Sometime before the JSA meeting...
Sand was a bit on edge. Things had improved since the incident with Pieter, but there was still an edge to everything. Several of the members had been on various other assignments and Captain Marvel had asked to address the assemblage as a whole, so instead of having already met, the team would be meeting a short time from now.
A lot occupied his mind. Despite having seen his comrades cheat death time and time again, Sand still, in a way, feared loss. It had only been a relatively short time since he had been cured of his silicon monster form when the JSA had disappeared to fight Surtur, then only a short time after their return when his Aunt Dian, then Wesley, passed into the mortal coil. Since that time, he had dedicated his life...and his fortune...to the rebirth of the JSA. To the creation of the Museum.
He looked upon the original costume of his longtime friend and teammate. He understood the purple and gold, more traditonal tights, but Sand always felt that his original look - the gasmask, the hat, the trenchcoat - was more Wes. It's partially why he's taken to wearing a trenchcoat of his own as of late.
He wonders, though, if it was truly meant to be. He had not had the prophetic dreams for awhile. He served alongside his comrades, but it didn't seem the same to him. He couldn't understand it...but he almost felt as if the team had passed him by. Part of it was that he still had a hard time adjusting to the modern times, had a hard time connecting with the rest of the team.
He missed Carter and Kendra. The fact that they weren't around as much as they were concerned him...especially Carter. He makes a mental note that he should go to St. Roch for a visit.
Instinctively, he turned towards the Hawkman exhibit...only to find someone else standing there. It took him a moment to recognize who it was, as he had only briefly met her in passing.
"Damage Girl"? He said, moving towards her.
A lot occupied his mind. Despite having seen his comrades cheat death time and time again, Sand still, in a way, feared loss. It had only been a relatively short time since he had been cured of his silicon monster form when the JSA had disappeared to fight Surtur, then only a short time after their return when his Aunt Dian, then Wesley, passed into the mortal coil. Since that time, he had dedicated his life...and his fortune...to the rebirth of the JSA. To the creation of the Museum.
He looked upon the original costume of his longtime friend and teammate. He understood the purple and gold, more traditonal tights, but Sand always felt that his original look - the gasmask, the hat, the trenchcoat - was more Wes. It's partially why he's taken to wearing a trenchcoat of his own as of late.
He wonders, though, if it was truly meant to be. He had not had the prophetic dreams for awhile. He served alongside his comrades, but it didn't seem the same to him. He couldn't understand it...but he almost felt as if the team had passed him by. Part of it was that he still had a hard time adjusting to the modern times, had a hard time connecting with the rest of the team.
He missed Carter and Kendra. The fact that they weren't around as much as they were concerned him...especially Carter. He makes a mental note that he should go to St. Roch for a visit.
Instinctively, he turned towards the Hawkman exhibit...only to find someone else standing there. It took him a moment to recognize who it was, as he had only briefly met her in passing.
"Damage Girl"? He said, moving towards her.