capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

WHO: Future!Cloud 9/

catmasked.
WHERE: Selina's safehouse.
WHEN: After Abby's post saying she's moving out of the Initiative house.
WARNINGS: Abby being her aslkdjfa-ing future-self. :(
SUMMARY: Selina gives Abby a place to stay and clothes to borrow.
FORMAT: Quicklog or something, idek.

There's a young woman standing outside Catwoman's safehouse.

It's almost impossible to miss her-- she's tall, but more than that, the blue and black spandex covering her entire body makes her look like something out of a sci-fi adventure book. It's fortunate that she's at least removed the most conspicuous part of her costume: the streamlined helmet. She's holding it under her arm, her back turned towards the outside as she peers at herself in the reflection of one of the windows.

She doesn't think she seems so different. Her hair is shorter now, and wrapped up tightly in a knot at the back of her head. Her face has lost that puppy chub that filled out her cheeks when she was younger, but the structure-- the shape of her mouth, the shade of her nose, and the color of her eyes-- these things are all the same. She doesn't seem to understand the big deal everyone's been making. She's still Abigail Boylen, isn't she?

The only different, she thinks, is that she's a little stronger now. And if being strong means she has to stay away from her old teammates, then the necessary must be done. She believes in doing what she has to. She'll give them space.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It didn't take Selina long to pick up a few changes of clothes for the new and supposedly improved Abby. Jeans, slacks, a few tops in stark, neutral colors. One in pale blue, tossed in as an afterthought.

The girl waiting for her outside the building is taller than she had expected. And definitely in need of a better wardrobe. The costume sure as hell isn't doing her any favors. And is that a helmet she's holding?

Ugh.

Selina gives her a nod as she hands her the bag of clothing, pulls out the key. A cool gesture, but not cold. "Hi Abby. How are you doing?"

Abby turns when she hears someone approaching. Before accepting the bag from Selina, she gives the woman a direct and clinical once over, as if she wants her first impression to be very thorough. There's no recognition on her face, and she seems half-expecting Selina to say something critical to her. After a moment though, she only receives the greeting and inquiry, so she accepts the bag.

"Hello," she responds, her posture still not quite relaxed as she speaks. "I'm doing as good as person can be, I guess, considering circumstances."

A pause, then she adds a bit carefully-- as if she's not used to the words, "Thank you for the clothes."

"Not a problem." Selina leads the way into the building and down a corridor, to a tiny studio. Spartan, but well stocked with food and medical supplies. Just one of several little boltholes she has set up around the city for emergencies, though this isn't quite the type of emergency she'd ever pictured.

"It's not much, but it's a place to stay," she tells the girl, watching her face. She'd caught the slightest bit of hesitance from her outside. Not really unexpected, but... it's something familiar.

Abby follows Selina inside, her gaze wandering around curiously as they walk. It's simple, but not any worse than the rooms and bunk beds at Camp Hammond. Besides that, she doesn't need much-- just a temporary place to stay for a while and sort herself out.

She sets down her helmet, along with what belongings she brought and the bag of clothes, before glancing around the studio once. At length, she replies, her face carefully controlled as if by habit. "It's enough."

Then, almost conversationally, she asks, "What was she like, the other me?"

"You don't remember?" But of course she doesn't. This Abby was never here. Different timelines, different worlds, and Selina is getting so damn sick of it.

But it's not exactly this girl's fault she's here.

Selina rests her back against the wall. "First time I talked to the younger Abby, she chewed me out for upsetting her best friend. She eventually decided I wasn't a complete bitch and then started with the shy act." The corner of her mouth ticks up into the slightest hint of a smile. "Still, not too many people are brave enough to yell at me the way she did."

Abby is pulling items of clothing out of the bag, looking at each article a bit skeptically before folding it and setting it aside. She lingers longest on the light blue shirt.

"When I was younger, I had moments where I thought I was being brave," she replies a bit dryly, pausing to smooth a stray strand of blond hair back from her back. "But most of the time, I was afraid."

She purses her lips briefly. "I'm not afraid anymore."

"Mmm." The words are all too familiar. Could have come out of her own mouth, really. She glances at the stack of folded clothes, neat and precise.

"I know exactly one person who isn't afraid of anything. And he's a psychotic clown. Literally." She crosses her arms. "It's all about how you use it."

"I'm not psychotic, and I'm not a clown." She doesn't seem to see any kind of humor in that. Her eyes, when they lift to look at Selina, are hard somehow-- not in a purposeful way, but more the way that a soldier's eyes are hardened. "Despite what everyone says, I am a hero."

A pause, then in a gesture that's oddly Abby, she glances down at the stack of clothes, rubbing one of her arms briefly. "And I fixed everything about myself that I hated."

"I didn't say you were." There is no humor there, no matter what the Joker thinks.

Cool gaze meets hard eyes. "Not like I know you or your world. I couldn't really say." She notes the familiar gesture, although her expression doesn't change. "And I didn't realize Abby hated herself that much."

"I don't anymore," the blond replies smoothly, absently smoothing her hands over the folded clothes. "I've grown up from that insecure and awkward girl. I don't hesitate to make decisions when I have to."

There's something subtly nostalgic about her face. Like she's remembering something, something from what feels like a lifetime ago. When a boy-- the boy gave his life to save hers. Because she'd been a coward back then. Because she'd been too afraid to do anything.

Her expression tightens briefly before she adds, "And I never freeze up when it counts. The Initiative's taught me to do what it takes to protect people."

"Protecting the innocent." It's funny, no matter how often she's said the words, has heard them said, they never soften. Never drifting into the realm of cliche, at least not for her. They carry too much weight with them.

Her gaze drifts away from Abby. "Guess it's up to each of us to decide where to draw the line."

(no subject)

no subject

Alkjfaasd All of Abby's icons are so weird. 8(

That costume is so fug.

I KNOW RIGHT AAAAAA.

She kills so she doesn't have to look at herself in the mirror

The costume drives her to murder. 8(

No jury would find her guilty.

LMFAO CRAP I deleted all my future!Abby icons. 8V Oh well.

No more fug!

/strays briefly out of hiatus :V

hallo!