multiversallogs | [open] and if we've come a long way, then i suspect it sideways

Who: Odessa Wander and you! (Yes, you!)
What: A week in the life.
Where: Mafaton, Library of the Blessed Saint Brian, a restaurant, and a park. Somewhere.
When: Various points in the week.
Notes: Thread starters exist for: Irene, Rex, Shrieky, and Steph. If you want to do something, that's awesome! Let's do something. I am totally flexible, so feel free to start a thread with whatever. If you wanna run an idea past me, just ping me. Plurk, PM, IRC, whatevs. I'm accessible.
Warnings: Warnings for possible sexiness? Will note if anything comes up.

Odessa Wander's old life was miserable, but she could never say that it was dull. The idea of a "normal" life always held a certain appeal, but always presented the risk of being boring. Every time she begins to worry that that's what's happening to her in the city of Baedal, there's another curve ball thrown her way. She appreciates it in her own way. Misplaced dreams are interesting enough to break up any perceived monotony, not that Odessa is able to make heads or tails of what she dreamt – what little of it she remembers. But it did distinctly put her off of vodka for the time being.

Mornings are spent at work, with late afternoon and evening being split between running errands and social calls. Much of her days off is spent tending to her replanted garden. She's never had much of a green thumb before, but she finds nurturing her beautiful (and deadly) plants to be a worthwhile hobby, if not always the most rewarding just yet. She's also acquired a puppy that likes to thwart her efforts. She's since put a small fence around the plot on her patio to discourage curious digging. She's fortunate (the dog) that she's so cute – Odessa had to install shelves for her shoes. Fortunately that's a precaution she took before there was a tragic mishap. Still, the fluffy red thing makes a lovely and enthusiastic companion that Odessa loves to trot out. She still dearly misses her cat, but even she has to admit that it's much easier to convince a dog to come along with her wherever she goes.

The dog wins this round.

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Mafaton comes alive (har har) with a night life of its own, but the resident of Luscinia Loft isn't as nocturnal as she once was. She winds her arms around the (frankly gorgeous) woman in her bed and sleepily rests her forehead against her temple. She's deliciously sore and she'll feel it even more acutely come morning, but what she won't do is regret any of it. Irene Adler has this beautiful method of making Odessa feel languid, and quiets her mind in a way few others have achieved.

Which is fortunate, because if Odessa gave too much thought to it, she'd realise her lover has a rather unique insight into how her mind works. Or more specifically, her guilt complex.

Odessa sighs quietly into Irene's hair. "Do you need to get home tonight? Or can you afford to lay here until morning?"

"You know, I'd so much rather stay."

It's true. The comedown after a scene is as important as what happens during it- and Irene does what she does because she doesn't just love it but needs it. She feels as blissfully exhausted as Odessa does, having pushed herself beyond her own beloved complex webs of manipulation and disguise and into something much more primal and simple- a connection. It's so intimate, what they do, and she's not at all ready to end that completely by leaving so soon. It would feel too raw, too sudden, and knock her all off-balance.

Anyway, what's the fun in sleeping alone?

She stretches lazily, pulling Odessa closer before her hand finds hers, stroking a thumb idly over her knuckles. "You're going to be black and blue," she remarks- not without a certain pride.

"Mmm. I was so hoping you'd say that."

Odessa's fingers lace with Irene's, scarred mouth curving slowly into a smile. "I'm fortunate to wear those colours well, I think," she remarks idly. Also fortunate enough to be skilled enough with her make-up that she can cover the worst of it, if she absolutely has to. She's long since perfected the art of concocting plausible stories to mask the true nature of whatever marks are left over from sessions like these, if she feels the need to lie about it at all. Modesty is not Odessa's strong suit.

Neither is guilt, as it happens, but there are exceptions to every rule, she supposes. "Do you mind if I ask you something of a professional question?"

"Your profession or mine?" Irene asks, a slight touch of amusement in her voice. She lets her eyes flicker shut, enjoying the satisfied, drowsy warmth, relaxed but still feeling everything ten times more strongly than usual.

"Go right ahead, darling."

People watching is one of Odessa's favourite activities. Sitting at a restaurant patio that overlooks a busy street, she shares this activity – and a bottle of wine – with Rex Lewis. Lipstick stains orange the filter of an as-of-yet unlit cigarette as she leans against the railing for a better view. "Xenian physiology presents its own unique set of challenges," she theorises without preamble. Sparing a look to her date out of the corner of her (good) eye, she makes an attempt to assess his opinion at a glance. "Though it wouldn't be out of the question."

Having a puppy means having to keep it entertained seemingly at all hours of the day and night. Fortunately, she knows others of her cohort that acquired the pup's littermates, so arranging playdates is actually rather easy. The puppies meet, play a lot, get tired out, and actually sleep through the night! Well... That's how it's supposed to work, at least. It happens about every third time in Odessa's experience. (Maybe that's the charm?)

When she arrives at the park at the agreed time, she's already fairly exasperated. She just hasn't quite gotten the young animal used to teleportation just yet; it tends to spook her. Odessa isn't entirely sure she can blame the creature, but it does mean she walked from Mafaton in heels. The things she'll do to feel comfortable in her own skin. And for the love of her dog.

Not having much of an innate knack for working with plants has meant trips to the library. Datura doesn't grow itself, after all. – Well, okay, it does the hard part itself, but it's up to Odessa to make sure her plants are receiving the right amount of sunlight and water. That means research.

It also means running into Stephanie Brown, which also includes hazy memories of trees with eyes and teeth. Yikes. But also cookies. Neither of them wound up dead, so Odessa has relegated Steph to the category of Good People. (Which is a whole different can of worms for more reasons than Odessa can actually appreciate without all the information.) So, with a couple books tucked under her arm, she makes her way toward the younger woman with a smile. "Good to see you again," she greets in a hush. It is a library after all.

Steph has files, instead of books, but they're apparently not so important that they can't be casually dumped behind the desk, when she sees Odessa, to be dealt with later. Most of the time, she's a good worker, a hard worker, even if she talks back (which she thinks is part of the reason Martel liked her) so she thinks she's allowed to take a break to socialize once in a while.

Odessa is a bit of a mystery to Steph. Before they'd even met, Kaitlyn Quinn had told Steph a little about the other woman, enough to make Steph put her in the potential threat category. Then they'd shared a drunken adventure, and Steph had done a little digging, because that's how Gotham vigilantes work, but she still isn't sure how to treat Odessa.

So she goes with what comes easiest to her, not taking things seriously. When Odessa greets her, Steph replies in an equal hush, but the smirk on her face manages to make it sound conspiratorial rather than deferential to their environment, "I was warned about you."

Well. That's kind of like saying hello.

As it happens, I was warned about you tends to be a fairly standard greeting where Odessa's concerned. Her smile stays fixed just as it was, which is telling in and of itself. There's also a subtle shift in the look in her eye. "Ah. So then you had the pleasure of Ms Quinn's acquaintance before her departure." She knows she isn't alone in the city, but she can think of only one person who would actively warn their friends.

That Steph isn't taking seriously the notion of Odessa as a threat isn't lost on her, but she doesn't for a moment think it means that she has been dismissed as a threat, either. "In my defence, she stole my cat."

Very few people ever get truly put on the not a threat list, because Steph was paranoid even before she started training with Batman. It might not be to the extremem Tim takes it, with his lists of his friends' weaknesses, but she knows how to keep an eye on people.

"She never came across as the type of person to steal someone's cat," Which isn't to say she doesn't believe Odessa, she just has a feeling there's more to the story than is being let on.

"Okay, it's a bit more complicated than that. But she didn't give her back. That's almost the same thing as stealing." Not that she's about to throw stones or anything. Especially considering Quinn isn't even around to defend herself. (Odessa is pretty sure this means she wins by default.) She shrugs, casual about the whole thing. There isn't a whole lot she can do to get her cat back now, after all.

"Did she say I kick puppies? Because that's a dirty lie, and I have no idea how that rumour even got started."

Steph appears to give that due consideration, her fingers tapping idly on her arm, "Finders keepers did go out of style after fifth grade." So Kaitlyn did steal Odessa's cat, is what Steph's saying.

"But no, you don't have to worry about rumors of you kicking puppies. She was vague on why, exactly, you were dangerous," That could be fishing for details, or she could just be teasing.

[open] and if we've come a long way, then i suspect it sideways

» Irene ; Mafaton, Odessa's Home

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» Rex ; Restaurant

» Shrieky ; Park

» Steph ; Library

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