milliways_bar | (no subject)

She's going to have to be quick if she wants a shot of the blur that's going by. Coming in from around the stables, Barry is just a red streak with gold lighting sparking and dancing along behind him.

He heads straight for the lake and without missing a step hits the water and continues on running over the surface of it.

Racing across the lake, his course arcs when he reaches the far bank and he loops back around, returning to the nearside where he finally comes to a skidding stop on the shoreline.

Laughing, Barry pushes back the red cowl he's wearing and turns to look out over the trail he's just run, not realizing that he may have an audience.

Max is fortunate she is in the process of framing a shot of the lake - trees on all sides, the mountain beyond - when she sees the movement out of the corner of her eyes and realizes what she must be seeing. Without hesitation - perhaps with a slight bit of cheating - she turns slightly towards the motion and presses the shutter, not even pausing to hope for focus or framing.

The flash goes off, the camera whirs and spits out a frame of instant film. But that was all in a single moment. So fast. Unbelievably fast. Now all she can do is wait. She might have still been too late. If she's lucky, she'll have caught a blur.

"I believed you when you said you were fast, but I didn't know just how fast you meant!" she stammers at Barry, stepping over towards him.

Barry looks over his shoulder, and then turns fully around, throwing her a smile.

"Max, hey!"

He grins at her amazement, and then he notices the camera and his expression turns slightly alarmed.

"Oh man, I didn't just photobomb you, did I?"

"Only if I'm lucky," she smiles at him, holding up the developing Polaroid. Landscapes can wait. "I want to see if my flash is fast enough to catch yours."

Barry's smile turns into a grin and he nods.

"You'd be one of the few if you did," he says, hoping she is.

"So you getting a lot of good shots around here?" he asks. He knows she's shy about her work, so that isn't a request to see them, just a question on how she's liking Milliways so far.

"Lots," she nods, chuckling slightly. "So far, everyone I've met has been really nice, and they've been okay with having someone... flitting around taking photos."

"That's great," Barry says, genuinely happy for her.

"I told you it was a great place. Strange, for sure, but most of the people here are awesome."

And after awhile a person just gets used to the strangeness.

"So, how'd you do?" he asks, nodding at the Polaroid. "We can try again if you want, I'm out here training so I can take another run at it, no problem."

"We're both out here training, then," she smiles. One learns to take pictures by taking pictures. Max... hesitates, but steps forward with the Polaroid. "Let's see how it turned out."

It's easier to share her photo with someone she knows. It's when people - strangers - will be seeing it without her there, judging it, that real anxiety blooms in her chest.

She holds up the photo so they both can see. The line of the lake is coming into focus, and the dark shapes of the trees beyond. In the foreground, a curve crossing the flat surface of the lake and breaking the grey reflection of the cloudy sky, is a bright red blur.

"Yeah? It's a good place for it. Especially since it's December in the mid-west."

He smiles when she shares the photo, and watches as the image develops. His eyes widen and his smile grows when he sees what she captured.

"That's awesome! And wow, I really like your framing, too." Raising a gloved hand, Barry points out the treeline and lake with its reflections; gesturing without touching the photo.

"This has gotta be one of the best Flash photos I've seen."

Max's ears burn with the power of her blush at all of the praise. "Thank you," she quavers, ducking her head a little. "My shutter speed is no match for yours, but I'm pleased to have caught your blur. Lucky timing."

Yup. Luck!

"Trust me, my friend Iris writes a blog about the Flash and she gets a lot of pictures. This one is good."

The other ones... they're the whole reason he was called 'The Streak' for so long.

He gives her a smile and then, not wanting to embarrass her too much, a reprieve from the subject by asking, "So, how've things been going with you?"

He's not asking, but is sort of asking, about that big event she talked about the last time at her school. Mostly though, he just wants to know how she's doing.

"I've been okay. Exploring this place when I can, taking photos of whoever's all right with it," she replies with a slight, wry grin.

"It's the same day, back home. Time has.... gone pretty weird, since I found the door to this place."

Since before that, really, but she's not really ready to talk about that.

"Yeah, it'll definitely do that," Barry says about time. "Sometimes I don't even know how to keep track of it anymore."

Giving a chuckle he adds, "Of course, even without Milliways time is... weird for me so I guess I don't really know how much to blame on the bar."

Curiosity, and something... almost wary... enters her look.

"Time is... weird, how?"

Spotting that wary look, Barry hopes he's not back to freaking her out again.

"Oh, well, I lost nine months to the coma while the world moved on without me," he explains. "I'm only just sort of feeling like I've got caught up to that."

Although every once in awhile reminders come up of that time and what he missed.

"And then there's my powers. With superspeed my whole frame of reference is sort of shifted. Like, stuff that used to take me an hour to do I can get done in under a minute. I wouldn't say my temporal disassociation is terrible, I have met another speedster who told me the world literally crawls by for him most of the time, but my perception of time can be a little... off."

He gives a shrug that's partly embarrassed, knowing those things aren't typically problems for most people.

"...Temporal disassociation," Max murmurs, adding it to the list of Things She Should Probably Research.

"Like... your perception of..." she struggles for the words, grimacing a little and looking out at the lake. "Like moving at fast speed would start feeling like your normal speed, and moving normally would feel more like you're having to... consciously move slowly?"

She makes an exaggeratedly slow motion with her hand as she speaks, glancing at him.

"Kind of," Barry replies with a nod. "I think that's how the other guy views it. Right now mine is just... moments."

Thinking of a way to try and explain, Barry goes on.

"So, when I first woke up from the coma and realized things were off I was standing in a coffee shop and this waitress dropped her tray. I saw it happening and it was like time stopped. I could see everything and it was all in slow motion."

At the time he had definitely been worried that he might be going crazy.

"My first thought was that time was slowing down somehow. But it turns out I was just moving so fast it only felt that way." To call it trippy is an understatement.

"Now, I can control it better, but sometimes things still fall out of sync." Which is both cool and weird.

"Usually it's when there's danger or something, an adrenaline spike raises my cortisol levels and my body amps itself up to react. But I don't have to run for it to happen, it's like... my body shifts into this zone of perception where I'm thinking so fast, and seeing everything so fast, I might not even be moving, but I'm processing so fast the rest of the world is barely moving."

Max listens, quiet and still. Looking a little uneasy as she gazes out at the lake, but not upset. She glances at Barry when he describes how it felt like time was slowing down.

"At first, you did it without knowing you could do it. But with practice, you can control it." she nods slightly. "Does it take... concentration to keep it going, or...?"

"Yeah, it just sort of happened," Barry replies, studying her a little.

That seems like a question with purpose more than just curiosity or trying to understand.

Barry wonders a little as he forms an answer for her.

"Not really. I know for some people using their powers is like tensing a muscle, but for me it's almost like falling into a natural state. When I'm running I don't have to think about running, at least no more than anyone else does. If I want to go faster I just push myself faster. If I'm in that zone where things are slowed down I can stay there without too much effort."

His body tends to hold him in place until his mind decides he's ready to react to whatever it was that set things off.

"Going beyond what I can already do can take concentrating, but in general it's just acting and reacting. Most of my concentration goes into strategy, trying to figure out the bad guy or remembering the fighting moves someone showed me."

Of course, he knows he should do that part without so much concentration, but he's not to the stage yet where fighting comes as instinct for him.

He gives a chuckle and admits, "Actually, the hardest part for me is not using my speed."

"Not using it... how?" she asks, a slight edge of wariness in her tone.

Her own power takes concentration and effort, though she has been far too cautious to test any limits there might be on it.

She hates to think of there being a situation that would require her to test its limits.

"Like it takes effort not to be using your speed?" He did say it was like falling into a natural state.

"It's not like I lose control," Barry says quickly, suddenly worried that that's how he made it sound. "I've got a really good handle on it."

When he's not being whammied by evil metavillains.

"It's more of a, being aware of where I'm at and what I'm doing sort of thing." He hopes that explains it better. "I've gotten used to using my speed for just about everything, because well, because I can. But, like I said I've also got the secret identity thing to keep up. And then there's also sort of remembering that not everyone is used to or appreciates the superspeed thing. I really try not to weird people out."

He's just not always successful. Now might be an example.

There's also instances and people like with Wilford Warfstache who did not appreciate Barry superspeeding him at all, even if Barry was trying to save the man's life.

Out by the lake there is a man - no longer young, wearing dark robes, his hair cut close to his scalp. He is moving through a smooth martial arts routine, each step sure and fluid, a flash of red showing beneath his robes as he moves.

Max has just about given up on photographing the cats, as all they want is attention and it's hard to resist petting them instead of photographing them, when she notices the man by the lake. Everyone Max has encountered in Milliways has been so photogenic; it's like a photog's playground.

As she steps down towards the lake, the young art student wonders if a still image could truly capture the fluidity of the man's motion. She wonders at the sureness of each step and movement, having never felt that herself. Maybe she's felt some of that ease of motion when pulling out her camera to take a photo - that's practically second nature.

She watches through the Polaroid's viewfinder, seeking the best moment to press the shutter. A moment of motion, of powerful movement; she especially wants to capture that flash of red.

The camera clicks and whirs briefly when she presses the button, a mechanical sound against those of nature, and spits out the square of instant film.

Chirrut lands out of his spin sure-footed, his head ticked towards the new sound.

Gauging.

Assessing.

And then he smiles, broad and guileless, his opaque eyes aimed just slightly off of her face.

"May the Force of others be with you, my dear."

Max hesitates - the Force? The Force? - then smiles slightly in return. Milliways continues to amaze.

"A-and also with you," the little photog says, the meme being the closest approximation to correct reply her mind would give her in the moment.

Chirrut laughs, with a short bow of thanks, bending to scoop up the staff he had left propped up against a nearby outcrop of rocks.

"I am Chirrut Imwe. What brings you out into the cold?" He asks, as he's found most here prefer not to wander as the temperature drops - even if it is still plenty warmer than home.

"Good to meet you, Chirrut Imwe," she says, her smile a little steadier now, her tone a little less hesitant. "I'm Max Caulfield. I came outside to find some inspiration and take some photographs."

"I'm, ah, a photography student back home, and there's really no way to learn except by doing."

That part has been drilled into her, certainly: 'You miss 100% of the shots you don't take,' etc., etc., and everything that Mr. Jefferson has lectured about not missing the moment.

"Ah... what are... photographs?" Chirrut asks, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar word. He is still learning about all of these things that do not exist in his where and when. There seems to be an unending supply - all to the better, as who can mind the time passing when there's so much more to learn.

"But you are not wrong, most things are learned better with experience."

"Photographs are..." She stumbles a little at trying to explain photography, her gaze following the quite lapping of wavelets on the lake shore. "They are images of people, or scenery, or anything, really, made with a device called a camera."

"In my world, more recent cameras can capture digital images, but I'm old-school. My camera uses physical film with light-sensitive chemicals on it to make up the image." Max smiles a little. "With my camera, I can capture still images of moments in time. Taking a photograph... preserves that moment."

"Oh, like holos." Chirrut muses, moving with confidence despite his unfocused gaze. There is a thermos tucked into the rocks near where he'd left the staff. Carefully, not looking at what he is doing, he uncaps the thermos and pours himself a cup of tea into the cap. "Or so I imagine." He allows, with a long-standing cheerful ruefulness.

"Tea?"

Max doesn't often make eye-contact, especially with people she doesn't know well, but she's used to finding the person she's talking to looking directly at her when she does. He's not. He's... It takes her a moment to tell what is different about this man's movements - he's not looking at anything he's doing. He's blind.

And he moves with such ease and surety.

What must that be like?

"Tea would be wonderful, thank you," she says, her soft voice sounding pleased and slightly surprised. The thought of tea comes with a slight pang of remembered guilt. She really should go for tea with Kate sometime soon. It has been too long.

"It is Sapir - the best tea in the galaxy, in my opinion." Chirrut notes, in tones that speak to having a lot of opinions, and very little compunction against sharing them. In his cluster of gear on the rock is a mug, large with a broad handle.

"I brought this for Baze, but I suspect I will have to pry him away from his work later." He rambles, fond, as he pours out more tea (green and fragrant) and offers her the mug.

"I'd be a fool to turn up a chance to try the best tea in the galaxy," she says, with a slight chuckle. "I've not heard of... Sapir, before. Kate and I usually have Oolong, when we can get together for tea. But it's been weeks since we've been able to. Things have been too stressful for tea, lately."

Usually, more stress would call for more tea, but circumstances have prevented them. One way or another.

Max puts her camera carefully away into her messenger bag before she steps forward to accept the offered mug. She smiles gently as she breathes in the fragrant steam that promises a drink well worth savoring. "Ohh, it smells wonderful."