- Pronouns
- She
I am curious how much of Jacqueline's communication Armsmaster is understanding.
Orderly (Worm Semi-SI)
- Thread starter Obscura
- Start date
- Superhero
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
He understands the important things: care, concern, consideration. Beyond that, I think it's best left to the imagination (and whatever book/technology/friend he went to for help).
39-3 Instead (Interlude: Dennis)
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Dennis:
"What the [fun] was that?" wasn't the most articulate thing Dennis could have opened the conversation with his direct, if mostly absentee, superior with. Nor was it the most respectful, or even particularly original, but it was what he had.
It did at least have the advantage of being direct. Armsmaster had never seemed particularly open to small talk.
Except, of course, for what Dennis had just witnessed, but that was exactly why it was so surprising.
Dennis was prepared to be reprimanded. It had certainly happened often enough, if not particularly cruelly. He was, after all, the class clown. Being reprimanded from time to time was just the cost of doing business.
He was not prepared for the Tinker to sigh, shrug, and admit fault. That was concerning.
"I'll admit," he admitted, "I haven't been paying The Wards enough attention these past few years."
Dennis couldn't argue with that. He'd spoken with Armsmaster one-on-one enough rarely enough to be able to recount each incidence individually, most of them reprimands Miss Militia or Miss Piggy couldn't be bothered with or just didn't want to handle themselves. And that still meant he'd had more interaction with the man than any of his peers had been blessed with. The only question was "...and you just decided to start now?"
Well, it wasn't the only question. Or even the only one Dennis could think of. But he was not asking why the man who always acted like his heart was made of granite was suddenly able to be the softest, surest, most reassuring father-figure in the world.
(Dennis was not envious of the kid. He wasn't. But his not-envy didn't stop him from recognising that that was weird as [fun], and probably deeply messed up.)
"We almost lost three Wards yesterday," was not the answer Dennis was expecting.
He didn't know what he was expecting, really, but that definitely wasn't it.
He didn't say anything in response. He didn't think he could have said anything in response, even if Armsmaster had paused long enough for him to actually work something out. Instead, the man stopped just long enough to be a hair past polite and for the silence to become just slightly uncomfortable in its own right.
"Sophia and Jacqueline, well, there's a lot even with just what I can tell you, but it wasn't good. I'm honestly surprised Jacqueline was up to pranking today, let alone making sure it was harmless and actually funny. I am… proud… of her."
He really was. Dennis could tell. He honestly wasn't sure how he could tell, but he could.
"That's not a reaction I've ever gotten for one of my pranks," was out of Dennis' mouth before he even realized he was talking.
(Maybe he was a little envious after all. Just a little. He certainly wasn't bitter, though.)
"... I didn't think it was something you were looking for," sounded just a little guilty, unbelievably to Dennis' ears. "I'm not the best person to explain it, but there's a fundamental difference in style between you two, in the methods that you both use."
Armsmaster was talking about pranks. Lecturing about pranks, and not in a negative fashion. As far as Dennis could tell, at least. That was… Unbelievable.
"I'll send you a book I've been recommended on the subject."
Right, that was more believable. Relatively. Still, by the time Dennis had processed that the man was back on the subject Dennis so dearly regretted bringing up.
"Browbeat would have died if he'd used the podium for his debut speech. A normal human probably would have needed to be identified forensically. With his powers, that kind of trauma might have technically been survivable, if he was lucky, but only if he kept his cool, remained perfectly still, and used his active powers to mitigate the damage with a degree of control he's never demonstrated. That's a lot to ask of an adult with years of Protectorate experience, let alone a fresh Ward, and his entirely understandable panic afterwards proved he couldn't have pulled it off."
Dennis hadn't even known Browbeat had been outside of headquarters during an attack, let alone that one of the attacks was at his debut. (Actually, he hadn't even known that Browbeat was supposed to debut yesterday, but that part was probably on him. It was the sort of thing he was supposed to keep track of, he'd just forgotten to do so. Again.)
That an outright, blatant and nightmarishly graphic attempt on a Ward's life had been made explained a great deal about why the entire team was confined to Headquarters unless accompanied by a Protectorate member for at least the next day.
Under the circumstances, Dennis was surprised they were being given even that much freedom. Unless…
"You got the person behind it, right?"
"I sent her hundreds of feet into the air in an alternate dimension with six fatal wounds and one of her own bombs strapped to her throat myself."
…
[Harmless Fun]!
Remind Dennis to never really make his boss angry. He'd known that the Tinker could be scary, one didn't become a Protectorate division leader without some serious metaphorical firepower, but that smile as he confessed to immense overkill was terrifying even if it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.
Girl. Whatever. Not the point. The point was that Dennis' boss was a stone cold son of a [bear] when he wanted to be.
An hour later, more than half of which had been spent on deeply disturbing explanations, Dennis was still very glad he was on Armsmaster's side.
For several reasons.
One of those reasons was an actually very interesting ebook entitled "Laughing With and Laughing At: The Mousetacular Guide to Mockery, Mayhem, and Making Fun versus Hijinks, Horseplay, and Honest Humor." And it was a compelling one. And the further elaborations on just how much had happened yesterday and how far the man had gone to put and end to the issues and rescue the captured Wards only reinforced the impression that his boss was much better to have as a friend, even if only in the loosest sense of the word, than an enemy.
But mostly, Dennis remembered that smile. He honestly doubted he would ever forget.
Even if the part of him that had spent his entire Ward's career repeatedly drawing what he now knew was the palest shadow of the top hero in Brockton Bay's ire desperately wanted to.
"What the [fun] was that?" wasn't the most articulate thing Dennis could have opened the conversation with his direct, if mostly absentee, superior with. Nor was it the most respectful, or even particularly original, but it was what he had.
It did at least have the advantage of being direct. Armsmaster had never seemed particularly open to small talk.
Except, of course, for what Dennis had just witnessed, but that was exactly why it was so surprising.
Dennis was prepared to be reprimanded. It had certainly happened often enough, if not particularly cruelly. He was, after all, the class clown. Being reprimanded from time to time was just the cost of doing business.
He was not prepared for the Tinker to sigh, shrug, and admit fault. That was concerning.
"I'll admit," he admitted, "I haven't been paying The Wards enough attention these past few years."
Dennis couldn't argue with that. He'd spoken with Armsmaster one-on-one enough rarely enough to be able to recount each incidence individually, most of them reprimands Miss Militia or Miss Piggy couldn't be bothered with or just didn't want to handle themselves. And that still meant he'd had more interaction with the man than any of his peers had been blessed with. The only question was "...and you just decided to start now?"
Well, it wasn't the only question. Or even the only one Dennis could think of. But he was not asking why the man who always acted like his heart was made of granite was suddenly able to be the softest, surest, most reassuring father-figure in the world.
(Dennis was not envious of the kid. He wasn't. But his not-envy didn't stop him from recognising that that was weird as [fun], and probably deeply messed up.)
"We almost lost three Wards yesterday," was not the answer Dennis was expecting.
He didn't know what he was expecting, really, but that definitely wasn't it.
He didn't say anything in response. He didn't think he could have said anything in response, even if Armsmaster had paused long enough for him to actually work something out. Instead, the man stopped just long enough to be a hair past polite and for the silence to become just slightly uncomfortable in its own right.
"Sophia and Jacqueline, well, there's a lot even with just what I can tell you, but it wasn't good. I'm honestly surprised Jacqueline was up to pranking today, let alone making sure it was harmless and actually funny. I am… proud… of her."
He really was. Dennis could tell. He honestly wasn't sure how he could tell, but he could.
"That's not a reaction I've ever gotten for one of my pranks," was out of Dennis' mouth before he even realized he was talking.
(Maybe he was a little envious after all. Just a little. He certainly wasn't bitter, though.)
"... I didn't think it was something you were looking for," sounded just a little guilty, unbelievably to Dennis' ears. "I'm not the best person to explain it, but there's a fundamental difference in style between you two, in the methods that you both use."
Armsmaster was talking about pranks. Lecturing about pranks, and not in a negative fashion. As far as Dennis could tell, at least. That was… Unbelievable.
"I'll send you a book I've been recommended on the subject."
Right, that was more believable. Relatively. Still, by the time Dennis had processed that the man was back on the subject Dennis so dearly regretted bringing up.
"Browbeat would have died if he'd used the podium for his debut speech. A normal human probably would have needed to be identified forensically. With his powers, that kind of trauma might have technically been survivable, if he was lucky, but only if he kept his cool, remained perfectly still, and used his active powers to mitigate the damage with a degree of control he's never demonstrated. That's a lot to ask of an adult with years of Protectorate experience, let alone a fresh Ward, and his entirely understandable panic afterwards proved he couldn't have pulled it off."
Dennis hadn't even known Browbeat had been outside of headquarters during an attack, let alone that one of the attacks was at his debut. (Actually, he hadn't even known that Browbeat was supposed to debut yesterday, but that part was probably on him. It was the sort of thing he was supposed to keep track of, he'd just forgotten to do so. Again.)
That an outright, blatant and nightmarishly graphic attempt on a Ward's life had been made explained a great deal about why the entire team was confined to Headquarters unless accompanied by a Protectorate member for at least the next day.
Under the circumstances, Dennis was surprised they were being given even that much freedom. Unless…
"You got the person behind it, right?"
"I sent her hundreds of feet into the air in an alternate dimension with six fatal wounds and one of her own bombs strapped to her throat myself."
…
[Harmless Fun]!
Remind Dennis to never really make his boss angry. He'd known that the Tinker could be scary, one didn't become a Protectorate division leader without some serious metaphorical firepower, but that smile as he confessed to immense overkill was terrifying even if it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.
Girl. Whatever. Not the point. The point was that Dennis' boss was a stone cold son of a [bear] when he wanted to be.
An hour later, more than half of which had been spent on deeply disturbing explanations, Dennis was still very glad he was on Armsmaster's side.
For several reasons.
One of those reasons was an actually very interesting ebook entitled "Laughing With and Laughing At: The Mousetacular Guide to Mockery, Mayhem, and Making Fun versus Hijinks, Horseplay, and Honest Humor." And it was a compelling one. And the further elaborations on just how much had happened yesterday and how far the man had gone to put and end to the issues and rescue the captured Wards only reinforced the impression that his boss was much better to have as a friend, even if only in the loosest sense of the word, than an enemy.
But mostly, Dennis remembered that smile. He honestly doubted he would ever forget.
Even if the part of him that had spent his entire Ward's career repeatedly drawing what he now knew was the palest shadow of the top hero in Brockton Bay's ire desperately wanted to.
- Pronouns
- She
Oh, this is great! Dennis gets a book to help him improve his pranks 
Something he probably could have used earlier, but it's never too late to start getting support
Something he probably could have used earlier, but it's never too late to start getting support- Pronouns
- She/Her
Shame that we can't get a copy of the Mousetacular Guide.
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Honestly, it's probably something that's generally better explained in person, but Armsmaster is self-aware enough to know that he's not the best person to explain it and he's just the sort of person to deal with that sort of problem by throwing the first book on the subject that comes to mind at it.Oh, this is great! Dennis gets a book to help him improve his pranks
It's actually not outside of the realm of possibility, if there's enough interest. It'd certainly be a bizarre juxtaposition of serious subjects and children's books, but I did write Thomas Calvert and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Evil Plan so that's at least somewhat familiar ground. It'd be tricky to make a writing style for Mouse Protector, and I'm not sure how well it would work without illustrations, but I'm reasonably confident it is something I could do.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
May I suggest that a few excerpts from the book would be a lot easier to pull off. But if you do manage the whole book, that would be awesome. Although I wouldn't want it to interrupt Orderly.
39-4 Insouciance
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
In theory, approaching Sophia was a matter to be considered carefully. In practice, I had enough emotionally exhausted insouciance to take the first seemingly viable route that occurred to me, and enough eccentric perspicacity for it to be actually not terrible.
I mean, it wasn't great, but it was at least not as bad as it could have been.
Plus, well, I was distinctly non-threatening in appearance. Especially since I was still in my pyjamas. As nice as they were, for pyjamas, they were still rather the opposite of intimidating. They were also mostly black, which was precisely the opposite of the mostly white outfit any particularly traumatic memories of me she had would have been formed in.
Which was why I hadn't changed after belatedly realising I was still wearing them. In hindsight, that probably made the entire thing I'd just pulled all the weirder for Clockblocker, but it wasn't like I could just go back in time and undo it. He knew what he was getting into when he decided to engage with me less than a day after everything that went down in Coil's underground lair.
Or did he?
Now that I was actually thinking about it, there was no reason he would have been given all the details. That a Ward kidnapping had happened and the perpetrator killed, maybe, he did have a right to know there had been a threat and that it had been resolved. And it would have been difficult to keep who, exactly, had been kidnapped secret long term if they did share that. Who exactly the culprit had been, well, if any supervillain could disappear without a trace and have nobody question it it would have been Coil, but now the Wards had strong reasons to be paying attention. But probably no more than that. The rest was both disturbing and intensely personal in ways that really shouldn't be shared without permission.
And even what could be shared wouldn't have been a top priority to share. It was important, but not that important. Not compared to at least some of the million and one things that needed doing in the aftermath of a disaster like Barracuda's attack. It easily could have waited until somebody high-up had a free moment to share the news in person, make sure they took it alright.
… Armsmaster specifically mentioned he was checking up on all the Wards. Whether or not "checking up" was his primary goal, it would have been the perfect opportunity to have that conversation. And of course he wouldn't have mentioned it to me, he'd been very careful to not bring up the kidnapping directly.
Maybe I owed Clockblocker an apology.
I wasn't entirely sure of that, he did still start things and I felt I had some fairly understandable reasons for not being at my best, but apologies are one of those "rather have it and not need it" things.
Needed apologies left ungiven aren't usually the end of the world, most aren't necessities in that sense, generally not unless they involve outright violence, abuse, or atrocity, but they do lead to bad feelings and generally make relationships worse. And they're bad form as well. It behooves one to acknowledge one's missteps properly.
Plus both capes and teenagers tend to be the sort of people who don't take such missteps well. Slights tend to be met with retaliation (which in its turn is met with further retaliation), particularly among the more immature among us. This, combined with the fact that capes and teenagers also tend to be the sort of people who make such missteps and the sort to not apologise does a lot to explain why both cape and teenager societies are so generally messed up.
It's not a problem I have a good solution for, but it's also not a problem I wish to contribute to more than necessary. Certainly not with people on the same side as me.
And there are worse things than unnecessary apologies. Just as necessary ones serve as an olive branch, unneeded ones serve as an open hand, demonstrating willingness to give a little for the other person, even in situations where it's not strictly obligatory. They show care.
So I determined that I would apologise to Clockblocker, whether or not it was strictly necessary.
And so I determined that I would apologise to Sophia. I'll admit, the similar methodology was no coincidence: my course of action with her was directly inspired by my considerations on the Clockblocker matter, and I didn't really think about them separately as much as I could have.
And frankly should have.
If I had, maybe I would have worked out what I was apologising for. There's a lot to be said for at least opening with vagueness and letting the other party decide what part's the most important, but it would have been better to have worked out the most important part for myself as well. For my own part and for what I could guess of the person I was apologising to's, at a minimum.
But, well, I had enough emotionally exhausted insouciance to take the first seemingly viable route that occurred to me. That's not the sort of state of mind that leads to thinking things through. Not once said seemingly viable route has been found, anyway.
It does, however, encourage one to put in one's all, so rushing up with great big teary puppy dog eyes, arms thrown as far open as they would go and a hearty "I'm sowwwy" it was.
I am only slightly exaggerating. My pronunciation was better than that, and my arms were still at an obtuse angle instead of the vast reflex monstrosity they were capable of, but otherwise I was the very picture of "adorable sad child wants you to forgive her".
Frankly, even with those questionable points of restraint it was probably still more than a little overwrought. I honestly don't think it would have been believable if I hadn't been genuinely at least somewhat overwrought and in possession of some very good reasons to be overwrought that everybody present was painfully aware of.
As it was, well, sometimes you just don't call somebody out on being dramatic no matter how dramatic they're being.
Though the pyjamas probably didn't hurt either.
I mean, it wasn't great, but it was at least not as bad as it could have been.
Plus, well, I was distinctly non-threatening in appearance. Especially since I was still in my pyjamas. As nice as they were, for pyjamas, they were still rather the opposite of intimidating. They were also mostly black, which was precisely the opposite of the mostly white outfit any particularly traumatic memories of me she had would have been formed in.
Which was why I hadn't changed after belatedly realising I was still wearing them. In hindsight, that probably made the entire thing I'd just pulled all the weirder for Clockblocker, but it wasn't like I could just go back in time and undo it. He knew what he was getting into when he decided to engage with me less than a day after everything that went down in Coil's underground lair.
Or did he?
Now that I was actually thinking about it, there was no reason he would have been given all the details. That a Ward kidnapping had happened and the perpetrator killed, maybe, he did have a right to know there had been a threat and that it had been resolved. And it would have been difficult to keep who, exactly, had been kidnapped secret long term if they did share that. Who exactly the culprit had been, well, if any supervillain could disappear without a trace and have nobody question it it would have been Coil, but now the Wards had strong reasons to be paying attention. But probably no more than that. The rest was both disturbing and intensely personal in ways that really shouldn't be shared without permission.
And even what could be shared wouldn't have been a top priority to share. It was important, but not that important. Not compared to at least some of the million and one things that needed doing in the aftermath of a disaster like Barracuda's attack. It easily could have waited until somebody high-up had a free moment to share the news in person, make sure they took it alright.
… Armsmaster specifically mentioned he was checking up on all the Wards. Whether or not "checking up" was his primary goal, it would have been the perfect opportunity to have that conversation. And of course he wouldn't have mentioned it to me, he'd been very careful to not bring up the kidnapping directly.
Maybe I owed Clockblocker an apology.
I wasn't entirely sure of that, he did still start things and I felt I had some fairly understandable reasons for not being at my best, but apologies are one of those "rather have it and not need it" things.
Needed apologies left ungiven aren't usually the end of the world, most aren't necessities in that sense, generally not unless they involve outright violence, abuse, or atrocity, but they do lead to bad feelings and generally make relationships worse. And they're bad form as well. It behooves one to acknowledge one's missteps properly.
Plus both capes and teenagers tend to be the sort of people who don't take such missteps well. Slights tend to be met with retaliation (which in its turn is met with further retaliation), particularly among the more immature among us. This, combined with the fact that capes and teenagers also tend to be the sort of people who make such missteps and the sort to not apologise does a lot to explain why both cape and teenager societies are so generally messed up.
It's not a problem I have a good solution for, but it's also not a problem I wish to contribute to more than necessary. Certainly not with people on the same side as me.
And there are worse things than unnecessary apologies. Just as necessary ones serve as an olive branch, unneeded ones serve as an open hand, demonstrating willingness to give a little for the other person, even in situations where it's not strictly obligatory. They show care.
So I determined that I would apologise to Clockblocker, whether or not it was strictly necessary.
And so I determined that I would apologise to Sophia. I'll admit, the similar methodology was no coincidence: my course of action with her was directly inspired by my considerations on the Clockblocker matter, and I didn't really think about them separately as much as I could have.
And frankly should have.
If I had, maybe I would have worked out what I was apologising for. There's a lot to be said for at least opening with vagueness and letting the other party decide what part's the most important, but it would have been better to have worked out the most important part for myself as well. For my own part and for what I could guess of the person I was apologising to's, at a minimum.
But, well, I had enough emotionally exhausted insouciance to take the first seemingly viable route that occurred to me. That's not the sort of state of mind that leads to thinking things through. Not once said seemingly viable route has been found, anyway.
It does, however, encourage one to put in one's all, so rushing up with great big teary puppy dog eyes, arms thrown as far open as they would go and a hearty "I'm sowwwy" it was.
I am only slightly exaggerating. My pronunciation was better than that, and my arms were still at an obtuse angle instead of the vast reflex monstrosity they were capable of, but otherwise I was the very picture of "adorable sad child wants you to forgive her".
Frankly, even with those questionable points of restraint it was probably still more than a little overwrought. I honestly don't think it would have been believable if I hadn't been genuinely at least somewhat overwrought and in possession of some very good reasons to be overwrought that everybody present was painfully aware of.
As it was, well, sometimes you just don't call somebody out on being dramatic no matter how dramatic they're being.
Though the pyjamas probably didn't hurt either.
39-5 Insulation
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Honestly, I don't think Sophia had any more idea what I was apologising for than I did. I am not, in fact, one hundred percent sure she noticed that I was apologising at all. She was, however, very supportive, if mostly in a literal, physical sense wherein she was supporting most of both our weights.
It was evident that, physically speaking, she was fine. More than fine, really, she was about as physically fit as it was possible for a girl her (physical) age to be, at least without steroids or helpful parahuman enhancements. Which wasn't exactly a surprise, given Panacea and Shadow Stalker's track records, but it was nice to know nonetheless. She certainly had some very nice shoulders to cry on, even if that was only possible because she was leaning forward.
She was tall, and I wasn't, is what I'm getting at.
Less conveniently, she also had very strong arms, with an equally strong grip, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. Tight hugs, even too tight limpet hugs, just weren't something I could bring myself to worry about at the time.
I don't think my shoulders were as nice for crying on as Sophia's, they were actually kinda pointy, but they seemed to do the job well enough. Actually, given the amount of tears on me as I was being used as a teddy bear, they may have been doing the job a little too well.
Fortunately, a responsible adult (for a given value of "adult", given that his Wards graduation was less than a month ago) stepped in before we died of dehydration, though not before I, at least, was considerably dehydrated.In hindsight, I probably should have had something to drink with my "breakfast". Probably would have, if I hadn't gotten distracted, but there's no use crying about unconsumed milk.
There had been more than enough crying already anyway.
In all honesty, I wasn't sure what, exactly, I was sipping through my oddly satisfying neon-blue curly straw. Something sweet in a slightly different neon blue, tasting of some unidentifiable artificial fruit flavouring and the slight vaguely salty lingering of added electrolytes.
I hadn't known that was even a thing here, but apparently it was, and mundane enough for nobody to comment on it. That would probably have been more helpful for figuring out how the timeline for Earth Bet differed from the one other me came from if I knew when said other timeline actually started using electrolytes in drinks.
I mean, it feels really modern in almost a science fiction sort of way, but it's not like it actually requires any sort of technological sophistication to pull off. Not once you have the means to mine salt, anyway. Sure, you can go fancier, but I'm reasonably sure that it's not strictly necessary.
"Are you okay, Jacqueline?"
Right, I was still in a room with people. People with reasonable concerns, even, some of them about me. Sophia was looking okay, for a generous value of "okay", but I wasn't.
So I looked Triumph in his overdramatic lion mask and let my eyes tell him was lying when I said I was. I don't know if he got the memo or not, but I wasn't about to tell the truth where Sophia could hear it.
Either way, he nodded and gave us some space after that. Not enough for us to be properly alone or unsupervised, but enough to have a quiet conversation without being overheard, assuming his sound manipulation didn't extend to super-hearing.
I didn't have any particular reason to think it did, but it was a fairly logical extension of what I knew about his powerset, if he could amplify sound, limit what areas it went to, dampen it, and unleash massive burst of it by shouting, he could probably detect it a bit better than the rest of us. It would certainly make more sense than the Brute package he got with it. Wouldn't be hard to hide, either, given that he was immune to loud noises, the usual weakness of those blessed with superhearing.
"What is with that mask? He's literally gilded the lion."
He quirked just enough to let me know he was, in fact, listening, but didn't comment.
My actual intended audience, on the other hand, was more responsive, if not precisely receptive.
"Lily."
Just as planned. For both, though with Triumph there weren't really very many possible outcomes and I would have said that for any of them. Either he responded and showed he was listening and wanted to be involved or he didn't and showed he wasn't. In this case, he was listening but intended to stay out of it for the moment.
What I was doing with Sophia wasn't much more complicated, but it did have a failure condition. Distraction only works if somebody lets themself get distracted, so it was good to see Sophia was doing just that.
That meant I just needed to keep it up.
"My name's Jacqueline, actually. Don't worry, you're not the only one to get it wrong lately."
Seven at the hospital alone, in fact. Most of them weren't notably persistent or dramatic about it, but still. Not that that was the point. The point was getting her to take the bait, and I was rewarded with her sighing, shaking her head, and trying further to correct me.
I was very careful to keep just how adorable I found it from reaching my face. I was already tamping down my amusement, so it didn't take all that much additional effort, but it was still something to keep in mind. Wouldn't want to give the game away that easily.
"No, Jacqueline, I mean it's gilded the lily, not the lion."
Taking a sip before responding may have been just a touch too sassy, I'll admit. But it was definitely satisfying, and I don't just mean the surprisingly refreshing flavour.
"Triumph doesn't have any lilies, though? He doesn't seem to have any flowers at all."
Sophia's ensuing sigh was also satisfying. But not as much as the way she, too, took a sip from her own curly straw before she started to explain further.
It was good to see her looking to her own wellbeing, if only in the smallest of ways. Now it was just a matter of maintaining the proper level of distraction.
What I didn't consider at the time was that it was a matter of maintaining the proper level of distraction for both of us. Given that I'd already gotten distracted from this conversation once, that was perhaps rather foolish of me.
It was evident that, physically speaking, she was fine. More than fine, really, she was about as physically fit as it was possible for a girl her (physical) age to be, at least without steroids or helpful parahuman enhancements. Which wasn't exactly a surprise, given Panacea and Shadow Stalker's track records, but it was nice to know nonetheless. She certainly had some very nice shoulders to cry on, even if that was only possible because she was leaning forward.
She was tall, and I wasn't, is what I'm getting at.
Less conveniently, she also had very strong arms, with an equally strong grip, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. Tight hugs, even too tight limpet hugs, just weren't something I could bring myself to worry about at the time.
I don't think my shoulders were as nice for crying on as Sophia's, they were actually kinda pointy, but they seemed to do the job well enough. Actually, given the amount of tears on me as I was being used as a teddy bear, they may have been doing the job a little too well.
Fortunately, a responsible adult (for a given value of "adult", given that his Wards graduation was less than a month ago) stepped in before we died of dehydration, though not before I, at least, was considerably dehydrated.In hindsight, I probably should have had something to drink with my "breakfast". Probably would have, if I hadn't gotten distracted, but there's no use crying about unconsumed milk.
There had been more than enough crying already anyway.
In all honesty, I wasn't sure what, exactly, I was sipping through my oddly satisfying neon-blue curly straw. Something sweet in a slightly different neon blue, tasting of some unidentifiable artificial fruit flavouring and the slight vaguely salty lingering of added electrolytes.
I hadn't known that was even a thing here, but apparently it was, and mundane enough for nobody to comment on it. That would probably have been more helpful for figuring out how the timeline for Earth Bet differed from the one other me came from if I knew when said other timeline actually started using electrolytes in drinks.
I mean, it feels really modern in almost a science fiction sort of way, but it's not like it actually requires any sort of technological sophistication to pull off. Not once you have the means to mine salt, anyway. Sure, you can go fancier, but I'm reasonably sure that it's not strictly necessary.
"Are you okay, Jacqueline?"
Right, I was still in a room with people. People with reasonable concerns, even, some of them about me. Sophia was looking okay, for a generous value of "okay", but I wasn't.
So I looked Triumph in his overdramatic lion mask and let my eyes tell him was lying when I said I was. I don't know if he got the memo or not, but I wasn't about to tell the truth where Sophia could hear it.
Either way, he nodded and gave us some space after that. Not enough for us to be properly alone or unsupervised, but enough to have a quiet conversation without being overheard, assuming his sound manipulation didn't extend to super-hearing.
I didn't have any particular reason to think it did, but it was a fairly logical extension of what I knew about his powerset, if he could amplify sound, limit what areas it went to, dampen it, and unleash massive burst of it by shouting, he could probably detect it a bit better than the rest of us. It would certainly make more sense than the Brute package he got with it. Wouldn't be hard to hide, either, given that he was immune to loud noises, the usual weakness of those blessed with superhearing.
"What is with that mask? He's literally gilded the lion."
He quirked just enough to let me know he was, in fact, listening, but didn't comment.
My actual intended audience, on the other hand, was more responsive, if not precisely receptive.
"Lily."
Just as planned. For both, though with Triumph there weren't really very many possible outcomes and I would have said that for any of them. Either he responded and showed he was listening and wanted to be involved or he didn't and showed he wasn't. In this case, he was listening but intended to stay out of it for the moment.
What I was doing with Sophia wasn't much more complicated, but it did have a failure condition. Distraction only works if somebody lets themself get distracted, so it was good to see Sophia was doing just that.
That meant I just needed to keep it up.
"My name's Jacqueline, actually. Don't worry, you're not the only one to get it wrong lately."
Seven at the hospital alone, in fact. Most of them weren't notably persistent or dramatic about it, but still. Not that that was the point. The point was getting her to take the bait, and I was rewarded with her sighing, shaking her head, and trying further to correct me.
I was very careful to keep just how adorable I found it from reaching my face. I was already tamping down my amusement, so it didn't take all that much additional effort, but it was still something to keep in mind. Wouldn't want to give the game away that easily.
"No, Jacqueline, I mean it's gilded the lily, not the lion."
Taking a sip before responding may have been just a touch too sassy, I'll admit. But it was definitely satisfying, and I don't just mean the surprisingly refreshing flavour.
"Triumph doesn't have any lilies, though? He doesn't seem to have any flowers at all."
Sophia's ensuing sigh was also satisfying. But not as much as the way she, too, took a sip from her own curly straw before she started to explain further.
It was good to see her looking to her own wellbeing, if only in the smallest of ways. Now it was just a matter of maintaining the proper level of distraction.
What I didn't consider at the time was that it was a matter of maintaining the proper level of distraction for both of us. Given that I'd already gotten distracted from this conversation once, that was perhaps rather foolish of me.
- Location
- Attached to a wall
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Gilding the Lily is a new expression for me.
And Jacqueline is once more saving the day by showcasing her Thinker rating. She deserves to be at least a Thinker 0 at this point even without powers propping up her Social skills.
And Jacqueline is once more saving the day by showcasing her Thinker rating. She deserves to be at least a Thinker 0 at this point even without powers propping up her Social skills.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The medical use of electrolyte drinks seems to date from the 1940s but I think the non-medical use started around the 80s.
nicoo
Malfunctioning neurochemistry, please be kind.
- Location
- Europe
- Pronouns
- They/She/Meow
That should be "gilded," shouldn't it? Though maybe now I'll dream of gliding lion... hypersonic glide ve-lions?
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
From my research (such as it is), they were invented for at most borderline medical purposes in the 1940s, specifically for athletes and recovery (for one team). Either way, they're firmly pre-Scion, and I knew that before I included them. They just really don't seem like they should be, and that lets me throw in a few small character moments for Jacqueline.
I've checked a few times now, and it does say gilded. Gliding lions aren't in the story yet, although with Triumph's sound manipulation he probably would have a substantial advantage in the area compared to a baseline human.
It's when you add a bunch of unneeded extra decoration/pomp and circumstance to something already good and ruining what's already there. It's frequently attributed to Shakespeare, but is actually a mashup of two of his metaphors, gilding refined gold and painting the lily. Personally, I think the "gilded the lily" version sounds better, and of course it's the version Sophia is more likely to have actually heard and the version that actually fits the pun.
Technically, Jacqueline has been rated as a Thinker 0/1, albeit for "a level of calm, clear thinking, and clarity of purpose well beyond the norm for the subject's known age, level of training, and experience" rather than straight intelligence. Though this is because it's suspected to be maybe powers related, not in and of itself something to be noted on the scale.
Ultimately, 0 ratings seem to occupy a weird spot in the rating system. The one canon example I can find is Saint's Teacher-granted ability to use and maintain Dragontech, and given what he's done with it by the normal system that should be at least a 3 at a very bare minimum, more realistically a 4 or 5. 0, then, by my interpretation is where they categorise things that are the result of powers but are not strictly powers themselves, with Jacqueline's 0/1 representing uncertainty to whether it's a pretty unimpressive power, a relatively unimpressive facet of a different power, a result of a power, or just her being better at it than expected.
0 is then the correct rating for Jacqueline's social thinking, given all the extra experience and study, but that's not something the PRT is aware of.
More broadly, the rating system isn't really meant to deal with assets parahumans have that aren't parahuman in nature. Hard work, determination, ambition, non-mind control obtained PR and allies, intelligence, reputation, ruthlessness, creativity, escalation, and mundane money, resources and the leveraging therof, none of these are directly touched upon in a Cape's rating, but in canon Skitter's impressive track record had at least as much to do with those as it did her actual powerset. In fact, there are very few capes who can even be argued to not rely on any of those things that don't show up in the rating system, and those I can think of are either vastly inhumanly powerful even by cape standards or are those where said things arguably are part of their powers.
nicoo
Malfunctioning neurochemistry, please be kind.
- Location
- Europe
- Pronouns
- They/She/Meow
Sorry, I must have been really tired, as I kept reading "glided" both in the story, and when quoting to reply 😓
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Ah, Gatorade. I didn't remember that. I looked up Pedialyte and Oral Rehydration Therapy. I think the rebranding of Lucozade into a sports drink is what I was thinking of.
39-6 Insult
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
For somebody who named herself after a wasp nest (and no, I am not taking responsibility for that even if it was my idea, it was still her decision and she didn't even so much as ask me about it before it was all over the newspapers,) Taylor sure seemed to have taken a liking to using butterflies to make her presence known lately.
I mean, it made sense. Butterflies are pretty good attention grabbers, at least as far as bugs go. Flashy, colourful, and they even come in a variety of splendiferous patterns and colours, so she can pick and choose as suits the environment and the person who's attention she's trying to grab.
Sure, there do exist bugs that are considerably harder to ignore, but for the most part those don't have such a friendly metaphorical face.
Not that butterfly faces are particularly friendly up close and personal, but their literal faces aren't nearly as noticeable as their wings. It's an issue, to be sure, but people don't seem to like any bugs much bigger than a butterfly for some reason, anything with dangerous unconcealed pointy bits feels like an implicit threat even if it isn't meant to be one, and buzzing for attention is just kinda rude and annoying.
So butterflies it was. It was a smart move, honestly, now that I looked at it with eyes that weren't either freshly woken far too early by said butterflies or freshly traumatised by unrelated misfortunate events. Smart from both a PR perspective and just a social interaction one.
Better yet, it was a smart move I hadn't had any part in, aside from being an apparent favourite target. That meant she'd either come up with it or at least found it on her own, which was a good sign, or she'd been advised to do so by somebody else, which was a somewhat different but also good sign.
If somebody else had given her the idea, that meant she had more people to rely on for this stuff than just me. Not that I had any intention of not being reliable that way, but I knew my limits. I was only one person, with only one perspective, after all, and I was self-aware enough to know that said perspective was a rather unusual one.
Better if she had at least some other guidance, in the end.
Of course, I did know that Adrien Jackson and the rest of the PR department would do their best, I trusted them to do their jobs, but it being somebody else's idea would mean she had somebody she trusted to advise her.
If it was her own idea, or she'd been doing research, that meant she was actually thinking about making a good impression and being approachable. And she'd actually picked out and applied a very nice approach. That boded well for her ability to handle herself socially in the future.
If she was standing on her own two feet in the arena of communication, that would be good for her in a great many ways. Not least of which would be the boost to her confidence. There's nothing like doing something for yourself to show you that you can do things for yourself.
And after a long campaign and vicious intent on tearing Taylor down emotionally, willing or not on the part of the direct perpetrators, she needed that.
"Jacqueline?"
That was, in hindsight, clearly a question. Coming from Triumph, it was probably exactly the same question as the last one he'd asked me, though I don't know if he said the rest of it out loud and I just missed it or he left it to implication and I just missed it.
My own "yes" that was clearly an implicit "what is it?" probably wasn't the best possible response either way, but at least it did get an answer.
"You just spaced out while ranting on about the differences and similarities between human and lion society. Something about how lions aren't good role models, how the lionesses do all the actual work, and how "even if lounging about twenty or more hours a day and only actually doing anything when your position of questionable authority is challenged isn't an entirely inaccurate description of the superhero business, it's not one we should be promoting or living down to" and that's when you just… stopped."
Right, that was what I was doing before I noticed the butterfly on my hand. And with a scrupulously exact quote too, even if he was pretending it wasn't. And he referred to it as "ranting".
So I got the feeling he wasn't entirely happy with my critique, but didn't want to actually say anything about it.
"Sorry about that. And the "ranting""
I noted that Sophia looked like she wanted to interject, but Triumph beat her to it with a chuckle. One that didn't even seem forced. "No, no. I can't say I particularly liked hearing it, but you weren't wrong. I think. I really didn't put that much thought into this thing," and here he gestured with one hand to his helmet and with the other to the much less interesting rest of his outfit, "and I should probably do that before I say you're right, but you have a point."
Well, it was nice that he was being gracious about it, even if I was fairly sure that he was deliberately being accommodating in light of recent events and the fact that we were co-workers and probably would be for a considerable amount of time.
I appreciated it anyway. And I appreciated it even more when I immediately went on to shove my foot straight down my throat again.
See, he took off his ridiculous gilded lion headgear, revealing a surprisingly handsome face, smiled winningly with a sincerity I only wished I could produce on command, stuck out his hand, and commented that, right, he didn't think we'd ever been properly introduced.
That part was fine. I didn't exactly count Assault's introduction at that emergency meeting after I left M/S as proper myself, and I knew an olive branch when I was handed one. The problem came with what he said next:
"Hi, I'm Rory."
"No," I said, automatically, and his ensuing "I'm sorry?" was rightly more of a question than an apology.
"No, that cannot possibly be your name, You simply cannot be named Rory."
The stunned confusion on his face was matched by sheer (righteous, definitely) indignation on my own and the shocked giggling coming from Sophia. What a set we made. Especially with the pointing and the sheer deadpan weight of my tone.
"You wear a great big gleaming lion headmask as the single distinguishing feature of your superhero outfit, your cape name is the single most common feeling lions are depicted as roaring in, your power is literally roaring, and you expect me to believe that your name, your civilian name, is Rory."
"Yes," he said, with a perfectly, suspiciously, straight face.
Silence reigned for a second, then two.
And then he busted a gut laughing, swiftly followed by myself, Sophia, and I think even the butterfly, if I was any judge of that shaking. (Admittedly, I was mostly operating on context cues there…) Good joke, everybody laugh.
No snare drum. No curtains.
Good joke nonetheless.
I mean, it made sense. Butterflies are pretty good attention grabbers, at least as far as bugs go. Flashy, colourful, and they even come in a variety of splendiferous patterns and colours, so she can pick and choose as suits the environment and the person who's attention she's trying to grab.
Sure, there do exist bugs that are considerably harder to ignore, but for the most part those don't have such a friendly metaphorical face.
Not that butterfly faces are particularly friendly up close and personal, but their literal faces aren't nearly as noticeable as their wings. It's an issue, to be sure, but people don't seem to like any bugs much bigger than a butterfly for some reason, anything with dangerous unconcealed pointy bits feels like an implicit threat even if it isn't meant to be one, and buzzing for attention is just kinda rude and annoying.
So butterflies it was. It was a smart move, honestly, now that I looked at it with eyes that weren't either freshly woken far too early by said butterflies or freshly traumatised by unrelated misfortunate events. Smart from both a PR perspective and just a social interaction one.
Better yet, it was a smart move I hadn't had any part in, aside from being an apparent favourite target. That meant she'd either come up with it or at least found it on her own, which was a good sign, or she'd been advised to do so by somebody else, which was a somewhat different but also good sign.
If somebody else had given her the idea, that meant she had more people to rely on for this stuff than just me. Not that I had any intention of not being reliable that way, but I knew my limits. I was only one person, with only one perspective, after all, and I was self-aware enough to know that said perspective was a rather unusual one.
Better if she had at least some other guidance, in the end.
Of course, I did know that Adrien Jackson and the rest of the PR department would do their best, I trusted them to do their jobs, but it being somebody else's idea would mean she had somebody she trusted to advise her.
If it was her own idea, or she'd been doing research, that meant she was actually thinking about making a good impression and being approachable. And she'd actually picked out and applied a very nice approach. That boded well for her ability to handle herself socially in the future.
If she was standing on her own two feet in the arena of communication, that would be good for her in a great many ways. Not least of which would be the boost to her confidence. There's nothing like doing something for yourself to show you that you can do things for yourself.
And after a long campaign and vicious intent on tearing Taylor down emotionally, willing or not on the part of the direct perpetrators, she needed that.
"Jacqueline?"
That was, in hindsight, clearly a question. Coming from Triumph, it was probably exactly the same question as the last one he'd asked me, though I don't know if he said the rest of it out loud and I just missed it or he left it to implication and I just missed it.
My own "yes" that was clearly an implicit "what is it?" probably wasn't the best possible response either way, but at least it did get an answer.
"You just spaced out while ranting on about the differences and similarities between human and lion society. Something about how lions aren't good role models, how the lionesses do all the actual work, and how "even if lounging about twenty or more hours a day and only actually doing anything when your position of questionable authority is challenged isn't an entirely inaccurate description of the superhero business, it's not one we should be promoting or living down to" and that's when you just… stopped."
Right, that was what I was doing before I noticed the butterfly on my hand. And with a scrupulously exact quote too, even if he was pretending it wasn't. And he referred to it as "ranting".
So I got the feeling he wasn't entirely happy with my critique, but didn't want to actually say anything about it.
"Sorry about that. And the "ranting""
I noted that Sophia looked like she wanted to interject, but Triumph beat her to it with a chuckle. One that didn't even seem forced. "No, no. I can't say I particularly liked hearing it, but you weren't wrong. I think. I really didn't put that much thought into this thing," and here he gestured with one hand to his helmet and with the other to the much less interesting rest of his outfit, "and I should probably do that before I say you're right, but you have a point."
Well, it was nice that he was being gracious about it, even if I was fairly sure that he was deliberately being accommodating in light of recent events and the fact that we were co-workers and probably would be for a considerable amount of time.
I appreciated it anyway. And I appreciated it even more when I immediately went on to shove my foot straight down my throat again.
See, he took off his ridiculous gilded lion headgear, revealing a surprisingly handsome face, smiled winningly with a sincerity I only wished I could produce on command, stuck out his hand, and commented that, right, he didn't think we'd ever been properly introduced.
That part was fine. I didn't exactly count Assault's introduction at that emergency meeting after I left M/S as proper myself, and I knew an olive branch when I was handed one. The problem came with what he said next:
"Hi, I'm Rory."
"No," I said, automatically, and his ensuing "I'm sorry?" was rightly more of a question than an apology.
"No, that cannot possibly be your name, You simply cannot be named Rory."
The stunned confusion on his face was matched by sheer (righteous, definitely) indignation on my own and the shocked giggling coming from Sophia. What a set we made. Especially with the pointing and the sheer deadpan weight of my tone.
"You wear a great big gleaming lion headmask as the single distinguishing feature of your superhero outfit, your cape name is the single most common feeling lions are depicted as roaring in, your power is literally roaring, and you expect me to believe that your name, your civilian name, is Rory."
"Yes," he said, with a perfectly, suspiciously, straight face.
Silence reigned for a second, then two.
And then he busted a gut laughing, swiftly followed by myself, Sophia, and I think even the butterfly, if I was any judge of that shaking. (Admittedly, I was mostly operating on context cues there…) Good joke, everybody laugh.
No snare drum. No curtains.
Good joke nonetheless.
- Pronouns
- She
XD I can't believe I didn't notice the pun until Jacqueline pointed it out. That is so funny xD
Good spirits on Rory too
Good spirits on Rory too
So Rory is roaring
Taylor is a tailor
Missy is a missus
Yeah I'm sensing a pattern
Even if Sophia has a notable lack of wisdom
Taylor is a tailor
Missy is a missus
Yeah I'm sensing a pattern
Even if Sophia has a notable lack of wisdom
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- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Like a lot of superhero settings, and genre-defining giants of DC and Marvel in particular, Worm is big on names meaning something. Sometimes, like with Taylor, it's relatively subtle and works on multiple levels.
Then you've got a preteen girl with issues about being grown up and being taken seriously called "Missy", a superhuman roarer called "Rory", a fat woman who we're supposed to dislike for disliking capes called "Pig-
Wildbow is far from the worst offender, but sometimes you have to take a step back and acknowledge the madness.
Rory's just graduated into the Protectorate. He's in the big boys club now, so now is the perfect time for him to look back, consider his career so far, and think "man, that was stupid".XD I can't believe I didn't notice the pun until Jacqueline pointed it out. That is so funny xD
Good spirits on Rory too
39-7 Indeterminable
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
It wasn't a joke.
As stupid as it sounds, and as much as he was willing to acknowledge that fact, Triumph's civilian name really was Rory. Rory Christner, to be exact. It said so on his driver's licence, all three of his credit cards, his debit card, his library card, several receipts, his social security card, his chequebook, and the little "If Found Please Return To:" inset on his wallet.
I may have been disbelieving enough that he finally just hoofed over the whole shebang in order to shut me up. If you're curious, it also had a hundred and ten bucks worth of crisp fresh bills, no small change whatsoever, house and car keys, a tinfoil packet I pretended not to recognise as a prophylactic, several more receipts that didn't have his name but did have several digits each of his various credit cards, and several gift cards each for an overpriced coffee chain, a (relatively) high-end boutique and some restaurant I didn't recognise that referred to itself as "fine dining" with just enough class about the presentation that I couldn't immediately dismiss it as just marketing. (But, well, it was issuing gift cards…)
Clearly, we lived very different lives. I didn't need to very carefully avoid mentioning any of the numerous reasons I wouldn't have dared to keep all that in a single easily-snatchable receptacle, but only because I had more pressing subjects to ramble on about.
"Seriously?"
"Yes, seriously."
"Rory."
"Yes, I know."
"Sorry, sorry, it's just that the roaring-lion headressed roaring-named man who literally roars as his superpower real name being Rory is a bit of a curveball. What's next, is Otto Octavius gonna burst through the wall with his robot tentacles?"
"Who?"
"Is Roy G. Bivolo gonna fly through the window and start shooting rainbows out his rainbow goggles?"
"Seriously, what are you talking…"
I took the butterfly taking off from my wrist and landing on Triumph's mouth at this point as an implicit instruction to let me finish, and Triumph's allowing it and Sophia's continuing look of incredulous interest as indicating it would be taken, not that I needed it.
I had enough emotionally exhausted insouciance for this too.
"Is Gideon Mace, who calls himself Mace, just gonna show up in town with his mace that shoots mace? I mean, it's not like there isn't precedent for right-wing militia nuts from the rest of this country signing on with the Imps, he'd fit right in."
"Nominative Determinism is not supposed to be a real force in the world!"
And then I was done. At least for the moment, and for that moment silence reigned.
"... what's nominative determinism?"
Thank you, Sophia, for asking that question. I had honestly forgotten that the idea was more than a little esoteric for talking with a not particularly academically inclined tenth-grader, let alone one who you could reasonably argue was actually an admittedly slightly more academically interested seventh grader.
Slightly less thanks to Taylor for speaking up from the door as she came in and swiping my moment to redeem myself with explanations, but I'll concede she did do a good job of it (probably better than I would have if I'm being completely honest) and it did neatly skip past the stage of greetings, which probably would have been pretty awkward.
So long as nobody questioned it, anyway. And since I certainly wasn't going to, Sophia had neither the confidence nor the motivation to do so, and Triumph seemed willing to go along with whatever kept us all from collapsing into sobbing messes on him, it was fine.
"It's when your name determines something about you or your life. Or, since it's mostly a literary concept, usually the other way round."
Pretty much. It did lack the element of it not being intentional from people in-universe, but it was implied pretty well. And it wasn't like I had proof of that element here anyway.
It was entirely possible that most of Triumph/Rory's thing was human action with relatively minimal coincidence. His cape name and all the lion stuff were just post-hoc theming, no matter how on-the-nose they were, and I knew his sound bursts didn't have to be roaring even if that was what he went for nine times out of ten. But Rory wasn't the problem.
"Right, and that may be all well and good for Rory, but what about the rest of us?" I grumbled, even more disquieted that I let on. It was a disturbing possibility, and not just for what it implied about free will and the nature of the universe.
Disturbing enough that I didn't even notice Taylor getting close for a reassuring hug, actually. At least I wasn't so out of it as to miss the hug itself. It was nice. The words she shared were clearly supposed to be as nice, but I could hear the doubt in them as she assured me she didn't see anything wrong with our names.
She didn't exactly dream of making tailoring her life's work, but she did rather like making her own costume and she did have potential in the area nobody else did. And "wise" didn't seem to be too bad a thing to be in Sophia's case.
Even if neither of them seemed to think it apt, I couldn't argue with that. And personally I did feel that Sophia at least had the wisdom of caution, and some measure of her limits, bitterly won though that knowledge was. It was more than I could say for some.
Like Assault and Patron, and those are just the particularly egregious portion of those who are at least theoretically on my side. You can call common sense "common" all you like, but it sure ain't universal.
But Sophia and Taylor weren't the problem either.
"I, uhh, well I don't actually know what Jacqueline means, but it can't be too bad, right?"
I sighed.
"It's not. It's a pretty common meaning, really, if not a particularly common name. It's the feminine form of Jacques, and that in turn is just another one the countless derivatives of derivatives of an apostolic name. Jacqueline, Jacques, James, Jimmy, Jacklyn, Jacob, Jack, it all means the same thing: a bunch of long ago Christians thought it was a good idea to name their children after a decently significant figure in their mythology and didn't care to use the original Hebrew for one reason or another.
"It's a dreadfully common story, but not a particularly dreadful one. Well, some of those reasons are, but there are plenty more that aren't. No, it's not my personal name I'm worried about, I wouldn't have picked it if its symbolism was actively bad.
"It's my other name that I'm worried about."
I paused before I finally admitted the real issue, my voice as reluctant to acknowledge it as my heart.
"... I don't want my life to be all about anger."
As stupid as it sounds, and as much as he was willing to acknowledge that fact, Triumph's civilian name really was Rory. Rory Christner, to be exact. It said so on his driver's licence, all three of his credit cards, his debit card, his library card, several receipts, his social security card, his chequebook, and the little "If Found Please Return To:" inset on his wallet.
I may have been disbelieving enough that he finally just hoofed over the whole shebang in order to shut me up. If you're curious, it also had a hundred and ten bucks worth of crisp fresh bills, no small change whatsoever, house and car keys, a tinfoil packet I pretended not to recognise as a prophylactic, several more receipts that didn't have his name but did have several digits each of his various credit cards, and several gift cards each for an overpriced coffee chain, a (relatively) high-end boutique and some restaurant I didn't recognise that referred to itself as "fine dining" with just enough class about the presentation that I couldn't immediately dismiss it as just marketing. (But, well, it was issuing gift cards…)
Clearly, we lived very different lives. I didn't need to very carefully avoid mentioning any of the numerous reasons I wouldn't have dared to keep all that in a single easily-snatchable receptacle, but only because I had more pressing subjects to ramble on about.
"Seriously?"
"Yes, seriously."
"Rory."
"Yes, I know."
"Sorry, sorry, it's just that the roaring-lion headressed roaring-named man who literally roars as his superpower real name being Rory is a bit of a curveball. What's next, is Otto Octavius gonna burst through the wall with his robot tentacles?"
"Who?"
"Is Roy G. Bivolo gonna fly through the window and start shooting rainbows out his rainbow goggles?"
"Seriously, what are you talking…"
I took the butterfly taking off from my wrist and landing on Triumph's mouth at this point as an implicit instruction to let me finish, and Triumph's allowing it and Sophia's continuing look of incredulous interest as indicating it would be taken, not that I needed it.
I had enough emotionally exhausted insouciance for this too.
"Is Gideon Mace, who calls himself Mace, just gonna show up in town with his mace that shoots mace? I mean, it's not like there isn't precedent for right-wing militia nuts from the rest of this country signing on with the Imps, he'd fit right in."
"Nominative Determinism is not supposed to be a real force in the world!"
And then I was done. At least for the moment, and for that moment silence reigned.
"... what's nominative determinism?"
Thank you, Sophia, for asking that question. I had honestly forgotten that the idea was more than a little esoteric for talking with a not particularly academically inclined tenth-grader, let alone one who you could reasonably argue was actually an admittedly slightly more academically interested seventh grader.
Slightly less thanks to Taylor for speaking up from the door as she came in and swiping my moment to redeem myself with explanations, but I'll concede she did do a good job of it (probably better than I would have if I'm being completely honest) and it did neatly skip past the stage of greetings, which probably would have been pretty awkward.
So long as nobody questioned it, anyway. And since I certainly wasn't going to, Sophia had neither the confidence nor the motivation to do so, and Triumph seemed willing to go along with whatever kept us all from collapsing into sobbing messes on him, it was fine.
"It's when your name determines something about you or your life. Or, since it's mostly a literary concept, usually the other way round."
Pretty much. It did lack the element of it not being intentional from people in-universe, but it was implied pretty well. And it wasn't like I had proof of that element here anyway.
It was entirely possible that most of Triumph/Rory's thing was human action with relatively minimal coincidence. His cape name and all the lion stuff were just post-hoc theming, no matter how on-the-nose they were, and I knew his sound bursts didn't have to be roaring even if that was what he went for nine times out of ten. But Rory wasn't the problem.
"Right, and that may be all well and good for Rory, but what about the rest of us?" I grumbled, even more disquieted that I let on. It was a disturbing possibility, and not just for what it implied about free will and the nature of the universe.
Disturbing enough that I didn't even notice Taylor getting close for a reassuring hug, actually. At least I wasn't so out of it as to miss the hug itself. It was nice. The words she shared were clearly supposed to be as nice, but I could hear the doubt in them as she assured me she didn't see anything wrong with our names.
She didn't exactly dream of making tailoring her life's work, but she did rather like making her own costume and she did have potential in the area nobody else did. And "wise" didn't seem to be too bad a thing to be in Sophia's case.
Even if neither of them seemed to think it apt, I couldn't argue with that. And personally I did feel that Sophia at least had the wisdom of caution, and some measure of her limits, bitterly won though that knowledge was. It was more than I could say for some.
Like Assault and Patron, and those are just the particularly egregious portion of those who are at least theoretically on my side. You can call common sense "common" all you like, but it sure ain't universal.
But Sophia and Taylor weren't the problem either.
"I, uhh, well I don't actually know what Jacqueline means, but it can't be too bad, right?"
I sighed.
"It's not. It's a pretty common meaning, really, if not a particularly common name. It's the feminine form of Jacques, and that in turn is just another one the countless derivatives of derivatives of an apostolic name. Jacqueline, Jacques, James, Jimmy, Jacklyn, Jacob, Jack, it all means the same thing: a bunch of long ago Christians thought it was a good idea to name their children after a decently significant figure in their mythology and didn't care to use the original Hebrew for one reason or another.
"It's a dreadfully common story, but not a particularly dreadful one. Well, some of those reasons are, but there are plenty more that aren't. No, it's not my personal name I'm worried about, I wouldn't have picked it if its symbolism was actively bad.
"It's my other name that I'm worried about."
I paused before I finally admitted the real issue, my voice as reluctant to acknowledge it as my heart.
"... I don't want my life to be all about anger."
Of course, literal meanings aren't the only way nominative determinism comes out to play. Most of the time in comic books it's puns: Rory is (probably) mostly unrelated to actual roaring. (And though Taylor is, actually, derived from the profession, albeit with both being in French, it's unclear whether she actually knows that.) Other times, it's because the name is shared with somebody important and/or symbolically relevant, or at least they share common roots.
On an unrelated note, Jacqueline's only listing names derived from the same name in the Bible as hers (albeit one that multiple characters share), and only those that are either common enough or closely related enough to her own for her to remember off the top of her head. (Jacklyn being the normal diminutive form of Jacqueline, and Jacques of course being the name Jacqueline is directly derived from.) Otherwise the list would be significantly longer.
Otto Octavius, Roy G. Bivolo, and Gideon Mace are real comic book characters, being the civilian identities of Dr. Octopus, The Rainbow Raider, and, well, Mace, enemies of Spiderman, The Flash, and Luke Cage respectively. All three are pre-Scion, and presumably were published on Earth Bet, but in this timeline they're all very obscure references.
On an unrelated note, Jacqueline's only listing names derived from the same name in the Bible as hers (albeit one that multiple characters share), and only those that are either common enough or closely related enough to her own for her to remember off the top of her head. (Jacklyn being the normal diminutive form of Jacqueline, and Jacques of course being the name Jacqueline is directly derived from.) Otherwise the list would be significantly longer.
Otto Octavius, Roy G. Bivolo, and Gideon Mace are real comic book characters, being the civilian identities of Dr. Octopus, The Rainbow Raider, and, well, Mace, enemies of Spiderman, The Flash, and Luke Cage respectively. All three are pre-Scion, and presumably were published on Earth Bet, but in this timeline they're all very obscure references.
39-8 Inhaul
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
"I don't want my life to be all about anger."
There was a distinct note of silence after I said that. Not that anybody had precisely interrupted me before, but this was a different level of not interrupting. Before, it was politeness, mixed with amusement and, admittedly, a certain amount of tolerance and concern. Now it was solemnity.
Triumph and Sophia sat as still and silent as the grave. Taylor backed off just enough to let me be completely serious, but her hand remained steadfast on my shoulder.
I appreciated that, even if it meant that it fell upon me to break the silence.
"... I don't like acting out of anger. Lashing out doesn't make things better. It just makes more pain and spreads it around. Even when the person on the receiving end deserves it, it doesn't actually fix anything. I know that.
"But it hasn't stopped me."
I could tell they all wanted to interject at that point. Make me feel better about it, probably by reminding me I had perfectly understandable reasons to be angry. And I did.
"I know, we all know, that this world has given me no shortage of good cause, both for my own sake and that of others. You two," and here I gestured vaguely at the other minors in the room, "have had some truly awful things happen to you for no good reason, and you're hardly the only ones."
"After everything I've seen, everything I know, everything that's happened, I don't think it's in any way unusual for me to be just a touch irked. With Purity, with Coil, with Leviathan, with callousness and malice and supervillainy and this whole broken world in general. With those first three in particular I can't even say they wouldn't deserve every ounce of it."
"But I don't like what it's done to me, or what I've done with it."
"The way I denounced Purity was stupid. It would have been reckless and impulsive even if it had just been my life on the line, but it wasn't. We were in a crowded hospital ward, and the woman had long shown that she was entirely capable of causing massive amounts of collateral damage on a whim. I was specifically calling her out on causing massive amounts of collateral damage on a whim. I knew full well that if she started firing for effect the entire building would be going down, and there would have been nothing I could do about it.
"And, because I was angry, because I was viciously, incandescently furious, I poked that bear anyway. I can't say any of what I said to her was wrong, and there's no arguing that she didn't deserve it, but it wasn't worth risking all those lives. It wasn't worth risking any of those lives."
I looked Sophia in the eyes as I said that last sentence, and maintained eye contact as I told her "it wasn't worth risking your life. I'm sorry."
To her credit, she looked me straight back in the eyes and visibly considered that before she nodded and gently called me out on what I didn't say.
"It wasn't worth risking yours either."
I think we all respected her a little more after that. I know I did, and if Taylor's gaze wasn't about that (and a large spoonful of confusion, to be fair) I don't know her half as well as I think I do.
If we were carefully ignoring the tears in her eyes, what of it?
It wasn't like any of ours were dry.
(Even Triumph's, and if he wasn't making it obvious he wasn't exactly hiding it either. I suppose he was probably supposed to be supervising us and providing a good example of how to deal with a horrifically messed up situation.)
"...no," I admitted. "No, it wasn't. None of it was worth any of it."
…
"I was mad at Coil too, you know."
If any of my fellow teenaged superheroes found the apparent non-sequitur odd, they didn't mention it. I would have been surprised if they did, honestly. I was fairly sure "odd" was expected by that point in the conversation.
"I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to die painfully, and while I doubt I ever would have acted on it if he hadn't forced the issue with the abduction and the blowtorch thing, I wanted it to be by my hand.
"Instead, he died under my boot."
It belatedly occurred to me that maybe this wasn't the safest topic of discussion to be bringing up in front of Sophia. Or, well, most people, but Sophia not only had more reason to be disturbed by the mere mention of the man than anybody else; she was also the only person who'd seen him "die under my boot" in real time.
She didn't seem particularly offput though. No more so than she had already been, which was admittedly a considerable amount. But the only change was that the sympathy suddenly had an edge of bloodthirst to it.
Maybe she hadn't seen it after all. Tears can be as blinding as blowtorches, though one is generally considerably easier to regain full vision afterwards than the other.
Or maybe she had. Just as she had more reason to be disturbed by the mere mention of the man than anybody else, she also had more reason than anybody else to want him dead. I really couldn't blame her either way.
But I also couldn't share her feelings on the matter. Not anymore.
"He died more brutally, painfully, and humiliatingly than I could have possibly imagined. I was the one to do it. It was everything my anger told me I should have wanted. That I had wanted, if only idly.
"And it didn't make me feel any better. Oh, I'm relieved that he won't be able to hurt anybody ever again. In that sense I'm glad he's dead. And I can't say he didn't have it coming. I won't dispute that he had to die. But I'm not even slightly glad that I was responsible, or that his death was as horrific as it was. There's no justice to be found in splattered cranial fluid, no sweetness to revenge wrought in shattered skulls."
"It doesn't make anything better. I know what making things better looks like.
"I can't say it's always that much prettier, but there's more to it than the aesthetics. That ward in Brockton Bay General had plenty of the horrific, alongside the simply disgusting and the laboriously boring, but I was doing good work there. I saved lives. Not all of them, but we lost a lot fewer people than we would have if I hadn't been there. Even discounting the aura, I helped a lot of people feel just a bit better in the hardest of times."
"That's a far better legacy than a slurry of flesh and bone and fluids left on expensive tiling."
That got nods, and not reluctant ones. Disquieted, yes, and for good reason, but not reluctant.
"Anger almost cost me all of that good and more. I only averted that by choking it down under my fear and relying on my rationality and my understanding of people and politics to get me out of the hole I dug for myself. And even then it was far, far too close for comfort.
"I can't say that anger isn't a part of me. It is. I am angry, and I have a right to be. But I don't want it to be in the driver's seat. I don't want it making decisions for me. I want to be able to move past it, one day, even though I'm fairly sure I'm not really ready to do so.
"The roaring thing is fine. It's a stupid pun that's been played into way too hard, and I can't even tell if it was on purpose or not, but at the end of the day it's harmless. Funny, even. It's not what I'd've picked to define myself or my life, but in the end it's your decision. But I don't want anger to be what characterises my life.
"I just don't know if not wanting it to is going to be enough to stop it."
There was a distinct note of silence after I said that. Not that anybody had precisely interrupted me before, but this was a different level of not interrupting. Before, it was politeness, mixed with amusement and, admittedly, a certain amount of tolerance and concern. Now it was solemnity.
Triumph and Sophia sat as still and silent as the grave. Taylor backed off just enough to let me be completely serious, but her hand remained steadfast on my shoulder.
I appreciated that, even if it meant that it fell upon me to break the silence.
"... I don't like acting out of anger. Lashing out doesn't make things better. It just makes more pain and spreads it around. Even when the person on the receiving end deserves it, it doesn't actually fix anything. I know that.
"But it hasn't stopped me."
I could tell they all wanted to interject at that point. Make me feel better about it, probably by reminding me I had perfectly understandable reasons to be angry. And I did.
"I know, we all know, that this world has given me no shortage of good cause, both for my own sake and that of others. You two," and here I gestured vaguely at the other minors in the room, "have had some truly awful things happen to you for no good reason, and you're hardly the only ones."
"After everything I've seen, everything I know, everything that's happened, I don't think it's in any way unusual for me to be just a touch irked. With Purity, with Coil, with Leviathan, with callousness and malice and supervillainy and this whole broken world in general. With those first three in particular I can't even say they wouldn't deserve every ounce of it."
"But I don't like what it's done to me, or what I've done with it."
"The way I denounced Purity was stupid. It would have been reckless and impulsive even if it had just been my life on the line, but it wasn't. We were in a crowded hospital ward, and the woman had long shown that she was entirely capable of causing massive amounts of collateral damage on a whim. I was specifically calling her out on causing massive amounts of collateral damage on a whim. I knew full well that if she started firing for effect the entire building would be going down, and there would have been nothing I could do about it.
"And, because I was angry, because I was viciously, incandescently furious, I poked that bear anyway. I can't say any of what I said to her was wrong, and there's no arguing that she didn't deserve it, but it wasn't worth risking all those lives. It wasn't worth risking any of those lives."
I looked Sophia in the eyes as I said that last sentence, and maintained eye contact as I told her "it wasn't worth risking your life. I'm sorry."
To her credit, she looked me straight back in the eyes and visibly considered that before she nodded and gently called me out on what I didn't say.
"It wasn't worth risking yours either."
I think we all respected her a little more after that. I know I did, and if Taylor's gaze wasn't about that (and a large spoonful of confusion, to be fair) I don't know her half as well as I think I do.
If we were carefully ignoring the tears in her eyes, what of it?
It wasn't like any of ours were dry.
(Even Triumph's, and if he wasn't making it obvious he wasn't exactly hiding it either. I suppose he was probably supposed to be supervising us and providing a good example of how to deal with a horrifically messed up situation.)
"...no," I admitted. "No, it wasn't. None of it was worth any of it."
…
"I was mad at Coil too, you know."
If any of my fellow teenaged superheroes found the apparent non-sequitur odd, they didn't mention it. I would have been surprised if they did, honestly. I was fairly sure "odd" was expected by that point in the conversation.
"I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to die painfully, and while I doubt I ever would have acted on it if he hadn't forced the issue with the abduction and the blowtorch thing, I wanted it to be by my hand.
"Instead, he died under my boot."
It belatedly occurred to me that maybe this wasn't the safest topic of discussion to be bringing up in front of Sophia. Or, well, most people, but Sophia not only had more reason to be disturbed by the mere mention of the man than anybody else; she was also the only person who'd seen him "die under my boot" in real time.
She didn't seem particularly offput though. No more so than she had already been, which was admittedly a considerable amount. But the only change was that the sympathy suddenly had an edge of bloodthirst to it.
Maybe she hadn't seen it after all. Tears can be as blinding as blowtorches, though one is generally considerably easier to regain full vision afterwards than the other.
Or maybe she had. Just as she had more reason to be disturbed by the mere mention of the man than anybody else, she also had more reason than anybody else to want him dead. I really couldn't blame her either way.
But I also couldn't share her feelings on the matter. Not anymore.
"He died more brutally, painfully, and humiliatingly than I could have possibly imagined. I was the one to do it. It was everything my anger told me I should have wanted. That I had wanted, if only idly.
"And it didn't make me feel any better. Oh, I'm relieved that he won't be able to hurt anybody ever again. In that sense I'm glad he's dead. And I can't say he didn't have it coming. I won't dispute that he had to die. But I'm not even slightly glad that I was responsible, or that his death was as horrific as it was. There's no justice to be found in splattered cranial fluid, no sweetness to revenge wrought in shattered skulls."
"It doesn't make anything better. I know what making things better looks like.
"I can't say it's always that much prettier, but there's more to it than the aesthetics. That ward in Brockton Bay General had plenty of the horrific, alongside the simply disgusting and the laboriously boring, but I was doing good work there. I saved lives. Not all of them, but we lost a lot fewer people than we would have if I hadn't been there. Even discounting the aura, I helped a lot of people feel just a bit better in the hardest of times."
"That's a far better legacy than a slurry of flesh and bone and fluids left on expensive tiling."
That got nods, and not reluctant ones. Disquieted, yes, and for good reason, but not reluctant.
"Anger almost cost me all of that good and more. I only averted that by choking it down under my fear and relying on my rationality and my understanding of people and politics to get me out of the hole I dug for myself. And even then it was far, far too close for comfort.
"I can't say that anger isn't a part of me. It is. I am angry, and I have a right to be. But I don't want it to be in the driver's seat. I don't want it making decisions for me. I want to be able to move past it, one day, even though I'm fairly sure I'm not really ready to do so.
"The roaring thing is fine. It's a stupid pun that's been played into way too hard, and I can't even tell if it was on purpose or not, but at the end of the day it's harmless. Funny, even. It's not what I'd've picked to define myself or my life, but in the end it's your decision. But I don't want anger to be what characterises my life.
"I just don't know if not wanting it to is going to be enough to stop it."
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39-9 Indissolubility (Interlude: Taylor)
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Taylor:
"... I don't want my life to be all about anger."
Taylor Anne Hebert understood Jacqueline Colere's tone long before she understood the girl's words. The tone was a familiar one, easy to recognize. Weary and wary alike, as tired about what had happened as it was distressed at what might and would. Taylor had certainly used it often enough, if not so much been listened to.
And as much as she didn't like hearing it from Jacqueline, it was by no means the first time.
The words, on the other hand, were difficult, both because it took her a moment to remember that name "Colere" did, in fact, mean that and because Jacqueline was the last person she expected to need to say something like that.
Jacqueline was not, in Taylor's view, an angry person. She was kind, (more so than Taylor really deserved, but which Taylor had come to accept anyway) she saw things very differently from other people, (more accurately, Taylor halfway suspected, even if it sometimes led her wrong,) and she was, of course, so very, very afraid, (something that broke Taylor's heart a little every time she thought about it,) but she wasn't angry.
Except apparently she was.
A part of Taylor wondered if she only hadn't noticed it because she'd expected anybody who was angry to be angry at her, and didn't like it. She certainly had enough experience with biting down fury to feel that there had to be a reason she hadn't recognized it before. But that was a concern for a future time.
Another part, the part that knew what the kind of things Jacqueline tended to speak on when she took that tone, withdrew from the hug, backing off just enough to maintain the dignity with which such matters ought to be handled while still showing support.
(If that part of Taylor was operating on a mish-mash of what she'd been taught for the funeral of one Annette Hebert, long and bitter years before, and what she'd observed over the months before and after that dark day and the past week and a half alike, well, that was what she had. It would have to be enough.)
Most, however, was listening, and trying to understand.
Taylor would, she decided, find out what exactly Purity had done. She could, provisionally, accept that Jacqueline might have acted unwisely, as sweet as the girl was she wasn't perfect, but there was no way the supervillain was innocent in the situation. Not with her track record, and especially not with Jacqueline's.
It was a weird and not entirely comfortable feeling, seeing this Sophia show spine. For all that they had the same face and body, and for all that it was difficult to emotionally separate the two, that was a consistent difference. Sophia the bully was always, always, confident, no matter what she was doing. Sophia the Master-victim was always, always, on edge.
Until, just for a moment, just for long enough to make a point Taylor could not in any way disagree with, she stood up and let herself be counted.
For Jacqueline's sake, even if it meant standing up to Jacqueline. Taylor had to respect that. She didn't particularly want to, she didn't want to muddy the already emotionally-complicated waters between them further with actively positive feelings, pity was more than bad enough, but she did.
She understood the impulsion behind it all too well, after all.
(Even if the sorrow behind "none of it was worth any of it" broke all their hearts.)
Taylor had, herself, wanted to kill Coil. Imagined it, even, in a great many creative and interesting ways. She was glad he was dead. That didn't mean she was happy with how it happened. The abduction, the torture, the very real possibility that the taken might not have returned, or been unharmed or even themselves even if they did…
Well, it will suffice to say she was still more than a little upset.
Jacqueline had other reasons. Taylor didn't think she was any happier with any of Taylor's reasons than Taylor herself was, even if the girl was somewhat eccentric she wasn't insane, but the reason she was giving was a surprise to Taylor.
"…There's no justice to be found in splattered cranial fluid, no sweetness to revenge wrought in shattered skulls."
Was there? Joy in death, that is, not in the specific gruesome manner it occurred in. Taylor had never killed. She'd wanted to, considered it more than once. Wondered. But she'd never followed through, never even lifted a hand (or mouth) to strike with such intent, never come close to doing so by accident.
Now Taylor wondered if she would find it as empty as Jacqueline had, or if there would be something more, something dark and gleeful or just grimly, comfortingly necessary to it. She wasn't sure which would be worse.
Taylor hoped she wouldn't have to find out. She hated that Jacqueline had.
"It doesn't make anything better. I know what making things better looks like."
That was good wasn't it? Taylor sure didn't.
"...I saved lives. Not all of them, but we lost a lot fewer people than we would have if I hadn't been there. Even discounting the aura, I helped a lot of people feel just a bit better in the hardest of times. That's a far better legacy than a slurry of flesh and bone and fluids left on expensive tiling."
She had, hadn't she? She was good at it. Jacqueline's ability and sheer drive to make the bad times less bad was exactly the reason Taylor liked her so much.
And hadn't Taylor done the same? The lifesaving, definitely, and she'd done her best at being comforting. It hadn't worked, and the rest of it hadn't gone as well as it could have, but she'd done a lot. And she would do better next time.
(She couldn't bring herself to believe there wouldn't be a next time. She knew better.)
Jacqueline seemed so sure "making things better" was the better path for her to take. Taylor wasn't going to argue. Her hand tightened around Jacqueline's shoulder in support as she put her thoughts together.
Jacqueline had Taylor's support in this decision. No question about it. The only question was how best to let her know, but it was a difficult one.
By the time Taylor was ready to speak up, Triumph was confessing to punching Assault in the face.
… well perhaps it was a conversation better had in private anyway.
"... I don't want my life to be all about anger."
Taylor Anne Hebert understood Jacqueline Colere's tone long before she understood the girl's words. The tone was a familiar one, easy to recognize. Weary and wary alike, as tired about what had happened as it was distressed at what might and would. Taylor had certainly used it often enough, if not so much been listened to.
And as much as she didn't like hearing it from Jacqueline, it was by no means the first time.
The words, on the other hand, were difficult, both because it took her a moment to remember that name "Colere" did, in fact, mean that and because Jacqueline was the last person she expected to need to say something like that.
Jacqueline was not, in Taylor's view, an angry person. She was kind, (more so than Taylor really deserved, but which Taylor had come to accept anyway) she saw things very differently from other people, (more accurately, Taylor halfway suspected, even if it sometimes led her wrong,) and she was, of course, so very, very afraid, (something that broke Taylor's heart a little every time she thought about it,) but she wasn't angry.
Except apparently she was.
A part of Taylor wondered if she only hadn't noticed it because she'd expected anybody who was angry to be angry at her, and didn't like it. She certainly had enough experience with biting down fury to feel that there had to be a reason she hadn't recognized it before. But that was a concern for a future time.
Another part, the part that knew what the kind of things Jacqueline tended to speak on when she took that tone, withdrew from the hug, backing off just enough to maintain the dignity with which such matters ought to be handled while still showing support.
(If that part of Taylor was operating on a mish-mash of what she'd been taught for the funeral of one Annette Hebert, long and bitter years before, and what she'd observed over the months before and after that dark day and the past week and a half alike, well, that was what she had. It would have to be enough.)
Most, however, was listening, and trying to understand.
Taylor would, she decided, find out what exactly Purity had done. She could, provisionally, accept that Jacqueline might have acted unwisely, as sweet as the girl was she wasn't perfect, but there was no way the supervillain was innocent in the situation. Not with her track record, and especially not with Jacqueline's.
It was a weird and not entirely comfortable feeling, seeing this Sophia show spine. For all that they had the same face and body, and for all that it was difficult to emotionally separate the two, that was a consistent difference. Sophia the bully was always, always, confident, no matter what she was doing. Sophia the Master-victim was always, always, on edge.
Until, just for a moment, just for long enough to make a point Taylor could not in any way disagree with, she stood up and let herself be counted.
For Jacqueline's sake, even if it meant standing up to Jacqueline. Taylor had to respect that. She didn't particularly want to, she didn't want to muddy the already emotionally-complicated waters between them further with actively positive feelings, pity was more than bad enough, but she did.
She understood the impulsion behind it all too well, after all.
(Even if the sorrow behind "none of it was worth any of it" broke all their hearts.)
Taylor had, herself, wanted to kill Coil. Imagined it, even, in a great many creative and interesting ways. She was glad he was dead. That didn't mean she was happy with how it happened. The abduction, the torture, the very real possibility that the taken might not have returned, or been unharmed or even themselves even if they did…
Well, it will suffice to say she was still more than a little upset.
Jacqueline had other reasons. Taylor didn't think she was any happier with any of Taylor's reasons than Taylor herself was, even if the girl was somewhat eccentric she wasn't insane, but the reason she was giving was a surprise to Taylor.
"…There's no justice to be found in splattered cranial fluid, no sweetness to revenge wrought in shattered skulls."
Was there? Joy in death, that is, not in the specific gruesome manner it occurred in. Taylor had never killed. She'd wanted to, considered it more than once. Wondered. But she'd never followed through, never even lifted a hand (or mouth) to strike with such intent, never come close to doing so by accident.
Now Taylor wondered if she would find it as empty as Jacqueline had, or if there would be something more, something dark and gleeful or just grimly, comfortingly necessary to it. She wasn't sure which would be worse.
Taylor hoped she wouldn't have to find out. She hated that Jacqueline had.
"It doesn't make anything better. I know what making things better looks like."
That was good wasn't it? Taylor sure didn't.
"...I saved lives. Not all of them, but we lost a lot fewer people than we would have if I hadn't been there. Even discounting the aura, I helped a lot of people feel just a bit better in the hardest of times. That's a far better legacy than a slurry of flesh and bone and fluids left on expensive tiling."
She had, hadn't she? She was good at it. Jacqueline's ability and sheer drive to make the bad times less bad was exactly the reason Taylor liked her so much.
And hadn't Taylor done the same? The lifesaving, definitely, and she'd done her best at being comforting. It hadn't worked, and the rest of it hadn't gone as well as it could have, but she'd done a lot. And she would do better next time.
(She couldn't bring herself to believe there wouldn't be a next time. She knew better.)
Jacqueline seemed so sure "making things better" was the better path for her to take. Taylor wasn't going to argue. Her hand tightened around Jacqueline's shoulder in support as she put her thoughts together.
Jacqueline had Taylor's support in this decision. No question about it. The only question was how best to let her know, but it was a difficult one.
By the time Taylor was ready to speak up, Triumph was confessing to punching Assault in the face.
… well perhaps it was a conversation better had in private anyway.
- Pronouns
- She/They
... You know, Rory, honestly, that's an urge that a lot of people have had, and the longer your Ethan exposure the more likely you are to snap. At least your snap only resulted in a punch and not marrying the idiot! (Who I'm sure has some redeeming qualities, especially in other works, but my goodness is he just absolutely overwhelmingly terrible with the Orderly!Wards.)