Anya Lehnsherr | Earth 97400 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fridgetothefire) wrote2013-05-29 08:31 pm
fridgetothefire) wrote2013-05-29 08:31 pm
Entry tags:
- alex is okay,
- alex will be last against the wall,
- alright fine alex is precious,
- batdad is the best bargedad,
- ben is her actual hero,
- do adopted bats still sleep upside down,
- dramatic yet unhelpful,
- good twins shouldn't be so badass,
- militant humanitarians,
- more daddy issues than anna freud,
- oh no,
- pietro is the adult here,
- roll call blues,
- she speaks le gasp,
- what doesn't kill you
015 ☣ Voice + Spam
[Private to Alex, Bruce, Ben, Cass, and Pietro.]
I'm going to be okay.
[Private to the above + Riddick, Felix, Cassel, Rhade, and Dean.]
Let me know if you made it. Please.
[Public, a day or two after.]
If anyone who got hurt is still laid up, in the infirmary or wherever else, and wants me to bring them some books from the library, I'd be happy to.
I can read to you too, if you want, although I can't make promises how long my voice will last.
[It's still a little bit hoarse from screaming, but Anya knows all about painful, boring recoveries. She imagines most people on the barge will have more company than she used to, but it can't hurt to offer.]
[Spam for Erik]
[After a night of deep, utterly dreamless post-adrenaline-crash sleep, Anya manages to drag herself into out of bed, because she can't stand the thought of more trail rations when she could get real breakfast. And there in the hall, just stepping out of his own room, is Erik. He's not her father, he never was and he never will be. But he's something like it, and he told her stories once, trying to protect her from the man who keeps haunting her all too literally. After a moment of staring, Anya flings herself at him and clings on tight.]
I'm going to be okay.
[Private to the above + Riddick, Felix, Cassel, Rhade, and Dean.]
Let me know if you made it. Please.
[Public, a day or two after.]
If anyone who got hurt is still laid up, in the infirmary or wherever else, and wants me to bring them some books from the library, I'd be happy to.
I can read to you too, if you want, although I can't make promises how long my voice will last.
[It's still a little bit hoarse from screaming, but Anya knows all about painful, boring recoveries. She imagines most people on the barge will have more company than she used to, but it can't hurt to offer.]
[Spam for Erik]
[After a night of deep, utterly dreamless post-adrenaline-crash sleep, Anya manages to drag herself into out of bed, because she can't stand the thought of more trail rations when she could get real breakfast. And there in the hall, just stepping out of his own room, is Erik. He's not her father, he never was and he never will be. But he's something like it, and he told her stories once, trying to protect her from the man who keeps haunting her all too literally. After a moment of staring, Anya flings herself at him and clings on tight.]
[spam]
He goes to set the plates down on the nearest table, and starts making a plate.]
Ask. [Better than ignoring it, which he did consider, for just a moment.]
[spam]
Where did you get this?
[spam]
[spam]
The thing in Silent Hill had this. Or something very like it.
[It's a plain comment, observational and unadorned. She unfolds, put it back where she found it on the desk, and joins him at the table.]
[spam]
Apparently it's something else I have in common across universes. [He doesn't sound particularly happy about that. Can't one thing - even one awful thing - be only his own?]
[spam]
My father didn't have one. He had the cape, though. I guess the nightmare was supposed to be a mix of Magneto aesthetics.
[If she's analytical about it, then she doesn't have to feel sad things, right? Right. BRB pouring syrup.]
[spam]
Perhaps. [He watches her pour, ignoring his own pancakes for the moment. It's very strange, and his eyes flick toward the helmet again before settling on her.]
It's a reminder.
[spam]
[It's not a challenge, exactly. She understands the impulse. But there are a lot of possible lessons to take from Shaw's death.]
[spam]
It reminds me not to be like him. [Not to become him.]
[spam]
Someone gave me my father's cape for Christmas. I still have it.
[spam]
[spam]
It means I won.
[spam]
That you won, or he lost?
[spam]
It means I won. It means an ant can kill a god.
...it means I'm safe.
[Some of these things are lies, and some are true. But the cape is all of them.]
[spam]
You're not an ant. And he wasn't a god.
[spam]
I am, on occasion, hyperbolic.
[Nom nom pancakes.]
[spam]
Does having it still make you feel better?
[spam]
And I like ants. They're a good metaphor.
[spam]
[spam]
Easy to kill, impossible to wipe out.
[spam]
[spam]
Well, how lucky for you.
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