✧Zatanna Zatara✧ (
backwordscompatible) wrote in
tushanshu_logs2015-10-08 07:39 pm
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Entry tags:
[Closed] Signed, Sealed, Delivered...
Characters: Zatanna Zatara & Jack Frost
Date: early October
Location: Starting off at the Welcome Center rooftop, then who knows?
Situation: Discussions of Letters and...Home
Warnings/Rating: Possible talk of vigilante life & minor violent situations.
All in all, Zatanna had a pretty good day.
The sun was out, and while the weather was starting to cool again, she hardly ever felt it. One of the pleasant side-effects of her charm (as in, the necklace kind) was that she could still wandering around in Autumn weather in little more than a sleeveless top and shorts. Capturing as many rays of sunlight as she could.
In fact, by the time she returned from her errands, she and the sun weren't quite finished with one another yet. The day's haul was placed in her room in the back, and from there, she opted to climb out the window and float up to the rooftop. Assuming a place on the ledge over the front of the building, legs idling dangling over the edge. It had been a while since she'd been up there. Rooftops tended to remind her of home. Specifically, the brooding part of home. Not that she was there to brood. Not really.
But she was there to think of home. Specifically, a certain letter that she'd received the previous month:
Hey, mini-me.
Love, big me.
Familiar handwriting aside, Zatanna knew the letter had to have come from herself, if for no other reason than the added note at the very bottom:
P.S. -- I don't care what Dad tells us, do NOT trust a guy with a puppet. Ever.
...if she hadn't been so busy shuddering at a certain childhood memory, she might have laughed. Her one greatest, darkest secret. So dark, she had forgotten about it entirely until this alleged older version of herself reminded her of it.
"But why running shoes?" She wondered to herself, placing the letter down in her lap and leaning back. Eyes closing, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Contemplating what all this could possibly mean.
Date: early October
Location: Starting off at the Welcome Center rooftop, then who knows?
Situation: Discussions of Letters and...Home
Warnings/Rating: Possible talk of vigilante life & minor violent situations.
All in all, Zatanna had a pretty good day.
The sun was out, and while the weather was starting to cool again, she hardly ever felt it. One of the pleasant side-effects of her charm (as in, the necklace kind) was that she could still wandering around in Autumn weather in little more than a sleeveless top and shorts. Capturing as many rays of sunlight as she could.
In fact, by the time she returned from her errands, she and the sun weren't quite finished with one another yet. The day's haul was placed in her room in the back, and from there, she opted to climb out the window and float up to the rooftop. Assuming a place on the ledge over the front of the building, legs idling dangling over the edge. It had been a while since she'd been up there. Rooftops tended to remind her of home. Specifically, the brooding part of home. Not that she was there to brood. Not really.
But she was there to think of home. Specifically, a certain letter that she'd received the previous month:
Hey, mini-me.
If I know you--and really, why wouldn't I?--it's best to keep this letter short,
so I'll get right to the point: always be sure to keep a pair of running shoes
on hand in the event Batman shows up in your dressing room with
a pig and a favor to ask.
Love, big me.
Familiar handwriting aside, Zatanna knew the letter had to have come from herself, if for no other reason than the added note at the very bottom:
P.S. -- I don't care what Dad tells us, do NOT trust a guy with a puppet. Ever.
...if she hadn't been so busy shuddering at a certain childhood memory, she might have laughed. Her one greatest, darkest secret. So dark, she had forgotten about it entirely until this alleged older version of herself reminded her of it.
"But why running shoes?" She wondered to herself, placing the letter down in her lap and leaning back. Eyes closing, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Contemplating what all this could possibly mean.
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"Hey," he greeted, flopping down next to her. "We haven't come up here in a while," he observed. Things with the Chihuelans in the city hadn't left much time for relaxation.
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"Probably because we haven't had a reason to in a while." Or maybe too many of them. She peeked one eye open, which made her look like he had caught her mid-wink. "I wanted to work on my tan some more."
It was even more amusing because it was, in some regards, true. Under the summer sunlight, her Italian-born skin had taken on a healthy bronze tone. Coupled with her jet-black hair and red top, she looked a visual polar opposite to Jack.
"What about you? Thinking of putting some color in those cheeks of yours?" One of which she reached out with a finger to gently poke.
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He puffed out his cheek at her touch, laughing. "I think we'd have better luck with a bag full of makeup."
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"I think so too. I mean, we've been here so long..." For half a second, her smile almost faded before she caught herself. "...that it's no wonder we've started to rub off on them. Plus, who could say no to fun costumes and candy?"
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"You think there's going to be a costume party again?" he asked. "And then think about it, Thanksgiving'll be along not too long after that."
And with it, the cold weather. Although this year had been the best yet for his tolerance to the heat, he was looking forward to the inevitable cold snap.
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"I kind of hope so. It's been a while since the last time we had one."
Her eyes shimmered with nostalgia. Thinking back. There was the Winter Masquerade a few years back. Not longer after she'd first arrived. It had been both exciting and confusing--back during the days when she'd yet to learn that "Robin" and "Dick" were the same boy, yet harboring growing feelings for them both.
And the Bacchanal. When she'd hosted that card game later in the night. Just a chill gathering among friends, completely drama free.
"I didn't realize you were so excited for Thanksgiving. All these years, I pegged you for a Christmas boy."
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"Thanksgiving's always been cool, except in Canada when it comes weirdly early. Besides, Christmas has always belonged to North, so.. you know, kind of easy to get overshadowed when you've got him around."
Despite the words, he's clearly not upset about it anymore. There was once a time when he'd felt resentful, but no longer.
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It was impossible not to notice. After so many years together and so many memories shared, they had reached a point where she could easily recognize how he would have reacted to a situation way back when, versus how he reacted now.
(Which...she honestly wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.)
"One thing you definitely aren't here is overshadowed. Not anymore."
Not for a while.
"But back to Halloween..." (Or even Mischief Night, which--now that she thought about it--sounded a lot more like him than even Christmas.) "Plans?"
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Then again, free candy.
...again, it was a noticeable change from the fourteen-year-old girl Jack had met years before. The one who flinched at the sight of children because she simply didn't know what to do with them.
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"It's entirely possible. So I would choose wisely if I were you, Frosty."
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(Spoilers: she had)
She opened her mouth in attempt to explain, then shrugged before deciding he was better off reading it for himself. So she wordlessly passed it over.