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Descendants

<sup>#375a87 ....|...... outfit .....|..... nightingale .......................................................... #ed1c24 ....|..... outfit .....|..... vanguard.....................

Descendant's Tower</sup>

Jim didn’t exactly have much interest in the last training match. He had slipped on his aviator sunglasses and slotted the small metal patch over his temple. He had work to do, work that trumped whatever training loverboy and the femme fatale were doing in the concrete box. His hands rested firmly in his lap, his eyes shifting through design documents with nothing more than the impulses in his brain. He had, instinctively, sat himself down next to June by sheer force of habit. His eyes occasionally shifted in her direction before another thought would draw his eyes back to the projected diagrams he was working on.

The only thing that drew his vision away was sudden movement. Myla was back on her feet, much to Jim’s annoyance. The simulation wasn’t over, as the projected rooftop was still visible for a moment. Though, the safeword and powering down of the sim as Myla stomped her way down to the door into the chamber made it clear that something was going down. He wasn’t expecting a fist fight, though. The projected diagrams shifted away as Jim was left watching on in horror as Theo got in between Ronnie and Myla. It was clear from the scowl on Jim’s face and the tension in his shoulders that he was not happy that Phil’s idiotic lesson had devolved into a front row seat of Jerry Springer.

"Well… what a wonderful use of our time." The biting remark was muttered under his breath, an impulse he could not control. He turned his gaze back towards June, removing his glasses as he caught another glimpse of June’s side. "You…" He paused, several thoughts and feelings crossing over his face at the reminder of June’s injury. "We should get your stitches fixed. Again."

"It was…" she paused, eyes bright and alert, but June didn’t move to break up the fight. There were enough people that were a lot stronger and less injured than her that could qualify as the middleman in this scenario. Not that she could totally blame Myla, if Veronica had kissed Jim…her head tilted to the side, lips pursed. Well, she wouldn’t have punched her in front of everyone else. "Unique."

The word was said with an air of sarcasm and vague distaste, the training was about as unique as a gunshot wound. Really, what it was though, was informative. "We have a lot of work to do, team formations, and battle plans, and cont—" June paused, gaze sliding from where she’d been looking blankly into open air, contemplating her mental to-do list, to where Luke and Ronnie were leaving. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, before standing with great care to not grimace at the pain, hand slipping into her pocket before she deliberately leaned nice and close to Jim.

"Give me a moment, and then I’ll go anywhere you want if," warm lips brushed over the shell of his ear, and he could feel how they coiled up into a small, secretive sort of smile. "You help me with my plans, I need that brilliant brain of yours." June straightened out, twisting around before he could reply to slip back into the training room. It was the optimal time to do it, with everyone else distracted by the scuffle.

Jim’s flat expression stood in sharp contrast to the slight blush in his cheeks at June’s compliment. He turned his gaze away, letting her slip off with ease as he stood stalwart with his arms folded over his chest. He slowly walked over towards the entrance to the training room, leaning against the wall as he let June do her thing. He tilted his head to the side, calling back towards her. "You’re going under the machine this time, June. I don’t want you bleeding in my workshop, the roomba doesn’t clean it right."

June moved like a shadow, every motion deliberate. She didn’t rush, she never rushed, because rushing drew eyes, and eyes drew questions. The moment the others had drifted away or into their little clusters of damage control and gossip, she’d slipped between them with practiced ease, her footsteps muffled against the sterile concrete.

The air in the training room still stank faintly of ozone and blood, despite having moved rooms between Magni’s training. Captain America’s golden boy had spit a bit of his blood onto the floor during his own training. Not that anyone had noticed. No one ever noticed the small, quiet things when there was drama happening front and center. She crouched by the faint smear on the floor, pulling a small sterile swab from a packet in her pocket, and the small metal square she’d been fiddling with earlier from her other pocket. It wasn’t her first sample, and it wouldn’t be the last. She’d collected from others, coffee cups left out, half eaten food. A strand here, a fragment there. She told herself it wasn’t paranoia, it was preparedness. Bruce had taught her that every good detective followed the data.

And the data was messy right now. Too messy.

Her father was missing. Jim’s and Imogen’s were, too. So were half the world’s defenders, all vanished in a perfectly orchestrated sweep that had left the world’s mightiest children fumbling through the ruins like kids playing at war. The timing was too neat. The power vacuum too… intentional. Someone was still playing the game, and through it all a single fact stood out to her like a beacon.

Why hadn’t Captain America, one of the world’s mightiest heroes, been targeted? It felt too convenient, but she wouldn’t give voice to those thoughts and speculations just yet. They were meant to be a team now, afterall. It wouldn’t be good for doubt and suspicion to be so openly cast amongst each other.

June capped the sample and slipped it back into her pocket. She clicked her tongue, her smirk fading. She knew what her next hour was resigned to. "I hate them," she muttered under her breath as she slipped back to Jim’s side casually, as if she’d been there the whole time. "But fine, I’ll let the damned robots fix me, ready to go?"

Jim nodded, shoving his hands into his pant pockets and letting his shoulders hunch slightly as he stepped towards the elevator. "I know," he mused, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he adopted his usual sarcastic tone. "But it would feel like a waste of money to fly you out to a good surgeon, and a robot won't ask you why you were shot." Almost subconsciously, he pulled the hand closest to June out from his pocket and let it hang loosely at his side as they walked towards the elevator. He didn't need to even press the button, as a simple look at the panel seemed to be enough for HELEN to call the elevator for him. He knew better than to ask what exactly she was up to until they were somewhere more secure. In the meantime, she would have to put up with his snark. "Or… you know… dodge next time."

June watched the elevator doors slide shut with a sound like a blade slipping into its sheath. The hum of the machinery filled the silence, low and mechanical, steady, predictable. “You say that like I enjoy getting shot,” she snorted, glancing sideways at him. Jim always looked like he was thinking in blueprints, precise, layered, and a little lonely. He wore his sarcasm like armor; she recognized it because she did the same. The elevator shuddered gently as it ascended, soft and subtle. June shifted her weight, one hand sliding instinctively to curl around his own instead of the knife that was slipped into her sweatpants, the one she’d pretended she hadn’t brought to training. The habit was one she couldn’t unlearn, not when paranoia was the closest thing she had to comfort these days.

Her mind flickered back to the training room, to the sound of fists and shouting, to the way people’s tempers had frayed like old rope. Teams cracked from the inside long before they fell in battle. Her dad used to say that.

“I have so much to do. Team formations, contingency plans, and… something else. I want to show you what I’ve been working on,” she said, voice steady, clipped. Her free hand brushed her pocket, the blood sample, the secrets she wasn’t ready to voice yet. "You might think I’m paranoid," she murmured, half to herself, voice so soft he’d struggle to hear her. "But something isn’t adding up, I just can’t put my finger on it yet." She didn’t look at him when she said it, but she knew he’d hear the weight under the words, the suspicion that didn’t dare take shape yet.

Everyone had secrets. She was just the only one cataloguing them.

Jim shrugged, his gaze unfocused as he was lost in thought. He knew at this point to trust June’s instincts. Something was definitely wrong, and their enemies seemed to know a lot more about the most powerful heroes in existence than Jim did about whoever was taking them. His sarcastic quip was distant, more a gut instinct. "Really? I thought we were all here just for a vacation."

The elevator dinged, and the infirmary’s sterile glow bled into the small space. The scent of antiseptic stung her nose, bright and clean and utterly false. June exhaled, a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a laugh, before she moved toward one of the beds lazily, dragging her feet as if she could delay the inevitable.

"New patient identified. Please state name," The sound of the robotic voice filled the clinic, and she let out another sigh, repeating her name for the damned thing so it could begin its diagnostic scan.

---

As the elevator doors swung open to Jim’s workshop, the mess was a clear sign that he had been busy between the prior night and training. Power tools and welding equipment was haphazardly scattered on a large toolbox in the center of the work area. Two hydraulic robotic arms were putting the finishing touches on welding and airbrushing the Vanguard armor near the far wall, fixing up small dings and scratches from the night prior. A 3D printer in the corner was busy printing some kind of bowl-shaped device. On every other surface, various tools and scraps of metal and material were scattered with a meaning only Jim could parse out.

"I… haven’t had a chance to clean up." A little color blushed Jim’s cheeks as he stepped in, shoving his hands into his pockets. He briskly moved into the space, stepping around the mess to quickly take a look at the projects he had in development. With a small nod at each project, he eventually looked back in June’s direction. He rolled out a couple stools from under one of his worktables. "So… want to fill me in on your current paranoid fantasy."

June didn’t sit right away. She hovered in the doorway of Jim’s workshop like someone standing on the lip of a cliff, deciding how far she was willing to jump. The scent of metal and solder hit her first— warm, sharp, oddly comforting. Jim’s chaos looked like madness to anyone else, but she could read it like scripture, every misplaced tool a breadcrumb, every half-finished prototype a puzzle piece. It made her feel… steady. In control.

Or as close to control as she’d gotten in weeks. She exhaled once, slow, bracing, then stepped into the room and glanced up toward the ceiling out of reflex. “J.A.R.V.I.S.,” she said, calm but clipped, “Please pull up my safeguard protocol. Full display.”

The lights in the workshop dimmed automatically as the AI did as instructed. A soft hum vibrated through the air, and then, with a low, blooming shimmer, holographic blueprints burst into existence around them. Twelve designs of three-dimensional bracelets spun slowly in the air, each one annotated with layered diagrams, embedded circuitry, and neat, highlighted functions. June stepped closer to Jim, who had the pleasure of being seated in the center of it all, hands folding behind her back in a posture she’d learned from her father, old Wayne habits, detective habits, the kind meant to hide how tightly she was gripping her own knuckles.

The bracelets rotated, casting cold azure light across her face.

“Tracking nodes,” she said, tapping her finger through one diagram, thin metal bending into shape around a wrist. “Seamless SOS triggers. Identity verification. Environmental hazard alerts. All standard.” But then she flicked her wrist, and the projections changed, inner layers of the devices peeling back to reveal additional features.

Failsafes.

Not for all of them.

Just… some.

June’s jaw flexed; not a reaction, just acknowledgment.

“And before you start,” she said quietly, glancing at Jim’s silhouette framed by cool blue light in the dark lab, “I didn’t put any hard contingencies into yours. Or Imogen’s.” Or Magni’s, but that required more explanation to Jim than she felt she had to spare in this exact moment, what was most important was explaining why she had paranoid fantasies, as he so lovingly phrased it.

Her voice remained steady, clinical, but the truth under it was softer. More dangerous. “You two are known variables. Predictable. Loyal. Stable. And… I trust you.” Her gaze flicked toward him, just for a heartbeat, soft and open. She shifted her attention back to the projections before the moment could deepen into something he wouldn’t know how to handle.

The bracelets reassembled themselves in a slow rotation—names appearing beside them one by one.

Luke.
Ronnie.
Zaira.
James.
Tobias.
Jules.

June’s eyes narrowed, not in malice, just calculation. “These six,” she said, voice quiet but razor-sharp, “Are unknown.” She gestured at Luke’s schematic first, the faintest downturn of her mouth there. “Captain America’s son— and yet his father wasn’t taken. Him more than anyone… I don’t know, those scars on his back, there’s just something about him that sets me on edge. That’s why I got this,” she pulled out the little metal square from her pocket, holding it up for Jim’s gaze. “I want to create a…sedative. It would have to be unique to the super-soldier though, strong enough to actually work.”

She let the bracelets continue spinning, her expression unreadable in the electric blue glow. “I’m not trying to punish anyone,” June said, softer now, “I’m trying to keep us alive long enough to find our parents. Whoever took them knew exactly what they were doing. They were precise. Surgical. I…I need to be, too.” Her eyes tracked the holograms like a chessboard, a battlefield mapped in steel and suspicion. “And I’m not giving whoever’s behind this a free advantage because I was too sentimental to plan for the worst.”

June finally sank onto one of the stools Jim had rolled out, posture rigid but her eyes, just for a moment, betraying how tired she was. It felt like the weight of their world was balanced upon her shoulders, like she’d turned into Atlas when no one was looking, and she’d clearly been working on all of this long before she finally brought it to Jim. She looked at him fully then, chin lifting slightly. “So,” she said, voice low, “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me this is too much. Or help me make it better.”

Jim sat like a pensive and cautious gargoyle, his eyes studying the floating projections while occasionally shifting to follow June's movements. He didn't seem shocked, nor angry, nor even impressed. When June had finished her presentation, one that he presumed she had rehearsed in her head ad nauseum, he simply folded his arms and slouched a little. His eyebrows knit together as his face scrunched up a little while he observed the schematics. He clicked his tongue absent-mindedly as he seemed lost in thought for a moment.

When the moment passed, Jim stood up. His posture was oddly rigid as he held his left hand behind his back. He approached one of the bracelets, his right hand twisting and swiping to get a more detailed look at the inner workings. A prolonged sigh escaped his lips as he seemed to scrutinize the design layer by layer, the clicking of his tongue intensifying with each layer. When he was finished, the clicking suddenly halted. The air had been sucked out of the room, the only sounds being the general electric hum and the faint sound of brushes against concrete flooring from the vacuum robot.

"Pharmaceuticals are your domain, I wouldn't be much help there." His tone was serious, borderline instructive. He stood taller than usual, his words flowing like their own pre-rehearsed lecture. He wasn't the showman his father was, but he knew how to break words down into steps when he needed to. "There are a few redundancies in the circuitry. The hinge is too flimsy, and we would need to alter the metallic composition for each person based on their strengths. I can rework my biometric monitoring device to simplify the identity verification and encrypt the vitals readout to HELEN for automated analysis."

Jim paused, turning on his heels to face June. The faintest trace of a smile ghosted the corners of his lips. "Current design gets a B. Had to deduct points for energy inefficiency and the lack of flair, though I am surprised you didn't put a bat logo on them for brand recognition." His tone had softened to his regular biting banter, taking a small breath as he took a step in her direction. A glimpse of worry crossed his face for a moment, as if reconsidering his support. It was washed away with a harder look of determination. "I think it's the right move, the only problem is convincing them to wear it. Especially if any of the ‘wildcards’ are playing for the other team."

June let the silence settle around them like dust in a cathedral, soft, weightless, sacred. His answer wasn’t loud or dramatic, but it hit her with the force of oxygen in drowning lungs. She watched him move through the holograms with that mechanical focus only a Stark could manage, deconstructing her work not to dismantle it, but to strengthen it. The relief that unfurled in her chest was quiet and perilous, a warmth she hadn’t felt since before the disappearances, before the world had become nothing but empty signals and unanswered calls. For weeks she had been a taut wire stretched over a chasm, and now, hearing him say I think it’s the right move, she felt that wire slacken just enough to let her breathe.

She looked at him fully then, really looking at the rigid line of his shoulders, the sharp brilliance behind his sarcasm, the faint ghost of a smile that tried and failed to disguise concern. Something surged up in her like a tidal pull, an urge to close the distance, to touch her forehead to his or to kiss him just once in gratitude or awe or something dangerously adjacent to trust. But June Wayne was carved out of restraint…most of the time, and she’d been raised on self-control the way other kids were raised on lullabies. So she held still, instead of giving in like the night before. She only let the smallest, softest smile lift the corner of her mouth. “Thank you,” she murmured, not flippant or clever, but earnest, raw in a way she almost never allowed herself to be. The words felt like standing without armor, and she hoped he understood how rare that offering was.

Then she straightened, spine lengthening with purpose, eyes returning to the spinning bracelets like planets caught in orbit. “As for convincing them to wear it,” she said, tone smoothing back into steel, “I have a plan.” Her fingers brushed against the hologram, mind already racing ahead. “We present them as standard mission tech, uniform equipment. Non-negotiable. Something designed for team cohesion, comms, and emergency coordination. I’m going to have Alfred and Coulson bring it to them, not us. It’ll go over better that way.” Her eyes flickered, razor-sharp and certain. “All we need is the right framing. People don’t question safeguards when they believe they’re the ones being protected.” She exhaled once, steady now. “They’ll put them on. Every single one. If they take them off, we’ll know, but we’ll tell them we understand, that it’s okay to take it off, especially in the tower. We just have to frame it right.” It was a gamble, she knew that, but it was all they had right now.

Jim folded his arms, letting out a prolonged soft whistle of an exhale as he considered her words. He was not as averse to change and problematic variables, but they were dealing with a level of uncertainty that made even a Stark blush. Not everyone seemed particularly keen on rule following in his estimation, and with fellow geniuses like Theo walking around… odds were not particularly in their favor. That is, unless they stacked the deck.

"We need to bring Parker in on this." The words tasted like bile in his mouth, taking in a sharp breath as he spoke. "My father spoke of Spider-Man like he was the messiah. Smart, loyal, honorable. Out of everyone here… Theo is the closest by blood. The whole blowup with Veronica makes him sympathetic. And no offense… Tony and the Bat weren't exactly known for being transparent. But a friendly neighborhood spider-kid?"

Jim shrugged his shoulders, letting out a little bit more air as he turned his gaze towards June. He could already anticipate at least one of her concerns, lifting his hands up to shrink down all but the basic bracelet designs that lacked contingencies. "We show him the untampered models, get his input and design, slap a little spider-symbol on it, and get him to help sell it… in the hopes that even a mole wouldn't be able to say no to him."

June’s first instinct was resistance— quiet, controlled, but sharp enough to cut. Her brows pulled together as she stared down at her hands, thumbs brushing absently over her knuckles. Bringing Theo in meant widening the circle. Widening the circle meant risk. Her mind spun through the probabilities with mechanical precision: Theo’s loyalties (unstable but earnest), his emotional volatility (high), his moral compass (strong, inconveniently so), and his intelligence (dangerously underappreciated). If he sensed even a fraction of what the bracelets truly were, he would ask questions, good ones. The kind she’d have to either lie to or dodge.

She could already feel the headache that would come with trying to dance around a problem-solving prodigy with spider-sense and grief sharpening every one of his instincts. Her teeth pressed into her bottom lip as she ran through every potential fault line. There were many. Too many.

But then she breathed, slow and deliberate, and sifted those faults for what they truly were— fear. Not of Theo. Not even of betrayal. Fear of losing control, of letting someone see the fragile architecture of her plans before they were perfect. Before she was perfect. Jim’s reasoning spun itself through her thoughts like thread drawn through a needle, stitching holes she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. Theo was the most trusted among them, the least compromised, the least connected to the suspicious variables she was tracking. People believed him the way they never would her. And the group needed someone like that, a pressure valve instead of a fuse. They needed the spider-kid because he was, infuriatingly, exactly what she and Jim were not: openly good.

June lifted her gaze at last, the frown still ghosting her mouth but softened now, tempered by reluctant logic. “You’re right,” she admitted quietly, the words tasting like surrender and steel all at once. “He’s the best chance we have at making this look clean, especially if anyone is playing for the other team.” She drew in a slow breath, straightening again, shoulders settling back into their familiar, precise alignment.

“Theo’s trusted. He’s harmless to them. They won’t question him the way they’d question us.” Her fingers brushed the projection, collapsing the two remaining bracelet models into a neat alignment of light. “He’s also smart. It’s risky letting him that close to the design… but not doing it would be riskier.” Her eyes swept up to Jim’s, something resolute sparking behind them. “So yes. We bring him in. Carefully. On our terms.” She paused, voice softening to something more human and less soldier. “It’s a good call, Jim.”

Jim raised an eyebrow, stunned a bit by June’s words. The more she spoke, the more his brows furrowed as he tried to read her words. It was always a chore trying to understand something as nebulous as feelings or body language. It was only a pseudo-science baked up by ineffectual debutantes to try and drum up purpose for psychologists to justify their careers, as he once argued in a required course to a chorus of groans when getting his bachelors. His prickly nature always had a way of biting him in the ass when it mattered, though, and he was far too stubborn and lacked the self-awareness to parse those consequences properly.

However, Jim was able to glean the obvious from June’s words: she was agreeing with him. That revelation by itself was evidence of how grave June truly estimated the situation. He could see that she was working out the calculations, but even he was surprised at how quickly she acquiesced. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though he would happily taunt one. "Really?" His question carried a bemused tone, a rhetorical setup to his inevitable barb. "Trusting someone other than yourself… Behavior like that is a point in favor of my doppelgänger theory."

For a fraction of a heartbeat, June let the razor-edge of her gaze dull, the usual steel of her calculation melting into something warmer, more human. Her eyes lingered on Jim, tracing the angular lines of his jaw, the furrowed concentration of a mind perpetually moving ten steps ahead of everyone else. There was a pause, almost imperceptible, where the room seemed to hush around them— the hum of machinery, the faint buzz of the projector, even the air itself holding its breath. In that moment, June’s features softened, the tension that had been a permanent fixture around her eyes and lips loosening just enough to reveal a fragment of the person beneath the armor. It wasn’t a smile, not yet, it was something subtler, a quiet acknowledgment, a gentle surrender of pretense.

She finally sat, hands folded in her lap, the faintest exhalation escaping her lips like a sigh caught halfway between thought and confession. “Jim,” she murmured, her voice low, almost reverential in its honesty, “I trust you more than anyone.” The words were deliberate, measured, heavy with the weight of meaning that wasn’t thrown around lightly. “That’s why I answered your call, instead of going after Thomas alone.”

Her lips parted slightly as she exhaled again, allowing herself a fraction of the trust she usually reserved for plans and contingencies. The room seemed to shrink around them, her voice soft and steady against the mechanical backdrop, carrying an intimacy that her words rarely permitted. “I came here because…it was you. I didn’t come for your inventions, or your machines, or even your smarts,” she said, letting a small, almost imperceptible warmth flicker in her eyes, “I trust you. So I threw out my plans, and I’m working with a team.” She let that sit between them, a silent gravity, a fragile acknowledgment that their partnership was not just tactical— it was personal, and in the way June allowed herself to feel, it was profound.

Jim’s cheeks brightened at June’s response, her intimate admissions eliciting a moment of bashful confusion on his part. It was becoming more painfully clear by the minute over the past day just how deep her affections for him had run, but each revelation simply left him all the more baffled on how to navigate such uncharted territory. More than that, feelings compromised the mission. Keeping a level head was the best way forward, as it was the only way that they would be able to succeed where their predecessors had failed. The last thing he needed to think about was that morning: The way her hands had pressed him against the wall, the look in her eyes, the feeling of her lips against–

Focus.

Jim needed to descalate and refocus. "Yeah… a team." The words felt like sand in his mouth, pouring out like an hourglass. "I… I get it. I trust you, ever since you kept quiet when we were kids." The ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips as he recalled that board meeting they met well over a decade ago, when his hands were elbow deep disassembling some computers. Everything was much simpler then. The mirth faded as Jim’s eyes shifted over towards the elevator, and his heartrate quickened. "I… do think we have different definitions for working with a team than they do." A nervous smile barely concealed the ever-burning anxiety in his chest. "I don’t think the lovebirds or the lumbering Shakespeare performer are clever enough to put a ‘contingency’ plan like this together.."

June’s mouth curved despite herself, a small, genuine smile breaking through the tension at his attempt to paper over something fragile with humor. It lingered for a moment— warm, fond, before she breathed out slowly and let her shoulders sag. Just a little. Enough that the truth slipped through. The weight she’d been carrying finally showed, the tightness at the corners of her eyes, the faint tremor in the hand she braced against her thigh, the way her posture softened as if gravity had finally remembered her name. For the first time since all of this had begun, June looked tired, not strategically tired, not tactically drained, but bone-deep exhausted in the way only responsibility could hollow a person out. The kind that came from being awake too long, thinking too hard, holding too many lives in your hands with no margin for error.

“I don’t disagree,” she said quietly, her voice gentler now, worn thin at the edges. “We do have very different definitions of teamwork.” Her gaze drifted to the hovering bracelets, then beyond them, as if she could see the others through walls and steel. “I’m not even sure I’d consider all of us an honest team, yet. I would have been happy with just you and Imogen, but… I think everyone’s trying. In their own way. Everyone has feelings about this, ideas, fears, instincts. We’re just smarter about it than half of them, but they still have uses.” Her lips pressed together, thoughtful.

She paused, fingers curling loosely, then sighed. “Myla and Theo, for example. They’ve put in more groundwork than I have, boots on the ground, ugly situations, real chaos. I hate admitting it, but their city is on its way to being as bad as Gotham.” A rueful huff escaped her. “But if there’d been more than one assailant back there? I’m not sure I would’ve come out of it like Myla did. She held her ground until help got there.” Her eyes lifted back to Jim, honest despite her reluctance. “Theo too. He sees people in ways I don’t. That has to matter, right?”

Her gaze shifted again, this time thoughtful rather than doubtful. “And Magni’s battle expertise is going to be essential, whether I like it or not. Strategy only gets you so far without someone who knows how to hold a line when everything goes wrong.” A faint, tired smile ghosted her mouth. “It’s good to have a tank. Even better to have one who wants to protect people, and enjoys it.”

She hesitated then, just a beat too long, before adding, uncertainly, “That said… if I could trade Luke or Ronnie for a second pair of lovebirds or another wandering Shakespeare enthusiast?” She glanced away, exhaustion winning out over diplomacy. “I would. In a heartbeat. They bring too much strife to the team.”

Jim's anxious expression softened the more June mused on the team. He hadn't paid as much attention to the training rounds as he should have, opting instead to continue his usual work instead. June, always the strategist, had clearly taken mental notes of their combat prowess. In his defense, this wasn't his wheelhouse. People were always a blind spot, instead preferring things that he could engineer with a precision that left little room for error. He had trained a bit, but always just in case he was attacked for being the son of Iron Man. He was simply the man in the chair, but even June seemed better suited for that than him. Of course, she did have one blindspot. "I meant that their definition of team doesn't include a specialized neurotoxin and tasers if they step out of line."

What he did know of June far too well, as his own body felt like it was deteriorating with each passing minute, was how exhausted she was. He could feel his blood pressure rise as he thought about how she had passed out the night before, exacerbated by their intimate moment. He knew they had work to do, but June's designs were fairly complete. His eyes shifted back to the projections, lifting his hands to begin sliding all the designs out again and making adjustments with a rapid speed. "I can have H.E.L.E.N. print a prototype based on our schematics… make sure it's functional and test its form factor."

Jim paused, his eyes shifting over to the various machines. A functional prototype would still take time to manufacture and develop molds for, even with high-end equipment. While they certainly had work to do, he knew that rest would serve them well. He was beyond running on fumes, more idling than anything. He waved his arms over towards the corner of the room, where a set of stairs led to an elevated portion that ultimately served as a bedroom (despite Imogen's protests). "I've got a bed in the loft if we want to..." The statement hung there, his words fading out as his brain struggled to find the right word. Sleep evaded him, rest felt incomplete. Nap felt almost juvenile of a term. Other synonyms were just out of his reach. So, he left the obvious implication dangling.

June read the offer in the spaces between his words, in the way his hands never quite stilled, in the way his voice softened without him meaning it to, in the careful distance he kept even as concern bled through every sentence. For all his brilliance, Jim had never been good at asking for things outright, especially not things that weren’t mechanical or measurable. Rest was neither. Neither was wanting someone to stay. And yet, there it was, hovering between them like an open door he was pretending not to look at.

She took a slow step toward him, the hum of the workshop fading into the background as her focus narrowed. Up close, she could see the signs he tried to ignore in himself, the tension locked in his shoulders, the faint pallor beneath the workshop lights, the way his breath hitched just slightly when he paused. Time was precious. Every second mattered. But June knew, with the hard-earned certainty of someone who had pushed herself past the breaking point too many times, that a strategist running on exhaustion was just another liability. And she couldn’t afford to be one. Not for the team. Not for him.

Her hand slid gently along his shoulder, warm and grounding, her thumb brushing the seam of his shirt as she leaned in just enough for her forehead to nearly touch his chest. It wasn’t dramatic, just intimate, deliberate, real. A small, tired smile curved her lips, soft with something dangerously close to tenderness. “Yeah,” she murmured, voice low, affectionate, carrying a quiet promise rather than urgency. “I think… we should.” Her gaze flicked briefly toward the stairs, then back to him, eyes steady and fond. “We’ll be better for it.” A beat, then softer still, meant only for him. “And I don’t want you burning out any more than I already am.”

She stayed there for a moment longer than strictly necessary, drawing strength from the closeness before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. The world could wait an hour or four. Maybe six, if Jim was persistent enough. Strategy required clarity, and clarity required rest. “Let’s make use of the bed,” she added gently, that coy warmth lingering in her tone.

Jim flinched slightly from June's touch, and he froze as she leaned into him fully. Personal space had always been important to him, especially given the number of powered or otherwise combative individuals that Stark's seemed to know quite well. Even with some walls laid bare that morning and the night before, Jim could not help but recoil only slightly from his old friend… even if he was somewhat partial to the complications that were arising from their entanglement.

A day earlier, Jim would have balked at the suggestion of sharing a bed with anyone. At this stage of exhaustion, with his edges frayed and his emotions far more turbulent than he was used to, he didn't care. He needed rest, June needed rest, and he knew that the proximity would help him ensure she actually slept instead of continuing to work. For reasons he couldn't fully identify, her health meant more than his routines and comforts. Teamwork was the only word he could attribute to such an impulse, even if it felt sterile for such a confusing situation.

Jim lifted his hands to gently ease June off of him, turning his body more fully towards the stairs. "Leave your shoes down here, I don't want to track oil up there." His instructions were delivered with the same flat tone he had any time they had interacted in their youth. He quietly crossed the lab while snapping his fingers. The overhead lights began to dim as metal shades drew low. Small lights illuminated the floor only, angled down to aid in stepping over tools and projects. At the bottom of the stairs rested a single metal chair and a plastic mat. Jim quietly settled himself into the chair, taking his time to remove his shoes and setting them to the side of the tray. Each movement grew a little less refined, his head dipping down a little farther than expected as he moved to stand.

June stilled like a photograph mid-exposure, caught on the cusp of warmth and its undoing. The moment Jim recoiled, something in her muscles went rigid, a breath caged just behind her ribs. Confusion flickered first, quick, startled, delicate as a candle guttering in draft, but the hurt that followed was quieter, heavier, sinking like a stone into water. It did not show on her face. She smoothed herself out with a precision that belonged to strategies and maps, not bruised feelings; every expression flattened, every softness pulled back into the vault where she’d once sworn nothing personal would ever be allowed to bloom again. The ghost of her smile vanished like morning frost.

Her throat worked once, a swallow that tasted like iron and restraint. A seed of doubt threaded itself through her— small, insidious, the kind that roots in the fault lines of hope; misread, misstep, miscalculated. The touch she’d offered had been a promise, but maybe she’d been the only one who…wanted that. Maybe the ground they’d been inching across wasn’t neutral territory at all, but a minefield, and she’d just learned where not to step. She didn’t ask him why. She didn’t say anything at all. Her silence felt like a blade with the edge turned inward.

June moved on instinct, mechanical, obedient, like a soldier responding to a command. She stepped away, every motion stripped of its earlier ease, and knelt to unlace her boots. The laces felt rough against her fingertips, the knots snagging like each one was a tether she hadn’t realized she’d tied. She set the boots neatly to the side, aligned with quiet precision, standing again without looking at him. Her posture was immaculate, straight as a ruler, but there was a soft collapse in her shoulders, subtle enough that only someone who had studied her for years would see it, the first visible crack in her discipline.

She waited beside the stairs, hands deliberately loose at her sides, gaze fixed upward but unfocused, like she was looking straight through the metal steps into some other version of herself that hadn’t let feelings complicate anything. When Jim turned, she followed at a respectful distance; not so close as before, not brushing against his gravity, but orbiting him like someone relearning trajectory. Every step was deliberate, careful, as if even the air might shatter if she trespassed too close again.

The quiet, which would normally provide some sort of comfort to Jim, crept up his spine like a chill instead. He felt his stomach twist in that way he never quite understood, like he had made some kind of mistake again. He focused on taking one step up at a time, leading her towards a completely different scene. While the workshop as a whole was an unorganized maelstrom, the loft was militaristically tidy. The bed was carefully made, its sheets and comforter folded perfectly. There were no errant articles of clothing, all having been placed into a chute in the wall where some unseen machine could sort the dirty clothes by color. Panels in the walls grew transparent to reveal a hidden wardrobe of similarly styled sweaters, shirts, and slacks. Jim had slipped into a pair of slippers at the top of the stairs, and not a speck of dust seemed to rest on any surface.

Jim motioned towards the single door connected to the loft. "Bathroom if you need it." He paused, his eyes widening with shock for a moment as his thoughts drifted once more. They did not sway long, as he turned back to face June. She looked… detached, distant in a way that felt… different. It took a moment of careful studying to parse that there was something about her posture that felt less Wayne. Jim's mind raced, his eyes shifting to her side and the raised fabric where stitches and gauze helped keep her wounds in check. His demeanor shifted in an instant, almost instinctively matching the sort of tone and concern his half-sister often showed. "Do you need anything? Water, shower… How are your stitches?" He took a step closer, his brows knitted in careful observance.

June blinked at him, thrown off balance by the sharp pivot— how his voice, mere minutes ago distant as a locked vault, now reached for her like an open hand. The confusion pooled behind her ribs like seawater trying to rise; she felt it crest, then ebb out in a tired breath. She couldn’t tell which Jim was real, the one who recoiled, the one who asked her to share his bed, the one who looked at her now as though she were something breakable. Each version pulled at her in a different direction, and all of them hurt in ways she did not have the energy left to chart. Her exhaustion pressed into her bones, heavy and unrelenting. It softened her posture, made her edges blur. She shook her head slowly, strands of hair shifting like loose threads unraveling.

“No… I’m okay,” she murmured, voice low, frayed. “I’ll just shower. And then sleep. We need the rest.” The words felt like triage, functional and necessary, but nothing in her felt functional anymore.

She tried to summon a smile— small, tentative, a delicate thing that hovered at the edge of her mouth like a bird debating flight. It carried apology and hope in equal measure, weighted with the aching uncertainty that he wouldn’t return it, or worse, wouldn’t know what to do with it. Still, she offered it anyway, like laying down her final weapon for the night.

Then, without waiting for his reaction, she stepped past him. The soft whisper of her movements cut the silence like a seam being stitched closed. Her hand found the bathroom door; she slipped inside and shut it with a careful click, muffling the world, and him, on the other side.

Jim stood awkwardly as June slipped by him, her curt response and attempt at a smile the only acknowledgement of his words. He followed her with his eyes as she slipped into the bathroom, leaving him in the space that felt suddenly hollow with her absence. He could still hear the faint sounds of machinery below working on printing and assembling their prototype. That sound was usually a reassurance, a dull thrum of progress that lulled him to sleep. Now, it just reminded him of how little he was contributing.

Jim stepped towards the wall, undoing the buttons on the sweater one at a time in a simple rhythm. His movements were almost robotic in their own way, a simple process he had done countless times. His mind turned to their work… or, more accurately, her work. June had the plans, the contingencies, the means of convincing the others. Jim's focus had been too limiting in scope. He still had some of his father's schematics that he was busy working into his suit. Automated thermal imaging to avoid getting tricked by anyone invisible or falling for illusions, infrared sensors to check for speedsters, and even plans for a larger exo-suit to deal with heavy hitters like their resident god. Jim was so focused on the threat outside the tower he hadn't even thought to prepare for the very real potential threats in their company outside of hoping his untested suit of armor would stop them for him.

He was glad he called June. He was glad he called Imogen. As much as people like Myla pissed him off, the devil's daughter had a determination he lacked. He didn't want to bring Theo in just as a pawn, he wanted someone else on their level to help solve this "problem" they all faced. Having Imogen there, as much as she knew how to get under his skin, was reassuring in a time where everything felt overwhelming. It was hard to admit, but Jim was woefully unprepared for this mission. A team was their best bet, even if it was compromised.

Jim removed his outer garments one by one. He tossed each article of clothing into a hamper in the wall, where the small sounds of whirring were the only signs that the dirty clothes were getting sorted into the appropriate hampers out of view. Left in only his underwear, he felt a warmth flood his cheeks as he quickly looked towards the bathroom door to ensure it was closed. Instead of a sigh of relief, the tension in his core remained. She had already seen him naked, but the embarrassment still remained with the heat of the moment removed. His pulse quickened as his thoughts crescendoed. What was this? Why had he invited her to sleep here? Her own room, her own shower, it would all certainly be more comfortable. Why did she stay? Why was she quiet? Why did she ask to kiss? Why him? What did any of this mean?

He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore, sighing as he quickly tapped a panel on the wall to reveal a drawer filled with neatly folded pajamas. They were red in color, and were softer than his usual clothes. He quickly put on the shirt and the pants, shuffling towards the bed. He hesitated next to it, his mind playing through the day’s events. His mind shifted to the car, the awkward silence that filled the space on their drive in towards the Tower. Something was off, something he couldn’t quite place. Jim took a breath, slowly lowering himself to the edge of the bed as he waited silently.

June moved through the bathroom like a ghost of herself, all muscle memory and no momentum. Her hands folded her discarded clothes with practiced precision on the counter, shirt, pants, socks, each piece a small ritual of control, before she stepped beneath the spray. The water struck her skin in steady percussion, warm enough to soothe, not warm enough to melt the tension coiled through her. She watched the rivulets gather at her ankles and disappear into the drain, as if the day could follow.

Her mind lagged behind her body, like she’d slipped a fraction of a second out of sync. The exhaustion wasn’t just in her bones; it lived behind her eyes, heavy and stubborn, a fog threaded between her ribs. It made her feel muted, like she was speaking from behind glass even when she said nothing at all. She knew the feeling, burnout that arrived like a ghost-light, soft and flickering at the edges, warning her she’d pushed too far.

So she showered like she would reload a weapon. Not tender, not luxuriating. Just necessity

Jim’s soaps were… utilitarian. Unscented or nearly so at first glance, but the steam breathed mint and eucalyptus into the air, something fresh enough to sting at the edges of her lungs. Sea salt rode underneath, a brine that reminded her of waves breaking against cliffs in Gotham winters, cold and sharp and honest. Something Alfred would buy, she thought— practical, dignified, with an edge of care. Her fingers hovered over the fourth bottle. De-greasing soap. Industrial strength. Stark Industries branded in tiny print.

June’s mouth softened into a real smile, small, helplessly fond, blooming warm at the center of her chest. She imagined him scrubbing at engine oil on his forearms, shoulders tense, jaw set in concentration. She could see it like a memory even though she hadn’t been there. Something about it felt… private. Humanizing. It nudged the corners of her heart into something tender, even through the exhaustion. She rinsed, shut off the water, and stepped out. The cold air hit her and she realized, too late, that she hadn’t brought anything to wear.

The towel clung to her skin, tucked securely beneath her arm, and she dried her hair with the other. When she looked in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. Eyes dulled, shoulders dropped, cheeks flushed from heat and fatigue. She blinked once, as if she could reanimate from within, but the reflection didn’t change. Sleep will help, she reminded herself, quiet and certain. It had to.

She gathered what courage remained, frayed and tentative, and padded to the door. Her fingers hesitated on the knob before she cracked it open. Cool air slipped in around her calves. Jim sat on the edge of the bed across the room, red pajamas softening the sharp lines of him, waiting.

Her voice came out low, careful, like testing the floor before stepping onto thin ice. “Jim…?” A pause, her throat working. Eyes not quite meeting his.
“I—” She gestured slightly to herself, towel and bare skin and steam trailing after her. “I didn’t bring anything to sleep in. Do you… have something I could wear?”

The request felt strangely vulnerable, like stepping out of armor. Her heart fluttered unevenly. She didn’t step farther into the room, just lingered in the doorway, haloed in steam, waiting, just like he had been.

Jim’s eyes had locked onto the bathroom door from their unfocused state the second it opened. He froze, his eyes rapidly shifting from taking in the sight of June in the towel to some invisible point on the wall. He had already seen what was under the towel, but hormones and his general demeanor left him feeling an undeserved embarrassment. Her tone, her voice… it wasn’t the usual way she spoke. Color flushed his cheeks, and his brain ground to a halt.

After an awkward moment, Jim nodded a little too hurriedly. "Right… Uhhh… yes." He quickly rose to his feet, his eyes a little wide with a mixture of surprise and an anxious energy. He crossed over towards the wall, clicking his tongue as the fogged glass panels grew clear to reveal his wardrobe. He looked down towards the same panel he had gotten his own sleepwear, and tapped the glass. The drawer slid out, and Jim quietly lifted a matching set. He shuffled back across the floor in June’s direction, his eyes returning to her. He kept his eyes trained on her face, approaching with the clothes like a reverent gift. The second he grew close, his breath seemed to catch in his throat. The faint heat from the bathroom, or from her, seemed to entice the faint trickle of a bead of sweat on his brow. He paused before her, before turning his gaze down towards the pajamas. He held them out towards her, his eyes trailing up from her towel to her face again. "They might fit weird… I can try to find something else if they aren’t good."

June watched him cross the room, the neat choreography of motion so inherently him that it barely registered as surprising. Of course his wardrobe would rise like a machine responding to instinct, of course his pajamas would be folded with geometric precision, seams aligned like blueprints. The loft felt like the inside of his mind— ordered, categorized, every object obedient to its purpose. Efficient. Tidy. Jim.

She accepted the pajamas with careful fingers, the fabric soft against her palms. “Thank you,” she murmured, voice low but steadier than she felt. She tried to soften her tone, round the edges so it wouldn’t scrape against the tension already coiled in the room. “They’ll be fine. Really. Perfect for tonight.” The reassurance felt like placing a hand on a bomb and praying the wire she cut was the right one. Her smile, small, fleeting, was the closest she had to composure, and she let it linger for half a heartbeat before slipping back into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind her like a sigh.

The quiet met her again, humming against her ribs. She stared at the pajamas for a long moment before changing, moving slowly, every motion an echo of the mechanical efficiency she’d worn like armor all day. She tugged on the shirt and pants, the fabric swallowing her smaller frame, smelling faintly of metal and detergent and something warm she couldn’t name. She took another breath, steady, then steadier, and pressed her palms to the sink. It’s just sleep. They’d shared more than space already, they’d had sex for pete’s sake. More than logic. More than plans and contingencies. So why did this feel suddenly monumental? Why did her pulse climb her throat at the thought of sharing the bed?

Ridiculous, she told herself, tilting her head back until she could feel the cool air brush her throat. You’ve survived worse than proximity. Get a grip. Still, she lingered. Just one more second. One more to smooth her hair back, to straighten the hem of the borrowed shirt. To arrange her folded clothes and towel neatly. To gather the frayed edges of herself and knot them tight enough to pass for whole. Then she pulled the door open quietly, stepping back into the loft with her chin lifted.

Jim remained frozen a few places from the door, standing stiff and straight with his eyes focused on the wall. He was doing everything he could to be normal. He tried not to others the towel dropping, or the shifting of fabric as June put on his clothes. He did his best not to imagine the scene behind the closed door, despite how vivid he could imagine it after that morning. He fought against the rising warmth in his core, reminding himself that it was just June. She wasn't a stranger, or a fantasy. She was just his intimidating, intelligent, and charming family friend. This wasn't anything special, certainly.

The moment the door swung open and June stepped out, those simple thoughts flooded out of his head. Seeing June's smaller form swallowed in a matching set of sleepwear had burst open the dam of spiraling emotions he tried to seal with naivety. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He stood frozen, taken by the sight of her. After an awkward moment, he simply muttered, "Oh… wow."

Focus.

The thought cut through the fog of his clouded mind. He cleared his throat, averting his gaze for a moment. He was already regretting the offer, purely because he now felt more awake than he had minutes ago. His voice was quiet and oddly vulnerable as he spoke. "I'm… sorry. I'm not used to this." A true admission, and one that came from the series of conversation templates he ran through his mind in the time she showered. Things were new and very strange between them since the night before, and he wasn't even entirely sure what he was apologizing for. It was usually more of a social habit, but here it felt like the best offering he could muster.

June felt the warmth rise in her chest, unbidden, at the quiet sincerity of his words. She froze for a heartbeat, unsure whether to smile, sigh, or retreat, her usual command over composure faltering. The apology was disarming, simple, unadorned, and it washed over her like a cool tide over sand— erasing the jagged edges of all the doubt and worry she had been carrying. Her cheeks warmed, and the tight coil of anxiety threading through her mind loosened just a fraction more. She was embarrassed at how flustered she felt by his simple statement before his apology, at the way the steadiness she so fiercely curated had been brushed aside so effortlessly.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, she moved toward the bed. Each step was measured, deliberate, as if she were approaching a skittish creature, giving herself and him room to breathe. She settled beside him, careful to leave an ample gap, her posture upright but softened at the shoulders. The faintest exhale escaped her lips, and she let her hands rest loosely in her lap, idle but present.

“I… I’m a little rusty myself,” she admitted, voice low, threading through the quiet of the loft like a tentative promise. “Everything’s… different now. And I guess I’m just… worried. I don’t want… I care about you a lot, and I have for a long time.” Her eyes flicked briefly to him, earnest and unguarded, before she let them fall back toward her hands, letting the vulnerability sit unchallenged between them. “I don’t want to push you too far, especially if you aren’t comfortable.”

Jim's expression oddly hardened at June's words as he nervously readjusted his position on the bed. He hadn't expected her to hold the same nerves he had, certainly a byproduct of that Wayne myth-making that made her seem more than human. "I… don't know what to do." It was a soft confession, one he figured he owed. "I'm not quite… I am fond of you. I haven't really thought about anyone else in this way. I never thought it could be mutual." The words flowed out like a jumbled mess, glancing towards June but not quite making eye contact. He didn't know what to do with his hands, lifting one before setting it back into his lap.

"I… just don't know what to think. I don't want to be a distraction, or to be distracted… but I feel like I was more distracted before we..." He trailed off, as if the exact word to use was a landmine. He turned his head away, color filling his cheeks as he refocused his thoughts. He had a point, and it was just better to get to it. "I… think we are already entangled, right?" His question lingered as he glanced back towards June, finally daring to try and match her gaze. His knit brows accentuated the lost expression, searching for answers in her eyes.

June was quiet for a long moment, the space between them swelling with the weight of everything he had said, and everything he hadn’t. The loft felt too still, too pristine, as if the air itself were holding its breath. Her gaze dropped to her hands, fingers loosely intertwined, then separating, then tangling together again in a restless loop. Her thumbs traced absent arcs against her knuckles, a nervous habit she hadn’t bothered to break when thinking was hard and feeling was harder.

A distraction.

The word lodged beneath her ribs, dull and persistent, echoing every time she inhaled. She understood what he meant, she really did. Missions. Stakes. The world balanced on a knife’s edge, catastrophe always one misstep away. Logically, it made sense. But logic didn’t soften the way the idea of herself reduced to a variable, to something that needed managing, minimizing, slipped past reason and went straight to the bone. It felt like a boundary she hadn’t seen being drawn, a thin, sharp line etched around something fragile and unnamed, warning her not to step too far in any direction.

She drew in a slow, careful breath, shoulders lifting and falling with deliberate control. The kind of breath meant to steady trembling hands. This, she realized. Now. This was the moment. The only one where honesty wouldn’t shatter her completely if it went unanswered. If she waited, if she let this keep growing in the quiet, unspoken spaces between them, the fall would be farther, sharper. More devastating. Her fingers stilled at last. She lifted her gaze to him, hesitant at first, then steadier as it met his own. Her eyes were bright, not from tears, but from the effort it took to hold herself open like this, resolve braided tightly with vulnerability, each one keeping the other from unraveling.

“We’ve been entangled for longer than either of us wanted to admit,” she said softly, the words careful, measured, as if she were placing them one by one where they couldn’t break. “Longer than we realized.”

Her lips curved faintly— not quite a smile, more a ghost of one, touched with memory. She glanced away for half a second, as though bracing herself, then looked back.

“For me… I think it started the first time I met you. That computer room.” A quiet breath escaped her, almost a laugh, almost a sigh. “You were impossible and brilliant and infuriating, and I remember thinking—” She faltered, fingers curling into the fabric of his borrowed sleep shirt at her thighs. “Oh, I like that. I like how he challenges my mind, that’s so…refreshing.”

Her voice steadied as she continued, even as her hands betrayed her nerves. “Somewhere along the way it stopped being just admiration. It’s always been there, on some level.” Her shoulders lifted in a small, helpless shrug. “Being on the same team doesn’t change that. It never has.”

She swallowed, the movement visible, words pressing hard against her chest as though they might refuse to come out at all. One hand came up to rub at her thumb, grounding herself before she spoke again. “I don’t know how I feel about being called a distraction,” she admitted, her voice catching despite her effort to keep it even. “I know what you mean. I do.” Her gaze flickered away and back again, searching his face, afraid of what she might find there. “And maybe it’s true—we are distractions to each other.”

She hesitated, breath hitching, then pushed forward anyway, as if retreat weren’t an option anymore. “But I keep thinking…” Her fingers tightened briefly, then relaxed. “Would it really be better if we weren’t—together, like this?” The words trembled, but they didn’t break. “Because I think pretending this doesn’t exist would be a worse distraction for me than letting these moments happen.”

Her shoulders dipped as the last of the breath left her, something like relief and fear twisting together in her chest. She shifted slightly on the bed, not moving closer, but not pulling away either— holding her ground. “I’m worried too,” she said quietly. “All of this scares me more than I want to admit.”

Her voice softened further, guilt threading through it. “And I’m sorry for putting you in this position. It was selfish of me.” She lifted her eyes fully to his now, unwavering despite the shine there, walls finally collapsed beyond repair. “But I don’t regret it, because if we fail, if the world ends, or if… if the worst happens, and one of us dies, then at least I’ll have had this, even for a little.”

Jim remained frozen, his brows furrowed as he took in June’s words. The small smile at the corner of his lips was the only sign of how her words landed. There was something reassuring about knowing, for certain, that she liked him. He met her gaze briefly, his hands clenched in his lap. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a sharp breath. He was always bad at offering comfort. The best he could do was a bad facsimile. "I… I don’t know when it started," he replied, his words softer and with a more vulnerable tone than he felt comfortable with. She deserved honesty. "You were always different. I didn’t have a lot of friends… but the ones I had weren’t like you. But who could compare to a Wayne?" His smile grew a fraction at the joke, an awkward hiccup of a laugh punctuating the statement. His nails dug into his palms as he focused on laying bare his feelings.

"I’m infatuated with you." The confession lacked the same punch after the events of that day, but it was as abrupt as if it was a revelation. In truth, to him, it was. "My chest hurts around you. I was hoping it was just indigestion." He didn’t even chuckle at his attempt at humor, his eyes searching June’s face in the hope that she understood. His eyes only flicked away to her lap, uncurling the fingers in his lap. "I don’t think I would have ever worked up the nerve to say or do anything. I don’t like risks or improbabilities or inefficiency. I like my routines and my work." He took in a breath, feeling his thoughts and feelings tangle into a ball of discomfort in his chest. It was more than he knew how to handle, a tempest of things he didn’t know how to describe and all felt like nails on a chalkboard. He was warm, his cheeks burning.

He lifted his right hand, watching the shaking thing as he moved it in June’s direction. His fingers brushed against hers in her lap, eliciting a jolt through Jim’s system as he nearly pulled away. He persevered, gripping onto her like a lifeline. When his eyes met hers again, his own eyes wet with emotion. "I… wouldn’t mind new routines with you." He gulped some excess saliva, his bodily functions seeming to go haywire with his emotions. His thoughts did cling to one thought, one thing that needed clarification. "I… I’m not doing this just for you. I don’t do things I don’t want to do."

June didn’t interrupt him. She barely moved at all, afraid that even the smallest shift might shatter the courage he’d gathered piece by piece. She listened the way she listened to a confession in a quiet room, the kind that trusted silence more than reassurance. Every word he offered landed carefully, stacking atop the last, and she felt them settle in her chest with a warmth that surprised her by its gentleness.

When he said he was infatuated with her, something inside her loosened, an unspooling she hadn’t realized was wound so tightly, and when he followed it with indigestion, a soft, startled laugh slipped free before she could stop it. It wasn’t mocking, not even amused; it was relief, pure and bright, and it left her smiling at him in a way that felt almost shy. Oh, she thought, with a fondness that made her chest ache in return. He really is trying.

She watched his hand as it trembled toward hers, felt the jolt when his fingers brushed against her skin, and didn’t pull away when he held on. Instead, she let her hand curl around his, grounding him as much as herself. His words, about routines, about choice, about wanting, settled into her with a deep, steady certainty. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but sure, carrying the weight of careful thought and honest feeling.

“I wouldn’t mind building new routines with you either,” she said quietly. “And I understand what you mean. This isn’t just for me.” Her thumb brushed lightly against his knuckles, a small, reassuring motion. “Just like my choice isn’t just for you. We’re… choosing the same direction, for our own reasons.”

She held his gaze then, something playful and knowing flickering through the tenderness as a sly grin tugged at her lips. “We’ll have to learn how to coexist a little differently now,” she added, warmth threading through the words. “But I think we’re both fast learners.” The smile softened as she paused, hesitation briefly clouding her expression while she weighed the thought turning over in her mind. When she spoke again, it was gentler still, vulnerable in a way she didn’t often allow. “I want to learn what you do and don’t like,” she admitted. “Your boundaries. Your rhythms. I don’t ever want to hurt you by accident.” Her fingers tightened slightly around his hand, a quiet promise. “If we’re doing this… I want to do it right.”

"I think we’ve already done things a bit out of order." Jim’s remark was quick, filled with a more subdued sarcastic tone than normal. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of touch between the two of them. It still felt abnormal, a departure from his usual comfortable experiences. It wasn’t bad necessarily, at least not now. "It would be a long list… I’m very particular. I’m pretty sure HELEN could pass it on better than I could." He paused, slowly opening his eyes to face June again. He looked down at their intertwined hands, letting the moment settle as he found the right words. "We can figure things out with trial and error. Take things slo–" The word caught in his throat, his eyes unfocused as a sensory memory shook him out of that sentiment. As much as he didn’t like thinking about it, there was no knowing how much time they had to figure things out. Slow wasn’t going to cut it for either of them. "No… no, I… maybe not slow," he mused aloud, his thumb gently stroking June’s hand. "You don’t have to worry about hurting me. I’m not going to break. Besides…" The corners of Jim’s mouth turned up in the tiniest smirk.

"We both know I’m the one likely to mess this up.."

June snorted before she could stop herself, the sound soft and inelegant and wonderfully real. It startled her just as much as it did the moment, and she found herself smiling wider when his familiar sarcasm slipped back into place like a well-worn jacket. The tension she hadn’t realized she was still holding in her shoulders finally ebbed, warmth replacing it as she looked at him, really looked at him, and felt something settle into an easier rhythm between them. This was the Jim she knew. The one who hid sincerity behind dry wit and let humor do the dangerous work of honesty.

She shifted slightly on the bed, still keeping that careful space, but her posture loosened, shoulders relaxing as her fingers remained intertwined with his. When he admitted that not slow might be the only option, she didn’t flinch. If anything, she felt a spark of something reckless and alive flicker through her chest. The world didn’t give them the luxury of ideal pacing, and she had learned long ago that waiting for the perfect moment usually meant missing it altogether.

“Not slow works just fine for me,” she said lightly, a small shrug accompanying the words, as if she were agreeing to a change in weather rather than something far more significant. Her grin turned playful as she added, “And yes, you can absolutely have H.E.L.E.N. email me the list. I’ll study it like it’s a mission briefing.” There was fond amusement in her eyes now, the corners crinkling just slightly, but it was clear from her tone that she was utterly serious.

Then her gaze dipped, not to their hands this time, but to the space between them, measuring, considering. When she looked back up at him, the confidence softened into something more tentative, almost shy, though the teasing lilt remained. “So…” she began, drawing the word out just a fraction. “Am I allowed to kiss you now?” Her lips curved into a coy smile, eyes bright with curiosity and warmth. After a beat, she added, gentler but no less playful, “Or should I be responsible and wait until we’ve both gotten some sleep?”

Jim blushed at the direct question, his eyes nervously tracking her shift in expression. The playfulness they had shared had returned in full force, but even he could sense the sincerity underlying her request. He couldn't help but glance at her lips again, and then back into her eyes. The sensation of touch between them grew scalding, or maybe he was just imagining that. He broke eye contact to look at the larger bed behind them.

"A kiss before bed is normal. I think. Right?" It was a cheap rationalization, a feeble excuse to indulge in something they enjoyed. At least, he hoped she enjoyed. She said she had, and she didn't seem to be lying. She wouldn't be asking for another if she didn't. Jim gulped down the thoughts and cleared his throat, addressing her directly. "I… would like it if you kissed me," he admitted softly.

June felt absurdly light in that instant, lighter than strategy, lighter than fear, lighter than the careful architecture of plans and contingencies that usually lived behind her ribs. The simple fact of his wanting her to kiss him bloomed in her chest like warmth after cold, quiet and bright and almost embarrassing in its purity. It made her feel young in a way she rarely allowed herself to be, hopeful in a way that didn’t come with blueprints or safeguards attached. A new normal, she thought, something fragile and tentative taking shape between them, stitched together from awkward honesty and small acts of courage.
She didn’t answer him out loud. Instead, she leaned in.

Slowly at first, as if giving him time to change his mind, to pull back, to recalibrate, but he didn’t, and neither did she. Her free hand lifted without quite realizing it, hovering near his shoulder, not gripping, just resting there like a question she was still learning how to ask. When her lips met his, it was soft, a little uncertain, the kind of kiss that carried more feeling than precision. There was the faintest clumsiness to it, a gentle misalignment, a breath caught in the wrong place, human and imperfect and achingly sincere. But there was warmth too, and intention, and a quiet, careful passion that promised this was something she meant to remember.

She drew back after only a moment, not because she wanted to, but because it felt important not to rush the meaning out of it. Her eyes searched his face, bright and a little shy, her smile small but unmistakably real. “Was that… okay?” she asked softly, voice barely louder than the hum of the tower around them.
Jim nodded slowly, his eyes still closed from the moment she had leaned in. His lids opened lazily, a mixture of exhaustion and relief leaving him blissfully sluggish. When he answered, it was in an equally soft manner. "It was." He gave the hand in her lap a soft squeeze. "They have all been good. I want more," he murmured, taking in a breath before he dared to glance back at the bed behind them. He offered a defeated frown by the time he looked back at June. "But we need sleep. And I feel like if we kiss again, we won’t stop," he admitted, the memory of that morning once again playing through his mind. With a moment’s pause, Jim slowly turned his body and lifted his right knee up onto the bed to face June directly. His hand still held hers, lightly tugging her back towards the rest of the bed. He tilted his head briefly, as if pointing with an unseen hand for her to climb over and join him.

June felt the heat climb into her cheeks at his confession, a soft, startled bloom that made her duck her head for half a second, smiling despite herself. Wanting more, of her, of them, landed gently but firmly in her chest, like a hand set over her heart to remind it that it was still beating for something good. She let him guide her without resistance, fingers still threaded with his as she shifted closer, the world narrowing to the simple choreography of knees and blankets and careful movement.

She crawled onto the bed, slipping beneath the sheets and comforter with a quiet rustle, the fabric cool at first and then quickly warming around her. A small, breathy laugh escaped her as she settled in, equal parts bashful and pleased. "Yeah… that’s fair," she admitted softly, glancing at him from beneath her lashes. "Guilty as charged."

The tension eased out of her shoulders as if someone had loosened a too-tight knot, her body finally remembering what it felt like to rest instead of brace. The sheets smelled faintly of clean detergent, something simple and comforting, like rain-dried cotton, and she found herself idly wondering if he washed them every day, or if he had done it because he knew she might be here. The thought warmed her more than the blankets. Maybe in the morning, they could…

She turned onto her side, facing him, drawing her hands close to her chest beneath the covers, her smile lingering— small, real, and a little dazed with relief. For a moment, she just looked at him, committing the quiet version of him to memory, the softened lines, the unguarded eyes, the calm after so much storm. And for the first time in what felt like forever, June let herself believe that sleep might come easily.

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Camp Athens - Closed

^{#0bbdaf ....|..... outfit .....|..... #04ed42 ....|..... outfit .....|..... arena}

As Tapeesa had leaned into him and quickly dozed off, he instinctively lifted an arm to wrap it around her shoulders to keep her in place. The second he did, he felt warmth fill his cheeks with color as he became a little self-conscious at the display. He knew how his kind gestures often got misinterpreted, and the last thing he needed was another incident like the night before. He didn’t mind the warmth of holding her, or the way her expression had softened completely as she slumbered in his arms. She looked cute, not that she didn’t always look–

Play it cool, Banes.

Nate readjusted in his seat, making sure to hold Tapeesa steady as he watched what remained of the training course. His eyes shifted down the field towards the guy running the show, River. The man looked rather detached as folks ran the obstacles, taking notes on his little clipboard. Most groups didn’t seem as enthusiastic and competitive as the group he ran with. Had he known, he would have taken his time. He could have avoided the fall, and maybe his gracious benefactor wouldn’t have nearly collapsed into his arms. Her threat to treat his wounds did feel like an actual threat at this rate, and one that gave him pause. Certainly she would be like that with anyone, not just him. After all, she seemed pretty friendly with the tall dude with one arm… though he couldn’t blame her for that.

What could he blame her for anyway?

As the last group finished and River began to approach the stands, Nate turned to look back at Tapeesa. He took in a sharp inhale, stealing one last glance at her face as she rested peacefully against him. He felt guilty as he slowly rocked his body side to side, shaking her a little to wake her up. His voice was soft and low, whispering to her as he looked back towards River as the man was making his way towards the stands. "Wakey Wakey, Sleeping Bea-" he murmured, pausing as the last word caught in his throat. He rolled his eyes at his own awkwardness, his lips tightening into a tight lipped smile. Why the hell was he so damn nervous today?

Tapeesa slowly roused from the gentle rocking, quiet words, and the warmth of his breath tickling the loose hairs that dangle in front of her face. "Mmm," she moaned softly, raising her hand to rub her eyes as if she just woke from bed rather than having half passed out. "That's the second time you've called me that," she mused quietly, turning her head slightly against his shoulder to steal a small glance up at him, squinting with a tired grin. It was small, a fleeting comment likely to mean nothing, but the coincidence made her smile grow, subconscious and unbidden. Sleeping beauty… beauty. A small flutter tickled in her stomach. That wasn't something she was used to hearing.

After rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm and a small yawn, she slowly sat up. The tips of her fingers ran along the warmth left behind against her cheek. "You make a good pillow," Tappi confessed sheepishly. There was something about Nate's presence that made her feel comfortable enough to fall asleep on him effortlessly. The realization made a warmth bloom across her face, but it was mostly hidden beneath the imprint of his shoulder against her cheek. It had been what? A day? Not even… And there was already an uncanny synchronicity between them. She felt strangely at ease sleeping against him, but there was also a small nagging guilt… like she was taking advantage of his kindness or making him uncomfortable.

Color filled Nate's cheeks at Tapeesa's comments, and he turned to meet her gaze with a matching grin. He let his hands drop from around her shoulders, opting instead to rock back and tap his shoulder against her. "You can use me as a pillow anytime." His words were sincere, even if he turned his head away as he spoke them. He chuckled softly as he dug deep in his head for some means of deflection. "Watch out, though, falling asleep on me twice since yesterday… might become a habit if you aren't careful."

While she could have sat up on her own—should of—her shoulder sunk against Nate’s like an anchor, grounding her in his presence as she tried to blink the exhaustion from her eyes. Tappi hummed softly, her smile growing bashful as her dimples flourished to life. It was an innocent enough offer that stirred something warm inside her, making it hard for her to meet his gaze but seeking it all the same. "You make that sound like a bad thing…" Her voice was quiet, almost like a thought slipping free rather than words spoken into existence. There was a sudden, magnetic draw to take his hand. Her fingers twitched slightly, nearly acting without thought but stopped when her pinky reached the edge of her thigh. It was simple and effortless the night before, they didn’t overthink it… But they were no longer in the privacy of her cabin and the stupid heavy words she muttered in that privacy still hung in the air over them, dense with implications.

River’s final approach and the clearing of his throat jarred her out of her thoughts. Her hands snapped together and were quickly pinned between her knees like she was caught redhanded doing something she shouldn’t have been. Tapeesa chewed on the inside of her cheek with her gaze focusing on the dirt smudged across the knees of her pink yoga pants. She didn’t overly care about his pacifying words, only wanting their results and little else. She had a hard time gauging how she did. It was pretty obvious she did not finish well, but she knew that she did a little better than some of the others. That didn’t instill much confidence and left her anxious to hear her time. First and second place were filled with names she didn’t know aside from River, obviously. Then in third place was Elias. An intangible tether tugged at the back of her head, enticing her to turn around and look for him in the crowd… She nearly did, but forced her gaze to remain forward.

After a handful of results she didn’t care about, a name rang out that demanded her attention. "11:01 Nathaniel Banes." Tapeesa slipped one hand free so she could gently poke the side of Nate’s leg with her finger in silent recognition of his time. It wasn’t surprising he did well, although he probably could have shaved a couple seconds if he didn’t waste time waving at her… Not that she was complaining, not entirely anyway.

River continued to list off more times and names, and with each one Tapeesa grew a little more nervous. She didn’t do that bad, did she? Her brows tugged together, creasing in pensive frustration as the first failing time was mentioned. "15:02 Tapeesa Nanuq."

"What?!" The words slipped out somewhere between a startled gasp and a whine of disbelief. Her eyes went wide after her outburst, shrinking into her seat as if it would hide her from the curious gazes or River’s judgemental stare. "Sorry... Sorry," Tapeesa muttered under her breath as she quickly buried her face into the palms of her hands. Two seconds… Two seconds. Her mind immediately started replaying her run, honing in on every single slip, fall or misstep that could have made the difference between her passing or failing. She should have waited to heal the others, she should have focused more, pushed harder… something.

A slight hiss of an exhale sounded from beside Tapeesa as he turned his gaze back in her direction, shrugging his shoulders. "That’s some rough luck, Tappi." He kept a smile on his face, still somewhat pleased with how he fared against most of the others in camp. A couple seconds over the desired time was not bad at all. "Pretty good for running a course blind." His words were soft and kind, doing his best to ease what tension he could. After all… what were a couple seconds in the grand scheme of things? Nate still didn’t understand the point of any of this to begin with, and an arbitrary time was just an arbitrary time.

She groaned into her palms before running her hands down her face with a defeated sigh. Tapeesa looked over at him with a defeated slump in her shoulders and a weak smile. He was trying to cheer her up, which counted for something. But still… "Two seconds?" She sighed more in deflated acceptance than an actual whine... kind of. "I should of—"

"Anyone who finished in under fifteen minutes is excused for the rest of the day." The change in River’s tone as he reached the end of the list cut off Tapeesa’s hushed chastising. She looked over at Nate with an attempt at a reassuring smile that was more tight lipped than warm. Considering he finished with time to spare, he was free to go and she definitely didn’t want him feeling like he was obligated to linger around while she was forced to partake in whatever form of punishment for failing… by two seconds... Even if she didn’t want to be left alone.

"For everyone that remains, you will run the course a second time."

Tapeesa sucked in a sharp breath, half gasp half scoff. Of course. Two seconds was all that separated her from leaving in search of lunch, but no… She was stuck running the course a second time. Sure, she got the tiniest of naps, but it did little to nothing to restore her energy… And she just had to heal Wes after her run… Gods she really was just shooting herself in the foot. She sighed and buried her hands into her palms again, hiding her face, barely paying attention to whatever else River had to say… It didn’t matter.

Nate let out a sigh at the announcements. He let his head hang back, looking up towards the sky as he could practically feel the tension and anxiety radiating from Tapeesa. He took a breath, rolling his neck. "This sucks," he muttered, lifting his hands up to his knees. He slowly rose to his feet, letting out a slight yawn. He looked down at Tapeesa, holding a hand out towards her. "Luckily we can take our time."

She heard him stand up and half expected him to leave, get food, maybe find a cabin or something, but he didn’t walk away. Nate’s words cut through her frustration like a knife, drawing her gaze past her fingers and to find his hand extended toward her. "We?" A warmth she couldn’t describe blossomed in her chest and melted the tension that had quickly formed across her shoulders. We... He said it again, not forced or intentional, but like a natural state of. He wasn’t going to leave her to suffer through it alone and that meant more than she could put into words. His kindness continued to surprise her and somehow made him more attractive—which was dangerous if she was trying not to have a crush on him… It wasn’t working.

A resigned smile, sad but full of immeasurable gratitude, pulled at the corner of her lips as she slid her hand into his. The warmth of Nate’s palm was grounding against her skin as her fingers wrapped around his hand, using his support to help pull herself to her feet. Tapeesa wobbled for a second as the initial head rush made her dizzy. She closed her eyes and held tight to him as she steadied herself. It only took a second or two before she loosened her grip with a sigh. "Sorry. Let’s just… Get this over with." Whether it was ok or not, Tappi didn’t pull away but guided them toward the course with a gentle hold that he could break free of if he wanted, but kept him close if he allowed it.

Nate didn't mind Tapeesa's tight grip, instinctively reaching his other hand to hold her shoulder steady. He imagined it might be another story if he could sense how painful her squeeze had been. He didn't let go, letting Tapeesa drag him along behind her. He was a little surprised that she continued to hold on to him, a small weight pressing in his chest. He was a little out of his element with such an obvious display, one he was almost certain he was overthinking. He looked out towards the course again, and the others preparing to run it again. "Consider this an unofficial favor for healing me… and an apology for keeping you up late." There was a slight edge of awkwardness to his words that his usual aloof attitude lacked, focusing on looking anywhere except at Tapeesa's shoulders and back.

Tapeesa scoffed as she reached the tires, slowly releasing his hand so she could tuck loose strands of hair behind her ears. She would give him the unofficial favor for the healing, if that made him feel better. Considering he couldn’t feel pain she imagined she’d be racking those up pretty quickly. "An apology?" But an apology for keeping her up late? Her mind immediately hooked onto it, overthinking the meaning behind it as anything other than him possibly regretting it, especially with the subtle shift in his tone. "I don’t regret it," she replied plainly, no blushing, no hesitation, just unfiltered honesty. "Any of it," she emphasized, sparing him a quick glance before turning toward the tires and starting her second run.

Her brief nap did little to recharge her batteries and give her the amount of energy she needed to run through these obstacles. With every step Tappi’s legs felt like lead, slow to respond and heavy to lift. By the time she reached the last tires she was more walking than running just to avoid clipping her toe and tripping. If she had to run it again then fine, but she refused to fall on her face. She wasn’t being timed so the last thing she was going to do was rush through it and get herself hurt. The hurdles were easy enough in the beginning, but the third demanded some level of vaulting or climbing. She stopped before it with her hands resting on the log and just stared at it. Her fingers rapped against the rough splintering wood as she built up the strength to jump. She definitely did not get as much height as she had wanted. She caught the log in her stomach with her upper body leaning over it to counter balance her weight and not lose the handful of inches she gained. Awkwardly, she swung her leg up over the log, getting herself upright to straddle it. She took a break for a second, sighing. "This is going to take forever," she muttered to herself.

Going through the course a second time at a more relaxed pace was no sweat for Nate. He strolled through the tires with his hands shoved into his pockets casually. He trailed behind Tapeesa, watching her carefully. As his eyes fell on the hurdles, he smiled softly as he recalled how some of the others handled the obstacle. He jumped up onto the first one, proceeding to hop on top of the second, and then the third. While Tapeesa straddled that one, Nate remained perched and offered a small smile. "It would be nice if you would finish before dinner," he smugly offered, his grin widening as he prepared to launch himself to the next one. "Or… we can try some shortcuts." He made the jump look simple, launching himself out and up to the next log. He crouched down to help regain his balance, before rising back up to full height and turning around to face her. "Want to give it a shot?"

Maybe it was because she was tired. Maybe it was because she was annoyed she failed by two freaking seconds and had to run the course again. Or maybe it was because she saw the ways other people got help compared to Nate just breezing through the course alongside her, not really helping but somehow highlighting her own failings… But it all just made her frustrated. Tapeesa knew his comment was supposed to be more playful but the smugness in his tone only picked at the wound. It wasn’t a balm but an irritant that made her feel like a burden. "I am tired," she responded plainly, as if that was answer enough, not meeting his gaze or matching his smile. She swung her leg over to the other side of the log then slipped off, landing with a soft thud, stirring the dirt beneath her.

Tapeesa took a step forward approaching the four foot log hurdle with an exasperated sigh. She braced her hands against the coarse wood then paused, staring at a spiraling knot between her thumbs. "I’m not going to cheat to finish faster. That’s not how I learn anything." She jumped like the other hurdle, getting a little more height than the last so that she was able to wedge her leg against the log and roll herself over the top. Her landing was a little sloppy and she stumbled a few steps, but she made it nonetheless. She approached the last hurdle and groaned. Her hands rested on her bent knees as she hung her head for a second to muster up whatever strength she had. "If you don’t like my pace, no one is making you stay. I finished the first time on my own, I can do it again." She pushed off her knees and tackled the last log, sloppy, fumbling, and she definitely got some splinters, but she made it over. When her feet hit the ground she didn’t say anything, just walked toward the next obstacle, lowered herself onto her stomach and started crawling.

Nate hopped to the last hurdle, freezing only as Tapeesa's tone shifted. He looked back towards her, noticing that any warmth in her expression was gone. He turned away from her, taking in the rest of the course in his view. Showboating was evidently not the move here, but a small comment in her remarks dug under his skin. "I don't cheat," he replied with a clipped tone. He shook his head, jumping down to the ground as he waited for Tapeesa.

"I'm not a liar either. I said I would run it again." He kept pace with her as she made her way to the next obstacle. He only spared the occasional nervous glance in her direction, as if making sure she was still there. "You're tapped out, and the course has some tricky parts. Maybe I don't want you getting hurt either." His words were as confident and genuine as they usually were, any embarrassment from the confession washed away with the shame of ticking his friend off. As Tapeesa lowered herself onto her stomach, Nate let out an uncomfortable sigh. He lowered himself down next to her, offering a couple final words before he began wiggling his way under the wood beams. "When we're done, I'll take a hike and give you some space."

A third of the way through, Tapeesa’s head face planted into the sand with a soft thud and a sigh that stirred the dirt and grit around her. She stayed there for a second or two, half tempted to just cease to exist there. She was frustrated with the course, with River, with Nate, with herself… with everything. But even in her frustration, she appreciated that he didn’t want her hurt, and that he cared beneath his words, but she didn’t want jokes or him showing off. She wanted a hand to bolster her and a shoulder to lean or cry on. It didn’t come out in her words or actions, getting all jumbled in her exhaustion and irritation which only made it all that much worse.

After the second huff she lifted her head, sweat dampened skin now covered in a dusting of sand. "I don’t think you cheat," she clarified to the earth, to her aching muscles, to Nate if he was listening. She continued pushing and pulling her way through the obstacle with gritted teeth, fueled by determination. "I also know you’re not a liar," she grunted as she pulled herself to her feet at the end. She braced her hands against her knees as another wave of dizziness washed over her after standing up too fast.

Tappi shook her head, trying to stave off the fuzziness that clouded her vision as she slowly, unsteadily approached the rope climb. She blew out a breath that puffed her cheeks as she grabbed the rope and looked up to see just how far she was expected to climb. She did it once, but now her arms felt like jello, weak and more like noodles than actually useful. She didn’t know if she could lift a child let alone herself, but she had to… somehow. Her forehead pressed against the braided cord, trying to gather her energy, strength, drive… anything that could motivate her to move.

Nate followed wordlessly, pulling himself out of the sand with a slight grunt. He was not fond of the sand that clung to his skin under his shirt, matching only the uncomfortable feeling of sweat sticking his shirt to his back. He followed Tapeesa up to the rope, taking note of her hesitance. He wasn’t sure if she had the energy to climb as she had before. He paused as he watched her cling to the rope. She was irritated with him… but the last thing he needed was for her to fall and hurt herself. Wordlessly, he stepped up next to her. He took the end of the rope, being careful not to shake her as he wrapped it around the back of her left calf. He pulled the slack of the rope over the top of her left foot, and then began to reach for her right leg before stopping. "I’m going to touch you. This should help." Without waiting for permission, he placed a hand on her right foot and slowly moved the heel on top of the rope positioned on her other foot. As soon as she was in position, he quickly moved his hands away.

Her head lulled to the side, pressing her cheek against the rope as she watched him work around her, preparing her for the climb. Tapeesa didn’t question it, assuming he knew what he was talking about since he had finished fine the first time. There was a small part of her, deep behind her ribs that knotted uncomfortably when he felt the need to warn her before touching her, something he likely wouldn’t have done before she snapped… But now, everything felt out of sync, balancing on eggshells rather than resting in the comfortable ease they had before. The moment he finished, he moved away so quickly it was like touching her was painful… burned. Tappi turned her head away as she cleared her throat, attempting to stave off the lump that wanted to form in her throat and hide the emotions that were usually painted plain across her face.

Nate hopped onto the rope next to her, taking a leap up to get into position. He swung his left leg to catch the rope, getting into the same position he had placed Tapeesa. "Think of an earthworm… you want to inch up. Focus on standing, not pulling. Your hands are just for hanging." The instructions were short, followed by him slowly pulling himself up the rope as he instructed. It did not bring the same strain on his muscles as attempting to just pull himself up. He only hoped it would help Tapeesa enough. But just in case, he hopped down from the rope to stand near the bottom of hers.

She blinked and drew in a breath before she let her gaze drift over to him, watching the way he inched up, focusing specifically on his feet. Tapeesa nodded her head, not the most convincing, but she normally was a fast learner so she could only hope it’d come in use, even when her brain felt like T.V. static. There was still a part of her that was scared of falling but she didn’t say it, instead remaining silently hopeful Nate would catch her if she did.

Tapeesa wrung the rope between her hands, giving herself another minute of rest before she jumped like he had. She dangled only a foot or two over the ground, looking down at her feet trying to make sure it looked the same as it had for Nate before attempting to heed his words. First she lifted her knees, slipping her feet up higher but focusing on keeping the rope nestled where he placed it. Then stood up. It felt… weird. She still had to rely on her arms to support her weight as she adjusted her legs, but at least she wasn’t having to pull herself up because she genuinely didn’t know how much her biceps could handle before giving out. Her climb was slower than the first time, still made her muscles ache with a burning fury. But with a steady, albeit weak pace, she made it to the top. The lowering though, that took more of her arms. She made it three-fourths of the way down and decided to drop the rest of the way before gravity or her exhaustion made that decision for her.

When she landed she wobbled and her knees buckled, having no choice but to reach out and grab Nate’s shoulders so she didn’t fall over. She remained here, probably for a bit longer than she should, then slowly released her hold with a quiet, "Sorry." Her pace and drive were waning, but Tapeesa continued onto the next obstacle nevertheless. She stopped at the start of the rope bridge, recalling her fall and the bruises she was likely to have in places no one wanted to have them. She took her time studying the net and figuring out which way would be the best to cross instead of a blind hurry that messed her up the first time.

Nate’s instincts took over as Tapeesa fell, his hands quickly reaching out to help hold her in place. His hands wrapped around her waist, his breath catching in his throat as he judged her expression to make sure she hadn't hurt herself. His touch lingered as hers did, acting as a respectable support to lean against as she caught her breath. As she pulled away, Nate shook his head. "Don’t be. It’s what I’m here for." The admission was simple, but seemed to even surprise him a little as Tapeesa turned away. He cleared his throat, as if trying to pass the sudden nervous energy that flooded his system by the contact. His eyes focused on the dark mark on her neck, only just seeming to register how apparent it was.

Nate spoke up again, his words rushed as he followed. "That was good. It takes some time to get used to, and it’s a little easier to recover." Focusing on the course helped take his mind off the layers of tension that seemed to lie between them. Talking filled the silence, which seemed to be even worse than frustrated barbs. "For this… Just make sure you step with your arch so you can rebalance. Slow and steady." His tone was a little warmer, but he couldn’t exactly look Tapeesa in the eye as he got on the net bridge next to her. He slowed his own pace, taking in deeper breaths to give himself more things to focus on.

There was a faint smile that fought to come to light beneath her frustration and exhaustion at his comment before he hurried after her. It didn’t last long, disappearing almost as quickly as it came, but it was there, warm and unbidden under the irritation, not gone, just temporarily dormant. "I don’t know how much I plan on climbing ropes in the future," she commented quietly, fairly flat but there was a ghost of her usual weightless lilt that clung to the tailend of her words. Tapeesa nodded her head, silently acknowledging his guidance as she took her first step out onto the net bridge. She used her hands to brace herself on either side, and kept her focus solely on her feet, preplanning every step and move before she took it. The wobbling made her head spin and her balance pitch, but whenever she felt herself swaying she closed her eyes and waited for it to pass.

It took her a while to get across, but she eventually made it to the platform without slipping or falling through one of the holes. Tappi slowly approached the far end where ropes were waiting for different demigods to swing over the dark pool of water below. She took a second to shake her hands, if only to regain some finger and upper body strength. She made it across the first time, barely, so if she got a running start to get better momentum then she should be able to make it across… hopefully. She reached out and grabbed the rope, then took a couple steps back. At least if she fell there was water to catch her.

Before she could over think it, Tapeesa ran to the edge and jumped. She made it halfway across well enough, until her muscles gave under her own weight. Her hands slipped against the rope, trying to keep hold, but gravity eventually won, and she fell with a quiet squeal and a splash into the water below. A moment later her head popped up, breaking the surface of water with a cough and gasp. But she didn’t rush to get up, instead sitting shoulders deep in the shallow water, dejected like she was considering letting herself drown rather than continuing on.

Nate winced at the sight of Tapeesa’s fall, his own hands still gripping tight his own rope. His body moved before his mind or words could, jumping off the ledge and hanging onto the rope as it swung in an arc forward. He held on all the way until the end of its arc, looking over his shoulder and feeling that twist in his gut at the brief weightlessness. When he came swinging back down, he waited until he reached the lowest point before letting go. He splashed into the water himself, tumbling over himself as he clumsily tried to recover. When he did, he was positively soaked through and trudging over towards Tappi. "You ok, Tapeesa?" His tone was measured, calm, and did not match the concern lightly etched in his brows.

She felt the splash of water on the side of her face, but hardly noticed. She didn’t register that Nate willingly dropped into the water until he was standing in front of her. Was she ok? No. Tapeesa was usually the type of girl who was able to find the silver lining in most situations, always optimistic, smiling, a power of will that no one could extinguish. But running the course a second time while exhausted, feeling like she was being punished for helping people, was like a slap to the face. Her light felt dim, like a candle holding on to the last bit of flame when the wax was all gone. Her spirits were low, lower than where she sat half submerged in a shallow pool of cold water, lower than she had felt in a long time.

"I’m fine… I’m not hurt," she finally answered, voice betraying her confidence with a soft waver. Her muscles ached and palms were raw, but it was nothing sleep wouldn’t fix. But the lump in her throat that she couldn’t swallow, it hurt with the embarrassment of failure and tears she didn’t want anyone to see. She sniffed, wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm, and stood up without a word.

Slowly, with her head hanging and gaze fixed on the rippling water around her thighs, Tapeesa made her way toward the side of the pool. She braced her hands on the edge and started climbing out. She made it halfway out when her elbows buckled and she swayed backwards, feet slipping back into the pool. "Come on," she grumbled under her breath and slapped her hands against the ground with a defeated sigh.

After giving herself a minute to calm down and get ahold of her emotions before she broke down entirely, Tapeesa braced her hands against the edge of the pool a second time. Rather than trying to climb out with confidence, she just wanted out, however that came… Which turned into some clumsy childlike roll which covered her soaked skin and clothes with a layer of sand and dirt and whatever else lived along the floor of the arena. She got to her feet and made her way toward the balance beams with slow resignation. Using the beam for support, she gripped the wood with her sore hand while scuffing her shoes in the dirt to rid whatever moisture clung to them so she’d have better traction.

When she was ready to tackle it, Tappi approached the incline and stopped with a heavy sigh. She remembered her getting dizzy and falling… and her head was already spinning. She didn’t want to ask for help, didn’t want to need it. She wanted Nate to offer, but at that point her pride was already bruised and deflated. So rather than hoping and waiting, or suffering through it only to fail, she turned her head toward him, too ashamed to meet his gaze. "Can I hold your hand… So I don’t fall?"

Nate had continued to follow slowly, watching her with the same anxiety she had for his run. Tapeesa was exhausted and clearly too tapped out to be able to learn anything from the experience. If he wasn't afraid she would pass out at any moment, he would be busy chewing out the egotistical and detached jackass running the show. Every step Tapeesa took instilled a deep frustration towards River, another on an ever-growing list of people who deserved retribution. That could wait until things were done.

Mixed with his simmering anger, Nate felt an uncomfortability he hadn't felt in some time. He wasn't sure how to help his friend, that almost supernatural warmth from their first meeting washed away to lay bare one simple truth: they were strangers. He didn't feel the pain she was experiencing, and his more carefree attitude towards the course left it hard for him to empathize. So, he followed Tapeesa with a newfound caution. When he stood beside her near the balance beams, the question sent a momentary shock through his system. His body moved before his mind, lifting his left hand to meet hers as he saddled up beside her. He slipped his palm against hers, his grip tight as he nodded. "Of course."

Even in her exhaustion and frustration, there was something grounding about the warmth of Nate’s palm pressed against hers. A soft, involuntary sigh slipped out at the touch, not out of annoyance or irritation, but relief… a quiet comfort that made it all a little more bearable. Her fingers wrapped around his hand, clinging to it like a support and a lifeline as she started climbing the rising beam. Her pace was slow, too slow to counterbalance her dizziness with speed. Every other step she wobbled and her grip tightened until she settled and moved again. When she was close enough to the end she jumped down, relying on Nate’s support to steady her if she started to tip over.

Tapeesa gave herself a moment of grace to just stand there and steady herself on the flat, unmoving earth. It wasn’t until she was ready to move again that she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Thanks," she whispered, quiet, verging on lifeless but no less gracious. Her fingers slowly slipped free as she approached the pool. She slowly sat on the edge, then lowered herself into the water. Tappi turned around, kicking off the wall into a back stroke, letting the effortless way she could float on her back buoy her and the occasional kick or stroke of her arms carry across the pool without exerting unneeded energy.

When she reached the end, she stood up, resting her arms on the edge. She skimmed the pool in search of a ladder or stairs but found nothing. She sighed heavily at the realization that she had no choice but to ask for help again, or be stuck in the pool until she somehow mustered enough energy to pull herself out. Still, determined, she tried once but couldn’t even get up to her waist out of the water before slipping back in.

Tapeesa didn’t need to ask again, most of his focus on her ever-exhausted movements. He swooped in next to her, placing his hands on her sides. "Turn around." His tone was soft but firm. His hands coaxed her movement, ghosting across her skin until she faced him. He moved his hands only briefly to guide Tapeesa’s hands to the edge of the pool, before finding her hips once again. He glanced briefly at her face, his eyes quickly darting away as his already flushed cheeks felt hotter. His thumb tapped against her skin softly once, then twice. When he would have tapped her again, he instead bent his knees before lifting her up. He hoisted her up onto the pool’s edge, guiding her into a sitting position. A trace of a smile lined the corner of his lips, visible only for a brief moment before he moved beside her.

When Nate’s hands found her waist, she gasped quietly, involuntary and inaudible beneath the sloshing of water. The combination of his touch and gentle words, ignited her nerves, somehow making her pulse race when she barely had enough energy to exist. Tapeesa nodded her head, heeding his guidance and slowly turning to face him. A warmth that wasn’t from the course was already blooming across her cheeks when she looked up at him. For a second her hands hovered in the air above his arms, preparing to brace against his shoulders before he shifted them to the edge of the pool. When his hands found her sides again, the heat that kissed her skin only grew. It felt far too intimate for what it was, which only made it worse and added to her waves of emotions. She was ashamed that she needed help for something so basic, embarrassed that everyone in the arena could see them like that, and mad at herself for the thoughts she shouldn’t be having at a time like that.

After the first tap she looked back up into his eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, only loud enough to fill the space between them. When he lifted her up, Tapeesa helped shift her weight over the side to sit on the edge when he released her. But she was in no rush to stand up, not yet. She knew the log ladder was next and honestly, she didn’t have a single clue how she was going to manage climbing it. So rather than stressing herself out beneath it, Tappi gave herself a break… Five minutes wouldn’t hurt. She lightly kicked her legs back and forth in the water, wet shoes being the last of her concerns. After a second, when some of the red had faded from her cheeks, although not all of it, she looked over at Nate. "I’m sorry…" She didn’t elaborate but felt it covered just about everything, her attitude, her uselessness… all of it.

Nate's hold lingered for a longer moment than he had intended, standing before her. He took in the sight of her, any semblance of concern or frustration washed away by something else entirely. Surprise? Momentary awe? It melted away too quickly to discern, his head tilting back down to a resting state. He watched water drip from her hair to her shoulders and down to the fabric of her top. He quickly let go of Tapeesa and moved next to her at the pool's edge before he dared let baser thoughts prevail.

Nate settled on the pool's edge next to Tapeesa, his hands brushing his damp hair until it was slicked back. The quiet apology stirred him from his spiraling thoughts. He had assumed he was the one who needed to apologize, but had been entirely unable to ascertain precisely what to apologize for. Insensitivity and carelessness were his closest approximation. She had been a little harsh in her tone, and the insinuation he was trying to get her to cheat made him more worried that she thought he was taking advantage of her. Was he just using her? The thought that he was dampened his mood further, even if he had good intentions.

Regardless of his own self-doubts, her apology demanded a fair response. "It's all good." The words were automatic and casual, rehearsed over years of de-escalation. The pain and exhaustion from running the course again was evidently wearing on her, and she was leaning on him more and more as they went on. He reached a hand up to Tapeesa's upper back, rubbing awkwardly back and forth. It was overly familiar, enough so for him to pause and slowly pull his hand back. He sniffed, moving his hand back to rub the back of his own neck. "Take all the time you need… I'd rather be here than back out in the cold anyways." The smile he flashed was a lot weaker and more hesitant than before, even if his tone was as genuine as ever.

His words felt… weird. Like something he’d tell someone else, missing their unbridled honesty. It all felt placating, lacking its usual sincerity… or, at least the sincerity she had come to know in the short amount of time they’ve known each other. Still genuine, not unkind, but distant in a way it wouldn’t have been earlier, more tense and less familiar. Maybe she could chalk it all up to the fact that they were strangers, but something in her stomach told her she messed something up… again. She seemed to be doing that a lot recently.

When he started rubbing her back, Tapeesa sighed softly. The warmth and soft rhythm easing some of her aches and discomfort. Her back slouched and shoulders curved in, melting and sinking into his touch. Then absent thought, she started to lean towards him, seeking his support and comfort. But then Nate pulled away leaving a vacuum between them and her skin cold where his hand had been a moment earlier. Where her body had relaxed all her muscles went rigid and tense. Her gaze fell to the wet fabric of her pants as her feet dangled in the water and hands gripped the edge of the pool. "Right… cold," she didn’t really reply, more echoed.

Tapeesa stayed there for another five minutes, sitting in the heavy silence as she let a fraction of her energy return. Finally she slipped her feet out of the water and stood up, not the most steady but once the head rush faded she was fine… enough. She slowly approached the giant log ladder while adjusting the damp straps of her sports bra and brushing her braids back over her shoulders. With a heavy sigh she braced her hands against the lowest rung and pulled herself up. She struggled to get her leg up over the log, pushing past strangled breaths and fatigued muscles to hoist herself up into a stable seated position. She gave herself a brief pause before using one of the rising beams as a support to stand and work on the next rung. Tappi continued the long, slow, and tenuous climb. When she reached the top she very pointedly kept her gaze locked on the splinters that peppered the log rather than looking down. She was already dizzy and didn’t need vertigo making it all worse.

Well… she couldn't stay up there. The end was so close that Tapeesa was desperate to be done with it all. With a final sigh, she slowly swung her legs over one side of the log and started climbing down. Nearly every time she lowered to a new rung her feet wanted to slip out from under her, but she managed to secure a foothold before shifting her weight. It was sloppy and precarious, but worked well enough. It wasn’t until the final crossbeam that gravity won out… once again. Her hold was weak and she couldn't find the log with her toes, so when her grip went… so did she. Luckily she was close enough to the ground that she only stumbled backwards a couple steps and landed a bit hard on her bottom, but by that point she was truly done.

She slapped her hands on the ground beside her with a frustrated grunt, stirring up dust and sand into a small cloud around her. Tapeesa couldn’t fight the tears that had been building with each obstacle and each fall. She could feel the heat in her cheeks, not the kind from a touch or lingering glance, but the kind that stung her eyes and grew alongside the lump in her throat. It blurred her vision and tightened in her chest. Desperate to be anywhere but trapped in that arena, as the tears started trailing down her cheeks, Tappi didn’t give herself a break or time to catch her breath. She walked to the final obstacle, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. She didn’t even bother attempting it correctly, just stepping over the hurdle straight into the small puddle of water without a care.

Finished. Finally finished.

Nate had quietly followed Tapeesa, climbing up underneath her and back down below her to try and catch her if she fell. Granted, he wasn't exactly sure how he would catch her without injuring himself severely, but foresight was not exactly one of his strengths. When she slipped at the end, he had reached a futile arm out. She fell outward, just out of his reach. The only saving grace was that she had fallen at the end. The look on her face surprised him, and she was off before he could even check on her.

Tapeesa wanted nothing more than to collapse to the ground and let the world pass on around her. It was so frustrating… all of it. She’d never felt so pathetic and weak before in her life, and it was on display before a camp full of people she didn’t know. As if looking incompetent in front of strangers wasn’t bad enough, it happened in front of Nate, which added five more layers of complication to a mess of emotions that were already churning inside her. There was only so much she could handle before she started to feel herself slipping through the cracks. More than anything, she needed to get out of that arena before the last pieces of her shattered and she broke down with an audience.

She crossed the arena with a renewed vigor, keeping her gaze on the dirt that stirred at her feet, wiping away any tears before they dared slip free. Tapeesa hardly noticed her clothes miraculously drying a second time as she approached the stands. She probably would have braved the harsh bite of winter while dripping wet if it meant she was free from training. Without stopping, she scooped up her parka and hoodie as she passed by the bench her and Nate had occupied earlier, then headed directly toward the exit.

As Tapeesa stormed off, Nate hesitated near his own clothes in the stands. All the effort trying to help amounted to nothing, and he slowly picked up the pack of cigarettes he had left on his hoodie. It was instinctual, the quick movements to lift another menthol to his lips. He paused before lighting it, removing the cigarette so he could slip on his hoodie and jacket first. Each second, his stomach and his mind grumbled. By the time Nate flicked open his lighter, his frustrations became audible. "I hate this fucking place," he murmered, shuffling his way out the other side of the arena. His feet took him in the direction of the lake, hoping the nicotine would calm his frayed nerves.

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... river & elias ............... collabs ....|.... @Mjolnir}

Fashionably Late // The Wild Hunt

Looks like the people have a penchant for some new years eve drama. Haven't seen a murder mystery RP in a hot minute, so that would be fun.

I am not sure how much time I will have on my hands though, as I've picked up some extensive editing work for a friend's passion project. I'll have a better idea of what my schedule will look like by the time the OOC is dropped I imagine. At the very least, I will be following/reading along to see what y'all cook up.

Camp Athens - Closed

^{#04ed42 ....|..... outfit .....|..... Party}

The key to testing the aptitude of children of classical gods was, of course, a surprisingly well-made copy of some army boot camp’s obstacle course. If Tapeesa hadn’t seemed so serious about this whole thing the day before and performed some kind of magical ritual to heal his foot, Nate would have laughed his way back to Nevada. He didn’t understand the why, the how, or what a jewelry store packaging had to do with the “dangers” they would face. However… he did know one thing and one thing only: he liked games and competitions. He leaned forward in his seat, watching River move through the course with a speed and comfort that said a lot about the man’s upbringing.

When his name was called in the first batch, Nate quickly rose to his feet and shed his hoodie. He set it down next to Tapeesa, giving her a small smile. ”Wish me luck, Tappi.” He lingered for a half a second, his eyes drifting to the course and then back to her. He never liked having his pockets empty, but the prevalence of water would certainly be a problem. His hands slipped into the pockets of his sweatpant and produced the box of cigarettes and his lighter, tossing them onto his hoodie. ”I’ll be back in no time.”

He shoved his hands in his empty pockets as he approached the rest of the gathered group of runners. He could faintly recall some of their faces from the party the night before. The man seemed to be far more focused on the only truly familiar face in the bunch: Andy. He did his best to keep a bit of distance as they grouped up, his eyes trailing the audience until he was able to get a good look at a certain jilted lover in the crowd. Nate’s best bet was just to stay back and not talk to her, lest he provoke-

"I’m sorry… about last night." Nate winced, his body freezing in his place for a moment. "I should have said something. I always thought those girls who immediately drop the ‘I have a boyfriend’ shit were…" Nate’s body relaxed, looking back at Andy as she spoke. His posture relaxed slightly as he took in the words and the apology. "It doesn’t matter. It was shitty. I’m sorry if I led you on and for how my boyfriend acted."

Nate nodded, turning his gaze back towards Mason for a brief moment. His tone was light with a hesitant caution slowing his speech a little. ”I… get it. I danced with the wrong person, you didn’t want to make things weird. Not the first time it’s happened, just glad I only walked away with a twisted ankle.” He offered a small smile, giving Andy’s boyfriend a slight wave before facing her again. ”It’s all good. Got patched up and had a good time. Just… maybe warn the next guy up front.”

As Andy turned to face the obstacle course, he did much the same. He lowered himself down to one knee, tightening his tennis shoes as he eyed up his competition. Andy looked a lot more athletic than he had first judged, the slavic guy seemed fairly intense, and the other dark-haired woman seemed equally fit and focused. Nate tried to offer a somewhat reassuring smile to the nervous woman in the group, but he knew damn well it would mean little in these circumstances. The obstacle course was intimidating in its appearance, and was designed to work out every part of the body. Nate was just glad he wouldn’t feel the pain that came from straining himself.

When the time was called to start, Nate didn’t shoot out to match the other’s speed. He knew an endurance test when he saw one, and instead focused on making sure he didn’t end up falling flat on his face like the night prior. The tires were simple, and he bobbed himself side to side in a steady rhythm as he crossed them. As soon as his last foot passed the tires, he sprinted for the log jumps. While he wasn’t a star athlete, he had done enough hurdles in high school for track and field his freshman year to easily launch himself over the first three logs. When it came to the fourth log, he didn’t feel like risking it. He placed both hands on the top of the log, using momentum and a jump to easily climb over. The last one required a bit more effort, forcing him to climb up and straddle the top for a moment. He sat there for a brief moment, looking out towards the small crowd of onlookers and giving a small wave. He locked eyes with Tapeesa for only a second, offering a smile before swinging a leg over and dismounting.

It took Nate a moment to find some momentum as he crawled through sand. He did awkwardly slam his spine up against the frame once or twice at the beginning, but didn’t even grunt at the sensation. While his hands were red by the end of the rope climb, he was still smiling like an idiot as he deftly crossed the net bridge. He was gaining back some of the speed he lost, still narrowly tailing behind the raven haired woman as he picked up some speed. The rope swing was simple enough as he cleared the water, landing hard into a roll as he held on for a little too long. He tumbled over his back and onto his ass, shaking his head as he picked himself up and continued running. He nearly sprinted over the balance beams, using the momentum and outstretched arms to surge past a stumbling Maylisse for a brief moment.

Swimming was something Nate had done, sure. He spent his summers in some local pools with friends to get out of the heat, but he was never the most competitive of swimmers. His dive in was clumsy, the sudden shock of water into his system causing him to flail slightly as he started his overhead strokes. He eventually managed to find the rhythm, taking in gasping breaths when he realized he had forgotten. Through the brief glimpses of the lanes next to him, he saw that what tiny lead he had over Maylisse had disappeared within moments. What little hope Nate had of showing off dissipated within a moment.

At the end of the swim, Nate pulled his sopping wet form out of the pool and spit out a bit of water into the sand. He tilted his head up towards the ladder, letting out a sigh as he picked himself up and pushed forward. He trailed behind the others ahead of him, forgetting about one of the Russians that trailed behind him. Nate clawed at each log, pushing himself hard without the need for a break from the ache of muscles. While his body felt heavy, his need to seem competent was heavier. When he crawled over the top rung, he nearly toppled over as he used a little too much force. His body shot over the top, his hands desperately clinging onto the log for stability. He shifted his grip, tilting his body sideways through the air. His ribs slammed into the rung below him, while he lifted his legs slightly to catch onto the rung below that. He let out a nervous, manic laugh as he found purchase, narrowly avoiding a rather embarrassing disaster. He scrambled down quickly enough from there, and easily launched himself over the pool of water near the end to keep with a sprint. As he crossed the finish line and felt the moisture get sucked out from his shirt and sweats, he shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered his way back into the stands to return to his seat without so much as a word. His ego was bruised enough, he didn’t exactly care much to know his exact time compared to the others.

When Nate sat down next to Tapeesa again, he put on a brave smile. ”I think I swallowed some sand. Is that bad?”

---

Location: Dance Floor
Interactions: Tapeesa and Andy @Mjolnir
Mentions (in his thoughts): Sylas, Sloane, Maylisse, River

Power Rangers: Secret Force

Was in the ER over the weekend, trying to get my bearings. Slight delays on my end.

@mickilennial

Hope you're feeling better. Focus on your health.

Reign of the Usurper

H O U S E . G A N A S E N

^{— . lords of the lost coast . —}

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H O L D . the lost coast

S I G I L . swordfish

C O L O R S . green & gold

W O R D S . "for distant shores"

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D U K E . Z A I D . & . D U C H E S S . N A D I R A D U K E . F C . Dev Patel . D U C H E S S . F C . Priyanka Bose H E X C O D E . #696b57 . H E X C O D E . #637435 For distant shores the Ganasen family sailed generations ago to seek refuge from persecution in Karthos, settling in the quaint bay that housed Blackcove. Over years and years, they bartered with foreign wares using the fastest of ships to populate their rocky shores. The Ganasen have the most complete charts of the Kraken Sea, capable of navigating its reefs and rocky coasts with a speed and accuracy that not even the navy can muster. The Ganasen have friends in every port, though their mercantile prowess has always garnered for them an unsavory reputation. Zaid Ganasen has done no favors to their reputation in noble circles. He was a pivotal figure in Rowan's Reckoning, smuggling in supplies to the rebellion and to King Leoric all the same. They did not suffer as greatly as the other holds, but the Ganasen fell in line all the same. When Rowan gained Phorian support, Zaid knew where the wind was blowing. His ships smuggled in Phorian troops into the Bay of Kings, and the rest was history. He has always been personable, a dealmaker, and a family man. He has tried to mold his two legitimate children in the same vein as best he can, balancing his responsibilities as a noble and a father well. Of course, the Duchess Nadira is every bit equal to her husband when it comes to mercantile arts. She is a respectable woman, having earned a reputation as the mercantile daughter of aristocratic spice traders in Valen. She manages the finances of house Ganasen, focusing less on the family and more the enterprise of their fleet.

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U P P E R M E R C H A N T . K H A L I L A G E . 30 . G E N D E R . male . S E X U A L I T Y . heterosexual H E X C O D E . #794f40 . F C . Mahesh Jadu • . conniving . • . spiteful . • . intelligent . • . idealistic . • . charismatic . • When your birth is tragedy, your life is a constant struggle. Khalil has struggled since he was untimely ripped from his mother's womb. His mother was Zamarian, a lover of the Duke of Blackcove, and an inconvenient obstacle when Arthoria's allegiances shifted in favor of the Phorians. The engagement was called off, and the boy was shipped on a Ganasen vessel to be with his father in hopes of a better life. That better life never came. His father has never shown affection for Khalil, pawning his rearing on maids and Zaid's brother Nasir, who himself has never been able to produce a child of his own. In the years since, Khalil has been raised a servant and merchant of House Ganasen. He has a sharp wit, a warm smile, and a silver tongue. He has travelled the world over, fighting and studying the ways of Karthosian cultures to become a formidable asset for the Ganasen clan. If he were legitimate, he would outpace his younger brother as a son worthy of Zaid's affections. Alas, for now, he bides his time and now serves at his brother's behest.

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L O R D . I M R A N A G E . 27 . G E N D E R . male . S E X U A L I T Y . pansexual H E X C O D E . #ba8f1a . F C . Regé-Jean Page • . hedonistic . • . spoiled . • . kind . • . loyal . • . trusting . • When your family are merchants of great renown with a specialty in importing fine wares, it is natural the heir of that mercantile empire has a taste for opulence. He wears the finest silks and satins, has fingers adorned in ornate jewelry with exotic gems and metals, and drinks the smoothest of wines. Some would call him spoiled, and they would be right. He is waited on hand and foot by the family's servants. That being said, he is a sociable young man. He knows how to rub shoulders with the elites, and does research to ensure he brings the proper gift for those he meets. He has his father's eye for making business personable. He aims to keep things "personable" in the capital.

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L A D Y . Z H A R A A G E . 23 . G E N D E R . female . S E X U A L I T Y . heterosexual H E X C O D E . #068b8c . F C . amita suman • . cunning . • . adventurous . • . cynical . • . opinionated . • . independent . • Some folks are born for the sea. Zhara feels uncomfortable without the tumbling waves of the sea rocking the ground beneath her feet. She has an intimate knowledge of sailing and the trading vessels in the employ of the Ganasen family. She is sharp witted and quick to retort to any perceived slight, and is the most capable to take over the family business among the children of Zaid. She has been sailing and serving as an uppermerchant since she was sixteen, and has earned a reputation among the sailors and merchants of the Ganasen family as the true "heir" to the family business, much to the frustration of her brothers. She wishes to find a suitable suitor to secure the family legacy, but finds it hard to relate to pompous nobles who prefer stability and security to the chaotic whims of the world beyond.

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^{N P C s . O F . N O T E}

C O R S A I R . H A R L O W The best captain in the merchant fleet and personal friend and confidant to Zhara, Corsair Christopher Harlow is in the capital as a bodyguard for the Ganasen family. .................................................................

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B U R S A R . N A S I R Master of Coin in Aethoria, High Bursar Nasir Ganasen is the youngest brother of Zaid and is a stalwart stooge of the Duke of the Lost Coast. He has been a mentor to his nephew Khalil. .................................................................

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L Y S S A N D R A . R O E A servant of the Ganasen family personally assigned to Imran as his handmaiden. She is the daughter of Duchess Nadira's lady-in-waiting, and seems to know Khalil well. .................................................................

Power Rangers: Secret Force

@webboysurf I know Sera knows Danny since she's the cheer captain and he's on the football team and son of the coach. I could see his dad asking her to tutor him after learning of her grades mixed in with extracurriculars and that's how they actually became friends. What do you think?

@King Kindred

I had the same thought the other day, and that works on my end. Don't know if they have a very deep friendship, but I imagine they see each other in study hall or something frequently enough and catch up/cram then.

Which then loops into @Altered Tundra, Danny probably took karate lessons from Sensei Marco in the summers or off-seasons (and sporadically throughout the rest of the year). He's probably seen them in those classes, and that might be the most Matteo and Danny have interacted. I think Matteo's carefree nature is a little weird to Danny, so they might not have interacted much outside of karate lessons.

@Azure Bubbles - I... do not think Danny and Han get along. I think their personalities clash a bit, when it comes to Han's bravado and confidence. They don't have a lot in common, and Danny doesn't gravitate towards the popular cliques as much as he just hangs out with his teammates. I think they have the most room to grow in terms of a friendship over the course of the RP, as I think they come from entirely different worlds.

Power Rangers: Secret Force

<sub>17 - #000000 - Pink Ranger - Loyal Jock - 6 ' 2 " - FC: Mason Gooding



The arena is empty except for one man
Still driving and striving as fast as he can</sub>

Character Sheet Questions

how would you describe their personality?

Danny is kind, energetic, and affable. He is the kind of guy who seems to know everyone's name, and is the first to jump when a volunteer is needed for... well, anything so long as it doesn't interfere with sports. He isn't the best student, but he tries harder than most of his teammates despite ending up with the same middling grades. That is the kind of guy Danny is: he puts 110% into anything he does, even when it doesn't pan out. He always puts in the work with a smile on his face.

He is fiercely loyal to his friends and family, willing to drop anything to come to their aid at a moment's notice. He hates being the decision maker, though, and is terrified of failure. The last thing he wants is to let anyone down, be it his loved ones or his teammates. It's why he throws everything he has into any problem. He loves the company of others, and takes great pride in the accomplishments of his friends and teammates as if they were his own. Part of why he pushes himself as hard as he does is to make the lives of those around him easier.

what has their life in Angel Grove been like?

Danny was born and bred in Angel Grove. His father is the athletic director of the local high school and coach of the football team, and his mother is a nurse at the local hospital. He has a younger sister who is a freshman who hates how protective Danny gets. To most, he seems to be set up to have the perfect high school life. Behind the scenes, Danny has always had tremendous pressure on his back. His father failed to make it to the Draft after college, and has tried to drill his own dream into his son. Danny's mother has always been far too busy with work to give him encouragement. Danny has been in a sport every season, alternating between football, wrestling, baseball, and whatever martial arts classes he could shove into his summer training seasons. He enjoys classes as they give his body a break and let him spend time with his friends. He isn't exceptionally popular, but is fairly well-liked and often goes out of his way to befriend anyone he can.

what can they do? what are they good at?

Danny is an athlete, through and through. He is fast, strong, and nimble. He is an exceptional wrestler, but has also taken classes in Jiu Jitsu, Karate, and even a few kickboxing classes. He hasn't gotten in many actual fights, though, just spars or official matches. Danny doesn't tire easily, as he is used to pushing his body to its limits. He is a good swimmer, and has training in CPR and some basic first aid knowledge. He knows his way around treating sports injuries, having sustained a few himself. As for soft skills, Danny always has an inspiring speech or heart to heart conversation he can offer in dire times. The only way to win a game, or save the world, is if everyone is amped up and ready to win.

how would they react to danger?

Danny would immediately focus on getting others out of harm's way, carrying people if he had to. Minimizing harm is always his top priority.

Relations/Opinions Sheet

Seraphina Henderson

The closest of the five Danny has to an actual friend, Sera is a go-to study partner. He views her as reliable and values her determination. Their "friendship" is pretty superficial, but he finds comfort in what interactions they have.

Matteo Rosales

Danny and Matteo get along well enough, but are clearly from two entirely different worlds. He cannot keep up with the tech whiz's intellect, and Matteo's carefree demeanor is antithetical to Danny's entire ethos. Talking to Matteo is hard, especially when Matteo's existence stirs up some insecurities Danny has regarding his own limited academic capabilities: after all, Matteo is smart without having to even try. Danny and Matteo have seen each other at Sensei Marco's classes from time to time.

Charlie Anderson

Danny would consider Charlie a friend, even if their interactions have been short and fleeting. Danny is a bit too optimistic and trusting to see through Charlie's facade, and had instead taken her social mask at face value. He has ignored the red flags, and has not been at the receiving end of her sharper edge.

Haneul Lee

Danny and Han are oil and water in a weird way. Danny tries to remain civil, especially at games and rallies, but he isn't a fan of his classmate's spotlight-chasing attitude. Danny also has a hard time understanding the effort that Han puts into dance and performance, and doesn't see the mirrored reflection of his own dedication to his skills quite yet.

Tia B. Scott

Danny and Tia don't really know each other. Danny knows she exists, has seen her with her fellow burnouts smoking in the parking lot from time to time heading to practice.

Power Rangers: Secret Force

Attitude was the only qualification for a reason.

Power Rangers: Secret Force

The majority of these apps + Tia:

@mickilennial

The power of friendship is only half the battle. The other half is martial arts and big robots.