The Lord's Port had once been one of the most prominent shipyards and trading ports on the East Coast of the United States. Since before the nation had even been officially formed, Brockton's Bay (named for the city's founder, Lord Johnathon Brockton) had been a wealthy and well-kept city. At one point, despite being smaller in both footprint and population, it had been called 'The Jewel of the East' and considered a rival for New York itself.
Hundreds of ships, built and crewed by Brocktonites, had fought in every conflict from that of Independence all the way through to Vietnam. If Earth Aleph's Gulf War had occurred on here on Earth Bet, they would have fought there too. It was a city of prosperity, of progress. It was a city that had stridden towards the future with confidence and grace, its people proud and moral. Even the advent of the parahuman phenomenon had done little to stagger them for long.
Then, the Endbringers had come. Oh, none had attacked the city itself directly, thus far anyway, but the actions of Leviathan had been nothing short of devastating to international trade. Only the most powerful of nations still did so, and only with heavy guard forces deployed along the routes of travel. With its token Protectorate presence and the powerful gangs within, Brockton Bay could not guarantee any cargo delivered to the city would be defended from villains. So, 'The Jewel' was tarnished, left to rot away and become a haven of suffering and crime.
The once-bustling port was shut down and abandoned piece by piece as funds were exhausted or 'lost', and countless ships had been abandoned by their owners and crews to create The Ship's Graveyard, an eyesore of great proportions. Now, with only a handful of the port's former square-mileage still active, far less inspiring elements were wont to inhabit the decaying warehouses. Yet not only those who favored crime hid there.
Hidden within the rusting core of a cargo ship, in the deepest depths of the most central hold, something altogether different was occurring. Spiraling light of gold and silver danced through the salty air and formed complex designs of heart-stopping beauty. Animals cavorted and danced, plants blossomed and bloomed, and great sailing ships drifted glittering seas.
Amidst it all stood fourteen year old Taylor Hebert, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and hands alight with the energies she was commanding. In the time since her mother had been killed and the truth of her heritage had been revealed to her, every waking moment had been spent entirely on honing the skills of her bloodline. Crude Light constructs and playground spells had been easy enough, instinctual really. She probably could have gone out and beaten any gang-banger in the city like that, but she wasn't stupid enough to pick fights alone as someone with her young age at the time. So, with the guidance of her mother's notes, she had begun to intensify and expand her training regimen.
Healing, warding, far-sight, and Light-constructs were the primary foci of her efforts, though she put a great deal of effort into staying in shape as well. Granted, it was hardly a difficult task to keep her body as such, but it was the principle of the matter. Being a Nephilem made it virtually impossible for her to be anything but healthy, and despite her youth she (along with Emma, as it happened) was already receiving modelling requests from youth agencies. Thus far, she and her father had always refused to entertain such offers, despite the potential for wealth. She was going to continue having rapid physical changes until she turned sixteen, when it would slow drastically and eventually leave her perpetually at age 21, unless she chose otherwise. Which she wouldn't.
There were certainly worse fates, especially since (as a half Fallen Angel) she would certainly qualify as inhumanly beautiful. Fallen Angels, or at least those not part of the original Grigori, had Fallen mostly for earthly desires. That was as much a part of her as the little light show she was putting on at the moment. That being said, she had no desire to pop into bed with anyone for the time being, thank you very much, and she preferred to ignore that truth of her heritage with impressive determination.
The beeping of her watch's alarm drew her attention from her Light, and an absent flick of her fingers banished the coalesced power as she looked at her wrist and sighed in disappointment. It was time for her to be heading home, as by her father's decree she was to be in bed by ten ever during these waning weeks of summer vacation. He didn't care that she could probably go sleepless for days without feeling any ill effects. His daughter was going to be in bed by a reasonable hour, and she had better not even think about sneaking out! He had been married to a mischievous Fallen, and he was on to their tricks!
Carefully making her way through the corridors of her practice zone with the practiced speed and grace of a route well traveled, Taylor soon found herself standing on the deck of the rotting ship. A whispered spell confirmed for her that there was not a soul around, and she grinned eagerly as she manifested her wings. Despite being as darkly feathered as a raven's, they were by all other appearances the very image Mankind had envisioned as the wings of an angel. Large, graceful, streamlined, and delicately curved as they lay carefully folded on her back. Spreading them wide, she leapt skyward with glee in her heart. This was true freedom. This was a sensation that she lived for.
The magic, the healing, the looks…they were all fantastic perks of being what she was, but in her opinion being able to fly under her own power was the ultimate prize of her bloodline. Up here, in the sky with the wind and the stars surrounding her, she was separated from the world below and all of its problems. A brief freedom, perhaps, but an intoxicating one nonetheless. And brief it was, for her home had never been far from the docklands that were her father's damascene in the first place. At the pace which she could keep whilst aloft, which was significant even when trying to slow and enjoy the trip, it would take only a scant handful of minutes to traverse the distance.
Though only a few hundred feet in the air, the city below her looked so…small. At this hour, so long after the sun (and the relative safety that its' shining gaze brought) had vanished below the horizon, the streets were scarcely populated. There was little that could entice decent folk into forsaking the thin protection of their doors and walls, little to encourage them to venture out into the night that was ruled by the gangs who moved about unchallenged. Oh, how that knowledge burned, how recognizing the disparity of morality within her home rankled like nothing else! She loved Brockton Bay and its people with all her heart, and she hated how little those in positions of power could, or would, do to help the city that they had sworn an oath to.
She shook her head with a soft, somewhat bitter laugh, reflecting not for the first time on how much she had changed since her mother had died. Oh, she had always been a fairly serious child, if motor-mouthed, when she was younger. Her parents had made sure that she grew up prepared for her future, even if she hadn't known or understood at the time, but she knew that she had changed. The truth being revealed and her decision to become the mightiest hero in history had only reinforced those traits.
Rolling over to glide with her back to the ground (something only possible due to magic absently weaved around her), she turned her gaze to the stars. From darkness to light, from the past towards the future. She smiled softly as her mother's voice whispered in her mind, a favorite quote that she had long ago memorized: Shoot for the moon, little owl. Even if you can't reach it, you can still land amongst the stars. She might not succeed in everything she tried to do in her life, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying with every fiber of her being. To do otherwise would be to fail without trying, and she refused to do that! How could she, when her mother's final wish and final actions in this world had been to beg her to save it and given her the tools to do so? How could she someday look her mother in the eye and admit to such shame, simply because the task seemed to be difficult? She couldn't, and she wouldn't. She had made that promise a long time ago, and she fully intended to keep it.
Reaching out with sense beyond those of the physical realm, she latched onto the glimmering light that was her father's soul, banking towards it as she righted herself in the air. Granted, she didn't need to use him as a guiding beacon to find her own house, but doing things this way served more than one purpose. Not the least of which was that the 'taste' of someone's soul could tell her a great deal about that person. Their mental and emotional state, for example, would affect the strength of their soul noticeably. Tonight, as with any other night he waited for her, tendrils of concerns laced the devotion and love that was the core of his being.
It took only moments to arrive from there, back-winging to break her momentum as she touched down in her backyard. Giving her wings one last stretch, even going so far as to preen a bit, she curled them back into herself with profound regret. While it was purely mental, not having her wings out always made them feel so cramped when she next released them. It was, funnily enough, not a sensation that she was overly fond of experiencing. Glancing around with both mortal and magical means, she satisfied herself that no one had laid eyes upon her during her arrival and headed inside.
"Hit the shower, then its to bed with you. It's late enough as it is." Her father told her almost immediately, having been waiting just past the door for her to enter. Huffing at him in teenaged irritation, she slipped past and padded upstairs, stripping and dumping her clothes in the bin just outside the bathroom door. Turning on the water in the bath, she gave it time to warm before stepping in and swapping it over to shower. A heartfelt sigh of pleasure worked its way out of her chest as the warmth sank into her bones, a sensation she indulged in for several minutes before she set to work actually cleaning herself. While practicing magic could hardly make her sweaty like physical exercise could, a hot shower was non-the-less soothing and peaceful. A perfect way to end the day, that was for sure.
Half an hour later, she was ensconced in her pajamas and hugging her father goodnight. He would likely be up for a few hours yet, doing paperwork and such things, and she lamented to herself once again how hard he had to work to keep the DWA from collapsing into chaos or gang-hood. Hopefully she would find someway to turn things around for them once she was a hero, it was the very least she could do for the men and women who had stuck by her father through thick and thin for so many years. Those who had remained loyal to him personally, those who counted themselves friend or even family to the Director of Hiring and de-facto Boss.
Crawling into bed and curling up under the covers, she again turned her mind's efforts to her powers. While she could hardly perform grand-scale acts of the past few hours here within her room, she could instead focus on those aspects invisible to the naked eye. Mental acuity and precognition. Not her strongest field by a long shot, and thus far from reliable (especially when compared to powerful and experienced Thinkers), even partial glimpses of the future paths before her could prove imminently useful, and hopefully dedicated practice would increase her proficiency enough to reach her ultimate goal for the field: battlefield precognition.
To see the moves and strikes of an enemy before they were made, to know where and when she herself would strike. It would not replace trained skills in the arts of physical combat and a heavy dose of luck, but against the kind of men and women she would inevitably do battle with it was sure to be beneficial. Even with her heritage, even with the breakneck pace she had forced herself to keep, there were still titans in the world. Still individuals and beings that dwarfed her in power and experience. Moord Nag, Ash Beast, The Nine, Heartbreaker, and more besides. Never mind the God-damned Endbringers! Oh, she would outstrip all of them eventually, but that could take far to long for there to still be a world to save! No, best to train in whatever methods could tip the balance in her favor by any measurement.
Evening her breathing, she gently reached into herself to find that font of power at the core of her soul, drawing forth a small but strong and steady stream of energy. Farsight was not an art to approach with pure force, but rather dexterity and control. Two traits that she was still lacking in despite the intricacies of her earlier display. Macro-control and micro-control were vastly different in effort and methodology, she had quickly found. Casting out her power as a fisherman would his line, she waited patiently for the tell-tale tug before following the thread to what it had found. In an instant, she was no longer in bed.
It was a happy image, this potential future. One of her father in their living room, laughing more freely than she had seen since her mother had been killed. With him were two women, smiling warmly at his joy, each holding one of his hands. One clearly had dusky skin and almond eyes, while the other had brown hair and eyes and was rather paler than her female companion. The image faded away, the thread dissipating and returning to her core, and she found herself frowning lightly as she considered what she had just seen. This was, of course, only a possible future, and barely a glimpse of one at that. Hardly reliable, but the fact that it had so quickly answered the call of her power indicated that it was significant and probable. The problem was, of course, that she had no idea how it might come to pass. She had no problem with her father finding love again, she was mature enough to know that it was what her mother would have wanted. Hell, she wouldn't mind him being so happy again! If her mother wasn't able to do it for him, then he was more than free to find someone who could, even if part of her wanted to selfishly hog all of his attentions.
It wasn't as if she could go out one day and find these two women and bring them home to her father! It would be terribly awkward to explain, for one thing, and forcing it would probably destroy the happy future she had foreseen. If only she had more control, then she could scry these women more directly! But scrying individual people, especially strangers, wasn't something the notes she had unlocked thus far went into any detail about. In fact, all her mother had told her so far was that she shouldn't even try yet!
Grumbling to herself in frustration, Taylor allowed her self to relax and drift off to sleep.
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Daniel 'Danny' Hebert, Head of Hiring and de-facto Director of the Dockworker's Association, sighed heavily with an exhaustion that had very little to do with either the hour or the pile of paperwork he was resolutely working his way through. No, it instead was an exhaustion centered around his daughter.
Ever since her mother had died, she had changed rather significantly. Oh, she still had a tendency to motormouth on occasion, still fiercely loved both knowledge and people, but now she existed in a constant state of training. She was obsessed with becoming more powerful, and if it wasn't for her reasons in doing so he would be terrified that she was taking after the worst examples of Annette's race. Regardless, she was pushing people away without realizing it, Emma in particular. No less than a dozen times in the last two months, Alan had come to him with concerns on his family's behalf about Taylor's mental and emotional health.
Obviously, he couldn't tell them the truth of what was going on, which led to extremely thin and transparent excuses that had begun to strain friendships all around. He would have to do something about that soon, because he really rather doubted that Taylor had even the slightest hint of what was occurring, so focused was she on her goal. She probably didn't even realize that she hadn't hung out with Emma outside of school in weeks, and he didn't doubt that she appeared to be somewhat out of it when they were together.
Ah, Annette, what would you do or say right now? He mused longingly, kneading his forehead. His wife had always been better about talking to Taylor, had always known just what to say to the strong-willed girl. If nothing else, she would have known more about being a Fallen Angel than he did, and could have guided and reined in Taylor's insane work ethic far better than he could. But, he suddenly thought to himself, she isn't the only one who knows how to keep a handle on Taylor.
He couldn't try and force her not to train, he knew that. Trying to forbid her from becoming a hero like her mother had encouraged her to be? All that would do was escalate the situation and breed resentment. The best chance he had of persuading her to live a more healthy lifestyle would be to point out how hurt and worried Emma was for her, and Taylor would partially cave. She would end up telling Emma everything, and Emma would put her foot down and insist on being Taylor's damage control. Any resistance Taylor had to that would cave when Emma voiced her fears aloud, and the situation would be resolved handily.
He considered asking Emma to convince Taylor to join the Wards, but discarded the notion promptly thereafter. Neither living Hebert was known for effusive praise of the PRT ENE branch (despite acknowledging all the issues it faced, such as its miniscule hero-to-villain ratio), and there was a virtual certainty that they would eventually recognize the similarities between Taylor's abilities and those displayed by a former Lustrum lieutenant and Independent Vigilante. Being discovered as the daughter of a former pseudo-villain would hardly create a welcoming work environment, and as Taylor got stronger her life would become even more restrictive and monitored. No, that way lay disaster.
Much as he disliked the idea on the instinctual level, he knew that soon enough his only child would be out and about hunting criminals of the dangerous sort. The only reassuring factor of it all was the fact that Taylor literally wasn't human, and as such was a great deal safer than nearly anyone in the city. Stronger, faster, and more durable than any 'normal' could dream of being (and on par with most capes as she was), it would take dedicated effort and significant firepower to hurt her, and she was smart enough not to hold still for anyone who was powerful enough to be a threat.
Maybe I should get Emma some help. I know Annette had a few friends from the old days living in the area, maybe some of them have kids Taylor's age. His expression of tired stress morphed into one of thoughtful contemplation as he considered it. She could always use more friends, even if she never tells them the truth about herself. And if she does tell them the truth, they can certainly work to keep her safe in 'civilian' times.
A plan forming swiftly in his mind, he attacked his remaining paperwork with renewed vigor, intent on dispensing his fatherly duties come morning, whether his daughter liked it or not.
###############################################################
"Emma will be over this afternoon for a sleepover, and another girl as well." Her father decreed bluntly as Taylor sat down for breakfast the next morning, ignoring the shocked and annoyed look she gave him in response. "Her mom, and a few other people my age, will be visiting for the afternoon. They're old friends of mine or your mom's from collage, so I thought I would introduce you."
"A playdate, Dad. Really? I don't have time for that kind of stuff anymore, and I'm fifteen years old!" she started to protest, but he uncharacteristically spoke right over her, unmoved by her still-born complaints.
"This isn't negotiable, Taylor! I've let you spend six plus hours a day training for the last year because of your dedication to being a hero and honoring your mother. I know it helps you feel closer to her, like she's still here." Taylor's breath caught in her chest at that. She had never said it aloud, but perhaps it shouldn't have surprised her that he knew anyway. He was hardly a stupid person, and parents often seemed to know things about their children that had never been said aloud. "Did you know Emma has been having nightmares over the last couple of months because she thinks you're suicidal? Alan told me she looked stuff up on the internet and thinks you match all the signs. You've not spent any quality time with her, or anyone else for that matter, in far to long to be healthy. I'm putting my foot down."
Taylor paled and blanched terribly, looking suitably horrified by these revelations, and a part of Danny felt darkly vindicated. Maybe now she would realize just how much pain she had been causing those around her. Sure, he worked long hours and wasn't exactly known for his socialization prowess (especially since his angel had died), but he hadn't shut anyone out as totally as Taylor had.
For Taylor, the knowledge that she had caused such pain in her dearest friend was agonizing. She hated it when the people she loved were sad or unhappy, and she loathed being the cause of said pains. Her mind raced as she reviewed the last few weeks, and grimaced in disgust as she realized she hadn't spent time with Emma outside of school in…well, quite a while. They had barely hung out since summer vacation had started, although staying home from camp had meant they hung out a few days all in a row. She hadn't thought about it before, in hindsight it was obvious that Emma would fear the worst. Without the requisite knowledge of Taylor's true nature, and thus her training regimen, the redhead had been left with only her imagination and the internet to guide her. Obviously not the best combination for calming oneself down when one is worried. She had been so focused on gaining power to protect those that she cared for, that she had been the one hurting them instead! An anathema, the exact opposite of her purpose!
A part of her thought that Emma really ought to know her better than to assume she was suicidal, but then again (from the various forms of media she herself had seen featuring depression or suicidal individuals) the assumption wasn't too outlandish. Her personality, as far as Emma could tell, had changed drastically. More reclusive, always quiet or withdrawn, absent-minded, secretive…yes, she could see how all of that could paint a far-from-pretty picture for someone. Never mind Emma, who was blessed with a creative mind and cursed with an over-active imagination.
"Fine, how many people are we talking about, and is it just the two for the sleepover?" she conceded with a sigh, not entirely disappointed to spend some time with Emma. Even if it did cut into her training for a couple of days. Hmm, maybe she really was overdoing it, if she was adding grudging comments like that to her own thoughts…
"Just the two girls, their parents, and three or four other adults. I expect you to be a polite and gracious hostess for at least a little while down here, but then you kids can head up to your room or go for a walk. Something other than training." He replied, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, she was going to be polite, they had raised her better than to ignore or be rude to guests. The idea of meeting another girl her age was intriguing, however, despite her nervousness.
She had never needed anyone other then Emma in her life. She had never felt it was necessary to expand her circle of friends, never felt that the youngest Barnes was insufficient company. Still, it probably couldn't hurt to have more friends. It wasn't like she would care about Emma any less, after all! Nothing could make her do that!
"I suppose I should go neaten up my room then. Do some training too, while I can." She said finally, only to stop as he grabbed her arm gently.
"No training today, Taylor, I mean it. Deal with your room and read a book or something, but no training. Alright?" this was said more in a pleading tone than a commanding one, and she sighed again gustily before nodding in acquiescence. Her Dad didn't ask much of her nowadays, and she had already decided taking some time off from training would be okay…
Trudging up to her room, she reflected that it wasn't all bad. She would have to get used to a new schedule anyway, what with their upcoming freshman year of high school. Her vacation had passed swiftly, it seemed, something that she found she didn't appreciate anymore now than she did when she was younger. Of course, back then she wanted an eternal summer to play with Emma, and now she wanted it so that she could training and become a hero. Despite the change, however, she was sure she would have plenty of time outside of school to focus on what was really important. Winslow High, her choice of schools, was more known for gangs than it was academic excellence. Oh, it was fully accredited and all that, but compared to Arcadia and Immaculata it was assuredly not the horse to bet on in a competition.
She could have gone to either of those other schools, even skipped a grade if she wanted too, and a part of her had been immensely tempted. Arcadia had been tempting just to see if she could meet and befriend people who turned out to be Wards, but that would have meant leaving Emma behind in Winslow by herself. Immaculata, on the other hand, had been tempting for far less pure reasons (if attending a school just to be friends with the local teen heroes called be 'pure'). She was a Fallen Angel, and though her mother's generation of Fallen had done so for rather more noble reasons than those that followed them in later generations, she was still Fallen. The idea of going to a Catholic, girls-only school and corrupting them had been put forth by a darker, lustier portion of her mind. As always when such things happened, Taylor told her hormone-fueled Fallen side to shut up and get back in its corner where it belonged. She was to young for that kind of thing, damnit, and she was trying to emphasize the Angel rather than the Fallen part of her heritage.
It wasn't easy. It helped that she appeased it by thinking that tutoring Emma to the level where they could both transfer to Immaculata next year seemed like a good idea, just to get out of Winslow.
Looking around her room, she considered what might or might not need to be hidden away before her guests arrived. Most of the doodles she had done could stay, she imagined most people doodled angels at one point or another. She didn't doubt that people doodled angels beating the crap out of the major villains of the world too. Her mother's journals would need to be secured, because while she didn't know if anyone besides herself could read them, having an enormous library of blank but clearly used notebooks and binders was suspicious. She would need to vacuum, too, because (camping cots or not) she didn't want guests sleeping on a floor that was anything but spotless. Speaking of the camping cots, she would have to pull them out of the basement and let them air out for a few hours. They likely were a bit musty after being left in their boxes for so long.
Several hours (and a hot shower) later, a nervous Taylor was awaiting the arrival she both dreaded and anticipated. Her father, despite his ambush of socialization, had at least had the foresight to invite the Barnes family to arrive some fifteen minutes before the other guests. Plenty of time for Taylor to explain herself to her sister. The problem was, she didn't know exactly what to say. She didn't want to lie to Emma, especially not after having ignored her for so long, but she wasn't sure it was a good idea to tell her everything immediately either. Fears of putting Emma in danger aside, she wasn't willing to bet on Emma's ability to act natural in front of strangers if she found out her best friend was half-Angel. As such, the best plan was probably to tell her a partial truth: that she had been studying to tutor Emma out of Winslow for their sophomore year.
A knock on the door had her attention drawn out of herself, and she took a steadying breath as it opened to reveal the object of her contemplations standing there with her parents. Curtly greeting her father, Emma swept into the building and grabbed her by one arm, half-dragging her towards the stairs. A somewhat pleading look to her father was utterly ignored as he abandoned her to her fate: Death By Lecture.
"Alright, start talking, and it had damn well better be good. No bullshit, no lying, got it?" the redhead growled out as soon as Taylor's bedroom door shut behind them, eyes smoldering with anger and disappointment well-contained. An expression and tone that she had never before directed at Taylor, who found that she rather wished that was still the case. It hurt more than she had expected to face such a thing from Emma, and the idea of lying was fully removed from her mind. She owed Emma more than that.
"I'm sorry, Ems. I never meant to hurt you like this, I promise you that. I've been so busy with other things that I didn't realize how much time had passed or how much I was neglecting you. I can't apologize enough, but I promise to try and avoid ever doing it again." Taylor ducked her head a little in contrition, every syllable seeping with sincerity, and Emma eyed her unhappily before nodding in acceptance.
"That's a start, but if you think I'll forgive you without an explanation, you've got another thing coming. You scared the hell out of me, Taylor!"
"I know, and I wish I could tell you everything right now, but I can't." Taylor sighed, before holding up her hands in supplication as Emma's gaze sharpened and her mouth opened, doubtless to let her know just what she thought about that particular statement. "I really can't, it's a long story and one that needs privacy. What I can tell you is that, amongst the other things, I've been studying to try and tutor you so we can test out of Winslow at the end of the year."
"Fine, fine." This partial explanation seemed to mollify Emma, who at least understood that Taylor was being genuine about the seriousness of the situation, and a moment later the two girls were hugging tightly with damp eyes. "This story of yours had better be good, or you're gonna get it.
Taylor laughed softly, pulling away from the hug and handing her a tissue to clean herself up with, getting a small but grateful smile in response. The next few minutes were spent sitting closely to one another and chatting quietly about any number of subjects, not the least of which that Emma was greatly interested in being a student at Winslow for the shortest time frame possible. Hardly surprising, of course, given the school's reputation.
"So, what do you know about this new girl that your dad wants us to meet?" Emma asked finally, as they got up and started to head downstairs again. "I mean, do we know anything about her?"
"Nope, just that her mom was friends with my parents and he wants me to meet her. I mean, I guess it could be worse. I don't have any issues with more friends, even if I don't need them. After all, I've got you." Taylor shrugged lazily, utterly unaware of how her words could be taken for the uninformed. Fortunately, both she and Emma knew that neither of them would ever see the other as anything but a sibling. They had been sisters their whole lives, and obviously nothing could ever change that.
It didn't take long for the subject of their curiosity to arrive with who could only be her mother. The relation between them was clear, they could even have been twins as they had the same long, straight chocolate brown hair and slim builds. The elder of the two joined the adults while the younger forged a direct path to the other two teens, a warm and welcoming smile on her face.
"My name's Charlotte, please to meet you! My mom has told me all about you! I'm sure we'll get along great!" she told Taylor cheerfully, shaking the disguised Nephilem's hand with both of her own, before turning to Emma and doing the same with her. "You must be Emma! Nice to meet you as well! I hope we can be friends!"
"Do right by us and I can guarantee it." There was a hint of warning in Emma's tone, though the genuine smile took the edge off of it, and Charlotte scoffed and waved one hand as if to dismiss the very idea of doing otherwise. Taylor couldn't help but wonder if this was what she was like during her more…energetic moments when she was younger. She now had a profound respect for the difficulties Emma had gone through. "C'mon, let's head upstairs and ditch the circle of ancients over there."
Giggling in amusement, the trio headed upstairs and into Taylor's room, wherein they began to get to know one another. Emma and Taylor regaled Charlotte with more than a few stories of their exploits, and Charlotte explained how her mom had met Annette. Apparently, a jock had been annoying a thoroughly uninterested Claire (Charlotte's mother) when Annette had put her foot into his groin from behind with devastating force. This had, obviously, made quite the impression on Claire (and one of an entirely different kind on the jock too, Charlotte added with a cackle) and they had ended up swapping room mates to get into the same room together. They had, apparently, been inseparable after that, at least until graduation. Then life had taken them different ways, even if they still talked on the phone or via email.
As the conversation grew longer, however, Taylor found herself growing uncomfortable and suspicious. Charlotte was endlessly making small comments here and there, ones that seemed innocuous or innocent but seemed to have a deeper meaning behind them. References to flying, capes, angels…anything that seemed connected to Taylor's heritage was thrown in whenever possible. The tension continued to grow before Emma finally caught on.
"Alright, what's going on between you two? We were having a good time, and now it looks like you guys are spending more time staring into one another's eyes than you are talking. Do you need some privacy, or what?" she groused, only half teasing, and found herself immensely amused when the dup squawked denials and blushed in unison, averting their gazes from one another for the first time in nearly an hour. "Now, seriously, what's going on?"
"Taylor is worried that I'm a threat, that I know to much about her and her mom, about who and what they really are." Charlotte responded, suddenly dead serious rather than jocular. The abrupt shift in mood seemed to shock Emma, and she glanced over at Taylor only to recoil in shock. There was an aura of power, even malice that clung to her like a cloak. Her eyes held a faint glow of Light, and golden sparks of lightning crawled between the fingers of one hand as she veritably glared at the interloper.
"Measure your next words carefully. I am not prone to rash action, but in a moment such as this I might forget myself." The oddly formal words were delivered with a voice that held the slightest hint of an echo, and Charlotte paled slightly before spreading her hands in a submissive, disarmed gesture.
"Maybe I shouldn't have teased you so much, but I've been looking forward to this moment for a long time. I wasn't lying when I said that our moms did everything together, Taylor. When your mom started running as an independent vigilante, my mom was the one who waited up at night for her to come home. She knew that there was a chance someone from her past might catch up to her, and she didn't want you to abandon everything in an effort to become a hero. Simply put, me and my mom were supposed to be your support base."
"Why now, why appear now, two years after my mother died? Why weren't you here then, if you had this divine mission to help me." Taylor's voice, while no longer thrumming with power, was still agitated and biting, and Charlotte scowled darkly.
"Because you don't have a monopoly on bad shit happening, Taylor." She snapped back, now slightly angry. "You wanna know why we weren't here? Cause my douchebag PRT officer of a dad fucking bailed on us in New York! My mom had to work three jobs and take classes online to get a job back in the Bay! You…"
"Enough, both of you!" Emma snapped as Taylor seemed to swell with indignation, cutting off the argument before it could really get off the ground. "You're both being idiots! I don't know exactly what's going on, but you're damn well going to explain it to me and not be bitches to one another!"
Looking suitably chastised, the duo explained the situation. Emma listened in mingled awe and disbelief as she was informed that not only was Taylor not fully human, but that she was half Angel. A Fallen Angel, maybe, but still! And Aunty Annette had been a full-blood, from a whole other world. Sure, she knew that other Earth's existed, like Earth Aleph, but to know that she had actually met someone from one was shocking enough without considering anything else. Taylor had been quick to assure her that this was 'the long story' she had mentioned earlier, and the fact that the ravenette had been no-lifing training to be a superhero was utterly unsurprising.
With tempers cooled by the explanation, apologies were exchanged and an agreement to speak more in the morning when fully rested. There was, after all, no rush that justified pulling an all-nighter. Although, admittedly, it took all three of them no small amount of time to drift off to sleep, minds to full of revelations and their consequences to make it particularly easy.
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