Thalia Grace (wasatree) wrote in welcomethreads, @ 2013-10-22 21:24:00 |
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Thalia never had much of a love for the sea. That was Poseidon’s domain, and given the tension-filled sibling rivalry between him and her father, she never really felt comfortable around water. But tonight the inky waves lapping against the wooden legs of the pier suited her similarly muddled thoughts. Luke was gone. Luke, who’d once been her best friend and her family, who’d gone on to try to destroy the world. Luke, who had sacrificed himself at the last minute to save the world he’d put in danger. Luke, who’d been brought back from the dead to this sleepy little town. And now he was gone again. She tried to tell herself she was happy about it. His presence had brought back memories and feelings of hurt and guilt and anger that she thought she’d set aside a long time ago, and she’d avoided him so she wouldn’t be caught up in all the confusion emotions he evoked in her. But she’d wanted to be able to move past their history, too. She’d wanted to...if not become friends again, at least be able to face him without remembering that horrible day he’d looked her straight in the eye and threatened to slit Annabeth’s throat. And now he was gone. Thalia released a small, incoherent scream and released a burst of electricity into the sky. Malcolm Reyonlds had spent most of his life going nowhere in particular. Life for him had become a long series of misadventures that, at least generally speaking, had been about following the trail of fine monies to the tune of full tanks and equally as full stomachs. Of course, all that had changed since he and evidently, a good collection of his crew, some of whom had been dead, ended up yanked into a quaint little town - a quaint little town without space travel. He was still large at a loss with himself as to what to do, or where to go. Most days he simply followed his gut and paid close eye to the network on the weird communicator they’d given him. This town just seemed so...so…wholesome. Worst he’d seen was someone letting loose the local varmint population, and even that was little more than a nuisance and a bit of waste that needed cleaning. There wasn’t even so much as a speck of decent, upstanding, crime in the whole town. That had a way of making decent, upstanding, criminals like himself really figure out how they were supposed to fit. It was why he’d made his way through town tonight. It had become a nightly ritual of sorts to patrol the town. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, simply accepting that most clandestine things did tend to have a way of happening when the world was made of considerably less light. He wasn’t really sure how to go about finding it, what with the majority of contacts of his living in an entirely differently galaxy long after Earth was exhausted… Of course, what he’d found tonight, which was evidently someone who seemed so upset they could go shooting lightning into the sky, was nothing like what he’d been looking for, but Mal Reynolds couldn’t imagine anyone who would actually go looking for that in the first place. Of course, Malcolm Reynolds was hardly most people and that might have explained why, instead of doing the sensible thing and turning around, he continued moving right on forward toward the display. Mal cleared his throat, announcing his presence before he spoke. “You know, can’t say I ever seem a folk so twisted about that they actually had the power to go shootin’ off such a fine display of fancy fireworks - ‘course, mind you, can’t say I’ve seen a lot of things that this place has to offer.” Mal hooked his thumbs into his belt and decided to engage the conversation further, but kept his posture clearly guarded and defensive. Laser pistols were one thing and, what he’d just seen? Well, that was something else entirely. “Don’t suppose you got a mind to indulge a stranger as to what’s given you such a powerful urge to strike lightnin’ at the sky, would you? I mean, it ain’t exactly every day you get to see some of Mother Nature’s own medicine tossed back at her and, I figure, anyone with the power enough to do so who actually does? Well, they’re probably havin’ a worse day than I could dream up and, in the interest of keepin’ this town standing, how’s about sharin’?” Thalia whirled around, electricity still crackling at her fingertips. It cast a blue-white glow on her face, revealing the anger and anguish there. For a moment she looked ready to discharge another lightning bolt, this time at the intruder. Old habits died hard, especially when she was already worked up. Once she realized that the man standing there wasn’t a threat, however, she took a deep, calming breath and eventually the electricity faded away. She looked much younger without the power at her fingertips, much more the fifteen years of age she was stuck at, although she carried herself with much more confidence than a normal teenaged girl. She studied him for a moment, then leaned back against the railing with a little too much of a casual air. “Oh, you know, letting off some steam,” Thalia said with a studied shrug. “Some people go for a run; I shoot lightning at the sky. Same thing.” “That a fact?” Mal quipped, his brow raised in genuine surprise. “Sounds like a mighty fine gift that a man would do well to make sure he wasn’t on the wrong side of.” Considering this girl was all about putting the facts pretty well out in front, Mal decided to respond in kind. Besides, he respected a girl who could shoot lightning out of her hands and was forced to seriously consider just how sensible being dishonest would really be -- which was to say not at all. “Well, then, I suppose the next question would be just what’s lit a fire under you to get you so ready and raring to strike out at the sky. Mind you, don’t mean to pry, certainly not if it’s going to ‘cause some offense.” It was one of those times since his arrival, one of the ones which had been relatively frequent, where Mal found himself reaching for the comforts of his pistol. Finding it absent, Mal was forced to offer a rather quick smile. This, standing here, poking into business that wasn’t his own with a girl who had powers well beyond what he could conceive, was decidedly not his best idea ever. However, it did occur to Malcolm Reynolds that it might be in the best interest of the town if he helped this girl calm down before she turned her talents on things other than skies and clouds. To think, there were people out there who claimed he was selfish. Mal smiled, to himself, on the inside. It was high time he did a little bit of good, clandestine, good. The move for his gun didn’t go unnoticed by Thalia, who had an eye for such gestures, as subtle as they might be. Her life often depended on her ability to see her opponent go for their weapons or just plain attack, given that her opponents tended to be of the monstery sort. The man in front of her wasn’t a monster, she knew that. She recognized him now that she’d had a chance to calm down a little. Malcolm Reynolds - she’d watched the show he was on. Even Hunters who lived in the woods got access to Netflix every now and then. “Relax, I’m not going to zap you,” she told him, even though she knew he wasn’t the sort to just take her word for it. She wiggled her fingers, which were completely back to normal, to show him. “See?” She hadn’t answered his question yet, and she hadn’t intended to, but in that moment she realized that she didn’t really have anyone else to talk to about it. There was Annabeth, sure, but she wanted to seem strong for Annabeth. “One of the people I know got taken back by the portal,” she finally admitted. “To be honest, it ain’t so much me I’m worried about.” Mal finally replied. “I figure a good shot of the Lord’s fury is just the kind of insanity I need to wake me up outta whatever bad dream this place happens to be..” He kept his hands up, taking his first step towards her. Hearing someone promise not to shoot you was one thing, but in his experience it didn’t really account for much. “The way I see it though, there’s probably a good number of locals who take a strong disagreement to that notion.” Mal continued the thought. “Even with the local rash of disappearances to who knows where, and them I’m a bit concerned for.” It had happened to him too, with Inara. He’d been so turned about by it that, by the time he’d really sat down to think about it, she’d already been back again. It was strange, but this whole place was strange. No starships, wrong sky, never mind being on Earth-that-was, there were even bona fide hero types runnin’ around -- which apparently included young looking people who could shoot lightning. “Place is a might strange in no mistake.” Mal offered in sympathy. “Always people comin’ and goin’, hard to tell which way is up with all the fuss and rumble. Makes it hard to find a steady rhythm for your walkin’, like a ship whose stabilizer has decided to take a bit of a walkabout.” He took another cautious step forward. “Where I’m from, it ain’t exactly normal to see people blowin’ off their steam in such a visual way -- tends to be a bit more like fightin’ -- exactly, like fightin’, or drinkin’ -- be a fair share of that too, ‘course, others take to company but, last I checked, nowhere was there shootin’ off like that. That common where you from?” Because where else could he go except, hopefully, to somewhere happy for the girl? It worked, in a sense. The place where Thalia came from wasn't exactly happy at the moment - not with Gaea trying to destroy the world. But thinking about that meant not thinking about Luke, and Thalia's feelings about world destruction were a lot more straightforward than her feelings about Luke. Besides, now that she had a chance to gather herself, she could regain some of her usual swagger - or at least pretend to. "What, throw around lightning?" Thalia shook her head. "Nah. I'm special that way." She smirked at him, then continued, "But there's a bunch of us that can do all sorts of cool things. Pretty different from what you're used to, huh?" “That’s one way of puttin’ it.” Mal chimed. “An a fairly mild one at that. Mind you, there ain’t a whole lot I woulda say coulda surprised me, not after the last run of luck me and mine seemed to have, but bein’ pulled back to a place that’s been well and truly passed? Well, it’s got a real knack for gummin’ up the works of regular thinkin’.” His smile never faded as he contined to speak. “‘Course, it does come with a small measure of comfort to know that it ain’t all too common where anyone’s from, for the types such as yourself to be runnin’ about every which way. Can’t imagine that makes the world an easier place for you though, does it?” "It kinda does, honestly," Thalia said with a shrug. "There are no monsters trying to eat us, no war to fight, no Mother Earth rising up to destroy the world. It's just really boring." She gave him a rueful smile; she had a feeling he'd understand. "I mean, when you spend your whole life doing one thing, no matter how sucky it is, it's kind of hard to suddenly...not have to do it." Mal chuckled warmly. “You’re tellin’ me. I’m used to spendin’ my days humpin’ through a whole different set of stars and, while I ain’t exactly gonna complain to be back on the planet it all started from, nor the distinct lack of violence and people here who take a real fancy to the sufferin’ of others -- or even the hot food for that matter -- it’s still a mighty strange position to find ourselves in.” He took another hesitant step forward. “But you got monsters huh? I can swallow that. I’ve been to war with a whole mess of monsters in my time too..” Mal’s voice drifted slightly. It wasn’t every day he talked about the war and, in fact, most days he outright refused. He was keeping her talking though, which seemed to help alleviate some of the desire for her to shoot lightning. Mal considered that a plus. “Problem is, most monsters I knew have a damned unfortunate habit of wearing human faces. ‘Course, five minutes with ‘em will show you what they’re really capable of..” Particularly cruel and vicious men like Niska took less time, and Mal shuddered at the memory. “..but that’s often five minutes better spent don’ just about anything else.” Mal halted his advance, his thumbs still hooked into the belt loops at his waist. “Name’s Malcolm Reynolds.” He offered. “Normally I’d say Captain, and normally, I’d have a ship to justify that title. Seein’ as I don’t, how’s about we just drop it down to Mal like most folks, hm? And, while we’re on the topic of bein’ friendly and less startlin’, who’re you?” "Thalia," came the simple reply. She said her name as if there were all there was to it. Like Madonna. She watched his careful approach with the easy confidence of someone much older and settled, and quirked a smile. "Don't worry, Captain. I'm done with the temper tantrum now. I'll still call you captain, I think. You can take the man out of the ship, but not the ship out of the man and all that." “Truer words are things you’d be hard pressed to find.” Mal offered with a smile. “Even in such a place all tossed about, like this one is, and I appreciate the respect, even if I ain’t exactly got the means to prove it’s earned.” He took her advice too, finally letting himself relax fully. “So, tantrums aside Thalia, how’s about a story? This place seems to have a real, raw, habit of bein’ all manner of rude when it comes to the folks who’ve been sucked into it. Don’t s’pose you’d wanna tell me about this friend of yours, the one who’s up and disappeared on you?” Mal glanced down at the end of the dock. “Also, don’t suppose you’d mind if we gave ourselves a bit of a rest? Standin’ ain’t nothin’ I’m unfamiliar too, but I find all manner of talkin’ tends to go smoother when you’ve got a more comfortable posture.” Thalia thought of Luke, and how he’d gone from being her best friend and the first and only boy she’d ever liked to becoming a traitor, murderer and would-be destroyer of the world, and her smile faded. Given how complicated her feelings were, she didn’t think she was ready to share them with anyone either, even with a friendly, morally grey stranger. “Tell you what,” she said, forcing a lightness to her tone, “How about we go to Granny’s for hot chocolate, and I tell you about the time I killed a Cyclops?” |