dualislogs | Aim high and you won't shoot your foot off

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Aim high and you won't shoot your foot off

WHO: Cissie AND YOU
WHAT: A chance to get to know each other a bit before the memory share event in August! c: Run into Cissie out and about, tag her with a marker, make conversation, eat her cooking.
WHERE: Around Dualis--in the dorms, at Home on the Range, the indoor archer range, in a coffee shop, pick your poisono
WHEN: End of July/Beginning of August
WARNINGS: N/A at the moment; will update if necessary

a) Out and About: Coffee Shops, Library, Around Town

Cissie's developed something of a routine, now that she's been in Dualis for a little over a month. She remains unsettled by the bombing and the strange messages from "the heart," but she hasn't gone digging too deep for information. That's more Tim's realm, and she knows there are a lot of people interested in looking into that. She's more focused on trying to get the lay of the land, and making sure she and the people she cares about can stay as safe as possible--which is difficult when your friends actively seek out danger like they need it to breathe.

On a typical day, she gets up and leaves the room early to get breakfast and a morning run in while giving Tim some quiet space to sleep, stopping for a coffee and maybe a pastry at one of the many, many coffee shops nearby. She spends quite a bit of time at the library, trying to learn what she can, before heading to her part time job.

b) Home on the Range

Cissie stumbled across the indoor archery range (appropriately named Home on the Range) by accident, but she couldn't have been more thrilled to find it. She missed the range and practicing in a familiar setting, while she was in the Village. She has a job here now, as a part-time instructor. She teaches lessons to kids and adults and everyone in between, both in groups or in private lessons, depending on what she's assigned. She finds that she really likes it, especially when it comes to the kids. Sometimes it's awkward when her client isn't entirely humanoid, but she's finding her way and her voice, and she can't help but remember Shaun Mason in Wonderland, who was the first person to tell her she should try teaching archery.

When Cissie isn't working, she still winds up spending a fair amount of her time there. It's been far too long since she was able to spend the daily hours practicing her archery that she used to, and now that she can, she's working hard to build her stamina back up and get back to her old normal. (Of course, her old normal was that of an Olympic gold medalist who has been training since the age of three, but it was still her normal.) Most of her practice time is spent on form and function, but occasionally, if no one else is in the gym, she can't help pulling some of her old tricks, just to make sure she still can. (Spoiler alert: she can.)

c) The Dorms: 5th Floor Kitchen or Lounge

One of the things Cissie actually liked about living in the Village was learning how to cook. She never had to, before. When she was little, her mother did all of the cooking (such as it was), and then she lived in boarding school with a cafeteria before landing in Wonderland, where food appeared by magic. The Village was horrible in a lot of ways, especially when it came to food, but she did start cooking, mainly out of necessity. The stoves and refrigerators and stores in Dualis are significantly better than what she had there, and Cissie doesn't want to stop learning now. She checks cookbooks out of the library and begins experimenting in the communal kitchen on the fifth floor of the dorms. It may not be anything particularly difficult or fancy, and it doesn't always come out right, but Cissie has managed to master a decent spaghetti and meatball dinner. Whatever she cooks, there's always more than enough to share and she's happy to do so, usually leaving the leftovers in the fridge with a note to "help yourself."

She can be found in the kitchen cooking more food than one nineteen year old can possibly eat, or attempting to bake a loaf of bread, or a tray of muffins, or she can be found in the lounge on the other end of the floor, reading in a sunny spot and taking notes on things she wants to try.

d) Free Choice!

Cissie is fairly social, so feel free to find her out and about wherever your character may run into her, if none of the above options work for you! (Also, she is participating in marker tag, so she likely has a good covering of marks on her person and may well have given your character some as well.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That's not bad." The voice behind Cissie might startle her, or not; Clint's well aware that archers tend to have very good perception, and Cissie's clearly one of the best he's seen. But he's got his own talents of moving around with such a soft step that he's basically a damn ninja, and he's been known in the past to take even other spies off guard with how he can pop up without them noticing. It's not something he tries to do, it's just something that happens at this point - and to be fair, it's something he's not taking any pains to mitigate in this city because he has absolutely no trust in why he (or anyone else) is here.

But he'd been out in the city, looking for Koenig Fitness and Recreation, the place he'd been told he was supposed to start working as a self-defense instructor in a couple of days, when he'd stumbled across Home on the Range, a place he completely hadn't been expecting. Back at home, archery was kind of a "fad" sport, though it was slowly getting more popular thanks to some prominent movies and even himself a little, so there weren't all that many places dedicated to simply practicing it. Those who used it for hunting tended to shoot in woods far away from other people, and he knew a fair number of gun ranges that had times set aside for archers, but only a few specifically for archery. The fact that there was a bows-only range in Dualis was a surprise, but one he'd been happy to see. Part of the deal he'd taken had been to not pick up a bow and shoot, but in practice it was kind of a moot point, and one that had never been enforced beyond a certain level. His own basic sets hadn't been taken away, and he'd been allowed to purchase ones for Cooper and Lila when they'd finally gotten old enough that he was willing to teach them. (Well, Laura had. Same thing.) His special, S.H.I.E.L.D.-grade equipment had been confiscated, but a normal bow and a standard arrow couldn't really do anything beyond shoot something, unlike Scott's Ant-Man suit, and Clint himself was the threat even without his weapons.

But a place here to keep his skills sharp was a blessing he hadn't expected, and Clint had immediately gone in and put down enough money for an hour's shooting and the equipment rental fee, no questions asked, despite the fact that it was the vast majority of the money in his possession. He'd get more soon enough; right now, he wanted to practice. The face of the woman behind the desk had been surprised verging on shocked when he'd asked for a compound bow with a draw weight of 200 pounds, but it had smoothed away quickly and she'd presented him with two to perform an arrowless, experimental draw on. The second felt better to him so he'd taken that one, she'd handed over a full quiver, and he'd gone up to the second floor, just in time to see Cissie performing what honestly looked like a weird (but somehow appropriate) cross between his and Nat's skillsets.

"You look pretty confident with what you're doing. Good to see someone who knows training's important." Clint's tone isn't in any way talking down, taking her less seriously because she's young and a girl; it's conversational, even lightly approving as he shrugs off his flannel shirt, leaning the bow against the wall so he can strap the quiver around his torso, slide the three-finger glove on his left hand, and then tie the arm guard onto his right forearm. The long sleeves would only get in the way, he's learned that well enough over the years. "A lot of people just wanna be elves or whatever now, they don't get that it's work to do something like that without a computer to help you."

Edited 2019-07-29 01:42 (UTC)

Cissie is surprised by the voice, but only because she was focused and well into that zone where nothing really exists but her and the arrow and the target, where her muscles do what they have to without much conscious thought, and she can depend on her arrows hitting whatever target she aims for. Still, alarmed or not, she has the sense and control to know better than to react as if she's being threatened, even given their circumstances. (Maybe it's because of their circumstances that she's able to react calmly; she knows the club staff by now, and knows her surroundings here. She also knows she could defend herself here, of all places, better than anywhere else. She has a bow in her hands here.)

Cissie turns to see who is speaking to her, and she can tell he knows what he's doing just by the way he moves. He isn't someone here for beginner lessons, or even lessons at all. His shoulder muscles alone tell her that much. His compliment brings a smile, and she catches the approval in his tone; it makes her blush, hopefully not enough to show, given how hard she's been working and pushing her body.

She also can't help but laugh when he mentions elves. "Oh, man, tell me about it. I don't think people understand CGI and special effects. Like hobbits are real, right? You can even tell the actors in those movies aren't actually the ones shooting their bows!" She rolls her eyes, and grins a little sheepishly. "My friends kind of refuse to watch movies with me when there's archery. Especially if it's a Robin Hood story."

"They're shooting the bows - they're just not shooting them at the targets the arrows hit." Which, really, is fair enough, since the actors are making a movie and they don't want anyone getting hurt from it. He knows enough to know that actors who take on those roles aren't given real arrows, rather blunt sticks or even nothing at all, with the computers putting in arrows later along the correct path. Even in the old days before the computer revolution they were mostly hollow sticks on invisible threads or, at best, foam-tipped sticks. Except for Kurosawa, but he and Mifune were just insane. "Safety and all that stuff, it's not like they wanna skewer a cameraman. But it still amazing they're shooting anything with their forms mostly being crap. Sorry I startled you, but I didn't wanna surprise you by walking up next to you when you had a live shot in your hands. Kind of a bad idea and all that."

Clint's knowledge of range protocol could only further cement Cissie's assessment that he isn't here for lessons or training, at least not the kind of training she's being paid to give. Instead of picking up the bow, he begins a series of stretches that should be intimately familiar to her, geared as they are towards loosening the shoulders and warming up the arm muscles: wrist flexors and wrist extensors, triceps stretches, and carefully but firmly pulling one arm across his body with the other to extend the muscles he'll need for shooting. He's not focused on a general body exercise at the moment, he'll have somewhere else pretty soon to do weightlifting and cardio, this place is specifically for archery. If he's going to pay to be here, he's going to use all of that time.

"I don't really have that problem, but I've got others of my own," he says as he stretches, working his muscle groups individually until he can feel that comfortable relaxation that indicates they're at the right stage, then moving on to the next (while ignoring her blush). "I've got a bad habit of yelling or laughing at stupid horror movies 'cause the people in them are so dumb. But that's more something everyone knows, so I guess more people are willing to put up with it, and me throwing things at the TV." Because of course he does. "Looks like you come here often, with that kind of skill."

Cissie waves off his apology with a smile, crossing the room to collect her arrows. It's clear he knows what he's doing and this isn't new for him, so she leaves him to it, but she giggles a bit when he mentions throwing things at the tv. If he's anything like her, he's long ago learned not to throw heavy objects at it; her aim is too good, and televisions are expensive. Returning to the other end of the gym, she offers a friendly smile before moving into her own set of cool down stretches.

"Well, kind of. I'm still pretty new around here--I've only been in the city for a little over a month, but it didn't take me long to find this place. I work here part time, though, and gym time is a perk. But yeah, my mom always liked to say I could draw a bow before I could read."

There were a lot of other things her mother liked to say about her and her archery, but that one was true and not one of the worse statements, so she doesn't mind sharing it. "I'm Cissie, by the way. Cissie King-Jones. You look pretty familiar with a bow yourself."

To be fair, he's also been told to stop throwing things at the TV too many times to not have learned to stop by this point, unless it was a deliberate bad movie night. At least popcorn isn't going to break anything. Just make a mess.

"You're one of the hijacked?" It's his own private term for what's happened to them all; it seems appropriate, given the weird tech-focus that Dualis seems to have. Of course the Head had said that a lot of the people here were technically not native, but from what else had passed in that not-really-a-conversation he'd gotten the idea that the crop of recent "acquisitions" was a special case, prompted by finding a solution to that plague. Or at least that was the public line - he's been a spy way too damn long to not have serious doubts about everything he'd been told. "Guess I am, too - I've only been here about ten days. I didn't think this place had an archery range, but I also didn't look for the yellow pages or some kind of index."

Stretching accomplished, Clint reclaims the bow he'd rented and moves to the farthest distance line from the row of targets, almost to the wall, and brings it up into an excellent shooting form. His arm and shoulder align, his elbow's straight, and he pulls back the string to just past his eye, tilting his head just slightly to get a read on his chosen target even without an arrow nocked, getting used to the pull of this specific bow. "Clint, Clint Barton." With the number of people (kids) here who seemed to know him, at this point it wouldn't surprise him if Cissie was in that category, and if she did it would save him answering some questions. But if she wasn't, she definitely knew her stuff. "You could say that. I didn't start as early as it sounds like you did, but I've been doing it most of my life. Once it gets in your blood, it won't let you go." And knowing she's far out of the way and no one else is in the room, Clint draws an arrow from his quiver, nocks, aims, and fires, all in one smooth motion in less than two seconds. He is using this time he paid for, damnit.

"Hijacked?" Cissie repeats, turning the phrase over in her mind and considering their situation. Given the way she and Tim turned up in Dualis, having been separated from Stephanie unexpectedly the way they were, it made a certain amount of sense. "I guess you could say that. I like it--the term, I mean. Not--all this," she waves a hand, indicating the city itself. "Although it's not terrible. This place is pretty great," she says with a little grin.

She doesn't show any recognition at his name, but he didn't seem to recognize hers either. It's more common than not since she left home, so it doesn't surprise her like it once might have. It means she also doesn't think much about not recognizing Clint's name... at least until he starts shooting. Once he starts, his movements, his marksmanship, his aim have her full attention. She doesn't even realize she is practically holding her breath until he's shot a few arrows, and then she can't help herself.

"You're a professional," she exclaims, beaming at him.

"'Hijacked' sounds the most right to me," Clint responds as he continues shooting. He's obviously not going at his top speed, because he doesn't need to in a session that's mostly just a warm-up and re-acclimation, but he's still very fast and very fluid in drawing and releasing his arrows. It's the kind of speed that only comes when one is very, very, very good at their job, and is undoubtedly one of the things that clues her in. Another being the fact that he can perform with that speed and precision while talking, and yet another being that he's marching the arrows in from the outer rim of the target in evenly-spaced steps, in a completely straight line. "We all got 'hijacked' out of our normal lives, or whatever we were doing before this, and dragged here against our wills. It's like a carjacking that way. Who knows what's at the end of this ride, though."

When he brings down the bow, he's shot ten of the arrows in his quiver, half of his ammo, and that line of arrows stretches from the edge of the target to the very center of the bullseye in a way that's almost eerie. Other people might do something similar when they're getting used to a weapon as their aim improves with each shot, but even then there's a variation in the spacing that just isn't visible on his row. And he knows that for someone of Cissie's level, he just gave himself away hard, but he still asks because he's interested to see how she responds. "What gave you that idea?"

It's the smell of bread that brings him upstairs. Normally David doesn't wander much on the floors above his own, doesn't see too much of a point. His floor has it's own kitchen, he works out of there with all the efficiency and kill of a proper chef, and what could be better?

But ah, the smell of fresh bread. The time, the effort, the energy that goes into a single loaf always put David off of the idea of making it, and the smell now as he's coming home from his own grocery shopping, ready to start his own dinner, finds David and his groceries heading up the stairs. And into a kitchen with a familiar face.

"Cissie, right?" he asks as he sets his bag of groceries, everything he needs for dinner and leftovers for lunch for a few days ~~or for two or three people to eat very well~~ and smiles at her. "Didn't know you could bake."

Cissie looks up and smiles, but doesn't stop the kneading she's in the middle of. There's a loaf on the counter, another in the oven and she's working on her third. She's finding that she likes kneading, which is part of why she's made so much so far. It's all the same kind, but practice makes perfect, as her mother always said.

"Hey there," she says, "David, yeah?" She shoves on the dough, shooting a glance at the timer, and smirks slightly. "To be honest, if you did know I could bake, I'd be a little worried. It didn't exactly come up when we met. I bet there's a lot you don't know about me."

"There's just short of everything that I don't know about you," David smirks as he takes a chair and sits down to watch.

If nothing else, her kneading form is quite good.

"Never had the time to really work out the whole bread process."

"Well, you're not going to learn something new with that attitude," she replies with a good natured smile. "Although I will admit that I never did, either. No time, or kitchen access, or food to spare to waste on something that might not turn out, depending on circumstances. I'm working out of library books."

"Well, the world sort of was ending for a while. And then there was the time where I had a stove, but not an oven. So only pan-fried bread."

Still, he smiles at her wanting to improve herself. That's always a good thing.

"Bread the only thing you're doing?"

The world was sort of ending. That's certainly familiar enough. Cissie shakes her head. "For today, probably. Although I guess I'll make dinner later, unless we decide to just eat bread tonight. But I'm also working on cooking in general."

"I was actually going to cook some herb grilled chicken with ginger and red pepper asparagus. If you spare some bread, I could share chicken."

What? It's a good idea. It seems like a fair trade.

Cissie smiles. "That sounds pretty good to me," she says. "I haven't seen you up here before. You live on another floor?"

"Fourth floor," David admits. "The smell of your bread brought me up here. Maybe it's magnetic."

He does get up and considers the open counter space. Time to stake out a place to start prepping other food.

Cissie chuckles. "Well, I guess I don't blame you. Is there anything that smells better than fresh bread?"

"Well, I'll let you judge my asparagus," David smiles as he quickly wipes down a bit of the counter before getting out his chicken to start preparing it.

It's nice, to banter with someone while cooking. It feels a bit like home.

Cissie laughs, pulling a face. "Look, I like asparagus as much as the next girl, but I don't know that anyone would say it smells amazing."

"You've never had mine," David chuckles.

And the thing is, not many people like asparagus. He'll try and change minds. He even starts humming as he pulls out a tray to start marinading the vegetables.

"Why so many loaves, if I might ask."

She nods, conceding that point, even if she privately wonders how much anyone can do to change the smell of asparagus. She glances over at him when he asks about the bread, and says honestly, "Well, it's my first time trying this bread thing. So I figured I'd give myself a few tries to see if they come out okay, or if practice makes perfect. That, and I thought I'd bake some for a few friends."

"Practice definitely helps," David agrees as he takes a piece of ginger out to start grating it. It definitely adds a new scent to the air.

It goes surprisingly well with the yeasty smell of the room.

"They're lucky to have a considerate friend like you."

Tim can cook, but he tends to keep it simple. He'd done some (not much) experimenting with cooking on his own before turning up in the Village, and since then he hasn't focused much beyond the basics. He's learning more by watching Cissie and sorting through recipes with her, but even then he doesn't really have any interest in baking.

All of this means that instead of actually helping her make the chocolate chip cookies the way he would be chopping vegetables if it were dinner, he's sitting off to the side with the bag of chocolate chips.

Open.

He eats (another) small handful.

"Do you think chocolate chips would be good in a lettuce wrap?"

Cissie looks over at him from where she's stirring the dough and pulls a face. "What? Tim, we did not hit you that hard over the head."

He shrugs, chewing thoughtfully. "You might have. Besides, who's to say I might not be discovering a new flavor sensation to sweep the nation?"

Cissie rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "Okay, well now I'm sure we did. Let me know if you get the urge to go looking for any fur lined capes, would you? I need to be mentally prepared for the return of Mr. Sarcastic."

He laughs and sets the bag of chocolate chips aside, giving her a thoughtful look. "Do you think anyone can really be prepared for that guy? He's, y'know, kind of a lot, sweetheart." He lets his voice and speech patterns slip a little into Mr. Sarcastic's. Cissie had seen most of his performance on TV, but he has no doubt that it was traumatizing enough to be very memorable.

Cissie literally stops stirring the cookie dough, standing still with her jaw dropping when he starts talking. Then she turns and points the spoon at him.

"What are you doing?"

"You're the one that asked after me." He smirks at her. "You didn't think I'd really need a fur-lined cape to come out and say hi, did you?"

Cissie stares at him for a second, and then moves suddenly, swooping in to grab the bag of chocolate chips off the counter next to him. She turns her back on him and returns to her cookie dough. "Well, Mr. Sarcastic doesn't get any cookies. These cookies were meant for Tim Drake."

Tim considers doubling down on Mr. Sarcastic, but that way lies "not getting chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven," and he's not sure he's up for that. He wants cookies, and maybe cookie dough, and Mr. Sarcastic is getting none of that.

He grins a little at her. "Sorry, Ciss."

Cissie glances over her shoulder at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Wow. You must be going soft in your old age, Tim. I didn't expect you to break character that easily."

"I had to weigh the consequences of continuing to be an asshole, or getting chocolate chip cookies. There seemed to be no percentage in continuing to be an asshole." He shrugs. "Am I forgiven if I promise to not call you 'babe' or 'sweetheart' for at least a week?"

On one of these days, Cissie's coffee wanderings take her by the Expresso. Aqua is on her way out for the day, having put in her part-time hours already, but the second she spots Cissie, her face breaks into a smile. The plan had been to take a walk around and see if she can come any closer to finding a pattern to the location changes and maybe she still will do that. For now, though, she's happy to shelve that plan in favor of saying hi to her friend.

"Cissie, hi," she says, walking up. "I haven't seen you recently. How are you doing?"

Hopefully, Cissie is doing better than when they first reunited on this world. They'd had a good talk, but at the same time, they'd both been a bit shellshocked from the bombing.

Edited 2019-07-31 01:47 (UTC)

Cissie has something icey and chai, covered in whipped cream and syrups, and she has zero regrets about it. She has even less regret when Aqua appears, as if by magic. She grins and greets her friend with a one-armed hug, thanks to her drink.

"Aqua! Hi! I'm good," she says, smiling earnestly. She is, too. It's not as bad here as where they came from, despite the strange messages and random things that happen periodically. "How are you? Do you work here?"

Aqua is getting used to the hugs and she returns this one, doing her best not to knock the drink out of Cissie's hand. Whatever it is, the drink smells good.

"Yes, I do," she answers with a nod. "Only part-time, I think. I'm doing all right. Ven's here now. Have you had a chance to meet him yet?"

The mention of Ven brings a slightly larger smile to her face. She has really missed him since she was brought to the last world. Having one of her best friends here has really helped her and now she wants him to meet all of the other friends she made.

Cissie brightens herself at how happy Aqua is when she mentions her friend. She shakes her head. "Not yet, but I'll have to make sure I do. Any friend of yours is someone I want to know." Her smile is sincere; she really means that. She nods her head toward the door. "Are you done work? Want to take a walk with me?"

Aqua hopes Cissie and Ven will get along, although she can't imagine that they won't. They're both very nice people, prone to helping others, and the light in both of them is strong.

"Mm," Aqua says with a nod, as an affirmation that she's done with work and she'd love to walk with Cissie. "Sure. I just finished my shift. I haven't figured out where the streets go today, but I never mind walking with you." Her smile says that her words are genuine. "Did you have somewhere in mind to go?"

Not that Aqua minds just wandering, but she'd like to know if she needs to keep track of where they're going and how they get there, given how much the streets seem to change.

[jason isn’t very good at celebrating birthdays and holidays - they weren’t really a cause for celebration in his house growing up - but he knows it’s not like that for everyone. and cissie is such an important friend to him, so he wants to try to show her that, because acting on his feelings rather than talking is what jason typically does better.

so ... a gift. he wrestles with ideas for a few days and decides on a simple lined basket decorated with red silk ribbons and filled with kumquats. it’s nothing fancy, but she’ll understand the significance of it.

on the morning of the 12th - not too early, in case she’s sleeping in, but around the later end of breakfast time - jason heads down to the fifth floor and the room cissie shares with tim, basket in hand. his heart pounds as he knocks on the door, and he considers just leaving the basket to be discovered when the door is opened, but that’s not really the best way to deliver a gift, right?

so he stays, and he waits.]

[Cissie does give herself the chance to sleep in on her birthday. Tim always sleeps later than she does, given how late he generally goes to bed, and while she usually gets up and out before him, today she lets herself sit in bed and read for a while. She doesn't expect anyone to remember her birthday; she hasn't exactly announced it, and thanks to inter-dimensional travel, it feels like it's been forever since the last time she celebrated it, back in Wonderland.

Tim is still sleeping on the other side of the room when someone knocks on the door. Cissie is surprised, but sets her book aside and gets up to go see who it is. When she opens the door and sees Jason, the curious look on her face changes quickly to a bright grin.]

Jason! Hi!

[it's hard not to smile back at her when her expression lights up like that. a soft, weightless feeling rises up in his chest, and he almost forgets that he's here for a specific purpose, not just to bask in her radiance.]

Hey, [he says, with a nod of greeting.] A little bird told me it's your birthday today, so, um - I got you something. [he holds out the basket of fruit for her to take, smile shifting to slightly more sheepish.] Happy birthday.

[A little bird, huh? Cissie glances over her shoulder at Tim, who has the grace to at least crack an eye open. He grunts at them and just rolls over to face the wall, pulling the blanket up over his head, and she shakes her head at him fondly. She steps into the hall with Jason just as he holds the basket out for her, and she gasps when she sees what he has.]

Jason! [If he thought she looked happy when she saw him, it's nothing compared to the way she looks when she sees that gift basket of kumquats. She takes it from him, cradling it like it's filled with gold instead of citrus.] I can't believe--How did you even find kumquats here?!

[well, if jason has to die a third time while he's out wandering the multiverse, he can at least do so happily with the knowledge that he did something to make cissie look at him like she does now - like he's more than a broken boy who doesn't belong to anyone. once he hands off the basket, he ends up shoving his hands in his front jeans pockets, trying to ignore the way his face now feels warm.]

By being ... I think the exact words I heard were annoyingly persistent. [he laughs under his breath.] Just took some time to track down the right place, that's all. But ... you're worth it. [he shrugs lightly, like it's not a big deal for him to do or say any of this, and that is a complete lie.]

[Cissie feels herself blush at that; you're worth it, he said. Most people might see a basket of kumquats as an odd birthday gift, but they're so much more than just fruit for her. Especially knowing that Jason had to take time and effort to find them. When she gave him the basket of kumquats in Wonderland, all it had taken was a trip to her closet and the kumquats had just been the result of Wonderland's sense of humor or fuzzy magic. But here, now, Jason had gone out of his way to find them for her, to give to her on her birthday. And said she's worth it.

She doesn't know what to say, what to do; nothing seems right or enough, in the moment. So she carefully sets the basket down beside them to keep it safe, and doesn't think. She acts. She's so full of happiness and gratitude and love that it feels like she could burst.

She doesn't have the words for how she feels or how she wants him to know what this means. Since her words fail her, Cissie takes a step to close the space between them, and reaches up to pull him closer so she can kiss him instead.]

Edited 2019-09-02 05:35 (UTC)

[jason understands what it’s like when your feelings grow so big and intense that they can’t be contained in words. for him, it’s usually been his anger shown with the violence of his fists, but maybe it’s not so surprising that love can act the same way. maybe love and anger are two sides of the same coin, one forged deep in the fires of a person’s heart.

he’s not expecting to be kissed, but when it happens, it doesn’t strike him as strange. she’d kissed him on the cheek before, not that long ago. maybe that was the first step to this dance, a first true acknowledgement of feelings that have been building through many months and two slides through the multiverse together. jason felt something for cissie the first time they spoke, something a little more the first time they met, when she’d patched up the injuries he’d arrived with in wonderland, something even more still through the growth and deepening of their friendship. and he’d tried to push down and forget about the way his heartbeat picked up pace when she smiled or said something kind, because jason knows he doesn’t deserve to have someone as good as cissie in his life.

he’d tried ... and he’d failed. but unlike his other failures, this one didn’t hurt.

the surprise of the kiss only lasts a fraction of a second, then he leans into it, reciprocating the gesture, mouth pliant if a little clumsy, because he’s never done this before. he slips a steadying hand to the side of her neck, warm and gentle; he’s in no hurry for this kiss to end, and when it does end, as it must, he stays close, eyes still closed. he remains silent for a moment, thumb slowly tracing the edge of her jaw, waiting for his heart to settle long enough for him to find words again. those next words are barely more than a whisper:]

What was that for?

[Cissie couldn't have said what she expected to happen when she pulled Jason in. She hadn't planned it, hadn't anticipated this being the way her birthday started. But here she is, kissing him... and then he's kissing back. If he's clumsy, she doesn't notice--she wouldn't have any frame of reference herself, for starters, and more importantly, he's kissing back. When they break apart, she's almost breathless from pure happiness.
Her heart is racing so fast she wouldn't be surprised if he can feel it.

She doesn't move away, because she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to move ever again, if it means being held like this. When Jason breaks the moment with his question, she can't help herself. It's such a ridiculous question, something that feels so obvious to her, that she says the first thing to come to mind, her own voice still a whisper:]

Kumquats.

[As soon as she says it, she laughs and kisses him again, pressing her mouth to his quickly, punctuating her words next with brief kisses.]

Kumquats, and you. Wonderland. The Village. Here. Because you're okay. Because we're together. Because you're you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Aim high and you won't shoot your foot off

B, of course

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c. Someone Need Help?

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c: asking the important questions

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a!

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aug. 12

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