Summary:Orphan catches up with Phobos as he goes looking for information. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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The last thing that was said on the comms by Alexander Aaron was just a comment given off-handedly as he leapt off the Wayne Tech Tower, firing the grapple line with a smoothness of motion that might defy the expectations some would have for one with only a handful of nights experience in the use of such a device. « I think the Samurai was mad at us. »
And that was where he left it. No judgment, just a statement of fact and then he disappeared off the comms. Batgirl might have sensed something was a bit up with him. Might have sensed that the encounter with the Gorgon left him with some nebulous hint of negativity around him. But she also didn't have much experience in dealing with the youth and with the emotions he'd manifest. For the youth takes harbor in control and progression. A task before him allows him to compartmentalize and move forward.
Without a clear path he is left to ruminate and turn inwards. And become angry.
The Gorgon had said, 'Your Orphan's doom stalks her now. That too is written,' though Euryale had said it in a hurry as she was being menaced by the samurai. To the others it might have been a half-threat barely uttered.
To Alexander it was the only thing that mattered in the entire encounter. And for now he was left with a task, to find Euryale's people and get them to talk.
"You are useless to me." The alleyway is dark, wet from the rains. Five men reel in varying states of discombobulation. One crawls on the ground, grimacing as he holds his knee, trying to get away from the youth in black. Another is stuck against the wall with one of those batarangs through his shoulder. Three others are more cowed than injured, though some bruises mark them.
"I want one of the fae that you work with. I don't care about you."
While the words, even the tones used, on the comms don't mean much to Orphan, Oracle helpfully translates to Cassandra's HUD so at least she gets the general idea.
Not that it told her much.
Orphan wasn't at the encounter, but as the evening rolls on she's able to catch up with Alex. What she finds though, is unexpected.
Alighting at the parapet wall above, she peers down into the alley and takes in the handful of people that Alex is menacing. While certainly he's capable, she hasn't seen him so decisively incapacitate anyone yet. Well, and still leave them conscious.
With an easy dive and flip, catching the walls of the alley just enough to slow her impact, the yellow-and-black clad hooded figure lands in the alleyway with Alex.
At her appearance she can see the shock of fear go through the men, knowing they're well and truly screwed. The one against the wall grimaces and doesn't seem to react normally to the situation of being impaled partly with metal through his shoulder. He struggles all the more, while the three that are still mobile see her and break into a run, darting off down the alley trying to get away.
But Alexander's attention is on her. At least at first. Whens he alights she'll see the rush of happiness, relief. Like a twist of the spring releasing all the tension in it finally as he takes a deep breath. Then almost immediately that relief is replaced with concern and worry as he lifts a hand and says to her, "Hi."
Glad to see her, but also perhaps not wanting her to see this. He turns away and tells her, "We need information." Signing the words as he speaks them.
The one on the ground still tries to drag himself away from them, his knee not working at all and he seems frantic, the fear and shock in him still reverberating strongly through his form. But that one against the wall, he grimaces and /puulllls/ his shoulder off the batarang with a squelch of sound, not seeming to even feel the pain. He grabs the weapon from the wall with his good arm and then rushes toward them, swinging the blade widely.
The answering smile to the sunshine that touches Alex, despite the dirty alleyway and the dark night's sky above, is little more than a shift in the shadows of Orphan's cowl beneath the hood. But by now he can see it beyond that. In the way her spine straightens a bit, the set of her shoulders and cant of her head. Tiny movements, but the all speak to one thing: How his smile brightens her day. "Hi."
The movement of the three darting off gets a turn of Oprhan's head, and she looks back to Alex with that questioning tilt. Does he need her to stop them? His answer of needing information gets a bit of a pause before she answers: "« Information for what? »" Information itself is hard for Orphan. Hard to get, hard to use. But she understands it, at least.
When the impaled one pulls himself free, it gets a bit of a start from Orphan, because he's not 'reading' right. When he rushes for them, she steps forward to strike first at his wrist to get him to drop the blade, and then she'll step closer to redirect his momentum to have him slamming into the wall. Keeping them conscious is more work, but seems to be what Alex wants.
Their conversation is held in subtle movements, occasional bits of signing. Like when those three rush away and she merely turns her head just so. His response is a small shake of it, and a gesture of one hand to the side that seems to so magnanimously allow them their flight. And then she signs her question for his answer to be…
« Their leader threatened you. » And the words might not seem to convey much weight of sentiment. Yet the way he makes that quick quartet of signs, she can /read/ the anger and the worry in him. The concern rife as he finishes that last word and gestures away.
But then the growling one charges and lashes with that knife… only for her to strike his wrist, bones crunching at the impact. The blade goes flying. Then she shifts him around to the side and into the other wall with a /wham/ of impact. Nose shattering, blood pouring down his face.
And the man laughs, an angry thing, bubbling from his broken features as if the whole thing amuses him. The man on the floor grimaces, "Oh fuck man, fuck's sake. Fuck!" As he tries to get to the mouth of the alleyway.
But Alexander doesn't allow him to try anything further. There is a faint flicker in his hands as he steps forward and strikes a ready stance with the long crimson-bladed sword now in his grasp. Grasscutter held perfectly still in front of the laughing man's features.
She can see that duality in him, that twisted double 'voice' of his mannerisms as he speaks in a chilling and cold tone. "I don't want you. I want your boss. Or whomever has enchanted you. I want Euryale, or one of her fae allies. Do you understand?"
The man's response is to laugh and spit a gob of blood at the godling.
Orphan holds the angry man against the wall as his blood drips down the brick and his manic laughter rises upwards, bouncing between the tight alley walls and echoing. How long she can hold him there is a bit of a question. She's good at hitting hard, but she's only so strong.
That someone threatened her just gets a shrug from Orphan. He can see how little it bothers her. She lifts her free hand, miming the empty talk-talk-talking that she rates a threat at. "« They can try. »"
The hooded figure turns back to look over at Alex as the man on the ground babbles, and when Grasscutter flickers into being there's a tightening to Cassandra's manner. She remembers that blade. Remembers what Alex looked like while she head that blade. Those memories are stark and raw and powerful… and distract her a moment from the fact that he's summoned it.
The man /surges/ against her grip in that moment of distraction, trying to rush towards the blade before him and the youth that wields it. He reaches out as if to grasp and grab and /tear/ with his hands curled into claws, eyes wild with something akin to laughter…
Only for the butt of Grasscutter to slam hard into the side of his head and crack loud, sending him tumbling to the ground where Alexander places a heavy boot upon the fallen's chest, where the charmed and enchanted mortal servant scrabbles like an overturned cockroach, flailing though his injured arm remains still.
"You'll get nothing, Fear! Hah. She said you would come looking. So predictable! Go ahead and do it! Nothing you say. Nothing you do matters. It is /all/ Fate. Godling. All Fate."
The man grabs at Alexander's leg, nails dragging trying to tear through the leather. And for a moment… a brief moment… Cassandra can see that duality in the youth, can see it tightening and becoming purpose as the decision is made. Oh there is a part of him that rails, but for the first time she has seen the 'voice' of Alexander is the lesser of the two. The killing intent is there. The way his body tenses. The way Grasscutter rises a bare millimeter as he readies to strike downwards.
And all the while the man under his boot leers.
Another might curse as the man breaks free, but not so the silent Orphan. She's a bit thrown, the man's 'words' jumbled and incoherent as that madness grips him. It makes it harder for her to react. Slower. It lets him tear free but Alexander has him.
The hooded Orphan steps closer as Alex has him pinned and the man's words come spilling out but they don't help her. And the man's words don't help her. So she looks to Alexander, hoping that in hearing him, she'll have a better understanding of the man on his back. Only to see his intent honed to a fine point, the shift that started when he summoned the sword comes to a single moment as that decision is made and Orphan forgets the man who would hurt them. Forgets the information that Alex wants. "NO!" Forgets everything as she strikes out with all of her oft restrained speed and strength to knock the sword aside with a strike at his wrist. To knock *Alex* aside as a booted foot is slammed at his chest.
It leaves her standing over the madman, her back to him as she faces off against Alex and his deadly intent.
The sword comes down with a /SHING!/ of sound as it imbeds in the asphalt next to the man's ear, and then she twists spinning smoothly to _slam_ her foot into his chest knocking the young Olympian into the wall with a heavy thud of impact. His head cracks against the brick and he winces, but then he pushes off the wall.
All while the man on the ground laughs, laughs uproariously at the events, at the concept of what has just happened… only for the laughter to cease almost instantly. Interrupted abruptly as the madness leaves his eyes and he sits up, gaze wild and frantic as he looks around rapidly.
Alexander has no attention for him, however. He /rounds/ on Cassandra and for a moment, just a moment, she will see the bright silver gleam in his eyes as he _glares_ at her so intensely. As if she _dared_ to raise hand against him. Only for that duality to slip away quickly to be replaced with Alexander's 'voice' as his eyes soften, widen, the light flickering out.
"You don't understand!" He tells her, forgetting to sign.
The man gets up, scrabbling, and rushes over to his fallen friend. If left to their devices they likely will try to beat feet as quickly as possible as their friends did earlier. But Alexander seems unconcerned. For now at least.
"This isn't some mob boss guy wanting to kill you! It's…"
He realizes then that she likely isn't following anything beyond the wild concern he has for her, and the… fear? The fear of losing her. The only fear that has touched him.
He stops and draws a breath, eyes lowering, then back up to hers as he signs as he speaks. "The threat. Was by one like me. But horrible."
Then there's a beat as he looks back to Grasscutter, red-bladed and thrumming in the ground when he adds quietly. "Or… more horrible." Since he knows what he had just tried to do. And he knows the horrors that lurk in him. That make him unworthy of her.
The duality that Cassandra is used to seeing in Alexander is the person he is with her, and the person he gives to everyone else. The facade he puts up to give them what they want. This other Alexander, this is different. This is something that reminds her of his father in the intensity of him. It sets her back on her heels a bit. Not because the son must be like the father but because of that glimpse of that other side of him.
The injured men are forgotten as they crawl and scurry away. They're no longer a threat. Of course, they never were. But Cassandra still stays squared off with Alexander as he pleads his case. And again, they're trapped by an inability to fully understand and speak the other's language. But they have to try. She has to try.
Cassandra reaches up to push back her hood and pull her cowl free, and only then does she come for him in a rush of movement. He can see the firm set of her mouth, the flash of her dark eyes as she punches and kicks, forcing him to move with her. A hard strike he turns aside, wrists touching and then forearms sliding along each other and her strike hits the brick wall behind him and leaves it cracked, spitting small bits of stone shrapnel at him. A kick to his side, to slide him down along the wall and force him to fight for his footing. She can take care of herself!
With a last glimpse over his shoulder, the man with the injured knee looks after the two young vigilantes even as he's helped to the mouth of the alley. He takes just a moment to tell his newly recovered friend, "Those guys are fucking crazy." Even as they slip from view.
But the world for Alexander and Cassandra has shrunk down to just them. Just each other. It all begins with the eyes, shared gazes, intensity. Then she is moving and their 'voices' rise as the conflict ensues.
There is the crack of kevlar armor against leather, the hard impact of forearms. Their wrists touch and hold and she tells him so emphatically that she can handle him. Can handle this. His answer is a tightening of his features and a /push/ of his arm against hers, strength flaring to shift their balance…
The stone debris peppers over him from the strength of her hit against the wall as she answers him strength for strength. Only for her to compensate and handle that aspect of him, twisting to the side and her leg whipping around to crack against his side and his lowered arm, absorbing some of that impact.
She can see the duality of him, the way he moves and counters. Stepping forward he slices a low kick toward her legs to try and force her off balance but knowing it will merely push her back slightly as she evades, then he turns and brings a leg up and around in a side kick trying to catch her in that evasion…
Yet she reads it and slips around him.
There is a rush of movement as he spins and their wrists touch once again, stances held and limbs rigid. And as quickly as that… there is the sense that they are done as the tension leaves, the duality leaves. And when his eyes find hers she can see it is her Alexander. And nothing more.
« You're right. » He signs softly, hand lowering as he makes the signed gesture. A simple one to convey. He signs it again as if accepting it. « I… »
He starts and then looks to the side, then back to her. « You can handle yourself. » He signs, then he adds a little more. « I just need to get used to having you in my heart. »
It is more complex than that assuredly, but at its core that is it. He has never cared for another. Never loved another. He must trod those old roads that most everyone who falls in love must trod. Though for him it carries such weight of sentiment.
Cassandra can see when he makes that realization. Or perhaps admission. He's known, but then he knows she hasn't seen the world he has. A world where being able to fight won't mean the win. He's seen her with his father, and for all her strength and speed and skill, he is the God of War.
She can take care of herself, but that won't save her.
While she's made her point, Cassandra steps up to him and then points back, towards Grasscutter. Her brow is furrowed, her dark eyes heavy with something. Sadness? "« You would kill him, to save me? »" Alexander's gotten a bit more used to Cassandra's messy version of ASL. "« My life is not worth more than his. »"
Turning to face her fully, she can see in his gaze the way he looks at her, the way his bright blue eyes glisten just in the corners. Not quite tears, but the closest thing to such that has been brought forth from him. Even in the darkest of times that have passed. She signs to him and he looks down at her hands, then into her eyes. A step forward and he takes her hands in his and squeezes them as he holds them. Just /holds/ them as if somehow alone that small gesture can convey to her how much he feels for her.
He looks back and forth between her irises and she can read in him those feelings, that strong sentiment held only for her. His fingertip lifts as he lightly touches her nose. Tenderly as if that small way of them saying hi was a pure expression of love between them.
Then he steps back finally to answer her, signing slowly. « Your life. Is worth more than all of ours. »
A beat as he perhaps looks to see if she understands, and then he says softly as he signs. "I would die for you."
That he feels so strongly for her is… confusing. And it makes her uncomfortable. He knows that. But she hasn't run off this time. As he takes her hands, effectively silencing her for the moment, her gaze searches his as he does the same. The truth of his feelings is there, offered up with no reservations.
When he touches her nose lightly there's a small flicker of a sad smile, but when he answers… The look she gives him is almost horrified. He can see her throat work. The choked sounds that escape her and then she's shaking her head at him. She makes a cutting motion with one hand. "« No. »" And then she uses her words. "NO."
When Cassandra shoves him forward this time, her movements are messy. Clouded by emotions like her vision is clouded by tears. She shoves him back against the wall and he sees the form of her stand shift. Grim decision made. Her arm cocks back and then slams forward into his chest with such force is takes his breath. Stops his heart.
1… He can see her so close, as those tears drip down from her eyes.
2… Rough, inarticulate sounds from a throat that can't *tell* him… anything. She can only show him her grief as death breathes upon him.
3… The set of her body is tight, unhappy, guilty. But she keeps his eyes the whole time. Letting him see that and forcing herself to watch as the light sputters in Alexander's eyes like a candle against the wind.
Pain shatters his world, breathe sucks into his lungs, life pulses through his veins as Cassandra strikes again to restart his heart and then backs away. Stumbles.
He is confusion. To her eyes. He is sadness, tormented by her own. His eyes are on hers even as she starts to cry. She shoves and he is against the wall. Blue eyes, holding her own. Surely she must know how he feels for her. How he values her. He can see that in her gaze, and somehow… /somehow/ it torments her. He has caused her sadness. Pain.
She moves roughly and he starts to raise his hands. But then he lowers hem. She makes that decision. And she strikes. She can feel the jolt up her arm. Can feel the reverberations through his body. Can feel the venomous intensity of that strike that she was so trained to use. And she can tell it fell, even in her sadness, truly.
His mouth parts. At first there is the pain as there is no breath. He is puzzlement. Holding her gaze. But then perhaps… perhaps this is for the best. She can see it then. Can see it in that small moment as it enters his eyes as he holds out a hand to her.
He is acceptance.
His hand seeks her own, just to hold as he feels… death in the wings. His smile is there, gentle, finding her eyes with such love in his own. Perhaps with all he has experienced, it is best he die before he has had a chance to… to harm others as she saw he might.
He is forgiveness.
His eyes begin to fade, to die.
And then the return. Life. He falls to the ground on his hands and knees, drawing breath raggedly.
In some ways, it was not only done to show him the awfulness of death's approach. It was not done only to show him the awfulness of her, to try to break that unfounded trust in her.
It was done to torture herself. To see death come upon someone again at her hand. To remind herself that She Did This. And worse, to someone she cared for. That cared for her.
But there was no struggle. No blame. No fear.
It takes her legs out from under her. Like he's stolen the bedrock she stands on, tilting her world on its axis and now she is lost. She sits there in the dirt and the detritus, eyes and cheeks wet.
Coughing, softly, his breath is ragged still as she sits there across from him. He doesn't rise. He crawls, over towards her. It's just a small distance, armored knees pushing through the dirt and grime. But it's only a few moments until he is at her side and takes her hand again.
Pale features, paler than normal. But his eyes find hers as he sits down beside her, cross-legged. A hand lifts to brush across her hair, to try and bring her eyes to find his. To just get her to look at him.
And should she do so, she will see that he still loves her. That despite what she has revealed… what he knows she was trained to do. What she could do. And perhaps… perhaps suspecting what she has done. She will see that it changes nothing for him.
Then, he lifts a hand to sign slowly, « You will always be in my heart. No matter what. »
A pause, as he is still confused, perhaps on some level she can read the trepidation there as if perhaps she realizes she does not love him. So he gives her the out in case she needs it by signing. « Even if you tell me to leave you. I will still love. I will go. But still love. »
And then he tries that small smile. That one she first saw him wear upon seeing her. For she is amazing to him.
For Alexander, the world was, in a way, empty. And then Cassandra came into it.
For Cassandra, her world is full of guilt and grief, and she hasn't been able to see through all of that to anything else. Including the love that Alex wants to see written as clearly on her features as they are on his.
As he sits with her, and speaks his heart to her, his promises, she watches him with that confused mix of emotions. She doesn't say anything. Not in words or sign or even the expressive set of her body. Instead, she shifts to move into his lap and lay her head against his chest, her ear against that heart she stopped. There's a numbness to her as she tries to work through too many thoughts. Too many emotions. And apparently, Alexander is her port in this storm.