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

[controlledvariable]

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.]

Comments

B I GUESS GOSH

[reconnaissance]

"Hey." A smile, brief, as she grabs a bookmark and sets the book down. She's not as precious about books as she used to be, but if she can avoid folding pages? Yeah. (Ever since Fi and Robyn tore Gone With The Wind apart page by page so they could both read it at the same time it has seemed silly to fuss so much about dog ears.)

That's irrelevant. She kind of wants to fiddle with the book, with the pages, because she and Steph have been pretty good at getting each other for a while, and she doesn't seem okay. Or relaxed, at least, not steady the way she normally is, and things never quite bounced back since they kissed. Not that they really had a chance, with just... everything. Ellie's chewing the inside of her cheek as she looks over at Steph. "Good. Planning on doing a marathon this weekend." A thin smile, self mocking, before she sips her tea and glances at Steph. "How are you?"

(d)

[hejhej]

It was super late to be picking up dinner at this time of night, but Jesse and Lisbeth consumed like no one else.

Plus, Stan didn't have anything to eat since that morning. She begrudgingly ordered something for him from the restaurant. But the food finally arrived, Lisbeth paid, and she was finally leaving. The weather was no different than any other night. By the time she reached the corner, she was already soaked to the bone.

However, that was the least of Lisbeth's worries. A group of Exiles was hanging out underneath an awning to a corner cafe to keep out of the rain. It was like Siren's all over again - the random bursts of violence from the natives to those who were brought here against their will, as if their presence was their own choosing.

Lisbeth glanced at them through the corner of her eye.

D

[bumbles]

( For the most part, Exiles haven't reacted to him too badly. Those at the hospital had seen him reinforcing walls, trying to hold the building together, and there had been whispers of Atlas among the Exiles. A couple of days of work couldn't overcome it all, though. At the end of the day he was still a transport, and what they had all tried to do in protecting Exsilium and its people wasn't a get out of jail free card.

There's a mob of them, ten or so, and he's loathed to use his magic against people who are just angry, hurting. Even the quicksand seems like too much, like it will just scare them more and make them more angry, the memory of magic turned against them would only make things worse. One of them swipes at him with a knife, and it melts against his skin.

This would be so much easier to deal with if he wasn't the target of it, honestly. As it is, taking them down feels like overkill. )

D or E, whichever you prefer?

[governorkang]

Despite the increased hostility from the natives, Kang hadn't changed his normal routine, or tried to avoid being seen. He wasn't the type to hide, especially because of something that wasn't his fault, and honestly, he was used to humans not liking him; it felt a bit like home.

He also doubted most of them were stupid enough to try and outright attack him.

Luckily for him, the worst he'd gotten so far was being denied service at a few places, avoidance, and dirty looks. He entered one of the bars, spotting a native that he'd had a few friendly conversations with before, and frowning slightly when said native pointedly glared at him. Kang sighed inwardly and went to the barkeep to order a drink.

d

[velveteened]

( the gradual but sure return of his vision has been a relief, and by now his eyes are near enough to normal that he won't be cooped up - or made to go places with someone - any longer, especially not when it's evening and the sunlight, already scant, is fairly faint.

but of course these places aren't as receptive as they used to be. he's not so hard off in general; with his thoroughly ordinary appearance and locally-bought clothes, it's difficult for anyone to tell straightaway whether he's exile or transport. he's spoken to a great many exiles before, easy chatting to kill time or as he buys their wares, and he's finding out how thin remaining goodwill is starting to wear. no one's ever quite overtly cruel, but he leaves more stalls in the market without what he'd been looking for than with, conversation more awkward where he might've once easily teasingly flirted, and in a notable instance had the door of a shop slam shut scarcely a few centimeters from his fingertips.

though all things considered, he supposes he can't quite blame them. )

she sells c-shells by the c-shore

[skort]

It's very likely that Kara is a workaholic. In the aftermath of the bombs, she's been running to and fro, helping out the rebuilding effort as much as she can. Even though it's a terrible idea, she's taking full advantage of the fact that yellow sunlight makes her essentially self-sufficient. She's not eating more than a snack a day, she's hardly sleeping. From sun up to long after sun down she's working on something, whether it's rebuilding, collating data, trying to figure out where and how to make her own Fortress of Warehouse-itude, or training. Like now.

She does a fair amount of martial arts training. Bruce and Diana would be terribly disappointed in her if she didn't. But there's always the worry of, "Am I going to break this room? If I get a sparring partner, will I break them?" that leaves her feeling inadequate when she does. So she trains extra hard with her weapon, as if that could compensate for her lack of desire to train otherwise.

It's more difficult than she first anticipated, even though she works with it for a few hours everyday. But she is making progress. The little orb-like recording device can now transmit images to her telepathically... provided Kara stays very still, keeps her eyes closed, and concentrates so hard she might give herself a migraine.

It's a start.

She's in another room entirely while Steph trains nearby, hovering over the mats and looking for all the world like she's meditating. The shiny silver orb, on the other hand, is slowly drifting through the halls and rooms. When it comes to the room where Steph is, it stays there, hovering on the edges. Watching. Because that's not creepy at all.

c!!

[paracosmic]

[babydoll trains almost every day, depending on what was happening. her roommates, both of whom she has only really seen once -- she spends a lot of time outside of the apartment -- are both on her radar of "get to know better", but it's not a priority of hers right now. she's sparring with one of the initiative trainers until she motions for him to stop. after learning more hand-to-hand with jack, she's focused on it more intensely with the trainers.

she noticed steph, and that's what had made her stop. her skills had definitely piqued her interest. she wanted someone she didn't have to hold back on, someone who wasn't just focused on training her. friends were better to work with.

she wanders over towards the other girl carefully, keeping her distance, not wanting to interrupt her at first. she likes watching, taking in what steph can do. it's impressive. after a few minutes of watching, she closes more of the distance she had been so specific about making and decides to speak up.]

You're really talented.

[compliments, she'd learned, tend to ease the tension made when first meeting someone.]

c!

[oldsoldiersneverdie]

Being more or less flat on his back for two weeks had done a number on Nate's body. Used to be that he could bounce back from any illness or injury - but then, well, he'd been younger then. And the future medtech he'd had at the time had helped. Which meant that he was stuck doing this the long, hard way.

The morning, he was early enough that he'd expected to be alone - which had the selfish bonus of nobody else having to see how bad his form had gotten, even if he was the only one who knew exactly how badly he was fucking up. But there was a familiar face on the mats, instead. He hesitated at the doorway, debating if he should go try to find some other space or not.

[implying]

He'd had company. A lovely young woman, picked up in some bar or another, who'd been easily charmed past the general negavity Transports have picked up for themselves. She'd found his ears more intriguing than enraging, luckily for Vanadi. He'd then had an arm around her waist and a whisper in her ear, rewarded every couple of seconds by a drunken giggle or two -- but that had been before he'd spotted Stephanie.

No one should be holding an arm like that while they're healthy.

He'd turned to his company and made his heartfelt apologies, complete with a deep and lingering kiss, before hurrying away from her. He's falling into step with Steph a second later, looking concerned.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

D for fellow badasses y?

[ninjamanager]

Charles had decided to take a stroll and survey the damage - physical and social. Hands in the pockets of his long, grey raincoat, he looked like a normal businessman, and therefore, someone decided he'd make a good mugging target. They came at him from a side alley, quickly, and he decided to toy with the thug a little, just to see what he knew. He could handle it at any moment he chose to, but sometimes a lame duck drew better information.

"Wait, stop," he said, tersely. "I don't have anything..."

[motherofnemesis]

It's been a long time since she was any kind of hero, and she certainly doesn't consider herself one now. She's no kind of hero, really.

But she's been going out on the roofs at night every so often, in part just because fights and the running across rooftops at night eases her mind, even if it's tricky and a little dangerous in the almost constant rain. She likes it.

It's hard to miss that there are others out at night too, but she does her best to avoid them. Tonight, though, it's a little bit hard, because she jumped a gap between roofs and looked up and saw one of those people coming straight for the roof she's on. Well, she wasn't always going to be able to avoid it. So she sticks her hands in her pockets and waits, hopes for a quiet exchange of hello's and then heading off again.

d → apologies for lateness, too

[solitaire]

The X-men never really got into the habit of patrolling, and Gambit least of all. But what he is good at is looking for trouble, or running into it. Most of his nights he spends in bars and taverns, even when he isn’t drinking. It’s a good and easy way to keep up on the local gossip, even if the tensions are running high these days. Remy’s okay with high tensions, likes amping them up sometimes just to see what will happen. Tonight he’s already been in a fight or two, his gait a little crooked as he makes his way through the streets. It’s at that point he catches a familiar shadow. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he calls up, “We got ta stop meetin’ like this, petite!”

d → and no, i'm not late, just super early!

[aphrodisiacs]

People jumping from rooftop to rooftop is something she's starting to develop a radar for.

While she doesn't suspect she's alone out here - because she never is, lets face it - she feels high on alert. Wrapping her arms tighter around her, Alisha tries not to quicken her step while also trying to not slow it down. It's an uneven balance that ends with her almost hurrying her way along in search for a place to dine.

Alisha should really know by now that wandering alone has never ended well for her. It won't in the future, anyway. But she does so, because it's something she can control, at least. The places her footsteps fall. The places she sees. The sights and smells and sounds she takes in. She needs to get out of the flat, despite it being nothing but a bit of a dream, and her legs itch for movement.

She's on her way to a cafe, though she's not quite sure which one. This is part of her exploration of the city, going out late at night rather in the day. She has to be stupid sometimes, just to fill that quota.