InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I'm thinking Arby's"

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: 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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