etrayamemes | TDM 001

Entry tags:

!tdm

TDM 001

⏵ arrival⏴
Arrival goes as anticipated. Characters awaken in the pristine, new hospital, greeted by Aurora and potentially getting a rundown of what's happening depending on their approach to being dropped somewhere new. The door to their room opens, and new arrivals are left free to explore their new environment.

Or what exists of it anyway. Exiting the hospital will show that there isn't much of anything just yet. Generally, Echo can build new facilities before new arrivals awaken, but it appears that this time… well, it didn't happen. The apartment complex exists, standing just beside the hospital, and there are a few facilities that are half constructed, companion bots carrying around rebar and other necessary bits and pieces, but they're not quite ready. Oops. But maybe, just maybe, one of those half-built facilities is familiar - a childhood home, a favorite supermarket, the run-down garage they worked at as a youth, a grounded spaceship in the middle of one of the massive bridges connecting land over rivers.

The companion bots will offer quiet apologies if approached; they were expecting new arrivals to touch down, but not quite this early. They'll be ready soon! A few more days at most, they promise. In the meantime, do not stray too far from the hospital. While most of Etraya looks habitable, they have not finished verifying that it's safe for its new inhabitants.

The apartment building and hospital are safe, and the land directly around them is fine, but beyond that? Stay away. But hey, the hospital's cafeteria is fully stocked with cuisine from across the multiverse! Please feel free to settle in, choose an apartment, and get to know your new friends.

⏵ water you doing?⏴
Decide not to listen? Well, the companion bots had offered their warnings.

Etraya is a new establishment, one that received newcomers before it was ready. And as such, the land has not quite been prepared for their arrival. Wandering off the land the apartment building and hospital are settled on comes with very, very poor results. Take a step down into the river below, and you'll find yourself uncomfortably hot. Or cold. Or hot and cold, because whatever that 'water' is, it wasn't meant to be played in. The only way to resolve the temperature regulation issue, as Aurora informs, is finding a buddy to cuddle up with. Those who are lucky may have a nearby friend they're familiar with and don't mind leaning a shoulder against. Those that don't? Well. . . have fun having a very uncomfortable conversation with a stranger, asking them if it's alright if you lean into them or hold their hand for a bit. Any physical contact will do, as long as it's directly skin-to-skin.

Except that's not where the contact stops. Characters will find that, for the next several hours, they'll feel everything that their companion feels. Frustration, anger, amusement, homesickness that comes from being so far away from their families and friends - all those feelings? They're not your feelings, they're our feelings now.

No explanation is given for how the empathy bond and the temperature regulation are related, but it may have to do with how since they had decided not to listen, it was time to test how well they could cohabitate with their new friends.

⏵ bonding bingo ⏴

Maybe it feels a little too much like Obi-Wan had when receiving Leia's message, but all new arrivals are their universe's only hope. Except they're not the only ones arriving, and not the only ones who are trying to keep their worlds safe. Instead, they've arrived with several others who carry the same weight on their shoulders. And they aren't meant to go through this alone. The people they've arrived with are both their new companions and their competition. Both comrades to fight beside and enemies to battle against, depending on what the specific mission of the month is. But currently?

They're here to bond. It's important to get to know those who they'll be spending the next unspecified but lengthy amount of time with, isn't it? To that extent, Aurora's hologram waits just inside the hospital's front doors, offering bonding bingo cards to those willing to participate. It's not necessary, but she does specify that this is one way to get ahead: cooperation is important, especially given what they're going to face together. Bingo cards are three long and three across, and offer a multitude of activities you can do to check each box off.

Some examples include:

Learn someone's biggest secret

Get into a fight

Tell someone something that you've never admitted out loud to

Throw a drink on someone

Win a game of pool in the apartment building's recreation room

Cheat on a card game without getting caught

Hug a new friend

Get stabbed

Steal something important to someone

Pull off an elaborate prank on a stranger

⏵ matchmaker ⏴

When the earpiece is put on, a nice green HUD(head-up display) lights up in front of new arrivals. It asks them for their name, which is fairly standard for these.

Except it seems it wants them to put together a profile to help pair them off with other new arrivals. For some, this information may autofill with what Aurora was able to discern about them from watching them in their home worlds. But some lucky individuals may catch their profiles before they're posted live, and have the opportunity to edit out information included in fields, even if they're not able to clear it out entirely.

Welcome to Aurora's idea of matchmaking. Have fun getting paired off with a buddy or four, with your profiles exchanged between one another. Maybe they're the perfect match. Maybe this is a nightmare in the making.

⏵ OOC ⏴
Welcome to our first TDM! We're excited to have you here. For more information on character arrivals, click here. For any questions relating to the TDM please reply below. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ.

⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The last time Krouse did this was with Luke, early on, when he was still figuring out his power. Back when there were parts of everything happening that could be kind of fun, for a while. They'd gone down to a lake close to one of the motels they'd stopped at before sunset and stayed out almost an hour after the early spring evening turned cold, talking in fits and starts about not much.

Their friendship died slowly. He thought he'd come to terms with it. Just another of those mistakes.

If he'd known those would be the last times, really known it, what would he have done differently? ]

I highly doubt it.

[ He smiles at the dirt, building a less organized pile close to Noelle's own. He'll share his rocks with her, obviously. It's less fun if you get picky about whose ammunition is whose. ]

I actually kind of suck at this.

[ He wasn't as good as Luke was, at least, and he assumes Noelle is as good as that, if not better. If she wanted to get good at skipping stones, she'd have practised until she was.

Luke's power didn't work for this. Every stone he threw with it sliced into the water with barely a splash. They'd been trying to see if he could slow it down, and when he couldn't, they'd just tried to see if he could stop. When the first stone finally skipped, Luke had laughed like something popped in his chest.

Maybe it'll work again. ]

So, you want to go first? Show me how it's done?

[ The little shit -

Tim isn't running after him. Calling after him, yes, but he is not giving him the satisfaction of following him into the damn cave.

You can't solo speed run this mess, Robin! I don't care if you like me, but we're stuck together and you're going to have to live with it.

[ God dammit, he can't grapple out and leave Damian to the cave, because he trusts this place less than he trusts Damian's foul mood. Two minutes. He'll give him two minutes and then follow. For now, he's getting samples out here. He'll look for cut lines on the shale to see if the cave is entirely manufactured. ]

[from all things considered like the fact she was covered in blood, she can't exactly fault clarke for not recognizing her right away. it is when the other girl pulls out the bingo card that it does shed some light on what the real cause of it was]

Oh— [she had pocketed her own in the aftermath of the water bottle incident and recognized clarke as the person who threw it towards her. she just nods and retreives hers to similarly show the other girl] Yeah, I got one— so that bingo card was the reason behind all that?

( clarke feels the heat in her own face, knows that a vaguely purple flush is rising up across her neck and takes a deep breath as if faux composure could counter bone deep embarrassment. she ducks her head a little, but mutters: )

I couldn't figure out the point of this game, so I figured I might as well —... ( play along?

she's done this once or twice, on grander scales. like buying into the safety of mount weather, which allowed her to figure out how to get back into the infirmary and thus into the ducts and out of the mountain entirely. it feels dirty to admit, especially with such an unforeseen outcome as having accidentally pelted on of her own people with aforementioned water bottle, but...

it's the truth. )

[ if octavia notices clarke looking a little embarrassed, she doesn't comment on it. she looks over her own bingo card once more as she listens to clarke, she does understand what the other girl was trying do ] Have you had any luck with that since playing along?

( he doesn't answer drake, at first. instead, he keeps walking deeper into the cavern, towards the cave proper. stops before he gets to the wide open area and--waits there for timothy to catch up. not because he wants to have this conversation, this isn't the time for it. but because they're stuck here together whether they like it or not, just as drake has said, they're going to need to have it.

damian doesn't turn back toward him, but he hears drake's approach. raises his chin a little to make it clear who he's talking to. )

You don't like me, remember?

You’re the one who hates me. Would we be friends? No, probably not, we’re too different. But I’ve never treated you differently than I would any other person. You got the same allowances and the same scrutiny. I didn’t give you some impossible to clear hurdle: I just didn’t make you a special case.

[ Tim’s in the trophy area of the cave, half concentrating on cataloguing the history of this cave to attempt to keep his voice level. (He needs to be more like Dick.)

(Isn’t that always the case? ]

I don’t go around tackling you on sight, dropping down on top of you, or throwing you off the damn dinosaur.

[ Yes, he points at the dinosaur as he says it. Tim’s glad it’s here to help him prove his point. ]

I don’t know what your problem is with me. Sometimes, I get the faintest glimpse of something socially neutral, and I start to think I see how you get along with Connor, and then it’s right back to outright antagonism that physically puts me at risk. If you want me to like you, try not trying to put me in a full body sling. The bar’s so low you could trip over it, but you need to feel like you’re better than me for reasons. And worse, the only way you now how to do that is assault. You’re a good Robin when I’m not in the room, but you’re a shitty brother. All I’m asking for is “annoying baby brother”.

Edited 2024-04-30 19:15 (UTC)

( the fact tim makes his way through his whole spiel without getting a sword at his throat speaks volumes for how far along damian's self-control has come. he understands where the you're the one who hates me comes from. damian walked into the cave at ten years old with something to prove, and he'd seen drake as an obstacle to that. another child his father had taken in for his crusade, someone standing right in damian's place. damian knows well his initial reaction wasn't ideal. that while he may have felt the need to defeat drake to show his father he was more than capable of taking the role, that drake was weaker than him, it was unnecessary. the wayne household doesn't weigh strength the way the al ghuls do. he no longer needs to press his boot down into the throats of his rivals to prove he's worthy.

damian had shifted the way he'd handled his siblings. shifted how he responded himself. tempered his instincts to something more palpable. something he still, actively works at when he finds himself getting irritated. like now.

his jaw clenches tight, the strain visible from how the muscle twitches. this isn't his fault, this is drake's fault. drake has always always thought himself to be better than him. damian has tried to be better with him, yet drake always finds a way to prove just how little he thinks of him.

the urge to lurch forward, to show drake just how special damian has been treating him up to this point. that he's here, keeping a significant distance between them when what he wants to do is show off just how pointy the blades in his gauntlets are. but that would be proving the point drake is making, wouldn't it. that damian feels the need to prove himself through violence, assault, whatever he wants to refer to it as.

when he opens his mouth, his voice is too even. it lacks the edge damian generally speaks with, and instead settles into something eerily soft. )

You want to fit me into a neat little box, yet you're unwilling to treat me as you would any other brother you've laid claim to. Have you considered that you're the problem, Drake?

( no violence. he's not leaping forward to knock tim down. he won't give him the satisfaction of reacting as expected. instead, damian's turning around on his heels, and heading back out of the cave the way he came in. )

Edited 2024-04-30 20:04 (UTC)

[ On what planet does Tim treat Damian as less than any other brother? Jason exists. ]

How do I not treat you like I treat them? You think I trusted Hood so easily after he came back? Things are better, but they’re still not great. Work in progress, but we’re trying to understand each other. He’s never gonna be Dick. I’m always going to be his replacement. Baby steps. We can work together. Still my brother.

I have a contingency plan for him, too, and for Kon. And for Superman, and for B, and two dozen other people that I know personally. Being someone I love doesn’t get people out of it. The only people I don’t have them for are people I’m confident I could take. And Dick.

[ Because… he hasn’t managed to put one together. There’s a mental block there, and a stubborn refusal to believe that it could ever be needed. ]

I know I’m not perfect. I know I screw up sometimes. You’re still my brother. I’m still here.

[ He could’ve bailed when Damian crashed into him, but he didn’t. Tim made an allowance for Damian, like Dick would’ve wanted, even while claiming he doesn’t give him special treatment. He does. He should be allowed complain when turning the other cheek just gets that one slapped. ]

You want to tell me how I’m the problem so we can try to understand each other?

[ He’s not, but he wasn’t really with Jason either. It’s not Tim’s fault that Bruce keeps letting kids be Robins as a means to work on their issues. ]

( he's intending on walking away. to leave it there, to not snap, because that's just going to be proving tim's point even more, isn't it? and damian doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right. but damian stops, despite knowing it's a terrible idea. twists around so he's facing tim once more, hands balled into fists at his sides. )

I have been trying! ( it's loud; his voice loses that even tone he'd worked hard to keep. he's not angry, just - upset. ) I've been trying for years! Yet regardless of how hard I try, it never seems to matter to you! You've always, always treated me as lesser than you! As if you're just waiting for me to tip over the edge, regardless of how much effort I've put into trying to be better! Todd has targeted you numerous times yet you have forgiven him, but you still hold everything against me.

( arms swing out wide, palms forward. )

If I wanted to hurt you I could have multiple times over. Yet you've consistently treated me like I'm an enemy.

[ Tim knows Damian has been trying. Dick has told him, repeatedly. But the fact that Damian keeps up the constant low level abuse, no matter who’s there to witness statements about how I wish you had been murdered or how circumstances might mean it’s a bad time to risk breaking a shoulder… it’s so frustrating. Unlike people Tim has more patience for - god knows Bart has driven Tim up the walls and across the ceiling - the positives for Damian are… what, exactly? When he ignores Tim and Tim doesn’t even realize he’s making that effort? ]

Maybe I have more empathy for him because sometimes I see how he must feel! And sometimes we actually talk, which I know is something this family does as a last resort, but fuck you’d be surprised how far knowing you’re not alone gets you. I don’t know when you’re trying, I don’t know what you’re mad about, because whenever you talk to me, it’s this. How did I piss you off today, huh? By going first at your suggestion? By not brawling on the lawn?

[ He’s gesticulating here and there, but careful not to point or close the distance. Tim didn’t care to ask these questions - he thought he’d get only grief in response - but Damian is practically begging him to treat him better.

(Which is rich, because Damian talks to Tim like a serf.) ]

You’ve jumped on me twice today, unprovoked, and I’m still here. Why doesn’t that count for anything? What more do you want from me?

[ How the fuck is Tim the one treating Damian like an enemy, when Damian is the one attacking him. ]

What about how I feel?!

( he's yelling now, fists balled at his sides, leaning forward like he intends to come closer to drake but doesn't quite. )

I didn't want to get stuck here, I didn-- ( but he cuts himself off.

takes in a deep breath. )

If I wanted to hurt you, I would have.

( he's done. this is going to turn into a fight if they keep it up, which is just going to mean drake wins, and damian can't let that happen. so he's turning back around, and stomping off down the pathway he came. drake can follow him if he really wants to, but it's likely not a good idea. )

Damian, I -

[ Aaaaand he's leaving. Of course, he's leaving. Every single time Tim sees anything more than piss and vinegar in him, Damian has to 180 on him, and Tim is so tired.

What's the difference between Jason and Damian? Jason doesn't give Tim whiplash. Tim knows from go whether they're going to fight or talk, and, if it's talk, Jason doesn't threaten him on the way out the door.

Tim knows damn well that Damian could've prolonged either exchange and one or both of them would be hurting right now. (Physically. Looks like they're already hurting otherwise. It doesn't feel great to have these fights.) That's not the point, because Tim can protect himself better than he had. Can be more on guard than he was, but apparently that bothers Damian even as he complains that Tim won't let him live things down. (How is he supposed to be any less suspicious of Damian than he already is, when he's still (still!) shoving in that last violent word.

Forget him. Why does he bother - it's clear Damian wants to force Tim into the Enemy role and won't have it any other way. ]

I'd say finding you was pretty lucky.

( one thing you can count on clarke griffin for is piling on the sentimental endearments between bouts of going full feral or full warlord. this had been one of those moments, but almost immediately after the words exit her mouth she realizes the moment has passed and re-stitches her heart where the seams had split wide. there's residual bleed, in the various glances she'll keep casting octavia's way — like she can't believe the other girl is real, like she's scared every time she looks away she'd vanish — but she manages a smile only slightly tinged with self deprecation. )

But otherwise... not really.

( ... 💡💡💡 )

Do you want to help me rob someone?

[ Noelle isn't thinking about Luke. He's the easiest one to not think about, because he's the one Noelle has had the most practice with. After Cody, and, at times, herself, he was the one most ready for her to die. Which was fine. Once it started happening, Noelle told herself that he was really more of Krouse's friend, anyway.

Instead, Noelle's heart stutters when Krouse suggests that she give the rock skipping a shot. Instinct kicks in first, informing Noelle that she should deflect. Should turn him down, because he knows better, just like he knew that the compound would be good for her. Noelle is several feet tall than most people. She can't get low enough to skip a rock.

The moment passes. Krouse apologized for the cage. The cruelest thing Noelle could do now would be to walk back in it.

Noelle runs a tentacle over the pile, and once she finds one she likes, passes it up through various limbs in her lower half until it reaches a hand she was born with. She palms the rock, running her thumb against one of its sides, flexing her wrist back and forth to call upon some long-lost muscle memory.

There is a one hundred percent certainty that Noelle is going to absolutely whiff this. For once, she doesn't care. Noelle spreads out the limbs at her base, careful not to touch Krouse, but coming dangerously close. She arcs her spine forward, hunched as low as she can go. Her jaw is set, her eyes narrowed, and she's even chewing her bottom lip a little, all focused and intent, sizing up the field, like she used to get before games.

Noelle flicks her wrist. The rock sails in an abbreviated little arc, and then plops unceremoniously into the water. The spell of Noelle's concentration breaks, and she gives Krouse a halfhearted little shrug.

It doesn't feel bad. Noelle expected it to feel bad, and it doesn't, and that feels almost good. ]

It's all in the wrist. [ She makes the movement again, this time without the rock. ] Like this. But you need to be fairly parallel with the surface. You should be able to get at least one.

Of course it was— [octavia can't really dispute that and while she knows that clarke means that more on an emotional level, she acknowledges it in way that translates to agreement in her own way.

she pulls her hand back and from hearing the question, she realizes it is another bingo task] Rob someone? Yeah, alright. I think I saw something like that on my card too.

Perfect. Two birds, one stone, two points — or something.

( and maybe she just wants to tick off the challenges, despite the fact the prize at the end hasn't been thoroughly explained, just in case. but maybe, deep down, clarke also just itches for the opportunity to slot herself alongside octavia and for things to return how they used to be; working alongside each other, for better or for worse. wants to see if the ways she's grown in the absence of her friends makes her more amenable and complimentary, or less so. wants to know if she can fit back into the roles she filled out when they'd still be back on earth.

maybe she just missed her friend. and doesn't want to give the other girl the opportunity to split off from her, even if it's just to take a desperately needed shower. and so she invents a reason, and commits to it, already scanning the courtyard of the apartment buildings for a target. )

[ There's a stretch on the flexed limb closest to Krouse that's rough like scales or hide, with a sheen he realizes isn't dampness when it's this close. There are so many details about these parts of her he's never been able to look at long enough to see.

It's not that he's staring. Just an automatic glance as she gets closer, the way they eyes are drawn by any motion in the peripheral vision. He refocuses on the intent arc of her bending out towards the water, watching her teeth worry her lower lip. He remembers the shiny pinkness that would peek out between flaking dry skin during especially demanding games, little gnawed, vulnerable patches to commemorate her effort.

Images overlap like projector sheets. Then, later, now. He wants to hold as much of her in his head as he can, now that he can, greyscale fog pulled back from his brain. ]

It's the surface tension too, though, right?

[ He hangs his arms over his knees as he stays hunkered, turning over a rock shaped like the one she took for herself. ]

Or how the angle of the rock hits it? Whatever makes it bounce instead of sink. [ He pushes up to his feet with a little bounce of his own at the start. ] I'm just saying - environmental factors.

[ It doesn't sound like he's making an excuse for her. It's the thoughtful cadence of analysis, from those times when he'd come to her with ideas of varying levels of practical in-game application to vet them. The two of them against a problem, captain and hopeful lieutenant.

He mimics her throw, flicking his wrist as best as he can. He's got the confidence, but not the angle. It plunges into the river, and he shakes his head, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he tilts his head to glance up at her sidelong. ]

...I'm realizing it's possible we're just throwing rocks into industrial robot coolant runoff.

[ Krouse could stare if he wanted. He's already seen all of her: skin, bones, and muscles of bodies both human and monster. He's seen her at her lowest, her ugliest, and he isn't even afraid anymore. When Krouse looks at her this time, Noelle doesn't flinch. Instead, she carefully considers his question as it's offered: as a strategy among teammates. It's nice to be included again. ]

Probably. [ Noelle doesn't know much about the underlying physics. But she can analogize to boats, and the wings of planes, and other things that glide through fluids. ] We can't change the surface tension, though, so maybe try a different angle. Upwards, instead of flat horizontal.

[ Maybe that'll counteract gravity? Something like that.

Noelle watches Krouse give it a shot and miss. It's nice to know it's not just her messing this one up - nice enough that Noelle returns a smaller version of Krouse's smile.

Krouse probably didn't mean to get her thinking about their ill-fated bout with robot science. Noelle thinks about it anyway. About not getting to do what she wanted to do, about an apology that came too late. They're not supposed to go in the river because it might mean Noelle has to touch someone. But that didn't even feel bad. It was killing the clone that was hard.

Noelle sits with the idea for a while, watching the gentle flow of waves and any other stones Krouse chooses to skip. It's important that she makes sure this is what she really wants, before she says it out loud. There's a good bit of shame and guilt to sift through first. ]

Hey. [ Noelle says, at last, soft and a little rough. ] Can I ask you something kind of shitty?

Makes sense.

[ It sounds like it could make sense, at least, which is good enough.

He really is just throwing rocks into whatever this not-water is. As much as he tries to implement the concept of upwards in trajectory, he's not sure he's getting it.

It's the kind of repetitive failure he usually gets frustrated by fast, but this seems to be an exception, like all of this has been to a lot of things. Bend, pick, straighten, toss, plunk. After the first few, he experiments with throwing them farther, aiming at the centre of the river instead of the edge.

The sensation of wind skimming the back of his neck creeps up on him again. All the open space around them, a sky that looks like any sky overhead. No smell of cleaners or human bodies closed up together, endlessly recycling each other's air.

It occurs to him that Noelle must be feeling the same way about it, and that's a new ache in his chest that's not a wholly bad one. Nothing he'll say aloud, but something he can know. He was always looking for things they had in common.

When she speaks up again, he pauses at the top of a throw, lowering his arm as he shifts his attention back to her. The lingering sense of harmony informs his answer, but more than that, it's the lull of acceptance they've dropped into that makes him say, without worrying what the next question might be: ]

Yeah. Go ahead.

[ He throws his next rock barely looking, just to get it out of his hand, and half-startles when it bounces - once, twice, and that's it. He blinks after it, then laughs, quiet and surprised. ]

Lucky throw.

[ Noelle doesn't start talking before Krouse tosses the stone. It's always taken her longer to start speaking. There's gunk, somewhere between her brain and her throat, that stops up her words most of the time, and the ones that do make it through often come out all wrong. But it's less bad, now, with Krouse than it used to be. Maybe Noelle can let herself feel proud about that.

The stone skips. Krouse laughs. Noelle murmurs, quiet and genuine, like it's the easiest thing in the world. ]

Nice.

[ That's not something she says a lot, but she means it every time.

Noelle lets Krouse's victory linger for a little while, as warm as the sun on her skin. This sun isn't the kind that burns.

She can't leave Krouse hanging forever, especially now that she knows he'll wait as long as it takes. She still wants things to be fair, even though fairness, like hope or two legs, is something that was closed off to them a long time ago.

But maybe there's still something that isn't. ]

What if, [ Noelle starts, slowly, working up the confidence as she goes ] we just didn't kill them. The clones.

[ There's too much of a plea in her voice. Noelle pauses, regroups. When she speaks next, it's as a captain. ]

I mean - we know they listen to me. And it's not like either of us are trying to save the world.

[ It's not like either of them have that much time, before it all inevitably falls apart. If there's one thing Noelle knows how to expect, it's that. ]

[ Krouse could live inside the warm bubble of Noelle's nice. He would get almost sick over wanting it, in the early days, a pleasantly unpleasant lurch in his guts every time he'd do something he thought she might like and glanced at her to find out if he'd gotten it right. When he blew it, as he often did, it'd eat at him for days, but when he got it - he could walk on clouds.

However shitty the question she has for him is, it can't take away from this flickering moment. Even when it's this question.

But it does throw him, and it throws him because of what it implies. He stares up at her with his mouth half-parted for a second, then flushes, cheeks darkening more starkly than usually in his sun-starved complexion. He has to look away for his own privacy, this time around, studying the river like it's going to tell him how to answer that. He clasps his hands behind his back, feels stupid about doing it, doesn't stop. ]

I'm okay with that.

[ It shouldn't be so easy to agree, but it's a shouldn't he's pretty much moved past. If he cared that much about the damage the clones do, he'd have done things differently a long time ago. Besides - ]

I mean, it's not like there's much damage they can do anyway, if they don't listen.

[ They're not hiding anymore, on the run. They're not accountable to the capes that hold whatever city they're in. There's no one left on the team for the clones to fixate on, except the two of them, and Krouse is still thinking around the subject of who the clones will be. Like there's some outside possibility that Noelle could be talking about cloning anyone else, which only happens if -

He squeezes his hands together, his stupid heart tripping at the top of a flight of steep stairs. He should feel guilty twice over, for wanting anything, and for wanting it after he already let her kill one. He is guilty, a slimy coil twisting in his stomach. But guilt isn't enough to stop him from wanting. ]

[ There's still an out. Noelle can see the way through, a little sliver of possibility that she probably doesn't fit through. That was only the first question. She doesn't have to ask the follow-up.

Noelle looks away the second Krouse starts staring, so she doesn't see him break that gaze through her human eyes. Now they're both looking at a river they can't go in, like there's something on the other side they'll never be able to reach.

Or maybe that's now how Krouse feels. It'd be another question, if she were to ask, and there's only so much of those Noelle can dredge out of herself right now.

The river doesn't have any answers. Noelle looks back down at Krouse. He's so small, all the way down there. Smaller than he was before prison, the cage making him washed out and tired. It feels like she's stumbling in on something private, looking at him without that cloak of confidence he usually wears. How he can stand her looking at him, Noelle will never know.

A limb beside Krouse uncurls. This one is sort of like the leg of a chicken, except larger and scalier, its talons moving like human fingers.

Krouse used to do this at movies. Put his arm on the armrest, palm up if he was feeling brave, palm down if he didn't want to pressure her. Once in a while, on the good days, Noelle took it. ]

Okay.

[ She twists the limb, turns it palm side up. ]

[ That's not the limb he was expecting.

Part of that is him. There are people out there fascinated by Case 53s, even a furtive handful of people with a sick affinity for the Endbringers, but Krouse isn't one of them. He doesn't know for sure if Noelle ever came across them online, but it's hard to imagine that she didn't. He doesn't know how she felt about it; he knows he could only read so much before he tabbed away in a spurt of unexamined and complicated guilt.

Which is the other part of it. The part that's her, and how uncomfortable she was with herself long before anything happened. He had learned fast that mentioning anything about how she looked, ever, was a fraught minefield. It was like she preferred not to be reminded she had a body at all, especially not one other people could see. It was one of the first things that gave him an idea of what she was dealing with. So he adjusted, and it wasn't like she lacked other qualities to praise that he cared about more than how cute her nose was when she scrunched it in thought. Most of the time, he'd been able not to fuck it up.

Touch had been more complicated. There were so many sharp boundaries, the razor's edge of what was okay and what wasn't shifting at the influence of mostly unknowable factors. He'd still been figuring it out, before there was nothing left to figure out.

But the safest place had always been her hands, touched as gently as skittish wild animals. He'd thought about her hands a lot. Their little flinches, their awkwardness curled inside of his. The rare and perfect moments when something would click, and he'd feel her forget to not like knowing she had skin.

If her upper arms had been off-limits, and forget her waist, or hugging without enough insulating layers, how much more sensitive is this? A part of her not somehow imperfect in her mind, but glaringly mutated, every detail stark in the light?

She's asking him to touch her where it hurts, and he doesn't know how.

All of this goes through his mind in seconds, compressed to a sticky slideshow of regrets and fears. On the outside, he unclasps his hands, moving them without exactly knowing where they're going to go. He scrubs his palms on the legs of his jumpsuit to dry off half-imagined sweat, pulse thudding in freefall.

There's probably something he should say, but he can't think of what it is. He can only settle his fingertips on the scaled palm of her claws, a jolt of surprise arcing from them as soon as they make contact. He'd expected it to be cold and hard, but it's not. There's vivid warmth and slightly spongy give, the texture smooth on the caps of the scales and faintly rough at their overlaps.

He watches his fingertips slide over the bumps until they slot between her talons. He's seen this limb punch through a wooden door like styrofoam. She could wrench his arm out of its socket with one quick, clean clasp and pull, and he still doesn't feel like he's the one in danger. Carefully, gingerly, the way she taught him, he curls his fingers down to knit with hers. ]

Is that - ? [ His eyes flick up, wide and dark. ] Is that okay?

[ Noelle can't remember the last time she asked someone to touch her. The clones did it on their own, things made from her body that somehow knew its most secret desires. Whenever they held hands, or hugged, or even, on those deliberately rare occasions, kissed, it was usually Krouse who initiated.

She'd hugged him after their last match - the last one that they won. But that hadn't felt like she was asking for anything. That hug was something she'd earned, and so she hadn't felt disgusting receiving it.

It must have been when she was a kid, before she learned the secret of the world that everyone is supposed to pretend they don't know. The one that puts you in the hospital if you act on it too much, if you follow it to its logical conclusion.

But she's asking for it now. It's something Noelle never thought she'd miss, but there's another secret she learned, locked in bathroom stalls and warehouses and bunkers: when all you are is a body, not being touched is the loneliest thing in the world.

As Krouse unclasps his hands, Noelle gets ready, too, a process that occurs behind the locked door of a carefully neutral expression, inside her own brain. He wipes his hands on his jumpsuit, clearly as nervous as she is, and Noelle resolves not to flinch. He's frightened. (Of her.) It wouldn't be fair. (To him.)

He touches her palm. Noelle still flinches. The reflex courses through all her talons as they curl inwards, her stupid body once again blowing up all her problems to monstrous proportions. Loathing twists in her stomach, as reflexive as the flinch, because of course she's still too sick to get this right.

Still, she doesn't pull away. She leaves her talons slightly curled, and it's almost like holding hands. Like someone leading her up and out of the dark. ]

Yeah. [ Noelle rasps through a wet chunk of feeling stuck in her throat, meeting his dark eyes with glassy ones of her own. ] Sorry - I just - it's new.

[ But the longer they stay in it, the less frightening it is. There's a light at the end of that long, dark tunnel. If this place won't fix her, then nothing will, which means this is the best she's going to get. It might even be okay. There's soft, gentle warmth against something hideous and ugly, but it's all for her. It can't be that awful, if he's willing to touch it.

Maybe she isn't so terrible, either. ]

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cw: suicide mention

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cw: eating disorder, ableism, fetishization

cw: eating disorder, ableism