Nov 9, 2022
bring me to justice, lynda
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bring me to justice, lynda
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what's in it for you?
harley is all but smiles. her eyes have gone all starry! she has to look up, and for once she isn't necessarily doing anything bad. (she's been relatively well behaved recently.) "well now that ya' asked, doll." she clears her throat, trusts @truthqueen (out of anyone on planet earth) would understand. "-there's this guy, among the bad eggs yer' trynna' catch. he's got like a crazy bounty on that head of his. and little ol' me would just loooove to get my hands on it." she pulls out the paper where she printed out the relevant information. and she holds it out for her to take. the smile not wiping from her face. "-i know that a girl like ya', well, wowzers! there's nothin' ya' can't do, but i'm an excellent sidekick, just ask anyone ya' know!" maybe not batman. but, who knows maybe he's given her glowing reviews.
are you sulking?
the silt verses prompt. | @truthqueen | accepting.
damisa-sarki scoffed. her inquiry was ridiculousāso much so that amusement, not offense, curled at the edges of his panther's spirit. his charming grin, rich as the red-brown soil sifting through their toes, was an inconsequential betrayal of the sprightly rhythm his heart had taken on.
ā did you attend my naming ceremony and hear my parents bless me with the name, ahab? ā king t'challa retorted, archiving a brow as he finally paid the amazon heed. she should have known better. ā i am t'challaāreal kings do not sulk. ā
with that, he crushed leaves in his palm and tossed the shreds in the air, at the mercy of the arid wind. before it could claim them without purpose, he swung the spathoravdi to the right, then left, following through with a swift sequence that diced the foliage into finer and finer species.
the balance of the wood felt true in his handādurable, reliable, a tool of discipline rather than destruction. it bore no lethal edge, but that meant little. anything could become a weapon in the right hands. a philistine giant was once rocked to death, and a Congolese child had slain the word of the underworld with nothing but a fly whisk woven from buffalo tail.
satisfied, t'challa strode over to where diana stood and handed the wooden sword back to her.
ā i was merely assessing. it is a fine cultural memento for any museum worth its name. but with no telling how this afternoon's training will unfold, it would be a shame if it were to become irreparably damaged. ā
a wink, a knowing dip of his chin. then, with a easy motion, he hefted his umbumbuluzo cow-hide shield within his free arm.
ā this will be all i need. ā
if there was one thing rooted in t'challa, as deep as the baobabs of his homeland, it was the spirit of challenge.
@truthqueen asked; there is something about you, something you carryā¦
i see fire prompts
Such a vague remark invited interpretation, especially in regards to its intentions. Strangers tended to talk, constructing their own impression of the man that was beneath the red lined mask and digital carapace, rendered in deep navy and crimson, without once stopping to ask. But, whilst quick to push back on such impressions, no only the barest traces of resistance surface, marked by a faint crease of his brow.
"Hope it's nothing contagious." Reaching for a dry remark, rather than seek additional clarity, his words serve as a careful buffer, a line in the sand that's intended to separate himself from what she thinks she sees. Be that a masked vigilante, with the abilities of a spider, or a man turned reticent in his grief, that so far spent every day after chasing a future that refused to align with his efforts.
"Whatever it is, it's mine to deal with." His fingers flex at his side as he speaks again, curling into a loose fist before straightening in a manner that lasts for several cycles before stopping. It feels tempting to deflect, to shoot down what point this stranger is electing to make, but the wish to do so is soon overtaken by a different need; by a voice that urges for her to be granted an allowance to continue, contributing more observations and points as deemed needed.
And in case the opportunity is missed, or not available of at all, Miguel makes sure to add; "Because... I can't stop. I must keep going." Continuing to fight, to brawl, to hurt, to survive, as much as possible.
All with the intentions of making sure that the universe can go on, existing.
Ā @truthqueen sent "i know you better than you know yourself." [ not accepting ]
ā OH, PLEASE, āĀ Ā Ā Ā she sneers. she pushes herself to her feet, stance tight, and stares up at the amazon with cold blue eyes. her chin hips up as if to make up for their difference in height, and lips pinch in a thin line.
itās the audacity of it, really, that gets her. who is she, this pampered princess, this immortal, to pretend like she knows her? what does she know of adversity, of the near impossible odds that veronica has spent most of her life fighting against?
ā you may have read my wikipedia page, princess, but that doesnāt mean that you know me. ā
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@truthqueen asked; theyāre growing bolder.
i see fire prompts
With every venture came a certain amount of risk. What could be viewed as meddling was preventing an already spiralling situation from becoming significantly worse. The multiverse had required a protector, an agent that was to be found garbed in navy and scarlet, surveying a chaotic scene, finding agreement in the other's aired opinion.
"It's their style. They're waiting for a moment to pounce." There's a faint confidence coating that claim, enabled by prior experience. Miguel had come across nests before, be they of the Vulture or Lizard variety, crafted by variants more in tune with their monikers than their human identities. But he had never seen them work together. "This is an... unwelcomed development." Especially given the area, a remote mining site, manned by enough of a skeleton crew to spark concern about potential hostages.
And yet, as much of a threat as the avian Toomes' forged alliance with a grey-scaled, snarling Conners posed, they hadn't been the only pair to unite. A thought that fails to allude the masked Spider, as Miguel turns to address present company. "I know you have no reason to trust anything that I am telling you right now." Information relayed in bite-sized pieces, rather than through an elaborate exposition. The line of 'this reality is at stake' was almost always a reliable way to grab attention, with few pesky questions asked. "...But it's vital that we go down there and drag the both of them away, by any means necessary." Short of killing, that was, but he had the feeling that such action wouldn't be taken.
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@truthqueen / ( SC ).