paradisa | dictated | backdated to the 26th

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stephanie brown

dictated | backdated to the 26th

[Connor]

[As much as she wants to make a journal entry and get this over with, she knows Connor should be told beforehand, in person. The least she can do for him is ease him into it, and be there for whatever his reaction is. It's been rough for him lately, and she's sorry to add to it.

Once she's gathered herself and calmed down as much as she can, she filters to him.]

Where are you? We need to talk.

[public, sometime later]

[She wants to write, but her hands are too unsteady. Once, twice, she tries to hold a pen without even the tiniest of trembles, but she can't. Two weeks. That's all. Two weeks. She's been through this before a number of times. Two weeks. Instead of getting easier, it gets harder, and now she can't even control her hands.

That leaves her voice, but that too shakes.]

Cassandra Cain is dead.

Whatever is--[Her voice cracks, and there's an audible breath as she takes a moment to calm herself.]

Whatever is going on is serious and dangerous. Be alert. If anyone is acting off, stay away. For your own safety. There's at least one guy toting a shotgun and some crude shivs [so much disgust] on the loose.

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[Connor has been staying in the castle for the past few days; he usually spends his time in the woods but he's felt strange lately. Drowsy and not at all alert, and he worries for his safety climbing trees and stoking fires in this state.]

The second floor. [Oh -- but a sudden thought breaks through the haze, and now he's worried. Did she meet Haytham?]

What has happened?

I'll tell you when I get there. Won't be long.

[She was already on her way. And, of course, she knows where his room is, so the moment she's on the second floor she drags herself over to his room and knocks.

She looks a little disheveled, and not just her usual probably-just-rolled-out-of-bed sort.]

[Shivs and a shotgun. Joel had run off on her with the latter and returned without, and he always carried the former. Well, that certainly solved one mystery, one she'd been fuming over ever since Joel had returned, delusional as all hell and with broken hands.

Broken hands are a scary thing when you're a survivor. There's not much you can do with broken hands, and while Tess has Joel patched up and resting now, she has no patience or remorse for anyone who fucks with her partner. She's killed people for less, and she'd gladly do it again if it didn't look like Joel had done the job already. How he'd feel about it later was a different matter she could address when the time came –– as far as she's concerned, he killed in self-defense.

Those are the pieces she's put together, anyway.

Tess dictates too, largely because she is having a smoke on the balcony and like fuck she's going to multitask to write. Her voice is clipped, critical:]

You left out that she was killed out of self-defense. [Bitch.]

[Steph had added in that last part hoping someone would bite the bait. Either the person that killed Cass, or someone he knew. Steph knows what the castle can do to people better than most. Hell, how many times had she been stabbed or thrown around because someone was possessed or hallucinating?

She wants to think she would have been calm and civil if not for that fucking attitude.]

Bullshit. She wouldn't fight anyone at all unless it was necessary. Is your friend aware of what he did? Is that what he claimed?

[Tess takes bait all the time, because usually people who throw out bait don't know they're reeling in a shark instead of some fuckin' pond guppy. She sounds like it, too, given the tone of voice.]

You can play victim all you want, kid, but my partner always has a reason for doing things, same as me. The girl took responsibility for her actions, and she died for it. Tough luck.

[Is this for real? It's been a long, long time since Steph's gotten this sort of treatment from a stranger in Paradisa. It just about floors her. For several seconds she can't think of anything to say.

And then, she's angry.]

You think you're a real badass talking like that, don't you? Hiding behind a magical journal in your room somewhere.

[Just a laugh. Oh, christ. Then, a little sweeter and intentionally so:]

You picked the journal for your little PSA and left yourself wide open. But hey, if you wanted to talk in person, you just needed to ask.

God, if only I remembered to not leave myself open when warning the castle of some murderous man running around.

[She's going to knock out this woman's teeth. She doesn't feel bad about wanting a fight. It's something better to think about than her dead best friend's body.]

But hey, you have a good idea. Let's talk in person.

[You owe her an apology.]

Well to start, you could lose the judgmental bullshit where you think my partner went out with the intent of blowing away that girl.

[That girl who hangs out with pedophiles.]

Where are you? I'll finish my cigarette and see about joining you.

I think the castle fucked with him, and so I'm warning people. You're the one claiming my friend was the violent one in all of this when she--

[There goes her voice again.]

Pool. Don't show, and I'll find you.

[She's not there, not yet, but it's the closest and least populated place near the lobby. No one is going to go swimming when they're sleeping or dealing with hallucinating friends.]

This isn't a pool party. Death Match.

[Her rules. It always has to be her rules.

Tess takes her sweet-ass time, too. As much as she's in the mood for this, as much as people talking shit about her partner fires her up and makes her want to grind their teeth into the concrete at her feet for daring to fuck with what is hers, she takes her time. Things happen on Tess's schedule, especially when she's in this kind of mood.

And then, when she's good and ready and has left Joel with a kiss on the forehead and a topped-up drink, she heads down to the Death Match, gets herself a seat at the bar and orders herself a drink.]

Dramatic. Fine.

[Not her fault if this asshole gets a bottle to the face.

Steph gets there before Tess, and plants herself in the back corner. She thinks about drinking. She thinks about breaking things. She thinks about how the past few days could have gone entirely differently, and then maybe Cass wouldn't be dead and Steph wouldn't be here stupidly engaging in fights just because she thinks she'll feel better punching a person.

Even if the person really fucking deserves it at this point.

By the time Tess has arrived Steph's anger has settled into a calm, the scary sort that's just barely containing how pissed off she is, and she feels like Batgirl again, dwelling in the shadows. But Batgirl wouldn't stroll up to a woman sitting at a bar and reach out to knock over her newly arrived drink. That's all Stephanie Brown.]

Whoops.

[Tess has half a mind to just pull out her gun and put a bullet or two right into this girl's spinal column for even thinking about it, really, but when that hand comes out to knock her drink she just settles for reaching to lock her fingers around the girl's wrist.

She's young, something like half Tess's age, and that doesn't surprise Tess, given the age demographics here. It also doesn't surprise her because she heard the word "badass" out of the kid's mouth, and that word sounds like a foreign language to Tess. "Badass" are the kids she knew in high school, cutting class and feeling proud of themselves for daring to talk back or come up with something witty. There's nothing "badass" about Tess, not in the slightest –– she set aside those childish ideas when she became a career criminal, when she became the kind of person who wouldn't think twice about shooting a man for calling her a "bitch."

"Badasses", they're all talk.

Tess turns her eyes to Steph. Six months in Paradisa means she won't kill someone just for wasting a precious drink, like she would back in Boston, but it still grinds against her patience, her willingness to move on.]

Don't be so fucking rude.

[Rude. Rude. Steph laughs, moving to pull her arm back with what might be surprising force. Steph's average all around in height and build, muscle hidden beneath the loose black sweater (black seemed an appropriate color to wear), but she doesn't seem intimidated at all by this stranger. Even if she assumes this stranger will be packing heat, just like her partner.]

Yeah, no. I don't really think you have room to talk about rude. I was ready to be sympathetic towards this partner of yours, but you're making it really hard.

[Years of her lifestyle had worn dark circles under Tess's eyes, and time still hadn't passed fast enough to give her a truly filled out look –– she's lean, perhaps deceptively so, but she can mostly hide it under a long-sleeved jacket and jeans. What she lacks in size she makes up for in attitude, at least, and Tess has always found an advantage in straddling that line between looking defenseless and looking unpredictable. She's a survivor and they come in all types, after all.

She lets Steph with only a touch of resistance. She hasn't brawled with anyone here yet, and if this will be her first, then she's done an alright job by it.]

I'm not interested in sympathy. I'm interested in people getting what's due to them, and if laying it out for you clean is rude, then I'm fine by that.

[And then more pointed, after she takes a sip of her drink:]

Your friend made a mistake. She paid for it. I'm not going to have my partner branded as a villain for it.

[Steph doesn't think. She can't, not when getting what's due to them and she paid for it echo in her mind over and over in the half second that she stares at the absolute stranger before her.

She pulls back her fist and lets it fly at Tess' face.]

[ NO. You can tell she's upset, s he's not taking the time to write. ]

How is she dead? Who did this?

[You don't want to know.]

We'll find out.

Tell me. Tell me as soon as you know.

Yeah, I will. [No, she won't. This isn't a manhunt.]

[ Anne's not looking to kill anyone ~~yet~~. She just wants to know what the hell is going on and if she should be fearing for her own life. ]

I am sorry, I know she was dear to you. I will pray for her soul this next fortnight, and continue to seek the source of this calamity.

[Tess wanted a fight, so she picked one and got it.

Steph swings and she dodges, leaning out of her seat so her feet are back on the ground and her face is out of range –– nobody likes to start a fight with a broken nose right out of the gates, after all. And, since her glass is still in-hand, she swings back the moment she has space to, aiming to smash her in the head with it.

She never fought pretty.]

[He doesn't bother replying because there doesn't seem to be a need. So when she knocks on the door, he immediately opens it, having been standing there and waiting already.

A person would need to be blind not to see that something's amiss, so again he doesn't say anything, just steps aside and lets her in.]

[That gets a sigh. Crowley actually likes Cass, she's marginally entertaining as humans go.]

Sorry to hear it.

[No greetings, just Steph stepping into the room.]

I have bad news. You'll probably want to sit.

[Not that she thinks he'll fall to the floor or anything, but bad news is always better sitting. Or something.]

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dictated | backdated to the 26th

Stephanie

Connor

This Kid

This Chick

This Kid

This Chick

This Kid

This Chick

This Kid

This Chick

This Kid

This Chick, action

action

no subject

no subject

no subject

dictated;

dictated;

dictated;

dictated;

dictated;

no subject

action whoa

Steph

whooooaaa