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 Posted: Fri May 20, 2016 11:03 pm
. . . . Just need a friend . . . .
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Posted: Sun May 22, 2016 12:52 am
  Isabella sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. There was a series of champagne glasses sitting in front of her that ran from one end of the table to the other. They had varying amounts of liquid in them, some nearly empty, some nearly full. Slim shoulders remained hunched, despite the fact that she’d managed not to break any of the glasses so far. Her eyes were distant and touched with distinct sadness. She had a classic case of the blues that she couldn’t shake. A few people had already asked if someone had run over her dog…Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. It was worse.
Lola was gone.
Not completely, she reassured herself, as she swallowed a new bout of silent tears. She’d never realized how lonely and terrible the Tower could be when the Atlantean wasn’t there. Of course Isabella realized that the sea star had to visit home at some point or another… But that didn’t mean she couldn’t miss her. She was also a little jealous. The only home she had to go back to was Blüdhaven. The only person that missed her was Batgirl. Nightwing was around somewhere, but he always had his own agenda. While she thought them friends, she was fairly certain he regarded her as a puzzle that needed solving.
Cassandra Cain, Batgirl, was as close as Bella had to family, but it wasn’t exactly the same. She wanted to ignore her power exercises for the day and just mope in her room but Deacon had insisted she stay on top of things. Supposedly, training would take her mind off of her missing best friend. It hadn’t worked yet. Instead, she felt frustrated and defeated. Practicing the finer points of her ability wasn’t easy when her concentration kept waning…
Eventually she just found herself staring out the window. The sound user mindlessly caused the glasses to vibrate in front of her, at first, all of them singing at once. It was like nails on a chalk board. After a while she sorted through the chaos and found a grove. To her relief it tapered off into a soft lullaby. After quite abit of trial and error she figured out how to cause sound to propagate with a single longitudinal sonic wave. Her ability seemed exceedingly gentle as she caused a fairy-esque melody to ring through the kitchen. It could be gentle, she supposed.
So long as she didn’t speak.
The quiet woman pulled the song from the glasses with what appeared to be ease. She found the pattern in music comforting. It was predictable, in a world where everything was topsy turvey. Her foot tapped lightly on the floor to keep time, trying not to think about how Lola would have enjoyed this. Anything new and interesting made her happy.
Light spilled freely through the kitchen windows causing her usually dark hair to take on a reddish tint. She wore a pale pink sundress that was made more for comfort than fighting. Some of the women in the Tower wouldn’t agree with her choice to forgo armor in exchange for ballet flats, but that was neither here nor there. She wasn’t fighting. To be truthful, she didn’t feel like a fighter at all.
But Deacon assured her that she was. Sometimes, when her body began to move on its own, she almost believed him. The dress she wore stopped a few inches above the knee, fitting, and accented with bits of retro eyelet lace around the hem. Sheer cap sleeves and a lowered back would have revealed the edges of a tattoo, were in not for silken waves of hair that kept it secret. A sweetheart neckline led the eye to a rather intricate looking metallic necklace. It seemed gaudier than everything else she was wearing and a little out of place. It definitely suggested that she hadn’t picked it out herself.
Deacon had supplied her with it. The acoustium it was made from was supposed to keep her from blowing someone’s head off if she sneezed. She still hadn’t tested it. The Tower was full of harsh things and menacing warriors…But she wasn’t like some of the others. Especially not the League members that had been around for a long time. Her memories were all but gone. She didn’t bare the scars of war. She knew her name, knew who she was, knew right from wrong… But she couldn’t remember anything that mattered. Friends and family were lost to her. Faceless, nameless people. Bitterly, she wondered if they even knew she was missing. Did she even have anyone to miss her?
Her expression grew even more pensive if possible. She felt guilty now. Batgirl and Nightwing had given her a safe place to stay and a roof over her head. She shouldn’t be so wistful for people that had never come looking for her. It was best to appreciate what she had, and to forget the rest.
Still… Her heart ached for that special place everyone called home. She felt out of place in the Tower. Everyone seemed to have a purpose, but her.
Color
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Posted: Sun May 22, 2016 10:29 pm
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Posted: Tue Jun 14, 2016 8:38 pm
Isabella didn’t really expect anyone else to come around. The kitchen was a popular place but without Lola she felt entirely alone. Nightwing was off doing the vigilante justice things that someone from the Bat Family apparently did and Karmen was busy in the garage with Aiden. The apparently charming cryokinetic didn’t seem to like her very much so she gave him a wide berth. Deacon was busy doing leader stuff and everyone else seemed to have their own thing going on. She wished that her sea star would come back already. It was going to be a long week.
The sound user heard Mason approaching long before he arrived but didn’t bother lifting her head out of her arms. He asked what she was doing and she picked up the slim cellular that had provided to her when Superman had ‘requested’ her presence. Sometimes she carried it, sometimes she didn’t, it just depended on if she remembered or not. It didn’t help that she was miserably slow with the keyboard. Mason tapped one of the glasses which interrupted the vibration and caused the tone to go flat. Bella shot him a dirty look as the note made her wince before she evened it out. The voice from the text to speech app eventually chimed in. “I’m practicing not blowing things up.”
“Deacon said I should learn moderation.”, the phone explained, very much so incorrectly pronouncing Phantom’s name. It sounded more like Deek-Kon than anything else.
Mason asked if she was all right and she let her hand that held the phone fall to her lap. She nodded her head in the affirmative as emerald eyes swept low. Maybe she could fool him if he didn’t pay much attention. Lying was not her strong suit. It was a trait Nightwing frequently abused and found a certain amount of hilarity from. It was cute when she tried, but more often than not she got caught.
There was only one secret she had managed to keep.
When Mason teasingly mentioned that perhaps she’d run everyone off she sank further into herself. Little fingers typed a reply that sounded even more pathetic coming from an unfeeling machine. “Maybe I have.”
The small woman began to blink rapidly as she blearily rose up from the chair and the song abruptly stopped. She picked up two of the glasses and made her way to the sink to dump them out. From there she began to load them into the commercial sized dishwasher one by one. It wasn’t Mason’s fault she felt so low and crummy. It wasn’t even the fact that Lola was away—not really.
It was her memories, or lack thereof. They had more holes than swiss cheese. It had been bothering her more and more ever since their little experience with a PR stunt. In the museum she’d discovered a few things about herself that she didn’t like. It made her feel more out of place than she ever had before. She felt like she was unraveling… Losing grip of everything real. It couldn’t be healthy to question existence day after day. Some psychiatrist would have a field day with her.
On one of her rapid trips from the sink to the table she fumbled with one of the glasses and watched it fall in what fell like slow motion. The dark haired woman immediately cringed and looked away, the sound of it breaking causing her to take an involuntary step back. She stared at the broken shards that had scattered across the kitchen floor and couldn’t find the will to do anything about it. The expression on her face said it all.
‘s**t.’
Color
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Posted: Sun Jun 26, 2016 10:30 am
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Posted: Wed Jun 29, 2016 8:55 pm
Isabella felt bad for giving Mason such a dirty look when he interrupted the song she pulled from the glasses. It had been reflex at hearing one note clash incorrectly with the rest. To be honest, he was lucky she hadn’t shattered the glasses. Sound was more delicate that it appeared, especially when she was weaving it from nothing.
The young woman didn’t catch Mason’s distaste for Deacon, though it wouldn’t have surprised her. She had long ago picked up on the general tension between team members. It was impossible not to notice, especially when Nightwing made his opinions very clear. It was odd to her that for a man so quiet and scarcely seen—she could guess at his thoughts fairly accurately.
At least in regards to Phantom. Other things…She was entirely clueless.
“He tries.”, came the response, all too robotic. She hated using her phone like this to voice things that she would rather say. But what choice did she have? Use the app, or blow someone apart from the inside? Since she was a creature with a conscience the choice was simple. Just annoying. Isabella wasn’t sure she always agreed with Deacon…But she believed his heart to be in the right place. “And he cares. Even if it doesn’t always seem like it.”
Living on her own in Blüdhaven had taught her how rare a quality that was. She’d gone from needing to constantly look over her shoulder, to having a small group of super powered people that seemed to actually care about her best interests. It was a strange feeling. Especially once she’d figured out exactly who Superman was. It had been humbling to read about his adventures and world saving escapades and still know that he would deign to speak to a little nobody like her.
Mason questioned the validity of her little white lie and her head ducked lower as a blush stole up her neck. She was glad to have tanned skin, so it didn’t normally show unless she got really, really embarrassed. When the tall man mentioned running people off… Her frail façade fell to pieces. She swallowed hard as she stood, not realizing that Mason was about to sit down, small hands immediately grabbing glasses to take to the sink. When she got upset she felt the need to do something mindless. Whether it was cleaning, painting, running, or playing a new song… So long as it served as a distraction she could manage.
She paused briefly when she realized that her teammate was following her—Helping. She bit her lip cut carried on. He seemed to mean well…He just caught her at a bad time. For the most part, she could hide how much her predicament bothered her by not thinking about it. But it always seemed to creep up when she least expected it. When she dropped the glass, she was half tempted to mute the sound.
If no one heard it… Did that still mean it was broken?
Her quandary disappeared when Mason brushed by her to clean up the mess. His kind smile made her feel like a jerk for being so moody. Her eyes widened a little bit when he turned into iron. It gave her a feeling of déjà vu that she couldn’t place. While Mason finished cleaning up her mess, she tip toed around him to get her phone. She couldn’t reply without it. “Thank you.”
“Don’t say it like that. I’m sure you’re good for a lot of things.”
After she bumped the dishwasher closed with her hip Mason caught her off guard. She remembered giving him her name once…But she hadn’t really expected anyone to remember it. She was seen and not heard, after all. His tone rang in her ears a little clearer than it might for someone without her gifts. There was no sarcasm, no ill will… Just concern.
When he called out her fibbing she blushed worse than before, cheeks turning a little pink. As usual, her eyes found the floor. She wasn’t sure about letting others see her weakness. Was it safe? It hadn’t been safe in Blüdhaven. Nothing was safe in that city. She shuffled her feet a little bit as she turned on her cellular again, typing slowly. She wasn’t sure if she could trust him…But part of her wanted to. To have friends, to have a connection with the world she lived it, it felt like everything. “Lola went home to visit her family.”
That wasn’t much of an excuse… If he was as perceptive as he seemed to be, he’d know it was more than that. What could she say that would explain every awful thing that was eating away at her? That she suspected she might not be a good person? That she had no family, no home? That she couldn’t remember where she was from or where she grew up? That she could kill someone if she spoke? That she HAD killed someone?
“I’m alone.”
Her eyes never rose from the floor. It felt horrible to admit. It made her heart ache to say it out loud. Even that wasn’t the worst of it…The next part was what she really feared. Her eyes watered and stung against her will… But Deacon would never hear it. He didn’t think she was anything but the gentle girl he had come to know.
“And I’m dangerous.”
Color
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Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2016 11:28 pm
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Posted: Thu Aug 04, 2016 9:18 pm
Isabella didn’t really catch on how much Mason disliked Deacon until right about then. She knew that there was a dissatisfied general consensus among her peers—but for the life of her couldn’t figure out why. Phantom had been nothing but kind to her since her arrival. She didn’t know what happened before save some less than polite whispers she couldn’t help but hear. The small woman felt an inexplicable need to stand up for someone that seemed to be placed in a position of power without the proper qualifications. Leading a group of metahuman fighters seemed like it would be hard even if he had a lot of experience.
It was not a position she envied. To have someone looking at her all the time? Waiting for instructions and orders that could backfire and get someone killed?
No thank you.
When Mason commented that Deacon cared about something, she was curious. Her head tilted to ask the obvious question of ‘What’ he was referring to. He didn’t seem to want to go one about it and ended the dialogue by admitting he was glad to be with Savanna. Isabella had never really met her save to see her from across a crowded room. Little fingers keyed her response slowly, a little afraid that she had upset him. He seemed a little peeved. Whether it was with her or not she couldn’t tell. “She seems… Nice. Pretty. Fashionable.”
Didn’t guys like attractive fashionable girls? Was it too much to hope for that such silly reasons were why he preferred Savanna to Deacon? Probably, but still. Isabella felt bad for letting negative opinions of Deacon perpetuate. Everyone made mistakes. It would take time for him to grow from nothing into something. Isabella really hoped that it was sooner versus later. Surely he’d do better next time…
Mason cleaned up the mess she made without hesitation and she found herself shuffling about—A little embarrassed as she finished loading the dishwasher. Her uncomfortable expression only worsened when he asked her for a second time what was bothering her. In retrospect, she should have just bit her tongue and let it be. But once the little robotic voice recited what she’d typed…She couldn’t take it back.
The tall man grumbled about being a ‘nobody’ and she felt her eyes widen when his arms crossed. Immediately she felt guilty for being so insensitive and shook her head—already typing away. “That isn’t what I meant. I’m sorry.”
Of course he was someone. But he had a life, memories, and a purpose. She didn’t. She was nobody. Nothing and no one. If she disappeared in that exact moment…Aside from Lola…Who would really miss her? Would Deacon even realize she was gone unless she didn’t show up for a training session? Would Nightwing notice if he didn’t have to save her all the time?
It was doubtful.
Her eyes found the floor very interesting while he processed the rest of her statements. Mason tried to soften the blow in regards to her being a danger and she forced a small well-mannered smile. It was fragile, lovely, and fake. Especially when he mentioned a support group. She took it as him teasing versus being super cranky. He couldn’t be serious about that.
Mason would be disappointed to hear that he was more like Deacon than he thought. So Isabella didn’t say it. Both were so used to being surrounded by supers that they couldn’t see the difference between powerful people and dangerous people. The sound user was afraid of herself. She’d seen glimpses of the violence she was capable of. It left her petrified, nauseated. “…It’s not the same…”
“Most people have a choice in who they are. It's hard to explain. But I don’t think I do.”
She’d held a reporter in a submission hold that could have easily broken his arm at the Museum without realizing it. If Deacon hadn’t of been there… She would have hurt him. Isabella lashed out sometimes and didn’t know what she was doing or why. There was no reason for it. What if that forgotten part of her took over and decided to whisper in a room full of people? What if she brought down a building? What if what happened in Blüdhaven happened again?
“You’re all trying to be better. To be heroes.”
Isabella could try all she wanted. That didn’t make it the truth.
Mason suggested that she might have needed a break from the Tower. Without Lola all of her insecurities seemed to be bubbling to the surface in an effort to drive her crazy. Training with Deacon felt like some kind of futile joke that she could never find the meaning of. What was the use in training her when she couldn’t control what she did? Physically, she reacted. That was it.
“Maybe I do.”
Except that she didn’t know where to go. She knew next to nothing in Metropolis and Blüdhaven wasn’t exactly a place to go vacationing unless you brought a small arsenal. She brought her phone back up again as another thought occurred to her. “I don’t think Superman would let me.”
It wasn’t safe for her to be around normal people unattended.
Color
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Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2016 12:44 pm
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Posted: Wed Nov 02, 2016 4:39 pm
Isabella was curious about what Mason wasn’t saying to her but it was clear he wasn’t going to elaborate. Emerald eyes hit the floor when the dark haired man referred to Savanna as a ‘b***h’ even though he didn’t seem to mean it as an insult. It was such a harsh word. Of course she’d heard it a million times in Blüdhaven but she hadn’t liked it any better then. Her fingers ran across the keys of her cell phone slowly. There always seemed to be something Mason wasn’t saying. Especially when it came to Deacon. “It’s good that you trust her. That’s important.”
For the hundredth time all she could was wonder exactly what Deacon had done. Where had he failed his team so miserably that they all seemed to harbor some sort of distrust or distaste? When she’d first seen Glacier give him a hard time, it seemed normal. He didn’t seem to like her much either. But it wasn’t just Aiden. It was literally everyone. She didn’t want to ask anyone else for fear of gossip and she didn’t want to ask Deacon for fear of upsetting him. He’d been good to her. It didn’t seem right.
He had done for her what Mason was doing for her now. Cleaning up her mess.
Isabella’s eyes self-consciously found the floor again when Mason told her not to apologize for the ‘nobody’ comment. She wasn’t sure what to take seriously around here. Between Lola being so very literal, and Dahlia being so very angry…Who knew?
He was sympathetic enough to listen while she tried to make sense of what was bothering her. His response made her heart sink further into the pit of their stomach. ‘People are who they are’ might have reassured someone else, but not her. Isabella turned away so that he wouldn’t see her fear quite so easily and went to the refrigerator. After hunting for a moment she picked up a couple cans of soda-pop and brought one to the iron man.
Mason, in an almost Superman-esque fashion, reminded her that trying was all they could do. The salt and pepper haired Kryptonian had given her a similar speech when she’d been reluctant to join his Junior Justice league. There had been a few more footnotes above having hope…But essentially, it was the same bullet points. She opened her cherry cola and took a sip as she leaned back against the countertop. Phone in one hand she typed carefully, little nose scrunching up when she had to fix a typo. Text-to-speech was merciless with typo’s. “I’m just so frustrated… I know that everyone has issues and problems but I can’t do anything about something I can’t remember or control.”
“And on top of everything—Deacon wants me to speak.”
That terrified Isabelle more than anything else. Enough that she slipped up, breaking the illusion that she was mute. Deacon didn’t know what had happened the last time but she would never forget it. If it wasn’t for Nightwing she’d definitely be in jail somewhere right now.
His suggestion that they leave the tower was sounding better and better. Not only could she see a little bit of the world, but maybe she could clear her head. And escape Deacon’s voice test a little while longer. “He probably is…But his hearing is even better than mine. He always used to find me before I came here.”
She’d seen Superman do some ridiculous things while under his care. She’d tried to sneak away a half dozen times to look for Nightwing and had gotten caught before her hand even touched the doorknob. While he assured her that he didn’t have telepathy—Isabella wasn’t so sure. He seemed to know everything before it happened. There was a reason he could arrive at a bank robbery before anyone else knew what was going on. “But…All we can do is try….Right?”
It was her way of saying she’d like to try and get out of the Tower. She wanted to be anywhere but here. Mason smiled and she looked shyly down at her hands. He wanted to know where she wanted to go? What about where he wanted to go? Biting a little bit on her lower lip she began to type again but this time brought Mason her phone so he could see the screen. It displayed a poster for a carnival just outside of Metropolis. It was childish and silly but…That’s where she wanted to go.
Color
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