His homeworld--homeworld, like he hadn’t been born and spent twenty-one years of his life on the planet Earth like every other ******** human on the planet--didn’t sit right with him. Now that he’d heard its glassine ringing once, he felt like he couldn’t stop. It was there in the back of his head while he performed an emergency appendectomy, and while he dug a bullet out of a mother from Scituate, and when he washed up after resetting a football player’s horrendously broken leg. He heard it in his sleep. Maybe Nick had missed something in his dream. Maybe that other Nick had visited Oenone, and the knowledge, that tinnitus ringing, was what had made him that way.
Tallulah was home, but it honestly hadn’t crossed his mind to talk to her about it any more than he already had. She was a senshi, with five years of experience, so she might know, or at least might empathize. But it was Finn that had dragged him into this, realistically speaking. (Nick did not want to be a corrupted senshi again--he missed being Paul, but not--not the very few, small things he remembered of being Spinel.) “I’m going to make a Skype call,” he said to Tallulah, “Knock if you need anything?”
He didn’t actually know the time difference between Ecuador and New Hampshire. A quick Google search said it was only two hours, but… if so, it was just turning seven o’clock where Finn was. That was a reasonable time to expect him to be online. So Nick logged in to Skype, and when Finn turned out to be just as online as expected, he sent a message: Are you busy? I have questions.
Silverah
Finn had been in and out of touch with his friends from Destiny City. That he and Nick and Kaatje had all gone out of town at the same time was a bit unfortunate in that it left the building in Megiddo’s care, and he wasn’t sure how well he trusted Megiddo. She could be.... impulsive. Flighty. But he and Nick and Kaatje were all adults, with adult responsibilities and adult opportunities that they had to take when they presented themselves. Kaatje could not very well have argued against her deployment - she’d signed a contract, for two years or four years or six years or whatever - and if Nick had even thought of passing up his fellowship, Finn would have clocked him upside the head.
So really, it was for the best that they’d all left, because they couldn’t very well stay. Just because you were an extraterrestrial superhero didn’t mean you had to totally abandon your hopes and dreams.
But, getting back on topic, Nick’s message was not entirely unexpected, though Finn did have to wonder what questions could entail. He was waiting for dinner to finish baking, and Arkady had gone to shower off a day of sand and sweat and sea, so he didn’t think he’d be interrupted for at least the next ten minutes or so. I’ve got time, he typed back, and started a call.
“Hey,” said Finn, squinting at the blurry picture. “Sorry if the resolution’s a bit weird. Wi-fi here can be dodgy.”
So really, it was for the best that they’d all left, because they couldn’t very well stay. Just because you were an extraterrestrial superhero didn’t mean you had to totally abandon your hopes and dreams.
But, getting back on topic, Nick’s message was not entirely unexpected, though Finn did have to wonder what questions could entail. He was waiting for dinner to finish baking, and Arkady had gone to shower off a day of sand and sweat and sea, so he didn’t think he’d be interrupted for at least the next ten minutes or so. I’ve got time, he typed back, and started a call.
“Hey,” said Finn, squinting at the blurry picture. “Sorry if the resolution’s a bit weird. Wi-fi here can be dodgy.”
“Yeah, of course,” said Nick, reaching out to adjust his laptop screen. Finn looked odd, silhouetted in the bluish light from his computer; it reminded Nick uncomfortably of Babylon. And he wished he could see the civilian form of Avalon, where-ever she was--having her out of sight when he was looking at Finn made him antsy. Who knew what she was doing out there? Finn, probably, but… “I went to my homeworld,” he said, avoiding whatever passed for eye contact as far as Skype went--he wanted the call so he’d know he was talking to Finn and not Arkady, but he wasn’t sure he had it in him to look Finn in the face and admit he was wigged out by a dream. “Well, to Oenone.”
He couldn’t prevent the accusatory tone from worming its way into his voice, though he tried. “You said that it would be dead. Everyone said the homeworlds were dead. That was--I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t dead.” Even now, thinking of the riotous plant life--the faint golden sunlight--made him feel a little dizzy. He could barely manage to patrol. How was he supposed to somehow take care of an entire world? “I’m not--angry, I’m confused,” he said, although he definitely sounded angry. Sometimes it was hard to control his tone, even when speaking. He tried, but miscommunications just… they happened.
“I wanted to be alone,” he said, “and that--I wasn’t.”
Silverah
Finn nodded, understanding Nick’s concern. “Well,” he said, after a moment, “For a certain value of dead.” It had taken him a while himself to grasp that when people said the homeworlds were dead, they meant unfit for long-term habitation. And most people weren’t in the business of sprucing theirs up, so it was easier to say dead and leave it at that. There was something totally final about the word. A homeworld that was dead was a homeworld that you didn’t have to put any effort into.
“When we first cracked the doors to Mistral - Anabel’s wonder - open, there were flowers growing wild on the inside,” he said, and wondered if Nick had already talked to Tallulah. She was far more of an expert on all things Senshi than Finn was. “And - Cosmos, this was ages ago, but there were vines and things growing all over the place when I went to Vindemiatrix.”
Vin.
He still felt like such an awful, shitty person over how that had all come to pass. “When people say the homeworlds are dead,” said Finn, “They mean that you can’t up and move there and stay there for, like, forever. And it gives them a free pass on not doing anything with them.” It was just laziness, in his opinion - Babylon’s dedication to his wonder had made the mountainside bloom. “It doesn’t mean there’s not plants.”
“When we first cracked the doors to Mistral - Anabel’s wonder - open, there were flowers growing wild on the inside,” he said, and wondered if Nick had already talked to Tallulah. She was far more of an expert on all things Senshi than Finn was. “And - Cosmos, this was ages ago, but there were vines and things growing all over the place when I went to Vindemiatrix.”
Vin.
He still felt like such an awful, shitty person over how that had all come to pass. “When people say the homeworlds are dead,” said Finn, “They mean that you can’t up and move there and stay there for, like, forever. And it gives them a free pass on not doing anything with them.” It was just laziness, in his opinion - Babylon’s dedication to his wonder had made the mountainside bloom. “It doesn’t mean there’s not plants.”
“No,” said Nick, vehemently, leaning forward. Realizing how close he was to the screen, he jerked back like he’d been stung, and then he stopped moving entirely, twisting his hands together on the desktop. Scraping his nails over his palms grounded him, calmed him, and he said again, more composed, “No. Something was moving, Finn.” Something was alive, there, he was certain of it. He would have known the rustle of leaves, the soft susurration of vines blowing in the breeze. What he had heard was something entirely different.
He shook his head and ran his hands over his hair. “I’m glad to know others have plants on their worlds,” he said. “I really am. But there was something there. Something other than me. It moved when I walked towards it.”
Over it. Nick shook his head again. “There was nothing there,” he said to himself, mostly. “It was--where’s Avalon?”
Silverah
As for something being alive… Finn really did not want to suggest to Nick that there was anything even remotely resembling the killing machine that still roamed the halls of Mistral on his homeworld. He couldn’t be sure, without having been to Oenone himself, whether Nick’s fears were legitimate or just a reaction to hearing buildings settling and the wind blowing in an unfamiliar setting. He wondered if Nick was seeing a therapist for his rather obvious anxiety issues - but that wasn’t his place to really ask.
“If you’re really that concerned,” he said measuredly, “Take Europa with you next time. She’s smart. She’s got a lot of experience with space travel. And she can handle whatever you guys might run into. Her magic packs a wallop.”
It was also probably very good for Nick to be away from Avalon for a while, he thought, spurred by Nick’s last question. Even if his memories of Spinel were few and far between, he still had them, and he still had a completely understandable distaste for his former handler. It wasn’t - it wasn’t that Finn had fully forgiven Avalon for her actions, but he had a responsibility towards her that made him look past all that.
“Arkady’s in the shower,” he said. He could hear her singing, some Disney’s Greatest Hits medley. “Why do you ask?”
“If you’re really that concerned,” he said measuredly, “Take Europa with you next time. She’s smart. She’s got a lot of experience with space travel. And she can handle whatever you guys might run into. Her magic packs a wallop.”
It was also probably very good for Nick to be away from Avalon for a while, he thought, spurred by Nick’s last question. Even if his memories of Spinel were few and far between, he still had them, and he still had a completely understandable distaste for his former handler. It wasn’t - it wasn’t that Finn had fully forgiven Avalon for her actions, but he had a responsibility towards her that made him look past all that.
“Arkady’s in the shower,” he said. He could hear her singing, some Disney’s Greatest Hits medley. “Why do you ask?”
He nodded. “She offered to come,” he said. “I said yes. So… next time I feel up to going, she’ll come with me.” Now was not the time to confess that he’d feel more secure with Finn at his back, though he certainly would. He didn’t have to worry as much about Finn. Worrying about Tallulah, though, that was second nature. “I need to bring a light, next time,” he said. “I think…”
Nick rifled a hand through his hair, trailing off. “It makes me uneasy when I know she’s around but can’t see her,” he said. “I don’t like it.” It was so stupid. Arkady had a few awkward tics, true, but she was otherwise fairly sweet and harmless. “I know it’s stupid.”
With a sigh, he continued: “When we get back to Destiny City, will you come take a look, too? I… I’d feel better if you did.”
Silverah
Finn heard the water turn off in the next room. “She’s gonna want to come say hi if we’re still talking when she gets out of the bathroom,” he told Nick, “And I’m not sure that’s something you want.” Keeping Nick and Arkady separated just seemed like sound life choices - even if neither party could remember why they creeped the other out, just that they did.
“And yeah,” he added. “Of course I’ll take a look. Space travel’s one of my favorite things.” Even when it was space travel to questionably haunted planets. “Anyway, should we wrap this up? Arkady’s gonna be out any second.”
“And yeah,” he added. “Of course I’ll take a look. Space travel’s one of my favorite things.” Even when it was space travel to questionably haunted planets. “Anyway, should we wrap this up? Arkady’s gonna be out any second.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll let you go. Thanks, Finn.” Without waiting for a goodbye, or giving one himself, he hung up the call just as Arkady peeked into the room, long red hair trailing loose over one shoulder.
