exsiliumlogs | You're all my friends

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You're all my friends

Date & Time: Before groundhogging it or after depending on preference
Location: Exsilium proper/ wilderness/ various
Characters: Chloe Frazer and you as a fond farewell
Summary: a year and a half of thievery and trouble hits its last few notes
Warnings: VIOLENCE some of it

A: E x s i l i u m

She's back to normal now. Residual lacquer stuck to her nails, hair still neatly trimmed at the edges and her trousers aren't the dirt-stained mess left behind of a little over a year's worth of close calls and fire fights, but she is herself again, and whatever magic that Facilier had carefully stuck in under her skin with a few nice words and a friendly gesture have-- for the most part-- been shaken off. Which is to say it's almost dysphoric having to readjust after being recalibrated so completely that even her old routines and habits feel unfamiliar: walking to the market to trade off another batch of heavy (only slightly roughed-up) furs is something more akin to watching video of the ground shifting forward, of footsteps in the snow and crowds filtering off out of focus.

Doesn't feel like there's weight in her arms or the sting of bitter cold on her cheeks.

Doesn't even feel like she's capable of recognizing any of the familiar faces she passes-- and she does pass them: without a second thought or even the uncertain shift of her attention that comes from purposefully dodging someone close.

How bloody rude. Particularly when she's not careful enough to keep from clipping the occasional passerby.

B: E x s i l i u m w i l d s

This, though. This is where she flourishes. These days, anyway. After too much time spent snagged on emotions and vital decisions, solitude and silent snowfall are more comforting than things like central heating or idle banter. Simple tasks are easy to fixate on (pull wire, wrap twig, bend branch, insert bait and wait), numbing pinpricks running just under layers of insulated clothing precede pain from too many hours of it spent out in the cold. Veins going tight in an effort to cling to any remaining heat. Unappealing, unattractive, inhospitable work.

And Chloe's smiling to herself through the chilled cracks of her frost-split lip as she goes about it.

Not that most people would feel right at home in a yeti-infested wilderness.

C: Wildcard

OOC: pick a different scenario or location, whichever suits you best, and we'll make it happen!

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The fact of the matter is that in Exsilium - this version of Exsilium - Blue Beetle is something to be left by the wayside. His more convenient powers of technology and tracking aside, there's no reason for him to suit up and patrol in a city where more people are afraid of him than not, and more than that, they harbour a distinct animosity towards him and anyone else who looks different. Putting aside the vigilante work isn't exactly the biggest issue in the world, but as much as Jaime would like to convince himself that he does it for purely selfless reasons, he misses it. So does the Scarab, for that matter; he can practically hear it singing in his ears once they get out into the deep wilderness just to let loose.

It's fantastic out here, far away from Exsilium and far above the trees, but as much as he delights in flying, he still has to land sometime. When he does land, he's still talking to the Scarab (there really isn't any reason for him not to in an isolated area such as this), and he only just jerks out of the way to avoid one of the traps Chloe laid when the Scarab alerts him to it.

"Whoa! Thanks for the heads-up. Hey, can you tell who's bothered to come all the way out--oh." He blinks at Chloe once he finally spots her, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "Uh, hey."

Wide-eyed, mouth open-- wordlessly at that-- not a few feet off from the trap she'd just set, Chloe (understandably for someone still so unused to concepts like living, breathing superheroes capable of flight whenever they feel like it) needs a moment or two to come to grips with the situation. At least before sentence structure is actually a thing, anyway.

"Hello." All right, an attempt at sentence structure anyway. "Long time no talk."

"Or long time no argue, you mean," Jaime says, and even through the suit it's easy to see where the corner of his mouth is lifted in a wry smile, as if in peace offering. He may have been one of those who argued a bit less vehemently than the rest, but he has no intention of arguing even that much now. He still thinks Charlie's an asshole, but Chloe had managed to make a far better impression on him.

"Sorry if I surprised you. I'm not used to seeing anyone else all the way out here. I usually try not to pull a Batman on people."

This is a lie. He has tried to pull a Batman on people, but normally people see his bright blue ass in the sky and point him out before he's able to, in which case he attempts to act as if that were the plan all along.

"Well that's a relief." She manages, edge of her mouth pulling up into something of a smile on her end of things though there's little more than fur attempting to cover it up in the bitter cold. Honestly, she's heard nothing but awful things about the batfamily thanks to one Helena Bertinelli and her personal stories-- knows nothing else aside from packaged bat logos on boxer briefs but that's too off-topic to dwell on. "Touble steering in the wind today?"

Best guess: flying's a foreign science to her, after all.

"Nah, it'll take more than a little wind to bring me down," he says flippantly. Now that she mentions it, however, he retracts his wings back into his suit with a quiet snap!, because though he can still travel in the wind, it doesn't mean he particularly enjoys standing here and letting them flap about in it.

"I just usually don't have to worry about where I land here." He spares a glance towards the trap that Chloe had set out and tilts his head. "Though maybe I should. Is this where you usually go hunting?"

"Tell you the truth I don't usually go hunting. Not here, anyway." Which isn't a lie despite the fact that she's no stranger to setting up hare traps in deep, arctic snow. Clearly isn't to anyone that knows a thing or two about hunting-- or survival processes in general.

"With less and less of us about I figured pulling my own weight ought to include more local trade. The sort they're used to. Might steal a bit more of some sorely needed favor."

Jaime considers the trap with a thoughtful hum before admitting, "Not a bad idea."

He's never actually killed anything alive before unless you count zombies in the equation, and the idea doesn't exactly thrill him. That experience had actually put him off of meat for a good while until he missed it too much. He seriously isn't cut out to be a vegetarian, but he prefers his meat to come prepackaged at the grocery store. It's a sad reality of current-day Exsilium that he's had very close contact with meat in its purest form at the behest of his employer, but at least he hasn't had to have been the one to pull the trigger yet.

"It's all of us disappearing, though, not the natives. You look normal enough to get a job with them if you wanted one."

"Thanks, I think." She's joking when she says it-- the edge of her mouth tugged up into a grin-- but there's something about the idea of it that unsettles her beyond the thought of being stationary for the long haul. "But much as I like to live like that's not the case, this time it's not about me: more than a few transports left behind aren't so lucky. Initiative staff included."

Chloe purposefully looks elsewhere, tucks her fingers in her pockets and shrugs with forced nonchalance. "We do what we can."

"You're right. Nothing saying that some of us can't cozy up to them by working with them instead of selling to them, though. It's a good way of getting to know them, and letting them get to know us," Jaime says, a little too knowledgeably to act as if he hasn't already gotten a job in town. The only thing as crappy as the job is the pay, but he can't say that it hasn't come with its perks. Transport or not, the natives he works with have been increasingly kind to him as time passes. Familiarity brings affection along with it, and he's worked hard to be as inoffensive as possible - not that that's too difficult for him, seeing as he's agreeable by nature.

Jaime can't do anything about the more inhuman qualities of his gaze, eyes obscured as they are by yellow-red lenses and face hidden behind the carapace that will always hold him apart here in Exsilim, but somehow he manages to convey some of the softness in his expression anyway. "You must care a whole lot about them, huh."

He's not specifically speaking about the Initiative staff or any particular Transports as much as he's talking about them as a group. As much as he disagreed with the rebellion, or whatever it is they can actually call their little group, nobody takes arms like that without caring a whole lot - and no one goes out hunting in the middle of nowhere for the sakes of people they're completely ambivalent towards.

And there's no hiding the evidence of that, much as she'd like to. There's a half-hearted attempt to bluff when Chloe goes in to exhale a heavy puff of air between set teeth-- gives up on that course of action a second later when she remembers he's sharp as a bloody tack and not likely to ignore the facts.

"Saw right through it, did you?"

"Maybe just a bit." Jaime flashes her a sheepish grin, teeth white and human behind the mask. He has a tendency to think of himself as being slightly behind the mark, but some things - people's inherent goodness, for example - he's sure on. There have to be some certainties in life, after all.

"It's not like caring's such a bad thing. Most people do, y'know."

Sometimes her mind isn't certain how to process those brief glimpses of humanity, but she doesn't mind. Not anymore, at least, not when she's had well over a year to come to terms with everything out of the ordinary that Exsilium has to offer. It's brushed aside without much thought, his words earning her focus instead.

"Well I'm not most people." Teasing and sincere in equal amounts. "And neither are you, for that matter - I've seen how dedicated you are."

That comment makes Jaime duck his head, embarrassed. He knows all too well that he's dedicated - for all the mistakes he's made, and he's made plenty, nobody around can question his sheer bull-headed perseverance - but he rarely expects to hear it from anyone beyond close friends.

"All a part of the job description," he says, more sincerity than bravado in his voice. Superheroes are, by definition, dedicated; it takes a special kind of soul to decide to go jumping about on rooftops in their spare time. Besides, he's got a legacy to keep up, no matter where he is.

"Always wondered what it takes to make someone go into the underwear business." Chloe folds her arms across her chest, the thick winter layers don't exactly make it easy, but she's grinning all the same.

"Hey, do you see underwear? This is one-hundred percent armour, no underwear-on-the-outside here." He's got standards... or maybe he's just got youth on his side. All of the big leagues have underwear on the outside, but they're old and powerful enough to either be able to pull it off, or to intimidate anyone who has the guts to tell them that it looks really dumb. "No amount of personal responsibility would make me go out in spandex."

Sorry, fellow capes, but that look really isn't for him. He'd say that it shouldn't be for anyone, but frankly speaking, he's one hundred percent okay with the women in spandex that populate the superhero community.

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You're all my friends

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this thread: kill me now

ahhh yes I AM SO GLAD WE MANAGED TO SQUEEZE ONE IN :>>

Me too :')

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