overjoyed_logs | [closed] no offence

Entry tags:

dc comics | carrie kelley

[closed] no offence

Who: Kara & Carrie
Where: Westerley
When: Week 2; Day 1
Summary: How did Kara get an apprentice this is ridiculous
Restrictions/Warnings: violence at some point probably, talk of non-consensual experimentation

[It's been a long, shitty week and the last thing Kara wants to do is get involved in any more bullshit, but Kara has a string of contacts she's asked to keep an eye out for certain names and faces, so when one of them hits her up with information, she has to follow it up.

This isn't quite the kind of thing she'd usually get Carrie involved with, but she knows that with Kara's little trip off-world, the kid is going to be itching for something to do, and a trade like this is relatively low risk. Kara's still getting used to having to consider someone else when it comes to her side job, mostly because she'd gotten used to doing almost everything alone. Relying on people is a mistake, and having someone rely on her is even worse. But Carrie is the type who's going to get into trouble regardless of whether Kara is involved or not; at least this way she can look out for her.

(She doesn't acknowledge the fact that Carrie reminds her of some of the younger soldiers who used to be under her command).

A text is sent with an address - a couple of blocks away from where Kara is due to meet her contact - and a time, so all she has to do is wait for Carrie to show up.]

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[ Carrie eases her bike in after Kara's, still running pretty high on exhilaration. The last five minutes, sure by then that they weren't followed, were good for a start of a comedown, but not enough. No, enough is Kara's outburst, leaving her as concerned as it does wildly curious.

She's quiet on her bike beside Kara for a few seconds, watching, before she swings off, sets the stand, and heads over. ]

Let's see it. [ That's with a gesture toward her leg and eyes downcast toward it. If Kara wants to talk, she'll have plenty of opportunity while they deal with this. ]

[It's almost automatic, the way Kara shakes her head to dismiss the concern, only vaguely registering that Carrie's going to be in for a shock when she realizes the wound will already be partly healed.]

Just a graze.

[But she doesn't move, instead scrubbing a hand over her face as she tries to get herself to calm down.

The results are debatable.]

Are you okay? You didn't get hurt?

'M fine.

[ She's always fine — and if she weren't fine, it'd be some slip up and fault of hers, and she'd deal with it.

But regarding Kara, if she's not going to move to make this easier, Carrie will just drop to a crouch next to the bike in front of the leg in question. Seeing as Kara probably doesn't want to go pants off in a garage, she settles for a brief examination through whatever gash has been left in the fabric of them. Just to see what level of aid they're looking at, here. ]

[She considers pulling her leg away, stalking off and leaving Carrie here, but she's not that cruel and something tells her they're going to have to have this conversation sooner or later.

Beneath the torn denim, the wound is pink rather than the bright red to be expected from a half hour old bullet wound, and the blood is barely a trickle.

She'll be fine.]

[ At first she's not quite sure what she's seeing. She must have the wrong leg, this is an old cut. But — the blood stain on denim is still there. This was definitely bleeding not twenty minutes ago. Her hand had been halfway to the pouch that holds the gauze and disinfectants, but she pauses when she realizes there's really no need for it.

The sight gets a few seconds of consideration then, thoughtfully, she drops her hovering hand and leans back on her heels, shooting a look up at Kara.

There's a lot of questions in that look, but none of them make it into voice. They don't need to. She has enough faith in Kara to trust she knows exactly what Carrie's wanting to know. ]

The doctor's legacy. Nanites.

[It answers two questions, both of which she knows are inevitable because Carrie is almost insatiable when curiosity is concerned, and eventually she was going to ask about what happened at the dock.]

[ She watches Kara for a few seconds more, judging, considering. Then her gaze drops back down again to her leg, where it borders on appreciative. ]

Handy. [ Among other things. She rises from her crouch again, back once more to watching Kara. ] Gonna guess he added a couple other tweaks.

[ No one gets this level of pissed over miraculous healing nanites. ]

[At some point being Carrie looking at her and that unspoken question, Kara realizes this was inevitable. If she was going to keep working alongside Carrie, there was no way to keep all this a secret forever; either Carrie would accidentally brush against the wings at some point, or Kara would need to make use of them.

What she's less certain of is whether she can trust Carrie. This isn't like Ginshu, where she had an equally terrible secret to hold over his head, and there's a difference between trusting Carrie to work well and trusting her with this.

Kara pinches the bridge of her nose, frustrated, and then mentally switches off the cloaking device. Her wings are folded tight against her back, though they don't fit quite properly against her small frame, and the white feathers are dirty in places. She takes better care of them than she does most things, but Westerley isn't that clean.]

[ Although she doesn't make a sound, the instant Carrie's eyes discover the sudden addition and land on Kara's wings, they go wide. There's a silent breath taken in, a lip bitten, and instantly she shifts around Kara for a better view of them at her back.

She's not sure what to make of them, really, or why in the world a doctor would want to give someone wings, but she does know: they are cool as hell. It's entirely possible she's never seen anything this awesome before, actually.

She's got a hand outstretched without even realizing she'd moved, but pauses it before it makes any contact. ]

Can I touch 'em?

[Her first instinct is to say no, because they're more brittle than the rest of her and she doesn't like testing how well they heal, but she's... she's pretty sure Carrie isn't going to do anything stupid.

So she shrugs, the wings lifting a little as her shoulders do.]

If you want.

[ She definitely does want. Her touch is careful, fingers light against the feathers as if she were stroking the wing of a tiny, fragile bird. Well, they're not some kind of hologram — not that she'd really thought they were. Suddenly the way Kara stands off, her insistence on getting Carrie her own bike rather than sharing, all starts to make sense.

And though she's typically a pretty quiet kid, preferring to watch than ask, there comes a time for questions. Now is definitely that time. ]

What do they feel like? [ No, wait, she's thought of a better one. ] Can you fly? [ Hang on, better yet: ] Could we fly?

[It's the first time in over a year that anyone has touched Kara's wings, and for some reason a part of her expects to hear the caw of a raven to accompany the touch on her feathers, but she dismisses the thought.]

Heavy. Yes. Maybe, if there's a good wind.

[All three questions are easy enough to answer, though the first isn't entirely true.]

[ Heavy is a little boring of an answer, but yes and maybe are the best things she's heard all day. Her face lights into an enormous grin as she swings back around to face Kara directly. ]

Can we? [ A beat, and quickly: ] I mean — not now. When there's a good wind.

[ A noise further down the garage tugs her back into a more businesslike mode, though, and she steps quickly away to head back for her bike. If Kara made those wings appear as suddenly and effortlessly as she did, she's not concerned that she can make them disappear again in the same way. And the sooner they're back in Kara's apartment, where she can resume her delighted interrogation, the better. ]

[They're heavy is easier for Carrie to hear than they hurt, which is the same reason she's hesitant to offer an attempt at flying. The sound is a welcome interruption; the wings disappear and Kara climbs off her bike to wheel it the last couple of feet into the cage she had put in. It'd taken a little bribery for the landlord to okay it, but she feels better about putting their bikes behind a lock, when Westerley's the way it is.]

Don't get your hopes up, alright? I ain't tested it with someone else, but we'll try.

[She's carried things, but nothing as heavy as a person.]

[ Oh, her hopes are definitely up. She looks delighted, but has the good grace to do it quietly, head ducked down as she walks the bike into their cage. She's recovered and again back to her usual cool headed self by the time they make it to the stairwell. She stands with hands pocketed, like she's not bursting with about a million questions.

Once they make it to Kara's apartment, though, all bets are off. As soon as the door closes behind them, rounding to face Kara again: ]

How long have you had 'em? And — what do they look like all spread out, how big do they get?

[As always, the door is locked behind them, paranoia a familiar comfort for Kara. Unlike their usual debriefing routine, though, Kara would like to a) clean the blood off herself and b) change pants.

Luckily she can multitask, pulling off her boots as Carrie asks questions.]

About two years, I guess.

[She lost of track of time for a little bit, while she was travelling, but that seems about right.

The other two questions are answered without words. Kara moves so she's in the center of the room, then stretches her wings out as far as they can go in the slightly-cramped space. They're still bent slightly at the joint, but it's clear they're almost twice as wide as she is tall.]

[ Thanks Kara, she looks delighted all over again. She moves immediately to one of them, and this time doesn't stop to ask if she can touch. She's just as careful as before though, tracing a finger down one of the longer flight feathers. They're beautiful goes unsaid, but can be seen plainly in her face. ]

And you — don't like these? [ Since they'd been the answer to what else the doctor did... it makes no sense, though, as her perplexed glance over says. ]

[Ticklish isn't quite the right word to describe the sensation of someone messing with her feathers, but it's the one that fits the best, though Kara is as still as she usually is.]

I like 'em, but I didn't ask for 'em.

[Carrie is smart. She'll get the implication.]

[ Oh. Yes, she gets it. Her smile fades out again, an unhappy wariness moving in instead. She drops her hands from the feathers in question, attention more fully on Kara herself again. ]

But... you do like them. [ Because she definitely should. With one more quick, admiring glance over them: ] Figure like they're about the best things I seen around here, ever.

[It's a faint thing, but Kara offers a smile to Carrie, a reassurance that despite the painful way she gained those wings, they're still hers, still something she loves.]

They're a bitch to clean.

[It's true, but also a joke.]

[ The smile means a lot to her, and she reads it clearly. She's glad. She'd really hate to think Kara hates something this amazing. ]

I could always lend a hand.

[ She is so down for scrubbing some feathers. With a quick grin: ] Like washing a bird, right? My parents used to have one. I got this.

[The sheer absurdity of that mental image startles a laugh out of Kara, a rough little thing because she doesn't have a lot of practice.]

I ain't a bird, Carrie.

[On the subject of being clean, Kara is going to shimmy out of her pants and toss them in a corner, before heading towards the bathroom.

She figures Carrie will follow, at least enough to keep conversing.]

[ She does follow after Kara; she only chatters sometimes, around people comfortable to her like a second skin and at the right time, and Kara is meeting both of those qualifications beautifully at the moment. ]

Really? Coulda fooled me, I dunno anything else with wings like that. [ Walking behind Kara is suddenly great. What an ideal chance to get some more admiring (staring) in. ] Turns out I been working with a huge bird the whole time, who knew? You know — Raven makes a lot more sense right now.

[The look that Kara tosses over her shoulder is the non-verbal equivalent of a smack upside the head, though she's not doing so great at hiding her amusement.

As she gets to the bathroom door, the wings are folded in again so she can make it through the gap, then she gets to wetting a washcloth.]

Swan, actually. The wings.

[That's what they were based on, the genetic code of a swan, tweaked here and there to do exactly what Dr Niels wanted.]

Raven was my squad's call sign.

[It's a casual comment, made as she wipes the blood off her leg, but Kara rarely talks about her past.]

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