tushanshu | fourteen : taken away to the dark side [video]

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fourteen : taken away to the dark side [video]

[The room is dark and Hayley's face is only vaguely visible, lit only by the glow of the console's screen. She sounds tired, posting in the middle of the night. Someone paying really, really close attention might notice the Flash pajama bottoms she's wearing or the Superman cape, courtesy of Jor-El, strung about her shoulders like a blanket.]

I don't know if someone else already said this, but in case they didn't? Bart Allen and Kon-El are both gone. Back home, not missing.

[A beat.] Will someone bring me some food? I haven't really eaten for awhile.

[ooc: Assume Hayley's been ~~angsting~~ avoiding everyone for a few weeks. Feel free to assume check-ins or other interactions. I was hiatused a lot and am still slow, sorry!]

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[There's a sudden, albeit brief, flash of disappointment and dejectedness on her expression as the sphere first disappears. When it appears again beside her, she can't even pretend to be angry about it. Instead, Hayley embraces a facade of apathy and leaves it at that.

When he leans back to gain an air of authority, she immediately recoils. Acting as a teacher is one thing, but this pseudo parental concern is something else entirely.]

Okay, first? I'm not drowning in a dark hole. Yeah, I'm grieving. I lost my best friend and my boyfriend in the same week. But it's not like I'm cutting myself, starving, and singing along to Fall Out Boy in some dark corner somewhere.

[She knows and doesn't care that the receive will probably go above his head. He'll understand the concept and that's really all she needs.]

Second? Even if I was being all angst all the time, it's none of your business. And okay, whatever, I lied about the sphere, but I still haven't broken it and I'm not exactly in the mood for more pointless failing when I can just focus on work and photography and reading and whatever other dumb hobbies I want to have instead.

No?

[He lifts an eyebrow.]

You admitted to not having eaten in some time. You obviously haven't left your apartment at least as long. You also obviously haven't done much in the way of work, photography, reading and whatever other dumb hobbies you might have. Finally, my dear, it is my business. To put it bluntly, you entered into a contract with me when you asked to be taught. You cannot simply reject that responsibility so cavalierly when it becomes inconvenient to you.

Yeah, I haven't eaten much in the last.. however long it's been, but it's not like I didn't eat at all. And news flash? I've been going to work almost every night. At night. Which is probably why you didn't see if you're watching me all day like a creep. My schedule is totally crazy right now, but I'm still doing things.

[Like sleeping most of the day, working at night, and occasionally tinkering with Kon's goggles.

She frowns down at the food he brought, picking up the spoon and poking at it before dropping the utensil again. Her fingers move to idly curl around the desk's edge as before, enchanted with the darkness, as always.]

As for the whole contract thing.. [She looks over to him.] If you're being all protective and caring, we can talk about it or whatever, but if you're seriously pulling the teacher card? No thanks. I want to learn, but I seem to remember listing 'not selling my soul' as an explicit condition.

So you've maintained the minimum social interaction. Good for you.

[So very dry, but he doesn't break gaze, either. He also speaks calmly, and patiently, but sternly.]

How about maintaining a basic sense of responsibility as well? You want to learn, yet you expect to learn without having to commit. That isn't how it works. I don't need your soul--just a certain level of your attention. If you aren't willing to give it, then it's my responsibility as your teacher to get it.

You're a child who wants to be treated as an adult. You can either act like an adult and commit to the responsibilities you yourself have requested, or accept being a child who needs to be led by the hand. You can't have it both ways.

[His patronizing sarcasm isn't lost on her and Hayley frowns, pointedly and irritably. The misery and frustration only deepens as he continues and the girl begins sincerely weighing her options: try to change the subject and move on, admit to how deeply it's hurting her and try to work through it, avoid him and everything else.. They're all appealing in their own ways, if she's honest with herself.]

This isn't me deciding to skip school for a few days because I want to go to Universal Studios or play video games. I'm not telling you to teach me when I want and not when I don't. I wanted to and now I- [Her voice catches. She wants to say that she doesn't want to learn anymore, to explain that she's changed her mind and it's not a whim, but she's pretty sure that's not true. Learning his magic is one of the few things she does still want in the sea of misery she's navigating and trying desperately to find her way out of without ever admitting to being lost in it.]

Whatever. You treat me like a kid no matter what I do, so it doesn't really matter, does it?

It always matters.

[He says it quietly, quiet but not foreboding; at least not in any way directed at Hayley. This is more reserved, dark like the past is darkened, an old scar prodded.]

When there's nothing left, all one has to control is one's own conduct. Whether the world sees you as child, woman, adult worthy of respect--that matters pittance, true. What will make the difference is whether you choose to act in a manner worth their attention, regardless of whether that attention is given or not.

[He indicates her room, and her self, with a sweeping hand.]

This is not such a manner.

[He looks at her again, and now he's more composed, less as if the glint in his eyes is obsidian and more that it might be good humour.]

And I assure you, my dear, if I were treating you like a child, you would have grown tired of me long before now.

Okay, first? I'm not your dear. I really doubt anything about me is dear to you. And second? What if I don't want their attention? What if I want to skate by in the background and not be anyone or anything? Why am I supposed to be someone?

[Because, thus far, being someone has only ended up hurting. Being no one was easy, albeit admittedly less interesting and somewhat lonely. But being part of a group of heroes or the girl who was murdered or any of it was awful and frustrating. She released her hands from the desk and pulled her feet up to cross in the limited space of the chair. Her fingers curled around her feet instead, a subconscious and metaphorical gesture to protect herself.]

You might be surprised by what I consider precious.

[Quietly, and without shifting his gaze. But he does lean forward, elbows on his knees, to regard her for quite a while without speaking. When he finally does it's measured and very controlled.]

When I was fourteen I lost my father, my only family. His death resulted in my inheritance being stolen from me and my being turned out onto the street. I could have given up. I could have run away, hidden, pretended that there was nothing of the world I wished to explore. I could have pretended I wasn't someone. I didn't. Why? Because I was someone to him, and I did not want his faith in me to be meaningless.

[Maybe there were some white lies in there. Maybe it was boiling a complicated circumstance down to something simplistic. Maybe it was conflating the struggles of four centuries. Right now, that didn't particularly matter in comparison to the point Solomon needed to make.]

[Solomon's seeming candor and honesty surprise her. Hayley leans forward to mirror him, first listening and then mulling over his words. It doesn't take long. His story is nearly impossible for her to relate to and, for the first time, she's all too willing to be blunt about that fact.]

I lost my dad a few years ago. My mom was present, but never there, if you know what I mean. His death? Was the best thing that ever happened to me. Being homeless sucks and I'm not trying to say your life was all sunshine and rainbows or whatever, but I wasn't anyone to anyone until stupid Bart and look how that turned out.

[Her brows twist and contort into an expression of anger and she turns to glance at the food. In petulant impulse, she shoves a hand out, sending the bowl tumbling away from the table toward the floor and the porridge within cascading across the carpet.]

I don't want your sympathy and I don't want your food. So, fine. We made a deal, right? Teach me. I'll do the homework and I'll practice and everything else so I can learn to do it right. But that's it. I'm your student. Not your kid or your charity case or some stray you have to take care of. Got it?

[Solomon watches the food go spinning with an impassive expression. For all Hayley's sudden violence it's still a better response than the sullen denial. Now they were getting somewhere. Now she could actually focus on something other than missing people no longer present. That sort of grief took time to ease, true; but it never did so when it took all one's attention.]

Yet you were still someone to someone. That should be worth enough to you to keep being so, regardless whether they're still here or not.

[He straightens up, sitting back and speaking calmly.]

Of course. That's all I asked.

[He holds out his hand and the sphere dissolves and materialises in his hand. He concentrates a moment, adding a little more density to the sphere--as well as a command. He tosses it back to Hayley.]

The sphere will prod you three times a day for attention. It will subside after a good concentrated half-hour of work on it. I'll be by every second evening to review your progress and answer any questions you might have, or teach you a new trick.

[And make sure she'd eaten. She disdained being a 'stray'--but Solomon could counter that with needing to make sure his student was up to healthy academic standard.]

[The girl bristles when he mentions being someone to someone, the memory of Bart and all her neglect of him too fresh in her mind. That thing about not knowing what you have until it's gone seems relevant. It's only Solomon's choice to quickly move on to other subjects that distracts her from her anger.

Except then he's explaining his patronizing baby steps to her and the constant reminders and Hayley finds herself frustrated all over again just in time to catch the shadow. While she understands why he's doing it and might admit that someone keeping an eye isn't always such a bad thing, it feels condescending and she hates him for that.]

The sphere can remind me once a day and you can come by twice a week. No offense, but I really don't need to see that much of you and I want more time to practice - on my own, without being reminded. Oh and no more of that fucking creepy stepping out of the shadows in my bedroom thing. Come out downstairs and then knock like a normal person.

[Because stepping out of shadows in the living room is so normal.]

I will concede to using the door in future, but as to the rest, I am afraid you no longer have any say in how your learning occurs.

[Now he sounds stern.]

I gave you the leeway to learn in your own time. Frankly, the months you had were far more time than I would usually offer my students unsupervised, and apparently they did very little. If I feel you've made sufficient progress, then I'll cut back on my frequency of supervision; but it will be at my discretion, not yours.

[Hayley's brows drop into anger again. Without speaking, she lifts a hand and makes a quick gesture in the air. Without warning, the magic Sabriel has taught her surges forward, attempting to knock Solomon back as if he'd just been physically pressed by a solid object. As he's already sitting on the chair, it's only mean to disorient him and not to knock him off entirely. The girl's out to make a point, not to hurt him.]

You're not my only teacher and shadows aren't the only thing I'm studying. Honor student, remember? [She drops her hand and gives him an arrogant smirk, eyes narrowing a fraction.] So let's make a deal. You give me three days to break the orb. If I do it, then you agree to only meeting twice a week unless some special event comes up or whatever. If I don't, then your little ball can send reminders and you can show up at my doorstep every day.

[The unexpected push makes him grunt and he catches himself with shadows before the chair falls, using them to reorient his chair without much in the way of overt manipulation. He does, however, raise an eyebrow. And then he smiles. It's amused, but while he is amused his eyes are warning.]

Learning the art of negotiation, are we? Very well; I agree to your terms. But make no mistake, Hayley--honour student or not, you are still under my authority in as far as your studies reach. You may not like it; but as long as you want to learn from me you will tolerate it, and you will afford me the same basic respect you demand in turn.

[He smiles then and it's friendly, as if there hadn't been anything warning in his voice at all. If she hates him, then she hates him; and that emotion would still be better than pining, as long as he can engage her far enough to move past the grief.]

Still hungry? I can get you something else, if you'd like.

[Hayley believes Solomon. She believes that he means every word and that, if she's not careful, he'll be all too happy to take control of her life completely. There's no fear or intimidation, however. Only caution. Having trained with the likes of Bruce Banner and Batman, having dealt with the repercussions of nearly killing Superman with Kryptonite, having dated Bart, Solomon's warnings fall mostly on deaf ears. Really, his accepting her terms in any way puts her ahead in her mind.

The girl has a knack for getting in over her head.]

Authority? Sure. Respect? That might be a little harder. It's not you. It's me. I'm not great at respecting people. [There's some truth to that.] I'm not saying no, I'm just saying you might have to tell me when I'm being disrespectful, you know?

[Solomon is experienced enough to let people think they have the upper hand. Where Hayley's concerned, the arrogance is going to drive the girl deeper if she isn't careful. Yet at the same time, the lack of fear only proves she's worth his time, irritating though the insolence is.]

I just did.

[He says it simply, and rises. There really isn't much else to say, if she doesn't want any food and doesn't realise obvious things a young lady of her intelligence ought to. In some ways, that sort of stubbornness was quite blinding.]

I'll check on you in three days, then.

Okay. [She replies, lifting her chin to display all the arrogance in the world. There's no doubt in her mind she can break it by then - at least in this moment, before she's had time to think about it, consumed by the competition and wanting to win.

Hayley falters ever so slightly when she realizes that he means to leave. Although she doesn't want the gross cardboard-like substance Solomon is trying to pass off as food and doesn't want to hear another lecture, she appreciates the company. She and Bart spent half their time arguing, truth be told, but the presence of someone else to disagree with was comforting in a way that her forced isolation had failed to relieve her of.]

Wait.

[Solomon pauses, letting the shadows he'd begun to summon dissolve.]

Yes?

[There's no good reason to ask him to stay, Hayley realizes, as she watches him there. Her only options are to admit her weakness directly or to quickly come up with some thinly veiled plea which they would both know the truth of. Eager for company or not, the girl knows in her heart that Solomon is not the person to seek out.]

Never mind. [She waves him away, offering a delicately crafted smile, mischievous in nature. As if her asking him to wait was only a test instead of an actual need.] Don't forget about the whole knocking thing, okay?

[He sees right through her, of course. But Solomon isn't good at comfort; he's good at providing impetus. She got a few responses on the network, and he's done his part--one of them would be far better at continued comfort than him. So he just smiles back, one as mischievous as hers but far more experienced.]

Of course not, my dear. I am a gentleman.

[With that he bows and as he straightens the shadows surround him and his laughing face, and he's gone.]

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fourteen : taken away to the dark side [video]

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