course Siheta was right. She knew she was right.
“No.” she droned.
“Well, whatever happened in your crossing that sealed up your magic...it’s…” she shook her head. “It's safe to say that Sam’s mark broke through it. So now your magic is ...loose. It touches the veil in a way that we don’t.”
“Reaching out to you was not easy.” Confrontation added. “Even for those who have no magic, I can easily visit them. This required… effort.”
Amy looked between them, worry puckering her brow. “You’re...you’re not trapped here?”
“No.” Siheta assured. “Surprised at this turn of events, and smug that Solas hasn’t found his way here. But not trapped.”
“I am not trapped either.” Confrontation assured. “Only this contact required effort.”
Amy nodded, relief filtering through her. “Do you think Solas will show up here?”
“As soon as he figures out how, I imagine so.” Siheta grinned. “I’ve learned how to listen for you. And we’ve all been rather preoccupied since you fainted.”
“I fainted?” Amy demanded, appalled.
“Right into Commander Cullen’s burly arms.” Siheta whispered, as though it were some secret to cherish always, her hands coming up to rest against her heart.
“Let’s just keep that between ourselves, shall we?” Amy grumbled, face flattening at Siheta's antics.
The woman's eyes widened expressively. “I’d love to, but Varric was nearby so…”
“Fantastic.” Amy spat, the word sour in her mouth.
Siheta smirked. “Had Cullen and Sam tripping all over themselves.” She muttered, shaking her head. “It was a sight.”
“They enjoy controlling the dance.” Confrontation grumbled. “Being coy, fainting right and left to avoid what they imagine to be unpleasant.” They grinned at her. “Even incapacitated, you deny them that.”
“Alright.” Amy murmured, having enough of whatever that was.
“You could probably change this you know.” Siheta said, gesturing to their surroundings. Confrontation glared from the corner of their eye. Probably recognizing the diversionary tactic, and not appreciating it.
“I uh… I’ll just learn to crawl before I run.”
“Amy it’s you. Your head, your power, your dream.” Siheta soothed, her purple eyes kind and filled with delight. “I know, technically you aren’t a dreamer, but very few non-mages have the ability to control their dreams.”
“I know I could try it, but I’d just...rather not.”Amy said, sighing down at the ice. “At this point… I’m liable to make it look like home, and that’ll only make me more heartsick.” Siheta nodded her understanding.
“Because of your mother.” Confrontation blurted out.
Amy crossed her arms. “Yes. I miss my mother.” her voice a challenge.
“You aren’t upset because you miss her. You’re upset because you feel guilty and cheated, because you never told her that she is the measure by which you judge all women. Including yourself.”
Amy’s expression darkened. “I will punch you in your not real face if you don’t back off.” she said plainly.
Confrontation relaxed back onto their back foot. “Even when you wish to retreat, it isn’t without demanding it.” The admiration in that statement did not go unnoticed... Only, Amy wondered if that was necessarily the best thing to focus on. Was she unbearably relentless?
“I suppose you aren’t wrong.” Siheta decided with a smirk, and Amy could only pretend to glare for so long before just letting it go. “Would you like a change of topic?”
“Please?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
Amy took in a breath, letting it out slow as she tried to remember. “The doors of the chantry.”
“That tracks…” Siheta murmured. “But is this.. I mean…” She squinted, trying to figure out how to articulate her question. “This is your first dream?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
Siheta’s eyebrows rose. “I went to sleep a couple of hours ago, and you fainted not long after lunch.”
Amy’s brow puckered, not sure what that meant.
“Navigating the Dreaming isn’t easy…” Siheta shrugged as though she were trying to dismiss whatever she’d started. "You'll learn. I have faith."
“How…” Amy stopped herself, unsure of how to phrase any question as so many were demanding answers. “Ok.” She wet her lips. “How can we make it easier for Solas to get here?”
Siheta pursed her lips. “It makes sense that if the Dreaming and parts of it can enter your sphere… parts of your sphere could enter the Dreaming.”
“Uhhh…”
“I’m just thinking out loud here.” Siheta assured. “For me to get here, it was a combination of listening and feeling. Traversing here isn’t difficult when one can open portals… But could you open your own portals?” she squinted. “I don’t know. Theoretically, the answer should be yes...”
“The Fade strikes me as the sort of place one shouldn’t stumble about in.” Amy murmured.
“Such things haven’t stopped you before.”Confrontation reminded. Siheta sucked a breath between her teeth.
“You know the more I know you, the less I enjoy you.”Amy grumbled. Confrontation’s only response was one of those ‘I-call-it-as-I-see-it’ shrugs.
Siheta was still smirking at this interplay, but it wasn’t an unkind sort of smirk. Amy cleared her throat in hopes of clearing the air.
“Are you certain you want to try getting Solas here? Siheta asked.
Amy took a breath. “You really dislike him.” The statement was an observation, of course, but it was also a call for validation.
“I dislike how I feel about him.” Siheta refuted. Amy’s eyes sharpened. She wasn’t necessarily surprised to hear Siheta speak openly about feelings. She wasn’t typically the sort to cage herself, after all. “What?”
“Just...that turn of phrase. It’s peculiar to me.”
Siheta nodded. “Solas is intelligent and intuitive. He’s also much older than he seems, and that comes with a vast deal of knowledge. I respect him even when I resent him, and I don’t like that.” she shrugged. “He’s also...well, dangerous obviously. Anyone that powerful who can remain undetected is... But, there’s something shifty about him. In this world of ours, I understand wanting to remain as unremarkable as possible...but it goes beyond that with him. That makes me most uneasy. You don't do that unless you legitimately have a reason to hide.” Amy nodded that she understood, and Siheta seemed to relax. As though she’d been waiting to defend herself. “I’m not the only one who thinks it even if others don’t articulate it.”
“Magpie?”
“Magpie.” Siheta confirmed. “And Varic. And Bull to some extent.”
“Ben Hass-hole.”
“Quite.” Siheta surveyed their surroundings. “But even they’re beginning to relax around him.”
“Hm.” Amy murmured. “Without revealing too much… I don't think it’s a bad idea to be mindful of Solas. At the same time.. I’d much rather keep him close. Even at the expense of my own feelings. Because…” she shook her head. “He isn’t an automaton. He has valid thoughts and feelings. And if he's close to us, and we form strong bonds and feelings with him, there’s a chance he’ll form bonds and feelings for us as well.” she shrugged, mouth scrunching to the side. “Doesn’t mean a break won't hurt, but he’ll have all that to inform him as he moves away from us.”
Siheta’s expression was flat, grim. “Risky.” she announced before heaving a lonesome breath. “But worthy.” she finally determined with a nod.
“So…”
“Right.” Siheta took a fortifying breath. “How to invite the old sage in.” she eyed their surroundings till her eyes landed on Confrontation. The spirit had gone quiet during their discourse.
...and Amy wondered for a second how much of their presence was influencing all of this abject honesty.
“How is this affecting you?” Siheta asked, and Amy blinked, her eyes darting between Siheta and Confrontation… it was only then Amy realized that Siheta was addressing the spirit..and Amy suddenly grew concerned.
“Well enough.” Confrontation pronounced, nodding towards Amy. “This one is very concerned with keeping to herself… odd, as this space is herself.” They blinked, looking up and then around. “Honestly… I expected some friction.”
Siheta nodded, her gauging gaze assessing Amy anew. “Commendable.”
“Oi.” Amy grunted. “I’m right here.”
Siheta chuckled, taking a long moment to corral her thoughts. “So… just so we’re all on the same page now. People in Thedas live in a physical world that is next to and within a realm of Dreaming that they call the Fade. It's seperated from them only by a very flimsy barrier they call the Veil. Mages have a stronger connection to that Dreaming and use its energy to manifest effects in the physical world. To be clear, everyone lives with the Dreaming overlapping them.”
“Mages are just aware of it and connected to it.”
“Right.” Siheta confirmed. “When you arrived here, you didn’t connect and the Dreaming didn’t touch you.”
“So… I was like a vacuum?”
Siheta nodded. “A void, yes. But as time passed, I realized it wasn’t so. The Dreaming adjusted itself around you, seeping in where it could… the physical realm, of course. The rest of you, your soul, it was encased in a shell, like an egg. But I could focus on you and feel you in a similar fashion to others.” She took a deep breath. “It took pointed focus to skim that eggshell of yours, but it was possible.”
“Like a needle on an old-fashioned record player.”Amy mumbled to herself.
“If it helps the explanation, why not?” Siheta said with a shrug. “I observed many things about your unique condition, and the more often I pressed in on that shell…”
“The better you got at understanding?”
Siheta winced, suddenly contrite. “Yes...but that wasn’t without consequence. You began to sing more and more, and it became clearer that your magic manifested through your song. And as you used your gifts, they became stronger. Whether that was from, natural practice or my interference… I don’t know.”
Amy hesitated, uncertain. “...Your..?” How did Siheta ‘interfere’ exactly?
“You mentioned a needle...well, my attempts to connect through your barrier isn’t unlike pressing a glass against a door… or… a needle through the wood to peek inside. And once there were cracks, parts of your magic cloud leak out...and parts of the Dreaming could leak in.” Amy stared at her, both shocked and something…a feeling she couldn’t quite name. There was fear, and she felt small and yet amazed at the same time. It was like… seeing a storm coming, and worrying that your house might not stand against it. “There’s no way to test if that process weakened the barrier, because it’s gone now.”
Amy swallowed thickly. “...the explosion?”
Siheta nodded. “The shell is gone. Now, it’s more of a...thin gooey barrier…”
“Semipermeable membrane.”
Siheta’s eyebrows nose and she nodded slow. “Semi-Permeable… a good name for it. Things don’t just float out or drift in, but it’s much easier.” Siheta smirked. “Like your own personal veil.” She sighed, softly. “That being said, you still aren't like other mages. That will make this instruction challenging. Not impossible… just difficult.”
Amy nodded, the shock so thick she couldn’t feel crestfallen.
“It will be difficult to invite Solas here, because it’s something that can be done, but it’s advanced. Also... I know how I would do it, but I don't entirely know what would work for you.” Siheta explained. “Instead, I think I should instruct you in the basics first. It will provide you with a better foundation to build on, and you would be safer.
Amy nodded. It felt like a bit of a let-down, but it made sense.
“Besides, once Solas is here, I doubt he’ll be interested in the basics.”
Amy smirked. “You think he’d disregard that?”
Siheta shrugged. “Solas can get rather caught up in forgetting that everyone isn’t like him, and that such things are normal. He’s like a qunari that way, confused how a woman can fight or a mage could be in command.” she sighed. “A fish can teach a bird to swim, so long as it remembers that they’re different animals and maintains respect for that simple fact.”
Amy chuckled softly. “The simple often confounds the wise.” She relented, relaxing as she resigned herself to Siheta’s basic instruction. “All right. Teach me.” she said, newly determined.
Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…
Summary: As dreams went, she supposed being inside Dragon Age wasn’t too bad… At least she wasn’t the Herald (again). Or the Warden (again). Or Hawke (again).
Notes: This one is a big bang, you guys. I don’t even want to linger too much here, because it’s kind of a big deal.
As always, prompts, links, and tidbits are always available here on Striving Scribe. Hey :) if you like what I’m about and you want to help me put my cat in a sweater, you could totally follow this tumblr and heart some entries :3 That’d be cool of you.
And hey…I love you :)
Everything that had transpired beforehand seemed inconsequential.
The tedious occupation of hours, or the effort to occupy hours, the fight with Cullen and their subsequent peace, tending her horse, receiving her “order” from Seggrit, returning once to sing to the mages and the soldiers, Samuel’s return. All of it was nothing.
A sharp scream cut short, like the aftermath of an echo in a canyon and her body was rocketing across the frozen lake. She lost her breath, the wind knocked out of her as she slammed into the rock on the other side of the lake.
In that moment, aside from the warning of her scream, the valley of Haven stood still.
The soldiers still weren’t sure what had happened, and everyone held their breath as they surveyed their surroundings. It all happened so quickly, everyone was standing around, gawking and wondering why they were suddenly Charmer-less.
Amy came up for breath on her hands and knees, gasping and panting as though she’d just fought for her life. Squeezing her eyes shut, it was bright, too-too bright! She could barely hold herself up, her scalp felt as though it would rip away from her skull, as searing cold and frigid fire leaked through her flesh.
She heaved, vomiting into the snow at the base of the cliff. Once. Twice. She stopped counting after the fourth dry heave.
She tried to push away, to crawl away from the smell of bile. It hurt. Hurt so much.
Her mind was on fire, stories and memories from long ago melding and echoing inside her. Her head of her heart, it didn’t matter. Everything was Muspelheim and Niflheim.
“I must not fear.” she choked out. “Fear is the mind-killer. The little black death.” the words were surprisingly easy to say, even though her mouth felt so raw. They stampeded out, stumbling into a rushed line. “I will face my fear. I will let it pass through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
Each shift of her weight was a new agony. Her hand shot out into the clean snow, she shoved into her mouth then spat the cool water of it out. She did this with every shift, hoping to quell the fire in her throat.
Her skin was full of electric pins and needles, like experiencing an allergic reaction or feeling quickly returning to a long-dead limb… It was everywhere, the feeling was too much, and the light burnt her eyes. Everything. Everything. Everything.
Everything except the fingers of her left hand. There was no feeling there, in the offending digits that had gotten her into this atrocity.
She yelped when she felt a rope-burn on her bicep. She tried to help (or at least, she tried not to hinder), because she knew it was not a rope, only Magpie’s grip.
Magpie had sprinted for her, hauling her into the shade under the dock that was on the other side of the frozen lake. She propped Amy against one of the wooden posts.
“What was that?” Magpie asked, too scared to swear or bluster around the question.
Amy only whimpered. “The mark.” she panted. “I touched Sam’s mark.”
Amy heard rhythmic clinking, and she knew that Cullen was running towards her—knew by the sound of his armor and the smell of him… which...now that she thought about it, it was strange to know his smell when he was still so far away.
Far away.
“Sam.” Amy murmured, finally cracking her eyes open. She kept her head down, blessing the shade this rickety dock provided.
She hid herself here in the dark. She had to. She saw too much. The snow was blistering white like bone bleached in a desert. She kept her gaze down, in the ice of the lake. The dark of the deep ice was comforting. The patterns there fractured into fractals of navy, cerulean, and cobalt. Just as hypnotic as the patterns in the snow, but easier to be lost in without fear of scalding.
And she could see Sam, still sitting, dazed and delirious as he gaped into the open air.
“Siheta. Solas.” Amy said. “Get them.”
Magpie’s eyes widened and she nodded, launching herself into a full run back across the ice.
“Don’t touch her.” Amy heard her say as she passed Cullen.
Amy flung an arm around the post clinging to it in desperation. If she didn’t keep a hold of it, she would melt, melt here just outside the reach of the wretched sun only to refreeze tonight. Or within seconds. A million thoughts and a million memories coalesced and raced through her mind.
She realized, both absently and absent, that there were too many sensations to focus on. She needed to breathe properly and pull her focus. Channel herself.
Cullen was close now, and a part of her was very afraid. What had the mark done to her? Would it upset him? Would those old Templar sensitivities to magic and magic users trigger something?
She nuzzled her brow against the sturdy post, praying to gods she didn’t believe in and wondering which she could. “The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones.” she murmured to herself.
There were some monologues that stuck with her. She’d had a crush on a boy named Phillip in high school. He’d been a theater geek, proving that charisma wasn’t a dump stat. She remembered his Mark Anthony...
“When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept! Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.” She wished that she were made of “sterner stuff”. As it was, it seemed that every situation sent her into a tailspin. She could barely stand herself.
Her scalp felt so tight! Her spare hand reached for the tie that held her braid taunt and snapped it in one pull. She shook her head, the fingers of her right hand forking against her scalp, reveling in both the strange tension and the loosening—it had been ages since she’d worn her hair down!
“O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason.” she whimpered.
“Amy.” Cullen’s voice did not soothe her, though she was certain that was what he was trying for.
“Bear with me; my heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, and I must pause till it come back to me.”
It was not the response he was looking for. She heard the creak of his knees, the stretch of hide, and the brittle give of ice as he sank onto one knee next to her.
“Look at me.” He pleaded, and it hurt to hear it. Hurt to hear the fear in his voice.
“Fear is the mind-killer.” she whispered. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the shade they were in, but that wasn’t the real problem. Her focus tended to over-focus, if that was a thing.
Her eyes skittered to his, not missing his sharp intake of breath and the lean towards her as he peered into her face, but focusing intently on the irises of his eyes. She could see all the honey gold, the ochre, the tawny gilt and browns.
“I see the lion in you.” she whispered, leaning towards him as well. She was aware of his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows ticking up in surprise, but not because she was seeing it. Or was she? No. His eyes were what she was seeing.
She felt the scent of frost, heavy, burning the back of her throat, her eyes widening fractionally. “Bax.” she whispered before Bax fade stepped near the end of the dock with a wet smack and the aplomb of a raging druffalo.
“Don’t touch her.” He warned, and Amy did not so much see Cullen turning to glare at Bax as she felt it... But she did see it...or...or was aware of it? It was so difficult to process!
“Where is the stillness of wood? Of stone? Of crystal? Of metal?” Now, Amy felt as though the words were whining out of her weary throat. “All this noise. All this life. Is pain. We sense the power in this place. Power enough to destroy us. To end the pain. To be still. Again.”
Bax stared at her for a long second. “That is not as encouraging as I’d like.” he muttered under his breath.
“Sam.”
“Sam’s fine, Amy.” Bax assured, stepping closer and yet still keeping his distance. She didn’t know what he was looking for, only that he was looking at her and in a very different way than he had before. He was searching.
“No.” Amy whispered.
Sam was not fine. Sam was in shock, not medical shock but shock nonetheless. Even with Cassandra at his side, he was barely responsive, still sitting on the ice, a useless lump, like fuzz on furniture.
“Amy.” Bax’s voice was taut. “Amy, what are you doing?”
Her focus shifted, across the ice. To Sam. She needed to tell him she was alright, even if she wasn’t. That she would be fine, even if there was no certainty that it was so. They both needed to believe that.
“I have crossed the horizon to find you.” she sang. Sam, started, jerking back as he looked up at her. “I know your name.”
His eyes widened and she was suddenly very close to him, closer than she was to Cullen.
“They have stolen the heart from inside you,” she continued, aware of Cassandra springing back. “But this does not define you.” she reached forward, grasping his hand— the hand with the mark, and he didn’t snatch it away even with what had happened. Shock, most likely. “This is not who you are.” she assured him. “You know who you are.”
“...Amy?” he asked. Obviously still in shock, though Amy wasn’t sure why.
“Get away from him!” Cassandra commanded.
“Cassandra, don’t!” Sam barked back, which was probably the only thing saving Amy from a shield-bash.
“Maker’s...what in…” Varric, why and how was Varric even here? It wasn’t that the concept of him on the field was implausible, but Amy had never seen him there.
“Amy!” Bax’s voice was strained, urgent. Amy looked at him, seeing him… Seeing him under the dock across the lake.
Across the lake from where she stood beside Sam, except that she wasn’t beside Sam…
Amy’s eyes grew, suddenly surprised that she wasn’t in as much pain or having half the trouble focusing as she had been only seconds before.
“Is that you?” Cullen’s grim tone demanded to be heard. With one knee still planted on the ice, making to rise and yet still. Still deciding on which action to take, yet action was imminent in his intent.
Amy looked across the ice, because she didn’t know what he was seeing.
There, crouching near Sam on the other side of the lake, was… a figure. Even from here with her senses out of control, she could see that it was a woman, a woman made of something that was not smoke or sand or ash and yet it moved like those things, at least at its edges...it was somehow not quite solid but very present.
It was a shade of teal so dark it nearly wasn't fair to call it teal, and it appeared almost metallic in the light. The figure stood and turned, facing them... While it looked similar to Amy it wasn't quite right. The point of the nose and jaw were too sharp, the face too oval and not round enough. Cheekbones that could hurt a body.
"Mother." Amy breathed. It looked like her mother. Enough that Amy's heart ached.
"It is Amy." Bax said. "It's like... like magic, but not like our magic. It's like... a piece of Amy that's outside herself." Bax elaborated. "When I first arrived, it was like it was broiling around her incessantly clamoring, and then it began to shift when her focus shifted to Sam.
"It's ok, Sammy." the apparition soothed, though Amy was afraid that it would be anything but soothing.
Sam took in a shuddering breath, which Amy saw and heard though there was no way to explain the physics of that.
"Blessed Andraste." Amy wasn't sure who had said it, but it was one of the soldiers near Cassandra. At least she assumed he was, since Cassandra relaxed her crouch a touch and peered at the figure with more curiosity than wrath. “It’s Andraste.”
"Fear is the mind-killer." Amy murmured.
Two things occurred to her simultaneously.
Firstly, in a state of fear, she would always take comfort from her parents. Even if they could not help her, if they had no answers, if they were just as lost as she, their presence was a comfort.
Secondly, all of her efforts to distance herself from Andraste weren't going to work. It seemed to be the only way people could identify her without feeling threatened. This tied into another observation... dressing herself in their myths might be the best way to ensure her survival in a society that was taught to inherently fear magic.
“Amy, listen to me.” Baxtien ordered.
She looked at him.
“Are you in great pain?”
“It’s not as bad as before.”
He nodded. “As near as I can tell, that…” he pointed to the figure across the lake while not looking away from Amy. “that is a manifestation of your magic.”
“But how did it manifest?” Cullen asked.
“I touched Sam’s mark.” Amy said. “It exploded.”
“And it broke through the barrier that’s around your magic.” Bax breathed. “The process of the body acclimating to magic… it isn’t pleasant...at least, not always. It varies from person to person, but usually a mage’s body gradually adjusts to the magic that moves through them. The process is gradual, naturally ...well, typically. But this is...different.”
“You’re saying Amy’s magic is moving through her now.”
Bax was nodding. “When this,” he motioned to the woman on the other side of the ice. “manifested, the pain you felt wasn’t as harsh, yes?”
Amy nodded. Bax turned, looking back across the lake at the figure.
“Because you found a way to channel the magic into the physical world, outside of you.” Bax’s tone was filled with awe and a touch of speculation. It was obvious that he wasn’t sure of that, because he wasn’t sure how magic and Amy and Amy’s magic were functioning (separately or together). “But how?”
“I sang.” Amy reminded.
Bax’s eyes widened as her spun to gale at her. “Of course! Your power has always been in your voice!”
Her legs were folded awkwardly, half beneath her. Her body gave a flounce as she tried to use them, straightening one, then folding it again, before shifting her weight, utterly upright.
“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.” Amy barely recognized her own voice, it was so laden with strain. She tried to focus again, this time on what Bax was saying. If the power was loose, and her body wasn’t used to it…
Her “power” was… loose? She needed to center herself, refocus, find a way to bear up under the strain.
...the usual.
Cullen stood, still partially crouched, his hands out but at a distance. “How are we supposed to help her if we can’t touch her?” He demanded, glaring at Bax.
“It could possibly hurt her just as much to be touched as it would hurt us to touch her.” Bax countered.
She needed something….
“Did you ever know that you're my hero,” The song was soft from the pain around her eyes and the constrictions of her chest. She planted one foot on the ice, cringing as she shifted her weight onto it. “And everything I would like to be?” She took a deep breath, then swiftly drew up, in a heavy squat now but at least she was on her feet. “I can fly higher than an eagle, For you are the wind beneath my wings.”
“Up.” The tone was absolute.
Bax leapt away, ending up half behind Cullen on the other side of the dock. Amy tried to obey, but still was crouching as she leaned heavily against the post.
“That is...most unsettling.” Bax determined. Cullen now stood upright with a hand carefully placed on his sword hilt.
Another figure, this one a towering male.
“Da.” Amy breathed, weirdly comfortable with her father’s visage.
“Stand up properly.” He commanded again, and Amy took jagged steps forward, keeping her hands against the post as she straightened out, using the post to push herself into an upright position.
Again, the pain had lessened, and now her body felt as though she’d pulled or strained so many muscles. The day after a marathon, the hardest day. The day you struggled to do everything, but you made yourself, because it was the only way to get better.
“When you learn how to suffer you suffer much less.” She reminded as she stared at the wood grain. “Thich Nhat Hanh.”
“Test your joints, assess the pain.” Her father’s voice has been a fading memory, but now...it was as if there had been no separation. “What do you need to do?”
“We… we need to get back.” She said leaning forward until she could prop herself against another post. This one, farther out on the ice. She made to rise again, but even using her arms to support herself against the post, it felt impossible.
She could remember things now that she’d forgotten even before crossing over to Thedas. She remembered falling off her horse for the first time, falling off a bike, falling off the monkey bars, falling and scraping her knees…. falling, falling, falling, and the pain of those falls.
She remembered her mother’s smile and her father’s gentle hands. Her eyes landed again on the figure across the ice. Not her mother, but herself. In the visage of her mother, because she needed that. “Focus on your goal, be aware of your own physicality. Move forward.” her father’s words in her father’s voice, a memory made manifest because she needed it.
She leaned away from the post, no longer propped up. The pain was manageable, but she couldn’t lock her knees. She tested them, bending into more of a boxer’s stance. She drew her elbows tightly to her sides, her wrists rolling so that her palms were up. After a deep breath, she clenched her open hands into fists.
“Go.”
Her right arm came up in a block, the gesture automatic, breath gusting out of her.
“Again.”
This time the left arm came up while the right returned to a resting position.
“Step.”
Her right foot drew back, a better fighting stance for what she specializes in.
“Forward.”
Amy realized then that her awareness was…. different. Expanded. She had her eyes trained forward, so she could still see the figure across the lake, and the soldiers not sure what was happening or what they should do. Mages were filing through the ranks as well, approaching the frozen lake to see what was going on.
She was also aware that the figure of her father was not just beside her, urging her on, but also doing this routine with her. It shouldn’t have been shocking for a multitude of reasons. It wasn’t as if her father didn’t know these drills, after all, but of course, this wasn’t her father. It was her. Their movements were seamless because there was no ‘they’, only her.
It occurred to her then, that with enough focus… she could be aware of many things at once from many perspectives and all of them were technically hers...because her “magic” was no longer bound up inside of her.
“Flowing through all, there is balance.” she recited. “There is no peace without a passion to create. There is no passion without peace to guide.” she felt another wave of blistering cold followed by heat. She breathed through it, shifting forward again. “Knowledge stagnates without the strength to act. Power blinds without the serenity to see.” she rose, standing normally, upright. “There is freedom in life. There is purpose in death.” Her elbows returned to her side, her palms up as she breathed deeply, experiencing the pain and letting it go even while more waves built inside her. “I am the fulcrum. The giver and the taker.”
And she began to walk forward. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as hard as it had seemed moments ago.
Magie broke through the ranks with both Solas and Siheta behind. Solas scanned the situation from the masses before his eyes landed on Amy. Siheta sauntered forward, eyeing the apparition of Amy that took the form of Amy’s mother. She circled it, critically evaluating it even as she bent to help Sam into a standing position.
Amy spoke again, her words echoing in both of those metallic manifestations of her.
"My Mind is my power, my power is my Mind.” she murmured, another long-forgotten moment glaring to life. “When uncorrupted by other elements, my mind becomes my purest power."
“I think she has it… mostly.” Bax said, still somewhat behind Cullen. Cullen had risen to slowly follow Amy, though he was still at a distance. “This would be easier if…” Bax eyed Cullen for a moment before asking, “Commander, would you say that it’s better to ask for forgiveness or permission?”
Cullen halted and careened to glare back at him. “Why?”
Bax sighed. “No reason.”
Again, Amy felt the bitter sear of frost in the back of her throat, and then Bax snapped out of existence, appearing across the lake near Siheta.
“Did he just…” Cullen began before his expression boggled into confusion. “It’s impossible to fade-step that far.” he assured himself, though the evidence was dictating otherwise.
“Honestly, once you’ve created a compromising shield of warmth and you understand balanced propulsion…” Bax’s defense seemed to ebb before he shook his head. “It’s not that difficult.”
“Quite.” Siheta seconded, though her eyes remained on the apparition. It felt to Amy as though the voices were all around her...but she and Cullen still stood separate from the crowd.
“What has happened here?” Solas asked, forcing attention back to the matter at hand.
“Amy touched Sam’s mark, and when she did… There was this explosion?” Bax said and asked at the same time. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in Amy’s ability to grasp what happened, it was that he didn’t know if that was the correct term for what had happened.
“That…” Sam muttered, dazedly staring at Amy as she approached. He nodded. “That.” he finally concluded, still not able to fully engage with what had happened and was happening.
“She flew across the lake and she couldn’t stand.” Magpie was saying as Solas took measured steps forward. It was like he thought this apparition was some wild halla, and he were afraid to spook it. Or that it wasn’t a halla, but a demon, ready to lash out. “She was in a lot of pain, and she couldn’t see or do anything really, I mean, except retch up everything she’s eaten for a week.”
“All that is gold does not glitter” Now that they were this close, the three voices in tandem sounded… strange. They echoed off each other and flowed in perfect sync. “Not all those who wander are lost;” The eyes of both specters as well as Amy’s eyes bore into Solas as they said this. He froze, his eyes on the nearest—her mother.
Amy knew this could not continue. She could not divide herself this way, even if there was pain in it.
“Amy?” Cullen’s voice was soft, as though he were afraid she would spook.
“What is she doing?” Cassandra asked, stepping closer. Her eyes were on Amy now.
“The old that is strong does not wither.” She looked at the figure of her father, and he walked behind her and then into her space, and she jolted as that energy siphoned back into her body. As his form dissipated, she tried to reimagine its shape. Mostly because she wasn’t sure if she could contain this and still function. His form changed, encasing her like armor that fit like a second skin before fading entirely. “Deep roots are not reached by the frost.”
She stumbled forward, but righted herself. She panted for a second, before reminding herself of proper breathing techniques. Then, she walked. Again. She was getting close.
“These are part of her.” Bax said in a way that conveyed even he knew it was needless to explain that.
“From the ashes, a fire shall be woken,” Amy continued, her pace stilted at first before she managed to even it out into something that felt more natural. “A light from the shadows shall spring;” she was finally able to see their faces with her own eyes. “Renewed shall be blade that was broken. The crownless again shall be king.” she said, finally standing mere paces away from the image of her mother.
The face contorted in sympathy. “I wish I could be with you, my Dove.” she said.
Amy swallowed past the grief and half laughed. “You are with always me, Mother.”
With that, she extended her upturned palms. Her mother smiled, and took her hands before walking into her space. The heat that flashed through her had a frigid cold on its heels. Amy was momentarily stunned by it, until she reminded herself that she’d need to focus and determine its course.
That energy wrapped around her torso, and then branched out of her back, rooted in her shoulder blades and rib cage before arcing up into enormous wings. They gave a single flap, and Amy felt as though somehow they were holding her up, because her legs felt stiff and dead while her torso felt heavy and sluggish. She swallowed and sobbed out jagged breathes before she remembered how to breathe.
“....just like Sailor Moon.” Magpie murmured.
Amy laughed, bright and bell-like. If Sailor Moon’s transformation was this painful, that dumpling-head never would’ve done it again.
Her hands and feet felt deadened. Her knees and shoulders were on fire, but it was a pulsing warmth instead of the galvanizing sear it had been before. Her torso felt like spearmint….
“Amy?” Solas asked, hesitantly stepping forward. “Are you in control?”
Amy’s eyes popped open, startling those in front of her. The irises of her eyes were glowing, making them a vibrant teal. "My Mind is my power, my power is my Mind.” she repeated, her voice droning. “When uncorrupted by other elements, my mind becomes my purest power."
Magpie leaned up, drawing very close behind Solas. “Please fix her.” she pleaded in a stage whisper. Solas only grimace. Amy wasn’t certain if his reaction was in response to Amy’s condition or due to Magpie’s proximity to him.
“She doesn’t need to be fixed.” Siheta assured. “She just needs to adapt.” she walked forward, drawing closer to Amy’s left side. “Amy, I’m going to touch you, and you’re going to tell me how it feels.”
“Right now? In front of everyone?” This was Tunan, sarcastic as ever. In the short time that he and his sister had spent around Amy, she’d come to enjoy his biting wit.
“Ha. Ha.” Varric grumbled. “Time and place, kid.”
Siheta set her hand over the top of Amy’s head. Amy hissed a breath in.
“Tight.”
She put her hand against Amy’s cheek.
“Hot.”
Another hand on her shoulder.
“Hot again.”
She set her hand against Amy’s back, between her shoulder blades.
Amy shuddered. “Cold-cold-cold.” This continued, with Siheta proding or simply laying her hand against several spots… What was strange was that the sensations changed. A spot that had been hot on the first encounter, it was sharp or tight or cold on the next.
Siheta drew her hand back, staring at the palm of her hand.
“Anything?” Solas asked. Siheta met his eyes as she stared over Amy, then she shook her head.
“Huh.” Bax murmured. “So, it might be safe?”
“For the person who touches her? Yes.” Siheta determined. “Amy still feels the discomfort.”
Solas’s hand skimmed the air around Amy’s head and shoulders. “The magic is all around you, and yet there is little substance to it… I wonder.”
“Wonder later.” Tunan said. “Lets get her back to the chantry.”
Amy groaned. It felt like it had taken hours just to cross that lake. She took a step forward, and then another. Walking up the incline, slight as it was, was still such a chore.
Words gushed out of her mouth, to have anything to focus on except the strain on her body. “The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous."
“Easy there, Charmer.” Bull murmured, drawing back. “Any of us could carry you.”
“When I can no longer walk, you may carry me.” she replied, stopping as she reached to top of the incline. She was both shocked and reluctantly accepting of the soldiers who gawked and knelt along the way.
Past soldiers and mages alike and through Haven, she walked. Slow and stilted at first, but then smoother, gaining momentum as she began to negotiate through the pain. She stumbled after crossing the threshold, and Cullen rushed to catch her….and the pain of impact caused her to promptly blackout.
There are a lot of references in this chapter. Amy recites the Litany against Fear from Dune and the description of L-sama (by L-sama) from Slayers multiple times in this. There are also quotes from Julius Caesar, Young Justice, The Dark Tower, Thich Nhat Hanh, the Grey Jedi code, and Bilbo’s Poem to describe Aragorn. The songs Amy sang are from Moana and Bette Midler’s Wind Beneath My Wings.
Summary: After responding to an incident, members of the team are saved by an unknown metahuman. But no protocols are in place to deal with the series of unfortunate events that assail Anitia Moore. What exactly should the team do when a someone with powers needs training but doesn’t want to be a member of the team?
Author’s Notes: Happy New Year!
It was a Monday...which meant the house was pretty clean. Certain maintenance chores were done every day, but the weekends were when big-ticket items were taken care of. Anita clung to this every time she remembered that strangers in masks were in her home.
They were downstairs. The Vigilantes.
...on a gorram Monday.
It was still early, and though Mom had been informed of something happening.. Anita suspected that she hadn’t been informed of everything that had happened. She couldn’t imagine Mom not dropping everything and racing home if she knew what went down.
Anita took a fortifying breath. This was her home. She would not cower up in her bedroom, fretting about things like laundry in the boys’ rooms. She reached out and carefully took the carvings of the little purple elephant and the tiny green ram. Her fingers ran over the stones and her shoulder blades relaxed just a touch.
She closed her eyes, took another deep breath, listening to her own sounds as she tried to ground herself. She put the ram in her right pocket and the elephant in her left, shimmying her shoulders in an effort to loosen up. Then she opened the door, and descended downstairs.
She didn’t make eye contact as she went into the kitchen, but she was still aware of them. Periphery vision was a thing, after all.
She counted four of them, plus Superboy. ...fantastic.
She really wanted to stay as close to normal as she could, but she wasn’t sure how to do that other than ignoring them.
She opened the fridge, trying to keep as close to routine as possible…. that meant thinking about a meal of some sort. They had left-over spaghetti...but Travis could be so finicky about leftovers.
“Anita?”
She started, jumping away from the cover the fridge door provided and into the corner cabinet. When the fridge door closed, a very repentant Nightwing was standing there with both hands up.
“Sorry.” he said, his voice smooth.
“I uh…” Anita shook her head. “I didn’t hear you.”
“You were pretty focused.” he allowed, an easy smile on his face. “Plus, I’m fairly well trained in sneaking up on people.”
Now that she wasn’t intent on ignoring them, her eyes pinged to Robin standing just behind him. Great… Gotham Sleuths were in her house. She ground her back teeth together, her throat flexing before she asked, “Does anyone want coffee?”
“Yes.” Robin said, causing Artemis to scoff at him. “What?”
“You drink too much coffee as it is.” she muttered. “It’s already screwed up your sleep schedule, and it’ll stunt your growth.”
Anita didn’t bother examining this interaction too much as she was already focusing on making coffee. A full pot. She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted some for herself… probably just for something to stir and stare at. Also, it tasted pretty good.
...of course, now that everything was set in motion, they were just waiting for the coffee to filter through. She took a deep breath. “I don’t… I don’t really know if there’s a procedure, or…” she shrugged.
“I don’t think there are regulations for this situation.” Nightwing allowed. It was then that Anita met his eyes… or his mask. Whatever. She allowed herself to look at them, and she counted Nightwing, Robin, Superboy, Artemis, and Miss Martian in her kitchen.
Almost on instinct, her hand slipped into her pocket, and she brought out the little green ram.
“What’s that?” Superboy asked.
She shook her head. “Just Amun.”
“But...what stone is that?”
“Huh?” she looked up and realized that it was Robin who had asked. “Oh. Serpentine.” she reached into her other pocket and pulled out the purple elephant. “This one’s Ganesha. He’s made of Amethyst.”
“What are they for?”
She blinked, regarding him with slow apathy. “...they make me feel better.” perhaps more spite leaked into her tone than she’d intended.
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Anita snapped. “I hold them, and I feel better.” Anita felt irritation gnaw at her neck, her shoulder hunching up slightly. Coping mechanisms were coping mechanisms, and she hated that he was pointing out that she needed them in order to… well… Cope!
“I think Robin’s just curious as to your process. Specifically which stones do what.” Miss Martian confided.
Oh. Right.
“I ...I mean, I get that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m curious too.” she shrugged. “But I’m a little on edge right now, and I don’t have a lot of answers anyway.” Admitting that took a bit of the wind out of her. Or fire… whichever.
“You… you don’t know?” it sounded so accusatory, even the team was staring at Robin with that ‘you know what you’ve done’ expression.
Anita took another deep breath. “Those bugs of yours, are they working now?”
“They should be.”
“Should be?” Anita’s tone matched his from earlier.
“They are.” Robin said, voice more firm now. “If our comms are working, then the listening devices are as well.”
“Good.” Anita grunted. “Listen, about this...this Luthor thing?” they all seemed to stand up a touch straighter. “I think I should get this out as soon as I can.”
“I could scan your memories and set up a mental link so that we could see the memories directly.” Miss Martian offered.
Anita stared at her. “I…..ok, so. It’s nothing personal, or anything,” Anita held out a placating hand that was also a motion for every part of that idea to stop. “but I’d rather chew aluminum than do that. If it’s all the same to you.”
“Oh.” Miss Martian looked away, shrinking from the foreground of the conversation. Was that why she was here? To do...mental things?
“Does aluminum do something for you too?” Superboy asked with a smirk.
Anita regarded him with confusion before she grinned. “... I mean, yeah.”
“It does?” Artemis chuckled, surprised.
“Yes, assholes.” Anita laughed. “It does. A lot of things do.”
“What does Aluminum do?” Robin asked.
Anita shook her head. “I mean, it’s not super useful...and it’s not like I can get anything from the minuta of tin foil or anything, but… aluminum brings a sort of...kind of… like a metal sense, I guess?” she struggled to name it as it wasn’t something she really gave much thought to. “I can tell what metals are around me.” she shook her head. “It’s not super useful or anything.”
“But still cool.” Artemis announced.
“True.” Nightwing murmured. “And you are correct. We should record your account of the events that occurred with Luthor as soon as possible.”
Those words brought such somberness back into the kitchen.
Anita nodded. “I’d seen him earlier today at school.” she said. “He made a few vague threats towards my family before one of the teachers intervened.” she swallowed, remembering how Superboy came into her walk home like a wrecking ball. They probably knew that much, though. Maybe they even knew that he’d been at her school. It was hard to tell what was viable.
“Do you recall what he said?” Nightwing asked.
“Uh, he was offering me—well, Lexcorp was going to offer—but, I mean, he was there to discuss scholarship options.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “It got really weird when he managed to convince Mr. Davis to leave his own office so that he could talk to me.” she let out a long breath that she’d been breathing at an accelerated pace. “He said something about my family, saying that I couldn't rely on them forever and my mother wouldn’t be able to support me, and… that I’d want to keep them safe.” she didn’t miss the looks they exchanged, though she couldn’t decipher what they meant. “That’s when we were interrupted. I don’t think I’ve ever really sat and talked with Ms. McGuire, but I could’ve hugged her.”
“Who is she?”
“The school’s guidance counselor.” Anita said with a grin. “She just barged in there and told Luthor it was inappropriate to meet privately with a ‘female student’, and it was the school’s responsibility to guard even the ‘perceived safety’ of their students.”
Artemis’s hands settled on her hips as she leaned back slightly. “I think I like this teacher.”
“Um. When I got home, he was just here.” she jutted her chin out to the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “Strolled on over like he’d been waiting for me. I told him to say what he was going to say, because it was obvious he wasn’t going to just go away.”
Anita set Ganesha down on the counter, holding him upright and placing a single finger on the carving’s back. “He said he’d knocked communications out. I played to his ego, tried to stall. It didn’t make sense, it still doesn't.” she tried to focus on specifics without being too comprehensive.
They didn’t need to know how he held himself, or more importantly how she felt in response to his presence.
“He said an associate of his was interested in me, and he was doing damage control. Seeing if he needed to get involved.” her eyes darted back and forth rapidly.
“What is it?”
“I don’t….No. He didn’t.” she blinked. “He never used a pronoun when he referred to his associate.” she squinted. “I don’t know if it’s because this associate wanted anonymity, or if he just wanted to dick around.”
“Was that it?”
Her eyes darted to Superboy and away again. “Nothing of note. He just wanted to...I don’t know.. See what was so special about me and…”
“What?” Superboy’s query made her lose her train of thought.
“He said… ‘especially after yesterday’. I asked if he knew the man in the masks, and he said at first ‘he’s with me’ and then later that he knew him or was aware of him via associates.” Anita blinked. “I mean, Luthor’s a big fish, so the likelihood of ‘the associate’ that’s interested in me being the same one who knows the man in the masks is… probably low.”
“What exactly did Luthor say?” Nightwing asked.
“I asked if the asshole in the masks was with him, and he said yes, and then he elaborated that he was aware of him through, but he started looking for a word and I suggested the term ‘associates’ and he agreed that he knew him via associates.”
Anita stared at them as they all looked between each other. Of course, what she didn't know is that Miss Martian was facilitating a mental conversation between them, one that she was not privy to.
“Uh.” she cleared her throat, looking at Superboy. “You said someone was going to be… uh, telling my mom what was going on.”
Of course, that wasn’t true. Superboy hadn’t told her anything, she’d overheard Robin say it over the comms to Superboy. She also heard that it was Kid Flash who was doing this...which meant, it should’ve been done quickly.
“I said that.” Robin corrected, and a part of her felt relieved. Not that he was correcting her, but that he was willing to be truthful about the situation. “Kid Flash went to explain the situation to your mother, but Superman was already there talking with her.”
“Huh…” Anita murmured, somewhat amused by Superboy’s shift.
He scratched his nose trying to hide his smirk. ‘Like father, like son’ was the first thing that came to Anita’s mind.
“Is something the matter?”
“Uh… Well. I mean, that was… at least, it feels like that was a while ago, and I guess I expected something in the way of response… Considering it was Kid Flash that was getting it done… I guess I thought it’d be a quick response.”
That got quite a few grins.
“Not for lack of trying.” Miss Martian muttered. “Unfortunately, Superman has him pinned there.” she said. “The adults are talking, but they want him to run messages when they finally make a decision.”
Anita’s expression slid into neutral as she absorbed this. She wasn’t sure why, but she had expected something else. This was… anticlimactic?
“Hm.” was all she said in response. Did she even need to fix dinner, or was this just another waste of energy? It didn’t matter what she decided to do if the adults were the ones making the decisions.
“Hey, are you ok?” Artemis’s question snapped her attention back into the here and now.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” she said with a shrug. She took a deep breath. “I think I’m...just gonna watch Netflix or something.” she murmured, pouring out some coffee for herself. “Help yourselves to coffee.” she said, leaving the cabinet that held the coffee mugs open. The cream and sugar were in there too, so it wasn’t like they’d need further direction.
Summary: After responding to an incident, members of the team are saved by an unknown metahuman. But no protocols are in place to deal with the series of unfortunate events that assail Anitia Moore. What exactly should the team do when a someone with powers needs training but doesn’t want to be a member of the team?
Author’s Notes: Hey, guys. It's been forever. I'm just gonna leave this here. I hope you like it :)
Conner had to cross two streets before he finally got a signal on his comm. “Conner here. Robin? You there?”
“Reading you loud and clear. How is she?”
“Shaken and stirred, I bet.” Conner smirked at Artemis’s quip.
“She’s managing, but it isn’t easy.”
“I just got word that Superman is talking options with her mom.” Robin informs and Conner’s brow jumped up and he huffed out a self-depreciating laugh… what are the odds?
“Why’s your signal two streets over?” Artemis asked.
“Couldn’t raise you. Took a bit of a jog to get a signal through.”
The pause that followed gave the three of them a moment to think.
“Is that supposed to happen?” Artemis is always happy to point out the obvious.
“No.” Robin replies, and Conner can almost imagine the sound of the keyboard keys clacking.
“Could it be her?”
“How do you mean?” Artemis asked.
“She was in pain, something about the lead affecting her. She walked funny too, dragging her feet a bit. Nothing terribly out of the ordinary, but I got the impression there are physical side effects from her abilities.” His words hault, as he considers how much he should say.
He wasn’t just wasn’t sure how much she would want to keep confidential. But these were his observations, so that was safe… Still, should he divulge more? Would they need more to make a decision properly?
“The house has been quiet through the morning. The transcript is still running. I didn’t suspect anything, considering that it’s supposed to be quiet, but something’s jamming the signal.”
“Did she mention anything about it?” Artemis probed.
“Did she mention specifically being able to jam comms?” Robin clarified, choosing to focus on the more troubling matter at hand. “They were working properly up until a few minutes ago. Unless she managed to acquire new abilities this morning.”
“She’s...less than forthcoming.”
“Still?”
“Still.”
Conner looked back towards the Moore house. Everything seemed quiet.
“Maybe you should go and check it out, Conner.” Artemis suggested. “Just to be safe.” she waited, and her only response was silence. “Conner?” she ground her back teeth together. Slowly Artemis started nodding her head. “He’s already on his way, isn’t he?”
“His com just went offline again.” Tim informed as he watched the signal disappear from the map readout.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Anita stares at Luthor and the woman just behind him in apathetic shock. There are so many emotions bottlenecked in her throat that she can’t process a single one of them… Her brain has become a chamber of echoes.
She’s used to peculiarity. When you have to deal with younger siblings and superpowers on a regular basis, the absurd happens often.
But she is a rational, orderly-type person. Everything has its place...every thing, every person, every practice, every thought. Everything in. its. place.
Home is safe (just like baseball). Safe and for safe things.
Her eyes drift to the far wall and her mother’s ancient bureau.
“And then God said, ‘Let’s cook this day fuck-side up’, and it was so.” she murmurs to herself before sloughing off her backpack. It isn’t supposed to go in the chair by the door, but today appears to be that sort of day.
A startled almost begrudging laugh echoed form Luthor. Vile intruder that he is. He would be amused at her suffering.
“Our conversation is not over.” he announced, as though his appearance were magnanimous and for her benefit. “And I will not be denied.” ah. There was the edge she expected from a rational sociopath.
Psychopath?
Sociopath?
...she could debate later.
Anita tugged off her shoes, because she was in her own goddamn house and she’d chew aluminum before any outsider told her she couldn’t do what she wanted in her house.
“Suppose I should let you speak your piece.” she muttered. “You’ve made it clear that you have no intention of being discarded.”
He smiled. “At last we understand each other.”
She was so frustrated with this situation, but there was a strange… braking point. It wasn’t that she was unhinged, but she felt so detached from her own circumstances.
She knew she couldn’t fight her way away from Luthor. It would be foolish to try. This was a man of intelligence, at least that’s what he told himself. His ability to be prolific in his circle of influence was due largely to outplaying his adversaries. Even Superboy had said that he owned most of the city...and probably a lot of other places too. If Metropolis were a chess board, it would be hard to find a single square that Luthor couldn’t get to.
Her mind latched onto another thought. It was simple, even if utterly absurd. Bring him into an arena in which she isn’t powerless. There was a place in this very house where she was the master of the universe…. the table where she would play dungeon master for her brothers and their friends. If she could be that person, the one who created the world around him instead of allowing him to have his own control...maybe she could at least stall him.
...or maybe she was fooling herself, and this was nothing more than an elaborate comfort mechanism. Either way, it was something.
“We do not, sir. We do not at all.” Anita grumbled, walking to the center of the living room. “It isn’t uncommon for a man to chase after something he wants, but most of those wants are tied to reason. Only a madman chases things that are unequal to his efforts.….a madman or a fool, and you are not either.” she allowed her eyes to drift as she thought about this. “There can be no reason equal to these actions. There’s no need to waste water on tears while you’re in the desert.” his eyes narrowed as he surveyed her. “This is trespassing, breaking and entering, and harassment. Even if the charges wouldn’t ever see a courtroom... you can’t deny that it makes a man of your situation look bad.” She half scoffed, “Chasing a teenage girl this way.”
“I am not concerned with my appearance.”
“Oh, I think you are.”Anita countered, her eyes widening expressively. “These actions coil of ego. And I cannot fathom how I have any worth in comparison.” she plants her feet shoulder width apart, an easy act as her ankles still feel weighted. “It’s illogical. You are no small fish. Yet you remain. What could possibly be worth your time, crowding in my little pond?”
“I am flattered by your estimation of me.” he said. He seemed so at home in a space that wasn’t for him. It would be unsettling, but Anita forced herself still and chanted mentally to play to his ego as often as she could without it being too obvious. “This is my assistant. Mercy.” The woman stepped forward and nodded.
“How ironic.” Anita drawled with a smile of her own.
Again, Luthor chuckled. “I didn’t realize you were entertaining as well as intelligent.”
“You aren’t here to comment on things I already know.”
“I assure you, I am no adversary of yours.” his words sound so genial, and yet there is no assurance in his assurances. “Not yet.” And there he went, insinuating that edge into the conversation. “I have disabled the listening devices planted in your home so that we might speak privately. I’m sure it’s knocked out long-distance communications as well.”
Anita’s mind hummed as she processed this. Jamming frequency. Listening devices. Long-range communications. What for? Privacy? An attack of opportunity? He had to know she was being monitored….
Of course, now she realized how invasive that monitoring had been. The listening devices were in her home.
“No idea how long it’ll take them to realize.” she murmured. “You’d better say what you need to say.” she walked past him into the kitchen. “Coffee?” that’s something adults do, right?
“No, thank you.” he responded, eyeing her as she sat at the table. “As to my intent…. A recent associate of mine seems to consider you in high regard.”
“Associate.” She sat back in her chair, forcing her spine to relax against the chair back.
“I would be more forthcoming if I could.” Luthor admitted. “However, stipulations were made in our alliance, and they are centered on you. Of course, like any good businessman, I had to investigate this oddity. Know your enemy, know yourself; all that.”
“That’s reasonable.” she allowed. She’s honestly more concerned with the comment about knowing your enemy. “In this scenario, when you say ‘enemy’... are you referring to me, or…?” he laughed, interrupting her question, and she nodded feeling reassured. “This mysterious associate then.”
“After yesterday’s debacle, I think we can confirm that said attentions are not entirely unfounded.” Luthor said, meandering slowly back into the kitchen and sitting across from her. Mercy remained standing, just behind him and slightly in the doorway between rooms.
Anita’s eyes narrowed slightly.
So. He did know about the incident on the bridge… but how?
“I didn’t realize you had any hand in that Metro-Narrows fiasco.” she said, and he smirked.
“I...can neither confirm nor deny—”
“It’s a little late for disclaimers.” Anita grumbled. “Besides, with the communications disabled, it’s not like you’ll have to worry about incriminating evidence.”
“True, but you could tell anyone you liked.” she watched his throat flex in a very firm swallow. “Perhaps someone who regularly sports an over-embellished S on his chest.”
Anita snorted. “The likelihood of me remaining on close terms with people I regularly push away hardly seems a decent fear. Not to mention, their knowing one way or the other wouldn’t be of any inconvenience to someone like yourself.” That’s it. Play to that ego. She eyed the tablecloth, absently wondering why gingham was a pattern her mother loved so much. “That asshole in the masks was with you?”
Now his smirk unfurled into a full grin.
“Yes. The ‘asshole in the masks’ is ‘with me’.” he says... Something about him seems more relaxed now. “At least, I am aware of his activities via….” he paused, taking and releasing a breath as he searched for the right word.
“Associates?”
He smirks again. “Yes. Associates.”
“Hm.” she murmurs, still staring at the tablecloth. “Tangled web.” her absent words aren’t really meant for anyone. Her eyes snap up, fixating on his tie. “So you’re here…. to see me with your own eyes?”
“It’s best we meet now, before you’re steeped in whatever dogma the League will stew you in.” he countered, leaning his elbows forward and folding his hands under his chin.
So.. He isn’t just here to see her, see who she is… He’s also here to find out if she’s a threat, and see if he can secure an in.
Her eyebrows tick up, there’s a level of annoyance and suspicion evoked from those words. For both of them, it seems. She reminds herself to remain calm.
Well. First, she needs to keep herself safe.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I have no desire to festoon myself in spandex and “fight” crime.” she announced, using air brackets for added emphasis on the word ‘fight’. “All I want is peace.”
“You wanted more than peace yesterday.” He reminds.
“I suppose allowing Superboy to die would have been giving him a type of peace, but… the way of the grave is less than satisfying.” Again, his eyes narrow at her words.
“Well.” Luthor sat back in his chair, eyeing her. “What I want you to consider then, is this. Do you honestly think the Justice League will allow you the peace you so crave?”
“Why should they not?”
“I believe my presence alone will prompt immediate action on their part.” He announces.
Now it’s Anita’s turn to regard him with narrowed eyes. They wandered to the far wall.
“Sir.” Mercy interrupts. “Superboy appears to be circling the house.”
“How wide a radius?”
“He’s observing from other yards.”
“Hm.” Luthor smirked. “It won’t take him long to close in. My boy is not the brightest, but he learned caution well enough.” Anita blinks, her eyebrows lift and her eyes dart back to Luthor in surprise. “Ah, I imagine he prefers not to discuss his parentage with errant damsels.” Lex said, in a way that’s so patronizing and yet fond...he almost seems like an indulgent parent.
It’s bothersome because she isn’t certain where those feelings are truly aimed. It seems… just… there. But for all Anita knows, he could feel them for her or Superboy… what a psycho.
“I’m a millennial, Mr. Luthor.” Anita reminded. “If there’s one creed we adhere to, it’s not judging someone for their circumstances.” Lex huffed out another laugh. “Everyone has their own sword of Damocles….” Anita admitted, almost an aside to herself. “..and genetics don’t matter until they do.”
“And who decides when genetics matter?” Luthor asked, his words as sharp as his focus.
“That’s a philosophical question I haven't the time for. I imagine you don’t have the time for it either.” she muttered with a shrug. “It’s enough to know that everyone decides when and how much genetics matter to them as it suits them. Do they matter to you?”
Lex pondered this for a second before a smile curls at his lips. “Are you...stalling me?”
“I confess, we’ve had quite the conversation, but I still don’t know what you want.” she says, crossing her arms. “I suggest you make your closing statements simple. It would be a shame to be….” she pauses, huffing out a tiny laugh. “...interrupted.”
Lex actually laughed again. “Then I suppose it is lucky that my message is relatively basic. I only want to convey that you have options that don’t begin and end with the League. Their pomp and circumstance are hardly the ways of peace you seem so eager to embrace.”
Three knocks at the front door, hard, heavy, and unrelenting. “Anita?” Superboy, his voice as urgent as the knocks on the door. It is so strange to hear him call her name…
“Back door’s open.” Anita’s tone doesn’t slip any higher than a typical conversational tone, but she knows he can hear her. “This ‘associate’ of yours. You never mentioned exactly what ‘they’ wanted.”
“Unfortunate then, that our time is up.” Luthor murmured.
“Well played, or it would be if that were enough to tempt me to initiate or maintain contact.”
Luthor takes merely a second to weigh his options. “My associate wants ….anonymity.” his eyebrows jump and his eyes roll. “There’s a question as to how effective that demand will be, considering the absurdity of it.”
The back door swung open, and Superboy stopped only to glare at Luthor. Mercy’s posture became tense, as she stepped into the kitchen.
“Luthor.” Superboy growled. Anita was momentarily distracted by the change in his posture. This is the boy who’d ambled beside her down the street, slouching with his hands in his pockets? Now… His shoulders seem… loaded. Not hunched, but more imposing. His neck was almost bent forward, almost as if in preparation for a luge.
“Hello, son.”
Superboy actually bared his teeth. “I don’t care what you’re doing here. Get out.”
Luthor’s eyes almost softened, though only by a fraction. Then he looks back to Anita. “Is that what you would prefer?”
Anita takes a deep breath through her nose, somewhat surprised that she was being consulted… The man with the devil’s smile was most concerned with being courteous now? After insinuating himself into her safe space….. the cheek.
“As fascinating as this conversation has been—and trust me, it truly has been—I would prefer my mother’s house to remain unscathed.” she said.
Luthor nods, rising slowly. “Please, consider our conversation carefully.” he advised in closing.
“Thank you for your time.” she responded, and it felt almost cordial, if not for how automated it sounded. He gave her one last smirk, and she hoped that means he found her curious or amusing.
He strolled to the front door, Mercy hovering just behind(again, the most ironic name. It’s almost poetic ‘Mercy strolls in Luthor’s Shadow’, or something like that). She eyed Superboy as the front door was opened, only returning to Luthor’s side once he’d passed through the portal.
Superboy relaxed when the door was shut, only to start in surprise when Anita’s chair scraped out a foghorn sound as she pushed it away from the table. She half collapsed onto her knees, slithering into a heap beneath the table.
“Anita.” he murmured, crouching down to check on her.
“We have to stop meeting like this.” she whispered, but her breathing was off. She drew air in and held it for what felt like long seconds at a time.
He realized that she was counting out how long the process takes for each part. The taking of breath, the holding, and the releasing. A simple coping mechanism, not a health hazard.
“Superboy, come in.” The comm was loud in the stillness. Even Anita could hear it.
“Superboy here.”
“Finally.” Robin’s voice was a breath of relief. “We’re closing in on your location.”
“We?”
“Impul—uh..Kid Flash, Artemis, and I.” after a second he half muttered. “The computers run themselves, after all.”
“Status report?” this came from Artemis.
“Luthor was here, but he’s gone.”
“Damn. What did he do?”
“Other than knocking out the comms and having a chat?” Anita muttered, massaging her temples. “You put bugs in my house?”
“Listening devices.” Superboy admitted. “And just two of them, to keep an eye on things.”
“To keep an ear on things.” Anita corrected, her shoulder leaning heavily against the table leg as she pitched forward. “And not very well, it seems.”
“Is she really mad that we spied on her?” Artemis grumbled over the comms.
“Am I angry that you violated my civil liberties?” Anita clarified, and Superboy had to wonder how keen her hearing was. “No. I’m angry that you did so, and it didn’t do a goddamn bit of good.”
“Here.” Conner offered her a hand, and she stared at it and then at him. He watched as she contemplated this, her hands coming up to grip the table leg and not his offer of help.
“Could you just… turn around?” she asked, and he complied because… well.
Many people could lecture her on relying on the help of others, but he had been in that place. The spot where you’re confused and you feel shaky, and you just want to find your footing all on your own… and you don’t want anyone to see the struggle. He’d definitely been there.
“I’ll open the front door.”
He doesn’t see her nod, because he knows better than to watch her as she processes and recovers.
“I’m sending Kid Flash to deliver a message to the mother.” Robin announced over the comm. “It’s as good as alerting the League, since Superman is there.”
Anita heard that, and something about it gave her pause. She was suspended in a strange headspace, anxiety hovering there with her. She took a breath, and reminded herself that she couldn’t remain idle. Things needed to be done. She walked through the kitchen doorway and into the living room.
“How much time do we have?” she asked, and Superboy finally turned to look back at her.
“Not much.”
She nodded but was avoiding direct eye contact.
Her eyes landed on the chair near the door. Her hand shot out, snatching her backpack up onto her shoulder. As she was trotting up the stairs to her room, he heard her mutter, “Come at me.”
...it didn’t sound confrontational, so much as motivational.
Summary: After responding to an incident, members of the team are saved by an unknown metahuman. But no protocols are in place to deal with the series of unfortunate events that assail Anitia Moore. What exactly should the team do when a someone with powers needs training but doesn’t want to be a member of the team?
Author’s Notes: This chapter goes to all the introverted girls that wanna go home and decompress.
PS: Sorry for the chapter title :| would you look at that, my soc major is showing.
Please do enjooooy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sharon Moore trudged upstairs to her office, robotically calling hello to her employees as she passed them. She needed to finalize next week’s schedule, double check the status of deliveries, and most importantly… not think about how all her contingency plans weren’t going to be much good against someone like Batman.
She practically collapsed in her office chair, glaring blandly at the computer as she turned it on. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the light, or the lack thereof. She looked at the curtains, reminding herself that vitamin D was important.
She took a deep breath, rising and plodding over to the window. She drew back the curtains and froze.
….she did not have the tools for this.
“Hello, Ma’am.” Superman said, floating not far from the window.
She closed the curtains and held them there.
….of the times that Sharon imagined a scenario in which a man would be conversing with her from a second story window, encounters with superhumans had never been on the billing. Of course, all those daydreams had been when she was much younger and had fanciful notions of romance.
“I don’t mean to alarm you, Ma’am, but I can still see you.” He said from the other side of the notably flimsy barrier.
No use in hiding.
She tossed open the curtains and opened the window. “Exactly what are you doing here?” she demanded, through the screen.
“I wanted to thank you…. You’ve raised a fine young lady.” His sincerity was palpable, and Sharon almost wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. She wanted to be angry at him… but…
He was Superman…. Damn pseudo-fascist iconography and the heartstrings it tugged at.
She hung her head. “Would you… like to come inside?”
It was a surprisingly easy process, letting Superman into the upper floor of the Bakery unseen. They did, after all, have a fire escape up there. It was still peculiar to see him sitting on the dark teal sofa in her office…
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked, not at all certain what exactly she should be doing.
“No, thank you.” Again, Sharon was really conflicted. He was being… so polite. “You seem at a loss.” Oh. Great. He noticed. Of course.
She let out a little laugh. “I…” she eased into her office chair. “I don’t know why you’re here.” she said at last.
“I told you, I wanted to thank you. Your daughter saved my boy…” he smiled, looking a little chagrin. “Also… Batman can be a little ...intimidating. If perhaps, you were in need of anything, I could see why you might hesitate to contact him.”
“We’re fine.” Sharon said, wincing at how defensive she sounded.
Superman leaned forward slightly. “There’s no shame in admitting it.”
“Admitting what?”
“That you have a child with unique needs.”
“All children have unique needs.” She argued.
“Your child is not like most children.” Superman reminded, as if she needed to remember it. “I’m not trying to trap you or make you feel guilty.” he assured. “Anita’s circumstances have been brought before the league.” his words made her tense up. She could barely handle Batman, and here was Superman talking about the league. “We’re all very impressed with your home.”
Sharon blinked at him, feeling dazed and disconnected.
“Your daughter…. her reality is far from normal. But that’s never stopped you from trying to give her that. You’ve given her a safe environment where who she is doesn’t suffer from what she is.” He smiled sympathetically. “It cannot have been easy.”
Breathy little laughs huffed out of her, and she felt her defenses crumble entirely. “I have never had the tools for any of this.” this admission is not an easy one, but it’s always accompanied with a resilient truth. “That’s no excuse. Not when she needs me.”
“Sharon.” his voice was so clear and certain. “You do not have to do this alone.”
Sharon steeled herself, because she could not, would not cry...in front of Superman.
She took a deep breath. “What…” she clenched her teeth. “I suppose I know why the league would be interested in her. What I don’t understand is what you’re so worried about.” Sharon squinted at him, studying his expression. “She hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s done the best she could with what she’s had. What do you foresee happening that has you so eager to offer help?”
“I honestly don’t understand why we wouldn’t offer help.” Superman countered. “It’s fairly obvious that Anita’s abilities aren’t something that she understands entirely. If we can help her understand that, we can help her find a safe place in her own society instead of trying to hide from it the way that she does now.”
Sharon frowned, her eyes downcast. She… she had taught Anita to be cautious, yes… what if that caution just led to her daughter into being afraid of the world? She thought of Anita’s habits and tendencies. Had she taught Anita that she couldn’t live her life?
Her eyes rounded as cold dread seeped into her gut. All of Anita’s tendencies were bent towards restraint, stiflingly so… Had she taught her daughter to be afraid of herself?
“We… we don’t have a lot of options… do we?” she realizes, woodenly staring at her own hands.
“Your choices aren’t as limited as you think.” Superman assured. “Either way, you’ll have support.”
Sharon considers this quietly before clearing her throat and determining, “Well… I have a feeling, I’ll be having a more in-depth conversation with Anita soon.” she sighed, sitting back against the chair back. “She’ll want to hide away in what’s familiar, but…” Sharon shook her head, propping an elbow on the desk and placing her hand against her temple for support. “..I just don’t know if that will continue to work for her.” Superman nodded. “I just… I don’t know…” she wavered, not certain how to voice her thoughts. “I don’t know what options she has.” she said at last.
Superman smiles. “Perhaps… I will have that cup of coffee.” he says. “And we can talk about possibilities.”
Sharon laughs a little when she realizes that even she hasn’t had a cup of coffee yet. The morning had been so robotic, she’d simply forgotten. Coffee sounded like salvation right about now.
Of all mornings, this was the one in which Sharon Moore had left her phone ‘Do not Disturb’ feature on…. no alerts came when Anita sent her texts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Anita is fast and very coordinated. After darting into the alleyway, she finds and alcove and presses herself against the corner, flattening herself against the stonework of the building. At the moment, she’s out of line of sight from the street.
She almost laughs at herself, because all she can think is the ‘It can’t see me if I don’t move’ line.
She holds her breath when she hears heavy footfalls...boots. The sound draws closer, slowly edging near her little corner, until it stops.
“Hey.” the statement, question, greeting, whatever? It’s Superboy, because of course it is. He’s just… leaning back against the opposite side of the corner that she’s pressed against.
Fuck.
“Hey.” she says back.
“You alright?” he asks.
She nods, swallowing thickly before retorting, “I’m hiding in an alleyway from Superboy, so… you know. I have been happier.” He lets out a little snort of a laugh, which somehow eases her. “You?”
“Not that great either, actually.”
She blinks, focusing on him and letting the noise around them fade.. his breathing is labored. She swings away from the wall, peeking around the corner at him. He looks… worn out? Fatigued or something, maybe.
Her eyes widen and she vaults herself across the alleyway, nearly colliding with the business corner of a dumpster. “Shit.” she hisses. “My eyes are still green.”
He blinks at her, tracking her movements before squinting at her eyes. “Are they not supposed to be?”
She shook her head. “I have light brown eyes.” she muttered, still stepping backwards to put distance between them. “Unless…”
His eyes rounded, his eyebrows hiking up in realization. “Unless you absorb something like kryptonite?”
“Shit.” she seethes at no one in particular. Really just the situation. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“Wait.” he says, making to follow her.
“Are you mental?” She growls at him. “I’m literally radioactive right now.”
“Yeah, but…” he shrugs. “It’s not as bad as it was.” he admits. It’s true… he can stand and walk and talk and breathe. So it’s not bad. He still nauseous and he’s beginning to get a pounding headache… but he can cope with it. “Why is that?”
She opens her mouth and then freezes, her teeth clicking together when she snaps her jaw shut. She crosses her arms tightly, and mutters. “Go away.” before turning and jogging in the opposite direction.
“Yeah, fat chance.” he grumbles, jogging after her. His step falters after the first few, but he persists, unwilling to lose sight of her now.
She hears him and turns, hopping backward a bit. “What are you even doing ?”
“I’m staying with you.”
“You don’t make any sense!” she squeaked. “I’m a pox, and you’re going to chase after me??”
“We heard about Luthor.” He says, and she stops. She stares at him, completely inert.
“You heard about Luthor.” she repeats, her tone dull.
“He’s dangerous.”
“I didn’t need superpowers to know that.” she says in that same dull tone. “But why were you…” her eyes narrowed. “Are you watching me?”
His head lulled to the side a bit, his eyes sharpening as his lips thinned. It was a great, ‘really? that’s what worries you?’ expression.
“Of course we’re watching you.” he says in such a dismissive fashion that she feels a little foolish. Or she would if she wasn’t utterly terrified. “What did he say to you?”
Anita stared at him as she tried to process the question. She felt so numb, it was hard to understand works and make them.
“I..” she swallowed. “Some… bullshit about scholarships and…” her eyes drifted, though she certainly didn’t see anything.
“What?” Superboy asked, taking another step closer.
Anita put her hand out and backed up till she felt the brings of the wall behind her. Superboy, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, and not wanting to be uncomfortable, backed up till he was standing against the opposite side of the alley. Distance did lessen the severity of the symptoms.
“I think… I think he threatened me.” she said, processing the situation and the words he’d said. In retrospect, there was a thinly veiled threat in there. “He talked about my mother and brothers, and ...and said I’d want to keep them safe.”
She suddenly felt like she couldn't get enough air, and the weight that had bothered her in her ankles felt too heavy.
“Oh God…” she reached for her bracelet. Filtering the beads through her fingers, rolling them and then letting them fall before moving to the next set in line.
“Breathe.” Superboy coached, and it was surprisingly comforting to have him here. “You’re safe.”
“But they--”
“They are safe too.” he interjects, in hopes that it quickly quells her panic. “We’re keeping tabs on your family.” He said this without really knowing if it was true. It was more a sense that Robin would probably have something like that in place. Her distraction allowed him to draw closer, her usual misgivings about their proximity a dull memory.
“How..” Anita croaked before shaking her head. So many questions and she had no idea how to find answers...much less what she should do once she got those answers.
“Anita.” He says her name, and she freezes. “That’s your name, right?” she nodded woodenly. He holds out a hand, as if for a handshake. “I’m Connor.” she winces back from him.
“You shouldn’t…”
“It’ll be ok. Trust me.”
She eyes him and then his hand before timidly reaching forward to take it. She watches him, critically eyeing their point of contact before taking his reaction. Conner doesn’t feel that much worse, really. It’s just like standing next to her; a headache, upset stomach, there’s a faint sensation of cotton stuffed in his ears….sound seemed duller... but, it’s all manageable.
“Nice to finally meet you.” he said, and she laughed nervously. He lets go, and though she doesn’t feel threatened, Anita still presses herself against the brick behind her. It’s less about him and more about the need to feel grounded. She had her breathing back under control, at least. “You were going home, right?”
She swallows hard. “Yeah… It was that or the bakery, and...I really don’t want to be underfoot right now.”
He nods. “Then here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to accompany you home, just to be safe. When you get there, you can call your mom, assuming someone from the team isn’t already doing that. I’ll keep watch outside your house.”
“What??” she asked, trying to draw back, but he keeps his hold on her.
“Just to be safe. Besides, if I’m outside and you’re inside, I probably won’t feel the effects of the kryptonite.”
She takes a deep breath. “There’s really no point in trying to deny it, is there?” He doesn’t comment, aside from a wry smile. “You really don’t have to stay, though. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I’ll touch base with the team before I move on.” he concludes. She nods, and starts walking. He falls into step beside her.
“Are you...wearing your shirt inside-out?”
He shrugs. “Believe it or not, it’s usually enough for most people to not notice me at all.”
“...huh.” is her only response.
They walked in silence for a few blocks before Superboy said. “So...this thing you do with rocks…”
She huffed out a heavy breath, but otherwise there was no response.
“uh...How’s that work?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know how it happens, just that it does happen.” her tone is dull but unresisting. Her voice is hushed, as if she’s afraid to be overheard. Superboy eyes her, wondering how forthcoming she’ll be if he keeps asking.
“You just...what? Suck up things from them?”
“I…” she sighs heavily, shaking her head. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“You’ll have to eventually, you know.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to right this second.” She grumbled. “Or that I have to tell you anything.”
“You always this chipper?” Superboy asked.
She smirked, and while there was plenty of derision in her posture...the expression wasn’t entirely a sarcastic. “Can’t be helped. I’m having such a good day.” she stops at a crosswalk, hunching her shoulders in a downward arc, her arms crossed over her belly as she damn near folded her torso in half.
“Uh… you ok?” he said, wincing at the ineptitude of those words. Of course she wasn’t, and he feels like an ass for mentioning her struggle at all… but...how else can he figure out what’s going on, unless he asks?
Her face settled in a pout before she grumbled. “Lead is a bitch.”
He half snorted. “Tell me about it....but...I mean.. wait, what?”
She groaned. “On the kryptonite necklace. There was lead.” she reminded. “Why lead, anyway? It’s not a decorative metal. It’s even poisonous to normal people.” she lurched forward when the walk sign lit up. “It kills my stomach.”
“You feel the lead ...in your stomach?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s not even that it’s horribly painful...it’s just… jarring. It was worse yesterday, when the contact was fresh. Now, the crests are spaced pretty far apart.” she grumbles, then stops and turns to glare at him.
He stares back, fighting the discomfort of those eyes. “What?”
She huffed out a sigh. “You’re just…” her teeth clenched together. “...you’re surprisingly easy to talk to.” she muttered before she started walking again.
“I...what?” his confusion at her statement was palpable.
“I don’t talk about it. I never talk about it. Not with anyone except my mom.” she says, needlessly adjusting the right strap of her backpack. “I didn’t want to talk about it, and here I am talking about it.”
“Well…” he wondered if he could reason her into opening up more. “I am one of the few people aware of the situation. It...could do you good.”
“It doesn’t.” she bit out, looking away.
“And maybe….maybe I feel a little guilty about it. I’m the biggest part of why you’re…” he jutted his chin in her direction.”Suffering?” he shrugged. “May as well tell me all about it.”
She straightened her spine, rolling her shoulders back as she walked with her eyes forward. “Don’t be an idiot. Spreading the suffering around is no way to manage it. Besides, I’m responsible for my actions. No one else.” She shook her head. “Apart from that, talking about it is distracting.”
“What do you mean?”
She took a deep breath. “I’ve keep asking myself one thing on loop… Why was I shaking Lex Luthor’s hand this morning?”
He blinked, his eyes darting around them. Just the mention of Luthor made him feel twitchy. Like he was being watched down the barrel of a sniper’s scope.
“Walking’s a good time to think.” Anita continued, her eyes sliding towards him.
“What?” he asked.
“The reason you feel guilty… it’s because I’m in pain after I helped you?”
He blinked at her. “What are you getting at?”
“There are three factors that connected to what happened yesterday. The asshole on the bridge with his death necklace, you and your group, and me in an imperfect disguise. I assume what’s left of the necklace is secure in your custody.”
“It is.” he snapped, feeling strangely defensive.
“Hm.” she grunted, looking forward again.
“What are you fishing for?”
“We can both assume that Luthor wasn’t angling to meet me for a scholarship, and it’s very suspicious that he’d approach me the day after that whole bridge thing.” she ground her molars, not sure how to continue. “Even if he doesn’t know about me, he knows something, and he wants something .”
The question she wanted to be answered was… delicate. Or it could be. She assumed Superboy was here to help, but how far did this goodwill extend, exactly? Could he be provoked into changing his opinion entirely?
“I guess what’s bothering me is… How Lex Luthor ties into all this? Assuming that he does… If it’s because of what happened yesterday, how is he connected to that? Could it be a coincidence?... That seems..” she shook her head again. “unlikely.”
“Luthor owns most of Metropolis.”
“Fantastic.” Anita spat. Again another wave of anxiety washed over her, her thoughts immediately centering on her mother and brothers.
“It’s possible that he got something from traffic cameras, the way that Robin did….”
Anita took a deep breath, gaining little comfort from the action. She still felt breathless, but she refused to submit to that panic. Now was not the time.
“Batman did show up on my porch last night.”
“That was a covert op, but… Luthor is resourceful.” he shrugged, feeling guilt creep up into his shoulder blades. “Guess he could’ve seen that.”
“Do you think Luthor’s connected to the Mask-hole?”
Superboy breathed out a tiny laugh. “Maybe. But… I don’t see how he’d know about you. We don’t even know much about you.”
He watches from the corner of his eye as she chafes her own biceps as though she’s cold. “Yeah well.. me neither.”
His eyes darted forward, away from her. To watch her right now...It felt… invasive. Like he was staring at her while she was having this vulnerable moment.
“Now what?” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean.. I mean, how…” she shook her head. “I… I don’t know what to do.” she said, her tone distant, confused as she watched her steps as she was taking them. “PVA26077.” she muttered.
“What?”
“It’s...an inside joke. Mom’s not overly worried about profanity now, but there was a time when it was on the list of things that’d get you in trouble.” she explained, sounding stronger than she had just a moment ago. It was nice to discuss something she had a decent grasp of. “Travis and I came up with a bunch of things to use instead of the standard cuss words.. that one’s one of the most colorful slurs.” She smirked. “Mom never got mad at those, because we used things like ‘Waterloo’ and ‘Witch Trials’... another way get Travis more interested in history.” she massaged her temples.
“We don’t have contingencies for this.” she murmured. “Worst comes to worst, text plan zero to everyone, everyone comes home, we pack up and hit the road. No questions asked, let things run their course. Hire movers, sell the business, open shop in a new area…” she began to pant. “But… but Luthor’s reach is long. And even if he wasn’t a factor, the Justice League is involved now.”
“Hey, you don’t have to run from us, alright?” Superboy reminded. “We actually want to help.”
“To what end?” Anita cut in. “I don’t want to be a superhero. I just want to live my life in relative peace.”
“Who says you can’t?” Superboy challenged, and she finally met his eyes. “We just want to make sure you’re safe.”
SHe surveyed him for some time before she started walking again. “Something to consider.” she muttered, and it was really starting to irritate him.
He knew there were a million thoughts cycling through her head, but she just wouldn’t say anything. She refused to say anything at all. Was it just how she processed things? Or was this a bigger issue.
The two of them spoke very little during the time it took to reach the Moore house.
“We’ll be around… you know…” Superboy shrugged.
“If I should need you.” she said with a tiny smirk, and he had the distinct impression this was another inside joke.
He nodded. “I’ll...check back with the team and… we’ll see you around.”
She nodded, swallowing thickly before croaking. “Thank you.” She didn’t wait for a response before jogging inside.
She didn’t see Superboy check his comm before jogging across the street. She didn’t see him leap away, because she didn’t look.
Once inside she took a deep breath. The air in the house normally had a soothing quality to it. But something was off. Her head slowly rotated to the side, one ear cocked higher than the other.
“...there are three heartbeats in this house.” she announced to the seemingly empty living room.
The sound of footsteps from the kitchen made her eyes dart to that doorway. Her eyes widened as a well-dressed Lex Luthor stood there smiling at her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now, I really have to get back to my African American history Pre-1868....even though it's lible to kill me :|
Relationships: Possibly a lot of OCs…and OCs with main characters.
Summary: It’s a new year at Hogwarts, and the Potions professor is having a hellish time. Not with the students, mind you. It’s the ridiculous new DADA professor that’s a badgering experience.
Notes: So, it appears that eons ago, when I wrote this... I just forgot to post the last two chapters that I wrote. And then there were finals. And here we are. So... this is officially caught up.
...now I just have to write more :| It's so easy. Why didn't I think of that...
Cygnus had always enjoyed the great hall. The buzz, the chatter, the food, the energy… everything. The first day of Hogwarts was over with… and she wasn’t even paying attention to the food before her.
Her first day as Potions Professor had gone quite smoothly. Now, her head was filled with lesson plans, students’ names, and different ways to engage her classes. There weren’t very many problems, but she was trying to foresee how circumstances could change, how students might give her trouble (and which), and what she may have to do in order to maintain her authority in her own classroom.
“You realize that you’ve taken about five minutes just cutting one piece of meat?”
Albus Bloody Potter.
Oh yes… there was that too. She hadn’t expected to be sitting anywhere special on the Professors’ table. But she was on the very end of the table, and Potter was seated right next to her. He made it a habit to be as insufferable as possible.
“Yes. I’m thinking.” She said, before placing the morsel she’d worked so hard to cut into her mouth.
“Your first day go well?” He asked conversationally.
“Quite. Almost a little too well, actually. Yourself?” she responded amiably.
“Very enjoyable, to tell the truth.” He said with a nod. “I half expected to flounder through it or perhaps find it dull and dread doing it, but… The students are engaging and eager to learn.” He paused and looked to her. “Do you find the first years a little googly-eyed?”
She snorted softly. “Googly-eyed?” she repeated, though without over-embellishing the term. She simply wanted clarification.
“Yes. They seem so… well, fascinated to be here.” he paused, as if to survey the ends of the tables where the first years sat. “Which is normal, but they also seem a bit slow.” he amended.
“It is their first year.” Cygnus defended soothingly.
“We weren’t like that in our first year.”
“Don’t speak for me.”
He chuckled, his bright smile and that damn sparkle in his eyes…it was ridiculously disarming and infuriating at the same time. Why was this infuriating man so easy to talk to?
“Very well then, I wasn’t like that. I had to be held back in most everything. I never sat back and stared like a moon-struck loon, I wanted to sink my teeth into everything.” He was looking at her again. “What about you? Everyone remembers first year; what was yours like?”
Her expression sobered considerably. The beginning of her first year had been horrid. She felt so shamed at being sorted into Hufflepuff that she wouldn’t look at her brothers. She even went so far as to actively avoid them.
She had gotten good at casting privacy and silencing charms out of necessity, because she didn’t want to wake up her roommates with her crying. She’d lost 5 pounds.. which didn’t seem like much, but she had been 11 at the time, and the pattern was to gain not lose weight.
Finally, the headmistress had flooed her parents… She had been terrified when she was summoned to the Headmistress’s office, wondering what horrible atrocity she could’ve committed. And then she saw her mother’s face, and she felt doubly worse. Her mother had hugged her, remarked that she’d lost weight and that they’d been worried over not hearing from her.
Then her father had requested that both the Headmistress and Mother leave the two of them alone to talk. She wished she had never been born. She wished the floor would swallow her up. She counted the long seconds while she waited for her father’s reproach… and it never came. When the door closed, he wrapped her up in his arms and scolded her over forgetting his words. He reminded her that he didn’t care what house she was in, because she was his daughter first and he loved her.
“Did I step on a proverbial land mind?” Cygnus blinked to find Potter almost fully facing her now, his expression worried. Honestly. What was he so concerned about?
“I…” she swallowed hard, still not sure what to tell him. “First year was not my easiest.” She said at last, shifting her focus onto her meal.
She decided that if she’d be better off cutting her meat up entirely and then eating the small pieces as opposed to cutting them up to eat them one at a time. Especially at the rate she was going.
“You had a hard time of it then? Being in Hufflepuff?” He asked and she sighed at the surprise in his tone. Was it really so hard to believe that life wasn’t all Honeydukes and Butterbeers for a Hufflepuff? “I mean… I’m not trying to say it as if I’m making fun, like, ‘oooh was it hard for you in Hufflepuff ?’ or anything like that, I’m actually... Curious.” He looked down at his plate awkwardly. “OK, you talk know, please.” He said giving his meal more attention.
She almost wanted to laugh at his self-consciousness. Almost. She did remind herself that he was a Slytherin…
“It was… trying.” Cygnus said at last. That was a word to use, and it wasn’t so volatile that it would betray her confidence. “We all had no idea what to expect for me, but no one expected Hufflepuff… including the other Hufflepuffs. They treated me like a pariah… Lilly, Cleo, and Lucy did their best to cheer me up when they could, and I did my best to put on a brave face and act like…” she stopped herself short, taking a deep breath to settle the swarm of wasps inside her ribcage.
“Act like?” He was looking askance at her again.
She sighed out that deep breath. “Act like I hadn’t lost my footing.” She admitted at last. In truth it had felt more like her world was slowly dissolving, but she couldn’t just say that. “My brothers were in Slytherin, my best friends were in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, and I was the oddball Hufflepuff.” She shrugged as if to make little of it.
“But…things did even out?”
“Eventually, yes. Though loyal, most Hufflepuffs can’t hold an unfounded grudge. Eventually, they all began to feel sorry for me and stopped acting like I had the dark mark. Things truly turned during Christmas break, when I realized I hadn’t disappointed my family.” Cygnus continued to focus on her food in order to avoid glaring at Potter.
She hadn’t meant to tell him so much. Really. It wasn’t even his fault. What was it about him that was so disarming and charming?
“You know, it was sort of the same for me…” He admitted. “I did a lot better at not showing it, but I thought about it constantly… the oddball Slytherin in a Gryffindor home.” He shrugged, smirking at his own expense.
“I imagine Sirius Black must have felt the same at times.”
“Only when he was home.”
“Most likely.”
“But, it was the same for me with Christmas Break… I went home and life was as it always had been. My parents were still the same, James was still insufferable, Lilly was still eager to go to Hogwarts herself.”
“That’s right, I keep forgetting your two years older than I am.” Cygnus murmured absently.
He nodded. “Maybe you’re right after all…. Some of them may have a different way of managing, but first years are all just coping with everything.” She took a moment to stare at Potter’s profile. He had a strange pensive stare as he gazed out over the young children. She wondered what he was thinking… or she would’ve, if she hadn’t caught herself thinking about it and then cut that thought process short.
Some time passed as they ate in silence. But of course, Potter couldn’t just let things be. Near the end of the meal he spoke quietly to her again.
“Listen…” He said slowly, as though he were measuring the weight of his words. “I have this …idea …for a project with my seventh years that I’d appreciate your help on.” He said carefully.
“You have a captive audience until I finish this pudding, Potter.” Cygnus replied in lieu of a snappish ‘make it quick’ retort.
“I was wanting to teach them a bit more about Polyjuice.”
Cygnus blinked. “Polyjuice?”
“Yes.” He said nodding vigorously.
“You know that it takes a month to brew…” she responded.
“Of course. That’s why I’m conferring with you now .”
She nodded pensively, her eyebrows lifting slightly. “It would be an interesting way to incorporate it into my own lesson plan.” She reasoned carefully. “I can have it ready for you by next month.”
“That’s superb, but there’s more.”
“Of course.”
“You see, it doesn’t help much to have Polyjuice unless I have someone willing to help me by being a double.”
Cygnus blinked. “Who are you thinking of asking?” she asked.
“You.”
Cygnus’s fork clattered into her plate in a chaotic reflection of her own mental response.
“But… I… what?”
“Just hear me out, alright?” she nodded for him to continue. “You polyjuice yourself as me and walk into my class and start doing whatever you want.”
“Oh… really?”
“Yes.” He sounded so determined. As though he were trying to maintain his hold on his own train of thought. “Then I walk into the classroom….” He paused, as if for dramatic effect. “See?”
“See what?”
He sighed. “The fact that the students will realize the possibility that someone could be deceiving them by way of potions.” Potter stopped, and peered at her closely. “Are you alright? You’ve gone pale…”
“Um. I’m fine.” Cygnus said with a wooden nod. She wondered briefly how he could tell when she ‘went pale’ since she was already so fair skinned. She did not feel fine, but she was good at faking it. Relatively. “What twists and turns your mind makes.”
“There are gives-and-takes on all potions, and I’m hoping that some of them will be able to tell that something is up and be able to discern which of us is which.”
“I do see …the advantages of the lesson, but where does it go from there? Do we squabble or duel to make it more interesting, or just go back and forth asking the students who they think is the real Professor Potter?”
Potter seemed to be deep in thought as he considered her words. “I don’t like the idea of us dueling… it gives you a chance to actually inflict harm.”
Cygnus smirked. “Scared, Potter?”
“Terrified.” He replied with a dramatic wince. Cygnus chuckled softly, shaking her head at his antics. “I think that’s the first time I’ve gotten you to smile.” He had the gall to say, which brought her back down to reality.
“No fair changing the subject.”
“That appears to be what you are doing, my dear.”
“I am not your dear, Potter.” Cygnus growled.
He smiled rakishly. “The night is young…” his face changed entirely when she glared at him balefully. “Now that… that look should be on the list of Unforgivables.” He joked uneasily. “Really, Cygnus, I didn’t mean—”
“Never mind.”
Potter wilted visibly at her snappish tone.
Oh, this just had to be acting. Potter may have been an oddball Slytherin, but he was a Slytherin. And if there was one thing Slytherins never did, it was trust complete strangers with their moods.
“Being as the potion will not be ready until a month hence, I imagine we can hammer out the details of our performances in the following month.” Cygnus said, righting their conversation properly.
“And you’ll go along with the routine?” Potter asked carefully.
“Yes. Yes. I’ll be you… a decidedly more literate, though poncey version of you—”
“Hey…”
“But, I’ll go along with it.”
Potter nodded. “Good.. I think.” his tone was confident, but his face was skewed in confusion.
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” She said, rising as she spoke. “I mean to retire for the evening.”
“Thanks… for everything.” Potter said.
But Cygnus pretended not to hear him. She didn’t look back… because she didn’t care, or because she just couldn’t make herself. Her stomach was tight, almost queasy, and her head ached. She felt flushed and her heart was hammering in her chest. All those things were not the symptoms of someone who didn’t care. She was just too tired to think about it.
Relationships: Possibly a lot of OCs…and OCs with main characters.
Summary: It’s a new year at Hogwarts, and the Potions professor is having a hellish time. Not with the students, mind you. It’s the ridiculous new DADA professor that’s a badgering experience.
Notes: So that paper took a lot longer than I anticipated :|
It was three in the afternoon before Cygnus bothered to look up from her work. It wasn't that her office and storage rooms needed the extra attention. She simply had her own methods of organization, and she just had to sort through everything.
The only reason she bothered stopping was due to the dizziness. The porridge and sausage links she’d had for breakfast were gone, and the orange she’d snacked on for brunch was not lasting.
She carefully shut and locked the doors to her office before she slipped the keys back into the pocket of her robes and exited her classroom. Once the door shut softly behind her, she turned down the tunnel that would lead to her quarters.
Time for lunch had long since passed, so she would have to fix herself something... Her vision blurred slightly and she massaged her brow. Perhaps it would be better to summon Dinky to her quarters and request lunch.
Her arms rose high above her head, stretching to work the kinks out of her back. Another wave of dizziness hit and she faltered sideways. She let out a tiny squeak when a pair of strong arms caught her.
“What have I caught here?” The deep voice resonated through her spine, sending goosebumps all over. Lips were pressed very close to the nape of her neck, making the hair at the base of her scalp rise and tingle. Something about that voice made the hair on her arms stand on end.
She wanted nothing more than to thrash about until she was released, but she maintained her composure… just barely. But just enough to bring that steely ‘Malfoy’ edge to her words.
“Set me up right...and release me.” She commanded.
A soft chuckle answered her before she felt herself tip back onto her own feet. She schooled the fear from her face before turning to face her 'rescuer'. Her eyes widened as they met a set of mischievous green eyes.
“Fancy meeting you here, Malfoy.” he murmured, still too close for her liking.
Cygnus took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him.
“Potter.” She practically growled.
The last she'd heard of Albus Potter, he had left his position as a beater in professional Quidditch and was now more known for his 'romantic exploits'. Her father had remarked on many occasions on the astounding obsession the Prophet had with anything and everything ‘Potter’, whether it was news-worthy or not.
He chuckled at her in the most maddening fashion. Something about his tone, it was deep and almost scratchy, and it seemed to make her skin vibrate unnaturally.
“If I didn't know any better, I'd say Professor Snape had come back to possess you, what with the way you say 'Potter' and all.” She could see how that might be a worry for him, as he looked so like his father…though he did not wear spectacles, of course.
“The ghost of one of my predecessor is hardly a worry.” Cygnus admitted. “Now if you'll excuse me... I was just on my way to lunch.”
“A little late for lunch, isn't it?” He asked, looking slightly puzzled.
“Indeed.” She muttered, continuing along her way.
“Why the late lunch?”
“I wanted to get my office and storeroom in order... it took longer than I thought.”
“Ahh, so you're the new Potions Professor.” He said, falling into step beside her. Hadn’t she already revealed that by naming Snape as a predecessor? Honestly.
“I take it you will be the Defense Instructor.”
He eyed her curiously. “McGonagall told you?” He seemed mildly surprised.
“Only that there would be a new Defense professor.” She sighed heavily. “Besides myself, you are the only new person here.” She let her eyes drift to him momentarily. “I'm surprised you managed to keep it a secret for so long.”
“I can keep secrets.”
“Perhaps, but your exploits are often in the Prophet ... though not as well publicized since you quit Puddlemere.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you read.” She heard the smirk in his voice without having to look at him. “You keep up with Quidditch?”
“Corvus does.” She bit out.
It was a half-truth… Corvus did keep up with Quidditch, like most wizards.
Cygnus paid attention to better follow Lilly’s career. Lilly was the most fantastic seeker that had played the game since her father hung up his broom, if Cygnus had anything to say about it, and she did… but Cygnus and Lilly’s friendship was somewhat limited these days… Lilly wasn’t the best at writing letters, as her life was such a whirlwind. So, Cygnus kept up with her career and sent letters weekly.
“I never would've pegged you as a Puddlemere fan.” Potter remarked, snapping her back to the present along with her churning belly.
“I prefer the Ballycastle Bats, actually.”
“What! The bats…” He stared in shock before seeing an impish smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. He let out a soft chuckle. “Score one for the Potions Professor.”
“I manage.”
“Indeed, it seems you know enough to be dangerous.”
She eyed him. “Are you following me?”
“I prefer the term ‘escorting’.” He said with a smile. “If I were to leave you alone, I would be afraid you would faint before you could get to your room.”
Cygnus scoffed. “I shall make a mental note to eat proper meals, lest I gain the dubious honor of being ‘escorted’ by Albus Potter.” Something around his eyes tightened, making his boyish smirk skew slightly. Cygnus stopped momentarily, releasing a breath. “That sounded much more snide than I had intended…” she observed with only a touch of contrition.
Potter actually chuckled. “Please tell me you aren’t concerned that you hurt my feelings.”
“I only fear misinterpretation.” Cygnus quipped. “What was said was intended in jest, not scorn.”
“I have heard you and Lilly together, you know.” Albus said dryly. “I’m one of the few people who knows that you can speak like an actual person.” Cygnus stared at him resolutely for a beat.
“And now yours is the tone dripping in scorn.” She remarked.
“I’m only saying, you sound like a dictionary.” He said, his arms fanning out slightly as if in surrender.
“Sometimes it is necessary to be better understood.” She admitted before continuing on her way.
“As you say then.” Albus quipped back, jogging for a pace before catching up with her.
“You are following me.” Cygnus muttered grudgingly.
“I’m only checking to see if you’ll actually invite me in.” He replied with a smirk. It make her upper lip curl in a sneer. What cheek. What outright audacity.
“Mystery solved.” She reported, stopping and leaning back against her door. “Good afternoon, Potter.” She said simply, as she swiftly opened the door, stepped into her room and closed the door before Potter could do more than blink in surprise. With a sigh, she summoned her house elf. “Dinky?”
“That’s not very polite, Malfoy.” She heard him, though his voice was muddled through the door. Her only response was a bland glare at the offending portal. Of course, that was irrational. It wasn’t the door’s fault that Albus Potter was insufferable.
“Is Misses needing Dinky?” Dinky asked brightly. Cygnus hadn’t even heard the little dear pop into the room. She was chubby-cheeked, almost cherubic truthfully. And her wardrobe…
The little house elf was wearing a pale purple dress that Cygnus had given her long ago. Grandfather had been entirely aghast when he learned that Cygnus had begun playing dress-up with her house elf, thereby freeing her. Of course, since Cygnus tended to treat Dinky lovingly, the house elf had no intentions of leaving her servitude. In fact, Dinky had inherited all of the clothes Cygnus had grown out of. Today’s outfit was pale purple dress with a drop waist marked by a border of daisies, set off with a matching purple headband adorned with a single audaciously large daisy.
“Yes, Dinky.” Cygnus said with a soft smile. “I’m very hungry, Darling, and I was wondering if you could bring me any left-overs from lunch?”
Dinky’s face twisted slightly in reproach. “Misess is forgetting to eat again?”
“I’m afraid I did get carried away.” She replied with a nod. “It won’t happen again.”
Dinky nodded before disappearing.
Before Cygnus could relax at being alone, a knock sounded from the door. She stared at it first in shock before carefully sliding over and opening it. Her face fell into that bland glare again.
“May I come in, Cygnus?” Potter asked with a smile.
“No.” Cygnus replied simply. It grated on her that he was using her first name. Like he knew her. Like he had any right.
“Why not?” He asked, looking genuinely curious.
She crossed her arms, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. “Potter, in case it has escaped your notice, I’ve failed to invite you in twice. This means that I don’t want you to come in. Ergo, you are now imposing.”
“I only want to know why.” He said with a small smile.
“I owe you nothing, Potter. Though, I suppose between the two of us, I am more capable of being gracious.” she said, baring her teeth more than she’d like. “Because. It’s my room.” Cygnus snapped. “ Mine . And I am extraordinarily territorial. I have no intentions of sharing it, let alone with you.”
“Ouch.” He half grumbled, giving a bleak look to the doorjamb.
“You asked. Nay, you demanded.” Cygnus reminded, bouncing up from the doorway, the door firm in her grasp. “And at the moment, I’d like to eat in peace. Close my eyes for a moment and be alone. I can’t do that if you’re barging in.”
“Very well, but I wonder if you’ll enjoy the consequences.” He said, looking away with feigned disinterest.
Cygnus let out a frustrated sigh. “There are consequences to a woman wanting to eat alone?”
“Oh yes.” Potter had the cheek to smile at her. “See you around, Cygnus.” He said before turning and leaving.
Cygnus stared at his retreating back with a puzzled look on her face before shaking her head and closing the door. “Insufferable man.” She muttered to herself.
Relationships: Possibly a lot of OCs…and OCs with main characters.
Summary: It’s a new year at Hogwarts, and the Potions professor is having a hellish time. Not with the students, mind you. It’s the ridiculous new DADA professor that’s a badgering experience.
Notes: Phew… Well, I wanted to add this chapter relatively quickly after posting the first. The first chapter is very short. So, I feel like this is very necessary follow-up.
Now if you’ll excuse me. I have to write a paper about documents exchanged between native Americans and the American government :| Truly thrilling.
***********
11 year-old Cygnus bobbed her left knee as she peered through the window in their compartment, watching the other families mill about. She could not contain her excitement! And her twin brother Corvus was simply sitting there next to her with his eyes closed! Usually, she could rely on Corvus to understand her moods and be her sounding board (or the other way around), but he seemed overly bored with the entire process.
"Really, Corvus. I don't know how you can sleep at a time like this." she muttered.
"Who could possibly sleep when you're shaking the whole compartment?" Corvus asked, his eyes still closed.
Twin siblings they may be, but you would never find two children so dissimilar in appearance or personality. Cygnus was the baby girl of the family, and like their old brother Scorpius, could have been a clone of her father. She thought she was even a bit pale in comparison to him as her hair was nearly white. Father had always smiled and told her she looked as divinely elegant as grandmother in her youth.
Corvus on the other hand, though pale in complexion, had ebon black hair and rich brown eyes. Grandmother often said he acquired his features more from the her side of the family. Not that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had disapproving features; far from it! Like all Malfoys, the twins did have sharp features, but Corvus's chin was perhaps a little more broad and rounded. Today, they were both dressed in elegant but neutral black robes.
"It's just too exciting!" Cygnus whispered. "And why aren't we moving yet?"
"Sister-dear, really. This is what comes from your over-eagerness. You were the one who encouraged Father and Mother to depart early, you hurried us all onto the train as soon as it arrived. Now we're settled and ready and for what? To watch everyone else blather about." He sighed and shook his head. "You asked how I could sleep, but the true question is how can you stay awake?"
"I hardly slept all night!" Cygnus beamed.
“Damn your chipper attitude, woman.” Cygnus had no idea why he kept calling her ‘woman’…it was like he was deliberately trying to mimic Father, but only when he wasn’t present.
"The train hasn't even moved, and already you're damning your sister." Scorpius's voice came from the door as he smiled at his siblings.
"Have you settled into your compartment, big brother?" Cygnus asked. She noted that Corvus had opened an eye to survey Scorpius, but almost immediately shut it and returned to his fake rest.
"Of course. Sorry I can't sit with you two, but—”
"Oh, bah. You wouldn't want to sit with us anyway." Corvus grumbled.
"We understand, of course." Cygnus gushed making her brother gain a bit of color.
"Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me, right? The train should be fully loaded soon, and then we'll be on the move."
"We'll be fine, but thanks, Scoro." Cygnus said, whispering the nickname. Scorpius only nodded with a smile before closing the door and leaving.
Cygnus sighed at her still inanimate twin before looking about the cabin to see if anything could be tended to in order to kill time. Father had said that the food on the train was abysmal, and thus sent them with their own lunch and snack packs. Corvus had situated them on the seat across from them so that they would be easy to reach. Their luggage was, of course, already well secured. There really was nothing to do but wait.
If she was being entirely honest, she would admit that her nervous energy wasn't just from the excitement of going to Hogwarts.... she almost feared her place there, and finding out what it would be. It was easy to see the house her brothers would fall into. Scorpius had already been in Slythern for ages now, and Corvus would no doubt be joining him.... but after hearing their parents talk about it, she truly couldn't profess any enthusiasm for falling into that house. She had confessed that to her mother a few nights ago. She was afraid that thinking to refuse Slytherin would place her into the dreaded Gryffindor! Her mother had taken her hand and brought her to Father's office. Mother had explained their little talk to him.
Father only smiled at her lovingly and said, "Swan-love, it isn't as though we haven't known you may not fit in to the house of Slytherin for a long time."
"You have?" She asked drearily.
"You're nothing like your brothers, and there's little doubt that you would be torn to shreds from your housemates vying for position." he announced. She hung her head a bit. "But you'll still be our baby girl, no matter what house you're sorted into. You most certainly have the brain power to land you in Ravenclaw quite easily." He had said with a smile. "And if it's Gryffindor..." He sighed and smiled. "Well, Sirius Black was sorted into that house, and he's one of us, isn't he?"
"From the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, to boot." Mother had reminded.
Cygnus stared between her parents in awe. "Wow..." She murmured. After that, she had been fairly encouraged... especially after she had gotten big hugs all around.
Corvus sighed, pulling her out of the memory. "I hate these black robes." He grumbled.
"Only because it blends in with your fabulous hair so well." Cygnus sniffed.
"Whatever. Tonight we'll be in Slytherin green."
"Well.. you will."
Corvus blinked at her. "Huh... I never thought about it, but you probably won't be in Slytherin with us..."
"It's probably for the best." Cygnus pointed out. "Father said I might not survive the in-house scheming."
Corvus nodded thoughtfully. "True." Then he smiled at her. "You would look spectacular in Ravenclaw blue."
Cygnus smiled back, glad for his understanding. A few seconds passed and Corvus was pretending to doze off again. Cygnus stared out the window. Ravenclaw blue? Yes, that would be a good compliment to her coloring. Not as good as Slytherin green, but her chances of earning her way into said color was improbable at best. Still, blue won hands down over the hideous Gryffindor red. She hoped she would never humiliate her family in such a way. She laughed inwardly, wondering what the founders would think if they knew their legacy was being weighed in the balance as a fashion statement.
The sound of the door sliding open brought her attention away from the window. A girl her age with long red hair and warm brown eyes eyed the two occupants. When no greeting came from the intruder, Corvus opened an eye before narrowing it at her in a glare. It looked ridiculous.
"Uh... sorry for interrupting, but... there are very few seats left open, and I was wondering if you had any spare room?" the girl asked, glaring back at Corvus.
"Oh! Yes, of course!" Cygnus gushed, reaching over and taking their lunch and snack packs from the opposite seats. "Please sit with us! My brother keeps nodding off, and I'm much too excited to sleep. I would love the company." She said, as she put the lunch packs on her lap. The girl smiled and sat down across from Cygnus.
"My name's Lilly, by the way." She said with a smile. Well, she was smiling at Cygnus. Corvus had opened both eyes to alternately glare between Lilly and Cygnus, which meant he was being ignored by both girls.
"Oh, what a pretty name." Cygnus whined softly. "Much better than mine. I'm Cygnus." she said drooping.
"...Cygnus?" Lilly asked in obvious sympathy and clearly confused.
Cygnus nodded. "It's a family name... My twin here is Corvus. Don't mind him, he just doesn't make friends with people easily or quickly." Cygnus said with a smile as she waved off her brother. Corvus glared at her momentarily before settling back with a sigh and staring off at the empty space in front of him.
"Yeah, he doesn't strike me as a people person."
"He can be, when he wants to. He just likes to make sure he doesn't waste the effort on people he doesn't know." Cygnus said with a shrug. "Silly if you ask me." She gave her undivided attention to this new person now. "Oh, I love your hairpins!" She said, gushing softly so as not to disturb her twin.
Lilly tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear self-consciously, but smiled at the compliment. "My Dad got them for me." She said.
"Oh, my Dad got me some things too. He calls them 'vanity pieces' because it's all jewelry and hair things and such." Cygnus said with a smile. "But, I can't wear any of them till we get to our houses tonight. He charmed them so that they can switch colors to whatever house I get sorted into... since, well... we're not really sure where I'll be. He didn't want to buy me a bunch of things that I may never want to wear."
Lilly smiled. "That's clever." She said. "Dad just assumed that I would be in Gryffindor." She said with a shrug. "But I guess none of us really know where we'll be."
"Oh, I knew where my brothers would be long before they got sorted. It's Slytherin green for them."
Lilly blinked. "Albus is in Slytherin too."
“Albus Potter?” Corvus asked, his voice hard. For an 11 year-old at least.
The two girls paused, Lilly thrown slightly at the intrusion in the conversation, and Cygnus because if that were true, it meant that Lilly was THE Lilly Potter....
"Yes..." Lilly answered slowly.
"Hm. I thought I recognized you." He said, before settling back and closing his eyes again.
The two girls blinked at one another, wondering where that left them. Cygnus finally decided that it really didn't matter who Lilly was related to. She had been very nice after all.
"He's so odd." She said, shaking her head with a sigh.
"Sorry..." Lilly murmured looking away.
"What for?"
"Well... for not properly introducing myself?"
Cygnus smiled brightly. "Oh, but you look just like your mother, so it's easy to recognize. If anyone should apologize, it should be me. But I look so much like Father, I assume everyone knows who I am."
Lilly looked at her for a moment before cocking her head to the side. Her eyes darted up to their luggage in the rack before rounding and returning to Cygnus. "Malfoy?" she breathed in awe.
Cygnus beamed. "Explains the strange name, doesn't it?"
Lilly chuckled. "I suppose."
"Is that alright?" Cygnus asked, momentarily worried that the Potter/Malfoy feud may have carried over to this generation without her knowing it. "That I'm a Malfoy, that is?"
Lilly smiled softly, her eyes seeming to warm up again. "Does it matter that I'm a Potter?"
Cygnus smiled back. "Not at all. I think I'm going to like you."
The two girls ended up talking the entire trip. They barely even noticed the scenery outside as the train sped on its way to Hogwarts. Lilly found out that Cygnus loved to swim and ride horses, but that she felt a little lost in her family. Cygnus told her how her grandparents always scolded her over her posture, saying she was too timid.
"Now, Cygnus, you are the swan of the family." Cygnus said, trying to mimic Grandmother. "You must hold your head aloft and your shoulders must be squared back. We are Malfoys and we do not lack in confidence." Lilly had laughed at Cygnus who tried to hold her chin sky high and press her shoulders back dramatically. It almost looked like she was about to leap and flap her arms or some other silly interpretive dance.
Cygnus discovered that Harry Potter wasn't just the hero of the wizarding world, but he was his daughter's hero as well. Not because he was dynamic and heroic, but because no matter how high up in the wizarding world he may be, he was never too busy to climb trees or read aloud before bed. Lilly also liked to fly, but that was supposed to be a secret. Evidently, she and her dad would sneak out to fly together, but they had to keep it a secret because Lilly was ‘too young’ by…well… by someone’s standards. She never had said who exactly objected to the notion.
By the time the girls stepped off the train, they were friends. The castle loomed ahead, and they both knew that it wouldn't be long before they would officially be Hogwarts students.
“Lilly?" Cygnus whispered leaning in to her friend as they waited just beyond the great hall.
"Hm?"
"... Will you still be my friend... even if I end up in Slytherin?"
Lilly smiled at her. "Don't worry, Cygnus. I'm from Gryffindor stock. We're a brave type. I'll be your friend no matter what house we're both in.”
Cygnus smiled. "I feel the same way. Houses shouldn't be the way we label everyone."
Lilly nodded in reply, and may have elaborated, but then the grand doors were opening... and it was so much to take in. Cygnus could barely breath from the grandeur of it all. Two wizarding wars could not diminish the magnificence that was Hogwarts.
"I shall call out your names and you shall sit beneath the sorting hat." The speaker may as well have spoken in another language for all Cygnus heard. She was too busy searching out Scorpius at the Slytherin table. There he was! Oh, her brother looked fairly dashing in his Prefect robes... well, they weren't very different from normal robes. But she was biased, and Scorpius always looked dashing.
"GRYFFINDOR!!"
Cygnus jumped as the first person was sorted. A golden-haired girl she hadn't met from the train leapt off the chair and scampered happily over to the Gryffindor table. Perhaps it would be better to pay more attention. She forced herself to watch as each student's name was called, then the hat sorted them into their houses. If the wait for the train to leave the station had been long, the wait to get to the M's seemed an eternity.
"Malfoy, Corvus."
Corvus smirked, tossed a wink over his shoulder at his sister and sauntered over to the chair. Cygnus sighed inwardly envious, but smiled at him approvingly. If only she could be so confident. There were whispers among the tables, but none so much as the Slytherin table. The hat hadn't been on his head for five seconds before it declared its verdict.
"SLYTHERIN!!!"
Cygnus gave a little jump and actually clapped along with the other cheering students.
"Malfoy, Cygnus."
Cygnus made sure her chin was as level, high as it needed to be and her shoulders were straight, just like Grandmother had taught her. She wafted over to the chair and perched daintily, placing her feet together and to the side. The hat was placed upon her head, and immediately, the evaluation began.
"Oh my... my my my my my. Such a bright child."
"Thank you." Cygnus whispered with a bashful smile.
"Yes, but the mentality I see here is nothing like the mark left on you by your family name."
"Yes..." She responded, lowering her eyes a bit. "We assumed that would happen."
"hmmmm." The hat pondered. "You are quite intelligent... but, you do not peruse knowledge for the sake of knowledge."
Cygnus's brow drew up as she pondered that assessment. ‘Well.. I suppose that is true.’ She had never considered herself madly intelligent anyway. Still being told she was bright right away was quite the compliment. The hat seemed so good at seeing through to the heart of the matter.
"Such a lovely child. You are very brave in matters of the heart.... you give your love quite freely, but without a thought of what you may get in return."
Cygnus pouted slightly, as was her habit when she thought of things. She kept her gaze downward, feeling there was no need to respond to that. Love and the act of loving was hardly something to reward. It wasn't as if the people around her were difficult to love. Even Grandfather was easy to love, and everyone always complained about him for some reason. Then again, of her entire family, Cygnus was the least noteworthy. She was average or passing in most of her pursuits and private studies, and that was a high praise.
"HUFFLEPUFF!!"
Cygnus's eyes popped open wide, staring blankly ahead. Had she heard right? Hufflepuff? She was a Hufflepuff? She slid off the chair, fingers numb and arms so cold… barely noticing Lilly's cheerful, encouraging smile. The heated whispering that surrounded her grew to exuberant proportions, making her feel as though she were surrounded by vipers.
"Enough!" Headmistress McGonagall shrilled firmly, regaining order. "You may sit with your housemates, Child." She said.
Cygnus nodded politely and wandered over to the Hufflepuff table. She tried to ignore the girl she sat next to, since she had made a show of trying to edge away from Cygnus.... She kept her eyes lowered, her gaze on the empty plate in front of her. There was no way she could meet either of her brothers' eyes.... Outwardly, Cygnus seemed demure and resigned, but inwardly she was in torment.
Hufflepuff. The one house that had not even made it onto Father's list of possibilities. It was bad enough that she wasn't in Slytherin... but Hufflepuff?
"GRYFFINDOR!!"
No doubt that was Lilly, joining her family at the Gryffindor table.
Why? Why had she been put into Hufflepuff? No Malfoy ever... It wasn't even possible to consider it... And yet here she sat. She, Cygnus Violetta Malfoy... the Hufflepuff.
She vaguely heard the hat call out a few Ravenclaws and wondered why she hadn't argued that she was intelligent! But it had said she was brave too... brave of heart. And she had started thinking about how much she loved her family. Had that been it? What had been the deciding factor?
***********
“There she is!” The cheerful cry brought Cygnus out of her reverie.
It was bright and early the morning after she had settled in, and the storm had long since blown past. Cygnus was very eager to get down to her classroom and survey it. She had rushed through breakfast almost tripping herself. The halls were empty and terribly quiet, which only seemed to increase Cygnus's giddiness.
But now, she had been discovered. She looked up to find the Headmistress coming her way with a kind smile on her face.
Minerva McGonagall had been an elder in the community when Cygnus had been a student. It shouldn’t be too surprising to see the touches of white had bled through, silvering her hair entirely. If grey hair was the sign of wisdom and knowledge was power, then McGonagall was certainly a goddess.
“Oh, Child, how good it is to see you again.”
Cygnus smiled, taking the offered hand. “It is my delight, Headmistress.”
“Oh, Gracious. Minerva, my dear. You must call me Minerva. And I am the one who is delighted.”
“I shall pretend that it isn't solely because I am saving you from teaching Potions yourself, Minerva.” Cygnus replied with a grin.
McGonigal chuckled as she fell into step beside Cygnus. “Well, I do suppose you are saving us that chore for the year.” she said. “Now that you've spent your first night back, I must ask if your rooms are to your liking?”
“Oh, yes of course. I felt terribly spoiled as they are quite grand.”
“Nonsense. Considering all of the work you will be doing, I believe you shall earn them. Now you shall not hesitate to come to me if there is anything you need, yes?”
“I’ve little doubt that everything will go smoothly. I've been watching my grandfather and learning to mimic him. He's also given me pointers on how best to intimidate others. If the little whelps get out of line, I can pull some Malfoy charm on them.”
Minerva chuckled. “Malfoy Charm. Is that what you call it?”
“Charm? Pride? Disdain?” Cygnus shrugged. “Why does there have to be a difference?” She asked with a sigh.
Minerva laughed out loud at that. “Now, I'm here to tell you that there will be a staff meeting the day after tomorrow, and you are to attend. It will be at 9 AM sharp, but as I recall, you always were an early riser.”
“Guilty as charged.” Cygnus said, stopping and turning to face the Headmistress. “Will you be requiring anything specific from this? You did already receive the copy of my syllabus, didn't you?”
“Oh, no it isn't anything like that, my dear. And, I received your syllabus, as you well know. I distinctly remember flooing back with a five-star approval.”
“As do I, but there are some moments that we all enjoy reliving.”
Minerva shook her head. “No, the meeting is more to aquatint the teachers with one another, and introduce new teachers. It helps for us to let you know what to expect.”
"There are very many things one will never learn in a book." Cygnus said with a heart-felt nod. How many things had she been better prepared for simply for listening to one of her elders?
“Indeed. And you are not the only new face we have on staff.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. He has asked to keep this all confidential, at least until term starts, but we will have a new DADA Instructor as well.”
“I see. I suppose I'll be meeting him tomorrow morning then.”
“Indeed you will. I assume you are off to survey your new classroom?” Minerva said with a little grin.
“Guilty again.” Cygnus said with a self-conscious chuckle.
“Well, make sure to review all of the stores. I'm sure I ordered everything you'll be needing, but a second pair of eyes never hurts. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be off. Horrid this time of year before the children all arrive.”
“Oh, our poor Headmistress.” Cygnus cooed. “If you should need anyone to share tea and apple pastries with…”
“I shall not hesitate to summon you, dear.” Minerva said with a parting smile.
Summary: After responding to an incident, members of the team are saved by an unknown metahuman. But no protocols are in place to deal with the series of unfortunate events that assail Anitia Moore. What exactly should the team do when a someone with powers needs training but doesn’t want to be a member of the team?
Author’s Notes: In case anyone is wondering, the Meghan Trainor song that’s referenced in the title is supposed to be ‘Lips are Moving’ :)
Without further ado!
Tim Drake wasn’t an ungrateful sort of person by nature. In fact, he’d like to think that he looked back on any given day of his life and focused on the silver lining, the good news, the reason to keep going.
Today, it was the enormous size of the computer interface at the team’s HQ.
It came in handy during times when he needed to focus on multiple points at the same time.
Currently, he had recognition software running over both Anita Moore’s behavioral patterns for the last—he double checked the time span it was currently at—seven months and climbing.
He was also running a program over her academic records—a more fine-tooth comb. It was going through her papers to catalog patterns of speech and recurring themes.
He was also searching the photos of her bedroom that Bumblebee had taken, in order to catalog the specific items in her room. The bugs were still in place, and the transcript software was running simultaneously (though no one was currently at the Moore house), and he was also monitoring cell phone activity...
Not only was it impossible for the Moore family to do anything with Anita without him knowing about it, but within a few short hours… he’d have a decent sense of who she was as a person.
“Have you slept?”
Robin didn’t look away from the screen as Artemis approached. “I didn’t need much.”
“Hmn.” she grunts, but otherwise she’s satisfied without adding further comment. Conner wanders in as well, and he is gracious enough not to mention Tim’s sleeping habits. “What’s the word, bird?”
Conner gave Artemis a questioning look. Her sense of humor had been… odd lately.
“The Moore girl is at school. Her brothers too. Her mother’s probably at the family bakery.”
“Probably?” Conner only wants to clarify, because it isn’t often that Robin fails to speak in absolutes.
“Her cell phone is pinging near there. We haven’t bugged that location, but it’s still a decent enough estimation.”
“It’s still too early for drama.” Artemis grumbled.
As if on cue, a box popped up with an alert.
“What’s that?” Conner asked.
“Text message.” Robin said, squinting at the text that had popped up. “‘This shit is crazy. You won’t even believe.’” He read robotically.
“Is that from Anita?”
“Yes. To her mom.” Robin informed. Another text popped up in the same window. “‘Don’t be surprised if you get a call. I’m on my way home.’...” As the new information registered, it made his eyes nearly bulged.
“Oh, shit.” Artemis breathed. Conner was already in the elevator, because there was no time to lose.
Anita couldn’t fight the slouch she’d slipped into. Her shoulders were hunched forward and her arms were folded across her stomach, because she couldn’t stop herself.
Her teeth ached and her stomach felt like it was on fire. It came in throbs and waves. Throbs in the teeth and waves in the belly.
Pain was such a strange thing. The throbs faded in and out, and the waves crested, peaked, washed through the rest of her nerves and then…. petered out. Meanwhile, the bwong noise from Inception was still raging in her molars.
“Goddamn lead.” she muttered to herself.
“Mrs. Douglas, might I steal Anita Moore from you for a moment?”
That voice brought her momentarily out of her fog. She looked up to see Mr. Davis poking his mostly bald head into the room. The man should just shave… the wispy brown hair that haloed his shiny bald head only made him look older. If he shaved, he’d probably look much younger.
“Uh.. very well.” Mr. Douglas looked her way, and nodded.
Out of habit, Anita grabbed her backpack, which she’d yet to really unpack. Class had only just started and she was… she was not doing well.
“You won’t have to worry about your things, dear.” Mrs. Douglas assured, but Anita ignored her.
She didn’t trust her classmates (or anyone else)....and she preferred to keep her things on her person or in her locker. Nothing else made sense to her.
“What’s going on, Mr. Davis?” she asked, her voice low and a little more creaky than usual.
“I have the greatest news and the best surprise for you!” Mr. Davis enthused. “Come with me.” he said, leading her down the hallway.
“...I hate surprises.” she monotoned.
This lanky, red-faced man was mostly harmless, but he still didn’t understand boundaries properly as far as Anita was concerned. He was the teacher that sent her essay into the local university for publication.
“Well, how does a scholarship opportunity sound then?” He asked, an enormous smile on his face.
...the man meant well, he really did. But… He and Anita had different ideas about her future.
He had some weird notion that he was Michelle Pfeiffer and she was the entire class of at-risk ne'er do wells from Dangerous Minds, and if he only prompted her properly, she’d blossom into an ambitious student… At least it wasn’t the plot of She’s All That.
“I...don’t know that I want a future in science.” Anita admitted reluctantly. It was true, but she was hesitant to relent her truths to anyone.
“Oh! Don’t worry about that.” he waved off her admission. He probably didn’t believe her, or thought she was ‘just being shy’.
This was part of why Anita didn’t like talking to people. They so rarely listened.
She followed along, eyeing the dingy tile until he led her into his office. She was distracted, again, by the weird pewter award he had on the corner of his desk. It looked like a large circle set into the top of a pyramid, with a bunch of metal dings all over it.
“So, this is the student.”
Anita whirled around, very nearly colliding with the corner of the desk, to find a sharply dressed man closing the door. He had been behind the open door, so she hadn’t noticed him till now…
“Anita Moore, meet Mr. Lex Luthor.” Mr. Davis beamed as he motioned between them.
When Mr. Luthor stepped forward to shake her hand, she stepped back, keeping the corner of the desk between them. She stared at his face in shock, his expression calm and somewhat expectant. Her eyes finally drifted down to his hand. Mr. Davis was giving her that, ‘well go on!’ look, which only served to annoy her.
She blinked rapidly, shaking herself out of stasis. She took Lex Luthor’s hand in a firm grip.
“That’s quite a handshake you have there.” He said.
Anita swallowed past her parched throat. “Why is Mr. Luthor shaking my hand?” she asked the room in general. Also, why wasn’t he letting go yet?
He let out a little laugh and nodded. “Right to the point! I do appreciate directness.” he said, releasing her hand. She was more than a little relieved when he stepped back. “I’m sure you know that Lexcorp awards several scholarships to promising young scholars.”
Anita felt a tenseness creep up into the back of her neck.
“I was delighted with your essay about the Mississippi River and the Louisiana Wetlands.”
“The swamp essay?” Anita clarified.
He smiled, and Anita was reminded why charisma was not a dump-stat. This man could sell ice to Eskimos.
“Yes. The leaps you made, connecting the damming of the Mississippi river to the erosion of the—”
“None of that research is new or unique. I made those conclusions from the library here.” Anita tried to argue.
“That is what makes it significant. I can’t imagine what you could possibly do with proper funding and on-site exposure.” Anita just stared at him wide-eyed. “You don’t appear to understand what’s going on.”
“Anita is very modest.” Mr. Davis assured, which only made Anita glare at him.
Mr. Luthor half turned to Mr. Davis and smiled. “Mr. Davis, perhaps I could speak with the young lady alone.”
Anita blinked rapidly, more than a little shocked by this absurd request.
“Of course!” Mr. Davis said. Anita’s eyes practically bugged out as the science teacher quickly shuffled out of his office and shut the door.
Mr. Luthor smirked. “There’s no need to be so shocked. Mr. Davis wants what’s best for you, and he knows I can offer you an easy academic future.”
“I don’t need an academic future. I need a practical one. Or...just one at all.”
An eyebrow arched as he surveyed her. “I wonder. Do you really mean that? You have no intentions of going to college?”
“I love science, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to make up my whole life.” Anita argued. “I’m a teenager. I only know that I don’t want to wake up in my 30’s realizing I made a snap decision and ended up putting all my time and energy into a career that I hate.”
Mr. Luthor turned and inspected Mr. Davis’s bookshelf. “That’s understandable.”
When he moved, Anita suddenly felt… vulnerable. Like she needed to keep an eye on him, because he was obviously dangerous… but she couldn’t figure out why.
Her hand landed on the award, her fingers stretching out over the metal… she pulled at the pewter, feeling it seep into her fingers, but it held nothing offensive. It felt...like..like... a shield? Her thumb slid over the little pyramid and the brass nameplate on its base… Brass. Oh, that felt promising.
“I wonder at your passing up this opportunity. You don’t have many good connections as it is, and the pressure of your future will not wait. You need to start making plans now. ” he said without turning to face her.
“I beg your pardon.” it was a demand, not a question.
“After all, you have very few resources. Your mother can’t possibly support you all by herself, nor should she have to. She has three other children to consider, and they’ll all need her money and attention.”
It was then that Mr. Luthor turned and eyed her, his gaze dropping to her hand on Mr. Davis’s award, his smirk deepening. “Do you intend to hit me with that?” he asked, sounding almost delighted at the prospect.
“I don’t need to hit you for you to feel it.” Anita challenged.
Technically, the lead and kryptonite were still in her system, and jasper never left her person. So… she could probably fight her way out of anything. Maybe.... but how bad would it be if it came to that? What sort of fall-out was she looking at?
Both of his eyebrows rose. “Interesting.”
Her eyes narrowed, because his face was… strange. It wasn’t the genial showman he had been when Mr. Davis was here. He was something else now… It was like he had decided that she was some sort of puzzle, and he wanted to figure her out.
Putting what he’d said earlier about her family—knowledge he shouldn't have—together with this new behavior… Anita’s eyes widened, her shoulders hunched forward and her chin jutted out. “You need to explain yourself right now.” it wasn’t quite a challenge, but at the same time it wasn’t a request. Not that she was in any position to threaten him...
“I’m not here because of your essay.” he admitted.
“I assumed that was a lie.”
“What gave me away?”
“Your lips were moving.” she snarked, infuriated when he chuckled.
“A girl like yourself can do many things, Anita. You can go very far, given the proper connections, but… you’ll always want to keep your family safe...won’t you?”
“This is starting to smell a hell of a lot like coercion with the faintest whiff of bullshit.” Anita grumbled.
Mr. Luthor opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the door opening. Anita was never so happy to see the school’s guidance counselor.
“I’m so sorry!” Miss. McGuire stormed in, her high heels clacking on the old tile and her curly blond hair looking even more frazzled than usual. Her glasses hung like a necklace against her blouse, but those keen blue eyes were both determined and just a touch irate.
“Not at all, I was just—”
“Mr. Luthor, I’m afraid there’s been some mistake.” she interrupted. “We cannot allow one of our students, especially one of our female students, to be left alone without accompaniment.” she said, stressing the obvious predicament they were in.
“I’m certain Mr. Luthor’s intentions are not—” Mr. Davis began.
“Intentions are not our business, Mr. Davis.” Miss McGuire rebutted. “Our business is the safety of our charges, both actual and perceived.”
It was then that Anita realized exactly how bad this would look. She obviously hadn’t wanted to be here, and yet Mr. Davis had cornered her in his office with another man… and then he left her there, alone with him. It made her skin crawl anew.
Now that he was back in magnanimous showman mode, Mr. Luthor only nodded. “Of course, I understand that.”
Anita tried to remember how Mom held herself. The way she spoke and how she behaved. Right now, she needed whatever gumption Mom possessed. She slammed her shoulders back, straightening her spine and holding her chin up from her neck.
“Thank you for your offer, Mr. Luthor, but I’m not interested in being a commodity.” she bit out, walking past him without making any eye contact. She wanted him to feel shelved, ignored, inept. She did meet Mr. Davis’s eyes. Honestly, Mom would probably threaten legal action...but Anita didn’t know if she had that sort of chutzpah. Still, she paused long enough to growl, “Expect a call from my mother.” before stalking out.
She overheard Mr. Davis grumble, “Fantastic.”
She kept walking, turning down another hallway and then jogging to the nearest exit once she was out of sight.
Somehow she still didn’t feel safe. She exhaled heavily, trying not to pant as she leaned back against the doors…. she didn’t want to be dramatic, but… she really just couldn’t make herself go back in there! She pulled out her cell phone and quickly texted Mom.
‘This shit is crazy. You won't even believe.’
She felt some heaviness in her ankles, and had to wonder if that was the pewter...or maybe the bronze. Still, there hadn’t been a lot of bronze there to draw on. Now that she was stationary, it was starting to feel...awkward.
She took a deep, fortifying breath, letting it out slowly. For some reason, this sounded so clear to her. The way you sometimes stuff your ears and listen to yourself breathe...and yet she could still hear everything else.
‘Don’t be surprised if you get a call. I’m on my way home. Mr. Davis threw me in a room with Lex-effin-Luthor for no reason than because Luthor wanted to. You were right, school was a mistake today. I can’t even right now.’
She shook her head again, still completely baffled by what happened. She started her walk home. It’d take a while by foot, but that time would help her clear her head…. she hoped.
…
Six blocks from school, she scuttled into an alleyway when her eyes landed on a free-roaming Superboy.
