I have always been a storm

 PASSED DOWN FROM FATHER TO SON ; A SNEER, one marked with contempt and cruelty. her words had struck a chord. like a backhand, he answers the sting as he normally would - all bravado and mockery. “ your words carry no weight, xebel witch. you made your allegiance clear from the start. “ beside his half-breed brother and the dry mouths. “ i seek what i ALWAYS have. what is best for atlantis. come now, mera, we needn’t involve ourselves in a petty surface squabble. “ natural selection for the self-proclaimed “apex predators”. the prince lowers his weapon a touch, “ i need answers. i need to know what has become of my home. i have been away far too long. “

“Then we have the same priorities in mind.” She may have followed Arthur here, but she was more alien than he. These were his people, him being half human himself- but Mera was atlantean, and nothing else. Was Orm truly so delusional that he thought her loyal to the surface dwellers above her own people?

“That makes, two of us.” It had been far too long since she’d seen home, herself. “Why....are you here, Orm?” Mera took a step towards him. “As always, you are doing things....the hard way. I am not your enemy.” If anything he understood her better than anyone. They had been raised the same. No one here, no matter how sympathetic to her cause could truly know.

009. Do they believe in happy endings?

Mara wasn’t raised to fantasize about such things, but she’s learning to

039. What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person?

Losing their family, and their home

013. Have they ever been bullied or teased?

‘ … princess of … ’ claire blinked, ‘ … atlantis. like the underwater city. ’ she couldn’t contain her attitude at this point, as she raised her brows and held up a hand to point downward, emphasizing underwater. there was a short pause. the muscles laxed and she threw her arms up and letting them fall to her thighs in a helpless gesture of resignation. ‘ well, who am i to judge. i guess if kunlun and evil ninjas are real … ’

she looked at mera half curiously, ‘ so what is an atlantic princess doing in the big apple — you got a new york embassy or something? ’

“You are a referring to a kind of....healing space.” It wasn’t a question. Mara now understood perfectly. “You are a healer. Where I come from, people like you are treated with the utmost respect.”

“Yes, my...land, is underwater. It is so different from here.” She sighed, once again her opinion far from concealed. 

“Do you mean to suggest...” Mera narrowed her eyes “There are those who don’t believe in Atlantis?”

Her memory called her back to the story she’d read about the small mergirl with hair as red as her own. “I assure you, we are no fairytale. No, no embassy. Though I hope one will be created, soon.”

“Sir, we have company.”

“I’m busy.”

“She has made it clear she won’t take no for an answer.”

Bruce looked at the screen, checking the surveillance feed Alfred had sent him, brown eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ll meet her in the study.”

“Very well, sir.”

Though their past encounters had been brief, Bruce recognized Mera instantly, unsure how exactly he should feel about her visiting the manor. He respected her, considered her a formidable fighter and ally, appreciating her diplomacy and ability to remain level headed in stressful situations. But he also knew Atlanteans had little love for the surface world, the princess never hesitant to make it clear where her priorities laid.

Bruce was already settled in his study when Alfred opened the door, stepping aside to allow their guest to enter. “Princess Y’Mera,” he greeted, a polite smile curling his lips. “I apologize for the delay. My schedule hasn’t allowed for many surprise visits these past weeks.” He gestured towards the sofa, offering her to take a seat. “Would you like anything to drink?”

Mera was not at all concerned about disturbing Bruce or interrupting his work. This was far more important than whatever tinkering he had been up to. Though she was a visitor here, she was no stranger to the whispers about Bruce Wayne and his....inventions? 

Something like that. 

He had many shiny gadgets. She wondered how many of them were contributing to the constant pollution of the planet that they shared. Mara frowned briefly at the thought.

“You may call me Mera.” The breathy inflection she chose seemed to suggest she wasn’t altogether thrilled at the idea. It’s not that she disliked him, it’s simply that she was yet to be impressed.

“Water would be appreciated.” Was there a hidden meaning behind her words? Quite possibly. Sh definitely stared at Bruce as though she expected him to retrieve it for her, and not the Butler. Ot, manservant, or whatever his slave preferred to be called. Poor man.

“I’ve come on official business, not leisure.” Her ‘surprise visit’ as he insinuated was not to be made trivial. “I have...a series of questions for you.” And Mera made herself comfortable on he couch.

‘ speci- what? ’ claire winced back at the direct gaze of the strange ( in every meaning of the word ) woman, ‘ no, i’m … i don’t have special powers or mutations. i’m … ’ she paused. what was she? ‘ i’m claire. i’m a nurse. you learn something working the night shifts down at the ER — i’m sorry, what’s your name? ’

“speci-MEN” Mera merely repeated her earlier words as though Claire may have truly misunderstood what the atlantean had meant. Mera, probably was not so ignorant- but one could hardly be sure. She IS a foreigner, after all.

“The...E....are?” The alphabet, she wasn’t so fluent in. Or abbreviations. “It sounds.....unpleasant.” Perhaps it had been a battle of some kind. The lithe woman before her did not have the build of a warrior, though it was evident that she had seen her share of violence.

“I am Princess Yemera Xebella Challa of Atlantis.” It was clear she was more than familiar with introducing herself this way. “You may call me Mera.”

“I am home,” he grumbles, briefly turning to square his shoulders with hers, only to subtly relax his taut muscles a moment later. “My Pops lives here, you think I’m just gonna abandon him for some throne?” Truthfully, it was Bruce Wayne who called him to the surface this time, but he wasn’t even going to use Wayne as a scapegoat. He should be able to move about land and sea freely, without being tailed like some irresponsible child. “And I have other shit going on. You realize I was born on land and that I want to be here, too, right?”

Mera was not accustomed to being spoken to in such harsh tones.

“For one who denounces his heritage, you certainly think yourself a loftier station than I.” it was subtle, but she raised her chin just a smidge higher as she carefully and quite matter of factly, stated her opinion.

“Atlantis is just as much a part of you as the surface. What would your mother say?” Perhaps she was overstepping  by bringing Queen Atlanna into this mess of an argument, but Arthur had made it abundantly clear that playing fair wasn’t on the agenda. If he wanted a brawl, he got himself one.

“Would you leave her beloved kingdom, to the likes of your insolent brother?”

Mera hated the way he barked at her. Why was he so cold, when her only desire was peace amongst their different worlds? A peace only reachable by Arthur’s claiming of his birthright. Why wouldn’t he see?

Mera, was visibly impressed by the stranger whom she’d for some reason or another, struck up a conversation with. Pulling the shades from her eyes, she took a better look at Claire.

Why the hell was Arthur wasting so much time on land, when he had only just begun to appreciate Atlantis for the superior world that it was?

Sure, Mera had learned to see the beauty and the unique atmosphere that the land dwellers had created- but that was when she thought she was merely visiting. It had been eons since she’d been home- and she was tired of waiting.

“Arthur, what keeps you here? Have you not done enough for these people?” There was so much that she wanted to show him. Her people needed him. His people. The dry place had claimed him long enough.

“Let me take you home....” Her voice became a little softer.

Mera sat at the coffee shop, her abandoned cup sitting in front of her- losing more and more of it’s heat by the moment. The few sips she’d taken had left much to be desired by the atlanean. 

There was nothing sweet about it, in fact it was bitter and unpleasant altogether. She understood very little about humans and their tastes. Coffee was almost as confusing to her as beer. With wine so easily accessible, why would they violate themselves with such...swill?

Suddenly, Mera was brought out of her brooding when someone bumped into her- and rather hard. 

She did not speak right away, but stared her assailant right in the eyes. Brows raised expectantly, as she awaited the apology she deserved. 

“What is so important, that it takes precedence over common courtesy? Or....is it not that common here, hmm?”

Land. It was such a strange place. So dry, in more ways then one.

Mera had been open minded about making this her new home, temporarily. There was plenty of work to be done here, and she knew that if not she, then who would step up?

This place needed healing. The absentmindedness and apathy of the surface dwellers had not caused not only the pollution of their own home, but hers as well. Mera had to go straight to the source.

The only thing that seemed to influence these people, was currency. Mera happend to know someone, albeit distantly, who had plenty to spare- and it was time to put it where it counted.

“Y’Mera Xebella Challa for Mr. Wayne, please” Mera stood outside the gates of Wayne Manor, announcing herself through the strange communication device that had just asked her for her name. She was dressed in regular surface attire, a long forest green coat, oversized cat eye sunglasses. You’d think she blended right in, if it weren’t for her flame red hair. 

“I am not expected, but he will see me.” The girl was on a mission.