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bakerstreet2025-03-27 03:23 pm
santanachamp) wrote in bakerstreet2025-03-27 03:23 pm
Entry tags:
picture prompt meme;
— Comment with your character and any preferences.
— Others will leave a picture (or two, or three...)
— Reply to them with a prose/action/text setting based on the picture.
— Link to any pictures that are NSFW, please.
— Be aware that this meme will be image-heavy!
no subject
The phone she's still working on mastering use of has an unread message: a picture of two glasses, one with more missing than the other. Jason's been gone for a few days now. 'Something to take care of.' Such a common turn of phrase with those from his...side of things. Memories dance at the edges of her mind of another who often had something of his own to take care of in a rather dour city.
Another picture comes in, revealing that very city with it's halo of lights caused by the flash of the camera. Perhaps he means it only as a way to check in, confirm he's still among the living, or perhaps not. Intentions mean very little when one cares as much as she does— or when one wonders if the 'something' might simply be missing his home. Or business in that city. A flight there is hardly work, not when she's fairly certain she even recognizes the view from some ghost of a memory.
So she goes. Flies fast like a comet burning through the night sky, sending a text as she approaches the city: ]
Do you mind company with your 'something to take care of'
[ Not that she leaves much time for any sort of response. No, she's there descending down to him with a fiery trail tapering off behind her. ]
Hello, Jason. [ All she can do is hope the answer was no, because she's already there. There's a gentle smile on her face as she leans back against the same car he's resting on to look at the city. As far as she can recall she's never been exceedingly fond of the place, but there's memories here somewhere. She tilts her head as she casts a glance over to him with bright green eyes. ] I wish I'd come sooner, I might have liked to join you for drinks.
( no worries! i combine things here and there anyway since dc just did what they wanted anyway haha hope this works fine! )
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[Believe it or not, there’s a hell of a lot more than just one way to be homesick. Whether its for the fleeting memory of a tropical planet light years away, or city streets filled with ghosts; constant reminders you’re no longer welcome there. Jason's not the type to take Kori's hospitality for granted—but he's not all that good at cooling his heels, either. Inevitably, he gets a reason to head out.
She doesn’t need to hear his justifications for it, and she doesn’t pry about the whats or the whys, and she doesn’t insist on coming with him even if he’s pretty sure she would if he ever asked. And he appreciates all that about her—it’s already kind of unsettling to have someone steady enough in his life who might just understand why going back to Gotham is so complicated for him. (But also, maybe, why he can’t find it in him to stay away forever. Might be better off if he could.) Still, the backup is a luxury he doesn’t lean on. He’s hesitant to ask her to come around with him, and it's not just because Batman gets all squirrely about metas in the city, and he’s just as happy to avoid that. Not just (though not least) because he’s not in a hurry to drag her into his bullcrap if he can help it.
(Just, well. Dick’s done an admirable job of avoiding the topic of whatever had happened between them. And whatever Kori’s feelings on the matter may be, he’s not actually very sure. Not his business, really, and he's not about to dump that back on her. He can resent Dick enough for the both of them, anyway.)
He was pretty busy, at first. And then he was definitely...not in a mood for talk. But a little trickle of unasked-of guilt sets in around day three or four of his radio silence, and eventually he checks in. Sort of. Snaps the odd picture to send over without commentary and figures that’s enough for signs of life. Reminders for her that he’s still kicking. Reminders for him that there’s a whole world and a whole friend out there beyond the city to send a lifeline to, if he wanted to take it.
He's here on “family” business, such as it is. But whatever it was he split to take care of, it seems to have run its course, or near enough of it. He’s in his civvies, the collar of his jacket turned up against the brisk air in a way that ought to make him look casual, but just sort of serves to highlight the new bruises on his knuckles and his jaw and the fact that he probably hasn’t slept very much since he left.
Y’know. Typical family business.
The hill he's settled on has a good view of the city. He’d come up here to be alone, but his text messages have other ideas for him. He leans against the hood of the car and walks an unlit cigarette over his knuckles while he chews on an answer and kicks his boots out to cross them at the ankle. Part of him must have known she wouldn't have needed one, because he instinctively watches for a bright point in the sky, and he's not exactly surprised when he finds it.
Starfire is all warm colors and bright greens against the cool Gotham greys. She couldn't look more out of place if she tried. He surprises himself by being kind of glad for the company when he finally gets it, despite himself—she earns herself a little bit of warmth in return. A little loosening of his too-tense posture. A slight slant of a smile.]
Hey there, Princess.
[He sounds kind of muted, (tired? maybe.) but otherwise… fine. A little fond, if you know how to listen for it. She regrets her timing, and he waves a hand dismissively at the distant lights of Gotham. Eh.]
Don’t worry, you didn’t miss out on anything very fun.
[You don’t come to Gotham for fun. (Read: he probably wasn’t very good company at the time. Maybe that'll improve, now.) The dives around here are better for drowning your sorrows or looking for fights. ...Or both.]
no subject
Or...perhaps with a bit of judgement if she were to include bits about Dick. That's a topic she's done her utmost to avoid in almost it's entirety. As much for Jason as it is for her. (Or so she would insist. Perhaps it's for Dick too. For the tumultuous relationship between the two boys. And largely for Kori herself, to avoid the pain the memories all bring. ) Just as she usually avoids Gotham itself.
If she realizes how out of place she is in Gotham it doesn't reflect in her body language or the soft expression on her face. Truthfully, she always knows she's a bit out of place anywhere she goes and this city in particular always stirs those feelings deep within her. What hesitation might have existed never finds it's way to her face, slipping out with the warmth Jason offers her. Not everyone is lucky enough to be able to get even this small amount of relaxation from him and she takes it as a small sort of honor.
Brighter smile there on her face as she settles herself down to look him over. Because of course she's going to check if he loos fine first, observe the story his body may have to offer on what he's been doing here. The glances she flicks over him are subtle, brief, enough to not make a scene but still be recognizable for what they are: concern. Too many people see Kori as only for how she looks and not for her past as a trained tactician and warrior. Something that's never a problem with him.
There's no judgement in those looks, only a brief furrow of her brows both at his bruises and at his tone. ]
This city brings out such melancholy.
[ Does she mean in herself or in him? Or in everyone that lives here or fights here? Cities, like people, are complicated. Sometimes they hide ghosts in every corner. Which makes it hard to escape from them or sleep. Evident by what she observes as her bright green eyes go to his.
Softly she takes a warm hand and brushes it along the bruise of his jaw. A shockingly gentle touch coming from someone with enough power to disintegrate people without too much thought. ]
Are you certain? It looks as though I missed a fight.
no subject
His restless fidgeting has stalled out, at least. Fingers gone still again, unlit cigarette perched between them. He probably wasn't actually going to commit to light up—quit cold turkey during the whole being-dead thing and all, but there's some comfort to be had in old self-destructive vices when he's in a mood. Better to have something to do with his hands that isn't rolling them into fists, picking at old scabs until they start bleeding again, burning more bridges. He's pretty good at all that.
Less good at this sort of thing. Says a lot that he lets her reach for his face. Even tips his head just-so as her fingers brush at his jaw, gives her a better look at the damage. He knows a sitrep when he sees one. She has the good grace, at least, to not make a fuss about it while she gets the measure of him. By now he's stopped being surprised to realize that he trusts her not to hit where it hurts.
All that power and she makes it look easy to up and choose gentleness. (He admires it about her, even if he can't exactly relate.)
His face kind of scrunches as she examines him, nose wrinkling. Not without some irony—]
You should see the other guy.
[Dry, a hint of bitterness to it. It's not serious, just pretty black and blue. If he's hiding any other hurts under his jacket they aren't bad enough to show in his posture. His cowl usually keeps his face pretty covered in a fight, though, so either he'd gotten decked hard enough to crack through it or he'd been caught without it. Either are...equally plausible.
Her turn for an examining, if in part to save him the discomfort of holding her gaze for too long while she's up close and personal. A quick, sharp-eyed once-over where she's settled down beside him. She'd come all this way, all short notice. It hasn't been lost on him that she's been just as happy to avoid the city as he is to let her. Until—]
Need to go blow off some steam?
[Sure, she missed a fight. He could probably find one, though, if she's got an itch. It is Gotham.]
no subject
For all her perceived openness she's been there a time or two herself.
She tilts her head and offers a soft smile to him. ]
I can still see him?
[ A light joke...maybe. If there's anything more than teasing there she doesn't really let it show. Besides, she's not one to judge if an enemy ends up dead in most situations. Unlike those trained under the Batman she's been taught both the value of compassion and the necessity of death in battle. A conflict that always arose between certain...others and herself.
A thought better simply ignored. ]
He must have hit quite hard.
[ Unsurprising in Gotham. Or in this world in general. It seems more and more unscrupulous types were growing increasingly prepared to counter the Batfamily that stood in their way. At least that's the assumption she'll go with least she be mildly irritated that he got went searching for a fight alone without his cowl.
When he turns his gaze to her she drops her hand from his face, slowly, almost as though she's a bit remorseful at having to break away from touch. At the end of the day Kori's always going to be a creature of touch — one that finds warmth in it. She blinks and then shrugs her shoulders slightly. ]
Maybe. I was having...difficulties sleeping. [ Perhaps something like a fight would be a decent distraction. Not the healthiest thing but it would seem neither of them were too interested in healthy at the moment. ]
(ooc: sorry for the delay! ive been very sick)
no subject
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[The look she gets for her little joke is wry but telling. There's a reason he's busy being so restless out here, and it sure isn't because he's feeling great about how his most recent return to the city has panned out so far. Not that he ought to be surprised. Hence the bitterness, and (maybe) hence the bruises. If he got into it with Bruce (or Dick, or any other one of the assorted and growing collection of extended Bat-vigilantes that roll into town in a crisis) in the process of trying to edge his way back into Gotham...it's pretty much par for the course.
She drops her hand away, and his fidgeting resumes, as if on cue. Like he's remembered what he was doing before she got here, rolling his neglected cigarette between his fingers in aimless patterns to keep his hands busy. He acknowledges her observations and her answers with a one-shouldered shrug of his own. Enough about me, lets talk about you, et cetera.]
Kind of figured you weren't here for the ambiance.
[It's cool. It's not for everyone. He does give her a bit more of his attention to gauge the mood. Her regretful little hesitation when she pulled away, the subdued shift in her usual shine. What follows is an awkward little beat from him, a shift in his jaw while he studies her, like he's trying to decide if he should ask.
(He isn't exactly a team-leader type. Which is good, because they're not a team, or anything like that. There's no obligations, here. Just a friend come looking for company, or comfort, or—a distraction. Whatever. That much, he can handle.)
Out with it, then.]
Anything I can do about that?
[The not-sleeping thing. It's a sideways sort of offer, if she wants to talk about it. Or if she'd rather actually go find those drinks, or find someone worth working out her frustrations on, they can do that too. She'll stick out around here, inevitably. But... he knows a few places.]
no subject
[ Who better to understand complicated feelings towards this place than him? Despite that she gives a bittersweet soft smile, both to him and to the city itself. Regardless of her history with it's inhabitants she's never felt bitter towards it, or towards the situation itself. All she feels towards it is a deep rooted sadness for what could have been. Which is hardly his problem to deal with, so she simply drops her eyes for a moment, gaze eventually settling on his fidgeting hands.
Jason's always a bit of a mixed bag on how he'll react to comfort or closeness, with it being made all too obvious that kindness has always been a rarity in his life. Much the same could be said about her own past. Perhaps that's why she softly slides a hand down to his, brushing against his fingers and then lingering there. Not quite offering to hold it, but leaving it there for him to take if he wants. Or to simply leave it as a simple touch.
The silence settles in and if there's any awkwardness from him, she doesn't feel it. She's comfortable just to settle in there for the moment until he speaks. ]
That's kind of you to ask. [ No real surprise in her tone. Despite everything there is kindness in him. Sometimes it's just buried under other things. ]
I'm certain we could find something to do. [ A little bit of a playful tone sneaks in there, perhaps a tiny bit teasing. ] What were you going to do before I arrived?
no subject
[His mouth presses a little thin. What was he doing. Good question. Stewing, mostly. Turning the potentialities of his next steps over in his head. If he’s sticking around, or skipping town again, and why. Back when he’d had all his best-laid-plans and his points to prove, he’d always had the singleminded comfort of certainty, of thinking several steps ahead. Somewhere along the way he’d lost that and dropped himself off a damn cliff again to square fucking one, and he’s starting to chafe against it. None of the Bat-types do well with prolonged aimlessness, and Jason is no exception.
So, this is not an unwelcome distraction, honestly. Her hand settles on his, warm and grounding. He goes still. Feels, in a strange seasick sort of way, like several different versions of himself at once for a second or two. But he breathes out a dry little laugh, raises his free hand to pat hers on the back. Acknowledgment of the gesture, or reassurance that he’s okay, or that she’s okay to do it. (She is. He is. What passes for it, anyway.)
Breezily—]
Who cares.
[He’s got better plans, now.
Hopping off the hood of the car, he tucks the heavyhanded self-destructive symbolism of his cigarette behind his ear, (table that one for a little later, maybe,) and digs in the pocket of his jacket with his other hand. Eventually, he fishes out a key—one of those fancy fucking ones that folds back invisibly into the remote. (Figures.)
Hitting a button triggers the telltale sound of the car unlocking. Apparently he hadn’t just been using it as a conveniently quiet place to perch. One of the perks of his current (provisional) access to the Manor is that he can take the opportunity to swipe one of Bruce’s stupid ostentatious cars for a spin. Maybe leave it somewhere it’ll get a tow and a ticket and a few less hubcaps if he’s feeling particularly petty. (He is.) Just too bad he can’t get away with taking the car for a joyride, or he would.
Being decisive about it seems to kick him out of the worst of his mood. Like once he’s in motion the intertia is enough to carry him forward a little bit longer. He swings the passenger side door open. Even stops to hold it for her, brows raised expectantly. How chivalrous.]
C’mon Princess, let’s hit the town.
[He punctuates this obnoxiousness with a wink and everything. Already got an idea of where to start and everything. Gotham is complicated, sure. They can complicate it right back.]