capeandcowl2020 | Open Post 001

[ her eyes shoot open when he commands her and she almost snarls. despite everything, her pride refuses to allow her to be told what to do, and her lip curls back but that doesn't stop her from moving for him when he falls. she's confused and she's angry and upset and she's crouching beside him, wavering between yelling at him and begging for him to stop.

(the latter is unlikely.)

so she goes with what she's used to: ]

I do not need to explain myself to you, surface dweller. [ she's hurting and confused and scared and that just makes her angrier ] I want to see him.

[ he was expecting something scathing about he didn't give a fuck, so that response throws him off.

oh.

edward nygma dead. well. fuck. ]

... Sorry about Nygma, bro. [ feels strange to call eridan that again. ]

Khisanth started working for the government. After they caught her. I've pretty much given the fuck up on trusting people since then. [ he really hates to admit it, but he'd gotten pretty attached to khisanth. she hadn't been a friend, but she'd been something. he'd respected her. she'd been the closest thing he and gamzee had had to a guardian figure in this hell. the bitterness in his voice is heavy.

wait. ]

You found Rose? She's alive? Have you found any of the other humans? Who else are you in contact with?

[to his credit, Eridan almost manages to control his expression as she sits down. mostly by focusing on how irritated he is at that good liquor going to waste. his mouth twitches at the hand on his horn.

and then she speaks, and he burns purple. he swallows, unintentionally, and doesn't meet her eyes.]

You're really projectin' here, Rose.

[his hands set, lightly, on her knees. his nails press until he knows there's blood.]

It's kinda sad.

[ her breath hitches when his nails dig into her knees, the pain tolerable, but not enough for her to keep from reacting. she can feel the warm liquid trickling down her bare legs, the hand on his horn gripping tightly now, running her nails along its curve. ]

Hmm.

[ she brushes her other hand along his neck, tracing her fingers along the skin almost lazily, keeping her composure as best as she can ]

A needy, desperate, fallen from grace angel that no one takes seriously. Reaching too hard to be the supervillain that you know is beyond your grasp. You really are your father's son, aren't you?

[his eyes meet hers, wide in shock - and then burn. growling low in his throat, Eridan fists the front of her shirt and drags Rose down to his level; forehead to forehead, not mindful enough to keep their heads from knocking together in the process, and he snarls against her mouth.]

You're such a bitch.

[his free hand slides up her leg nonetheless.]

Maybe you weren't just projectin' after all.

[of course he knows why he keeps her around, or why he hopes she keeps him around. why he's just rude enough, but never unforgivably so. why he gave her a key.

it's because some part of him likes this, and because apart from the occasional drop-in by Quentin, she's really all he has.]

Karkat spends too much time with his face angled toward the ground to get the greatest look at where he was going. He tried to avoid bumping into people- attracting attention to himself was the opposite of what he was trying to do- but sometimes it was inevitable.

And so, he doesn't see the other hooded, furtive figure until he all but walks directly over the top of them.

"Shit!"

[ the reaction wasn't unexpected -- in fact, she had planned for this. everything she says, every button she pokes, carefully thought out like a puppet master playing. she doesn't mind when he grabs her or when he knocks his head against hers, even hums a little when he presses his mouth to hers. Rose even hums a little, mockingly ]

On the couch, Eridan? How uncouth.

[ when his leg moves against her leg, she kisses him, tenderly and softly, lacking all of the violence and hate that their relationship consists of, simply because she knows how much it riles him up. she nips at his lips before pulling back, murmuring softly: ]

How often do you think about him?

A younger Julian, a Julian with a firmer grasp on the here and now would have instantly reached out and grabbed the watch. He stared at it instead, trying to remember - but of course, he had used technology. He'd always preferred paper, but such a thing would be so easy to hide, so easy to conceal.

"Thank you, it's just what I wanted."

He lifted his hand and hesitated for a second as if the watch were no more than a mirage. Then he reached for it, looking from Jon to the Watch and back again, half convinced they'd both disappear.

Time wasn't fair, and nothing got easier. Helena felt the aches and pains the same way Dick did, though she made it a personally policy not to complain. He had enough on his mind to have to consider the way her body had changed in the last decade.

She had an obligation to this. It wasn't just to him, it was to the City, to the world. Back home, in her real home, she'd once been willing to put away Helena Wayne for the rest of her life if it meant that the Huntress could live. And here she was again, teetering on the edge of the decision, pondering if the sacrifice was worth the reward. Could she survive as the Huntress alone? Could Dick?

Could Liam? Could she do that to Liam?

She tried to set those concerns aside for now, focusing instead on the night ahead. She had to be better than ever, sharp like a knife and quick as a cat. Each mission, each night out was life or death. And Helena wasn't about to go dying now. Pulling a glove on, she turned her attention to her bow, almost lovingly petting the weapon. Perfection. Just like it needed to be.

"Are you ready, Batman?"

"Liam is fine." There was an audible hint of pride in her voice, despite him being Dick's son and not hers. What exactly she was to the boy was technically up in the air. Something between an aunt and a mother, she assumed. Just the way she was something between a sister and a wife to Dick. It was never wise to dwell on titles in their relationships. Liam was Dick's, sure, but Helena loved him just as fiercely. There was no denying the maternal instinct that was now so closely associated with the boy.

Snorting softly between stitches, she added, "He's come out of his shell quite a bit. He might even be glad to see you."

He's not even real! [ The insistence comes even when Marc feels the strong proof otherwise. He clutches at his head, grinding his teeth, trying to hold himself secure, but his next words carry that heavy New York accent. ]

Get 'way, please...

Evan wiggled his fingers in a slow wave, smirking at Trickster. "Pleased as a peach he is, look at that. And it's about time. Wonder what Cold'll do if he says he's nae going to join up again. Och, that we are, James, how's your tightrope treatin' ya?"

He reached through the glass to off Trickster the extra beer he'd brought.

"Thirsty? Bet ya didnae think the Rogues would come callin' again, did ya?"

Norman smirked, stepping back and getting a firmer grip on his pistol. "Do you mean you? If you miss me that much, it's not too late. I can get you a pardon if you ask nicely."

His thumb flicked the hammer of the gun back with a click. "I'd rather not shoot you, besides. But Bellatrix; true power is on the horizon. It's beyond either side of this petty feud. But one must embrace the power if they're ever to wield it."

[ Namora catches the accent, recognizes it and immediately reaches out for him, grabbing his hands in hers, pressing her palms against them as he holds his head. she crouching over him now, murmuring: ]

Jake? Jake, is that you? It is me, Namora. Please...

You don't think I'm a prince. Why should I hawe to act like one?

[and then she's kissing him, and it's entirely lacking - like all the little pecks in public, picture perfect, positively revolting. she knows it. she knows how much he hates it. she pulls back, and he glares up at her.]

You wanna talk about him right now?

"And any of these others, if you'd like. I'm not going to do anything with them..." Bob passed the book over again so it could be looked through, though there were only about a dozen or so non-blank pages. He brushed his hair from his face idly.

"I remember I... was thinking about the sun," he said slowly, glancing upward into the darkness. "And what a change it makes when it's out. But in space, everything is just darkness with little sparkles of light from the stars and galaxies, like pins on a black poster."

[he grunts in response to... well, it isn't exactly clear what he's referring to, but it isn't until the comment about Rose he speaks again.]

Rose is doin' pretty well for herself, actually. Seer bullshit. Couldn't keep track a anybody else, though.

[ she brushes her lips against the corner of his mouth with an amused: ]

"It is not titles that honor men, but men that honor titles." [ and then sliding her hand along his horn just to tease him. she doesn't mind, actually, playing this game. it's fun for her, like someone playing solitaire to kill time. ]

I wouldn't bring him up if I didn't, Eridan. Answer the question. Do you stay up late at night, thinking about him?

[ His breath catches, and his exhale grinds out with a snarl of a sound. Marc hates this. He hates it so much. That was all Marc was good for.

It's Jake who breaths in next, and his voice shudders out. ]

I-it's all mixed up...

With a gun muzzle in his mouth, Eddie thrust the syringe into Norman's cheek and pressed down the injection thumb like a detonator. He had no time but that second to react, or Norman would make good on his promise. Biting down on the metal muzzle, he watched as the clear (yet surprisingly thick) fluid seeped into Norman's flesh.

And for the first time since Norman stalked his trail, Edward smiled.

[momentarily put off, his head thumps against the back of the couch or whatever he's sitting on leave me alone.]

He's my father. Was. Whatewer. Or at least close enough to suffice for it. He treated me well, for as much of a little shit I used to be. And he probably went out horrible.

[his eyes slide closed, tired.]

What do you think?

The hug jolted him, surprised him. Human contact like this was so foreign to him. He took a moment before responding in kind, mirroring the motion. Two narratives ran his mind, one stricken by the traitorous touch (Katurian-born) and one burning with familiarity, recognition. He remembered Eridan, he remembered these emotions.

"Arkady, then."

The name resonated from his teeth.

"And they did, almost. I was captured for -- a year, it's been over a year. I've been gone for over a year."

[ she's slipping her fingers around his, tugging his hands away from his temples and trying to look him in the eyes. her voice is almost pleading, softening: ]

Let me help. Let me help you, Jake. I will not let anything happen to you. I promised.

[ she's so confused though. ]

Khonshu took the invitation almost greedy, but quickly found there wasn't too much else to admire. There were similar pieces to the dark one Khonshu had been given, but also several of women -- no, it was the same woman, just in variations.

"I see," said Khonshu, his head cocked -- birdlike -- as he flipped between the pictures of the woman. Whether she was an attachment to Ra or to his mortal form, he could not be certain. These, he would not take. They were intimate in a way which did not belong to him. It would be best not to invade this idea; it would only serve to bother him.

He handed the book back, and he kept only his image of the sun. "Balance," he added, belatedly remarking on the explanation he was given. "Sunlight and moonlight."

[ her hands drop and she loops them around his shoulders, settling into lean against him. ]

I'm surprised you weren't prepared for this. A man like him, constantly terrorizing and instigating others -- he should've have died much, much sooner.

[ her eyes flash light for a moment before returning to their lavender hue and she smiles. ]

It was probably brutal and torturous. He probably died crying.

Open Post 001

YEAH I KNOW <:

please save me from my emotions

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/snugs

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all of my tears tbh

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