Tears Are For Lovers
II: Raven
- ( o ) -
Meditation was a method by which Raven cleared her mind. She rooted out the evil and the rage planted there by Trigon and reestablished peace. It was an act she preformed alone, away from others, locked in her own head, withdrawing into herself, but as cleansing herself became easier, she also spread her peace outward and flowed with the taciturn serenity of the world. That was why she preferred meditation on the roof, where the sky sprawled above her, whether bright or overcast or stormy, and the sea undulated under her, moving with the understandable passions controlled by the moon.
The day Starfire had been struck with the Curse of the Silken Robe, Raven sought her much-needed peace outside. The day was withdrawing into evening, as tangerine and magenta painted across the horizon left a wash of gold upon her face. A slight wind was whistling from the west, ruffling her cloak and tickling her face. It was, Raven discovered, a good day and a good time to indulge in mediation.
Under her skin, in the recesses of her mind, her soul stretched languidly, dark and feline as a panther, swaying in contentment. This was her time, her solitary confinement and her expansive expression of totality. At this moment, for a little while, there were no more questions, no more need for answers, and all things contradictory walked side by side.
"Luna..." interrupted a male voice.
Raven cringed. Someone (as schoolmarm as this sounded) was invading her personal space.
"Luna. Memora, negra Luna."
He was saying something akin to Latin, but at the same time, not. His voice was not unpleasant, a rich, throaty baritone, but she still hated it with a passion. Some stirring of an ancient memory jolted her into a sudden bout of bitterness, but he remained, repeating that ludicrous line. Memora mem, negra Luna.
His insistent demands grew louder and louder, as Raven was thrown into more and more turbulent of a session of meditation. He was bothering her; he did not belong. This basic leap of intuition, along with the spell for properly expelling an alien presence, rose unbidden into her throat, and as she said the words to keep him out of her mind, he spoke in words she actually understood. Dost thou think I dost not know the inner workings of thy soul, beloved? I come for thee.
A bright flash, like a thousand suns that pricked her eyelids and shone their light into her soul, burst in front of her and with that, he was gone. She opened her eyes to find herself sitting on the cold, rough floor where before she had levitated, pain growing on her rump and the sun having fully sunk behind the now periwinkle-blue horizon. Raven sighed.
To add to her long list of problems, she now heard voices.
Just peachy.
- ( o ) -
Somewhere between Starfire's undoubtedly nice hugs and scrutiny of that little incongruity in the video, Robin made time for training. There he was, effectively beating up his closest friend, the punching bag with a crudely-drawn face that only half resembled Slade's plastered on one side (kudos to Beast Boy) when Raven walked in with a decidedly pissed look on her face. Not that Raven wasn't always pissed—she just looked more pissed than usual.
So, being the considerate leader he was, Robin caught the swinging, falling apart bag with his hands and inquired after Raven's health.
"I'm fine, thank you," she snapped, much too quickly for him to believe her. Then she went to her corner of the room and started to fling weights at the collapsible wall they had built for her... an act that (unless your teammate happened to be some messed-up, perpetually angry bitch) wasn't normal.
Oh. Wait. Raven could fit in the messed-up, perpet...
Robin cleared his throat. Better not to think about that. She wasn't always angry, of course, and who wasn't messed-up in this Tower?
"Anything you'd like to talk to me about?"
"Not. Really." She punctuated each word with a 50-pound weight smashing into the wall.
Robin struggled for something to say. He wanted to continue beating-up Mini-Slade, but being in the same room with a repressed, homicidal Raven wasn't on the top of his Places-I'd-Like-To-Be list. "...Um... would tea help?"
She shot him a look, taking a pause from her dedicated weight-hurling to glare Daggers-of-Death at him. "The answer is no, Wonder Boy. Now get out."
Robin complied. Raven wasn't very good at expressing her emotions, if you wanted to go for clinical, polite terminology. Instead of 'talking things out' she'd throw things around. Many people did that, namely abusive husbands and alcoholics, but when you're faced with someone who uses her powers to rip down buildings and lift buses without breaking so much as a sweat, you're in a considerably more dangerous situation.
Cyborg was sitting like a bag of potatoes, all squat and still, on the couch when he entered the control room. He was watching some show or another; Robin caught sight of prancing ponies and rainbows before Cyborg heard him and flipped the channel, settling on something distinctly manly—sumo wrestling, to be exact. Robin, still a bit shaken from his experience with Raven, thought it best not to tease Cyborg about his secret passion.
"Yo, what's up man?" asked Cyborg, turning to Robin. "You look a bit pale." There you go—Cyborg's other talent, stating the obvious. "I thought you were training. You said you were going to visit Batman and make him proud with how buff you turned out to be..."
"Having a psychic girl tear up the training room kinda puts a cork on that," said Robin, indulging in Raven's sarcasm. He needed something to calm his nerves, after all. He and Raven shared a bond ever since she took a gander inside his head and whenever she was upset, the result was he shared her sentiments, and then some. After all, he had taken the blunt force of Raven's rage back there, in a shadow to her words, the undercurrent in her tone, and he was not of a position to want to receive some more punishment.
"What's wrong this time?" asked Cyborg. He, like Robin, was getting tired of Raven's drama.
"No idea. Wouldn't say."
"Should've known. Never told us anything about Trigon, either. Don't expect her to say anything now."
"But she's our friend! She should trust us like we trust her!"
"Dude, do you tell Raven everything? Girl's gotta have her secrets, just like you have yours."
Memories of his parents tugged at Robin until he gave in. "Sure, but I wish she'd tell us what was bothering her."
"It's her business, man. She's a big girl. She'll deal with it. In fact, I think she's dealing with it right now. I just hope my weights are still there when we go back."
"I don't know, Cy. She seemed pretty angry and she was throwing hers around... so I'm guessing that she'll be finished with them soon and move onto other people's stuff."
"Shoot. You think so? I better go stop her." Cyborg jumped off of the couch and sprinted out of the room. Robin stood in the control room, waiting to hear crashes and screams. None came. The thudding of weights colliding with the wall suddenly stopped, and a slow hush of voices reached his ears.
Cyborg had a way with Raven. They had a friendship he didn't really understand, a kind of camaraderie that he suspected he may never share with the girl. They had bonded in those hours spent in his garage, in the time when he was too busy with Slade and Starfire to give a shit about Raven. He had discovered her lately, under the influence of her destiny and a growing sort of admiration for her that had embedded itself in his heart. But as much as they were friends, she seemed closer to Cyborg, and sometimes closer to Starfire. He wasn't really jealous of this; he had no romantic aspiration to Raven. But sometimes he wished that he, too, could calm her like Cyborg could.
"Hey, said Cyborg, entering the room with Raven striding in front of him, "you can go back to train now."
A glance at both of them, going to the kitchen to boil water for Raven's tea, set Robin's nerves, once calming, aflame. Grimacing, he did exactly as Cyborg said, going back to his Mini-Slade and ripping it up so badly, he pulled it down and went to the closet to get another identical bag (one of dozens), with that same, lopsided mask that served as the enigmatic Mr. Wilson Beast Boy had kindly drawn for him.
- ( o ) -
Raven had reacted out of fear. She hated fear, thought of it as a weakness, and told herself, firmly, that she had nothing to fear except losing herself. The seeds of Trigon, now defeated, still existed inside of her, as she will always be his offspring. However, she was sure she could conquer that, and nothing would shake her so deeply, so much to her core, ever again. But she was, sadly, wrong.
The man, that stranger who spoke to her, had trespassed over her most sacred area, the deepest part of herself. Many women treasured that valley between their legs that proved the hatching ground of life, but for Raven, who promised herself celibacy, her mind was far more important. It was her sanctuary, a temple to replace that of Azarath, a shelter from disorder, no matter how disorderly her emotions may be anyway. That man, who had decided to enter her and speak to her, violated her as surely as any other who would touch her in rape. Horrified that anyone, much less a stranger, would pass beyond the barriers she'd built around herself, to protect herself, had caused her to strike out in desperation, in the physical need to break and hurt.
Cyborg had spoken to her. He had reasoned and calmed her. She was a creature of emotion as surely as Starfire was, but she also kept herself in check by logic, because that was the only way she knew how. Cyborg had connected with this conviction, and helped her out of her crimson-riddled fear. But this solution, she knew, was only temporary. The man had crossed all the borders, all the walls, and if he did it once, he could do it again.
Memora, nigra Luna.
She could not bring herself to tell Cyborg, or anyone else, about this trespass. Not yet. She was certain that if she had said it out loud, it would be true—her barriers were compromised, her powers not strong enough for this threat, and she could not protect herself. She could deceive herself (which was what she planned on doing) by saying that she was crazy and heard voices. After all, being schizophrenic was, to her, much better than being powerless in the face of the unknown, the darkness beyond her sight.
Vaguely she could hear Cyborg asking her, probing her for the source of her distress. Equally vaguely could she feel herself grip her cup and take a small sip of the chamomile tea, a usually calming agent that did little in the face of this new problem. She did not answer Cyborg, nor take another sip of tea. Instead she pretended to be fine and shrugged off Cyborg's questions to withdraw herself. She didn't need questioning right now. What she needed was to find the meaning of those words, to assure herself they were nothing but nonsense her subconscious made up for her to dwell over.
- ( o ) -
Beast Boy sat with Starfire on the floor of her room, a Scrabble board between them. Whenever he looked up, he caught a glimpse of her bosom under the white, filmy fabric, so Beast Boy struggled to keep his eyes on the board. In doing so, he was finding a lot of words... though, neither of them really seemed to be winning.
"...O-O-N. Balloon," he said, placing the letters on the board. That's... oh! Double points here!" He picked up the piece of paper lying next to him and started to add. Five plus two plus ten... that's fifteen isn't it? Wait... no, it's eighteen. Whoops.
"Aha!" declared Starfire, a look of excitement passing her features. "I, too, have uncovered a word!"
"V... there! Vijayanagar!"
"Vee-jay-whatagar?"
"Vijayanagar! Fourteenth to sixteenth century Hindustani empire formed by Hindu states to..."
"Yeah, sure, whatever! No facts, please. My head is already stuffed with hydrogen information and natural habitat words. I never ever needed to know what the scientific name for hippo poo is!"
Starfire looked a bit downcast.
"I believe you, though. How many points is that?"
So their afternoon passed, oblivious to the happenings of all outside Starfire's stunningly pink room, of all the schizophrenic, manic-depressive, bipolar, homicidal events that took place. In the end, they both stared at the score sheet with disbelief on their faces.
"How did I win?" Beast Boy exclaimed. How did 'Spiderman' get the best of 'sesquipedalian'? I don't get it!"
"Nor do I..." said Starfire.
Beast Boy could tell that Starfire wanted to win. He had entered into this game without any care, hoping the pass the time and cure his boredom, but Starfire was the one who put effort into each of the words. She was the one, he knew, that deserved to win.
Apparently, Starfire's room thought so too.
While the alien girl was bent over the paper, recalculating the score, Beast Boy noticed her dresser twitching.
Silence from him, shocked, still silence, ensued.
"Beast Boy, I do not think nine and twelve make fifteen... not when you said four and one made fifteen over here..." said Starfire uncertainly.
BB didn't reply. He was, instead, looking wide-eyed at the dresser, which seemed to grow in size and fury, towering over him like some Goliath out of myth. But he was no David, with no slingshot and certainly no stone, and the rumbling of the bed behind Starfire rendered him incapable of anything besides shaking and stuttering.
"I do not understand this concept of subtraction, not in this game... how does fifty-three minus six equal seventy?" continued Star, somehow oblivious to her moving, growling furniture.
Her curtains began to twist so he could discern a face in the pink folds, a face more menacing than he thought possible of any pink cloth. An evil smile spread over the curtains, pure unfettered malice on such an innocuous thing as curtains. All of his impulses were telling him to get out of there, fast.
"You know what, Star? Just ignore the score. I can't do math anyway. You win. Your words were better than mine. Much better."
"Beast Boy, I do not be..."
By the time she looked up, he was out of her room and into the hall, running for his life.
She looked around her tranquil, gentle environs, wondering why he ran off, but at last resigned to packing up the board and the letters and asking him about his queer behavior later.
- ( o ) -
He stood on the roof of a building on the other shore of the currents, watching the abnormally shaped tower and smelling the taste of his old lovers on the breeze that blew from their home to him. He had spoken, however briefly, to one. She had been frightened, but that was no matter, because she had forgotten him in her new form. She would remember, soon enough.
The other one did not sense him at all. She had very little suspicions and carried on with her business as usual. He didn't mind; part of the reason he fell for her in the first place was that she was glowingly independent, always embroiled in her own issues and did not catch the private goings-on of others. She was a force in and of herself, and he would bring her old consciousness back soon. Right now, however, he had to begin slowly. Seduce them like they seduced him, so that their new friends would not root him out and stop him before he could forge a chain of trust and love between all of them, a chain broken by their leaving him but reestablished by this new chance.
The one he spoke to, she'll find out about him soon enough. All he needed to do was keep probing her, keep speaking to her, and offer himself as someone who would devote wholly to her and accept every fiber of her being, and she will bend to his will. The other one will be harder to tame, because she was wild and free. With the first one at his side, however, the other will follow, for devotion to her friend more than anything else. When the moon is gone, even the sun is affected.
The wind shift a couple degrees, and a new scent greeted him. The scent of discontent in the Tower. It should be easy, then. Prying the two away should be easier than he anticipated.
- ( o ) -
Disclaimer: Teen Titans does not belong to me. The new character does, however, and I do like him. He's deliciously obsessive and probably crazy. You know I love the crazy ones. (They have good pills.)
Author's Note: Thanks to all who reviewed the first chapter. That was done quickly. This one took considerably longer. The next update may not be in so short of a time, 'cuz school's starting tomorrow. The language the dude speaks is not Latin. I made up some stuff akin to Latin, 'cuz I'm too lazy to go find a translator and match verbs... sry! But if you have a pretty good grasp of a Romantic language, you'll get the gist of what's he's saying. BTW, I'm writing viewpoints a lot, so what the characters think are generally not what I think. For example, I don't think Cyborg states the obvious and I don't think Raven is overly dramatic. :3 That's just Robby speaking. So no reviews demanding me to change my opinion, please. PS... review!