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thejusticelounge2014-03-30 09:34 pm
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2014-03-30 09:34 pm
sol
[Ring Txt] I was waiting to tell you in person. I’m on my way.
Roy reclined after reading the message. Adebayo had been in and out of his room since last night. The diagnosis was a simple one: concussion, laceration, aching bones. The script she had given, less so: the woman had done the verbal version of a solid ass whooping. Villains of the world didn’t need to devise masterplans or crazy devices if he was going to let a lack of sleep and unfocused mind do him in. Long story short, Roy could be his own worst enemy.
But that wasn’t anything new.
Staring at the pudding cup, untouched and unopen, in front of him, Roy wondered.
Kyle arrived quickly, heading into the MedBay. Roy was still in the same bed, although now there was a bandage on his head, and Roy was half-sitting up, bolstered by a small army of pillows. Kyle approached, sketching out a construct stool for himself at Roy’s bedside.
"Hey, Roy, thanks for seeing me." He perched on the stool and looked down at his hands first, drawing along the lines of his palm as he considered how to start. "I went to Oa to ask about Tamaran. The GLC only recently got access into the Vega system, so it’s still new ground. Uh. I tried to get in contact with the GLs assigned to Sector 2828 - they monitor some of the Vegan worlds. Tamaran and Okaara are on the cusp of interplanetary war. No surprise; that place is all about chaos, but this one’s a doozy. That ship that took Mar’i away belonged to the Tamaranean monarchy. It wasn’t just a regular military ship."
Kyle paused and looked at Roy, attempting to gauge the other man’s expression, if there was any flicker of realization about Mar’i and her trans-dimensional royal relations. Something maybe that Mar’i had shared with Roy about her past. Kyle himself didn’t grok the connection, other than the vague knowledge that Starfire was a Tamaranean Princess. And despite Mar’i coming from a different futuristic universe, Kyle surmised there were some parallels…maybe? Kyle didn’t know. Maybe Roy knew more about that.
Now that he’d given what background he could, Kyle continued.
"I’ve been assign - I’ve been commissioned to liaison with a—" Kyle paused, mouth twisting to find the right words without getting jargony "— a new peacekeeping alien race from the Vegan System, all negotiators and mediators, apparently. The Guardians are convinced that these…uh…Peacekeepers can prevent the Tamaraneans and Okaarans from engaging in full-scale planetary destruction. They arrive on Oa in a couple days, and then I’m going to meet their Peacekeeper Leader and travel back into the Vegan system to, uh, to act as…as…an Ambassador. Between. Them. And the Guardians." Kyle’s staccato delivery implied he was clearly discomfited by this ostentatious commission, but nonetheless resolved to do his Lantern duty.
When he looked up at Roy, his expression was determined, hopeful even. ”But this means I’ll have personal clearance deep into the war zone, and with the Tamaranean military and leadership. Which is where Mar’i will be, no doubt. And if Mar’i is in some specific elite deployment or royal special forces or royal consultant - I’ll find her. I’ll find her and —” And what, Rayner? You’ll make sure she’s safe? Nightstar was one of the strongest fighters he knew; and any mewling vow on his part to ‘keep her safe’ was insulting to Mar’i at worst and patronizing at best. ”—and keep you informed. She’ll come back home, no matter what.”
Roy listened, listened to everything that came out of Kyle’s mouth, even if his expression didn’t shift. It was one of the few signs that there was something amiss with the archer.
Besides the naturally-not-taciturn Roy being unmistakably quiet during Kyle’s entire explanation of the situation, the fact that Roy didn’t seem to miss a single consonant or vowel that slipped out of Kyle’s mouth—the fact that he seemed trained on the push and pull of the Lantern’s lips, the way his tongue formed the words against the front and back of his teeth, his voice slipping along the edges of them as Roy strung them together like beads, trying to make sense of what he was saying. What he meant.
Kyle kept talking, bringing up the ship, and the fact that it wasn’t just a regular old Tamaranean warship (not that Roy would have been able to tell the difference either way, but it was a good thing to know) that had taken Mar’i away. He kept talking, getting to the part that, to Roy, is the most important part: that he, Kyle, would become a stepping stone between here, Earth, the League, and them, the Tamaraneans. The aliens.
Roy didn’t nod, didn’t make any motion that he had heard any of it, because he is, instead, distracted by something else. Kyle hadn’t said anything about trying to find a way around the edict, the strange alien custom that had decreed that this sort of thing could happen in the first place. Instead of barreling right through it, sketching out a giant Acme hammer composed of intricate cross-hatches and circles and squares underpinning the structure, Kyle was being a diplomat. Kyle was being..
“No matter what?” Roy asks, his head tilting to the side. “That a guarantee, Kyle?”
Kyle regarded Roy for a long time - noting his lack of motion and contained composure, spacing out just for a moment to focus on a small mole (or freckle?) under Roy’s ruddy chin-stubble. Finally, Kyle nodded.
"Okay. I deserve that," he conceded, blinking hard. He took a deep breath in, and leaned forward.
"Look Roy - I screw up all the time with you and Mar’i. I love the both of you, but I sure suck at showing it, don’t I. So - like - if you doubt my follow-through? And if you think I’m more about obeying smurf orders than protecting Mar’i’s safety, then - then I get why. I deserve it, and I’m extremely sorry." Kyle spoke quietly, unconsciously adopting a tone similar to Kate’s.
"What I know is my assignment grants full clearance into the warzone, without getting anyone killed to do it - Mar’i included. What I get is information and access to trawl entire planets to find one single person, without wasting time getting into fights or arrested or killed." Being killed meant he’d be utterly useless in this venture. "What I see is an opportunity for me to get her out of conscription, one way or another. Because there is a way.”
Kyle was painfully conscious of his jabbering on like a stupid monkey to fill the void between them. He believed in every word he was saying, and he desperately wanted Roy to believe in him too. But why should he, Rayner?
"She’s a strong, pragmatic, capable person," Kyle doggedly kept talking. More to himself at this point; Roy already knew Mar’i, better than anyone else. "She’ll find her way home, and yeah - no matter what - I’ll clear her a safe path.”
Roy reclined after reading the message. Adebayo had been in and out of his room since last night. The diagnosis was a simple one: concussion, laceration, aching bones. The script she had given, less so: the woman had done the verbal version of a solid ass whooping. Villains of the world didn’t need to devise masterplans or crazy devices if he was going to let a lack of sleep and unfocused mind do him in. Long story short, Roy could be his own worst enemy.
But that wasn’t anything new.
Staring at the pudding cup, untouched and unopen, in front of him, Roy wondered.
Kyle arrived quickly, heading into the MedBay. Roy was still in the same bed, although now there was a bandage on his head, and Roy was half-sitting up, bolstered by a small army of pillows. Kyle approached, sketching out a construct stool for himself at Roy’s bedside.
"Hey, Roy, thanks for seeing me." He perched on the stool and looked down at his hands first, drawing along the lines of his palm as he considered how to start. "I went to Oa to ask about Tamaran. The GLC only recently got access into the Vega system, so it’s still new ground. Uh. I tried to get in contact with the GLs assigned to Sector 2828 - they monitor some of the Vegan worlds. Tamaran and Okaara are on the cusp of interplanetary war. No surprise; that place is all about chaos, but this one’s a doozy. That ship that took Mar’i away belonged to the Tamaranean monarchy. It wasn’t just a regular military ship."
Kyle paused and looked at Roy, attempting to gauge the other man’s expression, if there was any flicker of realization about Mar’i and her trans-dimensional royal relations. Something maybe that Mar’i had shared with Roy about her past. Kyle himself didn’t grok the connection, other than the vague knowledge that Starfire was a Tamaranean Princess. And despite Mar’i coming from a different futuristic universe, Kyle surmised there were some parallels…maybe? Kyle didn’t know. Maybe Roy knew more about that.
Now that he’d given what background he could, Kyle continued.
"I’ve been assign - I’ve been commissioned to liaison with a—" Kyle paused, mouth twisting to find the right words without getting jargony "— a new peacekeeping alien race from the Vegan System, all negotiators and mediators, apparently. The Guardians are convinced that these…uh…Peacekeepers can prevent the Tamaraneans and Okaarans from engaging in full-scale planetary destruction. They arrive on Oa in a couple days, and then I’m going to meet their Peacekeeper Leader and travel back into the Vegan system to, uh, to act as…as…an Ambassador. Between. Them. And the Guardians." Kyle’s staccato delivery implied he was clearly discomfited by this ostentatious commission, but nonetheless resolved to do his Lantern duty.
When he looked up at Roy, his expression was determined, hopeful even. ”But this means I’ll have personal clearance deep into the war zone, and with the Tamaranean military and leadership. Which is where Mar’i will be, no doubt. And if Mar’i is in some specific elite deployment or royal special forces or royal consultant - I’ll find her. I’ll find her and —” And what, Rayner? You’ll make sure she’s safe? Nightstar was one of the strongest fighters he knew; and any mewling vow on his part to ‘keep her safe’ was insulting to Mar’i at worst and patronizing at best. ”—and keep you informed. She’ll come back home, no matter what.”
Roy listened, listened to everything that came out of Kyle’s mouth, even if his expression didn’t shift. It was one of the few signs that there was something amiss with the archer.
Besides the naturally-not-taciturn Roy being unmistakably quiet during Kyle’s entire explanation of the situation, the fact that Roy didn’t seem to miss a single consonant or vowel that slipped out of Kyle’s mouth—the fact that he seemed trained on the push and pull of the Lantern’s lips, the way his tongue formed the words against the front and back of his teeth, his voice slipping along the edges of them as Roy strung them together like beads, trying to make sense of what he was saying. What he meant.
Kyle kept talking, bringing up the ship, and the fact that it wasn’t just a regular old Tamaranean warship (not that Roy would have been able to tell the difference either way, but it was a good thing to know) that had taken Mar’i away. He kept talking, getting to the part that, to Roy, is the most important part: that he, Kyle, would become a stepping stone between here, Earth, the League, and them, the Tamaraneans. The aliens.
Roy didn’t nod, didn’t make any motion that he had heard any of it, because he is, instead, distracted by something else. Kyle hadn’t said anything about trying to find a way around the edict, the strange alien custom that had decreed that this sort of thing could happen in the first place. Instead of barreling right through it, sketching out a giant Acme hammer composed of intricate cross-hatches and circles and squares underpinning the structure, Kyle was being a diplomat. Kyle was being..
“No matter what?” Roy asks, his head tilting to the side. “That a guarantee, Kyle?”
Kyle regarded Roy for a long time - noting his lack of motion and contained composure, spacing out just for a moment to focus on a small mole (or freckle?) under Roy’s ruddy chin-stubble. Finally, Kyle nodded.
"Okay. I deserve that," he conceded, blinking hard. He took a deep breath in, and leaned forward.
"Look Roy - I screw up all the time with you and Mar’i. I love the both of you, but I sure suck at showing it, don’t I. So - like - if you doubt my follow-through? And if you think I’m more about obeying smurf orders than protecting Mar’i’s safety, then - then I get why. I deserve it, and I’m extremely sorry." Kyle spoke quietly, unconsciously adopting a tone similar to Kate’s.
"What I know is my assignment grants full clearance into the warzone, without getting anyone killed to do it - Mar’i included. What I get is information and access to trawl entire planets to find one single person, without wasting time getting into fights or arrested or killed." Being killed meant he’d be utterly useless in this venture. "What I see is an opportunity for me to get her out of conscription, one way or another. Because there is a way.”
Kyle was painfully conscious of his jabbering on like a stupid monkey to fill the void between them. He believed in every word he was saying, and he desperately wanted Roy to believe in him too. But why should he, Rayner?
"She’s a strong, pragmatic, capable person," Kyle doggedly kept talking. More to himself at this point; Roy already knew Mar’i, better than anyone else. "She’ll find her way home, and yeah - no matter what - I’ll clear her a safe path.”