Candles on the reflecting pool

April 20, 2015:

Clark meets up with Diana for some support.

Hall of Justice

It's a Hall. For Justice.


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: [* Closure by Dommin]

Fade In…

Superman hovers down towards the Hall of Justice late. Extremely late. Pushing four in the morning, to be more precise. He's flown for about 6 hours, putting out small fires, small crime, and other small issues in an attempt to keep the city safe. Also, in an attempt to think about something other than Kara. Satisfied that things are under control, at least for the time being, he heads towards the Hall.

Red boots pad down softly upon the white marble of the Hall's courtyard. He doesn't look quite angry, just sullen. The world was down one less leader. Clark hadn't the close relationship with Pershing that he had with Abbott, the previous President, but James was a good man.

This is closure..

The courtyard is vast and open, a walkway with an art deco fountain. Normaly where there was backlighting it is out. A darkness and sullenness that Superman portrays is there as well, leaving that courtyard to seem as cold as the wake that has yet to partake - the beating heart no more. But hope is not gone, and one person refuses to let it be so, and until the final resting place is met this is the scenario that will be seen for Persing… For America:

In the grass unseen in the darkness are hundreds of thousands of small candles. At the base of the stairs stands Wonder Woman, her head hung lightly, those noir strands falling from olive toned bare shoulders. Lowering to a kneel upon one knee both hands spread and small flames come to life at fingertips and the heads of a few candles become lit, but like a wildfire the rest spring to a heated life, small embers dacing around the feet of Superman, leading along the entirety of the courtyards greenery, and within the fountain small floral candles also come to a low glow, floating atop the water.

The Justic League will not forget /any/ of their fallen.

Standing the light reflects off Dinaa's diadem, the small crown of her placement amongst her people, though not silver. Gold, the star inside red. Her whole attire that of the old replacing the new en memoriam. Though when cerulean eyes find Clark they waver just before a smile tried to touch upon lips.

"Clark.." His forward footsteps met by her own to approach and meet him halfway..

I'm learning to grow from the things that hurt me so..

"Diana," responds Superman, always sounding so young compared his friends Wonder Woman and Batman. He looks for all the world that the Earth sits upon his shoulders. "I wish it were under some better circumstances."

The Kryptonian looks out amongst the small bits of flame that dot the pathway and he exhales as he looks at her. "It's beautiful."

"I spoke with Supergirl," he adds, letting it linger.

"Death is not empty. Not when you have done so much good. Despite the loss it has to be beautiful." Superman could hold the world upon his shoulders if he had to, but it had its toll. One Superman and Wonder Woman now it reflects, but in the company of him and Batman she could /let/ it.

When he says what he does in regards to circumstances her head shakes lightly. "We all have reason to be gone. You came back." That is what mattered, but when lips come to part to speak more nothing escapes.

"And how is she?" Some things are left to linger, some things need to wait for broaching, but who better.

Superman swallows with some difficulty, clearly unhappy by his upcoming answer. "Better than I'd hoped," he says looking out upon the water. "I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't what I got."

"They're going to crucify her, Diana. And I'm not sure I blame them. I honestly don't know what to think. All I've been able to do is to pray for patience and for empathy."

Diana's hand smooths over her face, but as if she is covering the aaction she pushes fingers back through her hair, clutching it there in a fistful of waves, her eyes descending from Clark to reflect the seat of candles. "Many died, the count cannot even be kept. We couldn't stop it Clark…"

Her hand falls and joins the other before her, both vembraces back on from where they had been lost in the street of Orleans France. "Hands were tied, but we have prevailed before. Kara is.." fingers curl into fists.

"Young, and you are right." Her eyes are closed as she says the words. "Too many have iprisen out of hate since our day swearing the others in and her announcement, confirming the fears despite the suspicion and knowledge. Even if they were evil intended that will be overlooked. All of it." Pause. "It breaks our oath, our proise to the people."

"She could have," Clark says, looking back to her. "She could have stopped them. She had options. Not with the President, no, but with the carrier. I expect more, and I don't know if I should."

Clark takes a few steps, assuming Diana will follow along, "My parentsI mean, my parents from Kryptonleft a message for me that I didn't find until I came of age. It said that the crest we wore was a sense of pride for my family for generations and generations. I worry that this act is going to bring shame upon my family. Both here on Earth and those who died a long time ago."

"There are still those here who fought beside my mother. Think fondly of her, adore her." Diana walks along side Clark, looking out long the courtyard and then at him and that weary strength he now bears on his facade in the shadows cast.

"In their passing we have large shoes to fill. We do our best. But Clark," Diana's hand now seeks to rest upon his forearm as she watches him stoically. "We are not them. We do as we must on our own. We keep our word. We find a balance. We stand for what is just and right." Stopping again in her words she exhales lowly, the tiredness seeping in at the corners of her eyes now. "Even if we do not like it. But we must be fair."

"Fair to whom? Fair to her, or to myself? I trained her. She's my responsibility," Clark shakes his head slowly with exasperated, raised eyebrows. "Just like you'd be responsible for Donna. We stand what we stand for, you're right, but her failure is mine too."

Superman doesn't notice how cold it's gotten out here tonight. It's supposed to be spring and the chill doesn't just come from the recent events. "Where do we go from here?"

A leader in his own right, he's clearly relying on Diana for some leadership now.

"Just and fair. What would we do if it was eachother?" Diana states now stopping and staring placidly upon him, though the ghost of emotion is there if you know the right corners to look in. "My people are at war. Over me and my decisions; to be here amongst the humans. But even as a youth I made my own. Kara is headstrong, proud, loyal. She is everything good, everything we strive to be and are. But her decisions were her own and that moment was unexpected. I cannot apologize for my decisions, just stand behind them, as she must."

Diana's hand has not left his arm, and now through the cold he may feel some warmth in the light squeeze she gives. "We can only perpare her for that. We all will fall. We will all get back up. It is who we are. /How/ is where help may be needed for her. If it was you, it would be the same from me, and vice versa. She is a warrior, she is her own person, and as we would do. Kara will get up from this and show them. That doesn't mean the path will be easy and we can stop it."

"I feel selfish, to be honest. I sit here worried about my own family. Somewhere out there, there are thousands of people who lost sons, perhaps husbands and fathers. They were the enemy, but they deserved a trial. I'm sure time heals a lot of wounds." Clark sighs, "This one is going to need a lot of time."

Superman smiles softly to Diana, "Thank you for talking with me, as always. Give the others my love. I need to be awake in two hours to start writing stories."

"We may not be seen as human, Clark, but we are still within the definition. Just be there to help her get up, but this is her fall to take. I recall the look on my mother's face the first time I did…" Diana's look almost got wistful but then it left her and therei it is: That strong statuesque repose, set jaw, determined gaze, straight spine and squared shoulders.

"Put a splint on it Clark, for her." Walking up the rest of the way to the Hall's doors she looks back at him and smiles now, softly, the truth never havind left for her friend. Tenderness and love. "Make the stories glorious."

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