ʂէɾąղցҽ ąղժ մղմʂմąӀ

“After my mom died, I discovered I was different. I could snatch the abilities of any magic-user in the world. No user-manual necessary.”

LORI ZECHLIN | BLACK ALICE | 24 YRS OLD | MAGIC USER

Lori would never claim to be mature. 

At her best, she was cynical and aloof. As a result, when she caught a glimpse of the nine-year-old boy in her compact as she applied a generous coat of eyeliner to her upper lid, she narrowed her glare and held it.  And she wondered why she didn’t have any friends. She did have one friend, as difficult as it was for her to admit. Though friend was perhaps an overly generous title for the strange kinship Lori and the boy she met in an alley had formed. Most of their interactions were a combination of impressively casual baleful banter and begrudged admittance to things they had in common, much like the first time they uttered words of disdain towards one another. Even so, she sat there waiting for him, as if going on outings with other people was a common occurrence for her.

Lori was usually content to hole up in her rented attic space, with Baba curled in her lap and something depressing blasting through her speakers. But she'd been concentrating on her training lately. Since she no longer had an advisor, she had to work even harder to master her craft on her own. Unfortunately, this meant learning all the boring shit. Meditation being her current mortal enemy. Despite the fact that she and Zatanna were no longer on speaking terms, she was confident her former mentor would be pleased to learn she was focusing less on siphoning magic from others and more on harnessing her own.

“You’re late,”

Zatanna had never envisioned herself becoming anyone’s mentor. These training sessions with Lori had triggered many flashbacks of her own training with her father and she hoped she was doing him proud. She could still remember his warmth and guidance when her frustration got the best of her and her temper spilled out in waves. Not that her temper was anything like the young witch’s before her. She knew she was playing with fire the moment she drew back the curtains but it was a familiar fight by now.

“It’s the time you set your alarm for.” she replied calmly, unwavering at the barrage of foul language and yelling. For someone who didn’t like mornings, Lori could sure be loud. She raised a brow as the other woman flashed the alarm clock at her before continuing to rage about the scheduled wake up call. Oh so it was going to be one of those days.

“If you’re done, I brought you breakfast.” She proceeded to walk back towards the kitchen and with a flick of her wrist, opened every window and shade within the place to let the beautiful morning light come streaming in. By the way the other was reacting you’d think she would melt in the sunlight.

“Oh and I would like to see you try. The whole point of these trainings is because you can’t do that just yet.” she flashed her a smile before picking up a to go cup of coffee and taking a sip of the warm liquid.

☠

Just like she was sure Z was aware, she did visibly perk up at the mention of breakfast. Albeit begrudgingly, one arm hung over her eyes as more light flooded the room and chased away the last stubbornly lingering remnants of sleep. With a groan, she lifted her bicep and squinted into the bright light like it was genuinely blinding her. “You should have led with breakfast,” she grumbled, rubbing the morning gunk from the corner of her eyes. Yesterday's dark red lipstick she was too lazy to remove the night before smeared around the edges of her mouth. She could have very well tapped into the magical residue that always lingered behind Z and shut the curtains again, but she knew there was no use. Plus, she’d made a vow to the more seasoned witch that she would never siphon her power without her consent. Even if Zatanna’s magic was likely the most addicting essence she’d ever encountered. 

With a sigh, Lori swung her legs over the side of the bed, raising onto her toes and whipping her shirt off all in one moment. It landed on top of one of the many piles of discarded things littered on her bedroom floor, where it would remain until she was compelled to locate it again. Though Z frowned at the disarray, Lori enjoyed her room just the way it was. Parts of the floor were stacked high with rubbish, others were covered with underwear and shoes, and the walls were plastered with strange posters of thing she was interested in. Everything was organized in its own beautifully chaotic way. She plucked a black sweater from the nearest clothes pile and buried her nose in it to make sure it was clean before yanking it on.

Delicate disposition, my ass. "When animals understand curses more than anything, chances are they were abused and that’s why that’s all they get. That’s not an excuse to be an asshole so just say you’re a dick and be done with it.” It’s not like Damian was a saint - after a decade of having Jason Todd and Tim Drake for elder brothers, he swore as badly as the rest of them. But never at an animal.

“Strange is only subjective to its societal context,” he countered, “and in Metropolis,” his lip curled at the name of the city (he was a Wayne, he would always be a Gothamite), “neither of us are exactly the norm.”

He was glad his knives were strapped to the back of his belt, concealed by his long coat, because it took everything in him to not draw his blades. “I’d like to see you try.” His voice dropped, his words laced with venom. He was quickly confused at the mention of virgins, however. It took him a moment to discern the joke from what she might actually be capable of. Whoops. Oh, well. He was from Gotham - how was he supposed to know she wasn’t actively participating in human sacrifice?

“We’re heading to the vets too. The cat needs a check-up.” He added, keeping his focus on the creature in his hands. 20 years old and he still couldn’t talk to people normally, without arguing, to save his life. “I hope she feels better, Baba after the appointment, that is.”

☠

With a cynical quirk of her black painted lips, she pushed the shades nestled in her hair back over her eyes and tilted her head. “I’m a dick” she mockingly recited, rolling her eyes at how juvenile the dialogue was becoming. Not that she wasn't contributing to it with her childish quips and defensive body language. Lori wasn't sure she'd ever butted heads so fiercely – or so immediately – with anybody else. Not that she wasn’t usually this sarcastically abrasive. It was part of her charm. She just didn't meet many people who could match her snark comeback for comeback and admittedly, albeit reluctantly, it was putting her out. 

“Take a chill pill, Snow White” she huffed. Lori did agree with him on one thing at least; they definitely didn’t fit into the conventional Metropolis aesthetic. She’d seen the looks she got on the bus ride into town. Their eyes flitting from her dark clothes and make up, to the piercings that littered her ears and face to the heavy metal they could ear blaring through her earphones. Naturally she stared them down until they ceased their bold gawking in embarrassment. Even the hero they chose to exalt was a perfect, red and blue puzzle piece to their picturesque representation. Personally, she found Superman a little boring. What was the fun in a superhero who had virtually no weakness?

He rolled his eyes, forcing back a sigh as he glowered at the goth. "If it’s such common knowledge, then why didn’t you try that first? Y'know, instead of just swearing at the animal who was probably already scared.”

His brows quirked up at the ferret’s odd, yet somehow fitting, name. “Baba Yaga, Slavic witch with a house on chicken legs. Strange name for a ferret.” He bundled the shivering tabby in one of his shirts, cradling her close to his chest as he got up from the ground. He had studied maps of the city extensively, the nearest veterinary clinic not far from them. It also had a free care for those without income, which unfortunately now included Damian and the cat.

Still scowling, he looked her up and down, unimpressed. “That depends. Are you going to sacrifice us now, or it that just an unfortunate fashion choice?”

☠

She couldn’t help it. 

Her nose wrinkled in response to the glowered rebuke, followed by a highly unladylike scoff of amusement. Baba Yaga? Scared? Ha! Lori glanced down at the furry creature's beady eyed stare, and though she couldn't always read the expression on her bristly features, she believed they shared the same look of amusement. That ferrett had balls of steel and a penchant for mischief, and Lori was positive her short escape was based solely on the chance of irritating her owner above anything. “This is a street ferret. She only understands me if I’m swearing like a sailor,” she drawled instead of voicing her thoughts. “But so sorry to offend your delicate disposition”

Lori was surprised that he recognized the allusion to her ferret's name. But, only just. "Strange is a subjective term," she countered mildly. This kid had a bad attitude, and she was normally thrilled to meet someone who was as willfully disgruntled as she was. But she was on the defensive, her witchy senses not so much warning her off but rather urging her to stay cautious. Besides, she never backed down from a verbal challenge. If it was a snark battle he wanted, she’d be happy to oblige.

Are you going to sacrifice us now....

Keeping close to the shadows, Damian pulled his mask over his nose, concealing his face. An upside to being in the metropolitan was that people just thought he was conscientious about cold and flu. They just didn’t want to be rude, so no longer did the people of this city stare at those who chose to hide their faces. It was useful for both vigilantes and criminals. If he was honest, he didn’t quite know which he was, this time.

He watched in silence as the girl traipsed in, cooing profanities at her pet. Still not the weirdest thing in Metropolis. The ferret scuttled away as a scarred young cat padded towards him, pawing at his backpack. His backpack which currently held cat treats. A small smile playing at his lips, he shook his head and kneeled, gently stroking the street cat’s head. The cat’s tail swished and hit a plastic bag filled with empty cans, the rattle spooking the ferret.

The girl spun to face him, her growl spooking the cat away. “Damnit-” He levelled a glare at the stranger, growling back at her, “you scared the cat away.” Sighing, he opened his backpack, keeping the contents out of her sight as he pulled out a packet of cat treats. “Just be quiet for a moment, if you want your ferret back, that is.” Tearing it open and shaking a few into his hand, he tutted, calling for the small creatures. After a tentative minute, they crept from the rubble, giving each other wide berth as they came for the food. “You were saying?”

☠

Cat? What fucking cat-

Infuriated, Lori's lips quirked as she tried to hold back the torrent of expletives that sought to fall out of her mouth at his insolent request. It didn't matter that his advise, albeit delivered coarsely, was probably sound advice. But she'd never taken kindly to someone telling her what to do. From behind her circular red shades, she watched the boy coax the separate animals with a fiercely unimpressed expression, her eyes narrowed at the disloyal little furball easing its way down the alleyway towards a total stranger. Traitor.

“Congratulations, Dr Dolittle,” she huffed, her tone dripping heavy with every ounce of derision she could muster. ”You just might be the first person to discover most animals will come at the promise of food. Truly, I’m so lucky to have witnessed such ingenuity” she rose her hands to give a slow clap to to emphasize her point.

Tapping her chunky combat boot, she waited until her ferret was close enough and swiftly scooped it into her arms. "You enjoy giving me two heart attacks, hmm?" she grumbled tenderly as her ferret twitched its nose at her before snuggling into her nape. "Mhmm," she said, shaking her head, refastening the tiny harness around its lengthy torso and releasing it to the ground so she could still roam under her supervision this time. "Baba Yaga thanks you," Lori remarked, motioning towards her ferret and skilfully avoiding having to express gratitude herself. 

CLOSED

“Come here, my little fucking baby” 

Lori forced a smile and a relaxed demeanor so the small furry face twitching at her from around the dumpster wouldn't be startled. One hand lifted in submission, the other fiercely grasping the fabric of a harness to channel her annoyance at the situation. She must have looked ridiculous, crouching in a filthy alley, speaking in a phony perky tone to attempt to persuade an animal not to flee. “That’s it, don’t be scared, you tiny maniac.” She had to give him more credit; he'd understood that their excursion wouldn't be the customary stroll around the cemetery or wandering of Lori’s usual haunts. 

She'd taken the bus to Metropolis, of all places, because the vet she discovered online specialized in ferrets. As soon as they were about two blocks away the little devil slipped right out of its harness and scurried into the nearest alley. Lori was close to snatching him up, when a distant clatter sent the animal diving under a big mound of rubbish bags. “Fuck me,” teeth gritted, Lori pinched the bridge of her nose. About ten seconds away from summoning the power of the nearest magical user to rip the alley apart.

Rok had been keeping his head down for the last several weeks, in bubbling anticipation for his next hit on the city. The plans were slowly piecing together like a chaotic puzzle, and it was usually at the forefront of his thoughts as he milled about the bar between serving patrons. Though, what he never expected was the dark-haired woman who decided to grace his bar with her presence. 

His face twisted in confusion after doing a double take, wiping stray droplets from the bar as he spoke. “Human, Alien, Meta…we welcome all at this bar, unlike some in the city,” he replied, trying to play it cool. Wild otherworldliness. 

The Daxamite’s stomach clenched, his eyes cutting to her face with haste as surprise mixed with anger in his expression. “How—” Words cut short as she mentioned his true self, the one he’d been masking for the entirety of his residence on Earth. 

“We’ve got beer and booze.” Retrieving a menu from beneath the counter, he held it out to her, moving it from her grasp just milliseconds from her retrieval. “Say anything about me and I’ll find you and kill you myself.”

☠

What prompted her to confront the stoic extraterrestrial at the local watering hole? To prod the proverbial bulletproof bear? Boredom, mostly. Loneliness was a close second. She’d been leaning a little too heavily on her loner tendances. Lori had long since outgrown her adolescent yearning to find a place in a world where she was predestined to stand out. Despite this, her need for social contact lingered. No, she couldn’t quite snuff that out of her system. In her mind, it made sense to become friends with someone who also wasn't quite what they seemed. The problem was that this was undoubtedly an unusual, if not pushy, method to pique someone's curiosity. Bullying someone into being her friend was the only route she thought to take.

Lori pressed her black-painted lips together, her cheekbones appling from the effort. Oh she liked him. “That’s real good,” she drawled sarcastically, not a single indication that she actually felt alarmed by the very serious threat. Instead, she extended her arm and pushed her fishnet sleeve up to her bicep. “I’ve got goosebumps, look” when she was certain she’d made a point she righted her sleeve and snatched the menu from his grasp. “Calm down, Spock, I won’t blab. There’s no point” Lori finally assured him, her gaze scanning the items on the menu.

OPEN

Lori was a public transportation aficionado. Central’s was a hell of a lot less problematic than Gotham’s. Sure they timetables were shit and you never knew if your bus was going to come 15 minutes early or 30 minutes late. The drivers were all odd and underpaid, which resulted in disagreeable dispositions. You could almost always count on stepping aboard a crowded bus, shoulder to shoulder with a smelly, sweaty mouth breather. Truthfully, Lori loved the atmosphere. She was always more at peace amongst a little ruckus. She utilized the bus rides to meditate; following the curves and greeting each hill with the movement of the wheels over the roadways. Some sort of heavy metal blasting in her earbuds, the same view passing like a old rerun. It was the ideal opportunity for her thoughts to greet the horizon, salute the clouds and ready her feet for the day ahead.

“I really wouldn’t engage,” 

CLOSED

Lori was feeling more than a little sluggish that morning. Her body was cradled tight in her duvet, burrito style, and somewhere in the distance a dog was yaping. No matter how often she tossed and turned she couldn’t seem to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep. The sunshine leaked through the gap in her drapes and fell squarely on her nose as it climbed high in the sky. She shifted till her back was to the window and its intrusive light, tugging the portion of the duvet that had naughtily fallen open back over her eyes. She fully intended to settle back into a few more minutes, nay, hours of sleep. But life’s a bitch and so was her alarm clock. Two minutes later, it blared to life and yanked her back awake. Cursing into the folds of her comforter, Lori shifted, sticking an arm out of and snatching the damn thing up, preparing to fling it across the room when the sound of her door opening stopped her violent intentions. She listened with her brow wrinkled as gentle footsteps padded across the floor and to the window, where she heard the definite sound of curtains being drawn. Her eyes was quickly inundated with light, and she cringed away automatically.

“What…the…FUCK!” her voice became louder with each syllable, eventually becoming a roar. Lori was clearly not a morning person. She pushed the blankets away and leapt up, her face pinched in irritation and her stringy ink-black locks coiled in an elaborate tangle down her sides. She examined the room for the perpetrator and there she stood there, the light streaming in through the window giving her figure an angelic glow. “Zatanna FUCKING Zatara, have you lost your fucking mind,” her glare dimmed by the dispersed tendrils of hair obstructing her vision. It was one of her distinguishing traits, the foul mouth and the sharp glare, and Zatanna was getting the heat full notch. “Do you know what time it is?!” She brought the clock, still clutched in her fist, closer to her face, her eyes narrowing at the flashing green digits. “Fuck me, 9! 9 in the morning!” the tone of her voice had reached epic portions by this point, she turned the clock to face Z so she too could grasp the absurdity of the situation. 

They went through this procedure almost every morning; occasionally Lori was more subdued and simply grumbled under her breath as Z ushered her out of bed. This was how most days went. Of course, Lori was perfectly aware of the reason Z decided to cruelly wrench her from her slumbering comfort. She'd let her slack off the last few days of training, but she'd agreed to get an early start to compensate. However, between the time she verbally committed to the task and now, waking up in the wee hours of the morning, her determination had entirely dissolved and utter lethargy had sunk into her aching bones.

CLOSED

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you lady. You really want me to remake the whole drink? There’s a line of people waiting behind you” 

Lori looked up from her screen, the barista behind the counter and the tall blonde rousing her from the trance-like state that the reddit thread she was seven pages deep in had lulled her into. She was just about to comment her thoughts on the recent sighting of the fabled cryptid Mothman when the barista's snarky, flippancy stalled her. She couldn't blame someone for being blatantly sarcastic in speech; that was pretty much her schtick, but the much kinder woman was clearly uncomfortable. With a sigh, her gaze ran the length of her frame. From the brown rimmed spectacles, to the colorful sweater, to the preppy pencil skirt. Lori shuddered at the aesthetic, but one thing that was sure to trigger her was an asshole. Plus, she wanted her fucking coffee.

CLOSED

“An alien in a bar, that’s got to be some sort of weird set up for a dad joke”

Lori plopped into the vacant stool, fingers folded on the counter, lip stretched into a sarcastic grin. Was it wise to out the man before he’d even poured her a drink? Probably not. But there wasn’t anyone else around and she was feeling a bit confrontational. “I can smell wild otherworldliness on you, dude. And I can see your true self,” she added before he could question her, but offered no further explanation than that. As she tilted her head, her brow raised in challenge, her black hair cascaded over her shoulder. "You should see the look on your face."