(no subject)

[bossymarmalade]

Dun. Beige. Ecru. Taupe. Eggshell. Putty.

Off.

Kyle has Poppy on the large oak table in the kitchen of Wayne Manor, swaddled in a fleece blanket - it’s a child blanket that Mister Pennyworth gave him, Kyle notes idly, uninterested - staring with her lizard eyes as he leans his chin on the wood and stares back at her. She blinks one eye lazily, the inside-lid clicking sideways, then retracting.

Neutral movements.

When Kyle had given Poppy to Mar’i, the lizard’s skin emanated all sort of colors - not reds or greens, blues or violets, though. Those were Lantern emotional spectrum colors. No instead, Poppy rippled in colors that Kyle remembered thinking Mar’i would enjoy: chartreuse and puce, vermilion, teal and lavender.

Poppy chirps, like a mix of a baby crocodile and a zebra. And like something (someone?) else, that Kyle can’t quite place right now.

He contacts Oa, and Salaak asks, “Why on Oa do you care about the originating planet of one animal species?” Kyle responds: “Aren’t we Green Lanterns supposed to take care of everything in the universe, right down to the smallest creature, Salaak?” Exasperated, the Slyggian snaps back, “That is not what I mean, Lantern Rayner. I did not think you — never mind. I shall transmit the file archive to your ring. Do not contact me about this again, Salaak out.”

Here is the information Kyle gets: The planetoid was classified in its galaxy as V223s.ddfd463*6^^, loosely translated. It was an agricultural planetoid, used by the surrounding planets as a resource and food source. It was also a hotspot for the Nyrellian pirates, who habitually raided and stole creatures and plants to be sold in the galaxy black market. Kyle already knew that part; he’d encountered a crashed Nyrellian ship on V223s.ddfd463*6^^. The planetoid was close to complete destruction (interplanetary civil war, yadda yadda) and Kyle had been assigned on rescue detail, just in case he found any lifeforms worth saving.

Two Nyrellians clung to life in their crashed ship; but Kyle left them and instead salvaged only one thing before the entire planet imploded: a cramped cage with a small, mewling lizard. The last survivor of her planet, on the brink of being stolen for some tyrant’s exotic pet collection or worse.

"C’mon, Poppy," Kyle coaxes, and Poppy responds with a little throaty chirrup. "I know you miss home. I’ll bet Vehtwothreeess-dot-defedfoursixthreeixiehathat was full of little spitfires just like you, little cacti too, huh?” He pushes over a potted cactus to entreat the lizard. The GLC file gave a very cursory list of life-forms that cultivated on V223s.ddfd463*6^^, and some of the plants looked rather succulent. Poppy crawls out of her swaddle and boards the cacti, but her color doesn’t change. No russet, no emerald or coral or sage. Just…dull.

Kyle sighs, on the brink of sending Mar’i another text about Poppy, if only to say there’s been no change. He knows Mar’i’s busy with the rest of the League, handling Talia and now Cheshire, but. Truth is he kind of also wants an ETA as well; and Poppy’s lack of status is a good excuse.

Poppy raises her head to look at him, trills, and bursts into flame.

"Dios mio!" Kyle exclaims in a panic, hands flared in shock as he stares at Poppy. She’s trilling, or screaming - something, Kyle can’t tell but it’s enough to make Titus in some distant room start to howl. He hastily constructs a fire blanket and grabs for the twitching lizard, trying to tamp the flames; instead his hands crush though her crumbly fiery skin and body, as if it’s made of hard ash. "Ohmigod," Kyle breathes in horror, opening the blanket and finding the remains of Poppy: brown clumps of dust that smear greasily into the blanket. Kyle is already imagining the many ways that Mar’i will either rip off his head, never speak to him again, or perhaps both. No wait what is he thinking. Definitely both —

—- except. tok

The flat of his thumb rolls against something hard in the blanket; exhaling a shaky breath, Kyle pushes through the ashes, eventually revealing a hard stone. No - it’s not a stone - it’s an egg. The shell is colored, bright swirls of grass and sky, peach and plum, blood and sun that shift constantly in reply to Kyle’s fingers.

He forgets to breathe for a moment as he hears the chirrup noise again - once, twice. Except it doesn’t come from Poppy or the mysterious egg she’s left behind. And this time, it’s accompanied by a distinct scent of fall apples in the air.