Taylor Hebert was sulking.
There was no other way to put it, really. The past few months had been hell. She had triggered back in January and was still no closer to going out as a cape than she had been during those first few weeks.
The tail end of the New Year had been unseasonably warm –even for Brockton Bay –and so Taylor had been able to gather an impressively large swarm of spiders and herd them into the basement of her home.
She had been really rather creative with their placement. A spider in this corner, another in a disused box. One in the shadow of a stored bit of furniture and another hidden behind electrical cords. Here and there Taylor and hidden away her mob of spiders and she had been proud of the result!
Then her dad had gone into the basement to grab a tool for Kurt –or maybe it was the younger Curt, she was always getting those two mixed up –and had opened his toolbox to find a plump (made so through Taylor's meticulous care) spider sitting right on the selfsame tool that he needed.
Hearing her dad's high-pitched squeal had made Taylor smile for the first time in ages. Unfortunately, Danny had gone on a killing spree. Protected in his thick work boots and coat, her father had stalked the basement with a can of insecticide and an old steeltoed boot. Keeping each and every spider docile while her dad purged the basement to the best of his abilities almost made the memory of that squeal unenjoyable.
Almost.
But Taylor had learned her lesson and instead scattered her hoard of spiders throughout Brockton Bay, concentrated around the route that she ran in the mornings –capes need to be in shape, after all. Throughout her morning run, she would check up on them and ensure their health.
After her sixth morning run, Taylor learned that many spiders are territorial. The hard way. While spreading her swarm of spiders, Taylor had put most of her swarm too close together. The spiders had warred against each other for space, no matter how well fed Taylor kept them.
At the time, Taylor had sighed with a bitter resignation –the spiders in her basement simply hadn't lived long enough for space to become an issue. Still, Taylor had wiped the frown off her face and gathered what little remained of the spider population.
Taylor spread them carefully around her morning circuit. By this time, she was getting quite fit, beginning to lose her paunch and extending the length of her route… not that Emma or Sophia noticed, for all that Taylor's newfound fitness (hidden by too-big t-shirts and hoodies that hung loosely off her gangly frame) affected their behavior.
It was just as well. They probably would have found some material there, too.
Of course, then winter hit. An unusually cold winter for a normally warm place like Brockton Bay. It had cut Taylor's spider population down to almost nothing, and she had worked her metaphorical fingers to the bone bringing it back from the brink.
Spiders were placed in small, warmed nests throughout her route –an abandoned construction site, behind a heater, or in a well-protected hollow of a tree. Taylor had studiously kept them fat with a steady supply of bugs that she had cultivated from the odd, random sources of still water throughout the Docks. Taylor then flicked their "gotta mate NOW" switch.
She made sure that if a spider wasn't ready to lay a hundredfold eggs, it sure wanted to.
Whatever gang-related catastrophe had forced Winslow to close school early –no complaints there –had also caused a lot of Taylor's swarm to panic. She had spent ages getting those numbers up to an acceptable level, and she would be damned if she lost them now!
In the end, Taylor had been able to calm most of her spiders down, but it was still November –a thankfully warm November, but still… Almost a full year of powers and still not even a costume to show for it.
It was almost enough to make her want to buy something from Toybox… ignoring the financial impossibility of it, buying something from Toybox held the silent threat of one day being traced back to Taylor's civilian identity. To her father. The bitterness of it made Taylor want to scowl, but she settled for sulking.
Taylor pushed away the voice in the back of her mind that whispered caustic reassurances –after all, she probably would fail at being a hero, too –it sounded too much like Emma for Taylor to take any stock in its vitriol.
The clanging sound of her front door opening broke Taylor out of her thoughts.
"Taylor," Her dad called from the doorway. "I've brought home a… stray."
A stray.
Taylor felt a faint, ghost of a smile grace her too wide, too thin lips.
Her mom had had a bad habit of bringing home random strays and nursing them back to health. Dogs, cats, even one particularly ugly bird –it had turned out to be a baby vulture. If Annette Hebert drove past a hurt or abandoned animal, odds were that they would end up hosting it in their home. Her dad had always complained about it, but he always smiled while doing so… and Taylor would absolutely never forget that one time when she went down for a sip of water around midnight, and stumbled across a wide-eyed Daniel Hebert in the middle of sneaking in a little baby bunny that had a leg broken by a car.
The memory warmed Taylor's heart even as it bit into it.
Her balding dad walked into the kitchen, followed by the oddest cape that Taylor had ever seen. Tall and lithe, the young woman, clad in a silvery grey armor, dwarfed her gangly father in height –and judging by how her legs were… crouched, she still had several more inches, besides.
The long, scaled tail was pulled flush against herself, contorting with a surprising flexibility.
Taylor panicked, eyes wide.
Her father brought a girl home. A young girl, around her age, if the girl's... development was anything to judge by –at least Taylor wasn't alone in that respect.
"Dad?" Taylor drew the word out cautiously, unsure of how to begin. How does anyone broach a topic like this?!
Danny gestured to the Case 53 girl behind him. "Taylor, this is Guinevere Black. She's only just arrived in Brockton Bay so she'll be staying with us in the guest bedroom while she gets settled."
Arrived.
...Well, that's one way to put it, Taylor thought. Probably a bit more tactful than "likely woke up in a back alley with no memory of anyone or anything."
Still, there was a… brightness in her father's voice. Buried under several layers of exhaustion and drowsiness, but it was there. Her dad's voice lacked the monotonous drone that it had to it these past two years and there was a spark of life –of interest in the world around him –in his eyes.
Taylor had almost forgotten what her dad was like. Really like.
As he busily shuffled to and fro, carting bags –of supplies for their guest, Taylor hesitantly guessed –Danny had a bustling, energetic feel about him. A passion for doing things and getting things done that Taylor remembered from when her mom had been alive.
Taylor couldn't quite repress the cynically fragile hope that this new change would last.
"Greetings Taylor Hebert, daughter of Daniel Hebert," the girl spoke, dipping into an oddly complex curtsy –made slightly awkward by the crouch that the tall girl had to stay in to keep her white-blonde hair from brushing against their ceiling. "I am Guinevere Black, firstborn daughter of Gwyn."
…What a voice.
That voice.
Taylor had spent the last two years studying voices. She knew by the lilt of Emma's barbs if she was just going to make a passing, cutting remark (that was no less painful for its brevity) or if the girl would stop and take the time to pull out an insecurity that Taylor had willingly armed her onetime friend with years prior to lance it into Taylor's heart.
Taylor knew by the undercurrent in Madison's beckoning call if she would be a passive, mostly-silent accessory to Taylor's bullying (lending an unspoken support to her tormentors), or if Madison would chime in with a jab at Taylor's mother.
But this voice? That voice?
Taylor knew voices and knew them well. She had to. And the girl in front of her spoke with an unfamiliar accent. Underneath the soft and resonant voice –that lingered just a bit too long for her comfort –was an undercurrent of an accent that was well hidden by the unusual nature of the speaker's voice. Soft r's that rolled ever-so-slightly and flowing L's that Taylor compared to a summer breeze, interspersed with a slightly-too-thick emphasis on the G of her name.
Taylor then realized that Guinevere had not left the curtsy. The Case 53 was obviously waiting for somethi... Oh. Her face blushed and Taylor felt her ears burn with embarrassment.
"Um...Hi?" Damn, as it always this hard to talk to people? "I'm Taylor."
The cape rose out of her curtsy –though still crouching, Taylor noted… that couldn't be comfortable.
"Uh," Taylor bit back a curse at the verbal pause. "Why don't... why don't you sit with me?"
Okay, good. Now… what to say?
xXx
So, apparently there's an online generator for PHO chapters… That could have saved me hours of formatting and tedious editing. Eh, whatever. Now I know for next time, yeah?
Anyway, like Daniel like Taylor, right? Both reacting similarly to Guinevere?