[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
The travelers passed through the hole in reality that married Asgard to Midgard. Tora felt a strange sensation as she passed through the gate. It felt beneficent, and powerful, the blessing of a god rewarding her for defeating Loki.

When she stood on the other side of the gate, she looked back into the icy realm of Asgard, and knew that some day, that would be her realm. Today, however, was not that day.

Tears were falling down Fire’s face as she walked into the real world behind her friend. She held onto Tora’s hand, squeezing it fiercely, unwilling to let go for a moment.

Merlynne also felt a tingle as she walked through, a mysterious energy that was part approval and part.. something else. And then, the gate was gone.

And, as usual, no one could tell what Guy was thinking as he walked back into his bar, which was deserted at this time of day. The heroes had no idea how long they’d been gone, but it was very obvious that the sun was rising and shining into the bar’s windows, promising a new day.
[identity profile] lord-mordru.livejournal.com
The younger Mordru returns to the Rock of Eternity - greeting his elder counterpart with a curt nod.

"Constantine will do as we require. We can use Nimue Ravensong as the substitute. Have you made the preparations?"

His older incarnation nods in confirmation, and speaks. "I foresee that we will also require an extra pawn, amongst the heroes. I have selected an agent that we can pull from the threads of time. His.. condition will necessitate placing him where he has access to someone with vast scientific acumen."

Both men moves towards the slumped, chained figure of Billy Batson - raising their hands, allowing the electrified power of Shazam to course through them, in unison.

"This will not go unnoticed, you realize."

"I would be a fool to assume otherwise."

Acting as one, the twin selves of the Chaos Sorcerer plunge their hands into the raw essence of time itself - and pull.
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
The cave was enormous.

The three unconscious heroes are dragged unceremoniously through winding tunnels, some barely tall enough to let the dwarves pass through. They don’t see the beautiful, jagged jewels that jut out of walls at different angles. The dwarves are careful not to scratch themselves or their precious cargo as they wind down, deeper and deeper, into the dark.

As the three gain consciousness, they are greeted by unpleasant snickering. There is a throne of gold, and on it a giant of a man. Despite his size, this giant man is almost delicate in appearance. He has high cheekbones, and hair the color of snow. His eyes are so light blue as to almost be white as well. He has blood red lips, which give him an almost clownish appearance, but his smile is not warm, nor is it welcoming.

Beside him, lying on a golden chaise lounge and dressed in diaphanous silk, is Ice. Her white hair is up in a complex and beautiful plait, studded with diamonds and sapphires. She is wearing a golden torque around her neck. A delicate chain leads from the back of the torque to a band on the giant’s wrist. She looks more beautiful and regal than she ever has before.

Fire cries out, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stares at the beautiful woman, her best friend. Ice is unmoved by their appearance. There is no recognition in her blue eyes.

Guy might be overwhelmed by the situation, but he is with it enough to notice that he still has his ring on his person.

Merlynne wakes up to her wrists being tied behind her back, with her back to Guy and Fire. The three are in a outward facing triangle, and she has to crane her neck to see what the other two are seeing. When she does, she realizes who they are captives of.

[identity profile] flame-of-green.livejournal.com
The three heroes could all feel it.  That sense of being watched.  Despite the fact that the terrain was barren, there was no shaking it.  It put them all on edge, turning to catch the slightest movement at the corner of their eye, be it leaf or bird.

 “We can’t stop here,” Fire said after a minute.  “It’s not safe.”

 Before the other two could respond, dwarves rose seemingly from the ground itself.  They were heavy-set men, with thick woolly beards ranging in all colors, from yellow blonde to coal black.  The men were dressed in thick furs, bronze armor, and all held some form of weapon, be it ax or short bow or hammer.

 Fire turned to flame and rose from the ground, getting the edge on their foes.

[identity profile] flame-of-green.livejournal.com
It had taken surprisingly little time for the heroes to come to an accord and decide to go into the breach.  Fire flew home as fast as she could, to get clothing a little more suitable for rescuing people than pajamas.  She shuddered at the frost that was still coiled around her full length mirror, with its icy message.

It wasn't long before Fire was back at Guy's bar, ready to go. 

"Time to do your thing, Merlynne," she said, encouraging her new friend to magic them up.
[identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
She was back at the farm. In the growing dawn, she'd put the car in park and stared nebulously at the sight that surrounded her. It wasn't that the house was gone, or that the barn was gone. No. She'd resigned herself to this property's fate long before the Monster Society blew it all sky-high. It was the stillness that lay across the property, the emptiness, echoing back at her as though through a long tunnel. The whole feel of the place mirrored the fate of her host family.

She'd spent her life-- unconsciously, to a point-- trying to put those pieces back together. Sure, there was new family now, people who didn't batter her, or talk down to her, or treat her like a thing to be possessed. Somehow, though, she'd always waited, hoping, that the old order would come back. Someday, it'd be shiny and new again, and no one would know the difference.

Heh. )
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
There is a place beyond Reality.

Desire walks the corridors of her own empty shell, approaching his empty heart. For Desire is not the filling of the heart, but the hollow ache within it.

Some people see today as a time for lovers to come together. Others see today as just another day. And others see it as a time to yearn for what they lack. As couples move through the world before them, many of those without a partner Desire someone to share their lives with.

Desire was there when the first Valentine was imprisoned, marrying young couples in secret despite the Emperor’s decree – after all, single men make better soldiers than married men. And Desire fuels a need for an army. And Desire draws young couples together.

Desire was there when the Christian church absorbed the fertility rites of Luperci into a Christian celebration of love. St. Valentine’s Day is much more chaste than Luperci ever was – and chastity feeds Desire.

He is there today, of course. Looking out on the worlds, to taste herself in hidden empty hearts.

He is everywhere there is Desire. And she smiles.
[identity profile] flame-of-green.livejournal.com
Fire was singing a lullabye under her breath. She was folding what was left of her laundry pile with a vengeance, trying to get everything ready for tomorrow. A sunrise shoot, always the hardest on her. There was no way to win. She could stay up all night and go to the shoot tired as hell, or she could get some sleep and go to the shoot tired as hell.

At least I have a shoot. Mari's been making sure of that. Fire smiled. She loved her boss, she loved her job.. things had been going her way for a while now. Hard to believe that she'd been homeless six months ago. Now she was back in touch with beloved friends, she had a career, and even time to do some superheroing when the need arose.

Finally she shoved the last few items off of her bed and stuck out her tongue. "I don't care if you wrinkle," she said. "Better you than me."

Pulling the covers over her head, Fire snugged down into her pillow. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.


An image slowly becomes clear, as if emerging from a fog.

Her visions circles around until a small bright spot of light comes into view. It's a campfire, and next to it is curled a woman bundled in furs. She is staring at the fire, and starts in shock as it flares to green for a moment, and then back to a brilliant orange.

where are you

A whisper cuts the image into shreds, which then reforms into a brilliant white snowscape. Her vision focuses in on a speck of black that quickly grows into a chaotic scene. Two wolves bite and snap at each other, one gray, one black.  The same woman is fighting off an oversized black wolf that has grabbed hold of her leg. There is a second figure, a man holding off a second black wolf with a spear, while another wolf circles behind to cut him off. A knife flashes down and the wolf lets go of her with a yelp, giving the woman a chance to pull a spear off of the sled and toss it at a circling wolf, pinning it to the ground.

I can't find you

Another whispered phrase pulls Bea to the ground.  There is a wide open field of snow, and the pair again. A soft wind stirs up a twist of ice crystals around them and a gray wolf as they pull the hide-covered sled behind them. Few words are exchanged between the two, and as Bea is pulled suddenly up into the crisp air, the woman turns suddenly and looks directly at her -- blue eyes meeting hers, but without recognition.

why can't I see you

The whisper is abruptly drowned out by a howling wind that brings darkness and hissing snow. Ahead of her is the woman, alone this time, struggling against the wind towards something that Bea cannot see. Out of the darkness comes her companion to support and lead her towards a cave mouth; they quickly disappear within.

help me

The images move faster -- the woman, head uncovered, moving down a rough-hewn rock pathway and emerging into a cavern, where there is a torc clasped between a stalagmite and a stalagtite. She reaches out to take the torc and places it around her neck; a moment later she presses her fingertips to her temples as if in pain. A new, horrible sound behind her, and she whirls around, eyes wide. A laughing giant holds her companion limp in one hand. She cries out, and the sound seems to reach deep into Bea's mind and brings with it a sense of fear, anger, and pain.

each syllable brings with it memories.
images rush by, flipping like pages in a book.
It ends on an image of a familiar pair of blue eyes looking desperately into Bea's.

Fire sits up in bed, the words echoing in her mind. As she lets out a breath she was not aware of holding, suddenly she realizes -- it's
cold. Cold enough for that breath to hang in the air for a moment before dissipating. Her eyes adjust to the darkness and begin to make out shapes -- ice covers every inch of every surface in the room.  Icicles hang from lamps and curtains, which rustle briefly in a soft sharp wind. The windows have iced over, creating a sparkling pattern of stars and points. Her blanket is stiff with frost.

She reaches over with a shaking hand to turn on the bedside lamp, and in the resulting bloom of light the full length mirror on her bedroom wall becomes visible, clear of frost for only a moment. A moment later ice begins to crawl across it, splintering into many-pointed shapes as it does. Two words become visible as the mirror is covered:


Oh meu deus!"  Fire cries out.  "She's alive!"
[identity profile] ibn-al-xuff.livejournal.com
The ritual to heal Amelia is progressing.

Ibn carefully monitor's their vital signs and then flinches. Something isn't right. He speaks, only with great difficulty. "I believe there may be an external contamination. Some sort of attack."
[identity profile] laughing-mage.livejournal.com
One favor down, a couple to go. He thinks he has a line on the second one and something tells him the third is being taken care of. But that won't solve everything that needs to be taken care of. Just because he'll have put Papa Midnight and Zee back on equal terms it won't get the Bokor out of the way permanently.

His immortality made that a problem. But it may just be he has a line on how to take care of this one.

Which is why he ends up travelling to find a certain someone he'd helped get into Hell.
[identity profile] ibn-al-xuff.livejournal.com
It is difficult to spiritually cleanse a room where so many souls have passed through; some have suffered before passing the veil. He pours the fresh water into his silver bowl and mixes the salt until it becomes diluted and the water clears. This is not ordinary table salt. It was mined in a very sacred place in India. It will soak in the negative energies of the area.

There are two beds. Ms. Zukov is resting in her bed. The other one is for her brother.

"I have developed an elixir with the help of Ms. Strong that I believe will alleviate Ms. Zukov's condition. It will force the two of you into an accelerated cycle of healing. This elixir shall create a mental bridge between the two of you. As you are siblings and have similar bio-rhythmus, you will help moderate each other. You will adapt to each other’s energies. This will allow Ms. Zukov to tune her energies into less self destructive cycles, but it will for a short time cause added stress to Mr. Zukov. However, I believe you will quickly even each other out.”

Ibn pauses for a moment, checking vitals. “There is a possibility that this bridge will cause a sharing of memories or dreams. It is merely a side-effect and should cause no danger unless the two of you fight it. Are there any questions?”
[identity profile] sand-hawkins.livejournal.com
...to be with the one you love."   So the lyric goes.

Doesn't hurt if it's Christmas Eve either.

Last year, Jerry Lee's closed its doors on Christmas Eve at around 2 PM...there wasn't much of a dinner crowd normally.

This year, they're open for a private party.  Both rooms. full band, full kitchen service, including soda jerk.  Only thing closed are the bars.   Guests want to tie one on, they can do it after they leave - no sense making Chimp and Corrine feel uncomfortable.

This was a time to celebrate.  The entire D'aubigne family's been brought to justice. Travis is safe and healing.  Everyone's back in the same dimension and timespace for the first time in months.

And Sand was bound and determined to celebrate it.  With his extended family and friends.

Civvies preferred, although if people felt they needed to or had to be in costume, keep it low key - Sand told the establishment that a couple of metas were in his circle of friends.  The owner had this odd smirk about him when he said that, but he didn't press.

He was the first person there, going over the menu and the music selection.  The 40's swing was as good as ever - the 50's room, by request, had a killer rock/blues band that also did some 60's. 

Now all he needed were some guests...
[identity profile] blind-will.livejournal.com
He wakes up, sort of, to the sounds he always hears. The screams, the promises that 'he don't mean it, he's just drunk' are quickly drowned out by the sounds from below. The sounds of the ghettoes. Traffic, people, shouts.
Unlike usual though, for some reason, he doesn't start awake. Then he realizes... its the music, 60's blues rising from one of the apartments down below him.

'Mothers, tell your children,
Not to do as I have done.
Spend your lives in sin and misery,
In the house of the Rising Sun.'

'I've got one foot on the platform,
One foot on the train,
I'm going back to New Orleans,
To wear that ball and chain.'

He smiles, before coughing. Blood.
That's ok. It reminds him of the music Tara used to play, when he could sleep. When he could wake up and feel invulnerable, because she believed he could do anything... in the morning.
Not feeling up to using the ring to rise in his usual fashion, he puts his hand down to help push himself up, and it slips, sending him back to lying down, slightly propped by a chimney.

A few moments of confusion, and he realizes its blood. His own. His jacket is still full of holes - tatters by now mostly. Somehow the ring isn't covering him in his 'costume' anymore. No more black leathers, just some old, comfortable things.
Then he realizes that almost everything he's getting is through sound and touch. The ring has plenty of charge left... its only been a couple hours, but its using everything it can to try and keep him stapled together.

And he smiles again. Its cold up here... a lot colder than he remembers space being. Thinking back, he realizes that his gambit against Sur was only half bluffing. The ring, without anywhere to go, just gives him the power to tilt at windmills. Things haven't gotten better. No matter how hard he's fought, the next time he goes out, everything looks and sounds the same.

And if he no longer keeps fighting with all his will... the real power for the ring, maybe it will be one less poor kid, and maybe then he can sleep.
[identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
Corrine is buried in a pile of non-sense.

Well, it might as well be non-sense, for all the useful information she's getting. This effort has multiple goals, none of which she's any closer to reaching. Actually, the more she reads and takes in, the less she understands.

She curses her family for the fourth time today. Everything from the incident in June is here, right at her fingertips, and yet nothing is jumping out at her. Somewhere in here, there's a clue to where her younger brother is, or even more specifically, how they did what they did to him. And if the entity was supposed to give her insight, It's dragging its feet now.

Anytime now... she thinks, waiting a few seconds. Nothing.

Quietly... a chuckle.

Well screw you very much, too.
[identity profile] onthecase.livejournal.com
The Chimp has finished the investigation he did for his own benefit. And now he needs to share the results. He's asked the Outsiders to come for a meeting.

He looks at the assembled heroes. "We can get started," he states. "Tara's already seen this." He slides a few photos and photocopies of records across the table for others to look at.

"When I was in rehab, there was something that I kept going back to. It didn't make much sense. Travis was usually pretty calm and on top of it, but then, in the matter of a few seconds, he lashed out at me, dumped his girlfriend, and quit the team. It doesn't add up to what we've seen of him.

"So I took a case from myself. I wanted to find out what caused this abrupt reaction. Started looking into his background, because... it looked like I'd hit a button." He gestures to the photos and records. "I was right. I just didn't realize how big of one."


Dec. 5th, 2007 01:29 am
[identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
A hot bath is exactly what Corrine needed. After soaking to prunish-feel with a good book, she's wiping condensation from the mirror to comb out her hair. It's been quiet recently. Quiet is good. It's given her a lot of time to focus on herself, which is nice, and get some research done on things that still don't make sense.

Mmm. Right now, she's actually thinking about just slipping into her pajamas and flopping down in front of a good movie. There's hot chocolate to be had and she has a bag of mini-marshmallows stashed away. Yeah... that sounds perfect.

There's another sound, an actual one. She closes the cabinet mirror, then turns to make sure she's actually seeing what she thinks. It's like a super-awesome shiny disco-ball.

Yeah. Definitely report this, pron--
[identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
Corrine's been jittering for three hours now. She got up this morning with today's goal in mind, but it wasn't until a few hours ago that the giddy-stupid set in.

When did this happen again? Her initial effort had been to turn the TV off, leave the couch for the first time in two days, and go see Sand. Every time she went for the door something in the mirror stopped her. Those three hours are now behind, and she still hasn't figured out what to wear... or do with her hair, or anything, really.

Crap. She sucks at this.

She's going as she is and that's final! The little nag in her head shuts up.

Okay. She can do this. All the way to his door, and even knocking. She laughs at herself because the thought at the last second is she should've worn a different shirt.
[identity profile] hotshot1280.livejournal.com
Trevor stands at the plate, bat cocked back as another load of balls is fed into the pitching machine. A second later he's swinging, everything forgotten but the ball and his bat. The monotony of the machine in its pitching barely gives Trevor time to think of the last days and weeks between swings, which is precisely why he's here. No one on the Outsiders knows of this as one of Trevor's hangouts, even Caleb, which also makes it a perfect place to take some aggression out on harmless baseballs.
[identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
Corrine has spent a lot of her time since she's been back in seclusion. She's talked to Sand and Tara so far, but for the most part she's staying in her room.

There's equal parts of reading, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, and crying. The reading she's done has been the best part of her depression. It's given her time to think, and time to go somewhere else for a bit. Movies and TV have too much going on for her focus at the moment. Hours into some new releases she's missed, she gives up the reading to go walking. The stack will wait.

Her feet wander her aimlessly about the base. She goes in a different direction when close to encountering someone. There's a glassy look to her eyes as she passes a reflection. She isn't fit to be interacting with people yet. The thing tied with her now talks on almost endlessly, and it's heavily distracting.

There's miles of beach to cover it with. It still feels weird at this time of year that it isn't freezing, but Corrine's got to remember where she is. That's a harder thing to do than say right now.

She ditches her shoes finally, probably to come back to later if she remembers it. Halfway around the island, she wades out hip-deep in the water. She ties her hair up messily. It feels slightly colder when she gets out, shorts and tee sopping wet. Without a change in expression, she continues her trek down the beach.
[identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
It would be an exaggeration to say Corrine is eating everything in the Outsider's kitchen. To be truly precise, it would be better to say she is eating at least one of everything in the Outsider's kitchen.

Okay, so she's hit the coffee pot like four times now. Coffee doesn't really count, though, because they keep ten tons of the crap around 'lest Trevor should one day run out. Little things like that haven't changed. Someone is still buying Swiss Miss pudding cups, Gatorade and fresh veggies regularly.

Corrine's sampled every one of Tara's dishes, and paired every kind of fresh veggie with dip or peanut butter; and syrup once, just to try. The ice cream, the sherbet, and the pudding cups all got tried, one spoonful for each. Someone also lost a spoonful of Cherry Garcia, and Corrine had passingly chuckled about the thought of leaving a post-it note of apology inside. It occurred to her about then that she was not thinking that out so much, as missing a spoonful of your ice cream is far better than having a blue sticky note in it.

A look in an as-yet untouched cabinet brings her to glass bottles of Stewart's root beer and a box of Tootsie Rolls. She grabs three bottles and a handful of chocolates and makes her way back to the cluttered table.


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