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exsiliumlogs2013-11-16 11:12 pm
controlledvariable) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-11-16 11:12 pm
[various] "secretly you love this, do you even wanna go free?"
Date & Time: 16th - 27thth; various
Location: all about the moon base
Characters: Steph, Saul, Jesse, Dick, Max Kearney, YOU
Summary: Steph's working against the mutiny and mostly having her trauma buttons pushed + aftermath
Warnings: Claustrophobia, panic attacks, someone's mind being messed with, discussion of sexual assault, violence, death, references to child abuse. I meant what I said about trauma buttons.
Notes: There's an open section for anyone who wants to run into Steph, whatever side they're on (or if they're neutral)! If you'd like something more specific, hit me up and we can work it out.
→ Saul and Jesse; 16th; 0400 hours
[So far, she's had no problems with the teleportation power that Jesse gave her; it's simple to use, all she has to do is imagine where she wants to be, and there she is. It means that as soon as she thinks transporter room and ends up in pitch black darkness, she knows that something has gone very wrong. Her first instinct is to try teleporting out, but she ignores it for the moment, knowing it's better to take stock of the situation before making any rash moves. She breathes in and focuses for a second, feeling the room around her. The air is cramped, stale, which means it's small and poorly ventilated, and there's no light source anywhere.
And now that she's paying attention, she can pick up the sickly smell of very, very old corpses.
It's all downhill from there.
Her fingers scrambled at her belt as she pulls out a torch, turning it on and shining it around the room; it's as small as she expected, three of the four walls smooth, but the final one has what looks like it might have been a door, once, but the metal is warped and twisted almost beyond recognition, and when she roughly shoves her shoulder against it, the thing doesn't even budge. The fact she's alone is only a small comfort, and she can already feel panic starting to rise in her chest.
Now she tries to teleport out, but nothing happens, as if she doesn't have the power at all.
She's trapped.
For a few long moments, she's frozen in fear, breath coming short and shallow as the light from the torch flickers, and she's terrified it's going to run out and leave her in the dark, before she realizes it's flickering because her hand is shaking so badly.]
C'mon, Brown.
[It's barely a mutter, her grip tightening on the torch and her other hand curling into a fist, gloved fingers digging into her palm.
That was a stupid move, because as soon as she's made a fist, she lashes out at the door, as if it might force it open, but all that happens is pain shoots through her knuckles and jars her arm. But she can't keep it together after that; she drops the torch and shoves both hands against the door. There's no metal, suddenly, no cloying smell of decaying bodies, just wood under her hands and the sound of her father shouting at her mom, or at her, muffled through the closet door as she scrambles at the wood and tries to push it open. It doesn't matter that there was never enough room in the closet to get a run up, to stretch her arms out and push on creaking metal, because the memories are so vivid and the panic so sharp that it's all she can see.
She loses track of time, all she can hear is her ragged, panicked breathing and her heartbeat in her ears and the thunk of metal as she tries to force her way out.
It isn't until she takes as much of a run up as she can and barges her shoulder against the door that she snaps out of the panicked haze, and that's only because the pain cuts through it so sharply, along with the sickening sound of her shoulder dislocating.
Between the fear and the pain, it's enough to make tears prick at her eyes, and she punches the door one last time out of sheer anger at how terrified she is, before leaning back against it and sinking to the floor, arm cradled across her chest. She digs the fingers of her other hand against her closed eyelids, trying to fight back tears and panic; that's not going to get her out of this, but she can't focus past that stupid, ingrained fear.
She tries to teleport again, and lets out a strangled sob when it doesn't work.
But while she hasn't calmed down, not by a long shot, if she focuses on the pain in her shoulder she can actually move past the panic, at least enough to start thinking of solutions.
The network is down, but--
There's a muttered string of curses, mostly self-flagellation for being so stupid. She has her communicator in her cowl, and Babs helped her fix it up so that it'll connect to both Babs' communicators, and to Saul's bluetooth earpiece. She should call Babs, but the communicator is part of her suit, which mean it's part of her weapon, so as soon as she remembers it's possible, it starts trying to reach to Saul.
She doesn't even realize she's murmuring please pick up over and over again.]
→OTA; 16th-18th; from 1200 to 1200 hours
[Once she's calmed down from the teleportation misadventure (and had a quick nap, at both Saul and Babs' request), Steph gets to work on fixing this damn problem. It's a little tricky for those first few hours while the gravity is still all over the place, but she adapts well enough. Her first priority is securing the spaceship, because if the Transporter room is out of reach, there's no way she's losing their other only option of getting the hell off this base, should something go wrong. As soon as she's happy with that, she starts on the long list of other problems that need fixing.
The lights and network are still down and the doors aren't under control; the latter two are the real problems, since it's tricky to communicate and get places with those systems offline. The doors don't bother Steph so much, except she's a little more cautious about teleporting places, mostly going places she's sure of, rather than trying anything too tricky and risking ending up trapped again.
Still, she moves around a lot, dropping into the housing wings occasionally to make sure everyone is doing alright, before heading out to do what she can about the technical problems. She's not, well, Babs, but if there's wiring that can be fixed or systems that can be hacked and taken over, she'll be making an effort to manage it, with varying degrees of success. As she goes (before the lights are back online) she sticks emergency work lights to the walls and over any working doors, to help people move through the base; they're from her belt, and the batteries will only last a few hours, but it's better than nothing.
She very rarely takes breaks, popping into the cafeteria long enough to grab something quick and easy to eat, or finding a spot near where Babs and Saul are set up to catch a few minutes of sleep. She's more likely to stop to talk to people, trying to coordinate efforts to get systems back online, or to figure out more of what, exactly, is going on. But her main priority is action, leaving the organization to people who are better at it. This isn't like the zombies, where she was willing to trust other people to hold down the fort, if she needed a break.
She doesn't know who she can trust or not, but she's moving about the base with purpose, and from the snippets of conversation that can be caught as she speaks into the earpiece in her cowl, it's clear she's trying to fix this. And it's clear she's not impressed with the situation, judging by the angry mutters and tension in her posture that never quite seems to leave.]
→Max Kearny; 19th; 0120 hours
[As soon as they've got the doors back online, she gives a curt goodbye to Jaime and Batwoman, then disappears towards the Transporter room. She knows she could likely take them with her, but once she's scoped out the situation she wants to go and get Jesse so he can disable anyone with powers, and she's not sure if there's a limit on how many she can carry.
Anyway, first things first, and that's reappearing in the housing wing a reasonable distance from the Transporter room, since she isn't entirely sure how far the field of... redirection magic extends, and she really doesn't want to end up trapped again. It's little further than she'd like to be, but it gives her a chance to sneak close and check things out before throwing herself into a fight, and hopefully there'll be less guards down this way.
That doesn't mean it won't be guarded at all, but when the only person she sees down the end of the hall is Max, she figures it's something she can handle herself, if this turns bad. Max is good, Steph's seen her fight, but she's good, too. And she's got anger behind her, which is always an advantage, so long as she channels it right.
Her hand goes to her staff, though she doesn't pull it free from her belt just yet.]
Please tell me you haven't thrown your lot in with these idiots.
[She does, actually, like Max. And anger aside, Steph doesn't want to hurt her friends, even when they're being completely fucking stupid.]
→ Dick Grayson + Saul Goodman; 19th; 0145 hours
[Max told her to find somewhere safe to wait this out, and Steph doesn't see any reason not to do it; she has no interest in this fight, even though she's sure she cared about the outcome a few minutes ago. But it doesn't matter, if she's stopped caring, it can't have been that important, so she tucks her staff back onto her belt and teleports back to the Housing wing. It should be safe there, out of the way, and anyway, she's kind of tired (when was the last time she slept?) so going to her room to take a nap doesn't seem like a bad idea.
She starts peeling off the Batgirl suit as she goes, tucking the gloves into her belt and folding the cape and cowl over an arm. The whole thing's heavy, and all that armor and symbolism seems a bit pointless. It really can't all be that important.]
→ Sonya Karimov; 19th; sometime between 0200 and 0230
[Saul tells her to stay put, but he's busy trying to co-ordinate something - she really wasn't paying attention to the details - and she really is kind of tired (and hungry; seriously, when was the last time she slept or ate?) so she decides to go find somewhere to take a nap. Saul might wonder where she's got to, but that doesn't really matter, it's not her problem, and anyway, she doesn't want to deal with someone being so... weird. About her.
It's easy enough to slip away, especially when so many people are heading in the opposite direction, towards the transporter room, since apparently something important is happening in there. Well, she knows what's happening, they're trying to take back the Transporter from the people who decided to have themselves a little mutiny, but none of it really matters. Who cares who's in control of the Transporter? It's not like it's going to change anything.
Someone runs past her, and she turns to watch them, before shaking her head and heading on her way again. At which point she bumps into someone.]
Sorry.
[It's an automatic response, she doesn't really care enough to be sorry, and she's already moving again without really acknowledging whoever it was.]
→ Saul; sometime fuck if I know
[As soon as she leaves Sonya, Steph reappears in her own, empty room. There's no cursory glance around to see if Ellie or Joel or Tess might have been around recently; they're not here, but it doesn't concern her beyond that. No matter how much she should be worride.
The only thing she really thinks is that she can finally get some rest. There's no relief behind it, but her body is exhausted after the past few days of barely sleeping, and it makes sense to her, that she should rest.
With her shoes kicked off and no worries to occupy her thoughts the way they normally do, she's asleep almost instantly.]
→ Ellie; sometime after the 21st
[The first couple of nights after... everything, she can't go back to her room. She knows she should, but all she does is send Ellie a text to let her know that she's going to be staying somewhere else for a while. She needs the familiar comfort of Babs, or Saul, or the feeling of safety that Jesse offers purely by existing and having the powers he does.
No one can do anything like that her again, so long as she's near him.
But she can't avoid her room forever, and she can't avoid Ellie forever; Steph needs to make sure that she's alright, after everything that happened. When she slinks into the room, she's not Batgirl anymore, dressed in tights, a tank top, and a rumpled, bright blue business shirt that looks at least three sizes too big for her. She feels guilty for having been away for so long, even if it's only been a few days, so her voice is a little hesitant when she speaks up.]
Hey, kiddo.
[Please don't be mad.]
→ Peter Rumancek; 25th ; late
[She tells Peter to come meet her in the VR room, and heads there to wait, wanting a few moments alone before she has to be around another person. It gives her time to set up the simulation, choosing something... completely different from anything she's made before.
The Guban plains are cold at night, but the bite of it is welcome, as is the sheer stretch of emptiness as far as the eye can see, interrupted only by sparse scrub and boulders, the sound of a stream in the distance. Last time she was here there were medical tents set up, vehicles parked and people miling about, but right now it's empty except for her.
She brought two glasses along with the bottle of tequila, and she forced herself to focus long enough to make a few sandwiches for them both, so they're not drinking on an empty stomach, and because she's noticed that Peter's been losing weight while on the moon.
She won't start drinking without him, but she does start on one half of a sandwich, picking at it slowly while she waits, trying to find something comforting in the fake night air.]
Location: all about the moon base
Characters: Steph, Saul, Jesse, Dick, Max Kearney, YOU
Summary: Steph's working against the mutiny and mostly having her trauma buttons pushed + aftermath
Warnings: Claustrophobia, panic attacks, someone's mind being messed with, discussion of sexual assault, violence, death, references to child abuse. I meant what I said about trauma buttons.
Notes: There's an open section for anyone who wants to run into Steph, whatever side they're on (or if they're neutral)! If you'd like something more specific, hit me up and we can work it out.
→ Saul and Jesse; 16th; 0400 hours
[So far, she's had no problems with the teleportation power that Jesse gave her; it's simple to use, all she has to do is imagine where she wants to be, and there she is. It means that as soon as she thinks transporter room and ends up in pitch black darkness, she knows that something has gone very wrong. Her first instinct is to try teleporting out, but she ignores it for the moment, knowing it's better to take stock of the situation before making any rash moves. She breathes in and focuses for a second, feeling the room around her. The air is cramped, stale, which means it's small and poorly ventilated, and there's no light source anywhere.
And now that she's paying attention, she can pick up the sickly smell of very, very old corpses.
It's all downhill from there.
Her fingers scrambled at her belt as she pulls out a torch, turning it on and shining it around the room; it's as small as she expected, three of the four walls smooth, but the final one has what looks like it might have been a door, once, but the metal is warped and twisted almost beyond recognition, and when she roughly shoves her shoulder against it, the thing doesn't even budge. The fact she's alone is only a small comfort, and she can already feel panic starting to rise in her chest.
Now she tries to teleport out, but nothing happens, as if she doesn't have the power at all.
She's trapped.
For a few long moments, she's frozen in fear, breath coming short and shallow as the light from the torch flickers, and she's terrified it's going to run out and leave her in the dark, before she realizes it's flickering because her hand is shaking so badly.]
C'mon, Brown.
[It's barely a mutter, her grip tightening on the torch and her other hand curling into a fist, gloved fingers digging into her palm.
That was a stupid move, because as soon as she's made a fist, she lashes out at the door, as if it might force it open, but all that happens is pain shoots through her knuckles and jars her arm. But she can't keep it together after that; she drops the torch and shoves both hands against the door. There's no metal, suddenly, no cloying smell of decaying bodies, just wood under her hands and the sound of her father shouting at her mom, or at her, muffled through the closet door as she scrambles at the wood and tries to push it open. It doesn't matter that there was never enough room in the closet to get a run up, to stretch her arms out and push on creaking metal, because the memories are so vivid and the panic so sharp that it's all she can see.
She loses track of time, all she can hear is her ragged, panicked breathing and her heartbeat in her ears and the thunk of metal as she tries to force her way out.
It isn't until she takes as much of a run up as she can and barges her shoulder against the door that she snaps out of the panicked haze, and that's only because the pain cuts through it so sharply, along with the sickening sound of her shoulder dislocating.
Between the fear and the pain, it's enough to make tears prick at her eyes, and she punches the door one last time out of sheer anger at how terrified she is, before leaning back against it and sinking to the floor, arm cradled across her chest. She digs the fingers of her other hand against her closed eyelids, trying to fight back tears and panic; that's not going to get her out of this, but she can't focus past that stupid, ingrained fear.
She tries to teleport again, and lets out a strangled sob when it doesn't work.
But while she hasn't calmed down, not by a long shot, if she focuses on the pain in her shoulder she can actually move past the panic, at least enough to start thinking of solutions.
The network is down, but--
There's a muttered string of curses, mostly self-flagellation for being so stupid. She has her communicator in her cowl, and Babs helped her fix it up so that it'll connect to both Babs' communicators, and to Saul's bluetooth earpiece. She should call Babs, but the communicator is part of her suit, which mean it's part of her weapon, so as soon as she remembers it's possible, it starts trying to reach to Saul.
She doesn't even realize she's murmuring please pick up over and over again.]
→OTA; 16th-18th; from 1200 to 1200 hours
[Once she's calmed down from the teleportation misadventure (and had a quick nap, at both Saul and Babs' request), Steph gets to work on fixing this damn problem. It's a little tricky for those first few hours while the gravity is still all over the place, but she adapts well enough. Her first priority is securing the spaceship, because if the Transporter room is out of reach, there's no way she's losing their other only option of getting the hell off this base, should something go wrong. As soon as she's happy with that, she starts on the long list of other problems that need fixing.
The lights and network are still down and the doors aren't under control; the latter two are the real problems, since it's tricky to communicate and get places with those systems offline. The doors don't bother Steph so much, except she's a little more cautious about teleporting places, mostly going places she's sure of, rather than trying anything too tricky and risking ending up trapped again.
Still, she moves around a lot, dropping into the housing wings occasionally to make sure everyone is doing alright, before heading out to do what she can about the technical problems. She's not, well, Babs, but if there's wiring that can be fixed or systems that can be hacked and taken over, she'll be making an effort to manage it, with varying degrees of success. As she goes (before the lights are back online) she sticks emergency work lights to the walls and over any working doors, to help people move through the base; they're from her belt, and the batteries will only last a few hours, but it's better than nothing.
She very rarely takes breaks, popping into the cafeteria long enough to grab something quick and easy to eat, or finding a spot near where Babs and Saul are set up to catch a few minutes of sleep. She's more likely to stop to talk to people, trying to coordinate efforts to get systems back online, or to figure out more of what, exactly, is going on. But her main priority is action, leaving the organization to people who are better at it. This isn't like the zombies, where she was willing to trust other people to hold down the fort, if she needed a break.
She doesn't know who she can trust or not, but she's moving about the base with purpose, and from the snippets of conversation that can be caught as she speaks into the earpiece in her cowl, it's clear she's trying to fix this. And it's clear she's not impressed with the situation, judging by the angry mutters and tension in her posture that never quite seems to leave.]
→Max Kearny; 19th; 0120 hours
[As soon as they've got the doors back online, she gives a curt goodbye to Jaime and Batwoman, then disappears towards the Transporter room. She knows she could likely take them with her, but once she's scoped out the situation she wants to go and get Jesse so he can disable anyone with powers, and she's not sure if there's a limit on how many she can carry.
Anyway, first things first, and that's reappearing in the housing wing a reasonable distance from the Transporter room, since she isn't entirely sure how far the field of... redirection magic extends, and she really doesn't want to end up trapped again. It's little further than she'd like to be, but it gives her a chance to sneak close and check things out before throwing herself into a fight, and hopefully there'll be less guards down this way.
That doesn't mean it won't be guarded at all, but when the only person she sees down the end of the hall is Max, she figures it's something she can handle herself, if this turns bad. Max is good, Steph's seen her fight, but she's good, too. And she's got anger behind her, which is always an advantage, so long as she channels it right.
Her hand goes to her staff, though she doesn't pull it free from her belt just yet.]
Please tell me you haven't thrown your lot in with these idiots.
[She does, actually, like Max. And anger aside, Steph doesn't want to hurt her friends, even when they're being completely fucking stupid.]
→ Dick Grayson + Saul Goodman; 19th; 0145 hours
[Max told her to find somewhere safe to wait this out, and Steph doesn't see any reason not to do it; she has no interest in this fight, even though she's sure she cared about the outcome a few minutes ago. But it doesn't matter, if she's stopped caring, it can't have been that important, so she tucks her staff back onto her belt and teleports back to the Housing wing. It should be safe there, out of the way, and anyway, she's kind of tired (when was the last time she slept?) so going to her room to take a nap doesn't seem like a bad idea.
She starts peeling off the Batgirl suit as she goes, tucking the gloves into her belt and folding the cape and cowl over an arm. The whole thing's heavy, and all that armor and symbolism seems a bit pointless. It really can't all be that important.]
→ Sonya Karimov; 19th; sometime between 0200 and 0230
[Saul tells her to stay put, but he's busy trying to co-ordinate something - she really wasn't paying attention to the details - and she really is kind of tired (and hungry; seriously, when was the last time she slept or ate?) so she decides to go find somewhere to take a nap. Saul might wonder where she's got to, but that doesn't really matter, it's not her problem, and anyway, she doesn't want to deal with someone being so... weird. About her.
It's easy enough to slip away, especially when so many people are heading in the opposite direction, towards the transporter room, since apparently something important is happening in there. Well, she knows what's happening, they're trying to take back the Transporter from the people who decided to have themselves a little mutiny, but none of it really matters. Who cares who's in control of the Transporter? It's not like it's going to change anything.
Someone runs past her, and she turns to watch them, before shaking her head and heading on her way again. At which point she bumps into someone.]
Sorry.
[It's an automatic response, she doesn't really care enough to be sorry, and she's already moving again without really acknowledging whoever it was.]
→ Saul; sometime fuck if I know
[As soon as she leaves Sonya, Steph reappears in her own, empty room. There's no cursory glance around to see if Ellie or Joel or Tess might have been around recently; they're not here, but it doesn't concern her beyond that. No matter how much she should be worride.
The only thing she really thinks is that she can finally get some rest. There's no relief behind it, but her body is exhausted after the past few days of barely sleeping, and it makes sense to her, that she should rest.
With her shoes kicked off and no worries to occupy her thoughts the way they normally do, she's asleep almost instantly.]
→ Ellie; sometime after the 21st
[The first couple of nights after... everything, she can't go back to her room. She knows she should, but all she does is send Ellie a text to let her know that she's going to be staying somewhere else for a while. She needs the familiar comfort of Babs, or Saul, or the feeling of safety that Jesse offers purely by existing and having the powers he does.
No one can do anything like that her again, so long as she's near him.
But she can't avoid her room forever, and she can't avoid Ellie forever; Steph needs to make sure that she's alright, after everything that happened. When she slinks into the room, she's not Batgirl anymore, dressed in tights, a tank top, and a rumpled, bright blue business shirt that looks at least three sizes too big for her. She feels guilty for having been away for so long, even if it's only been a few days, so her voice is a little hesitant when she speaks up.]
Hey, kiddo.
[Please don't be mad.]
→ Peter Rumancek; 25th ; late
[She tells Peter to come meet her in the VR room, and heads there to wait, wanting a few moments alone before she has to be around another person. It gives her time to set up the simulation, choosing something... completely different from anything she's made before.
The Guban plains are cold at night, but the bite of it is welcome, as is the sheer stretch of emptiness as far as the eye can see, interrupted only by sparse scrub and boulders, the sound of a stream in the distance. Last time she was here there were medical tents set up, vehicles parked and people miling about, but right now it's empty except for her.
She brought two glasses along with the bottle of tequila, and she forced herself to focus long enough to make a few sandwiches for them both, so they're not drinking on an empty stomach, and because she's noticed that Peter's been losing weight while on the moon.
She won't start drinking without him, but she does start on one half of a sandwich, picking at it slowly while she waits, trying to find something comforting in the fake night air.]
no subject
I don't mean all women any more than you meant all men.
no subject
S'just that word.
[Ruin.
It's what she shouted at Batman, when she had a chain around her father's neck, until he told her that if she killed Arthur, it wouldn't be him that ruined her, it'd be herself. It's what the world told her Murray had done to her, even if she learned better, eventually. It's what Sionis tried - and failed - to do.]
no subject
[he sighs and hooks his finger into her glass, trying to get her to let go of it before she hurts herself.
the problem is, it's the right word. the cops, they'd just decided to believe something because it was the thing that let them save the day and have their vengeance and sleep well at night. the thing that christina had told them, that half-lie that she probably didn't even mean to be a lie. the cops had punched him, choked him, pointed a gun at him, but it was chasseur who hunted him, watched and waited and then struck. and it was a woman who'd saved him from her, too. it was fear for letha that led him to the church, that made him interfere with the vargulf where he could have let nature take its course. he'd have been dead either way, but at least with most men he knows where he stands.]
Sorry.
no subject
It's okay.
[And it is; she doesn't expect anyone to be able to navigate the occasional minefield of her issues, especially when even she doesn't know what might set her off, most times.]
I think Batman kinda ruined us all. Don't know if he thought about it before doing it.
[Kinda.]
no subject
You're not ruined. You're still here.
[this time when he leans over and presses his mouth to her hair, it's actually a kiss. he breathes out with nose buried in her hair, inhales slowly.]
Don't undervalue that.
no subject
I know.
[And she does, mostly, but sometimes when she thinks about all of the Robins, she can't help but think about how desperate they are for Bruce's approval, how willing they are to make martyrs of themselves for the cause.]
Robin, my one, he used to be this sweet, dorky kid, but as he got older he just... got more and more like Batman, 'cause he thoughts that what he'd want. He thought that was how to get Bats to love him.
[There's nothing in her tone to suggest anything other than familial love.]
And yeah, he's still there, and maybe he's even happy. [She doubts it.] But I don't know what happened to the boy I fell in love with.
[She knows that people change, that they grow up, but it shouldn't be as drastic as that. She shouldn't look at Tim and feel like she's staring at a stranger, and Bruce is at fault, in her opinion.]
no subject
[the words are a little muffled against her hair, because he doesn't lift his mouth to speak. he's tried before, really tried, to imagine what he'd be like if the sort of constant disapproval that society turned in his direction had come from inside his family. he can't. it's not that he's never gotten in trouble or anything like that, it's that he's never doubted for a second that lynda loves him, even when he was being scolded.]
That just doesn't sound like family to me. You earn respect, maybe, but not love. Love just happens. It's not something you deserve or don't.
[he sighs.]
But it seems like that's not how it goes for a lot of people.
no subject
[She really can't argue that, not when she's seen it in so many different variations of people doing stupid things for love. It's how her mom ended up where she did, after all.]
I don't think he realizes he's doing it. Batman, I mean. But he makes his kids feel like they do have to earn his love, even if maybe they don't.
[She's not sure about that, and it's not like she can ask Bruce; the one here doesn't even have kids.]
That fucks kids up, 'cause you're right, family shouldn't be like that.
no subject
Maybe. Maybe nobody ever showed him.
Sometimes shit gets really twisted up, doesn't it? Like a lot of people lost how to be, somewhere along the line. Like they forget people aren't steel hearts and the stuff they've got.
no subject
He's right about other things, though, because she knows that Alfred loved Bruce, tried to do the best for him, but.. it's like Bruce lost how to be, like he never quite recovered from his parents dying.]
Yeah, and I don't think our line of work really helps. It's too easy to convince yourself the mask is the real you, and that means keeping people at a distance. It means you can't forget how easy it is to lose someone, so you ask too much of them.
[Trying to keep them safe. She's almost speaking from experience, thinking of when she realized that Ellie and Collette and all the other people in Exsilium weren't up to the standard she was used to at home. It was hard not to ask more of them, but unlike Bruce, she knew it wasn't right to think like she was.]
no subject
I get it, sorta. The theory without the practice. You put on the mask and you say 'okay, this is me'. And it is, one eensy little part.
[he pauses for a moment.]
People put the masks on me. And that's okay, fuck fitting in. But it never confused me about who I actually am. I guess if you live in a circle of heroes the rest of us are pretty hard to deal with, huh.
no subject
[She's pretty sure that doesn't make sense, so she takes a second to gather her thoughts before adding:]
It's like we just see civilians as civilians, as victims or accomplices or witnesses, not people in their own right. It gets hard to relate.
[She wonders if it's like that for cops, or soldiers, but maybe that's different because they don't shroud themselves in secret like vigilantes do.]
And you forget how to connect to people if you're not fighting by their side.
[There's an intensity to those friendships forged in fire that can make everything else pale in comparison.]
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That sounds...sad, I guess. Lonely. There's a word for it, the moment you stop and think about how many billion people there are in the world, and that each of them is living a life you know basically nothing about.
But I can see why you wouldn't. It's harder when the victim is a person and so is the criminal. And when you can't tell people what you do all the time.
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[That's just how vigilantes are, cut off from the rest of the world, it's one of the trade offs they have to make.]
I tried to make friends, at college. Turns out Francisco had mob connections, not his fault, sometimes you're just born in the wrong family. But - he got kidnapped, and I had to investigate it. Then the kid I sat next to in Philosophy 101 was part of some cult my dad had manipulated into working for him, to "make me a better Batgirl". And the cop I had a crush on-slash-worked alongside as Batgirl ended up asking out one of my professors. [she shrugs, and she knows she's kind of rambling, but it's Peter, and she trusts him, so it doesn't matter.] It's like everyone's either an ally, or just another case.
[It's hard to have friends that don't fall into the first category.]
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Not really like that here, though.
[peter considers steph a friend and knows she trusts him, but he doesn't think for a minute that he qualifies as 'ally', considering that she could wipe the floor with him six ways to sunday without breaking a sweat.]
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[That was fun.]
But yeah, it's different here. I mean - even if people aren't vigilantes, they've usually been through some kind of weird shit or another.
[So... she still isn't sure how to deal with normal people.]
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Course, folks who end up here seem to be the cream of that crop.
[somehow it doesn't sound like a bad thing when he says it, though.]
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[She's pretty sure that's why it's easier to build friendships in Exsilium. It's part of why it was so easy to connect to Ellie in the first place, 'cause she got how messed up the world was.
But that's not the point, the point is that she's leaning in to repeat the gesture Peter made earlier, pressing a kiss to his hair.]
You're a good friend.
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I don't know about that. But I'm trying.
[which is notable in itself, because he's never really put effort into making connections before. even the godreys came to him, not the other way around.]
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Trying's more than a lot of people do.
[And sometimes it's not enough, but for all that Peter talks about not knowing what he's doing, she meant what she said about him being a good friend.]
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[he really doesn't know what he's doing, and he's kinda scared of inevitably screwing it up, because there's never really been stakes before. he's never needed people he could lose in ways that would be his fault.
he rocks steph's body with his shoulder, ruffles her hair.]
I'm definitely not drunk enough for you to start telling me pretty things.
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[Not that she's really qualified to give advice on friendships, but that's something important. She thinks of what Sonya said, about cutting people out if they hurt you, and she thinks it's bullshit.
People screw up, they need second chances.]
Then you might wanna drink more. [She smiles at him, a little crooked in that slightly tipsy way.] I'm feeling kinda sappy.
[Funerals will do that.]
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[but he's chuckling when he says it, and he reaches for the bottle to refill their glasses. he can't really deny that this is a hell of a lot better than the past couple days have been.]
Drinking and sappiness are a traditional part of this whole deal.
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[She's not laughing she's still smiling, but her tone is warm and steady, trying to make sure he knows that she means that. If something happens and he fucks up with their friendship, she'll forgive him. There's not a lot she won't forgive, really, as long as people are actually sorry.]
Can't say I have much experience with it.
[She's been lucky, for a vigilante. She hasn't lost anyone that she was really close to.]
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Ah, Rumanceks kick it on a pretty regular basis. Excellent life choices and all. That was the first one of these I've done sober since my balls dropped.
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