Fluff, Relationships, and Traditions
This entry is part 52 of 52 in the series 365 Challenge
So characters have habits, ways they interact with certain people and situations, things they do and like to do, stories and histories together. I've known a lot of my characters' for a long time but getting them all into fic is interesting, particularly for the ones I don't know that for.
I've ( Read more... )
Flow was a bloody-minded, reckless genius for strategy and getting her own way. The girl's body barely ever held still, constantly sliding from one form to another in a blurred inability to control it, but she was learning fast and snapped to bodies devised perfectly toward the impression she needed to give. Flow had charisma and the willingness to dive headlong in the way of anyone trying to punish a fellow team member.
Kilter was quieter, calmer, and all cool calculation. He took care of his own, offered comfort, and provided the logical counterpoint to Flow's anger. Where Flow was an unguided missile, chafing at her bonds, Kilter was a focused weapon aimed squarely at surviving with the least sins on their conscience. It hadn't taken long to realize they were being trained to kill.
Watcher needed both of them, so she let them argue out their points of view, let them fight each other with his ability to send the world sideways and her ability to send herself through his kilters and hit him anyway. She let them push and shove and snarl and protect because both of them were necessary to keep her team safe. Both of them had insights she needed to make decisions.
It was controlled chaos, but she had no better alternative until everything they were already and everything they were becoming came to a head.
There was training to do. The team members learned how to control themselves, how to fight with their powers, and how to fight without their powers.
To the trainers, Reserve seemed like the weakest link on their team. He was quiet and when he touched his team members, he could heal their wounds, but it drained him and could even knock him out if he healed too much. No one knew how his power actually worked. Watcher knew he was not weak. The team called him Reserve because they held him in reserve: he was their backup for when accidents happened. Reserve was like her in that he watched and learned from what he saw.
It was a simple assignment because they thought he was weak, to learn how to not heal when he touched another.
A criminal on death row was chosen for each team member to practice their powers on. Accidents happened. Chandler ordered Reserve forward.
He glanced back at Watcher, who smiled for him. She didn't squeeze his hand or touch him reassuringly. He was the one it was a mercy not to touch.
He reached out his fingers to the man's face. The criminal was unconscious and bound with several visible cuts on his arm. Chandler had told them his crime, explained that he wouldn't survive the month no matter what the team members did. It was important to the teams, that what they were asked to do was 'right' in some way.
Nothing happened right away and Reserve took a deep breath. He placed his hand on the man's chest. One breath, two. The lowest cut began to heal over. Reserve frowned in concentration. Then, something… happened.
Watcher leaned forward, suddenly realizing something had changed and she couldn't identify it until Reserve yanked himself back,yelling, and she caught him.
"No." He shook his head. "No. I can't. I can't."
Chandler checked the criminal's vitals. "What-" He checked them again. The bioreader showed something he hadn't expected.
Watcher gently put Reserve's arms from her and went to stand near enough to see. The man was barely breathing. The cuts were unchanged. She frowned. "What happened?" she asked clearly of Chandler.
He looked up at her and waved his reader. "I think he melted the guys insides."
Surprise flicked her gaze back to Reserve's. He shook his head, mute misery looking back.
She went back and guided him away.
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