Light 'em up

[starcharter]

Characters: EVERYBODY
Date: sundown on November 29th to sunrise on November 30th
Location: A plaza in Earth
Situation: The population of Keeliai could use a little warmth. So Chekov set stuff on fire and invited everyone over.
Warnings/Rating: None, but please put something in your comment header if necessary.

On Wednesday, everyone received the following audio message (and text attachments in English and Russian) from (1) Pavel Chekov in their inboxes:

“Hello. I would like to invite you to a bonfire in Earth sector on Friday at sundown. Please feel free to bring friends.”


A plaza in Earth sector is buzzing with activity-- most of it from one young man. He spends the day lugging folding tables and pushing wheelbarrows of supplies into the plaza. As the day wears on, several entrepreneurial kedan set up stands. By sundown, the plaza is lit up with three large, roaring bonfires. Most of the ice and snow has melted away, leaving a few patches here and there in the furthest corners of the plaza. One patch a bit away from the fires is completely devoid of snow and ice-- it's a sort of dance floor or performance area. Some music is playing out of one of the upper windows of the buildings overlooking the plaza. It's varies from quick and frenzied to slow and soothing. Of course, anyone is welcome to claim the floor to perform a magic show or do a little singing of their own.

There's a hodgepodge of various folding tables set with the essentials: raw vegetables, the closest equivalent of marshmallows Chekov could find (next to the chocolate and graham cracker substitutes), and sausages. There are skewers and tongs lying around should anyone need them. He also brought a few jugs of water, which are refilled periodically. It's not much, but it's the best he could do with a limited budget and not a lot of time. The kedan have taken the opportunity to sell what Chekov couldn't bring-- hot beverages and food, blankets, scarves and gloves, and several other simple wares.

It's not a grand setup, but there are roaring bonfires, food, and good company.


(Posting this slightly early because of Thanksgiving chaos. Let me know if you have any questions)

Comments

Damian

[demon_brat]

Damian wasn't exactly a part of the revels. He didn't feel like celebrating, honestly. But half the time when there was a festival, something odd happened - and, in case something happened tonight, he was out to keep an eye on people.

Not directly under the fires, but quietly circulating around and among all of them.

[unetrustworthy]

He was alone. Good.

Not because he deserved to be (although...), but because Midii would rather prefer they not have an audience for this. It had been difficult enough trying to muster up the courage to approach him at all without the fear of knowing somebody would be listening in. Watching. As it was, she knew there was a good chance at least one person would see them together.

A risk she would just have to take. She'd promised Kyle, after all, and the young man had been so kind and helpful to her, she felt like she owed it to him to keep that promise.

"...hello, Damian."

Her words were soft. Barely audible over the crackling of the fire. She maintained her distance. A few feet back. Waiting to see what he would say...or, more importantly, do.

[demon_brat]

Damian didn't do deer-in-the-headlights - for one thing, that wasn't the kind of reaction he had. For another... well, this wasn't the first time he'd talked with Midii, since that fight (since Eponine's maybe revelation?), even if it was the first time she talked with Damian.

But.

He gave a glance in her direction, then looked down.

He had heard Eponine's repetitions of how he had hurt Midii. It hadn't been his intent, but he had done it, and he wasn't trying to take it back, exactly.

At least he wasn't trying to aggravate it?

His voice was almost as quiet.

"Good evening."

[unetrustworthy]

He didn't use her name. Either one.

That was...she had no idea what that could mean. Either he was acknowledging her dislike of him using her surname, or he had regressed to no longer giving her one in his mind at all. (Or she was over-thinking things, as she tended to do, but of course that thought had yet to cross her mind.) All she knew right then was that he still wasn't calling her Midii.

Pay more attention to his actions than his words. The advice she had been given. So she tried. Zooming in on body language and intent. He glanced her way. Recognizing her presence. He did not move to greet her, or even invite her to sit.

So she remained standing.

"Kyle came to talk to me."

No use beating around the bush. Or softening the reality of the main reason why she was here, now, initiating conversation. They both knew something would have had to occur for it to happen, considering it had been...how many days now?

[demon_brat]

He wasn't sitting, either, though her remaining motionless was... odd. So he motioned towards one of the benches that had been cleared of ice and snow, should she wish to use it. It wasn't a wave, exactly, not nearly that casual. But it wasn't anywhere near as commanding as pointing to the bench, either. Just... motion.

Then Damian's face softened, slightly. It was usually easy to keep up the pretenses of being merely acquaintances, with the Lantern. But not always. And not now.

"Rayner is a good person." His voice was warm enough to show he wasn't putting distance between himself and the man. "Being trapped here is not easy on him."

[unetrustworthy]

She hesitated, but eventually accepted his discreet offer to sit. Her every movement was slow and deliberate. Body language tense. Guarded.

"He cares a lot about you. I could tell."

[demon_brat]

Damian hesitated, but then nodded, slowly. "Like Grayson. My Grayson. But Rayner didn't have to." Another pause, and he did look at her, finally. "Not many people are aware of the fact."

It wasn't exactly a secret. But it was something that they didn't exactly scream off the rooftops, because it could be used against them.

It was hers to keep or betray, as she chose.

[unetrustworthy]

'Not many people'. But he told her. It was a seemingly insignificant detail, only she could tell it meant something to him.

Her expression remained neutral.

"No. He didn't have to. He wanted to. Shouldn't that mean more?"

[demon_brat]

"I do not know. It... surprised me even more."

And realizing the depth of how much Grayson cared had been a very great surprise, indeed.

[unetrustworthy]

"That he cares so much? ...or that somebody cares at all?"

Had it been anyone else, the question might have sounded harsh. Almost cruel. Her intentions were neither, and it showed in her tone. She was still mad, but her words were anything but spiteful right then.

[demon_brat]

"The latter. I... they both know the things I have done. The things I can still do."

He wouldn't even have shut her out if it sounded harsh. Harsh was also honest.

"They both look instead at what I actually do. Them, and Brown." He closed his eyes for a moment. Her, he still missed, twice over. "And they try to make that easier. Less... incomprehensible."

He opened his hand, palm to her, referring to the conversation they had when he had been three. "Understanding is one way in which I can take help. Because I can check things, if I need to. Verify the conclusions."

[unetrustworthy]

She did exactly what Kyle asked. Watched him closely. Putting more weight into his movements. They were speaking of other people aloud--Richard, Kyle, and whoever this Brown individual was (Midii didn't recognize the name)--but his gestures spoke of more. It was a reference to her as well. Past conversations shared.

"That's what Kyle told me. To pay attention to the things you do. Not so much the things you say."

[demon_brat]

Paaaause.

"I do too say things that are important!"

Indignation was a go.

[modernized]

It had been two weeks since Terry arrived. Over that time he slowly became knowledgeable in the workings of his new surroundings, not so much the fish out of water he was when he arrived. To say he's happy about the circumstances is stretching it (the idea of time being frozen back in his world only worries more than comforts) but it's all about adapting.

That said, he picked up a little tidbit over the network from an angry woman calling out a certain "Damian Wayne" and it didn't take Terry long to deduce that this person had to be the Robin he met his first night. The one he has no intel about. Frustrating, but he'll live. Rolling with the punches is what he does best, if nothing else.

So when he catches sight of a small kid fitting the quota (black hair, blue eyes, angry scowl) he's certain he has his match. Rocky start yes, but Terry is more certain now of where he stands (on thin ice) and decides to approach, carrying a strange looking fruit in his hand. Don't ask him what it is - it looked interesting enough to fork over a couple juulan for. He might eat it if he's feeling risky.

"Nice night, huh?" He starts casually, walking up by Damian's side. He's sure if he goes from behind the kid might freak and try to kick him into a wall on reflex.

[demon_brat]

Terry... does have good instincts, at least. Approaching Damian Wayne from behind is usually a recipe for disaster.

As it is, the boy looks up at him, then back out to the periphery of the fire.

"I see that you have located clothes."

It might have been a joke, even, if his heart were at all in it. As things are, he's not at all sure what he wants, anymore, tonight. But it doesn't sound repulsively unpleasant, at least?

[modernized]

He breathes out a quick laugh at that - of course Damian caught his message over the console - and cracks a smile. Terry doesn't mind. He knew what he was getting into and he's been in more embarrassing situations that his pride can be swallowed when needed.

"Yeah, bunch of people offered up some spares. Real friendly of them."

The tone of Damian's words is curious, but right now he's thankful the kid isn't looking at him the same way he did the first night they met. He's half-tempted to ask how Damian's been, but he's certain he wouldn't get a straight answer. Bat-people can make an Olympic sport out of sidestepping questions.

[demon_brat]

">Tt.< "

Damian spreads his arms slightly. Mostly to indicate that his spares would obviously not fit. At all.

As to how he is, well. There is an unsolved case, an top of everything being Complicated in what passes for his personal life.

"That is a change. From Gotham."

Damian Wayne: not good at all at small talk.

[modernized]

It's the thought that counts.

"Yeah, tell me about it. Wouldn't even bother pulling the stunt I did there - it'd probably go viral with what a pathetic dreg I am."

Self-depreciation is always a good way to get others talking he finds. Even if it's clear Damian is short spoken, he still wants to get to know the kid. If he could keep up a conversation with the elderly human wall that is Bruce Wayne, he thinks he can manage this too.

[demon_brat]

It's not so much that Damian is short-spoken as there are layers and layers of conversation between them... and he's already emotionally battered down. (Don't ask, preteen drama is often too much for even Batman.)

"You were not the first who needed to make such a request, and I rather doubt you will be the last." Beat. "Though many of the females prefer to say they showed up in their pajamas. Probably not without reason. Of course, when Zatara managed to age people up and down, there was less of a chance to use that excuse."

... and his mind is back to Midii. Of course. He barely resists snorting at himself in disgust.

[modernized]

A light snort.

"She did that huh? Impressive. And annoying. Though not surprising for one of the world's greatest magicians."

From what he read up on her file it doesn't seem too far a stretch that she could change peoples ages. He eyes the strange food in his hand carefully, giving it a short toss in the air before catching it and carefully eyes Damian. ...Yeah something is definitely up with the kid tonight, though really he isn't sure what. The problem with not having intel - nothing to fall back on. What a slag.

"You doing alright?" He cautions a ask, thinking the worst he could get is an angry look. More than use to getting glared at really, what with the company he keeps.

[demon_brat]

Damian's face hardens, the anger pretty obvious.

"So, carelessness, negligence, and getting at least two, possibly more people killed through underpreparedness and ignorance is not surprising from the world's greatest magician? You ought to have higher standards, McGinnis."

Sorry, Terry, you got him angry. He lets things slip, then.

He swivels his head back, looking straight ahead.

"It is of no importance."

[modernized]

Woah. Ok, that sure was an abrupt change of pace. And here he thought he was safe with stating facts. Looks like someone wasn't happy about whatever Zatanna did.

"Ok, ok, sorry, my bad," he quickly tries to smooth over the anger, raising his hand a little in defense. Yikes this kid was a tough nut. Were all the Robins like this before they left the nest? He doesn't think so and he hopes not either.

He lets his hand drop when Damian goes back to looking at the fire and shrugs, the sudden outburst making things more awkward than before. If that was even possible.

"Well, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here. If it makes you feel better, or something."

[demon_brat]

">Tt.< She used a kedan spell, with no precautions and lack of complete understanding. There were ages changed, bodies changed, and powers changed. Jor-El and Kal-El were without their powers, and people were killed with those of one of them. She could have avoided that if she had only waited for the translation of the entire work, before attempting to do anything from it."

Sorry, Terry. Zatanna is currently on Damian's would-kill-if-not-for-promise list, and he's not likely to be either lax or complimentary towards her.

"Most of that information was communicated over the network, including her apology." Without missing a beat, "and I have people I can talk to, although what is happening at this time is private."

Pause, and a little softer, if still stiff - Terry is a stranger, after all.

"I appreciate the offer."

[modernized]

So it wasn't her magic, just something borrowed. The name Jor-El doesn't ring bells, but he knows well who Kal-El is to get the idea. If someone died while using his power...he can definitely get where Damian is coming from, even if the reaction is almost mercilessly sharp to name alone. But his lips twitch a little into a small smile when the kid seems to warm up a little. Okay, a very small little. About as much as a Wayne possibly can warm up at the very least. The kid is definitely his father's son.

"No problem, I understand."

And, without thinking in the moment, he takes the piece of fruit in his hand and bites into it -- immediate regret. This was definitely a food of beauty, less of taste. He swallows down the piece in his mouth with only a second chew and grimaces.

"Ugh, why did I do that," he mutters to himself, shooting the fruit a disgusted look. "I'm going to wash that out of my mouth now. You go back to doing your thing."

He'll offer a wave and walk off there, trying not to shudder as the taste in his mouth.

[demon_brat]

Damian startles at the reaction, and, when Terry bounds off, he's right there beside him, pointing him in the direction of available water. He knows the place well, all right?

Only then does he get a good look on the fruit (it might be something ill-suited for humans, right?) and >Tt.< - s.

"That one is very well-tasting - broiled, or fried. But I would recommend you stay away from the sea prunes. A small number of foreigners enjoy their taste, but... they are rare."