"Heya, are you a superhero?"
I turn towards the new voice. Then I look down. It's a small girl, no older than seven, with pigtails and an adorable gap-tooth grin. I blink slowly behind my mask. How does one respond to that question?
"I certainly hope so," I respond. "Umm, where are your parents?" I ask carefully. Who on earth lets their child near a non-Protectorate cape under any circumstances? Seems like a recipe for disaster.
"Oh, she's coming up the hill now. Hi mommy!" Or she could've run away from her parent and simply not understand how dangerous parahumans are. That also works. I follow the girl's gaze a see a harried-looking black woman who is sprinting up the hill towards her daughter.
"There you are, Clara! Oh my god, I was so worried, why did you go running away from me like that?" she asks, kneeling down to fuss over her daughter, brushing her hair away from her face and staring, looking for any harm.
"I wanted to see the lady in armor!" Clara says innocently, pointing to me. Little brat, trying to avoid trouble by blaming the convenient distraction. The mother stops her examination of her daughter turns to look. I offer a wave. Harmless enough.
"Um, who are you?" the mother asks. "I don't think I've seen you around." She stands up, brushing grass off her knees and looking down at me. I'm not sure I like being looked down on.
"I'm White Rose," I answer, standing up as well, now towering over the woman. She takes a step back and I feel guilty. Why do I care about dominance games with some random person I don't even know the name of? "What's your name?" I ask, extending a hand, softening the corners and edges of the armor, trying to make appear less threatening.
"... Alice Ladenna," she responds carefully, taking my hand. I give it a light shake, being careful not to squeeze too hard. Don't want to scare anyone.
"I saw you give a guy some flowers earlier, can you make flowers?" Clara says, unwilling to be ignored for more than five seconds. I look down into a pair of bright blue eyes, filled with wonder.
"I can," I respond slowly. An idea strikes me. "I can also make other things." Something new. I start with some rose stems, removing thorns as an afterthought. Don't want to scrape a little girl's head. I weave them together, forming a circular braid. After a moment, I make it a little smaller. Make it sit a little higher on her head. I bud six buttercups, spaced evenly around the circlet. Clara squeals with delight, and I grin behind my mask. I snap the connection, using her delight to cover the pain, pull the snapped end into the circlet to smooth it out, before kneeling to place it on her head.
"Do you like your crown?" I ask.
"It's AWESOME!" Clara yells, and I wince a little behind my mask, momentarily off-guard. As a result, I freeze when she hugs me, both of her arms circling my neck. I stay stock still, not sure where to put my hands. She lets go and smiles. "Thank you, Rosie!" she says, running back down the hill.
Her mother chases after her, already forgetting about me.