InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Sometimes, I eat berrypie."

Iris Morgenstern (unsteady) wrote in rooms,
@ 2015-01-03 01:25:00

Entry tags:

!dc comics, *journal, *log, iris morgenstern, ra's al ghul

["Gray"]
[After she finally opens her stocking gift. She sits in her room for quite a while staring at it before grabbing her journal.]

I don't understand this gift.

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	Re: "Gray"/Iris head 2015-01-03 08:38 am UTC (link)
	The flu doesn't last longer than two weeks. Have you been sneezing? Congested? Coughing? (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: "Gray"/Iris unsteady 2015-01-03 08:40 am UTC (link)
	[She's half hunched over, barely able to keep her hand steady.] Stop please (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

head
2015-01-05 05:36 am UTC (link)

[As soon as her writing turned messy, he started for the upper levels of his home. The lab could handle itself, and he barely got a look from those working within it as he left them to their work. The door shut solidly behind him - those were a few rooms he did not want her to accidentally find her way into, not now and possibly not ever.

Through the kitchen he went, watching as her words became ever more disjointed. Such denial had not been truly expected, but he had hoped that she would want to see and that she might be happy to bear new life into the world. Perhaps it was a matter of adjustment. It was new, newer for her than for him. But the more she talked, the further she moved from the joy he had wanted from her and into the panic of old.

The rap of his knuckles against her door was cursory and he didn't wait for her response before he pushed the door open and entered the room.]

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Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

unsteady
2015-01-05 05:50 am UTC (link)

[She had vague, drug-clouded memories of being asked by doctors and nurses years ago if she might be pregnant once she was admitted to the hospital. At some point they'd stopped asking, but their initial overwhelming concern had made too much of an impact for her to ignore now. Especially with the additional memories of future sessions, being told how lucky she was to have avoided that. That the problems with her sight in childhood, her adulthood madness would possibly be genetic. That she would be cursing any child she would have had. How lucky she was that it hadn't come to pass.

Those thoughts were still there, along with years of her own bad choices and all the awful things she'd been a part of doing. It only added to those old opinions, and when her cycle went irregular and then stopped entirely, she hadn't been concerned. It was a good thing if she couldn't bear children.

But now this. Things had finally seemed to settle down (even if she still held the opinion that she didn't deserve any of the good things that had been provided to her - both material and not), and she'd felt more stable than she had in years. But the sudden and overwhelming shock sent her spiraling back to the words of those doctors years ago.

When the knock came, she looked up at the door, and hadn't even found her voice when Gray pushed his way inside the room. She was still hunched over, pen clenched in one hand even though her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. Her eyes were wide, more frightened than they had been for a very long time. She shook her head at him, gaze falling away.]

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Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

head
2015-01-09 12:55 pm UTC (link)

[All it took was that brief look, the shocky wide open eyes, to have him sighing as he crossed the room to her. Whatever hopes he had would have to wait as he sat beside her, one hand beginning to rub soothingly up and down her back.

Her past medical history was somewhat unknown to him. The doctors, the blindness, but he knew about her anxiety and he had taken steps previously for it. Abida, the anti-anxiety medications, talking her through the worst of the panic - but none of these things had stopped him from taking her to bed. Was it possible that she could pass such things on to their children? Of course, if the building blocks for it were written across her DNA.

As gifted as he was with genetics, he nor anyone had mapped all the intricacies of that, let alone her's. But he was sure that it could be handled. If not, he would simply let the child glide through whatever life they could find and be neither whisper nor shadow in it. The weak were to die, the strong to live.

These were decisions made long ago, regardless of whatever affection he felt for her. His hand slid down to her waist - a neat tuck for now - and tugged her closer to his side as he bent to kiss her temple.] Breathe, Colombe. Breathe and tell me why you find this so frightening.

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Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

unsteady
2015-01-09 05:28 pm UTC (link)

[The touch instantly helped to settle her, a tether in the rushing of her thoughts. Even before he tucked that hand into the dip of her waist (that she hadn't noticed becoming more prominent until just now), she was already moving closer to him, pressing along his side until she could rest her head on his shoulder. She didn't normally instigate such a large amount of touch, but she found herself now wanting to crawl into his lap like a child. The press against his side was a compromise (of sorts).

Her breath shuddered in at the command, and it took another moment for her to reply, words slipping and slithering out quietly.] I wasn't meant to be... I'm not supposed to get pregnant. Not ever. I didn't think I could, and that was good. There's so much about me that's wrong, and everything I touch goes bad. Mangled. I can't even take care of myself, I know I can't. Every time I try I fail. I hurt everyone around me, but when I try to be alone I can't do it. I'm already afraid about hurting you, and now there's... it's... [Her head moved enough for her gaze to angle downward, toward her stomach. And then her hand lifted - just one - and rested four shaking fingertips lightly against the fabric there.]

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Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

head
2015-01-13 12:50 pm UTC (link)

[Touch had always calmed her. But her leaning into his touch, that came only when her want exceeded her frequent denials. He inhaled, his arm curling around her tight shoulders, one long fingered hand rubbing up and down her bicep from elbow to shoulder.]

You cannot hurt me, Colombe. I have told you this. [But he listened, hand rustling against cloth and smiled again when she looked down and touched her belly. It wasn't round yet, not even bulging, not even a bump, but it would in the next few months.] If you had been born even a century ago, no one would think anything of these things. You would not have been expected to care for yourself. [In the years before that, she would have been seen as property, first as her father's, then as her husband's. There would have been no reason to be concerned. As for what was wrong with her -] Learned behavior does not make you unsuitable.

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Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

unsteady
2015-01-13 11:42 pm UTC (link)

[She turned her head toward his shoulder, hiding her face, though it was only a moment and a sigh before she was speaking softly again.] People say that. Think that it won't happen. So certain. ...And then it does. [She closed her eyes, and the fingers that had been so uncertainly light on her own stomach flattened into something protective. She didn't feel the difference there yet, other than a sort of rigidity instead of the soft give of even a flat belly. She frowned, and her eyes opened again to look down at her hand.]

But I wasn't born then. I was born now. [She tried to start pulling herself away, to sit up and to be stronger, as her words indicated she should be. But it was a reluctant thing, and she simply shook her head to his last comment.]

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Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

head
2015-01-17 05:37 pm UTC (link)

[It was an old argument. Her insistence that some harm would come to him from her presence in his life and his assurances that such a thing could not happen. He sighed and looked down at her flat belly, reached out to lay his hand atop hers, the tips of his fingers across the back of her wrist.] You would not hurt me, Colombe. I know this. Whoever these others are, they are not me, and I am not them.

I wish you would believe me when I tell you this. [He sighed as she drew away, hand slipping from hers, but the other remained at her back, a tether, a lifeline if she needed it.] Why do you want so badly to be someone you are not? Why not be the best you?

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Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

unsteady
2015-01-20 10:29 pm UTC (link)

[She hadn't lifted her gaze again, and so the appearance of his hand startled her. But his touch was warm over her fingers, her wrist, even if the action of placing a hand so low over her stomach seemed strange and foreign. And yet, there was something very small and very quiet beginning to spark in the very back of her mind. Still small and quiet and distant enough to ignore. But there. And in the next breath she shook her head, gaze still down.] You are still human. You can still be hurt.

[She didn't move far, just trying to sit up straighter, and she finally looked at him as she began to miss his hand over hers after just a second. Her next words were whispered, as if they were a secret instead of an obvious truth.] I don't know what that is. What I'm supposed to be. ["What", not "who".]

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Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

head
2015-01-22 11:06 pm UTC (link)

[Human, she still thought of him as human. A baseline human that could be harmed. There were very few living that could hurt him and a very few that he would allow close enough to have the chance.] Do you want me hurt? [Quietly asked, devoid of any implication.] I think if you don't want me hurt, you'd find it easy not to do so, Colombe.

[The what and not the who caught his attention, his fingers spreading wide.] The who comes before the what. Who do you want to be? Who is this woman you think you should be?

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Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

unsteady
2015-01-23 12:00 am UTC (link)

[Her gaze lifted to his, shocked, at the question. Why would she want to hurt him? The desire to hurt anyone had only struck her a few times in her life, and usually only with people that had somehow hurt her family. Or those that were like family.] No. I don't want that at all. But things... happen.

I don't know. [Those next words were quiet. And reluctant to admit it.] I don't know. [It felt like it needed the repetition.]

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Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

head
2015-01-25 11:50 am UTC (link)

They won't happen to me. [Confidence bordering on arrogance as he continued to rub her back.] Only you could hurt me now, dear Colombe and you don't want to. [Not that he ever thought she had, but it was something that had to be said to her.

As did this:] There may be things wrong, but that does not mean you are wrong. Who you are is beautiful. You do not need to be someone else to be adored.

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	Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris unsteady 2015-01-27 03:43 pm UTC (link)
	[A little sigh, but a surprising amount of frustration laced through it. Her voice is soft, though, and she doesn't move away from the gentle pressure of his hand on her back.] You don't know that. [And she will never be able to accept an actual compliment. Her cheeks flush and she looks down at her hands, shaking her head.] (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris head 2015-01-30 08:09 am UTC (link)
	I do. [He whispered, barely louder than an exhalation as he pressed his lips to her temple. It was not worth this fight to say anything more than that.] Shh. [Too far and he forgot her displeasure of all things complimentary about herself. A very quiet sigh as his fingers stretched out over her back.] You don't need to be anyone else, Iris. Only you. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Iris' bedroom "Gray"/Iris

unsteady
2015-01-31 06:46 am UTC (link)

[There was nothing else she could say. She could keep insisting that there was always the opportunity for something to happen, but she could tell (even in a voice that was barely more than a breath in her hair) that he would never concede the point. So she simply stayed quiet, especially with the soft shush that came next.

She only had to be herself. The thought maybe turned her stomach, but it was her own thing to be stubborn about, knowing that they would never agree. It was somehow both frustrating and comforting that he thought well of her, and she couldn't decide on which. But she did let one soft little whisper escape.] Whoever that is...

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