this is the first of her incarnations that shows any sign of recognising other people are real. usually the Master tends to think of everyone not him as cardboard backdrop.
proud and brittle and angry isn't exactly new, but there's never been anything underneath it but a black hole of ego.
she got quite pissy when i invoked Bechdel's law, but i think I had to.
It's not like they haven't spent time together since Barbara's return - Iris was especially limpetlike after the Mirror thing - but it hasn't been particularly conversational.
Today Iris comes in and folds herself onto the floor, resting her head in Barbara's lap.
Iris hasn't felt this cherished in what feels like forever - cherished without debt or strings, a quiet place of trust and safety. She breathes it in for a moment before she speaks.
"Not yet, no. I saw 'im on the network and I knew I'd wind 'im up if I tried. So I didn't try. I'm still a bit weird about vampires, for one, and I can't say I'm much better with old immortal dictators."
She doesn't allude to it aloud, but she's quietly pleased about that. Seven years of Barge have taught Iris a lot about when to sit down and shut up. She slants a glance up at Babs.
"I s'pose I'll 'ave to, now. What's 'e teaching you, anyway? What's 'e like?"
She hums amused acceptance, and there's a note of her own silent pride in there, too. The Barge has taught both of them so much.
"The plan is 'everything he knows', which is apparently quite a bit; his library back home rivals the Barge's." There's some downright giddiness in her voice, which is...refreshing. She'd felt so ground down when she came back, and the circumstances did the opposite of helping. Just being in Iris' presence has worked to brighten her, steady her, but there's no denying the new layers of loss and bitterness. "He's jaded. Gentle in the kind of way only people capable of immense brutality can be. Imperious, yeah, but polite about it."
She's quiet, for a moment, not quite hesitant but not quite certain, either. "In some ways he reminds me of Bruce. In others he reminds me of Aslan." With a wryly wistful smile, "He made me promise not to be his warden, so I wouldn't be saddled with a lost cause."
"Bet that won't take you long," she says, but it's almost reflexive; this is just Iris' mouth reaching for an easy compliment while her brain chews over the important information.
"Hmmm. I s'pose I might not hate 'im, then. I'm 'aving a lot of unhelpful feelings 'ere, my love. Mostly along the lines of 'ow I'll tear the throat out of anyone that patronises you. Except 'e's an inmate, and I loved Aslan almost as much as you did, and jaded and gentle and capable of immense brutality sounds like a lot of the people I fall in love with. So it's probably all right."
She sighs.
"I'll 'ave to go meet 'im, I s'pose. What should I wear?"
Nah. And I know we talked about this before, kind of, I just--
[Wanted to see if more time and exposure would change her tune. It's not often that people come back after such a long absence, and while she's undeniably happy about it, it has left her reeling a bit.]
-- anyway. Cain would be disappointed in me, but I think that'd be, like, unavoidable.
[She'll head over a few minutes later to wait, looking weary and a little bit bruised up, but not unhappy. Barbara will get a smile when she arrives.]
I meant it, though; I wanna hear about what's on your mind, too. I wasn't always good at asking about that the first time you were here, and I gotta make up for lost time.
Cal and Nico are not the worst that Weathering has to offer by far, but they're not good either. Never really had a chance, most would say. Not surprising at all they'd turn out the way they did. If only their family hadn't died out on the trail. If only they'd stayed at the orphanage. If only -
Cal is perfectly fine with where she's at because she's always known she could have been much worse off if not for Nico. It means she's been aware of Barbara most of both of their lives, but she's never really tried to be friends because that would get super awkward when Sheriff Gordon would have to try to arrest Cal.
But Sheriff Gordon will never try to arrest anyone again, and Cal knows exactly what that feels like. It's why she turns up in the street outside, throwing pebbles at a window with one hand, a bottle of liquor in the other.
Barbara is curled up in her father's favourite armchair, turning his hat around and around in her hands and glaring at nothing in particular. It's not the first time she's felt this hollow, this lost; losing her mother was a sudden, shocking blow that shattered her world.
But that had been an accident, and her father had been there to hold her through the grief, strong and steady even as he wept himself. She was young enough to grow around the wound, to move on from the simple, callous unfairness of it all. She wasn't overwhelmed with such desperate, ragged fury.
The little plinks against the window are enough to throw her to her feet, almost vibrating with adrenaline. When she sees Callisto she relaxes slightly; the siblings had always kept their distance, but frankly that was understandable. ("There's a difference," Jim Gordon had once said, "between people out to cause hurt for the hell of it and people just trying to get by.")
It's still probably a risk, but why does that even matter, anymore? So she shoves the window up and sticks her head out, peering down with wary curiosity.
"You out to share?" Her voice is heavy and hoarse from hours of sobbing and shouting in turns. No one, so far, has had any answers worth a damn.
In all honesty, Cal is a little startled that Barbara answered at all, and she takes two quick steps back. Then she raises both eyebrows.
"Well I'm never out to share, but I thought... Maybe just this once it'd just about be okay." There's still a note of uncertainty in her voice but she raises the bottle, shakes it a bit for emphasis, in invitation.
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bodilesswarrior) wrote2023-08-15 05:50 am
Last Voyages Timeline
[From the background - ] Soon! We'll get back to you soon.
[Barbara huffs, something between a laugh and a sigh.] Dinah will make sure we get back to you soon.
[Hey, her other girlfriend has a time machine.]
[crossdimensional IM]
only the sodding master again
except she goes by Missy now
just look at her
[attached is a snap of Missy in the barge pub, wearing a hat covered in berries and a rather shellshocked expression.]
i have a lot of feelings about this
love to D
also your horrible moggy says hi
[attached: a snap of Jonesy up on deck, disdainfully riding the Imperial mouse droid that Han and Iris stole to poop-scoop the deck and greenhouse.]
[crossdimensional IM]
[Yes, Barbara types in perfect grammar even doing a one-handed IM while she repairs Jason's cowl.]
My horrible moggy is a queen and she clearly knows it.
[crossdimensional IM]
she's so proud and so brittle and so angry and I just want to scoop her up and cuddle her till she stops biting.
i'd always felt this was one of those people not capable of graduating, but i think i was wrong.
[crossdimensional IM]
[Yeah, Iris is definitely doomed.]
I've been proven wrong myself enough times.
[crossdimensional IM]
this is the first of her incarnations that shows any sign of recognising other people are real. usually the Master tends to think of everyone not him as cardboard backdrop.
proud and brittle and angry isn't exactly new, but there's never been anything underneath it but a black hole of ego.
she got quite pissy when i invoked Bechdel's law, but i think I had to.
[crossdimensional IM]
But no, I know what you mean. It can't be about him. Maybe later, once you've spent more time together.
[crossdimensional IM]
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Today Iris comes in and folds herself onto the floor, resting her head in Barbara's lap.
"What's this about you and Dracula?"
[spam]
"I've bagged myself a teacher. You've met him?" Her voice is brimming with tender excitement.
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"Not yet, no. I saw 'im on the network and I knew I'd wind 'im up if I tried. So I didn't try. I'm still a bit weird about vampires, for one, and I can't say I'm much better with old immortal dictators."
She doesn't allude to it aloud, but she's quietly pleased about that. Seven years of Barge have taught Iris a lot about when to sit down and shut up. She slants a glance up at Babs.
"I s'pose I'll 'ave to, now. What's 'e teaching you, anyway? What's 'e like?"
[spam]
"The plan is 'everything he knows', which is apparently quite a bit; his library back home rivals the Barge's." There's some downright giddiness in her voice, which is...refreshing. She'd felt so ground down when she came back, and the circumstances did the opposite of helping. Just being in Iris' presence has worked to brighten her, steady her, but there's no denying the new layers of loss and bitterness. "He's jaded. Gentle in the kind of way only people capable of immense brutality can be. Imperious, yeah, but polite about it."
She's quiet, for a moment, not quite hesitant but not quite certain, either. "In some ways he reminds me of Bruce. In others he reminds me of Aslan." With a wryly wistful smile, "He made me promise not to be his warden, so I wouldn't be saddled with a lost cause."
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"Hmmm. I s'pose I might not hate 'im, then. I'm 'aving a lot of unhelpful feelings 'ere, my love. Mostly along the lines of 'ow I'll tear the throat out of anyone that patronises you. Except 'e's an inmate, and I loved Aslan almost as much as you did, and jaded and gentle and capable of immense brutality sounds like a lot of the people I fall in love with. So it's probably all right."
She sighs.
"I'll 'ave to go meet 'im, I s'pose. What should I wear?"
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No. I'm not, and I don't. [ She just says it, simple and steady and sure. ]
What brought this on? Did something happen?
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[Wanted to see if more time and exposure would change her tune. It's not often that people come back after such a long absence, and while she's undeniably happy about it, it has left her reeling a bit.]
-- anyway. Cain would be disappointed in me, but I think that'd be, like, unavoidable.
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[Which is a mean feat for Tiffany.]
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Ah, Barge life. Why did she miss it again? (So many reasons.) ]
Anywhere in particular?
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I wanna hear how things are going for you, too.
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I'll bring cocoa.
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[She'll head over a few minutes later to wait, looking weary and a little bit bruised up, but not unhappy. Barbara will get a smile when she arrives.]
I meant it, though; I wanna hear about what's on your mind, too. I wasn't always good at asking about that the first time you were here, and I gotta make up for lost time.
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Pre- House Record Port
Cal is perfectly fine with where she's at because she's always known she could have been much worse off if not for Nico. It means she's been aware of Barbara most of both of their lives, but she's never really tried to be friends because that would get super awkward when Sheriff Gordon would have to try to arrest Cal.
But Sheriff Gordon will never try to arrest anyone again, and Cal knows exactly what that feels like. It's why she turns up in the street outside, throwing pebbles at a window with one hand, a bottle of liquor in the other.
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But that had been an accident, and her father had been there to hold her through the grief, strong and steady even as he wept himself. She was young enough to grow around the wound, to move on from the simple, callous unfairness of it all. She wasn't overwhelmed with such desperate, ragged fury.
The little plinks against the window are enough to throw her to her feet, almost vibrating with adrenaline. When she sees Callisto she relaxes slightly; the siblings had always kept their distance, but frankly that was understandable. ("There's a difference," Jim Gordon had once said, "between people out to cause hurt for the hell of it and people just trying to get by.")
It's still probably a risk, but why does that even matter, anymore? So she shoves the window up and sticks her head out, peering down with wary curiosity.
"You out to share?" Her voice is heavy and hoarse from hours of sobbing and shouting in turns. No one, so far, has had any answers worth a damn.
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"Well I'm never out to share, but I thought... Maybe just this once it'd just about be okay." There's still a note of uncertainty in her voice but she raises the bottle, shakes it a bit for emphasis, in invitation.
"Was I right?"