"I am truly blessed, and thus do not need trinkets to make me happy. As for Jusker, I would suggest perhaps some clothing? People from Midgard do seem to be rather...taken with it."
Wingblade hangs upside-down from a rafter during the stakeout, trying to stave off boredom. She grabs a hold of the hem of her tank top to keep it from falling while she thinks. "Jusker? Hmm. Maybe you could give him a real hero name? Honestly, booze would probably be the best thing you could get him at this age. And who's going to complain? Skuld's culture is probably completely in favor of fighters drinking it up; I can't get drunk; and Apex probably won't approve of anything you get. Probably the best you're not buying for him, huh? And Bran? Well, he's also a Warrior of Old, so I can't think of him disapproving either."
A bit of a smile grows on her face. "Well, much."
"Yeah... but it's so pretty, and it smells so good! And come on. You're telling me you don't want to figure out how to keep an orchid alive through a novice gardener?"
Mary-Beth's dimples deepened, "Okay, you've got me there."
She pulled a couple heavy books from the shelf, and started quickly paging through them, familiarity meaning that she quickly found the sections she was seeking. "So let's see, too much moisture in the wrong places will kill it, and too much sun will kill it. What a wonderful flower to take care of. I'm getting good at symbols of aversion, so maybe just carve those into the stem?"
Bronwyn nodded gingerly, but her face looked troubled, "I know that would be the strongest stuff that would be at all safe to use, but... I'm worried that if we turn sun and water away from the plant too strongly it will just die. Let's just go with a charm of endurance." She pointed to a spiral whose line thinned and thickened on the page, "It's fine if things happen to the flower, we just need it to bounce back."
A flash of annoyance rushed across Mary-Beth's face before she replied, "Bron, that charm's not compatible with living things. You can't just throw around stuff like this without doing the reading."
"But we could enchant the flower pot with it, right?"
"...Yeah. Good point."
Ugh. She hates it when she's wrong about something she actually cares about. I should have circled at that instead.
Bronwyn reached out to squeeze her friend's shoulder. "Sorry I'm being all pushy. I just... This gift matters, you know?"
Mary-Beth rolled her eyes, but her blank expression cracked into a smile, "You are the biggest squishiest softy, you know that right? If your villains ever saw you worrying about a flowerpot they would never take you seriously as a threat again."
Bronwyn grinned back, "So don't tell any villains."
"My parents always make a big deal of promising that they're not going to get each other anything every year, but I still remember the one year Mom took Papá seriously - he was hurt and she felt terrible, but like, the worst part was that they were both really surprised? Anyways, not a merry Christmas moment. Agh, sorry, rambling. All I mean is: You really really don't have to get me a present, but either way, you're getting one." She said the last with a strong note of finality, clearly hoping to prevent any disagreement.
Shayera nods, happy that she could help. Her eyebrow arches when Bronwyn says she got her a present, but stays quiet while her friend over-explains her reasons why she doesn't expect something from Shayera.
A smile touches her face. "It's okay. I've got something for you, too. Unless you don't want it..? I mean, it's not too late to give it back, or give it to someone else? She wasn't being serious, and her voice was playful enough that she hoped that Bronwyn would get the joke. She holds up her hands in a helpless gesture, then turns to walk away.
Shayera loses her attempt at keeping a straight face and her smile breaks through to the point her face almost hurts. "Yeah... I think you'll like it. But it's not a competition! I don't want you feeling bad when my present blows yours away." She laughs infectiously and dances away to avoid any retribution -- verbal or physical.
A few nights later (but still a few days before Christmas), Bronwyn gets a knock on her bedroom window.
Shayera?
She slid out from under her covers, tugging her sleepshirt down to a more presentable length. Walking over to her window, she opened it up,
If this is another scary-sexy vampire dream, I'm just leaning into it...
"Hi! What brings you by?"
"Hey! It's present time!" Shayera says as she grabs a hold of the sill with one hand and pulls herself in.
"Wow, look at you, in bed at 10:30!" she comments as she gives Bronwyn a large silver box wrapped with an ornate bow. Here, open it now, since we don't have that much time."
There's a strange level of urgency in Shayera as she watches Bronwyn untie the bow and open the box, revealing a bright red winter coat.
Giving Bronwyn a Cheshire's grin, Shayera stays right by the window, not closing it. "I hope you like it, now, come on! Try it on! We need to go!"
Bronwyn shook out her gorgeous new coat and belted it on over her oversized tee. "Okay, okay, I'm getting ready. But, uh, ready for what? If we're leaving the house I need some pants!"
"No you don't!" Shayera says as she grabs her hand and pulls her to the window. "No time for pants, we're going now!"
In a deft move, the winged hero slips a couple straps around Bronwyn to keep her close and tight. She pushes her out of her window and as soon as they're clear her wings beat hard and fast to keep them from crashing to the ground below.
They zoom into the sky, the clear cold air biting any exposed skin. Shayera keeps them flying straight and, as soon as she reaches her desired altitude, level. She angles her flight direction only slightly as the pair leave Northside and bear west.
"You okay? Not too cold are you?" she checks, making sure the winter coat is doing its job. Shayera isn't wearing as much, but she doesn't appear to be bothered by the near-freezing temperatures as she picks up speed and skims along the rooftops.
After a several minutes of chilly flight, a bunch of multi-colored lights draw their attention. There appears to be some sort of concert in an open-air venue.
Shayera slows up as she reaches the amphitheater, circles it once, then flits down to land on the large outdoor panels stretching across the crowd. On the roof is a blanket already laid out, with a couple of thermoses and pillows, giving an aerial view of the orchestra just about to start a holiday selection of music.
Shayera steadies Bronwyn once she's on her feet, still a dizzying height above the ground and stage, and coaxes her to sit down on the blanket. She sits down next to her and unscrews one of the thermoses, causing the aroma of hot chocolate to hit Bronwyn's nose.
"I've always like sitting here and listening to the Halcyon Conservatory Orchestra," she explains. "And tonight is their last performance of the Christmas season."
She holds up the pendant with a grin, then pulls it over her head and draws her hair out from under the chain. With her wings glamoured away, Shayera scoots closer to Bronwyn and opens her own thermos of hot chocolate. She clunks her cup to Bronwyns and proceeds to snuggle close, leaning against her and sharing body heat.
The orchestra begins, playing a selection of Christmas classics. Shayera leans her head against Bronwyn's shoulder, and murmurs, "Merry Christmas."
...Eventually.
Plus, how bad could it be if she got to fly! I'm never going to get sick of flying with her... Not in a million years.
As they circled the glowing amphitheater, Bronwyn squeezed Shayera's hand, knowing words would be stolen by the rush of wind. Once they landed, she gratefully folded the blanket over her legs and snuggled up to listen.
"It's so beautiful...
Merry Christmas, Shayera. Thank you for sharing this with me. I love it."
"Okay, so, you know I wasn't expecting to do this here, so don't blame me for the improvisational part of this, okay?"
She fished her phone out of the thankfully secure inner pocket of her new coat, and started to bring up photos, photos of people Shayera hadn't seen in too long:
Vick, Nora, Kenneth (the other one), Ty and Tycho, Imagine and Atoms, and of course, Shayera with her old wings. The pictures showed them in and out of hero-mode, mostly hanging out back in Wingblade's tower. Some of them though were newer, Ty in scrubs and a white coat, Nora with her new team, Vick with his mom; happy photos of what the rest of her old friends were up to.
"So it took a while to track people down. I mean, I really only knew Vick already, and I tried to do it without forcing anyone to tell me their real names or anything, but when I told them who the pictures were for, it was really easy to get my message passed along.
"So you're getting all of these, but I printed and framed a bunch of the best ones for you too. They're still back at my house, so you have to be a little patient, but... yeah." She smiled self consciously, "Well? Do you like it?"
Shayera swipes through the photos on Bronwyn's phone and gets nostalgic for a while. She smiles at her. "I love it. I can't wait to see them all together in a frame. I'm sure it'll be great."
She pauses at a picture of her and Tectonic strapped together by a pair of high-tech handcuffs. "OMG, someone actually took a picture of that," she says with a laugh. She grins when she finds their first group picture. "That was when we first came together. Blew up a lab real good. Oops."
Shayera relays a few more anecdotes as she reviews the photos Bronwyn manages to collect. Then one makes her pause.
Her thumb hovers over a picture of Imagine getting sprayed by a shaken-up can of soda, Hashtag laughing furiously and the rest of the team looking amused. Except for Wingblade. She had an expression of alarm, as if the exploding can of soda had set of her fight reaction.
Shayera frowns. "I'm so... different now. Is that good? I'm acting like I never killed those people. But I did. I mean, maybe in a different body, but I remember it. I've killed, Bronwyn. How can you be okay with that?"
"I'm not okay with any part of it.
"Shayera, what you did was wrong, even if it's not right to blame you, it was wrong; but what they did to you, experimenting on you, torturing you, warping you until their orders made sense?! It's beyond monstrous. But it's not you anymore.
"You are different. God, or Whippoorwill, or whoever gave you a chance and you took it, and you've made so much of it. If you had just gotten out of there and turned away from those monsters and their lies, that would have taken more goodness and strength than most people have.
Instead you help people. You save us. More than that, you're building a life, a real life for yourself. I hope, I really do, that you don't think about the crimes they made you commit, not every day, not even every week. I don't for a moment believe you've really forgotten where you began or that those scars will ever do more than fade, but you don't have to live in those memories. It's good that you're growing past them.
"You're amazing. You deserve the happiness you find."
Shayera gives Bronwyn a look of mortal anguish. "You say that. But I should have known it was wrong. It's so obvious. Isn't it wrong to just follow orders? But that's what I did. Twenty-three lives. Eleven targets and twelve who were in the way."
She shrinks from Bronwyn. "I should have let you know. I'm sorry. You deserve to know what kind of person I am. I didn't stop them from using me to do their killing. It was all I knew to do. It was easy. But I should have known it was wrong!" Shayera draws her knees up to her chest and buries her face in her arms.
"Your mistakes were because you didn't have the chances you should have. I mean, I was raised by parents who love me and taught me to do good, and I still spend hours every week wrestling with stuff like this, trying to keep myself from making the same mistakes over and over. Every system of laws ever written says not to murder each other. The idea that people deserve to live is so important, it's fundamental to how we all coexist, but I'm willing to be that Whippoorwill was the first person ever to tell you that hurting people is wrong. We aren't born knowing to do good."
Bronwyn shifted to sit behind Shayera, stroking her hair as she continued.
"I know how much killing them still hurts you; I know you would never do that again. Shayera, I know that I don't know everything about who you were, but I do know who you are. You are not their weapon anymore. You're a hero... you're my hero. It's not my place to forgive you, but I hope you know how much I trust you."
Shayera's eyes close as she focuses on Bronwyn's words of encouragement and the gentle stroking of her hair. Though parts of her wanted to pull away and wallow in her self-loathing, forever convinced that she neither needed nor deserved absolution, she stayed still and allowed herself to be comforted. Bronwyn's fingers draw through her straight, wind-tangled hair causing little shivers of pleasure to run up and down her spine. Shayera leans back, not sure how her glamoured necklace displaces her cold metallic wings away so she can snuggle close and let her be held in such a way, but eminently grateful for it.
As the orchestra strikes up again, playing music inspired by the birth of a savior over two thousand years ago, she twists her torso back so she can reach around her and nuzzle Bronwyn's neck. "I don't know why you love me," she whispers into her ear. "It scares me sometimes. But it makes me want to be everything for you. Whatever you want. I'll tell you every detail of every kill if you want to know. Or I'll push them as far from my mind as I can if you ask."
The music swells, and Shayera's lips purse, hoping to find Bronwyn's mouth for a kiss.
Shayera's lips were as soft as she remembered. At first, all Bronwyn did was enjoy that feeling, but as she kept kissing Shayera, her kisses gradually became deeper until... **whew** She pulled back for a moment, slightly glassy-eyed, "You got...wow better. But umm, I feel weird making out at a Christmas concert." Also, if I'm going to make good decisions when we're kissing, I really, really need to be wearing pants.
Reluctantly, she let go of the fistful she'd gotten of the bottom of Shayera's top. She took a deep breath, lips compressed together til she mustered up a sheepish smile, "Sorry... What I want most right now is to finish the concert with you, and for you to know that you can tell me as much of your past as you want. I don't need the details for me, but I want to listen to whatever you need to tell me. There's a middle way between denial and letting it all engulf you. That's the path I want to walk with you." She chewed at her lower lip, "Don't think I'm not hoping for a goodnight kiss later though..."
Shayera's eyelids flutter partially closed during the long kiss, letting her catch a blurry vision of Bronwyn through her eyelashes. The bit of cold on their lips and noses quickly heat up as their mouths make contact, a slow tenuous contact gradually building in confidence. Shayera's neck and torso was twisted awkwardly in order to effect the kiss, but she ignores the slight discomfort as she focuses on the sensation of her lips on Bronwyn's.
It was nice -- well, more than nice, the little movements their mouths were making, the breath they were sharing -- and Shayera could sense the quickening of Bronwyn's pulse, the rise in her temperature. Her own heart began beating faster, but borne of a sudden anxiety. Was she feeling the same way? What was it supposed to feel like?
She didn't come to a conclusion before Bronwyn broke off the kiss. She was complimentary, causing Shayera to flush a bit but not quite enough to ease her anxiety. She turns quickly away from her, listening partly to Bronwyn and partly to the inspirational music being performed below.
Somehow, telling Bronwyn about the twenty-three lives she took and the three lives she failed to save seemed easier to her to confess than the fact that she still couldn't be certain that she was gay. Or even a sexual being at all. Perhaps she wasn't even capable of being aroused. She shivers, and she hopes Bronwyn thinks it's just the cold.
She snuggles closer, falling quiet while the music plays.
The concert finally concludes and the applause of the crowd beneath them erupts. Shayera helps Bronwyn up, drawing her close for an awkward kiss before turning her around and clipping the harness around her for the flight back to her house. "I'll... I'll get the blanket and thermoses later," she explains unnecessarily before launching them back into the air.
It felt colder on their flight back to Bronwyn's home. Shayera tries to balance the flight between increasing the speed to make it uncomfortable for a shorter duration and for making it colder with the higher winds.
Ultimately, they make it home before any frostbite sets in. Shayera helps Bronwyn through her window and into her room, then slips in after her.
She smiles as she hangs nervously by the window. "Sorry it got cold there at the end. I'll help you warm up if you want," she says before realizing her words. Her eyes go wide. "Umm, I mean, I'll... rub... whatever's cold?"
No. Even if she does it's... Wow, what if she does?
"Give me just a second..."
She unbelted her new coat and walked over to her dresser, grabbing a pair of leggings and tugged them on, very aware that she was giving Shayera much more of an eyeful than she'd intended. Plus, she wasn't about to go to sleep in the coat, but taking it off she was very, very aware that it was one fewer layer between her and Shayera. "Okay. That should help." She crossed her arms tightly across her chest before she slowly said, I am still cold though... If you want to stay for a while that should be okay..." Mom and Papá definitely would Not be okay with this. But she can stay without us doing... stuff. The prickling heat in her cheeks sharpened for a moment, As long as we don't start doing anything, it'll be fine.
She gave a crooked smile that kept shifting from moment to moment, "Also," she swallowed, "We should probably avoid... rubbing."
"And it's not that I don't want to! I do! I really- Just..." She looked away, embarrassed, "I'm sorta playing without a rulebook for what's okay to do with you, and I think my umm... instincts would lead me astray if you did... that. But as long as you keep your wings all," she waved vaguely in their direction, "misty, we could both fit under the covers. For warmth. If you wanted."
So I am posting from work:
Apologies about not posting sooner, but I have been down internet wise for roughly a week, and will not have internet back up yet for a week or so.
This means that I haven't had internet for the last 4 days (as we had 4 days off at my work for the holiday).
It's been...an experience where I learned that I use the internet more than I thought I did.
With all of that being said, I will try to post from work as I can, but if I am in your game, please bot me as needed.
If I am running your game, please bear with me while I try to post when I can. Hopefully, sooner than better, but I want to be up front about this issue.
again, I apologize about the delay.
Shayera watches as Bronwyn changes out of her new coat and into some nightclothes, realizing that she had a perfect opportunity to slip out and disappear -- like Whippoorwill had taught her. There was a time to disappear, she had taught, to fade into the night like an ethereal being. Job done, duty fulfilled, it's time to slip away.
She stays, however, frozen in place.
"I... I could do that," she says in response. She pulls out the magic charm and again draws it over her head, causing her deadly wings to fade into magical nothingness.
Shayera's stomach flips with nervousness at the concept of slipping underneath Bronwyn's covers with her. Is this what I'm supposed to feel? she wonders, sensing Bronwyn's own excitement.
Feeling more on edge than on the eve of battle, Shayera unbuckles her cargo pants and pushes them past her hips, revealing a basic set of panties. "Just to make sure you're warm," she whispers. This is what she wants. This is what she wants, she repeats to herself as she moves to Bronwyn's bed. "We could keep a sheet between us, if that'll make you feel better," she says. She lifts up a corner of the downy comforter on the bed. "No rubbing, I promise."
"Shayera, you're not going to lose me." There was no plan. Her throat was dry, but she cleared it and kept on.
"You don't have to... I don't think you're ready - I don't think I'm ready for... that." Bronwyn's eyes slipped again down Shayera's body, before bouncing back up to her face. "You trust me, right? 'Cause I can't... I can't ask you to do things if you're afraid to say no. You're not going to lose me." Her breath came quickly, and her face was still flushed, but Bronwyn's voice was almost steady.
"I'll know you care for me either way: Do you really want to stay with me tonight?"
Shayera swallows hard, trying to figure out Bronwyn's hesitation. She knows. She knows I'm not -- No! I just... haven't figured it out yet. But then, why is she pushing me away?
"I... I do want to stay. I'll prove it to you. Do you want me on the floor? That's fine. Whatever you want. I'll be close."
She takes a step back from the bed, suddenly afraid she was moving too fast. That somehow Bronwyn knew about that missing spark within her, and whatever she was doing was wrong. Her eyes drop from looking at her, and she looks around the room, avoiding her eyes.
"Here. This'll be good," Shayera says, finding a corner in between a desk and the wall. Her back thumps against the wall softly and she slides down to her knees. She tries to control her breathing, though every fiber of her being wants to start sobbing. She hugs her knees to her chest and finally lets herself look back up at Bronwyn. "I can just rest here, for a little bit. Unless it's weird." It was a heroic effort to keep her voice from cracking.
Then the truth in her words catch up to her. She makes a decision. "You know what? It's weird. I'll go." She yanks the pendant from her neck causing her wings to rematerialize. She rises to her feet and makes her way to the window.
Shayera takes a defensive step back, deftly moving her wing so Bronwyn doesn't cut herself. "I'm not afraid," she says with a look of defiance in her eyes. Her jaw sets.
Shayera imagines telling her everything. I haven't figured out if I'm gay. I'm not even sure I'm straight. Or sis. Cis? Whatever. I might be nothing. Asexual. And that's going to mess everything up for you. It's going to ruin your love for me, since every time we're together you're going to be feeling things that I can't feel back...
She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut and turning away. Her heart pounds at the thought of hurting her that way. She wasn't afraid. She was terrified.
She couldn't tell Bronwyn.
The silence stretches out, and Shayera could sense the rising anxiety coming off Bronwyn. She hated it. She wouldn't lie, but she couldn't tell the truth either.
Well, maybe she didn't have to tell all of it. She opens an eye and peeks in Bronwyn's direction. "I guess I'm afraid of messing this up. You know, somehow. Moving too fast. Going too slow. Doing something really dumb."
Her shoulders slump, and her defensive posture dissipates. She faces Bronwyn fully, looking up at her. "I don't really have a frame of reference for all this. But I want to make you happy. I want to protect you. I want to do everything you want me to. I think... that means... I love you."
"Shayera, I know that they tried to burn all the good feelings from you that they could. I know that they tried to make you into nothing but a weapon. There's a reason I recognized that look when you saw me in the bikini, or when you saw how much I wanted you. I've seen it when we've fought side by side, but I've seen it when you've been scared or just anxious. You gave me that look a little bit on your first day of school, the first time we met.
"And... I mean, it scares you that I love you, right? If you want, if it freaks you out, I don't have to say it - I know I definitely said it too early - but I also know you haven't heard it often enough. You deserve to know that you are loved, and that you deserve to be loved.
"I love how hard you've fought to rise above where your life began.
I love that you were willing to place your trust in me no matter how many times you've been hurt.
I love that when I've needed you, you've always come through.
I love that you helped bring me into this wonderful, terrifying world.
I love flying with you.
I love that you look for joy even in dark times.
I love the pride you take in your skills.
I love seeing you stretch your wings and be free.
"And yes, you're beautiful and sexy, and I've barely stopped thinking about kissing you all night, or..." she blushed, "You know, stuff.
"I just.... Argh. I feel like I'm way out over my skis here. I don't want you to pretend anything you don't feel, but just.... Don't be afraid of those feelings if they do happen. I won't think you were messing with me or anything if you change your mind, or if you change it back.
"I know you're not a weapon," Bronwyn reached out towards Shayera's wing again, carefully but determinedly, to put her palm flat against her razor pinions, "But I know you have sharp edges. I know I'll probably get hurt somewhere along the way, but I'm tough, and I know you'll help patch me up if i do."
It stung. Bronwyn didn't seem to believe that Shayera was capable of love. She might have been right, but hearing it wasn't easy. Not only was she asexual, but also incapable of love? She bites her lip to keep it from trembling.
She listens, eyes moistening. When Bronwyn finishes, Shayera stands frozen in place while her hand is upon her wing. She wishes for an instant that she had flesh-and-blood wings like her mentor, so she could wrap their soft feathers around them both.
But Bronwyn was right. She had sharp edges. She was forever tainted by her creation at the lab and her actions as their murder weapon. But Bronwyn knows it, and accepts it.
Bronwyn loves her even though Shayera can't.
Her hand moves in a blur and grabs Bronwyn's arm at the wrist. She pushes her hand away from her wings and moves it to over her heart. "I'm not a robot, right? That's my heart. It's beating. I can love. I have to believe I can. I want to love you. Isn't that a start? I'll figure it out, right?"
Clearly quoting she continued, " 'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.'"
She put one of Shayera's hands on her own heart in return.
"You're already fluent in what? Five languages? You'll pick this one up too. And until then: I'm here; you're here, right?"
Shayera steps back, looking dejected. "It's, um, six and a half. If you count English."
She drops her gaze, not able to meet Bronwyn's eyes. "Yeah. I know you'll be here. You'll teach me. I'm a fast learner." She forces a smile as she raises her eyes briefly.
It was a bravado she didn't feel. She felt inhuman, unworthy of love and incapable of it herself. Her heart hurt deeply for her inadequacies. Bronwyn's attempt to encourage her made her uncertain. If what she was feeling wasn't love, then what was she feeling? What would love really feel like?
She takes a step over by the bed where her pants lay on the floor. She steps into them, bending over and pulling them up. She realizes she has to turn around and face Bronwyn in order to reach the window. She has to leave, incapable of giving her want she wants.
Shayera looks over her shoulder and meets Bronwyn's eyes. Her heart breaks, and tears start to flow. She closes the distance between them in an instant, hugging her fiercely. "I'm sorry. I'll love you. I promise I will. I'll figure out how." And even if I have to go back to those scientists who made me and kick their asses and have them make me gay, I'll do it."
"Tonight, you can stay here in my bed, or I can put something together on the floor if you'd be more comfortable there. If we're in the same bed, I'd really like you to borrow some pajamas or shorts or something. If it's all too much and you want to go home, that's fine too, just... please don't run away from me.
"So, Shayera, what do you want to do?"
Shayera shakes her head helplessly. "I don't know. My thoughts are running around all crazy. My heart hurts. My stomach is all twisted up in knots. I don't know how to feel better. But, it's got to hurt less once I figure it out, right?"
She wipes her eyes and face. "Can we kiss again? You'd like that, right? I thought it was... nice when we did it before."
Her hands dropped to Shayera's hips, lifting her to Bronwyn's height as if she was weightless. "It's weird that you're always the one carrying me," [b]Bronwyn said through a small grin.
The kiss doesn't start as tentatively this time, but it's not some desperate crush or a hasty peck. It's slow, certain, gentle. When she finishes, Bronwyn just smiles at Shayera for a moment instead of pulling back. Her eyes are bright, but she's not too flushed. [B] "That help you feel any better?"
It felt odd being picked up. Wingblade had always exuded a 'stay away' vibe, so she never really had experienced the sensation. Being picked up for a kiss was even stranger, but she leans into it and closes her eyes. Her arms slip beneath Bronwyn's and grab her shoulders to draw herself closer.
She breathes her in, wanting desperately to feel what one's supposed to when you're in love. The kiss ends and she drifts down to earth, touching the ground lightly.
Shayera sighs, her feelings still a jumble but maybe both in quite as much turmoil as before. Her eyes flutter open, meeting Bronwyn's. "Yeah, I think so. Sorry I added extra drama this evening. We should have just left it to a nice evening of music and hot chocolate, huh?"
She settles a bit more, the nugget of an idea starting to form. "I'll let you sleep. I'm going to work on getting fluent in love." She makes a move toward the window.
Once Shayera leaves she finally lets herself relax. I did it. This was so much harder than with Marco... Makes sense I guess, but... She's got her own place, and we're both really good at finding time alone with each other... She can fly me places too... Now that it's safe, Bronwyn pulls her leggings back off and crawls into bed, but after a few long minutes where she couldn't think about anything but Shayera's lips or her lean, pretty legs, or the way she'd been perfectly framed while she bent over to put her pants back on, or- ARRRGGGGGHHHHH!
She flung the covers back off herself and got dressed again. If this keeps up I'm going to get a lot more late night smithing in...
Shayera flies off into the night, her mind running on overdrive. The chill air quickly sets in, washing away the lingering feeling of warmth from Bronwyn's kiss. She puts a finger on her lip, running it back and forth remembering the sensation.
Their first real kiss, and a couple follow-ups. Shayera had told her she loved her. But then Bronwyn said because of her upbringing, she couldn't love. Or love right away. Shayera thought she was in love with her, but Bronwyn could tell she wasn't truly.
She spun that around in her mind for a while as she soared back into the Tower District and the skyscraper where she lived came into view. She only knew her own feelings. She thought she felt love, but didn't. She knew her body didn't respond like it was supposed to. She wanted to love her, but ultimately, didn't know how.
Bronwyn had pointed it out. It was her upbringing. Her childhood being a lab experiment, raised to be an unfeeling, uncaring killing machine. Bronwyn knew that, though she didn't especially like the fact that she had killed people while still a part of the program.
Her upbringing. That was the problem. That was what was keeping her from being able to properly love. They had been all through her body and all through her mind -- twice, if you consider the fact that a prior version of her died and here she still was -- so they ultimately would know her better than she knew herself. Maybe they could have the answers, and perhaps even unlock her ability to love.
When she arrives at her apartment, she activates Abacus and has the supercomputer contact the one man she trusted from that program.
"Hello, Father."
Scenery bad guys are so fun in narrative RPGs.
For those who like the Masks system, Drivethrurpg is having a bundle deal where you get the corebook and the three supplement books for around $15.
Shayera's apartment smelled wonderful. A team of traditional Chinese chefs had invaded her kitchen for most of the day, and had prepared a huge spread for the New Year's Eve feast. She had wanted to invite Bronwyn, and had even asked her father for permission. However, he stressed that the New Year's Eve meal was for family. And this was going to be their first together.
Just as the table was set, the elevator doors pinged. Shayera -- Li Xiu Ying -- hurried over to greet him in a new traditional Chinese dress. She was excited for the New Year's celebration, but also for her conversation with her father about Bronwyn. He'd been busy when she first reached out to him before Christmas, but promised he'd listen during their meal.
"Hello, Father," she says in Mandarin as he steps from the elevator and breathes in deep through his nose. "They've been cooking all day. I hope you're hungry."
He smiles at her as he moves into the dining area and observes the spread. The food was enough for an army.
Not being wholly versed in the customs, Xiu Ying follows her father's cues. Eventually, they begin eating the various good-luck foods like dumplings, fish and nian gao until they are stuffed.
Finally, Xiu Ying approaches the topic that has had her stomach in knots for the last two weeks. "Father, I would like to ask you a few things, about how I was made."
He raises an eyebrow past his thick glasses that are always hiding his eyes behind a glint of light. "Oh? Why would you want to think on such awful things? This is the New Year. The time of looking forward, and sweeping away bad luck."
Xiu Ying sits up. "I know! And this is about the future. My future. And removing something bad that I just now realize had happened back then."
Her father becomes very attentive.
With Bronwyn at the forefront of her mind, Xiu Ying stares intently at her father. "I'm afraid they made me so I cannot love. And there's someone I want to love very much. But... it's difficult for me."
The Man in the White Coat sits silent as he considers Wingblade's confession. "I see," he says eventually. "I'll need to know more. Difficult how?"
This time, it's Xiu Ying's turn to pause. But finally she decides what to say. "Well, I thought I felt love, but she said it wasn't real. She loves me, and says she'll be patient with me, but how am I supposed to know?"
"'She?'" her father interrupts.
Swallowing, she looks up at him. "Uh, yeah."
The Man in the White Coat drums his fingers on the table. "Is it the Asgardian?"
Xiu Ying shakes her head no vehemently.
"Then the other one? Bronwyn Pascal?"
Shayera's expression was all he needed. "Hmm. All right, so what do you want from me?"
"I want to know if there was a switch or something that those people turned off in my head! I can't love; I can't feel.... stuff. If they did, I want it turned back on! If what I've got isn't real love, then I want to know what the real thing is! 'Cause this is eating me up!" She speaks in a torrent, voicing things that had been eating her ever since the Christmas concert.
Her father thinks some more in the silence after her plea, his face unreadable. "Have you discussed this with Whippoorwill?"
"No. I didn't want to burden her. Plus, I think she'd try to stop me from telling you. She still doesn't understand."
The Man in the White Coat nods approvingly. "All right. I'm not certain if there is a 'switch,' but it's possible that something was done to that aspect of your personality. I might be able to uncover more information in my old files. If we're lucky, we might find a way to -- well, let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"Okay," Xiu Ying says, looking hopeful.
With a growing smile, her father says, "So, tell me about this girl that's fallen in love with my daughter?
Mary-Beth's eyes widened fractionally, but all she said was, "Ohhhhh," before she went in for a hug. Once all the obligatory promises of unchanging friendship were through though, things got serious, "Does Marco know?" "Yeah."
"So that's done?" "Yeah..."
"How's he doing" "Umm... fine? I hope?"
"Yeah, makes sense. So: Skuld?" "No, I haven't told her."
"No, I mean: Skuld?" "Oh! No, no, I'm not... umm... not Skuld..."
Mary-Beth gave Bronwyn an excitedly knowing look, "But you've got a crush! Ahhh! This is so cute; I've never seen you with a crush! Who is it? Does she know?"
"Yeah, she knows. It's Shayera."
"Oh. And is she...?" "Yeah! I mean... I think so?"
"Umm, what's that mean Bron?"
With a deep breath, Bronwyn got into it, "So, like, she kissed me, but it was this whole weird thing where she thought it might help me snap out of this whole weird magicky Bran-thing which we need to talk more about, but later, but like her first thought was still to kiss me? Which, I'm new to this, but seems pretty gay to me? So anyways, she kissed me and I was freaking out and she thought I was freaking out because I didn't want to kiss her, so she said she wasn't into me like that that, but I was freaking out because of how much I did want to kiss her, and it was just this... heartbreaking whiplash, and I just had to get out of there.
"But Anyways, I ended up telling her, and she felt awful, but she didn't get it at first that it wasn't just that I was gay, I had feelings for her. And I'd kind of talked myself into the idea that she had feelings for me too. That part really surprised her, so she asked for some time to think. But then the next day she asked me to ask her out after she accidentally went all kill-mode and-"
"Sorry - kill mode?" Mary-Beth interrupted. "Oh, just this like crazy laser-focus she gets when the chips are down. Scythe has it too."
"Okay, and she asked you out after her Kill-Mode?" "Well... we were shopping for swimsuits and I was showing off a new bikini like a little bit and that's when she got all focused."
"So she kissed you, stared at you in a bikini? And then she asked you out? Bron what's the mystery here?"
The smile that kept forming as Bronwyn talked about Shayera finally shrank away to a look of worry. "She's so scared, Mary-Beth. I mean, I get it. Believe me when I say she did not have a happy childhood. I'm probably the first person to ever tell her that I love her."
"You didn't. Bron!" "What? Yeah, when I told her I had feelings for her. Those are the feelings!" Mary-Beth buried her face in her hands, "Oh my God... Pressure much, Bron?! You're her best friend and you told her you're in love with her! Of course she's scared, dumbass! Weren't you listening to yourself?! She was already afraid when she kissed you that it was going to mess everything up, but suddenly you pull a 180 and suddenly you're in a bikini and everything's rocketing at like a million miles an hour. Look, here's what you've got to do: You can't walk back the whole 'I love you' thing, but you can still casual this up a little to give her some space to breathe. When you go out, maybe just see a movie, grab some dinner, but like, also get her flowers? Something that could almost be friends, but not quite."
"So... That sounds like a really good plan..." Mary-Beth narrowed her eyes as Bronwyn trailed off. "But?"
"We maybe went to a super romantic Christmas concert, and made out a little. And then we went back to my house, and I offered to let her spend the night..." Bronwyn tried to leave it there, but somehow forced herself to add the rest in a rush, "And-I-wasn't-wearing-pants-and-then-she-wasn't-which-was-kinda-great-but-al so-she-seemed-really-uncomfortable-even-though-I-wasn't-trying-to-make-a-mo ve-and-"
**Thud** Mary-Beth's forehead hit the desk. "Bron."
"Shut up! I didn't know! How did you know anyways?" "Bronwyn, I know you. You don't make big decisions lightly, but when you make them, you're done. You don't look back. You're sure you're doing the right thing unless circumstances change. Bronwyn, of course she's scared - she can't just be sure of herself with stuff like this, or, God forbid, trust her instincts. She's killed a whole lot more people than she's kissed."
Bronwyn's eyes tightened in shock and anger, "What are you- I never told you any-" "Yeah. I know. But you were spending a lot of time with her, and there's a lot of rumors and hints about stuff like this if you're willing to look. You tend to think the best of people, Bron. But she came from the same place as the killing machine that hunted you, the one that threatened my life too. You know what? You should have told me."
Bronwyn's voice was very flat as she replied, "That's not what she is anymore." "No? 'Kill-Mode' ring a bell?"
"Shut up. A few rumors online doesn't mean you know her." "Yeah? Then tell me. You know she's scared: What's she more afraid of in all this? You, or herself? 'Cause if it's you, then you're charging straight towards a wall hoping to break through to the other side, and good luck to you both, but if it's herself, then neither of us have any idea what could happen."
"Mary-Beth, Shut. Up." Barely, Bronwyn swallowed her wrath and continued, "I know this is hard for her. That's why I told her not to worry about if she Loved me or not. To be patient with herself because all of this is so new to her."
"Wait.. wait, Bronwyn. Did she tell you that she loved you?" "Yeah, she said she wanted to make me happy, and protect me, and wanted whatever I wanted, and that she thought she loved me too." "Okay, we'll circle back later to whether that might be a clue that she's into you; what did you say?" "I said that I was really touched, but that I knew she couldn't know that for sure. I didn't want her to just say it."
"Wow. Bron, you really f#+%ed that up." Mary-Beth's voice was still jagged with indignation at Bronwyn's anger. "She was saying she'd do anything for you, and you threw it back in her face?"
"Mary-Beth, she has literally died for me. I know she wants to protect me, and that she'd do anything for me. But that's not all love is. She's treating it like if she just says she's in love with me then she did it, and she's passed some kind of test. Love's just the start, and I don't want our beginning to be rooted in her fear."
In an expression long common to both girls, Mary-Beth slowly unlocked her jaw as her anger ebbed. "Well, I hope you said it like that to her." "Not quite," worry lurked behind Bronwyn's eyes, "but I quoted 1st Corinthians at her. She knows all I want is for her to be patient."
Shayera had texted an invitation to come by her apartment and to feast on all the leftovers that filled her fridge on the day after New Year's. But just before it came time, she had abruptly canceled without explanation and a quick "sorry."
However, before Bronwyn could spend too much time in her room wrapping her mind into knots over the sudden cancellation, her mother calls her downstairs.
She actually meets her halfway before she reaches the first floor. "Wait! Don't just come down in tights and a baggy sweatshirt! Go, change into something nice! Quick! It's someone from the internship!" she says in an urgent whisper. Then she heads downstairs to run interference.
By the time Bronwyn is better attired and downstairs, there's the scent of tea wafting from the kitchen. When she steps into the sitting room, she interrupts Bronwyn's mother talking about her extracurricular activities in track with their mystery guest. The man rises from his seat after setting his tea aside.
"Ms. Pascal, I'm sorry it's been so long since your visit to our offices in Rivercrest, but I felt it's time we met face to face." Bronwyn recognizes him instantly. A figure that lurks behind Wingblade's creation and subsequent resurrection. The man who somehow inserted himself into Shayera's past and affections as her 'father.' The Man in the White Coat.
on a scale of 1-10, how cannon is this?
... Prreeeeeetty canon lol
Like if Gameplay contradicts it, we'll figure out how to tweak this to fit.
But weird or not, her mask was on.
Bronwyn reached out to shake his hand, briefly considering pulverizing every bone in it. "Hello. I'm so flattered you'd take the time to come out here."
Her mom's phone buzzed and as she quickly ducked out of the room, Bronwyn took a seat, forcing herself to hold the arms of the chair.
"I want you out of this house as fast as possible. Why are you really here?"