applesaucemod: (Default)
The Big Applesauce Moderators ([personal profile] applesaucemod) wrote in [community profile] applesaucedream2015-07-02 08:31 pm

Saving Lives a Mile High [open to all]

Welcome to another ordinary day in Manhattan. This barely even qualifies as a dream at all, it's so like waking life. The dreamers will find that they're their own perfectly normal selves going about their perfectly normal business and thwarting perfectly normal crimes in their perfectly normal spandex outfits.




What's that? No, of course it's normal to wear spandex (or leather, for the more chic among you) and go around beating up muggers and thwarting your villainous counterparts, don't be silly. What else would you do with your afternoon, not use your superpowers to better the world? That's grossly irresponsible of you; don't you know that with great power comes great responsibility?

So get out there and make the world a better place -- and be sure not to let that disguise slip if you do make it in to work today. Wouldn't want anyone to learn your secret identity, after all.



[OOC: Characters will find themselves thrust into the role of superhero...or at least, super-powered human. Whether they'd use those powers for good or evil (or use them at all), they'll think they've always been this way (or maybe just since that time they fell in toxic waste and developed cancer telekinesis). Usual dream party rules apply: all players and characters welcome regardless of membership status. Characters will remember or forget the events of the dream at players' discretion.]
singthesong: (Lift)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-07-15 04:12 am (UTC)(link)
"Iman! Hello!"

Ocaso's influence is still quite clear; for someone who's always done everything possible to keep his identity hidden, B is very relaxed about suddenly being unmasked twice in as many minutes. He actually looks pleased to see her, grinning and lifting a hand in a little return wave. Isn't this fun, all of them getting together like this?
lottawork: (faceless)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-07-15 04:26 am (UTC)(link)
Solve your own problems.

His thumb hovers over the SEND button with irritating indecision. The city has been silent, save for the standard desultory array of petty thefts and attempted muggings, and he has no particular reason not to assist Iman Asadi with what appears to be a rapidly growing problem.

Nick slides the phone into his pocket as he continues to draft a string of texts he will never send.

I'm not at your bloody beck and call.

The network of traversable pathways within the city's sewer system are a painful cliché he knows back to front, inside and out - more pointedly inside as opposed to the latter. He slides the metal disc of a manhole cover aside with the hollow scrape of weighted metal and slips into the gaping entrance.

Don't think you won't owe me for this.

The wet splatter of booted feet through filmy water. The cylindrical labyrinth of tunnels stretching into pooled darkness, that of the dim lighting and eerie resonance and shifting light thrown by the lapping of a murky current.

Fuck off.

It's extremely likely Iman had a great deal contingent on the fact that Nicholas is well-accustomed to tracing the origins of every notification he receives. She is also extremely fortunate, he notes, that when he returns to the surface, he approaches the incipient calamity from the back rather from the front.

He knows the back of the silhouette facing her. He knows the set of those shoulders, the startlingly unperturbed stance, the quiet evenness of his tone.

Nicholas slows, hand easing to the weapon at his side.
singthesong: (Stage Lights)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-07-15 04:26 am (UTC)(link)
He doesn't look surprised. The words certainly have an effect, but he doesn't look surprised. He just closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth.

He knew it.

"Do you think I don't know how this works?" He leans forward to rest his elbows on the table, voice low. "I didn't do anything with you that I don't do with every half-decent vigilante in this town. My only mistake was thinking that this would be different - what can I say, I'm a sucker for do-gooders." Punch a few purse-snatchers and suddenly you must be a good person. Is he still such an easy mark after all this time?

If he didn't know better...but she wasn't sent here by any of them. He could never miss something like that. He knows their songs better than any others. "You can do whatever you want, but I'm not going to be some time looper's personal pet parrot again."
etherthief: (genuine delight | grin | possibly drunk)

[personal profile] etherthief 2015-07-15 05:31 am (UTC)(link)
"What, this?" Iman glances down at the appendage as though she'd forgotten it was there. "Can just take it off, no problem. How do you think I shower?" She looks back up at Greta, grins (only a little cheeky), and takes a nice, lingering sip.

Time seems to move unusually fast. Small talk becomes easier the further they get into their drinks, especially after the third round. Iman hasn't had food in a while and Greta seemed already a little punchy to begin with. For better or for worse, they're both drunk.

"I'm gonna do it," she affirms, brazen and maybe a little overenthusiastic. "Gonna teach you what to know. No, do. What to do. Know what to do. How to knock a guy down on his ass. That'll teach him. I'll teach you now! Come on. Upsy-daisy." She slides off her stool, reaching out to guide Greta by the arm. She's being a first class dork but it's okay. Greta likes her and it's okay. She just knows that somehow.
etherthief: (Default)

[personal profile] etherthief 2015-07-15 05:44 am (UTC)(link)
Iman regards B impassively, wondering if he's inwardly roiling at being identified right now, or what.

"This is between us, man," she says slowly. "Just let him go and we'll keep it above board."

"I see no reason to play above board," says Ocaso smoothly. "Maybe if you disarm yourself, we'll see."

Was that a pun? It better not have been. Iman scowls at the suggestion; but the good news is Rush got her message and he's closing in fast. So she raises her arm. "Come get it," she invites.


Ocaso isn't one to take the bait. He eyes her suspiciously, debating the advantages of spreading his influence to her, but why would she - oh. Of course. Someone is behind him.

He turns sharply, making a violent grab for B's arm, the force of which might be enough to jostle him out of it. Ocaso so dislikes being taken by surprise.
full_metal: (are you serious rn)

[personal profile] full_metal 2015-07-15 01:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, cry her a goddamn river. Rita huffs out a quiet laugh, incredulous and entirely without pity. "You pull this shit with everyone and expect me to believe I'm the first to object?" It probably says something bad about her that she feels more at ease as he becomes increasingly uncomfortable, but fuck it, she's been at this for a while and it's nice to finally have the roles reversed. "I'm not the only one who likes her privacy." With a glance to either side and a slight lean inward, telegraphing that she's about to impart some great and terrible secret, she adds in a conspiratorial hush, "That's what the mask is for."

A bit much, maybe. But it's obvious that he doesn't know how this works, if his only response to being called out is a load of self-righteous whining. What, does he think none of the others whose identities he casually exposed (even if only to himself) were upset about it? Has he been taking it for granted that his dubious charm and accurate information are all it would take to win someone over?

Or has he just been lucky, up until now, because none of the others could do what she does and hold him personally accountable for his actions?

Yeah, that seems like a safe bet. She sits back and just stares at him for a moment or two, wondering how many people in his contact list are being held hostage by the implicit threat of exposure. Speaking of keeping people as fucking pets. That's his purview, and his apparent experience with other time-loopers barely registers, a fact taken in and quietly filed away while most of her focus is on not throttling him.

"I already told you I don't need an informant," she says without a trace of her former levity. And if he's been paying attention, he knows why. But just in case he hasn't, she speaks slowly and carefully, each word distinct: "What possible fucking use could I have for you?"
andhiswife: (grin - charming)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-07-15 02:05 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh." Well, that makes sense. And there's no reason she couldn't learn to bake one-handed. If anyone would be up to such a challenge, a superhero would.

Greta's probably drinking more than she should, but she wants to keep up. And as things progress, it becomes easier to forget to be overawed by Iman Asadi, and to instead just think of her as Iman. A little too easy, perhaps... but oh well, there's no helping it, and Greta doesn't want to help it. Iman is nice, and she's charming, and Greta likes her tremendously, and why shouldn't she?

That, more than anything else, is what prompts her to respond to the dubiously-timed offer with an enthusiastic "Yes!" and a palm slapped down onto the table top for emphasis. This is a great idea, because she wants to spend more time with Iman - not just today, but other days. And if she does that then it's probably only a matter of time before she ends up in the tabloids, and if that happens then it's practically a given that some villainous sort will try to make a name for himself by tying her to the spire of the Empire State Building or something - she's not an idiot, she knows how these things work - and while being rescued by Iman again sounds incredibly thrilling, she'd like to at least be able to give that hypothetical ne'er-do-well a few things to think about before she's subdued. The thought of just going along quietly and sitting in a cell or something... ugh. That sounds terrible. She doesn't want to do that, she wants to be brave and--and useful.

So she slides off of her stool with a modicum of grace that promptly disappears once her feet hit the floor. The room seems to be taking longer than usual to stop moving, and she grabs hold of Iman's shoulder with a cheerful, "Whoops!" What an embarrassing faux pas on the room's part. Iman is a much steadier point of reference - forget you, room - and Greta leans her forehead against Iman's temple and shuts her eyes and giggles quietly to herself until she feels steadier.

There, that's better. See, she didn't need the room at all. "Okay," she says, straightening and opening her eyes. "We should absolutely do that. But not in here, because this room's all unsteady." That last is in a polite undertone, as if to save the room the embarrassment of being openly disparaged.
singthesong: (Reaper Man)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-07-15 05:56 pm (UTC)(link)
He, naturally, has known Rush was there since a little before he came up out of the ground. You don't hear that too often, away from the subway lines. But he didn't betray any surprise. He just listened to the approach and said nothing, because...well, Ocaso didn't mention alerting him to anyone else who happened by, now did he?

"Hey!" He snaps as Ocaso twists his arm hard, turning about to meet Rush. "What the hell - "

...oh.

Oh, shit.

There's a moment of shocked realization, followed by sinking horror as he glances toward Iman again, this time with recognition of what this actually means. Years! He's been doing this for years, and it's all falling apart over the course of ten minutes! If he can, he'll tear himself away from Ocaso - from Fring - and take a few steps back towards her. He'd run, but it's too late for that. Best thing he can do now is just try to stay out of the way. Fighting isn't his business; he's an information guy.

"Sure, why not," he snipes anyway, trying to hide fear and anger with sarcasm. "Your underhanded little plans always end so well."
lottawork: (scary | will end ur soul)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-07-15 06:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Nicholas feels his teeth bare in a soundless snarl as El Ocaso unspools into vicious twist of motion, jerking around some innocuous bystander whose identity is beyond the scope of his concern or his insight. It is not entirely germane. The breadth of his attention has been wholly devoted to El Ocaso and the emergent brisance of a potential outcome.

He cannot let the man speak.

He cannot let the man speak and should El Ocaso attempt to initiate any defensive action, which he will because he must, Nick's first course of action must be to disarm him. It must be.

There is the breathless span of seconds in which the other man turns.

Nicholas darts out with one closed fist and slams it into El Ocaso's throat.
etherthief: (oh shiiiiit)

[personal profile] etherthief 2015-07-17 02:15 am (UTC)(link)
For her part Iman leaps back, dispersing the fire thrown at her with an angry sweep of her arm, though it's a narrowly avoided burst, slow and resistant to dissipation, not at all any earthly flame. The effort unbalances her and she lands in a sprawl, staring up at their enemy who, she's starting to realize, is not like anything they've fought before.

She realizes simultaneously that Nick has fired on him, and whether that will disable him or piss him off more remains to be seen, and she doesn't wait for even the instant it'll take to tell before scrambling up to her feet.
mr_fring: (FUCK YOU)

[personal profile] mr_fring 2015-07-17 02:41 am (UTC)(link)
His eyes narrow at the sight of Nicholas Rush, ever present thorn in his side, and his hand clenches around B's arm at the attempt to wrest away. Rush is not like Asadi, he doesn't delight in childish games, he launches quick and brutal to the point of things, and Ocaso no longer needs B to draw in the targets; now he needs a human shield.

The fractional moment it takes him to activate a signal on his phone, concealed under a subtle flick of his wrist to the device in his pocket - reinforcements are, regrettably, appearing required - is all Rush needs to lunge forward, breaking with the more gentlemanly tradition of lifting a firearm and making threats, and punch Ocaso in the throat.

For fuck's sake.

He lets B go in a spasmodic motion, hand flying instead to his neck as he folds over in shock, gasping violently. Ragged little shit, essentially throwing dust in his eyes. He lashes out, seizing Rush's arm and twisting hard, shoving his weight forward with intent to throw the smaller man down to the ground and drive a knee into his back. He can barely breathe but he's moving on instinct now, anger and adrenaline powering him forward.


"Fucking shit," mutters Iman under her breath as she reaches out to pull B back a few steps more. Rush might be about to need backup but she's not ready to abandon this dude just yet. "You okay?"
etherthief: (yee!!)

ur a monster

[personal profile] etherthief 2015-07-17 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
Iman giggles at Greta's enthusiasm and softens almost immediately when the woman leans on her, even with the few inches she has on her, leaning and letting Iman steady her with an arm around her waist. This is nice. Good day. Good impulses.

"Agreed," she says, waving at the bartender as she leads Greta out the back way, where there's a nice alley. Not exactly a picturesque date location but a good place for a bit of impromptu training, which of course is laughably unwise in their current states, but life's too short for wisdom. Iman flashes teeth in a broad grin and takes Greta's hand in her organic one, stepping away like they're about to dance. "Okay so step one is balance," she says very seriously, and almost immediately her footing falters and she staggers slightly with an embarrassed laugh. "S'very important. Can't do anything without balance. We might be in trouble."
andhiswife: (smile - tiny)

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-07-17 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
Greta snorts inelegantly - but not unkindly - when Iman falters a little. For her own part, the closest thing to 'balance' that she can achieve is limiting her swaying to a ten-degree arc. That's probably close enough, isn't it? It's not as if this is a formal lesson. They're in an alleyway, for goodness' sake.

"Right," she says gamely. At least she has the 'active listening' part down. "What next?"
singthesong: (Reaper Man)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-07-17 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
B gives the hand on his arm a wary look, but lets Iman tug him back. It's just her; he trusts her. She won't hurt him, anyway, so he doesn't make any move to leave even after he's released. "Fine." He lets out a short, humorless bark of laughter that doesn't sound fine in the least, pressing a palm briefly to his temple. She shouldn't be worrying about him right now. Rush may be plenty capable in a fight, but so is Fring. "I'm fine, just - "

Focus. Calm down and focus.

He takes a breath, watching the fight without seeing it. "Reinforcements," he mutters, then nods sharply as he confirms. "He's called someone."
lottawork: (probably deserves it)

much-belated tw for violence whoops

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-07-17 04:06 am (UTC)(link)
Ocaso's larynx gives beneath the satisfying pressure of knuckles on skin, which is all the fleeting contact Nicholas is allowed before Ocaso is able to torque both his arm and the current circumstances to his advantage.

He twists against the unrelenting momentum, the iron fingers around his arm and the vicious levering of a knee into his back and the sting of asphalt on his cheek.

"Fuck off," he snarls, jerking powerfully in the other man's grip, once, twice, in tireless repetition, skin burning against concrete as he tears and tears and tears and will continue to tear until he has torn himself apart beneath fingers and concrete and the horrible unyielding pressure, until with his free hand he can seize a switchblade and flip it open and jam it recklessly upward in the vague direction of the man whose entire weight has been yoked over him.
Edited 2015-07-17 04:07 (UTC)
etherthief: (welp)

[personal profile] etherthief 2015-07-17 05:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"Well, next is..." Iman hesitates, trying to actually get her brain to work solidly enough for a logical, ordered lesson plan. It's pretty hard. Who's she going to demonstrate on, Greta? She doesn't want to demonstrate on Greta. She is, in fact, getting rather distracted just looking at Greta. "Um. Uh." She laughs, embarrassed, moving her mechanical hand to sort of cup her own cheek, a comically coy gesture with such an imposing limb. "Y'know I don't usually fight this drunk," she admits.

She sort of steps forward a bit, nudging Greta gingerly along, until they're at a wall, Greta's back against it, for the lesson. "Let's start smaller," she says, releasing Greta's hand. "Say someone has you cornered. If it's a dude there's two great options. Knee him in the junk, that'll work every time if he's not expecting it, but lots of times that's exactly what he's expecting - so what's even better is to sort of drop down and launch yourself up and headbutt him right under the chin." She demonstrates the motion slowly, crouching and then popping up gently, not under Greta's chin, but instead rather close. "Um. That. That'll knock him back and you can make a run for it."

Is she leaning closer or is that the alcohol?
etherthief: (I will fuck you up)

oh right that

[personal profile] etherthief 2015-07-17 05:50 pm (UTC)(link)
She darts a sharp look at him. Reinforcements? When? Not for her, surely, so this had to have been when Rush appeared. It's not at all a matter of how Ocaso managed that, but how B knows. She's looking point blank at him and he hasn't done anything. He's not just a really gifted spy. He's got some kind of power. That's how he does this shit, that's how he never gets caught.

She can't deal with that right now. Rush is still on the ground, Ocaso is coughing violently but getting stronger, holding his head down on the asphalt and burying a knee in his back - this has to get dealt with now.

She doesn't bother telling B not to go anywhere, because ultimately she can't stop him, not to mention it's bad form to give orders right after you've been caught by El Ocaso. She springs forward and delivers a swift roundhouse kick to Ocaso's head, and again to his chest, effectively dislodging him and knocking him back. She doesn't waste time tending to Rush, who'd push it off anyway - she launches after Ocaso and punches him hard before holding him down with her mechanical hand around his throat. This is a much dirtier fight than usual but he made the mistake of dragging in a sort-of civilian. That tosses everything out the window.

"Call off your friends," she snaps. "Now."
andhiswife: (serious)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-07-17 07:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Greta waits patiently, unperturbed by Iman's floundering. This must not happen often, impromptu self-defense lessons in an alleyway after several drinks, but she has complete faith that Iman will come up with something.

"But you could," she offers by way of encouragement. Iman could do anything, she suspects. Anything she wanted. What must that be like?

It's a faint surprise when her back bumps up against the wall, but not a troubling one. The wall makes it easier to stand without swaying, and a villainous sort would try to corner her, wouldn't they? Perfectly sensible. It's just that it doesn't leave her with anywhere to go when Iman finishes her demonstration.

She's so close.

Greta starts to lift her arms automatically, but she doesn't know what to do with them next. Is she actually meant to fight back? She doesn't want to. Her hands hover at Iman's sides, because there is no way to touch her that wouldn't be presumptuous.

Is Iman leaning closer, or is she just imagining it? She searches the other woman's eyes, uncertain and inquiring, and then forgets what she was supposed to be looking for. Her cheeks are flushing - probably from the alcohol. "Yes," she hears herself say, as if from a distance. In response to the lesson. Probably.
etherthief: (intimate)

[personal profile] etherthief 2015-07-17 08:10 pm (UTC)(link)
She has completely lost track of what was going on, and that's okay, because Greta is really lovely and looking at her. Iman can't keep from breaking into a grin. This is all very sudden, but for some reason she doesn't feel rushed at all. For some reason she feels like she's been waiting for this for a long time.

"Yeah," she agrees to - whatever the 'yes' was for. The grin softens into a shy little smile and she lowers her hands briefly, to set Greta's at her waist, before lifting them up again, the organic one cupping around the back of her neck and the mechanical one resting very gently on Greta's shoulder.

"This," she says, "I don't recommend in an professional capacity."

She leans in rest of the way and kisses her, soft and tentative and brief; when she parts she doesn't quite pull away, eyes opening to look back at Greta's.
singthesong: (Horizon)

oops

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-07-17 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)
If nothing else, he'll try to be the best sort-of civilian possible. As Iman leaps into action, he leans down to grab his guitar case again and backs farther away from the fray. If he gets involved at this point it can only be as a hostage, and that's an escalation no one needs.

New Yorkers know not to rubberneck at this kind of fight, so there's no crowd gathered around; people are giving them a wide berth, him included. B stands alone and bounces nervously on his heels, shooting quick glances at the empty sidewalk behind him. He could run. Iman's seen him, but she doesn't know his name or where he came from; he could hop on a bus and be out of the state in hours. There's a bag packed in his apartment and a series of sealed letters that would wrap up all his unfinished business in his absence. Ever since he entered the hero game again, he's been ready for this.

But there's still things he can do to help here. If those reinforcements come anyway, a few minutes' warning could mean everything. Ocaso is pinned, so he turns to scan the road for anything hostile-sounding. The general noise of the city makes it harder, when he doesn't know specifically who might be coming - but he's always worked it out before.
andhiswife: (listening - verge)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-07-17 09:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Iman guides her hands to her waist - the touch of her metal fingers is less hard than Greta would have expected, less cold - and for a befuddled moment she thinks the lesson is continuing, that this is going to turn into some kind of ninja throw or something. Ridiculous.

Then Iman's hand curls around the back of her neck, and Greta's breath hitches. Oh. There's no mistaking her intent, not anymore, and an incredulous part of her echoes, seriously? just before Iman's lips meet her own.

Apparently, yes.

She's never been kissed by a superhero before.

And then Iman pulls back a little, and Greta makes some sort of noise, an aborted half-syllable of surprise and objection. Why did she kiss her? Why did she stop? Greta didn't even get a chance to kiss her back, and that's just--just not fair.

But Iman's not going anywhere. She's just standing there, waiting, watching her reaction. Presuming nothing. Greta could push her away, just once, gently, and that would be the end of it. Why does that mean so much?

She shivers, and her hands forget their inertia and slide down to Iman's hips, pulling her closer. There's so little space between them, anyway; she scarcely has to dip her head for her lips to find Iman's again. It's so easy, and she can't suppress a faint hum of satisfaction, as if sampling a dessert-in-progress and finding it perfect.
lottawork: (rooty tooty aim and shooty)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-07-17 09:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Asadi kicks Ocaso in the head.

This is fairly obvious, even from Nicholas's somewhat lesser-if-nonexistent vantage point.

This is not what he would dictate as an expected outcome, but it is not unworkable in concept or in practice and the window in which Ocaso is thrown from his back is enough for Nick to brace both palms flat against asphalt, teeth gritted against the settling ache in the shape of the other man's knee where it ground into his back, and flip himself over to recover enough traction to crab back and away from the imminent catastrophe.

He contemplates the wisdom of simply disembarking and leaving Asadi to it.

Nick sighs and draws his weapon, the ophidian shape of it snapping open with the electrical hum of a building charge as he crouches beside the floored Ocaso and brings the weapon's tip to the other man's temple.

"One shot from this," he hisses, the words low and immediate, "will not kill you. It will, however, place you in a great deal of pain. Therefore," and he presses it viciously against Ocaso's skull, grinding it unremittingly into skin, "I suggest you do as she says."
etherthief: (off guard | oh!)

[personal profile] etherthief 2015-07-17 10:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Greta's hum is low and almost dignified, but Iman actually lets out a delighted squeak when she's pulled back in. This has her adrenaline rising much quicker than the initial test; she feels elated and, oddly, relieved. Somewhere at the back of her mind under the slosh of alcohol and false memories she thinks finally, she's been waiting and hoping, and that doesn't make any sense because she just met this woman, how could she feel so satisfied by such an impromptu kiss, how can she possibly know that she's in love with this woman?

The thoughts don't rise quick enough; she moves her hand from the back of Greta's neck to the back of her head, fingers tangling gently into her hair, her other arm shifting down to wrap around her back. Yes, okay, she would like this to continue, please, for the foreseeable future, because Greta smells like flour and tastes like sweet wine and her hands are so nice, and Iman wants this moment to keep happening and to progress. She really, really doesn't want to wake up.

Wake up?

Her hand has slid onto Greta's cheek and she's just caught Greta's lower lip gently between hers when she freezes up completely, memories and explanations rushing back in a disorienting swirl still deadened under psychosomatic drunkenness.

What is - what is this?

She blinks, dazed, and looks at Greta, her expression failing to reached bewildered and so settling for awe.
andhiswife: (don't cry out loud)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-07-18 02:30 am (UTC)(link)
The squeak is a surprise, and the corners of her mouth tick upwards. That she could even elicit such a sound from Iman is a thrill: she is a famous hero, and Greta is no one, a baker, and yet here they are, making out in an alleyway like a pair of teenagers. Is this even real?

She doesn't care. Iman's fingers are in her hair, and her lips are soft, and she's being so gentle - reverent, almost, as if Greta is the lofty, unattainable one, and she can't believe her good fortune. Which doesn't make the least bit of sense, she's not--there's nothing intimidating about her, surely?

She's sliding one hand up Iman's back in what she hopes is an encouraging sort of way; the other is experimentally fondling the hijab when Iman suddenly stills. Oh, dear. Should she not have touched the scarf? Greta opens her eyes, expecting to see shock or reproach and not the expression Iman's currently wearing, which is... stunned, but not in a bad sort of way.

What's happened? What is she missing? Why have they stopped? Is... is that all?

"Iman?" she hazards, searching her gaze for some sort of explanation. "Is--are you..." she fumbles uncertainly, terrified all of a sudden that she's made some sort of mistake, got the wrong idea. Well, of course she did. She's only a baker, and Iman is a hero, and they might get a moment in an alleyway but nothing that will last; she doesn't get to keep this. Why would she?

She releases Iman's hijab, and wonders if she ought to extricate herself completely, but she can't bring herself to do that. Instead, she finds herself lifting her hand to Iman's face, brushing her fingertips against her cheek. "I--" she starts.

And then she wakes up.
omnomnom_feels: (anger | disgusted)

[personal profile] omnomnom_feels 2015-07-18 04:53 am (UTC)(link)
Nhodd doesn't bother to watch the woman, taking for granted that his fire will at a minimum distract her while he contends with her companion, and, preferably, will put an end to her efforts altogether. He does not see her dismissal of his aetheric fire as he turns to face Nick's attack, not knowing what trickery the mortal will try this time until the arc of blue light hits him.

At once electricity is coursing through him, and for a moment his joints lock as his muscles spasm in response to the painful false signals. He stumbles and his legs threaten to give out under him as his wings snap open painfully wide, feathers brushing the dirty concrete. Unexpected as the energy attack is, though, he knows what to do with it -- it is the wrong kind of energy, but he can make it the right kind, convert it to aether and feed it to his fire, and he does so, burning brighter than ever with fire that for a moment he cannot direct except outward.

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