Doors Secrets (doorssecrets) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-07-08 13:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | plot: secrets |
Who: Two
What: Reveal
When: Secrets plot
Warnings/Rating: Nope
Gone was Lawrence. Gone was the man with the brown skin that smelled of the sea. Gone was the fur pelt that beat like something alive beneath her cheek.
Her cheek.
She was no It, and her confusion had nothing to do with her own gender. She was confused about sex, about sexuality, about life and love and living. She was wrong. Almost right, like the It had been, but still off. And maybe it was something people couldn't see when she was dressed in jeans and a hoodie. She was just a teenage girl then. Memorable for her long blonde hair and her bright blue eyes, but not for any wrongness beneath her skin. When she wore different clothes, it was more evident that she wasn't like everyone else. Red and blue, and there were signs all over Gotham and Metropolis with her picture on them. Wanted, but they'd focused on the suit, not the face, and she thought that made sense. She wasn't a girl to them. She was a threat, something scary, something that could hurt them.
But she wasn't in Gotham or Metropolis.
She was in Sanctuary, where the structure refused to answer when she called him Lawrence, no matter how she tried to explain that she thought he needed a human name. Sanctuary, the structure's AI explained, was his purpose and his name.
It was quiet in the huge structure beneath the sea, and she was prone on the sleeping surface. She couldn't hear the waves, and nothing smelled like rose flakes. And she was alone, and that was the worst part. She could research all the things she'd gotten wrong, but learning second hand felt insufficient now. She had been bred and born into the science caste. She was augmented, perfected, modified to become the most brilliant scientist on Krypton some day. But there wasn't any Krypton anymore, and she'd been a sixteen-year old girl when she'd left her planet, more interested in chatting with her friends than changing the scientific world.
She was born and raised in a world where predetermined purpose guided every single aspect of life. Here, she had no purpose. Here, she was lonely.
But she wasn't the kind of girl to sit and to sulk. She knew the things that had happened to the one in her head, and she knew he wouldn't track down the truth about things. But she could, and she would. And maybe she could find the man with the brown skin, the one that smelled of the sea. He'd talked to her. He'd really talked to her. She wasn't sure if he'd like her as she really was, but she was brave enough to try.
Decided, she tugged her bright pink blanket to her chin and closed her eyes.
(Sanctuary hated the blanket. He informed her, regularly, that "the temperature is at the perfect level for comfort, Kara.")
She tugged the blanket over her head. "Lawrence, dim lights."