Mood Ring

July 14, 2018:

J'onn J'onzz seeks the Witchdoctor's help with his recent anger issues.

Hall of Justice - Metropolis

Built in the same architectural Art Deco style of buildings such as the
Empire State Building and Union Terminal in Cincinnati, it harkens back to a
simpler time. With its wide open rotunda as the lobby and carpeting gracing
the marble and granite floors, the Hall of Justice seems to embrace the
concepts of Liberty, Freedom and the Rights of all Humanity.

It is a practical building; a front desk is manned 24/7 with a
less-than-obvious security force, ready and able to help any who may seek
aid from those within. Beyond, down massive lines of corridors, lies the
inner workings of the JL. High tech labs that mix both alien and earth
technologies can be found there, conference rooms, and even some living


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

The Hall of Justice is quiet now, just after midnight. Too early, perhaps, for the criminals to be out, and too late for the curious to come by. There's an odd kind of hush that settles over the place, giving it a peaceful sort of presence.

Undoubtedly, this is why J'onn walks the Halls — as is his way — his even pace methodic and almost meditative. He's in his human guise, as he is given to, here on Earth and off duty — even expression betraying nothing of his state of mind, not that this is in anyway unusual for the Martian Manhunter.

Witchdoctor was here, unperterbed by the late hour it seemed. A Witch at midnight is hardly a strange thought, but when one could step across the world with a simple spell? Timezones got a little less important and sleep paterns became a little more varied. Once more she was wrapped in her 'sorceress gown', the outfit that would make her look rather strange out in public looking almost more formal when in the presence of some of the Hall's heroes.

She was sitting within the public area, a slightly faded leather-bound book in one hand and a ceramic mug in the other. As the Man-guised martian arrives? The blonde woman looks up with a light smile. "J'onn, taking the night shift?"

Sleep is something J'onn J'onzz doesn't have to worry about — which is both good at bad. At times like this, it makes the world seem smaller, quieter — and the voices and thoughts of the people of Metropolis quiet, too.

The Martian, if he's surprised by the Witchdoctor's presence, certain doesn't show it, pacing close to the woman. "Witchdoctor. It is good to see you. No, I — I find it of comfort to walk the Halls and remind myself of my place here." Or not remind himself, as the case and his memory might allow. "I took a shift in the Watchtower last night. All was well — only a few minor incidents that didn't require my intervention." He hesitates for a beat. "Which is to the good. I feel more a burden than of use to the League, these days, I fear."

To read the Witch's mind wasn't impossible, but her surface thoughts seemed somewhat cloudy. A woman used to such powers even if she were not naturally a wielder of them herself. Her face however is a little more transparent as she gives a light raise of her eyebrow in shock.

"A burden?" she repeats, closing her book and tucking it into her lap. "What in the world would make you say that? You have as much a place here as any of us, likely more than myself in truth."

Certainly, there's no sense that J'onn tries — wittingly or not — to read the woman's mind. He seems respectful of those of Earth, especially those he works with — on that score, perhaps to the point of detriment.

Although little sense of his emotional turmoil reaches J'onn's expression or, indeed, his tone of voice, it is plain there all the same, by dint of the words themselves if nothing else. "What use am I, as a Defender of Earth, if I require someone to accompany me? I find myself shamed I am little mastery of my own self — something I have always prided myself on," he admits, quietly.


"I imagine that from a fae to a martian, this might sound a little odd, but we are 'only human' as it were. None of us are perfect, none of us can be flawless all the time." The blonde woman's drink comes to her lips, the strong scent of the chocolate beverage hanging lightly in the air. "That you even have concern at all rather than reckless abandon shows all it needs to about your right to be here."

Her, 'only human' speech — with clarification — is enough to earn a rare smile from J'onn — who has to make a conscious effort to display the physical reactions that for others are done without thought or effort. "I am not sure I wholly agree with you — but I do appreciate the support, nonetheless."

He's silent for a moment, regarding both her and her drink with an evenness that speaks to deep thought rather than a lack thereof. "My knowledge of magic is not great," he begins, slowly. "I wonder if it possible to — craft an artifact to reflect one's mood. Like a — one of those mood rings — only something that could warn my allies against my weakness. I find myself perhaps, overly cautious for fear I might inadvertently hurt those who are on my side. Anything you could help with to combat that would—" he exhales, "I would be in your debt."


Despite herself, the witch actually laughs, a sweet sound of legitimate humor and amusement. "A 'mood ring'?" she repeats before shaking her head. "Those trinkets and fakes always make me smile on both medical and magical terms…but to create something true of such a nature would certainly be possible."

She tilts her head, lookin the human guise of the man up and down once more before tilting her head. "I know much of human physiology, but little of Martian. I assume that simply monitoring your blood pressure and heartrate does not suffice."

Another sip of her drink and she makes a flicking gesture of her hand that causes the mug and book both to simply vanish as if they had never been there in the first place. "Perhaps a charm then, that glows more intently in the presense of anger? It should be a trifle to make."


"Our phyiscal bodies do not manifest signs of our emotional state," the Martian agrees with a brief nod of his head. "Ours is a species used to sharing our emotions telepathically, thus there is no need to convey such though less efficient means." He undoubtedly doesn't mean that as an insult, just a statement of fact.

J'onn doesn't seem to understand the humor — or doesn't react to it. He merely watches her, nodding at her latter words. "A trifle to you, but of utmost relief to me. If you can work on it and let me know when it is ready, we can — test it out." He sounds a little unsure about that, but gives a bow at the end, one of gratitude, all the same.

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