023 ♕ [voice/action]
[An entire day has passed between Isis' defeat and anyone other than Clark and the Doctor, who volunteered her the use of the Zero Room to recover, seeing or hearing anything from Lois Lane. Clark's given her the story by now, on top of which she's coping with her sudden return to Paradisa after what's been, for her, a year and a half away from this place.
She's read every word in the journals about what happened. Listened to every unfiltered conversation.
Including everything that was filtered away from Isis, but not Lois Lane.
She's gotten to hear close friends discussing whether to kill her if it was necessary. She's gotten to relive the panic of residents when they found out their loved ones were taken. She's soaked up every word, sometimes more than once.
She's paid her respects to the dead.
And only now does she feel like she can't put off addressing the local population anymore - now that she knows the full extent of what occurred. More than anything, she sounds tired, the usual earnestness in her voice dampened by all the guilt weighing down on her. First Carter Hall, now all these people... and at her own hand, more or less.]
[Current Residents]
Normally, this would be the point where someone comes on over the journals post-loss and does the whole "I'm sorry" song and dance. Asks people to forgive him or her for their weird behavior, tries to mend bridges burned, that kind of thing.
But I already know that no amount of sorrys in the world are gonna cover what happened.
For those who don't know, I'm Lois Lane, apparently favored vessel for a psychotic goddess who thought she was Dr. Frankenstein. Before you ask, I don't remember... any of it, but I've been told plenty, and I've read even more. The damage Isis did in my own world was on the low end by comparison... and more importantly, nobody died that time around.
I think the hardest part is knowing that I wasn't even here to help all of you bring the bitch down.
... I don't meet a lot of things I don't know how to fight. I'm used to facing things head on. But it seems to be something becoming more and more frequent in my life. [There's a brief pause and then she plows on] I feel like it'd be ungrateful to those who died to waste away in guilt over what happened. A lot of people put their lives on the line trying to find a way to end this that would keep me safe at the same time, and if they hadn't done that, then maybe--
Well, there's really no point speculating. Either way, I owe every one of you a thank you.
I'm sure there's a lot more for me to catch up on from when I was checked out, and I know that I promised you all an updated report before I left. You'll still get one, but you should know it's been over a year for me since I was last here. A lot's happened...
... and I need to give myself a refresher on all the notes I left behind.
If there's anything I can do...
[She trails off, and after a moment, closes the journal, taking a deep breath, and leaning back in her chair, eyes closed.
She's in her room if anyone wants to drop by.]
She's read every word in the journals about what happened. Listened to every unfiltered conversation.
Including everything that was filtered away from Isis, but not Lois Lane.
She's gotten to hear close friends discussing whether to kill her if it was necessary. She's gotten to relive the panic of residents when they found out their loved ones were taken. She's soaked up every word, sometimes more than once.
She's paid her respects to the dead.
And only now does she feel like she can't put off addressing the local population anymore - now that she knows the full extent of what occurred. More than anything, she sounds tired, the usual earnestness in her voice dampened by all the guilt weighing down on her. First Carter Hall, now all these people... and at her own hand, more or less.]
[Current Residents]
Normally, this would be the point where someone comes on over the journals post-loss and does the whole "I'm sorry" song and dance. Asks people to forgive him or her for their weird behavior, tries to mend bridges burned, that kind of thing.
But I already know that no amount of sorrys in the world are gonna cover what happened.
For those who don't know, I'm Lois Lane, apparently favored vessel for a psychotic goddess who thought she was Dr. Frankenstein. Before you ask, I don't remember... any of it, but I've been told plenty, and I've read even more. The damage Isis did in my own world was on the low end by comparison... and more importantly, nobody died that time around.
I think the hardest part is knowing that I wasn't even here to help all of you bring the bitch down.
... I don't meet a lot of things I don't know how to fight. I'm used to facing things head on. But it seems to be something becoming more and more frequent in my life. [There's a brief pause and then she plows on] I feel like it'd be ungrateful to those who died to waste away in guilt over what happened. A lot of people put their lives on the line trying to find a way to end this that would keep me safe at the same time, and if they hadn't done that, then maybe--
Well, there's really no point speculating. Either way, I owe every one of you a thank you.
I'm sure there's a lot more for me to catch up on from when I was checked out, and I know that I promised you all an updated report before I left. You'll still get one, but you should know it's been over a year for me since I was last here. A lot's happened...
... and I need to give myself a refresher on all the notes I left behind.
If there's anything I can do...
[She trails off, and after a moment, closes the journal, taking a deep breath, and leaning back in her chair, eyes closed.
She's in her room if anyone wants to drop by.]