#ccfevent

We must not lose faith in humanity.

It’s that time again, loves! Another event is drawing near, running from July 18-24! This event will focus on identity, and the admins are very excited!

We will be posting more details on Monday, 7/12/21. In order to tighten up the details, we need to know who will be participating on this adventure of self-discovery. If participating, please comment a +1 on this post. (If you have multiple characters, please annotate +2, +3, etc... with the names of those who will be included.)

Not all characters need to participate, but we encourage you to commit with the characters that have been involved in the plot so far! If you don’t comment, it is assumed that your characters are not partaking.  Please make note that there will be little to no ability to jump in partway through the event, so plan accordingly.

“Well I think we should go to that really great brunch place and perhaps you are thinking it is premature to be making breakfast plans when we are still eating din-”

It was embarrassingly evident that it took Kory a few seconds too long to realize that she was no longer gazing adoringly at the visage of her new friend. Rather, she was suddenly outside for some reason. In her pajamas with a bowl of half eaten cereal resting in her palm. Cinnamon Toast Crunch tastes best late at night, in Kory's honest opinion, and she'd convinced Grace of this as the credits rolled across her screen. Yet, the second spoon was missing from the cerulean blue ceramic and Grace herself had vanished. Huh. Absently, Kory continued to bring her own spoonful to her lips, still managing to maintain her appetite as she regained her faculties. Holding the silverware between her teeth she finally noted the small congregation of bystanders gathering to gawk apprehensively at the apprehensively at the towering, orange-hued woman. Forgetting momentarily that she was certainly not still in Central City -- if the construction of the buildings nearest her were any indication -- her friendlessness won out over the confusion. Popping the spoon from her mouth she used the utensil to wave kindly. 

"Greetings! Might you be able to tell me where I am?" 

But her answer was promptly delivered when her face flashed across a adjacent screen. It was a strangely pleasant surprise to watch the reel of her greatest accomplishments on earth. From her earliest days fighting alongside the Titans -- and seeing her old friends brought a melancholy quiver to her lips -- to her stint with the Outlaws. The dreamy slant to her lips gradually dropped when it became clear that the baritone narrator was not extolling her valor but rather condemning it. Your time today is meant to help you realize your own humanity and once again find your humility. Brows furrowed, Kory finally began to understand that this was potentially a dire situation.

A marquee of woven silks and high fashioned suited charm occupied the expanse of the dance floor, twirling to and fro in the name of charity. It was one of the first galas held in the aftermath of Poison Ivy's attack and its attendees were in high spirits. It was more than a gala, it was a celebration of the progress made to rebuild what was destroyed and the ambient soul of community was present. Even the orchestra seems to have captured the spirit in its whimsical rhythm, crafting an enthralling melody with such grace that it felt as if it were speaking a spiritual language. 

Anya was always a sucker for a good classical melody, even though she never gave the impression of being a classical music enthusiast. It was one of the closest ways to get her to feel something. Within that entracing symphony she was the storm and the nurturing lull, she was the crescendo and the silence. She wanted to sink those vibrations, swim in that sound, get carried away by its riveting swirls and eddies. Fuse with it and enter the air of the venue - a firefly at last. "Beautiful, just beautiful" a dreamy sigh escaped her, eyes shut as she swayed from one side to the other. Lashes fluttering, her pale eyes refocused on the present. Humming along, she fiddled with the small device resting in her lap. Twining two wires together and waiting for the tiny green bulb to light. Then, her thumb pressed down. 

BOOM

An explosion erupted from the opposite end of the room, and the ensuing flames ordered that everything be reduced to ash. The fire surged fiercely outward, and the devastation was a horrible delight. It was as if the fire was the reflection of the arsonist, of a broken woman who wanted no more than to burn. From her perch Anya watched those nearest the flames, who weren't greedily consumed by it, flee in terror. Their screams made her tingle. She strolled across the floor, expertly navigating the panicked bodies scrambling for safety only for them to find none. She came to a halt in front of the maestro and grinned brightly. 

Same shit, different night. 

Looting during a citywide take over was expected, though Kate only wished it could have been postponed to another evening. A workaholic by choice, Kate lived and breathed by the Scarlet of her winged cape but even she with her sometimes infallible stamina to deliver justice needed a break every so often. Regardless, she would never dare to choose leisure above assisting a city in need. As soon as Christians number flashed across her screen she knew it was an emergency, so she suited up. The rumble of her motorbike engine overpowered the honks of angry late night drivers attempting to flee the city as she accelerated past them. Utilizing the constricted spaces between halted vehicles as a private route. All that could be seen was a blur of black and red and then she was gone, vanished into the night like the the remnants of  forgotten dream. The small screen attached to her handlebars guided Kate into the heart of the city and the earpiece snuggled in her canal filtered for important chatter. The first alarm her system detected redirected her to a bank near the precinct; she skidded to a stop and curved her bike in the direction of the source.

It wasn't difficult to find a place to stash her bike as she scaled the side of the establishment, finding a discreet entrance through the skylight. She counted seven men disguised pretty shittily if you asked her. For a moment Kate debated how to proceed: she lacked the patience for any lengthy antics. By prematurely revealing her whereabouts, they may scatter in order to escape being apprehended. She unhooked a batagran and linked a wire to the metal wing with a wicked smirk on her ruby lips Sinking into a crouch for a better angle, she flicked the weapon with a spin. IIt flew virtually unnoticed around the neck of the nearest thief, the maneuver quick enough that he didn't have time to shriek in distress before she tugged hard. Heaving him up and into the shadows. She watched him struggle for breath for a few satisfying minutes before alleviate the strangle on his jugular. "Shh" the criminals gaze widened as Kate brought a finger to her lips. "I'd stop flailing about like that; I'd hate for you to fall from this height”

She took out three more in much the same fashion, but inevitably those remaining began to notice their missing comrades. Well fuck it then. Before she could make a decision about whether or not to face the rest head on she felt a presence slinking in the shadows near her. Tensing in anticipation she was relieved to find a fellow vigilante had found their way to the scene. "There's four more down there, and possibly a handful waiting outside" she muttered to them as she braced herself for the fight "If you're helping, keep up. Otherwise stay out of my way" with a sardonic grin and a salute, Kate leaned forward, tumbling through the air. She landed neatly in the center of the room. 

Shit. 

Lois Lane was admittedly a glutton for action, it was a common attribute for those in her field and any of her colleagues could attest to the claim. The thick of it, so to speak, were where the seekers of truth thrived. Always primed to risk life and limb to uncover validity. The pen of the reporter can choose if the public is fenced into reaction and emotion or if they are enabled to escape its confines into the larger realm. One of empathy, logic and self control. Usually Lois would praise the serendipity of her chance predicament. Perry would surely argue that it was her proclivity to attract danger that landed her in one perilous disaster after the other. But Lois liked to believe it was luck rather than misfortune. A hunch. No reporter worth their salt was likely to produce crucial content if they were afraid of a little danger. Besides, she’d survived this long despite the way city wide -- and occasionally global -- disasters tended to sweep in like the tide. What was a few minor hostage situations when she was chasing a scoop. 

It seemed her supposed kismet had turned sour. 

Clark’s affectionate sign off was cruelly cut short, the sound of static confusing Lois momentarily before she was met with silence. Pulling the phone from her ear she surprised to notice her signal was suddenly non existent. She wondered if she was accidentally wandered into a dead-zone and retraced her steps through the CCPN lobby in an attempt to revive the signal. To no avail. Disappointed that the end of her husband’s voicemail was inaccessible, Lois finally took notice of those standing nearest sharing her bewilderment. Then she felt it. That hunch. Trickling down the length of her spine, a sensation that always sharpened her perception. An excitement. It meant something was amiss and she somehow found herself smack dab in the middle of it. Again. But she couldn’t revel in the elation this time, not when a barely quelled panic was battling for dominance. One that settled in a few hours prior after she’d bolted to the bathroom, less than twenty minutes after Clark’s sudden departure, and emptied the contents of her stomach. Two blue lines and her life was changed forever. 

It wasn’t just her life in danger anymore. 

She should have told him. 

let’s see if can do better

[x]