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[Clark has Neoma, a fruit bat who pretty much lives tucked up on his shoulder or hanging off of his messenger bag.]
[Sandy's got Itziara, a sandfish who happily burrows through and around HIM as she likes. Usually she'll pop up on his shoulder.]
[Ari has a raven named Daedalus who prefers to keep his distance, to hang back and observe. Until decides he likes you and then he's in your face, picking your pockets and untying your shoelaces. Setting of your choosing.]
He's over for coffee, as is their way, and Itzy's finally decided that she can explore a little. She's clearly not sure if she's happy with this place, but there's something about Ari's apartment that at least smells right and has her skittering around to explore more than she ever has since the cage.
"Sorry," he says with a faint smile down at his little daemon, "she's feeling adventurous."
"Sorry," he says with a faint smile down at his little daemon, "she's feeling adventurous."
Bruce is still not sold about this whole knowing-each-other's-identities thing, but he's allowed himself to be wrestled into accepting it for a small handful of people. He's uncomfortable in this bare-bones center they're tentatively calling the Watchtower (mostly to move away from the unbearably dramatic Hall of Justice title) despite having designed most of its insides.
He's on monitor duty, and when he hears the door slide open behind him he has to force himself to leave his hand where it is-- though he twitches towards his face, wanting to pull the cowl back up. He already knows who I am, he reminds himself, though an answering instinct says Then it's fine if you keep the mask on. He doesn't want to look anxious, though, and stills himself.
(Batman is alone - no daemon; his hard-won ability to be physically distant unnerves people, he knows. That's fine.)
He's on monitor duty, and when he hears the door slide open behind him he has to force himself to leave his hand where it is-- though he twitches towards his face, wanting to pull the cowl back up. He already knows who I am, he reminds himself, though an answering instinct says Then it's fine if you keep the mask on. He doesn't want to look anxious, though, and stills himself.
(Batman is alone - no daemon; his hard-won ability to be physically distant unnerves people, he knows. That's fine.)
Daedalus watches the tiny lizard with a glittering black eye from where he's comfortably ensconced on the windowsill. His black feathers are all fluffed up and he's nestled down as if to sleep, but one eye tracks the rapid movement of his counterpart with as much interest as he's feigning not to have.
"It's all right," Ari says, bringing two mugs back from the kitchen. She hands him his coffee, done up the way he likes, and then settles in the chair opposite him. "She's more than welcome. Right, Dade?"
The bird huffs and shivers in his ruff. "Of course," he croaks.
"It's all right," Ari says, bringing two mugs back from the kitchen. She hands him his coffee, done up the way he likes, and then settles in the chair opposite him. "She's more than welcome. Right, Dade?"
The bird huffs and shivers in his ruff. "Of course," he croaks.
Edited 2016-03-19 04:22 (UTC)
Clark, on the other hand, is feeding his daemon part of a strawberry with one hand as he makes his way in. He and Neoma have figured out ways to deal with the distance, but it's not something he forces himself to do unless a battle situation requires it. Coming in for monitor duty is not one of those times.
"If you're more comfortable," he says with a tip of his chin, "you can pull the cowl up. I just figured it doesn't breathe all that well."
"If you're more comfortable," he says with a tip of his chin, "you can pull the cowl up. I just figured it doesn't breathe all that well."
[Liir has Lyric, a tiny dragon the size of a large cat who likes to climb around him like he's a cat post.]
"I don't breathe through my forehead," he says-- snaps, really. Immediately, Bruce hates that he says it or anything at all, and wishes he'd just kept silent. He forces himself to even out his vital signs - spiked slightly with irritation at himself. This is Superman. Clark. Whom he knows. ... Sort of. He's the person he feels least uncomfortable around, anyway.
In the faint reflection of a monitor, Bruce watches the other fighter's daemon eat a strawberry. Until he realizes that's what he's doing, and his gaze twitches elsewhere. Bats are uncommon daemons; most animals that people tend to find 'creepy' or 'spooky' are. He supposes the most powerful being on earth has no reason to cringe away and unconsciously influence the fixed form of his soul, but it's still interesting. Different. He's never known anyone with a daemon of his namesake before.
In the faint reflection of a monitor, Bruce watches the other fighter's daemon eat a strawberry. Until he realizes that's what he's doing, and his gaze twitches elsewhere. Bats are uncommon daemons; most animals that people tend to find 'creepy' or 'spooky' are. He supposes the most powerful being on earth has no reason to cringe away and unconsciously influence the fixed form of his soul, but it's still interesting. Different. He's never known anyone with a daemon of his namesake before.
Clark just raises an eyebrow at the outburst, because really, Bruce. But a moment later, he settles next to Bruce in the other chair, and glances over at him in a silent question. Everything all right?
He's concerned. After all, Bruce is usually pretty settled in his own skin. He tries to think of what might have set him off before realizing that he hasn't gotten to meet Nee before. But...
He's Batman. Why would he be bothered by--
"This is her usual form," he ventures after a moment, peering over at Bruce. "She's been a fruit bat since I was in high school. Kryptonians aren't any different from anyone else when it comes to daemons. I didn't-- I mean, I hope you don't think I'm trying to make you uncomfortable. With Neoma, I mean."
He's concerned. After all, Bruce is usually pretty settled in his own skin. He tries to think of what might have set him off before realizing that he hasn't gotten to meet Nee before. But...
He's Batman. Why would he be bothered by--
"This is her usual form," he ventures after a moment, peering over at Bruce. "She's been a fruit bat since I was in high school. Kryptonians aren't any different from anyone else when it comes to daemons. I didn't-- I mean, I hope you don't think I'm trying to make you uncomfortable. With Neoma, I mean."
Itzy skitters up the back of the couch to hiss out a quick 'thank you' before she goes to investigate the rest of the room. She's shy, doesn't generally talk to people without being spoken to first.
"I appreciate it."
He takes the coffee (black, with three sugars) and lets his hand skim her arm in thanks.
"I appreciate it."
He takes the coffee (black, with three sugars) and lets his hand skim her arm in thanks.
"It's not that," he says, almost flustered. Clark's daemon is interesting but not his source of discomfort.
"I don't know why I'm here." It's difficult to admit, but he makes himself. At least his anxiousness has dissolved; he's a bit wary still, always has been around people being so comfortable with their daemons, but he hadn't lied. "I don't like being away from Gotham. I'm not like you and Diana."
"I don't know why I'm here." It's difficult to admit, but he makes himself. At least his anxiousness has dissolved; he's a bit wary still, always has been around people being so comfortable with their daemons, but he hadn't lied. "I don't like being away from Gotham. I'm not like you and Diana."
Her fingertips linger on his and she gives him a smile that someone else might describe as wry. But this smile, it reaches her eyes. Beside her, the raven sighs, his feathers falling back to smooth.
"You know you're both always welcome here," Dade says. Human words sound like graveled silk on his tongue. "Any hour of the day."
"Yes, thank you, I'm sure he knows that," Ari adds, her gaze dropping to her mug. It's the steam making her cheeks color. Must be. "Itzy, there's a little box in the window you might like."
The little box is made of terracotta, warmed by the sun, filled with a soft white sand. The flower in it is fake, but it's the thought that counts, right?
"You know you're both always welcome here," Dade says. Human words sound like graveled silk on his tongue. "Any hour of the day."
"Yes, thank you, I'm sure he knows that," Ari adds, her gaze dropping to her mug. It's the steam making her cheeks color. Must be. "Itzy, there's a little box in the window you might like."
The little box is made of terracotta, warmed by the sun, filled with a soft white sand. The flower in it is fake, but it's the thought that counts, right?
Edited 2016-03-19 05:20 (UTC)
"Always so quick to think you're different," slips out of the little bat, which makes Clark turn to her and give her a bit of a look. No need to be rude, after all. But she'd always been quietly outspoken.
Clark has learned to just sigh and go along with it.
"I do wonder what you mean, though. That you're not like either of us."
Clark has learned to just sigh and go along with it.
"I do wonder what you mean, though. That you're not like either of us."
Bruce's eyes narrow slightly. He doesn't like talkative daemons. It's considered sort of fine for them to say rude things, and it bothers him. His gaze stays on Clark's though.
"I'm not going to inspire hope or ... media-friendly pictures, good feelings, in anyone," he says. Bruce wants the Justice League to work, he really does. But maybe it would be better for him to stay in Gotham, and just fix their computers sometimes.
"I'm not going to inspire hope or ... media-friendly pictures, good feelings, in anyone," he says. Bruce wants the Justice League to work, he really does. But maybe it would be better for him to stay in Gotham, and just fix their computers sometimes.
Edited 2016-03-19 05:18 (UTC)
"Really?" Clark notes with a raised eyebrow. "You don't think it's important that a baseline human is a public member, a standardbearer in fact, of the Justice League?"
Because this isn't just about organizing Earth's heroes, after all. It's about more than that. It has to be about more than that.
"You're a reminder, internally and externally, that this organization, what we're trying to do, isn't about powers. It isn't about... destiny or even just duty. It's about stepping up, choosing to make a difference, working hard and helping people with the skills you have." He tips the strawberry up a little more for Nee. "And we both know that that's not just some soundbyte to make you feel better. You're an important part of the team, Bruce. And what you bring to the team is very real. After all, how many times have you saved my life alone?"
Because this isn't just about organizing Earth's heroes, after all. It's about more than that. It has to be about more than that.
"You're a reminder, internally and externally, that this organization, what we're trying to do, isn't about powers. It isn't about... destiny or even just duty. It's about stepping up, choosing to make a difference, working hard and helping people with the skills you have." He tips the strawberry up a little more for Nee. "And we both know that that's not just some soundbyte to make you feel better. You're an important part of the team, Bruce. And what you bring to the team is very real. After all, how many times have you saved my life alone?"
Bruce tolerates that little speech with only slight discomfort - by now he's sure Clark has figured out that his field partner reacts, shall we say, less than generously, to displays of sincerity offered in his direction. But in turn he's learned that this is just how Clark is. He's the only person Bruce won't tell to shut up.
"Most people in Gotham aren't aware I'm not a meta," he points out. Bruce is proud of being baseline, but it's helpful to inspire that kind of terror regardless. He shrugs, and looks back at the monitors.
"Thirteen to one." A beat. "One and a half. I'll give you the warehouse thing."
"Most people in Gotham aren't aware I'm not a meta," he points out. Bruce is proud of being baseline, but it's helpful to inspire that kind of terror regardless. He shrugs, and looks back at the monitors.
"Thirteen to one." A beat. "One and a half. I'll give you the warehouse thing."
"How generous."
Clark's own count is a little different, but it's an amiable kind of different. He'd rather argue over how many times than ever win the argument.
"And I mentioned internally for a reason."
Good job trying to slither out, Bruce. But you are important.
"I actually figured it had more to do with you spending so much time in the light when you're more used to hugging shadows." Nee got a scritch as he spoke. "Which is fair. It took me a while to be comfortable with public attention. There were years where I was out there, helping people, making sure to move too fast to be seen."
He tilts his head.
"Not that different, Bruce. Really."
Clark's own count is a little different, but it's an amiable kind of different. He'd rather argue over how many times than ever win the argument.
"And I mentioned internally for a reason."
Good job trying to slither out, Bruce. But you are important.
"I actually figured it had more to do with you spending so much time in the light when you're more used to hugging shadows." Nee got a scritch as he spoke. "Which is fair. It took me a while to be comfortable with public attention. There were years where I was out there, helping people, making sure to move too fast to be seen."
He tilts his head.
"Not that different, Bruce. Really."
"I get a lot of public attention in Gotham." Attention of a very different sort.
His pale eyes track something in Clark's face for a quiet moment, attention split between him and the monitors. Once, he glances at the bat. It must be comforting to have her near. He looks back at the screens.
"You can take your mask off too, if you want," he says eventually. Dry.
His pale eyes track something in Clark's face for a quiet moment, attention split between him and the monitors. Once, he glances at the bat. It must be comforting to have her near. He looks back at the screens.
"You can take your mask off too, if you want," he says eventually. Dry.
He can't help ducking a little, a faint blush coming to his cheeks. Neoma looks at Bruce for a moment, clearly measuring him, then pushes up to flap her way to the ceiling where she finds a spot to hang.
"I didn't mean to sound like a PR blurb. I just... can't imagine doing any of this without you. And personal reasons like that aren't great reasons, I guess."
"I didn't mean to sound like a PR blurb. I just... can't imagine doing any of this without you. And personal reasons like that aren't great reasons, I guess."
"Personal reasons?"
Now Bruce is looking at him with a sharper gaze. Can't imagine doing any of this without you - what, can't Clark imagine working without being nitpicked and growled at? Bruce isn't apologetic about how he acts - he firmly believes it's all necessary - but he knows what everyone thinks of him and he knows he's never going to fit in. That worries him. He doesn't want to be the break in the chain.
Personal reasons, though. He can't figure why Clark would want him here, personally.
Sound from the hallway behind them, and Batman tugs his cowl on out of habit before Flash bounds through, chipper and talkative.
Now Bruce is looking at him with a sharper gaze. Can't imagine doing any of this without you - what, can't Clark imagine working without being nitpicked and growled at? Bruce isn't apologetic about how he acts - he firmly believes it's all necessary - but he knows what everyone thinks of him and he knows he's never going to fit in. That worries him. He doesn't want to be the break in the chain.
Personal reasons, though. He can't figure why Clark would want him here, personally.
Sound from the hallway behind them, and Batman tugs his cowl on out of habit before Flash bounds through, chipper and talkative.
A tall blond man started making soft whickering noises at Lyric and held out a small treat to him.
"You're spoiling her," Liir said from his writing. He'd been at it for far too many hours.
"Dragons require spoiling and bribery."
He asserted again as his own dæmon climbed up Liir's back. He scooped Lyric up and scratched under her frill.
He asserted again as his own dæmon climbed up Liir's back. He scooped Lyric up and scratched under her frill.
And Liir, like clockwork something very automatic reached back and scritched behind an ear. Lyric, for her part, trilled happily and curled her tail around Trism's arm.
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