tushanshu_logs | We built this city, but not on rock 'n' roll. Probably.

Characters: Nita Prentiss and open
Date: Mid-May (or thereabouts; nothing's time-sensitive)
Location: Around Keeliai
Situation: Rebuilding
Warnings/Rating: None, will edit if necessary

Note: Prose or action is fine. I have no strong preference.

There were probably people who didn't have their city destroyed out from under them on a regular basis, but Nita didn't know any of those people. Of course, this would have been less of a problem if she'd ever chosen to live anywhere besides Atlantis or New York, but who'd do that? Consequently, she was quite familiar with rebuilding, though usually in a less hands-on sense...but this world had no Credit Suisse branch, so her physical heritage was turning out to be rather more useful than her financial one. Someone who could fly while carrying a few hundred pounds of bricks or holding a multi-ton beam in place made a pretty good replacement for a crane--and Nita was even self-operating, too.

After delivering her latest load of supplies a few stories up to the more skilled crafters who could use the tools, she touched down on the street in front of the construction site, bare feet making no sound on the shell, and dusted off her hands against her thighs. It made her legs dirty and her hands not substantially cleaner.

"Oh, hey. Here to help?" she asked with a smile. "We could use it."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Namorita Prentiss." Nita started to take Mike's offered hand, then noticed what a mess hers still was, and stopped halfway. "Um."

Mike made up for the distance giving her hand a firm shake. "I don't mind a little grease and dirt."

Once free, he returned the hand to his pocket, the casual stance suiting him just fine. He might be more casual if not for the continuous irritation of the viruses at play. The walk was more to get some fresh air and clear his head than to specifically check up on anything.

His eyes traveled over her appearance, noticing some things different than he was used to, before he then looked back up to the in progress building they were beside. "How's the construction coming?"

"I do." Nita wrinkled her nose. A mess wasn't going to stop her from doing anything, but dirt didn't stick to you underwater, and she regarded the fact that it did on land as one the surface's less appealing characteristics.

"It's going well enough, I guess." She followed Mike's gaze to the frame of the building going up behind her. "The kedan have the blueprints. I'm just doing the heavy lifting."

He gave a smile at her disdain for being dirty. Mike wasn't exactly the type to roll around in dirt or spend unnecessary amounts of time outdoors - he hadn't been camping for awhile - but he didn't feel any particular aversion to filth either. It was part of the job sometimes and he would take being covered in dirt over being covered in blood any day. The thought made him frown a little. Then he realized it and smiled again.

"Are you, uh.. a metahuman? Can I ask?" It was hard to know what he should and shouldn't be asking. In his line of work, people made their skills apparent and there was rarely harm in asking details for what a person could do or what experience or education they had. Here, Dick had already warned him to be careful, about how not all metas liked talking about their abilities or letting people know about them.

"Yep." Nita stuck out one leg and waggled her foot around to draw attention to the small white wings on her ankles.

There were also her pointed ears, strangely high-arched eyebrows, and gills (closed tight on the surface and thus nearly invisible), but those were all perfectly normal Atlantean features and it didn't occur to her that they might mark her as "metahuman."

Mike glanced down to notice the wings with her attention drawn to them. He'd certainly noticed her landing, the ears, and the eyebrows, but he suspected there were many reasons to look different in other universes. Besides, to him, metahuman meant human and was a way to differentiate powers versus an alien race.

"Had any problems with anyone here because of it?"

"Some of the kedan were standoffish in the beginning, but they came around," she said with a shrug. It had been due largely to Nita's remorseless blunt-force friendless rather than any real change in the zeitgeist, but in her experience, practically everyone was nice if you gave them a chance to be.

"Glad to hear it." He gave another smile and then tilted his head in a partial nod, suggesting that they continue walking instead of standing around. "Do you have time to take a walk?"

He took a step to encourage her, though he wouldn't go farther without a confirmation from her. Mike recognized that she was attractive and her seeming unwillingness to be put down for her gender or abilities made him like her all the more. He found himself interested in learning more about her and, in particular, her experiences here. It was nice just talking to people.

"Oh, sure. I'll hear 'em if they start yelling for me." Nita fell into step without hesitation, her long blond ponytail swinging with the movement. Though the idea Mike might have had ungentlemanly intentions didn't even occur to her, Nita was more or less invulnerable to anyone less impressive than a supervillain, and it certainly contributed to her amiability. It was easy to be outgoing when a misjudgment would end with her pinning a creep to the ground and lecturing him about manners.

Of course, no one back home was foolish enough to try, thanks to the publicity her much more famous cousin gave to an Atlantean hybrid's capabilities.

Mike's smile widens in encouragement before he shifts his attention forward to focus primarily on where he's walking. He's oblivious to her strengths and it doesn't occur to them to test her or press his luck. Instead, he's content enjoying a nice jaunt with a pretty lady, hands in his pockets and the occasional glance towards the sky reassuring him that not all is lost.

"You seem like you've been here awhile." It's a deliberate observation, allowing her to choose whether to respond to it as a question or simply dismiss it as a statement.

Mike was talking to Namorita. Reticence was not something to expect.

"Since day one. I washed up with the first batch of Foreigners, but most of us are gone now." Thinking about it made a dent in even Nita's cheerfulness. "Things have gotten a lot worse in two years."

"Two years?" The question is immediate, before he can even think about stopping the words. Mike can sense the downturn in her mood with the thought, but the longest he'd heard tell of was around 18 months. It was also good to know that she was among the first, that some of them remained and that none had come sooner. "That's a long time. There were no foreigners here before then?"

"Yeah, a couple months shy, assuming I haven't lost count." She sighed and quickly latched onto his next question, because her long enforced vacation was a less than happy subject.

"I dunno. There could have been waves before us who all died and the kedan didn't say anything about it, but there sure wasn't anyone left when I got here." Nita wasn't exactly incurious, but detective work that didn't involve just wandering blithely into scary ruins and hitting anything that popped up until it went back down wasn't her forte, and she had never thought to ask around much about Keeliai history.

We built this city, but not on rock 'n' roll. Probably.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject