etrayalogs | {Everyone thinks that we're perfect

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{Everyone thinks that we're perfect

WHO: Yelena Belova, Dick Grayson, Octavia Blake, & Cassandra De Rolo (+Others?)
WHEN: During Mission 004
WHERE: Grayson-Belova family unit house; otherwise noted
WHAT: Family shenanigans
NOTES\WARNINGS: Dysfunctional family dynamics; heavy family-related emotions; will otherwise be marked where needed.

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Yelena

What are we doing for dinner tonight?

Octavia

Tacos?

Dick

It's not even Tuesday!

Cassandra

Ohmygod. 🙄

Octavia

Ugh Dad, stop.

Yelena

Yes, please, no more dad jokes.

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This mission has barely started and Yelena is already having some feelings about it stir somewhere in the back of her mind, and low and angry in her stomach. Give her monsters or people she can fight, great, she can handle that. Handing her a pre-made family and expecting her to just fall in line with that idea, though? That has her feeling unsteady on her feet even as she walks inside the house, which looks like it was plucked straight out of some 90s sitcom or something. Every single one on the block looks the same, at least from the outside. It's unnerving in that uncanny valley sort of way where everything looks just a little too perfect.

Her boots make soft sounds against the hardwood floor as she moves deeper into the house, taking it all in, fingers trailing distractedly against furniture as she walks-- the table in the front hallway by the door, the wall, the back of the couch... anything that hits about waist high. It's nicer than the house she remembers growing up in, but it tugs on those old memories too, tangling her gut into knots she won't bother trying to untangle for now.

"Pick your rooms, I guess," she says, mostly to the girls branded as daughters of the house, as she comes to stand in the center of the living room, hands on her hips. "I suppose we are meant to share," she says to Dick, who she is only passingly familiar with, but as fake husbands go, she thinks maybe he'll be all right.

Cassandra hates all of this. She hates all of this so very, very much. They are playing with ALL of those that have been brought here under the guise of proving their worlds worthy of saving. And while she no longer believes that this is just another game the Briarwoods are playing… she still firmly believes that SOMEone is playing a game with them.

To be brought here, to be FORCED to be here, and thrust into this false, pre-made family… it strikes her somewhere she’s buried so deep. That she’s had to bury so deep in order to survive. The still deeply raw, bleeding wound that that is the slaughter of her family by those they had welcomed into their home. Something she's never had a chance to truly deal with. Something she's never had a chance to mourn.

It makes her more prickly than usual. More tense, and more suspicious, and swallowing down a deep-set desire to rebel. To tear this place apart at the seams. (That, however, is extremely unlikely. No matter how badly she might wish it. But she can watch. And she can learn. And she can wait. She can play this game.)

So here she is, a slip of a girl in an oversized sweater, frowning and making a face at the interior of the house this family they’ve been assigned has been provided. (Does she have half a desire to knock one of the ugly vases sitting around to the floor like the half-feral cat that she is? Yes, yes she does.)

“Do you think they’re monitoring us here?” she asks. “Or is it just in public?” It feels like a near certainty that they are.

Edited 2024-08-01 10:17 (UTC)

"Honestly?" she looks over at the baby of their fabricated family unit, "I do not think there is anywhere in any of these cities we are not being watched and studied." She's not trying to lean into the girl's paranoia or anything, here, but... well. Spy. Also quite paranoid herself.

It's not paranoia if they're actually doing what you're worried about, is it? Or not simply paranoia. Cassandra has been suspicious since she's arrived. It's not going to change any time soon. (Except for the worst.)

She's studying things thoughtfully as she wanders around the room. "Everything seems a bit more... technologically focused, at least in the cities we've been in, so I don't think they'd lean towards more magical means of surveillance? Doesn't mean they can't. Doesn't mean they don't. Just that magic doesn't seem to be their first resort. Which means we might be able to devise methods to give ourselves a bit more privacy."

"I have a feeling your father and I can handle tech bugs if we find them in the house," she glances at him for confirmation, there, but what she does know of him... seems like he might be the tinkering type, and that is only in their favor.

"Magic is pretty prominent where you're from, yeah?" she focuses on Cass again, curious. She's learned bits and pieces here and there, but Cassandra is almost more closed off than some adults Yelena has known.

That simple little sentence makes the tangled snarl of emotions in her chest tighten and for a moment Cassandra can’t breathe. She hides it, she always hides it. But it hurts. And she hates the people who did this even more. “It might be more than that sort of bug. Or not just that sort of bug. They might not need to plant anything in the house.” This place is advanced enough that it might not be necessary for them to bug the houses they’ve assigned to those brought here. And she's used to things that can be used to find others with the only limitation being that they're on the same plane of existence.

“It is, yes,” she answers. “Both arcane magic and divine.” This she offers easily. There’s no need to hide it; it’s not something she’s tried to hide. No, she’s keeping other things close to her chest.

Edited 2024-08-02 02:42 (UTC)

She hums thoughtfully at that point. She's not sure about it, but she can't ever be completely sure of anything in this place. "Maybe, but we can still do a sweep of the house, just to be sure." If nothing else, it might help ease their minds at least a little bit.

"Come, come," She gestures for Cassandra to come closer and, telegraphing her moves with enough time for her to dodge it if she isn't feeling it, she tries to put an arm around her shoulders. Yelena won't be offended if she doesn't particularly seem fond of it.

"Tell me more about it?" She guides them through the house, now just checking the layout of the whole place. "Would I be able to see evidence of it? Feel it somehow? Or do you have to be particularly magically inclined for those things?" At least explaining how magic works in her experience might take both of their minds off of some of the other swirling thoughts attacking at the moment.

Cassandra wonders if they couldn’t manage a sort of… technological silent spell. So that way anything or anyone that might be trying to keep a surreptitious eye on them won’t be able to hear what they’re saying.

Yelena, is, perhaps, one of the only people here who she might let put an arm around her shoulders. And the fact that she telegraphs the move, making it clear to her what she’s going to do, helps. It helps a great deal. (But it doesn’t help the tangled snarl of emotions in her chest at ALL.) She tries very hard to not think about it as Yelena puts her arm around her shoulder. As she lets her put her arm around her shoulder.

Focusing on her question is good. She’s going to do that.

“Most spellcasting in my world requires different components in order to cast. Verbal, somatic, and material. Spells don’t necessarily need all three. It depends on the spell. But verbal and somatic are noticeable components, that you can see and hear the spellcaster use. You can’t really sense magic being used, though.” A pause, then she adds. “There’s a spell to be able to detect magic, although that’s more to see objects and creatures that bear magic.”

Yelena knows none of this has been easy, and that Cassandra has as many issues with trust as anyone else, but there's a sort of warmth that spreads inside her chest when she accepts that simple gesture. She's someone Yelena has been looking out for since she got here, and it's nice to know, in any minor way it can be shown, that it's appreciated. That the trust is being built here between them.

She will continue their walkthrough of the house as they talk, taking a moment to pause and check out each room as they go, "So then... we could only know if we saw them cast the spell?" she's just trying to follow, and this is pretty well outside of her general realm of understanding. Magic might, to some extent, exist in her world– the Asgardians and Scarlet Witch do come to mind– but it's never been part of Yelena's life at all. No need to study up on that when she was doing the dirty work behind the scenes, usually involved with more politically or similarly minded types. Assassins and magic? Not so common a cross-over, actually.

She peeks into bedrooms as they walk through halls, "So, if there are magical recording devices, that detection spell could possibly pick up on it, yes? Would you be able to do it?" Or is her knowledge more strictly of the academic sort? These would be good things to know.

From the beginning, Dick has kept the majority of his thoughts to himself. He showed up here with a large bag slung around his back that he dropped off neatly in the strange suburban living room they were given. Dick hasn't felt particularly comfortable since he ended up in Etraya, but this time there aren't any battles to be fought or plushies to be destroyed. He's here to be a house husband, whatever the hell that is.

At least he's familiar with Yelena and even though they spent a short time together, his senses tell him that she's more trustworthy than not. He also knows that she's skilled. Thankfully. The young girl named Cass -- Dick wonders if that's the one that she asked Dick to keep an eye out for in the labyrinth.

As for the rest, he agrees that they are probably meant to share a room. He's not so worried about it. He's shared plenty of rooms over time with people. They can play whatever role is carved out for them. Moving along through the house, Dick keeps his eyes open. He too believes that there's very little they can do to keep out of the watchful eyes of the powers that be, but he's always kept his eyes open for every sort of tech he knows of. Fingers travel over surfaces, above and below as they move.

Listening carefully to the questions Yelena is asking, Dick is fascinated by the answers that the young girl gives. There's a wealth of wisdom in her young eyes. He recognizes the eyes of one who has lived through too much already, because he's seen them reflected not only in the eyes of others, but in the mirror itself.

"It would be rather helpful to have eyes on both fronts. I'm good with technical pursuits, and will be able to keep an eye out that way. If you are able to reach out magically, it would be a terrific help. Although, it's completely understandable if you don't feel comfortable enough to do it. This is hardly any normal situation, and living with strangers isn't easy for any one here, I imagine.

“Yes. Unfortunately. It’s the best way to know if a spell’s being cast. The only way.” For non-spellcasters, anyway. “It should. Probably. I don’t know if any magic they might use would be different enough to not register. It’s possible.” So much is unknown, and it bothers her greatly.

Cassandra hesitates, at Dick’s words. Despite her best attempts to hide it. She hasn’t used what spells she has in… a long time. She hasn’t dared. Not that that mattered much. Because she hasn’t wanted to touch it. Magic has felt… wrong. So very, very wrong. Because of the Briarwoods. It’s… besmirched. After everything they’ve done. Everything she’s witnessed. Everything she’s suffered.

But it’s something she can DO, here. It means she can be useful, for more than just the other wealth of roguish skills her mother had taken care to teach her from the moment she first learned to walk, as has come to use as easily as breathing. She nods, answering them both. “I can.”

And she doesn’t mean to add more. Doesn’t mean to say anything, but this whole situation has her… distinctly uneasy. So she adds, she can’t help but add, “This isn’t my first time.” Living with strangers, she means. “I think I prefer this, honestly.” Not the entire situation. But the situation in this house. These strangers. She might not know any of them well, save for perhaps Yelena, and even then she doesn’t know her that well, yet. But she’s almost certain that none of them will hurt her. None of them will torment her. Torture her. Or feed on her. (Her scars are well hidden, now. Beneath sweater and cowl neckline. Always higher necked pieces of clothing.)

She’s far safer here than she’s been in Whitestone in… years.

Octavia already knew what they were getting into from the start of the mission but that didn't make it any easier. It only added to the discomfort and other feelings it brought up from being thrown into these fake families. From looking at the names on the piece of paper that had their roles all lined up for them, she was at least familiar with some of the names so she wasn't completely thrown into being grouped with all strangers but she still hated the whole idea of this.

Technically one could argue that this mission seemed more doable and had some level of familiarity for people but she didn't fall into that category. She would much rather be dealing with fighting monsters or other people any day of the week because as she walks through the streets, the seemingly picture perfect houses were way too eerily normal and not just because it isn't what she is used to.

Octavia doesn't have too much on her aside from her sword at her hip and a backpack she carries over her shoulder but as she steps foot inside, she does marvel at the interior slightly because while she may have seen the inside of an apartment that is way different than being in a house which happens to be a first for her. She is listening and partially paying attention to the conversation but does speak up "We're already being watched in Etraya so that part might not be much different here either. It's not my expertise for something I can help with much but yeah it could be worth a try to see if anything can be detected magically or otherwise"

Several days into their stay in Moorcraft, Dick comes home from being out during the day and is in obvious distress. There's a mark on his face and a little redness around his hairline, possibly other marks undetermined as of yet. He immediately seeks out Yelena and invites her to meet in their room. He knows that he shouldn't be doing this, but he feels like there's no one else to talk to, having felt politely dismissed by the one close friend he has via text.

Once he's upstairs, he immediately begins changing clothes, ripping off the stretched out shirt before going to the bathroom to clean up his face. He fights between anger and tears. Out of all the things that he could have predicted for this day, he couldn't have fathomed this.

Yelena had the day off, and she has found that, were she to live a normal life, she would be very aimless when she was not working. A weird side-effect of this mission has been learning these strange little notes about herself.

When Dick comes in, looking a little worse for wear and mumbling about needing to talk to her, she perks a brow and follows him to their shared room. “What is wrong, husband?” she asks, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. She’s taken to calling him that during this mission almost as much as she’s used his actual name; she is nothing if not excellent at playing roles handed to her on the fly. Just spy things, you know.

"Can you close the door, please. I don't want the kids involved in any of this. This is something very personal for me, and I'm going to trust you to keep it between us." Dick moves from the bathroom back to Yelena, and takes her hand. It's obvious that he's shaken. He doesn't shake easily, but Etraya, Moorecraft, all of it has shaken the very foundation of who he is and it's been more difficult on him than he likes to admit.

He'd truly been doing better until today. Dick had made peace with the fact that there was another version of him running around, another version that had a whole 'family' here with him, people that looked up to him and had names that Dick knew, but weren't anywhere near the actual people that Dick knew. They compared him, and he knew it. He compared himself at first, but he figured that was stupid, and realized that he could only be himself and pulled himself away from all that to begin living his own life here in Etraya.

Still that didn't mean there weren't a few in that group that weren't still a little special to him.

"I... I'm not exactly only Dick Grayson. I have a story, a history, a background. I know we all do in this house. We've shared some of it already."

She moves to close the door at his request, and when he rejoins her in the room, taking her hand in his, she squeezes his fingers in hers; that, at least, is an easy sort of comfort to offer someone. She can do that. She's still miles better at giving comfort than receiving it from other people. Baby steps. "I won't say anything, I promise." He can trust that, at least, she hopes.

"What happened?" she asks, gesturing with her free hand at her face, in the same place the mark on his rests. "You had a fight with someone?" An obvious leap to make, of course, but it might prompt him to give her more details.

Yelena frowns slightly, "What do you mean?" she thinks she knows; there are so many of them on the Oracle Network, hero types and vigilantes alike. She just wants to be sure she's following where this is going. "Of course, every person has a story... what is this about?"

This is a tale, and so he figures they'd both be best at least sitting on the bed they share. It's been easy with Yelena, and for that Dick has been super grateful. He's had plenty of girlfriends that have been far more difficult than his wife. She's simple to get along with and neither of them require any handholding and are gracious in getting along.

It's also been nice for Dick to have company. He's been pretty damn lonely for a while, and it's fucking sucked, if he's being truthful. That's all a part of this as well. "Back home, I'm a vigilante, I'm Nightwing. I'm the ward of the very rich and powerful Bruce Wayne, obviously not the young one we have here, who is also Batman. Not many people know this. There's an entire group of vigilantes that all work together as a part of my... I don't know adopted family, I guess? There's another version of my face here in Etraya even, another Dick Grayson. He's got blue eyes, and is full of fucking puns and would probably never use the word fuck." Dick chuckles a little. "He's trained and worked in his world through a lot more than I have. I think he's younger somehow, but I don't know how it all works. He's just got a lot more people here from his universe, and they all look up to him, respect him and the like. We've held meetings, us, Bat and Bird people- People who have worked in the service of one Batman or another, and I'm the odd man out. Even the other Bruce here, people look up to him, even if he's young and doesn't know any of the other names." It's hard to talk and explain all this, so he pauses to see if she's understanding what he's talking about.

"Are you following me at all?"

She follows him to sit on the bed, shifting so she's facing him as he starts explaining... so much more than she might have anticipated in asking that question. Still, she's patient and she listens as he talks, giving her this grand backstory of information. She makes mental notes of names and handles for her own personal reference later.

She is familiar with the way there can be alternate versions of people here– Clint Barton, Kate Bishop, they are different than the ones she knew– but she had no idea that anyone had a double like that actively here at the same time. That... that has to be so strange. Beyond weird. She wouldn't know what to do with it if some different, weird, wrong version of herself were here. It makes her stomach squirm just considering the idea of it.

"It's a little insane," she admits but nods anyway, "but yes... I follow. These Bats and Birds... are they also alternate versions of people you knew at home?"

Inhaling deeply, Dick nods and squeezes her hand. If he knew her better he might hug her at this point. It's been so long since he's had simple contact. He's taken it awkwardly from Clark Kent, but when he tried to even initiate a conversation with him recently it felt like he was being rebuffed. Clark had a life with Bruce, his other friend in this little world. They weren't close, but they were working on a ... sort of tentative relationship. It was difficult. Dick was the one person who was good at treating the people whose names had those of the ones he knew back home as strangers, because that's how he wanted to be treated in a way.

There was a shared history with the other Dick. They grew up in the same home, but the rest was completely different. "I don't know them all. That's the thing. There are so many more, and getting to know them is difficult. They all have this version of me that's so ... I don't know... perfect? in their heads? He's done so much right, but I'm not that person. I've fucked up a lot in my world. It took me a long time before I formed my found family and stopped running. It took a fucking fifteen year old to get me to realize that she needed me. I mean, Rachel isn't fifteen anymore. She's a senior in high school now, and eighteen, but still. I also died in my world, and was put in this pit thing that brings people back, but has a cost. I didn't pay as much as a lot of people do, not like Jason. I have a bit of darkness in me, that's not in the other Dick." He paused again, because he knew she got that. He'd seen enough to know that no one in this family was snow white.

That's why Dick liked being with the three women they'd put him with. Maybe that's why he'd been placed with the family he had been put with. He took another breath and continued. "Anyways, In the other Dick's life, family, his Bruce or Batman ... somehow left, or did something that took him away and he became Batman, I think? Also, that Bruce and a pretty big assassin had a child, named Damian. Now, this you can't tell anyone. None of this. I mean, it's so secret. We keep all of this so silent. I know you don't tell secrets, but me saying all this is ... well, I'd be well done and probably killed in my sleep for it. Damian here, is also a Robin. I started as a Robin as well, but I became Nightwing. Robin is Batman's right handed man. But, he was the other Dick Grayson's Robin. He was his partner, he was also raised part assassin. He knows so much, Yelena. He should be this young adult, but instead he's deadly, and full of all this wicked fear and knowledge. He pretends he doesn't need anyone, but he's got so much love and respect for the other Grayson, and also for the Bruce here." This is where Dick gets a little emotional. He has to stop for a second to pull himself together. It's obvious that he cares for the young male.

He talks so much. She thinks it is maybe a nervous response. Overexplaining because she has no reference to these people, his life, how any of it all pieces together. It's a lot of moving parts to keep up with, but she manages fine enough. "If they are comparing you, instead of getting to know you, that is on them. I met a girl back home, Kate Bishop, she is... I guess we are friends now that I am no longer trying to kill her hero," it wasn't a normal meet-cute, okay, sue her. "But she's here, too. Some version of her is, anyway. She is not the same, but... know that she is not, I do not expect her to treat me like the Kate I know. That is the only fair way to be with this strange dvoynik situation." She doesn't know the word in English, and is sort of hoping maybe he knows at least a little Russian, or it makes sense in context even if he doesn't. "They should not expect you to be someone else, you can only be...who you are."

"You came back from death?" She hates that it is even a mild consideration in her mind to find out more about this pit, in case she remembers all of the things she learns here if she ever goes home. In case she could bring her sister back for real, there, too. Not that there is a promise she could find it in her world. But the maybe... it could be enough to fuel her, if she just gets to keep all her memories of this place. "Did it put the darkness in you," she asks, her voice softer because the question she's asking is a gut-punch and she knows it, "or did it simply awaken something that you were ignoring in yourself already?"

"I won't tell anyone anything we are discussing, it is no one else's business." She assures him, but when he continues, she cocks her head to the side a bit. "I have met Damian. Brusque for a child, but knows his Russian." She'd met him when Aurora had made coffee meeting demands of them.

She frowns a little when he gets all choked up. "Hey," in the tiniest little bit of attempt at levity, she presses one index finger to the center of his forehead and pushes upward, making him look up at her, "you cannot expect a child grown up in that sort of environment to just be a child. He does not know how to be one, and it is too late to learn how, probably. I don't know..."

She sighs softly and debates exactly what to say next. Is this the part where she opens up in turn? Maybe. Just a little. "But I know what it's like— being a child soldier. I was stolen away from my family, raised a spy and assassin for an entity that called itself The Red Room. I was only six. It changes you, robs you of so many things you should have had."

When he first came to her, wanting to talk, she thought whatever it was must have been more recent thing to discuss, something that happened just today, cause-effect, action-reaction. But as he continues to explain, she's realizing this is just the resulting tail-spin from something that has already been building for months now.

Based on her small interactions with Damian, everything he just explained sounded very on-brand. Still. That doesn't diminish anything of how he feels about it all. "Did he call you that? An enemy?" Damian at least doesn't seem like the type to mince words, if anything, she assumes he'd be more likely to say something harsh and terrible and regret it later.

"That sounds terrible," she admits as he explains further about the pit. "I don't know how you overcame that, but if you were released from its hold, then... maybe it's effects on you are only small." Which, when dark magic is in the mix, may not mean much. She doesn't have any experience with that, though she knows that magic of a kind does exist in the world she has come from.

"I can help you remember it, if you like," She smiles softly, "It is my native tongue." she nods a bit, "Yes, I had a chat with him half in Russian when I met him. When Aurora was trying to make us have those silly little coffee-dates. He's... rough around the edges," it's the only way she can think to describe him from that little conversation.

Her eyes drop down to their hands, where his thumb slides lightly against the back of her hand. She ignores the strange little twist in her stomach and nods as explains more of his life with Bruce. "We are all built by our experiences, for better or worse..."

"Worth a chance to try, at least," she says to Cass, tilting her head slightly to one side in consideration. She is letting the younger girl take point on this particular discussion because it seems she's easily the most knowledgeable person in the room on the subject.

Octavia has been mostly quiet, but it isn't so unusual for what experience Yelena's had with her so far, she's not an overly chatty sort of person. "True enough," she nods her agreement. "It feels like they might take it much more seriously here, keeping eyes on us." Maybe that's just the spy-assassin paranoia talking.

[ it has been almost a week since their arrival in moorecroft and it has been quite an adjustment for octavia and not just from how it's different from what she is used to back home but even with how things seem to operate here with the built in routine and daily tasks.

it was weird but despite that she finds herself looking over the current list of the day on the digital calendar with slight curiousity. there were a lot of things listed that she has never done before in her life or know what it means beyond some vague context clues while others seemed pretty straightforward. she was considering ignoring this entirely but she figures it probably had some purpose to them much like other missions so when she hears yelena join her in the kitchen, she turns and looks towards her] Have you seen the list we have today?

[octavia had never really experienced being in school at least in the traditional sense known to most people especially when her existence had to be kept secret. she had been taught things by both her mother and older brother as she grew up so the social aspect of the school wasn't anything she has ever been part of outside of the one impromptu lesson on earth skills she had been made to attend along with all the other delinquents before they were thrown onto the dropship sent down to earth.

it had been a nerve wracking and awkward experience for her back then but now as she is being faced with having to attend school in moorecroft, it was simultaneously something she was curious about while finding it completely overwhelming. she was sent on her way to go to school for the along with cassandra early in the morning and the more she thinks about this, the more she decidedly doesn't want to attend at least for now. she doesn't quite know how the other girl feels about all this but as they are walking on their way, she tentatively makes the suggestion] Hey. What are your thoughts on skipping out on school today?

It was only a matter of time. With the… current situation bringing up feelings she would rather ignore. Avoid. She would need to sleep eventually. Even if she did her best to put it off for as long as possible. Too often she could be found somewhere in the house she shares with Yelena and Octavia, reading, or drawing, or tinkering.

But eventually, Cassandra de Rolo slept. And she dreamt. Of home. Of her family.

Of the Briarwoods.

Her nightmare is tumultuous, scene after scene flickering past, reliving it all as though it were happening again. And again. Blood, and horror, and terror, filling her chest and her head.

Until she wakes, scrambling backwards in her bed until her back slams into the headboard, screaming.

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{Everyone thinks that we're perfect

{Let's play pretend, act like it comes naturally

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swoops in late to the party to ramble about.

\o/

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For Yelena

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doppleganger;

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➡ yelena

➡ cassandra

For Yelena