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 Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2018 5:58 pm
 Really, she wasn't sure if it was intentional, but the comment regarding the easy way through was far too humorous not to laugh. It was probably inconvenient trying to get through it all, anyway. When they arrived inside, she crossed her arms and quietly observed him work, unintentionally memorizing the formula while analyzing its contents.
He finished sooner than expected, handing her a test tube. "Cheers," she replied, taking it in her hand, shrugging and pouring the liquid into her mouth. "I don't," but then, she felt it, her eyes widening for a moment. "I think," she let out a hiccup, "it's working." Her mannerisms became delirious, giggling to her own thoughts. She felt light-headed, setting her right hand by her temple, walking towards a nearby surface so she wouldn't fall over, however, her hand missed entirely. Instinctively, she ended up hovering from the ground, a mere inch from the wall she nearly fell towards. Currently, heels were not her friend.
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Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2018 7:01 pm
   Owen Hunt
Owen smiled when Susan said it was working. "Good, good!" He clapped twice and then went to checked the numbers he had put down so he would remember the formula. He would not remember the formula the following morning. The effort was wasted. He noticed the familiar fight for balance that Susan was participating in and he flicked two of his fingers. when he did a chair slid from across the room to Susan but overshot slightly and hit the wall. It didn't break but there was a thud and it caused Owen to jump in surprise a little. Then he burst out laughing.
Day: January 2, 2013 | Alias: Azrael | Not In Costume
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2018 6:42 pm
Susan’s reaction was delayed, but she discerned the sound of a thud, instinctively ascending as if to avoid danger, but realized it was merely a chair clunking against the wall. She suppressed her urges, sputtering like an old water faucet until a laugh escaped her pursed lips. “I’d almost,” she hiccuped, “forgotten.” It probably wasn’t wise to try and get a nigh-invulnerable superwoman intoxicated, but such things didn’t come to mind when already intoxicated. Fortunately, she had instinctive knowledge of her own strength, rather than loosening up and accidentally breaking something. Either way, she ended up—albeit with minor difficulty—descending and setting the chair upright to sit, though it seemed more like she needed to hold part of the chair not to end up accidentally floating out of it.
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2018 8:36 pm
Owen Hunt
All Owen learned when he tried to move the chair was that he should stop relying to his mental based powers while his mind was in the state it was. Owen laughed in a similar sputtering after Susan sat down and for a moment he considered levitating the chair to mess with her. Ultimately he decided that it was better not to do something so dramatic. Instead he just pulled the chair about and inch to the left from where it was. He walked away as if he had never done anything to the chair at all. He stumbled across the room to the cases where all of his teams costumes were displayed. He found himself particularly drawn to Katrina's. She was quite the problem in his life these days. A problem he hadn't really talked to anyone about. "You know," Owen walked to the far end of the displays and stopped. His tainted mind was rifling through the memories and lessons so that he could tell Susan all about it. It was not a history he gave to many people, even some other Horsemen yet. "this mask belonged to the first Azrael. Leon Sault or something. Well I guess not this one... the first mask may have been destroyed during Morbus's attack on Purgatory." Owen paused reflectively as he examined the costumes. He spoke as if the events were public knowledge and as if Susan would even know who Morbus was. Because the Horsemen had done their job, she may not have. He remembered being told that the attack had been repelled and that they had moved so it was possible the mask was the original. It was a simple mask, cloth with the colors yellow and black that divided the mask in half. It was the simplicity that Owen was stuck on now. Each costume leading up to the present became more complex for each hero except Minerva who's suit seemed to simplify. Minerva what fresh hell she was upon him now. "Years from now I'll probably look back on my costume and think it was a mistake to choose the style I did." Another fleeting thought as he looked at them.
Day: January 2, 2013 | Alias: Azrael | Not In Costume
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2018 12:39 am
He had stories to tell, and she wondered how much he would share. He shared some insight into their history, perhaps because he knew she wouldn’t necessarily understand it all too well (indicating a measure of success for discretion) or perhaps that she’d forget, though it concluded on the subject of his own costume, sprouting some curiosity. “What’s wrong with the style?” she asked, folding her legs and raising a brow, having not left her seat but still had superhuman eyesight. While she had a few guesses, it was ultimately his take that answered the question best. “I think it’s cute in a threatening sort of way,” she joked. Of course, a lot of things some considered intimidating she found cute; she’d met the edgiest and corniest of villains, some that she was thankful people forgot were her foes. If it weren’t for the fact that he had terrifying feats, people likely wouldn’t have been able to take a foreign villain who believed he was a catfish god who caused earthquakes seriously, and that was only one of her foes from the past. It was entertaining to hear his banter, but it didn’t make it any less unusual dodging boulders from someone who genuinely thought he was some sort of deity, but that was a story for a different time. Her mind was wandering quite a bit.
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2018 4:28 pm
Owen Hunt
"Oh nothings wrong with it right now but in the future the fashion might change." Owen replied in time before he moved on from the costumes to the computer at the far wall. He typed something into the keyboard and then various sections of the floor along the walls raised until it resembled a pedestal. Then the top section became see through, revealing the trophies of the various Horsemen generations. "Whoa-" Owen sounded awestruck for a moment before he moved over to the trophies. "I just was trying to be symbolic but I forgot the system was so cool. Symbolic cause when we first met I had broken into your trophy room. Now you're in mine." He looked around at the relics of better days. He'd stopped taking trophies after his team died. It was no longer a fun game to play. He didn't want the rewards. Yet as he looked at them now he only saw the pleasant memories and the stories. "Welcome to the Gallery." Owen said in a presentation-ish way. He made a wide gesture towards all of the pedestals. There were items ranging from a jester's baton to a piece of silk nailed onto a wooden board. Even such oddities as a metal eyeball and a broken horn.
Day: January 2, 2013 | Alias: Azrael | Not In Costume
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2018 6:31 pm
As the gallery was showcased, she had to see it for herself up close, and rose up from the seat, having sobered up enough to hover towards the space; walking would have been too challenging with heels. “What’s with the silk?” she inquired. While some may have seemed relatively easy to guess at, the silk was a little confusing of the bunch. Perhaps she’d just been shown to make too many textiles by her designer? In her head, a multitude of questions arose about the stories each memento entailed, especially to the metal eyeball, though she’d take things one at a time if she could. It seemed her immunities were starting to kick in as the intoxication began to dissipate rapidly, though she wasn’t short of remembering the sensation.
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2018 9:53 pm
Owen Hunt
Owen seemed to be sobering as well but he was clearly in for a much longer process. He walked over to the case displaying the silk and tilted his head slightly as he thought back to how it had ended up where it was. "There was a woman who could only manipulate the fabric silk so that was what we called her. This was part of her costume that she tried to strangle me with before Mathis managed to cut off. Alice suggested we nail it down to wood of that if Silk ever came into the Stable she wouldn't be able to use it against us." Owen explained. "We had to arrest her three times before they finally found a way to hold her for good." He added that bit so Susan would have some closure on what happened to the villain. The Horsemen's villains tended to escape only a few times before they were put away for good with only two or three notable exceptions. Two or three very notable exceptions.
Day: January 2, 2013 | Alias: Azrael | Not In Costume
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2018 8:44 pm
While he spoke, she gazed at the cut of fabric as he described its significance. “You’re awfully casual about something used to kill you,” she replied, entertained by his response. Of course, her own room of mementos had quite a few dangerous souvenirs, but that’s likely way they were behind bulletproof glass. Her attention shifted to the seemingly ordinary chunk of iron; the mundane things felt the most out of place, so her curiosity was directed towards them the most. “What’s the story with this?” Already, she had a few wild guesses.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2018 11:08 am
Owen Hunt
"You tend to get that way when you can move things with your mind." Owen responded about him being casual about how the mementos were stored. They really were held in by far more secure methods than were shown. When Susan asked about the chunk of iron Owen seemed to freeze for a moment. That chunk of iron had an interesting history. "That is the chunk of iron that ruined my life." Owen replied bluntly after a moment. "We took that off of some bank robber calling himself 'The Magnet.' It wasn't anything special just one of the few he had with him that Mathis thought looked best. Well The Magnet's daughter wasn't too happy that we'd arrested him. Then Fraus got to her and convinced her to attack us. He gave her everything she needed and she tried to wipe us out. Almost did too." There was another paused where Owen seemed to stare at the iron. It seemed as if the alcohol was pulling his mind to places he was trying to fight and ultimately he came to one question that he needed the answer too. "Why did you kill Titan?"
Day: January 2, 2013 | Alias: Azrael | Not In Costume
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2018 11:13 pm
His question brought her into a period of silence. The mood shifted as no amount of alcohol could ever suppress how the subject made her feel. The weight of her emotions couldn't be contained. Still, she held herself together as best she could. “I want to say it was for a good cause, but it wasn’t. I watched the men I loved tear themselves apart. I failed to save one, and I killed the other. When I found Jack after the incident, he was a broken man, not just his legs, but his spirit. When he realized his days as a costumed vigilante were over, nothing could keep him from falling apart.” She had to walk to a wall and turn away, covering her face with one hand. “It was never enough; I was never enough. When I came to his house one night, I found him lifeless, sprawled across the floor. I was lost and needed something to blame, and when he—Titan—mocked Jack's memory, I couldn’t stop myself.” It felt wrong, but in the instant she gave the killing blow, it felt anything but wrong. It was only when the spur of the moment settled that she’d realized her mistake. And now, years after, it haunted her still. She shed tears despite resisting, and was slightly embarrassed that he watched her fall apart so easily.
Owen had not expected his question to prompt such emotions but the thoughts that went through his head while intoxicated demanded answer. Yet, hearing it, he almost wished he hadn't asked. He knew the emotion well, he had felt it in abundance. Owen slowly walked across the room to Susan and put a hand on her shoulder. “We loved more than anyone else and we did dark things because of it.” Owen was hardly innocent. His body count had been growing steadily until Andrea. Until someone came to remind him that the rest of the world still existed. She pulled him from the loathing and scars that never showed. In a singular moment of thought as Owen reflected on it all he looked to the wrist of the hand of Susan’s shoulder. Dark things indeed. He could only hope to be better now.
Susan wiped her face and nodded. Moments like this reminded her of her humanity, something people forget. To find herself so strong yet so fragile. There they wore, having one too many drinks, happy, sad, lost, yet found all the same. The subject always made her emotional and uneasy. For someone who didn’t have a single scar on her body, she had many. To love and to lose, and to remember what these feelings made her do. Still, she was still standing, and she was grateful for what she had. “I’m sorry. You were telling me about your iron, then the moment you ask a question, I cry like a child,” she said, managing a smile as she wiped her eyes.
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Posted: Sun Mar 25, 2018 9:44 am
Owen Hunt
"It's alright." Owen said simply before lowering his hand from her shoulder. He felt bad about asking but he knew it was an answer he needed. He constantly found himself balancing the decision between life and death. He had committed himself to a more non-lethal path but as days dragged on he began to question it. Clever villains found peace in prison but Owen never wanted them to known the meaning of the word again. So he had some doubts. Still, now that the team was on board with no killing he could hardly flip. "We've all been there."
Day: January 2, 2013 | Alias: Azrael | Not In Costume
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2018 9:25 pm
“I blame the alcohol,” she said, insisting it was what made her so delirious, swinging from tears to somehow managing a laugh. “It’s gloomy but beautiful how me manage to keep these things; so many bad memories, but they—at least my own, I mean—remind me of what I’ve overcome. I regret plenty, but I don’t regret what I’ve learned from it all.” Her own takeaway was that she didn’t have the heart to kill, not truly; it would be hypocrisy for her conclusion that life was so precious only to be willing to take it away. It was likely her father’s influence, the obligation of the strong to uphold a higher standard for themselves. It wasn’t the example she wanted to set; people looked up to her, and she didn’t want her daughter growing up believing it was okay to take someone’s life away. Emma was guileless; she snuck ice cream sometimes and enjoyed Kirby a little too much, but she hadn’t seen what she’d seen, and for what it was worth, Susan wanted to preserve that innocence for as long as she could.
Suddenly, Susan felt the urge to check the time, and realized she was out much later than anticipated. “Oof, I ought to head home. I need to wake up early and whip up a worthy breakfast.” Truth be told, she slept more so out of habit than necessity. The same could possibly be said about Emma, but Susan wasn’t too sure what Emma could do yet given her powers were still developing. “We should do this again sometime. I’m just glad we didn’t end up breaking anything.”
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Posted: Sat Apr 21, 2018 4:28 pm
Owen Hunt
Owen didn't look at the time because he was beginning to feel it by the point that Susan noticed. His eyes were getting heavy and he was stumbling around a little more than the alcohol caused him too. He nodded to her sentiment about the trophies but he did hold his own reason for having them. They were not so much reminders about what the team had overcome, they were reminders about how the team had overcome. Each one told a different story about a different villain and power. Villains and powers that had been beat. If they could remember how it had been done they would be able to do it again. It had never occurred to Owen that they might represent how the team has survived but as his world of darkness slowly found more and more lights, it might occur to him. "I can't drive. Should I call you a taxi?" Owen asked as he reached in his pocket for his phone which he seemed to struggle to find. After patting the front two twice he figured out it was in his back pocket.
Day: January 2, 2013 | Alias: Azrael | Not In Costume
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