exsiliumlogs | [open] The terrible things that happened to you, didn't make you you

Entry tags:

[open] The terrible things that happened to you, didn't make you you

Date & Time: From the 25th - early July
Location: Everywhere~
Characters: Stephanie Brown and you
Summary: Steph does stuff. Mostly training and Batgirling around
Warnings: Injuries, violence, dumb feelings.
Notes: Prose or actionspam is fine, hit me up if you would like to sort out something specific

a → closed for Vanadi

Everything is terrible, and she's an idiot, and all she wants to do is throw herself into something just to stop thinking for a little while, as if that might stop her from feeling so damn guilty . With the way things are with the Exiles, Steph knows better than to take her frustrations out on them, justified or not, so she heads to the training centre, instead. It's not really fair to force her anger onto a sparring partner, either, so she decides to turn her energy towards the vault, beam and bars.

It goes well, for a while. She's throwing herself into it a little too hard, trying to pull of moves that are a little too complicated, dangerous, especially for someone her height, but the rush of adrenalin and building confidence at every successful trick is helping, bit by bit. For a little while, she just loses herself in the motion of it, her attention focused entirely on one movement to the next.

There are more than her fair share of falls, slipped grips on the bars, crashing into the mats after the vault, burns on her leg from the beam. It's nothing too serious, until she's trying to pull off a Geinger, proceeds to miss the catch, and goes crashing into the ground, landing with almost all her weight on her left shoulder. The sound of it dislocating is unmistakable, by this point. The feel of it dislocating is something she'll never forget, and she bites back a pained cry, pushing herself onto her back and just taking a moment to breathe through the pain.

It takes her a little while to find the energy to get up, but she manages to push herself to her feet and start towards the clinic, holding her arm awkwardly across her torso to try to keep it from moving and jarring too much.

b → closed to Ellie

They need to talk. They really need to talk, but Steph has been dreading it in equal parts, because she's scared she's going to do something stupid like blurt out the fact she kissed Saul. She tells herself that she won't, that it'll be fine, but still ends up nearly having a panic attack as she tries to make coffee for them both. Ellie is curled up with a book, she's not sick anymore, Jim and Leonard aren't home, which makes this the perfect time for it.

In the end, she makes tea instead of coffee, realizing that she doesn't need that much caffeine on top of the nerves, and that Ellie tends to prefer tea, anyway. For a moment, she just stares at the mugs, forcing herself to calm down, before picking them up and heading over to Ellie.

"Hey," She offers one of the mugs, waiting until Ellie accepts it before curling up beside her on the couch, "How're you feeling today?"

c → Training

Once her shoulder is sufficiently healed enough - by her standards, rather than those of an actual medical professional - she throws herself back into training. With another older Bat here (one she's always been equal parts admired and been terrified of), she feels like she has to up her game, make sure that she's doing everything she can to be as good as she can, and it helps that training is a good way to distract herself from all the thoughts twisted up in her head. Violence has always been cathartic, and it doesn't let her down, now, when she can hit things and get hit and ignore the guilt for a little while. If she pushes herself hard enough, it means she can just collapse at the end of the day, instead of lying awake for hours.

A lot of the time she trains in her Batgirl uniform, wanting to keep working on the sentience, on upgrading it and getting it to evolve so that she can be of more use on missions. And because it's kind of fascinating, discovering new things she can do with her suit, with her utility belt and all the tech in her cowl. She misses the Batcave with its extensive obstacle courses and training robots, and she wonders if she should check out the VR room at the Hold, one day. She's not sure she trusts it, though, so for now the physical training rooms will have to do, and she makes use of almost everything there at her disposal. Sometimes, she goes in civvies, not wanting to come to rely too heavily on her suit. Those days she tends to focus on gymnastics, easing herself back into things to make sure she does wreck her shoulder again so soon.

No matter how she's dressed, she spends a lot of time around the areas set up for sparring, and is more than happy to go a round or two with someone other than the Initiative trainers.

d → Patrol

With the degradation of Transport/Exiles relations, Steph increases her patrolling, spending more time out at night and trying to cover as much ground as she can over the city entirely, rather than focusing on the more criminal parts. There are still the usual sorts of things to keep an eye on, drug deals, muggings, drunken brawls, but for now her primary focus is on the areas that Transports frequent, bars and restaurants and cafes that tend to draw their patronage. It's not that she isn't aware most Transports can't take of themselves, God knows the Initiative mostly got things right when it comes to wanting soldiers, but that doesn't mean there aren't people that do need someone keeping an eye out for them.

She's a silent shadow, mostly, flitting from rooftop to rooftop as she watches for any disturbances below.

e → Wildcard

[OOC: For anything else your heart might desire.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( Don't lie. It's written across his face, even if he says nothing, before he jerks his head in a nod, grants her permission to go on.

Resisting the urge to shrug is a good thing, though. )

[She's not sure what's up with him right now, but it can be dealt wiht later.

For now, Steph sets to work silently, working confidently and with the ease of someone who's not only done this before, but also had to work on a patient who hasn't been given painkillers. She's trying to minimize the pain as much as she can.

Once the bullet is out, she unceremoniously lets it drop on the table, the forceps with it. Then she washes the wound clean, before getting out the needle and surgical thread.]

I'm gonna need to stitch this up.

[Just giving him a heads up.]

( Thank God she's good at this. His pain tolerance is high, and he trains himself to make no sound, but that doesn't mean he's not grateful for the care and the skill. He glances her way, something grateful in his gaze. )

Okay.

( Very quietly, inhaled with a tight breath. Good, good to go. ) I'm ready.

( His uninjured arm is dedicated to a thumbs up. )

[Well, that's marginally better, even if she's still not sure why he seems so grumpy at her.]

It'll be quick, promise.

[She flashes him a smile, all Robin confidence, before setting to work again. She is quick, but steady and careful, stitching up the wound neatly before putting antiseptic and a dressing on top.

She doesn't speak again until her gloves are peeled off and she's leaning back in her chair.]

How's it feel?

( Silent, still, controlling his expression as best he can to keep from wincing but not quite managing to eliminate the twist in his expression.

And then, a slow exhale, before he looks down. )

G-good work.

( Considering all his stitching skill. A moment longer of examination, and he's pushing himself out of his chair. ) Thanks. I'll g-get out of your hair.

( Where'd he put his mask. )

Thanks.

[It's genuine, because even if she's confident in her skills, it's always nice to hear that she's done a good job.

Though she frowns at his next comment.]

Okay, can you just-- [She's not sure where she's going with that.] Can you talk to me? 'Cause I feel like I've done something wrong and I'm not entirey sure what it is.

[She was a dick about the whole family thing, and it was awkward, but she thought they were passed that.]

I'm n-not-- not a t-talkative guy.

( Very softly. His jaw tightens as he slowly turns to face her a little more, again. )

P-people think Adonis C-- C-Casey is an idiot. And you m-made it clear you d-- you d-do, too.

( It's strange, speaking like this when he has his uniform, being so much more assertive when its his voice, but he's not really thinking about it. Maybe it's the pain, and that it's easier to speak right now than just hold silent and try to move out without addressing it. It's not like she couldn't just follow, and faster than him right now, too. )

[The confusion is pretty clear, since she looks like he might have just stopped speaking in English.]

What?

[Really, what? Because she can't figure out how on Earth she made it clear that she thinks his stupid. She's been kind of a jerk accidentally, and things have been occasionally awkward, but she's been trying to be nice to him.]

I don't think you're stupid.

[Not even a little.]

( She never said it, never even suggested it, and yet insults are stitched into his skin so thoroughly that he wonders if self-doubt is the only thing that holds him together, if he needs those things to define him and make Adonis Casey what he is. Maybe he deserves to feel that way, maybe it's better that he has some manner of glue and some stability in his life. It's a bitter thought, acidic and sharp on his tongue. )

N-no?

( He doesn't believe it, that much is clear from his face. ) I'm j-just the idiot that thinks m-my family's important and c-can't handle a b-bunch of civilians on his own.

( Right?

It's so childish but she saw Adonis and Atlas as the same person. More frustrated with himself than her, ) D-Donny is an idiot, b-but I can-- I can d-do my job.

( She doesn't need to condemn him, when he's so good at it. )

[She nearly says what again, but manages to shut her mouth instead of leaving it hanging open in surprise, knowing that it wouldn't be helpful.]

That's not what I meant about family. I apologized. [Which he doesn't have to accept, but it seemed like it did, and now apparently he's been under the impression that she thinks he's an idiot.] And I don't-- I was helping a friend. Wouldn't you have done the same?

[What was she supposed to do? Sit by and watch? She might do that with peope like Cass, who she knows could handle literally anything, but even then she'd probably help just because it's the proper thing to do.]

You're not an idiot.

[This is so weird.]

That's d-- it's d-different.

( What she's saying is logical. It's reasonable, and it makes sense, but she knows about Adonis and when all that is stacked up, little things and the ways he picks himself apart all on his own, everything starts to fall away. )

D-don't-- ( He shakes his head, gesture meant to clear his thoughts instead of denying that he'd help her, because he would. But that's different, because he knows she can handle it and would have her back, where she nows the weakness underneath Atlas and is underestimating him, where she has to think he's an idiot. That's what he is, that's the truth, but Atlas is different. )

Don't think that Adonis m-makes Atlas w-weak. N-no one-- no one w-was meant t-to know.

( Desperation sinking in. She can be Stephanie Brown and the Bat, and that's fine, but Adonis and Atlas are something else. Some part of him can recognise he's being irrational, unfair, but it's not a part he'll give a voice right now. )

I don't.

[It had never crossed her mind, that just because the boy underneath the mask was quiet and awkward, that it would make Atlas any less effective as a vigilante.

She'd been worried about him, because whenever people have such divides like that between their identities it never seems healthy, but she never thought it made Atlas weak.

But she's smart enough to figure out where this is coming from, now.]

Just 'cause you feel that way doesn't mean everyone else does. That's you, not me.

[Just because he thinks he's weak and stupid, the way he talked about the other guy and how ashamed he is of himself. She should be gentler about it, because she does feel sorry for him, that he hates himself so much, but he's got her hackles up with the accusation. What sort of person does he think she is, that she'd suddenly stop trusting an ally just because he's - what, got a stutter and isn't good at dealing with people?

It feels like an insult.]

What else w-would they think?

( Bitten out. Donny hardly ever sounds angry, but it rears up then.

Atlas shouldn't speak. He's halfway to saying something else when that thought snaps through his mind. A painful twist threatens his mouth, before he's turning away and grabbing up his mask, pulling it back on.

There's no other conclusion they could come to. Adonis would be better if he were invisible, but instead he's infecting the waters. That it's insulting, underestimates and dismisses the empathy and understanding of the people he values and works with hasn't really occurred to him, because everything is always so twisted up. )

Oh, I don't know, maybe I'm not a judgemental dick and actually think you're an okay dude.

[Sarcasm probably isn't the best way to deal with this situation, but it's always been something she defaults to when she's upset.]

Edited 2013-08-02 06:15 (UTC)

( The Bat is too difficult to deal with, sometimes. No: this is too difficult to deal with, this uncomfortable clash of who he is with and without his mask. Donny - no, Atlas, he has to be Atlas - shakes his head, starting to move towards the door. With the mask back in place, he attempts to slip back into sign, never mind the pain. )

Thank you.

( For the help. The rest of it-- how do you begin to address that? )

[Fuck this.]

Is that seriously it? You're just gonna accuse me of being a bitch and then walk away?

[Those weren't his words, and Donny seems like the kind of person who wouldn't ever use that sort of language, but the implication was there.

She thinks he's stupid and weak, because apparently she's the sort of person who's shallow enough to judge someone on bullshit like whether they stutter or that they're really awkward around people.]

( Jarring is the only word for that. Atlas twists, staring at her for a few seconds. )

I n-- I n-never said that. ( Forget signing, for this. He'd never call her that, never think it, and yet. There's all of this.)

It's j-just-- just w-what people think. It's h-how they are. And it's n-not-- it's not them b-being wrong, it's just--

( His voice strains with it, thready and too weak. Be silent. This is the truth of it: he is a wreaked thing, weak, but Atlas can be different. ) I d-don't--

( "I don't work." His fingers pull through his hair, frustrated, while his other arm is awkwardly held by his side.)

And I never said you were stupid!

[See how that works, Donny?

But her expression softens at the rest of what he says, and she closes the distance between them, trying to meet his gaze]

Look, I get it, I do. I mean-- I can't imagine what shit you've had to put up with, but it isn't your fault, it's not 'cause you're a bad person or stupid or weak. It's people being shitty, and anyone who's treated you badly deserves a punch in the teeth.

[She can't imagine how much he must've been bullied as a kid, and it doesn't take a genius to realize he's internalized all that shit.]

Don't blame yourself for how awful people might've been.

D-don't-- don't have t-to.

( Close to silent, head bowed and really, it might seem a little like he's talking to the floor, for how good he is at this whole communication thing. Atlas is slipping away, posture slumping a little. It's so difficult when Atlas and Adonis start to overlap, when the careful barriers start crumbling. She doesn't have to say he's stupid because he's heard it enough times.

All roads lead to judgement, really. It's self-absorbed, egocentric and assumes the worst of everyone he meets, even as he talks about people being good, better. Maybe it's just that he deserves it, and that way people can still be good and kind, even if they leave him a mess. It makes the things she's saying uncomfortable. )

That m-- m-many p-people can't uh, can't b-be wrong.

( To put it one way. No, he shakes his head, tries to force his back straighter. Snap out of it. Pathetic. )

You wanna say that to a girl who's had everyone say it was her fault she got raped. Or a black person who's had to put up with racist bullshit all their life?

[It's not quite the same, except for how it is, especially with the shit that surrounds stutters.

Anyway, she thinks it'll get the point across.]

( That's-- that is so unfair. He looks like he's been slapped, the way he looks at her, like he can't breathe. )

What--

( What the fuck? What are you talking about? What is wrong with you?
Donny can't fathom it. For him, it's not on the same level at all, it's not comparable, and he's just staring at her for a few seconds as the shock and the guilt and yeah, the anger, from what she said all start to filter through. )

Those are t-- t-totally d-different.

( Quiet, but it's in part because of the anxiety rattling his chest and tightening his ribs. )

Are they? [She ignores the flicker of guilt at his expression, because it seems like being nice to him really isn't gonna make any of this actually get through.] Why do people think you're stupid?

[Think about it.]

B-because I am!

( There. Is that what she wanted to hear? Is that what she wanted him to admit? That yes, he is stupid, and he knows it? That so many things bewilder him, that it takes him a long time to read, that he barely scrapes passes in his classes? )

It's n-not-- it's not a l-leap.

( It's just the way it is. )

[She kind of wants to throw something at him, but she tries not to be that sort of person.]

That's not where I was going with that.

[She has to take a step back, turn her frustration into pacing back and forth across the room, because she's got her dad's temper, and she doesn't ever want to be him.]

( He turns so he can lean his forehead against the wall, but his mask is in the way. Atlas. The mask is meant to mean he's Atlas, and yet he's let all this unfold. His cheek, at least, can press against the wall.

A drawn out moment skips by him. Or is he being dragged past time, instead, some undertow threatening to pull him under? There's that pang of anxiety, panic, adrenaline surging because something very wrong is about to happen or is happening already. )

Forget it.

( This. Or something, he doesn't really know. ) What-- what d-do you want m-me to do?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject