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Metanoia debated with herself for a moment. Talk to the cape while looking away from her, or risk looking at her and running away in fright? In the end, politeness, manners, and Metanoia’s desire to avoid shunning someone for their appearance won out, and so she steeled herself and attempted to look at the angelic being.

Metanoia immediately twitched, though the thick armor completely hid her reaction. It wasn’t the appearance—it was almost beautiful in a way that made Metanoia want to examine her further—but instead it was the sudden surge of unwarranted terror that took her by surprise. She shoved it down, though, forcing her body to relax with her biokinesis and trying to think happy thoughts. It was just another indication of how strange cape powers were and another reminder of her own vulnerability.

“The fight wasn’t too bad,” Metanoia said lightly, tilting her head and tapping her completely mended chestplate. She was smiling under her helmet, not that the other cape could see her. “But I will accept your gratitude.”

The filigree on Metanoia’s armor grew more intricate as the seconds passed, curling vines and overlapping scales rising from every inch of the surface. “I don’t know who they were,” Metanoia said. “As for myself…”

A sense of giddiness grew in her chest as her lips formed her cape name. She’d thought about it for quite some time now, and had spent even more time forcing herself to think of herself in her cape name while in costume to avoid any slip-ups.

“You can call me Metanoia,” she said happily, the last word resonating oddly in her throat. “I can grow and manipulate bone at close range, and today’s my first day out and about. This isn’t how I planned to start my cape career, but I couldn’t stand by without helping.” She held out a gauntleted hand for the angelic cape to shake. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?”