Incredibly enough, there was a cafeteria in the Watchtower. It wasn't gigantic or anything, but it was a fairly big room, enough for fifteen, twenty people to be seated comfortably. Considering the League had always been seven people, the size seemed large, but with the expansion, it made it a perfect fit.
Black Canary found herself sipping on some tea. She wasn't terribly hungry and she wasn't in the mood for coffee, so a steaming cup of tea it was.
A couple of the tables were occupied with the new Leaguers, young and old. Cliques hadn't formed yet, it seemed. The blonde vigilante just watched them over her tea cup as she took a sip.
The popular topic was the rescue of Superman and Hawkgirl; however, the talk wasn't how great it was to save two of the most famous heroes in the world. Instead, conversation revolved around the capture of one of the Legion members, Girder, if she wasn't mistaken.
Something was up, she could tell. When they had returned to the Watchtower, it was impossible not to tell something had happened. Well, maybe some of the others missed it, but Black Canary hadn't. After so many years working in Gotham, she felt comfortable reading Batman and she knew the man was pissed. He practically stormed onto the satellite like Darth Vader. Green Lantern had restrained Girder, not that it was necessary. They guy was out like a light, but there had been some noticeable damage to his face. It was mostly markings rather than a dent in the shiny, metal frame.
"Has there been any word on him?" Vixen was asking as she toyed with her fork, turning it back and forth with her fingers in the salad in front of her.
"Nothing I know of," Steel replied. "Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter rushed him to the infirmary and they now have it on lockdown. Precautions, I imagine."
"Any idea what happened? I wasn't able to get a good look."
Eyes turned to Captain Atom, who was sitting straight as a board in his seat. That military disciple was visible for all to see. He was busy sipping from his drink, noticing the attention on him. Black Canary found herself staring at the captain as well; he was the only one that had been on the main team, so he must have seen what happened.
"Green Lantern subdued Girder," was all he said as he placed his cup down.
"We all know that," Ice responded, Fire at her side nodding, rounding out their little group. From a nearby table, Canary could see others trying to listen on too, Firestorm and Black Lightning being obvious about it. "But you could tell there was tension with them."
It seemed she hadn't been the only one to notice it. Captain Atom stared at Ice before he gave a sharp nod. "Lantern may have been aggressive with his actions to defeat Girder," he admitted.
"Aggressive how?" Vixen pressed, stabbing a piece of lettuce with her fork and raising it to her mouth.
"Obviously it was some construct to Girder's face," Steel added. "What was it?"
"Do you not have anything better to do than gossip?" Captain Atom questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Fire and Ice looked embarrassed and seemed to back off. Steel diverted his gaze. That left Vixen to unabashedly respond, "Not at all, so spill."
The captain glanced at her before shaking his head. "I rather not spread gossip amongst the ranks."
"How would you be spreading gossip when you were actually there?" Vixen finally shoved her lettuce into her mouth, chewing it up before swallowing. "All you'll be doing is relaying fact. I wouldn't call that gossip at all."
The military man seemed to mull that over. "That is true," he murmured before he shifted himself in his seat, getting comfortable. "During the fight, Lantern created a drill construct and used it on Girder's face."
Black Canary nearly dropped her cup in surprise, her eyes nearly bulging out of her face. Firestorm and Black Lightning nearly jumped in their seats as they twisted around to look incredulously at Captain Atom. Equally shocked looks were on Fire and Ice's faces and Vixen dropped her fork into her salad in astonishment. Steel was the only one that didn't change, his mask being the reason for that, but the way his body jolted back gave away his feelings.
But it told Canary a lot. No wonder Batman had been rage incarnate. If he had seen that, he would have blown a gasket and probably had.
"Jesus," Steel murmured after a few moments.
"Does anyone know if he's okay?" Fire asked soon after.
"Martian Manhunter has him hooked up to quite a bit of medical equipment," Steel told her. "He was still unconscious last I saw and I can't imagine that's changed." He paused for a moment before repeating, "Jesus."
"Doesn't that feel...extreme to anyone?" Ice inquired after awhile.
This was where Canary really began to listen. If there was ever a time to learn about her new comrades, this one such opportunity. She noticed a few nods amongst the people, but no one really spoke up.
"I will admit, it was extreme," Captain Atom suddenly said, earning himself the attention from the others. "But I cannot not fault the results. It did remove Girder as a threat."
"That's a good point," Vixen agreed," but imagine if it was on someone without metal on their face. Like...I don't know, Killer Frost? That drill would have left a hole in her head no amount of surgery could fix."
"And why a drill?" Steel brought up. "I always heard how Green Lantern was the epitome of cool. Guy is always in control of himself and this seems...I don't know, out of character?"
"Is it?" Fire questioned. "We've only met them recently, so how do we know if this is not his usual self?"
That was a pretty good question and Black Canary was sad to say she didn't have an answer to that. Not for the first time did she think she was woefully unprepared and she didn't like it.
"It's possible this is just a sign that they're human," Black Lightning's voice suddenly cut in. As everyone turned to him, he continued," All of us have seen the Justice League as these champions; men and women achieving greatness across the world. We quickly forget they are people too; regular men and women who do great things. That has to take a toll."
"Perhaps," Ice replied, "but aren't situations like this a little different? It's one thing to handle a hostage crisis, but it's another when the hostages are your own."
"That's the point," Lightning countered. "As far as I know, there hasn't been anything like the Legion of Doom that has gone up against the League. It's a new scenario and one I can't say we're handling all that well. Superman, of all people, was captured. What does that say for the rest of us?"
"I rather not think about it," Firestorm muttered.
"You better. Everything is on the table, the way I see it. The only way to end this situation is to take down the Legion and not everyone is going to go down easily. They have people that were literally designed to take down some of our members, like Metallo."
"There is something to that," Captain Atom agreed.
"But if we aren't careful, we may actually kill someone," Fire responded. "Like Vixen said, if Green Lantern had used that construct on a regular face, they would be dead. I always thought the League was above such things."
"As it should be," Steel concurred. "But accidents do happen and we have to keep that in mind." He sighed. "Look, I got into fighting crime because of Superman. He's been an inspiration to me since forever. I know that when I look at him, I can trust he will do the right thing, always."
"The same," Black Lightning agreed. "But we just need to keep in mind that everyone has a point where they break. The Justice League has been here for awhile now and what isn't to say this is that point?"
"What do we do if they break?" Ice wondered out loud.
"That's where we pick up the pieces," Lightning told her. "After all, we weren't invited just to be window dressing."
Luthor tapped his finger on his desk, thoughtful as he listened to Humanite's latest report. So far, everything had been going according to plan, except there had been some recent...developments.
The first one was that a member of the Legion had been captured. Certainly, that had been anticipated. There was a reason why his involvement was kept as a need to know basis, and there should only be one person in the whole operation who knew. That was not to say that a few clues here and there couldn't point in his direction, but precautions were already in place, just in case.
The metal man known as Girder had been picked out for the sheer need for muscle. Plus, Luthor was curious how a man could be this intimately fused with metal as this Girder was. That aside, based on reports from his antics in Central City, the man was more than capable of taking a hit. That, and he had a weakness to exploit.
There was something special about the roguish elements of the Twin Cities. The criminals there were cut from a different sort of cloth. To have a man with metahuman abilities be motivated to provide for his grandmother was...unheard of. Then there was the supergroup called the Rogues, which made sense when you dealt with a hero known for his speed. Unite, or be taken down in the blink of an eye; how were they able to stand their ground as much as they had?
Finding a good speedster was incredibly difficult, but he was still looking for one for his personal uses.
He wasn't worried about Girder's capture. The man had needed to know something in order to be worth any concern. Everything told to him was piecemeal and straight to the point. At worst, all he could tell the League was that the Legion wished to capture them, one by one if necessary. For what reason, well, Humanite should not have told the metal man anything in that regard.
However, there was another matter that was much more concerning. Dr. Alchemy, Faust, and the Shade seemed unwilling to remain as pawns. It was all they were really good for, but according to Humanite, the three men had given quite the demonstration of their abilities.
Changing blood to poison, stopping metahuman abilities in their tracts, even someone as powerful as Metallo was unable to fight. It was quite a display of dominance that he could admire, but it raised a new question.
What to do about this rabble?
Delusions of godhood aside, this turn of events was sadly predictable. He had assembled a team of the most self-centered individuals imaginable, only a handful capable of higher thought that did not include "me, me, me."
For many of them, money was motivating enough. For others, not nearly.
Power tended to be universal. People sought it as either an end, or a means to an end. The three upstarts here were clearly in the former, seeking power for power's sake. While he admired the exhibition, he detested the meaninglessness of these men's aims. So what if they became gods? So what? What did they do with that power? Rule? Please. Do whatever they wanted? Too simple.
There in lied their weakness. Power was their weakness. Clearly they were drunk on it and hoped to achieve the same high as before, like junkies. How do you handle these people? Simple, you feign weakness, and slowly train them to eat from your hand. Thinking they were on top, they'd grow complacent until the trap triggered.
So how would he do that?
"For the time being, let them go," he spoke to Humanite.
"Are you sure about this?" the ape responded.
"They want to be gods? Fine, let them be gods. They want to call the shots, let them. It was a mistake to give them the real articles instead of fakes, but they wouldn't have agreed in the first place without them. But if they think they are in charge, that is a lesson they will have to learn the hard way. The reality is that gods have no control over their worshipers. There will be plenty of opportunities to get rid of them...actually…"
The idea had just occurred to him and he liked it with every passing second. It was so fitting, what with what he was trying to accomplish here. And even if they came out unscathed, or marginally injured, they would be helpless against what was to come next.
"...actually, we can spin this to our advantage. This trio of would-be gods want to be held up on a pedestal, then we shall give them exactly what they want."
"So what creative scheme have you come up with?" Humanite was already interested, no doubt seeking a way to soothe the injured ego he had.
Recalling how Girder had been captured, based on what Humanite had told him, the Green Lantern was nearly gone overkill with an emphasis on kill. Based on his research, such a man as the Lantern would not have gone that extreme, even in such a high-stress situation. It was a clue and one that Luthor had placed himself. It was all coming together now and so the next move was so obvious.
"You've been playing your part spectacularly and it will require you to continue playing a part. Stick to the plan and this should serve as the spark to the powder keg we've been building."
How do you handle idiots with god complexes? Put them up against an actual god.
The following smiting would serve his agenda and push everything forward in the direction he needed.
"As of now, the situation is a stalemate between the Justice League and the Legion of Doom. The Legion forces a conflict, the League responds, no one wins except for construction contractors, and the cycle repeats. As of now, we can only wait until the Legion makes another move, the League reacts, and we have to clean up the mess."
Steve felt that summed up everything. There was no sense sugarcoating it. They had to work with the reality in front of them and base their next move off of that.
Director Bordeaux nodded her head. "Anything else to add?"
Steve was tempted to speak first, say no and move on, but he thought about it first. He was not an investigator, not by a long shot. That, however, did not mean he didn't know how to observe.
"The Legion started off with escalation. They went from robbing banks to trying to sacrifice people, then suddenly de-escalated into a brawl with the League in an abandoned building. Typically, once you start escalating, you keep escalating. You don't go back the other way."
"Unless it's part of a plan," Bordeaux finished.
Unless it was part of a plan, which most of these kinds of criminals and metahumans tended to do. You didn't need to be an investigator, or a detective to see all of that. Steve had had his share of those adventures and was not surprised by it.
Still, you would think a group of super-criminals intent on destroying the Justice League would have caused a lot more, you know, destruction. Outside of the three bank heists, the amount of destruction that A.R.G.U.S. had to repair was not as great as you would think.
"Do you have any ideas, or thoughts on what this plan is?" the director continued.
And here is the part where having a lot more investigative skills would have come in handy. They had all this property damage, footage of the fights, but nothing to really say definitely what the end game was. The ones in control were obviously the Legion of Doom; they were picking out where the fights would happen, so they were in charge.
But what were the fights for? To simply kill a member of the Justice League? They should have had plenty of opportunity to kill at least one, especially since the League opened its ranks recently.
So far, nothing. Everyone was still alive.
"I can't tell you since the Legion's been very good at keeping that to themselves," is how Steve answered. It felt like acid on his tongue, like admitting he was in over his head. Maybe they all were, but they had a responsibility here.
Bordeaux took in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "That's not good enough."
"The only way to get more information is to contact the League and see if they would be willing to work with us," Steve pointed out.
"After what happened with Brainiac? That bridge was burned; I highly doubt trying to establish trust while a dumpster fire starts is going to be a good time to try and fix it. We'll have to act on our own," the director decided.
But how were they going to act? What options did they have?
Apparently, the director knew what they were better than he did. She turned to Waller of all people and suddenly Steve had a sinking feeling exactly what Bordeaux was planning to do.
"Since we don't have a lot of options, perhaps the one where we fight fire with fire is necessary," Bordeaux stated. "Waller, how long would it take to get them all up and ready for action?"
Waller didn't beat around the bush. "Within the next hour. You get me the intelligence I need and I will send them to do their jobs."
Aw, shit. This was not how Steve wanted things to go. Unfortunately, he couldn't suggest anything else they could do, and he knew it. Not just him, but pretty much everyone else here was in the same boat.
"Very well. Waller, I am authorizing you to activate Task Force X. I would prefer alive so we can get more information, but they are authorized to use lethal force if necessary."
You could barely see it, but there was a gleam of approval in Waller's eyes. "Consider it done."
So that was it, then. This was how you fought fire with fire.
Let's hope none of them were burned by it.
There was a second spacecraft in the sky, heading down to the Earth. From this distance, it was hard to identify anything distinctive about it, but with each passed increment of Earth-based time, Starfire was able to see the features of a Citadel-based transport.
It had the basics in defense capabilities, but such a ship was for ferrying dignitaries and not leading a charge into battle. Still, the weapons it did have would make it formidable against what Earth could marshal against it.
She knew who was on this vessel and her heart was beating rapidly in her upper torso. It had been long, so very long. It was difficult to measure using Earth-standard units of time measurements and Tamaran-standard units of time measurements made her...ill for home. It could be summarized with very long.
The last time she had seen Komand'r, it was her sister's back as she was taken away by the Citadel's slavers, the Gordanians. There had been shackles, a collar, and so many screams, so many tears, and then the dreams of nocturnal equine females began.
Now, in the present, she was about to see her older sister's face once more. There had been many diurnal fantasies of this moment and all of them had been set on Tamaran. Not here, not on Earth, and not before her adoptive home. This was how reality operated, did it not? Your visions of the future did not become identical with the present and you had to adapt to what they are instead of what you desired them to be.
So many small intervals of time measurement past before the space-faring vessel approached the island on which she stood. Behind her, the friends and allies she had gained stood in their uniforms. She understood why they chose such outer layers; this was a formal occasion and Red Robin had expressed his desire that the team of adolescent humans would be ready if battle broke out.
Once, Starfire would have been shocked at such a suggestion. This was her sister, but that would have been before the coup, Komand'r's rise to power, and her enslavement.
Above, the spacecraft slowed its descent, lowering itself to the edge of the island. Landing apparatuses extended from below the spacecraft's underbelly, its rear apparatus mere tiny spatial unit measurements away from the short cliff that led straight into the ocean. The pilot was highly experienced to land as such.
She could barely hear the thrumming hum of the engines, a hallmark of state-of-the-art engineering. The Citadel was keen to have the best technology it could possess, even if it had to steal it. This was all to describe how difficult it was to identify if, or when the engines were shut down.
There was a sharp exhalation, the inner cabins of the ship depressurizing, and from below its belly, a ramp lowered to the soil and sparse vegetation. She saw the booted feet first as they descended down the diagonal surface. Beside her, Galfore stood straighter and saluted, the traditional Tamaranean military greeting. For herself, she adopted a different stance, one that had her clasping her hands and placing them at about her waist level, her shoulders lowering and her knees bending slightly. It was a position of reverence, and traditionally the one that common Tamaraneans engaged in when faced with a socially superior official.
Though in exile she remained, Starfire had not forgotten the social mores of her home world.
Instantly, she recognized the swagger of the first individual departing the ship. She knew it so well, recalling it after so many sparring sessions and small peaks here and there. There was a change, as this lead Tamaranian radiated confidence to the point it could be confused with arrogance, which was new. Usually, it was aggression that acted as a cloak.
The traditional garments of Tamaranean royalty was easily ignored, from how tight it fit on the powerful body, the color just as easily dismissed, the cape was a bit more distracting and the crown...caused some emotional distress, but the hair, the solid black hair could only belong to her. To Komand'r. To Blackfire.
Even now, after all these years, Starfire...Koriand'r...marveled at how unnatural that color was. Yet, she knew too well that the pigment was real, every molecule, everything. It was just so...bizarre for a Tamaranean to have such pigment.
Eyes that should have been green, but weren't, and were as dark as the hair above them sought out Galfore first and gave a short nod of approval. Then, those same eyes, the last time so dismissive, lay their gaze on her and the need to decrease her size became urgent. Righteous fury could not be stoked to keep her standing, facing the gaze of the first family she had seen in years.
"Welcome to Earth, Grand Ruler," Galfore greeted, speaking in the native language.
"At ease," Grand Ruler Komand'r commanded, her voice was so strong. The might it possessed threatened to assault Starfire off of her feet. Indeed, her sister had changed since she had last seen her.
Here the two of them were, prodigal sisters standing face to face. Distance and time had done nothing to prevent such a meeting. Despite the half-cooked dreams of fantasy she had had, Starfire was always leading the coup, backed by untold numbers of Tamaraneans, and recently her new human friends. Not a single one of them was like this and the sensation of powerlessness was too mighty to ignore. If there was one thing that would hold true about those fantasies, it would be that she would stare into Komand'r's eyes and not break the visual contact.
It was the only portion that she was proud of currently.
It was also why she was able to see the shift. Komand'r stood before her with an expression of confidence and superiority, and then the changes happened. Sharp eyes became soft, the cocky smirk of assurance of self shrank into a much, much smaller smile. This was...never in those fantasies.
"Koriand'r," Komand'r said. For the first few short units of time measurement, it was only that one word. "There are many things I would like to say, many I would love to say, but now is not the time, or the place. There is one, though, that needs to be said. As hard as it is to believe, I have missed you."
It took every membrane in Starfire's body to not clench her hands into fists. That would have disrespected the submissive stance she had taken up. "When did you come to this realization?" Her voice was tight, forced, so controlled that anyone hearing her would have known how she was damming up her emotions.
"Right now," Komand'r answered. "I see you right now, standing here, on this planet, and it makes me regret that day. To have had a need and not known it until after you have had it fulfilled. How we parted...there were so many different ways I should have handled it. It is not often I feel regret. To have had your support as I assumed the throne...it was a mistake to break up our family."
"You killed people. Our people. Why?" Because it was her sister who had led the first coup in which there was a number of bodies that needed to be counted.
"Unfortunate, but I have my reasons. In time, if you will allow it, I will give them to you. Right now, we have an audience, don't we? Who is it that you have brought here with you?"
The younger Tamaranean knew of whom Komand'r referred to: her friends. All of them still holding back, waiting, watching, and prepared to strike out if needed.
"They are friends, ones who granted me shelter when I needed it most," she answered, a little stiff she would admit.
"Then they have earned my gratitude. They have given me an opportunity that I would otherwise not have." Black eyes lowered as arms moved behind the cape. A small box emerged and was held out to the younger sister. With powerful hands, Komand'r opened it, pulling back on the top—
Koriand'r's breathing almost came to a stop, her green eyes widening at the beautiful sight. The sunlight caused a gleam that acted like a prism, separating the colors of the visible spectrum apart. It was held in a clasp, a sturdy string attached indicating it was to be worn around the neck. It was beautiful and there was only one thing she could say.
"A Centauri Moon Diamond…"
"A token of my apology," Komand'r explained as she held the beautiful, beautiful gem to her, the gift received by mindless hands. "The first of many reparations, I believe, and I hope the first of many balms I can give you to heal the wounds I caused."
Only once had Koriand'r seen a Centauri Moon Diamond. Only once, and it had been as beautiful then as it was now. How had Komand'r come across it?
Her brain must have become blank because she did not notice when her sister moved around her, placing herself between the younger Tamaranean and her friends. She did notice when the human language of English was deciphered and only then did she spin around.
Cyborg was the first to catch her eyes, and she his. Moving his upper body to his left, her metal-clad friend asked, "Uh, so what's happening now? Are we cool, or is she about to declare war on us?"
Koriand'r was shaking her head in the negative, and perhaps the sight of the diamond was slowing her cognitive processes down because she should have realized what was about to happen. It was the only action that could happen given the present circumstances. Shock slowed her down so she could not act and or speak quickly enough.
Really, on Tamaran you could call it a greeting. A hello. It is a pleasant occasion to meet you.
On Earth, it would be considered an assault of the sexual nature.
Komand'r took a short number of steps, an arm stretching out almost lazily until it grasped the nearest of her Titan friends—Beast Boy. Her young friend only had the time to gasp before he was pulled to her sister, whom just as swiftly kissed him.
She would not say this aloud, but seeing the visual response of her friends was...humorous. The urge to laugh, even a little, was great in its strength. The exaggerated facial expressions, from dropped mouths, wide eyes, some with raised hands, but all stricken with petrification, it was too humorous to not want to laugh!
The kiss ended and Beast Boy was...lightly pushed back, her green friend stumbling backwards with a dazed expression worn on his face. Not in the slightest hesitation did Komand'r wait to address them.
"I want to offer my thanks in watching over my sister. You have done quite the service to Tamaran and it is a…" She pause as her sister went over her new vocabulary. "...a word I do not have that will be paid back. No one knows better how much trouble she can be."
Now she was pouting because she was not trouble. She wasn't! The destruction of the palace art gallery had been an accident and Komand'r knew it! How should she had known not to apply too much force to the sculpture of Al'm? It had appeared so solid. And it was only the first of two times!
"You're the head of state of a planet several light years from here. This isn't about a family reunion, is it?" Red Robin's words were cutting, but blunted in their sharpness. The discussion they had many cycles ago must still be fresh for him.
"You look like the type that likes to get serious," Komand'r remarked, eyeing the young human male. "If what you want is serious, then fine. I am leading an expedition. We happened to be in this…" a pause as her dark-haired sister sought the correct word, "...part of space and I was told my sister happened to live on this planet. I was going to move past, but Galfore here was...wanting to see her again."
Red Robin was like the earth in his expression. "How long do you plan on staying? If this expedition is important that you need to lead it, staying here could take up a lot of your time."
"Do not worry about my time," Komand'r chided, and even from where she stood, holding the gleaming diamond, Koriand'r could feel the smirk on her older sister's lips. "The other members of my expedition will understand. After all, it is Koriand'r, and our people have always loved her. They will allow all the time needed for this."
Taking a step away from Red Robin, Komand'r turned to look back at her, and the younger Tamaranean found herself standing taller. "This is no place for such talk. It is far past time I speak with my little sister—in private. Tell me, is there some place warmer we can go? It is very cold here."
Even if by appearances it was a request, the tone her older sister used held a command to it. Koriand'r found herself nodding her head before she could control herself. The smile given back to her was one of triumph.
It was the same kind of smile that she would show—
"Hey."
The smile did not leave Komand'r's face, though her reverse to face back towards her friends was slower than what was expected. Stepping around Red Robin, Wonder Girl stood defiantly, blue eyes burning instead of blazing. It was a different appearance for the armor-wearing human.
"We know what you did," Wonder Girl continued, her hands clenched into fists, muscles straining beneath pale skin. "We know what you did to her. Do you think you can waltz on in like you own the place already and think we're just gonna let it happen?"
All Koriand'r could see was her sister's back, the cape doing much to obscure her body. "Waltz," the older Tamaranean repeated, as if tasting the word itself. Then she took a step closer to Wonder Girl, and then another, slowly approached much like a predator.
Wonder Girl refused to yield any land, continuing to glare, even as she had to tilt her head back. Komand'r was easily taller and she faced off with the angry human. Briefly, she saw her sister's arm slip out from the cape, moving so casually as it snaked around the human's head then pulled.
Another kiss, another transfer of language, and it was over as fast as it had happened.
"Mmm," Komand'r hummed. "I will remember these words."
These words? What words had she acquired from her young friend that she had not with Beast Boy? Did it have to do with the term for a style of human dance? No, that did not seem like anything Komand'r would be interested in.
"Come, Koriand'r. Show me what this planet has to offer. I am most interested in finding out what it has that has sustained you all this time," her sister called over her shoulder, moving through her friends with powerful strides of her legs, advancing towards the Tower as much as a conqueror would.
Koriand'r could see how her friends were watching the ebon-haired Tamaranean, and she could read through their bodies their confusion and their apprehension. All they knew was what she had told them, and now that her elder sister was here in the skin, they did not know how to respond to her.
Komand'r had learned how to socialize with others in a manner that could breed uncertainty. The Warlords of Okaara had passed that much on to her and she herself had been taught it too. However, she had rejected the lessons, did not like how they taught how each conversation was a war, every word a battle of its own, and you were to seek victory every time. It did not feel right and inspired much discomfort in her, much like she was experiencing now.
Her hands gripped the small box that held the beautiful gift she had been granted, yet her control over her strength allowed her not to damage it. What was she to do? Her fantasies were not meeting her reality and she felt off pivot enough that she might as well be falling. What was she to do? Was immediate confrontation necessary?
Could she strike at the person that had caused her so much pain and trauma while she was experiencing the affect she felt?
A large hand gently placed itself against her upper back and she looked up to Galfore. It was an expression of sympathy he gave her, one that was accompanied with a simple nod. Green eyes stared into green eyes, one of those eyes discolored and lacking vision, and what she was able to read there…
Giving a nod of her own, Koriand'r lifted both of her feet off the ground and floated over the earth beneath her, following after her sister. She passed by her friends without a look to them, her gaze on the white cape that trailed after her older sibling.
Maybe she would be able to accomplish more with words? There were still multiple questions requiring answers that she needed to make inquires of. When she received those answers, would that allow her mind to be emptier of doubt?
To raise a hand to not only her family, but the Grand Ruler of Tamaran required resolve, and right now she did not possess it. An answer as to whether she would seek reparation was needed first and so she seeked it out.
At least then, if nothing else, she would be able to close that portion of the book that was life.