milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Rachel is in the bar, slowly stretching in the rafters. The feel of muscles moving under whole, undamaged skin is something that makes her smile. And, for a wonder, she's actually not wearing spandex or torn jeans...no. She's wearing a small work out bra, rippling scars showing in breathtaking patterns everytime she bends her back.

It's a tale of pain and agony each time the light shifts over the slick skin...

Perhaps that's why she's in the rafters. She hates to bother people.

[Alas, the computer is being stolen from me. Open to slowtags of course]

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And she watches.

There are many truths, the number uncountable, and unique for every soul. She knows a good many of them. ::Who chooses?:: she asked simply, not at all put off by the shifting form or it's prophetic pronouncements.

In fact, she steps forward and gently strokes flaming fingers through it's hair, waiting.

::NECCESSITY... FORM CHOOSES FUNCTION... FUNCTION CHOOSSES FORM... LIFE HAS CHOSEN IT'S CHAMPION, FLAWED AS IT IS.::

::Most tools are flawed:: she agreed easily, speaking, perhaps, as one herself. Or a piece of another...or just a champion of life.

::I suggest, at some point, you tell him. Even if just in dreams, or life is goin to lose this one very quickly::

::YOUR WORDS WILL... BE TAKEN UNDER ADVISEMENT, STARCHILD.::

::More than that:: she sighed, her hands never ceasing as she played with the shifting hair.

::Some flaws run deep, and are made deeper by great burdens. The damage cannot be healed fully, no, but it can be bridged::

::TRUE, AND-...WHAT ARE YOU SEEKING TO DO, TOUCHING THIS ONE THAT WAY?::

The voice sounds slightly distracted.

::I like playing with people's hair:: she admitted serenely. ::Metaphysical manifestations or no::

Rachel? Is odd. A well known fact.

::You don't want me telling Bruce what I've seen here do you?:: they never did...screwed up plans and all...

There is a pause and then, the being looks at her.

::YOU MAY. IF YOU DESIRE TO DO SO. THIS ONE IS NOT SURE IT IS WISE, BUT, YOU ARE THE STARCHILD. THIS ONE WILL YIELD TO YOUR JUDGEMENT. THIS ONE AND THE HULK'S PURPOSE IS NOT INVALIDATED BY KNOWLEDGE, FOR NECCESSITY HAS DENIED IT EVEN DEATH AND DARKNESS AS ALTERNATIVES. THERE IS NOWHERE ELSE FOR THIS ONE AND THE HULK TO GO.::

Her fingers pause a secnd, head tilting to the side as she chuckled. ::And what do you want?:: she asked curiously.

There is a long pause as an entity not given to thinking of such gives form to desire.

::FOR BOTH TO FIND WHAT LITTLE JOY THERE IS TO BE HAD. THERE IS LITTLE, FOR THE NECCESSITY THAT BINDS US/I/THIS ONE/HULK/BRUCE. TIME, HOWEVER, ALLOWS FOR SMALL JOYS. PURPOSE IS ONE OF THEM. PERHAPS PURPOSE WILL GIVE HIM/I/BRUCE JOY?::

::More joy than there is now:: she agreed. ::And maybe a little peace for you all::

She leaned forward to kiss the shifting forehead lightly, a smile playing along her lips ::Would you like me to leave you with anything until I visit again?::

The entity eyes her.

::I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. WHY DID YOU KISS THIS ONE? AND WHAT WOUOLD YOU LEAVE?::

Confusion is plain.

::Because it's a small joy:: she shrugged, leaning back and spinning slightly, dancer-like, to eye the path back.

::A distraction::

::WHAT SORT OF DISTRACTION?::

It watches her.

::YOU ARE A STRANGE WOMAN, STARCHILD.::

::Yes, I am:: she's never lied about that.

And instead of words, she offers...a puzzle? Imagine a rubiks cube of colored starlight, only with far more sides and variations...and no wrong answer.

Imagine emotion and song woven into each color, to tingle and fizz with each shift...

A distraction.

The entity looks at it and, for the first time, smiles.

::MY THANKS, STARCHILD... RACHEL. MAY YOUR VOYAGES GO WELL::

She just grinned, mischief and sorrow so intermingled in that single expression that it could break far more hearts than a world could hold.

::I'm trusting you to do what you can::

::We'll meet again, I promise::

She doesn't need a path back, she just starts to fade away, seeping from Bruce's mind.

::Find that joy...::

::PERHAPS...::

Then Bruce shudders and wakes from his half-doze.

And there's Rachel, looking at him with concern from across the table "You okay?"

"Yes... a little tired... I feel as if I ran a marathon."

He looks puzzled.

he blinks then and looks at her.

"What about you? You okay?"

"Of course" she chuckled. "I'm tougher than I look"

"Besides, nothing tried to hurt me at all" no false modesty,just truth.

He nods.

"Good. What happened?"

he cants his head, curious.

"Brace yourself" she smiled, and it's as gentle as it amused.

"You're a chosen one, a champion for life and good. To facilitate this? You have Hulk, who IS, and another, we'll call him the Watcher for now. Pieces of you, integrated permantly...or with no other place to go. I had a chat"

He blinks.

"I'm a what?"

he blinks again. Gobsmacked.

"Chosen. A scion. A Tool. A champion. Fated by Gods...pick one?" the list get's longer...after all, it's a hobby of hers.