shatterverse | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Yesterday, Bridgette made a snowman by the pond of the Cooper farm. Button eyes, scarf, carrot nose, branches for arms. Nothing terribly exciting about that.

Today, she's gotten tired of looking at it. She's outside, with a short sword in hand, glaring at the snowman intensely.

With a cry of 'en garde!' she hacks at her snowman's lower torso. Marie, sitting a few feet from the snowman, watches with interest.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Um. She wants details? Bridgette hadn't planned for this. Technically she's never actually killed anyone.

But she can imagine it. A lot more, ever since Katara's ghost told her that there might be away to bring Marie back.

Bridgette avoids Dinah's gaze, eventually finding herself looking at the house. "Let's go inside. I don't wanna-- it's cold. Out here. Please?"

"OK," says Dinah, all heart and entirely convinced by the little girl.

But she's still not going to teach her to kill.

She stands, hand moving to Bridgette's head. "Do you want cocoa?"

Bridgette holds a hand out, saying, "C'mere Marie. We'll kill Frosty later, 'kay?"

Bridgette's fingers close over thin air a few moments later.

"Sure. Cocoa's cool," Bridge replies, without any real enthusiasm.

"Or hot," Dinah says. "It'll warm you up."

Bridgette nods, not caring whether cocoa is hot or cold one way or the other.

Once inside, Bridgette will sit down on a couch in the living room - fortunately empty despite all the people here - without drying off her sword, which she puts on the couch next to her. Bridgette puts an arm around thin air.

She doesn't make a move to get cocoa for herself. That's what grownups are for.

With a mouth quirk at the insistence of Marie, Dinah spends a minute in the kitchen before bringing two cups through, observing the sword lying wet.

She decides to let it rust, and sits on the arm of the couch, leaving room for Bridge's imaginary friend.

"How are you doing, Bridge?"

Automatically, "I'm okay."

A moment of silence produces a muttered, "Sometimes."

One strong arm wraps around her.

"You miss home?"

Bridgette picks up her cup of cocoa and blows on it a few times, carefully maneuvering her arm .

"Yeah." She gently kicks her leg against the couch as she stares into the cup. "I have Inty and Gabe, and I love them, and also a lotta people here are really nice and cool, like you guys and Steph and the Rabbit and everyone else. But they're also...you know, back home before the flu, things were good. I didn't always think so back the, but that's 'cuz I was a kid."

"Things get harder as you get older," Dinah says. "I'm sorry, Bridge. Wish I could say otherwise."

Bridgette nods and sips her cocoa. Then she holds her cup out to her left for a few moments, then pulls it back again.

"It's good," Bridge says, gaze still on the cup. "We both like it."

"Good," Dinah says with satisfaction. "I can't cook to save my life, but I can heat up milk."

A glance up at Dinah, a small smile.

"Mommy used to put whipped cream and cinnamon on me an' Ariel's hot cocoas. We only ever had them at Christmas. 'Cuz we lived in Phoenix and we liked to drink cold stuff most of the time. It was special."

Bridgette falls silent. She'd forgotten that until now. How many other things about home is she going to forget?

Kick, kick, kick goes her foot against the couch.

"Maybe we can find you some cinnamon here," Dinah says. "If you want some?"

"No thanks. It's good.

"Did your Mommy do special stuff too? Like on Christmas and stuff?"

'Did your Mommy do special stuff?' Dinah almost laughs out loud. She does grin, just because that's not what Bridgette meant.

"No, but my Daddy did. He used to take me ice skating on Christmas Eve, down at the Gotham mall. And every Thanksgiving he made me hot cider. I never found out the recipe that made it really special."

"That's cool," Bridgette says, quiet but genuine, before taking another sip of cocoa.

"My Granny was a good skater. The rest of us never really learned. We always kept falling down, but she kept taking us. Every time we went to her place on winter break."

"I haven't been since I was little," Dinah admits. "What was your Granny like?"

"She's nice. She always brought us toys - ones we liked, not dumb ones like some grannies give. She gave me paints one time. Oil paints."

Oil paints to a seven year old girl; yes, Grandma Dubois was a bit indulgent.

"Ariel said I'd just make a mess with 'em but I never did."

"of course you didn't," Dinah says. "Ariel's your big sister?"

"Yeah. She's fourteen."

Bridgette becomes fascinated with her cup again.

"She's okay. I guess. For a big sister. Even if we fought sometimes. ...A lot of times. She was bossy. Um. Is bossy. If she's...out there.

"We used to share rooms until she got her own one, but I didn't get my own room, but I got the top bunk on the bunk-bed because Marie couldn't climb up the ladder well.

"The earth-house outside," Bridgette decides, "needs some bunk-beds."

"I never had any brothers or sisters," Dinah admits. "Until I joined the Justice League, then I suddenly had dozens. I miss them a lot, even the ones I always fought with.

"I think Toph could make some bunk beds when she gets back."

"Who were your brothers and sisters on the Justice League?"

"Batman," Dinah starts readily. "Green Lantern, Flash, Wonder Woman and Zatanna, Arsenal. And then later Oracle, Lady Blackhawk and Huntress."

Bridgette's response to that impressive set of names?

"Cool." If she were in a better mood, that'd be said with an exclamation point and a grin. Instead she looks interested but unsmiling.