my schedule's pretty open. i usually do open session at 8 in one of the buildings by the safehouse, i can meet you after? you're welcome to come by, if you want the practice.
[ does he know what his own power is? she could ask, but it's not really any of her business if he doesn't feel like sharing. ]
[ dick grayson is not going to be caught dead practising in front of others without being competent with his ability. he demands perfection of himself.
you realize this means now we have to have a party.
[ she doesn't entirely need an excuse, but it's nice to pin the blame on someone else, even jokingly.
there is a pinned address sent shortly after. it's an abandoned building a block or so away from the safehouse, with little online records beyond the shop that had once filled its space. it's a good place for people to meet, blow off steam, and practice without prying eyes. ]
let me know when you're heading over, i'll pull open a window for you.
see you. [ parties would only be useful to find like-minded allies. dick is the last of the great conversationalists, inherited from bruce wayne himself.
when dick arrives, he knocks on the door. he's not sneaking around. there's no need for window break ins. ]
[ it's so strange to think that someone who claims jason and damian as family would willingly use the door when a window presented itself for parkour leap-throughs, but here he is, knocking. like a proper, dapper gentleman and everything, even.
she really has missed dick grayson. ]
Come on in.
[ the building isn't much to look at — but that's on purpose. the less interesting from the outside, the less likely they'll have to fend off squatters who might want to claim the place for themselves. ]
So. I'm guessing you didn't come all this way for private tutoring.
[ it's not an interrogation room, but then again, is anywhere really ever not suitable for asking invasive questions under the guise of getting to know someone? ]
Since it's pretty clear you're not here to take me out for drinks, either.
[ so it's not urgent business, nor pressing need for social niceties. daisy hums a bar or two in consideration before making herself comfortable. there's an old folding table that she hops up onto, seating herself next to a rough-looking box of scrap metal and broken gadgetry, all rescued from local junkyards and trash piles.
after a beat, her hands begin to move, a fluid motion of palms and fingers around invisible bubbles in the air; under her sweater, the familiar blue glow swells and falls in time to a silent rhythm. in time with the beat, pieces from the box begin to lift into the air, molding themselves and slotting into place bit by bit, forming the shell of what will eventually become part of a larger project. there's a casualness to the way she works that betrays her comfort here. this abandoned building has been good to her. ]
Depends on the day, [ she eventually offers, a shrug tying off the thought. ] I try to meet as many newbies as I can, show them that they don't have to be afraid of what they can do. They can learn to control it, you know? But I did this back home, too, so I guess I'm biased.
[ dick moves out of her way. cautiously examining how the pieces fit together.
he does not hate metahumans. but he will always be wary of those with abilities above human. not everyone is clark or diana. and even they have human flaws that can be exploited. ]
You helped people with their newfound abilities? [ he's too cynical now to show his wonder, but watching this happen is pretty cool. ]
I did. [ no shame in that, but rather a thread of pride that warms her voice, though her attention doesn't waver from her work. ] I led a team, back home. We'd find Inhumans that had triggered their abilities, helped them figure out how to use them, how to be safe with them if they couldn't control them. Made sure they didn't hurt themselves or anybody else in the process.
[ she pauses, peering up at him for a moment before her gaze drops again. ]
I miss that, sometimes. But I like to think I'm doing something important here, too.
Part alien, yeah. Descended from humans that were experimented on by the Kree, with latent superpowers that only unlock from exposure to terrigen crystals. It's supposed to be this whole... important ceremony, but —
[ she stops for a moment, something painful in her expression that's quickly swallowed down. it's hard to talk about afterlife and what her mother had done without bearing the brunt of that guilt. ]
A bunch of terrigen crystals got dumped in the ocean, bled out in the water. They got into the food supply, fish oil vitamins, that sort of this. People all over, all suddenly sprouting powers they were never prepared for.
Pure terrigen crystals — if you break them, there's a mist that comes out. Triggers terrigenesis in Inhumans, makes anybody else cough a little bit. They're hard to replicate, though. The ones that got made wound up corrupted, I guess; anybody who breathed in the mist from those who wasn't Inhuman wound up dead.
[ the diviner's metal turned their bodies into stone which then cracked and broke into pieces, but you know, whatever. ]
My mom decided she was going to kill as many people as possible with those crystals. I got them away from her... but they wound up in the water. Nobody died, but nobody was expecting to go through that just from popping their daily vitamin, you know?
[ it's half jiaying's fault for trying to kill all of humanity, half daisy's fault for trying to stop her. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
you're welcome to come by, if you want the practice.
[ does he know what his own power is? she could ask, but it's not really any of her business if he doesn't feel like sharing. ]
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[ dick grayson is not going to be caught dead practising in front of others without being competent with his ability. he demands perfection of himself.
especially if there's an audience. ]
seven thirty?
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[ she's met one too many stoic men who prefer to fuck up in private. ]
i can do that. you won't get me tipsy before class, though.
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and let's save that for a real party [ drunk people make bad interrogations. and getting a girl drunk on a first impression isn't good form anyway. ]
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[ she doesn't entirely need an excuse, but it's nice to pin the blame on someone else, even jokingly.
there is a pinned address sent shortly after. it's an abandoned building a block or so away from the safehouse, with little online records beyond the shop that had once filled its space. it's a good place for people to meet, blow off steam, and practice without prying eyes. ]
let me know when you're heading over, i'll pull open a window for you.
no subject
see you. [ parties would only be useful to find like-minded allies. dick is the last of the great conversationalists, inherited from bruce wayne himself.
when dick arrives, he knocks on the door. he's not sneaking around. there's no need for window break ins. ]
no subject
she really has missed dick grayson. ]
Come on in.
[ the building isn't much to look at — but that's on purpose. the less interesting from the outside, the less likely they'll have to fend off squatters who might want to claim the place for themselves. ]
So. I'm guessing you didn't come all this way for private tutoring.
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but when trying to make friends, doors are better.
he glances around. ]
I've got that covered. Thanks, though. [ he only trusts clark with his mistakes. ]
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[ it's not an interrogation room, but then again, is anywhere really ever not suitable for asking invasive questions under the guise of getting to know someone? ]
Since it's pretty clear you're not here to take me out for drinks, either.
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[ he could still do drinks. his plan isn't formed yet. dick tends to make it up as he goes along.
he gets there in the end. ]
Inquiring minds and all. Do you get a lot of people coming here? [ or are more of them like him. wanting privacy? ]
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after a beat, her hands begin to move, a fluid motion of palms and fingers around invisible bubbles in the air; under her sweater, the familiar blue glow swells and falls in time to a silent rhythm. in time with the beat, pieces from the box begin to lift into the air, molding themselves and slotting into place bit by bit, forming the shell of what will eventually become part of a larger project. there's a casualness to the way she works that betrays her comfort here. this abandoned building has been good to her. ]
Depends on the day, [ she eventually offers, a shrug tying off the thought. ] I try to meet as many newbies as I can, show them that they don't have to be afraid of what they can do. They can learn to control it, you know? But I did this back home, too, so I guess I'm biased.
no subject
he does not hate metahumans. but he will always be wary of those with abilities above human. not everyone is clark or diana. and even they have human flaws that can be exploited. ]
You helped people with their newfound abilities? [ he's too cynical now to show his wonder, but watching this happen is pretty cool. ]
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[ she pauses, peering up at him for a moment before her gaze drops again. ]
I miss that, sometimes. But I like to think I'm doing something important here, too.
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he misses rachel. kory. even gar.
he catches himself worrying for rose too. ]
The Inhumans, they're like... [ he doesn't have to pretend. the definition is tough to deduce from what she said ] aliens?
[ it's blunt. but he can't pretend more familiarity with powers than knowing the justice league and stuff ]
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[ she stops for a moment, something painful in her expression that's quickly swallowed down. it's hard to talk about afterlife and what her mother had done without bearing the brunt of that guilt. ]
A bunch of terrigen crystals got dumped in the ocean, bled out in the water. They got into the food supply, fish oil vitamins, that sort of this. People all over, all suddenly sprouting powers they were never prepared for.
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A coming of age thing. Okay.
[ he can act like a human figuring this out. it's all new to him anyway. ]
An accident? Or... [ he looks sheepish. ] Sorry, just trying to get the whole picture here.
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[ her mouth twists for a moment, considering. ]
Pure terrigen crystals — if you break them, there's a mist that comes out. Triggers terrigenesis in Inhumans, makes anybody else cough a little bit. They're hard to replicate, though. The ones that got made wound up corrupted, I guess; anybody who breathed in the mist from those who wasn't Inhuman wound up dead.
[ the diviner's metal turned their bodies into stone which then cracked and broke into pieces, but you know, whatever. ]
My mom decided she was going to kill as many people as possible with those crystals. I got them away from her... but they wound up in the water. Nobody died, but nobody was expecting to go through that just from popping their daily vitamin, you know?
[ it's half jiaying's fault for trying to kill all of humanity, half daisy's fault for trying to stop her. ]
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destruction on that scale isn't new to him. but it still sucks. and daisy's mom? yeah.
he's thinking of talia. that some things across all worlds don't seem like they change.
they should never form a club. ]
Sounds like a real peach. But nobody died. [ daisy's own words. so it's not like he's pulling fake reassurance out of nowhere. ]
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Yeah. Nobody died from that, anyway. [ people sure have died otherwise, though. ] But that was... I don't know, two, maybe three years ago?
[ time is weird. could have been five. nobody knows. ]
Shit happens. You just keep going.