(ง︡'-'︠)ง (
controlledvariable) wrote in
multiversallogs2012-02-24 02:00 am
Entry tags:
I promise I shall never give up
Who: Stephanie Brown, Hermione Granger, Jason Todd
What: Hermione patches Steph up, Jason is a door to door violence salesman
Where: Steph's place!
When: Early morning, just after this
Notes: I am all up in yr log comm. Also I'm bad at html so if this looks weird somehow, bear with me while I fix it
Warnings: Injuries, discussions of violence, Jason Todd
By the time Steph slips into her backyard after the long, slow trip home, it's light outside. She's grateful that she's in a less busy part of Skulkford, because there's no one around to see how pathetic she looks, and there's no one to tip off the militia that she's here. She knows she should have gone to her safe house and gotten changed, but she had a feeling that even if she'd made it there, she wouldn't have made it home. She's just glad she left a spare key hidden by the back door, because she doesn't have the energy to break into her own house, and she hadn't taken a key in case she'd gotten captured.
Once inside, and with the door relocked, Steph drags herself into her bedroom, grabbing a clean towel as she goes past the linen closet. Her suit isn't as waterproof when it's got slashes in it, and the river seeped in, leaving her feeling wet and grimy. With the adrenalin rush gone, she finds her hands shaking as she drops the towel on her bed and picks up her CiD, but she has something she needs to do. It occurred to her on the way home, as she was trying to figure out how not to die, that she knew someone who could help. Hermione and her had discussed healing magic, and Steph is in desperate need of it now.
need a big favour: can you come over asap? having trouble with a work thing, need help with the stuff you were teaching me a few weeks ago.
She thinks it might be too risky to just say I need help, in case the militia are monitoring the network to find whoever was responsible for the altercation tonight. It might be overly paranoid, but she feels justified in being paranoid at the moment, and just hopes that Hermione understands what's not being said; she prays the reference to their magic lessons will be enough.
That done, and once she's sitting on the edge of her bed, she pushes her cowl off, then fumbles for the release on her cape, sighing in relief as the weight leaves her shoulders and the cape and cowl ends up on the floor -- she can pick it up later. Her gloves go next, but when she tries to reach for the zip at the back of her suit, the pain makes her give up that idea instantly. She'll just have to stay in her suit for a little longer, hopefully Hermione will be here soon.

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Although her expression turns wry when Hermione confirms that it's going to have to be applied to the bruises, "My back is the worst part, sorry. I hope you're okay with me taking my top off, or I'm gonna have to go ask Jason for help."
She doesn't actually seem bothered either way by this, her main problem is going to be actually getting out of her suit. Hopefully it'll be possible now that she's a bit more healed.
[[OOC: I figure we can thread with just Hermione and Steph until they go back downstairs, and then Jason can pop back in?]]
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Yes, she's already gotten protective. Older-sisterly, even.
She hesitates for a moment, taking the suit in once more, and inquires- because she's been dying to and because Steph seems slightly brighter- "Steph- I'm sorry- why are you wearing that?"
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Steph stands up and reaches around to find her zip; she can manage it now - thank god - although it still makes her wince in pain. The zip goes down to the small of her back, and then she peels the top half of the suit off so it hangs around her waist. There's a thin lycra top underneath, but Hermione's question makes Steph pause and huff out a little laugh.
"It's my costume," but she knows that doesn't really answer the question, "Do you have comic books in your world? Superheroes and vigilantes, stuff like that?" If Hermione says yes, Steph figures she can put the rest together herself.
And then she just tugs off the lycra top and tosses it aside; leaving her in just a sports bra. The dark bruises are mostly on her back, shoulders, elbows and hips. Her scars are visible as well, but Steph is fighting down the urge to cover them up. Hermione's seen her in costume, so there's an explanation for them. She'll just have to privately deal with her own dislike of letting people see.
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"You're not kidding," she amends, seeing the scars but not commenting on them. It would be cruel- and she knows how it feels to have people bring up old wounds time and time again. Still, the sight of them worries her; she's fallen into the role of protector, once more, like she so often does with heroes.
She daubs on the ointment, brows drawn, and bites her tongue on the matter. It's not her place.
She does have a query she can't help, though, which is- "Don't the Militia hate you? I mean- I just can't see them taking very well to vigilantes."
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"Definitely not kidding," she confrms, then after a moment turns so Hermione can put the ointment on her back as well. It feels weird to have someone else look after her, she's so used to doing it herself.
The question almost makes her laugh, even though the situation isn't funny at all, "Who do you think did this?" To be fair, it's not like the militia came after her; she went for them, but still, "If they didn't hate me before, they do now." Now that's she killed one of theirs, but she's not ready to say that out loud.
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She'd known, of course, about what the Militia could and would do- to innocents. And it had sickened her to the core, had made something in her want to rebel and revolt and- yes- hurt them. It would be better if they were just murderers and criminals. They aren't. They're in charge; they're meant to be there to protect and- how dare they?
"Those-"
She cuts her self off, applies more of the cream in silence for a few minutes.
"What were you doing?" she asks, in a tightly controlled tone.
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She visibly relaxes when Hermione starts applying the cream again, then it's her turn to go still at the question.
"I don't know if you saw the more recent transmissions," There were a lot of them, and they went to all different places, "One of them showed a man beating kids..."
She takes a breath, steadying herself to say what she needs to, because she can't think of a decent lie and maybe she owes it to Hermione, "He won't hurt anyone again."
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Perhaps she ought to tell Steph that violence doesn't solve problems. And then she looks at the bruises, the scars, thinks- she couldn't undo her own suit after what they did, thinks- a man beating kids-
How could she possibly have the gall to even think it? How could she ever be so stupid as to tell her violence doesn't solve problems when she can see all this?
Anyway- there was the war.
"Good."
When the word leaves her lips, it frightens her, but she doesn't regret it at all. Quickly, though, she moves on, shaking her head and putting the lid back on the jar with unnecessary force- her hands trembling slightly, but not much. "I didn't see anything. I had no idea."
A beat.
"Steph, if I can help- and I think I can- I want to."
It seems stupid, embarrassing, but she holds out, her expression earnest and positively shining with a desire to do something. She's struck by that familiar feeling of you, what could you do, a bookworm with no mates in a city she doesn't understand- what are you going to do, research at them- but she ignores it. She can help. She's a war hero. She's a Gryffindor. And she'll do what she thinks is right.
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The offer doesn't quite surprise her - she's seen what Hermione can do - but it's nice to know that her friends are the sort of people who will make that offer, "Thank you," It feels alright to say it now, "I think you can, too, and I'm more than happy to have your help."
Steph didn't just call Hermione because she's handy with a wand, she called her because she's trusts her and this only confirms that.
"I have a feeling this might be why Jason's here, too. A few nights ago, my friend and I went after another militia agent featured in a different transmission. We ran into Jason and another vigilante, but I idn't know it was him at the time." She'd still backed him up when they voted to kill Jennings; she wonders what Jason thought about that. Another Bat willing to kill. She also wonders if she should warn Hermione about what the man downstairs is capable of.
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She feels on edge, super-charged, and yet riding it out, in control. It's a good feeling. Let's do something about this. Scratch the 'good'; it's a brilliant feeling.
"If there are a lot of people willing to do this-" euphemistically referring to fighting against the Militia as if she's wary of saying the words aloud, and perhaps she should be "-we'll need a certain level of coordination."
She glances towards the door. "Ready to go down and see what he has to say?"
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"Yeah, I'm--" A pause, she looks down at herself, standing there in a half peeled of Batgirl costume, a sports bra and covered in bruises and ointment, "I'm half-naked. You can head down if you want, I'll get changed."
She moves without waiting for a response, sitting down on the bed, but as she starts tugging off the rest of her costume she looks up at Hermione, "Feel free to turn him into a frog if he's annoying."
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There's one glass in the sink and he looks at it for a second, clearly debating whether or not to wash it while he's here. Steph would probably find that snide even if it's not meant to be. It's just there, he's bored, and he's trying not to snoop.
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And then she's gone, padding down the stairs, her mind whirling.
She wants to see the transmissions- wants to know what the plan is. And she wants to know, too, who 'Oracle' is. But there will be time for questions, she thinks as she slips into the kitchen, making a conscious effort to find him.
"Hullo," she says, voice even, sounding like she's determined not to be put off or intimidated. "Steph'll be down in a moment." Nothing about her voice or demeanour suggests she's going to leave them alone, either; her rather prim and unassuming look is distinctly deceptive.
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"So you heal." It's conversational, the kind of carefully non-interrogative that indicates that's what he'd really like to do but has at least learned to refrain, to invite an answer instead.
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"I do magic," she corrects. "Healing's one of a plethora of applications for it. But yes, I...can heal, to a reasonable extent, though I've never had the formal training that actual Healers by profession go through."
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The staff of the Library of Blessed St Brian are collectively terrifying, really.
"Dueling is another part of magic," she responds, rather carefully, as if 'fighting' isn't a verb she wants to be associated with. As if she can't blow holes in things, basically. As if she isn't particularly fond of, for instance, fire spells.
A beat, and-- "I'm fairly sure you're angling, so I ought to tell you that Steph's told me quite a bit and I'm pre-" Well. No. She's not prepared to help. She's going to help. "I'll help."
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"Good. We need it. But you should know there won't be much dueling. There's gonna be fighting and killing."
It seems reasonable to surmise that dueling may have a different usage for her, but at the same time, he thinks her choice of words there was deliberate. In turn, his voice is even and deliberate as well.
"I only mention it because one of us didn't want to kill the Militia member the other night. I'd prefer to know about those kinds of views before we get out there and get each other killed."
The calm neutrality of it only serves to underscore how very far from neutral he must feel about this matter.
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(Was it Steph, the one person who had argued against killing?)
"No one's above self-defence, or defending someone else," she says, which is something of a non-answer, meant to give herself time. "There are some things you have to do." Hard to feel guilty about devoting years towards killing Voldemort, after all. That wasn't murder. No, she's proud of that. "'Have to' being the important phrase. I'm not a pacifist, but I'm not a murderer or an assassin, I'm-"
A soldier? Again?
She pauses, works out her next statement in her head.
"I'm willing to do what it takes to make things better, not to get revenge or to make more people suffer, no matter what they've done and what they deserve," she says, meeting his eyes steadily. "I think there's usually a better way than killing."
Usually.
want Steph to come back in after this?
Wordlessly, he offers her a slip of paper with his CiD number on it.
sure!
"Thank you. There."
And she's back- going from war hero to awkward librarian in ten seconds flat.
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She feels a little more human, now. Enough that she approaches the kitchen in complete silence, listening to the conversation from just outside the entrance for a few moments before slipping in next to Hermione. She won't be put off by how casual Jason looks in her kitchen; if he's going to act like he belongs there, she can act like she doesn't care.
"Can I get you anything?" It's mostly directed at Hermione, Steph's hand light on her shoulder, but she glances at Jason as well, an eyebrow quirked as if to say the question is for him as well.
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"Can I have your friend's number?"
It is such a careless request, except of course, it's about Kate and how they killed Jennings.
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"No, it's alright, thank you," she insists. She hasn't put her CiD away, and fidgets with it a little.
It feels rather incongruous, such everyday demands when they're sitting together plotting something which could get them all killed. She's reminded of- well. Of Ron and of Harry. And she quickly closes the door on that memory, bringing herself determinedly back to the present.
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"You won't make me regret this," It isn't a question, or even a threat. There is no or else, because it's an order. Steph is well aware that she isn't in a position to give orders to Jason, but it's Kate they're talking about (who else could it be?), and she absolutely doesn't give a shit what position she's in; Jason won't mess with Kate.
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