broken in two, a different meaning; a treeborn seed from an inch to a mile.

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

WHO: EDWARD NYGMA the riddler and JEAN GREY phoenix
WHERE: The top of a Cathedral.
WHEN: May 30th 2010, evening.
WARNINGS: Nnnno?
SUMMARY: A meeting of minds.
FORMAT: Paragraph?



She was engaging. That's the thought that kept pummeling at his synaptic snaps, that sentence is what Eddie Nygma kept dwelling upon: she was engaging. She was fascinating and vibrant and, like all curiosities, Eddie wanted to know more about her. The whisper of possession licked at his mind, the thirst to behold and hold yet unfulfilled. He wanted to know, he needed to know her, this Jean Grey.

Hence why the man was content with meandering on top of a cathedral's roofing. At a time when darkness was falling along the city's skyline, no less. Well, Eddie was content with a sense of the theatrical, of course, and the symbolism sat well with his perceived state of mind. Carefully leaning against the base of a cloud-piercing spire, Eddie peered around. His foot tapped, not out of annoyance, but for the touch expression of anxious energy. Despite his craving for this personal meeting, the detective couldn't shake a sense of trickling wariness. It had sparked during their first discussion, when Jean had known things that a typical person wouldn't. Things Edward would normally deny, but instinct ordered him otherwise. The sort of things that flushed his veins with cold horror and boiling fascination.

Glancing down at the crowds below, those specks of people, Eddie shifted to a stalk along the platform's edge. The cut stone beneath his feet was still warm from sunny exposure, he could feel the temperature radiate through his leather soles. The warmth brought his thoughts back to her, back to Jean Grey, and the answers he so suddenly wanted.

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[wasalways.livejournal.com]

Being bonded to the Phoenix had never been something she felt she'd miss. The highs were extraordinary and inconceivable, any language standing as a complete and utter failure in its wake to try and convey the glory and might of it coursing through your veins. The lows were incomperhensible and nightmarish, as if you were slowly being unborn, and such a thing was entirely different and far worse than death. The urge to turn inward after her encounter with Scott was habitual and natural by now, especially without Ororo in the City. Inside, however, there had been missing shards of her identity, a hole in what she'd come to accept, and a discomforting incompletion of the power that she held within. Blindly feeling around inside of her mind did nothing -- the presence was still there, and yet it wasn't.

It was a tacid type of feeling that sunk in and plagued her with a lack of direction. Perhaps, then, it was this lack of direction that had her seeking out others -- some expected, some unexpected, in trying to figure out these missing parts of who she was. Edward Nygma was in the "unexpected" category.

It wasn't as if she related to him. She couldn't -- not to a mind like that, though the landscape of her own mind was scathed and leveled in a completely different way, call it whatever you like, but never mistake it for sanity, and Edward's need to meet with her seemed to come from a similar place.

She felt a slight thrill as she set foot on the ground, her misbegotten day behind her, and the complex design of conflicting thoughts that she'd been weaving all day unraveled the moment she looked up at the architecture of the cathedral. Amused at sensing Edward's presence up atop of the building, she wondered if he was always this theatrical.

Mouthing a hello, but not really speaking, she waved up in a subtle manner, not caring to make a scene.

He liked questions. She could use that.

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

He caught her in motion, waving at him. She cut a lovely figure, sleek and soft, brimming with a quiet intensity. Sliding down to sit upon his roof's edge, he lazily waved back. Fingers gripped the stone edge, silently stapling him as he watched Jean's figure approach. Something about her--something he had yet to put his finger on, something that drove him mad--stimulated interest. It was an interest akin to that he had invested in Felicia, and like the interest he had with Jessica all those years ago, and yet quite poignantly neither one nor the other. Jean radiated danger, something almost unfamiliar in his reformed life.

He was a man used to femme fatales, something he would readily admit. But rarely did any prove that underlying sense of lethality. Rarely did any push a point of fear. Perhaps because Edward Nygma had a very high tolerance of danger, given his mental history and criminal record. Which meant there was something remarkable about Jean, didn't it?

"Why hello." Eddie held his communicator, speaking to her rather that shouting downwards. "Fancy meeting you here," he said with a smile. The line was delivered with an ironic pitch.

"Won't you care to join me? The sun's nearly done setting."