(no subject)

[herr_bookman]

There's a girl on the practice range today, wearing blue snakeskin gloves and matching boots. Ribbons festoon the leather harness of her silver wings, and her arm bangles bounce when she does.

How ridiculous she looks is entirely subjective.

The girl smiles.

Then she punctures a steel plate with a tiny, glittery fist.

Comments

[herr_bookman]

"Not usually, no," Autor says, chuckling. "What about you? You seem pretty comfortable wearing you friend's skin. What do you do normally?"

[ever_lovin]

"Yet this form is weaker than yer usual?" Ben says pointedly. "I'm a superhero. Big orange rock guy. I ain't been in inna while so ya may not have spotted me."

[herr_bookman]

"Yup!" she says cheerfully. And that's all she'll say about that.

Big orange roc--ohh, he thinks, and she flushes with his shame. I owe you a latke. Or three. It's unsettling, suddenly being reminded of that old desperation. He's felt different flavors of it before and since, but nothing quite like that.

"Big orange rock guy, huh? That's pretty unique," she says. "Are you from a version of Earth, then, or elsewhere?"