November 10th, 2006
|08:46 pm - Before the Plague|
Donna and Roy are finally married. Whoever cooked up the buffet is to be commended, and now there is music.
The bride and groom have had their first dance and the band plays on. For once, all things seem in the prefect order. Between that, and Roy's words, Connor gets a little bold.
"Hey, Mia? Um...how good are you at dancing?"
November 5th, 2006
|12:14 am - Private journal (locked to comments)|
Things have not been making sense lately. It's been so long since I've felt balanced. Meditation does not quiet me. It now feels like an empty habit. Work allows me to forget for a while, block all out but that.
The JLA keeps me busy, but Shay noticed the strain. She thankfully chalked it up to self-absorbtion, which is all it might be. The point is to forget and release the self, to let go.
And I fail.
Dad told me...everything...about Dinah. I knew the bastard did something to her. Light doesn't pass up the cheap shots and he goes for the ones that hurt the most. I find myself looking forward to facing down that son of a bitch. I find myself visualizing his face on the target. He damn near destroyed Earth's greatest heroes, created a moment of panic that made us forget ourselves and what sets us apart from those we battle.
If it hadn't been Light, it would have been someone else, some other test where we'd find ourselves lacking.
And we will be tested again and again...and we can NEVER afford to fail.
Current Mood: angry
Current Music: "Burning the Ground" Duran Duran
July 11th, 2006
|09:00 pm - Capecon Art show|
The anonymous pencil art wasn't bad. Some of it was reasonable, and flattering. The picture of Dad is done very well. Someone paid a lot of attention there.
And then there's...the rest. Someone had a chest fetish and attempted drawing Dinah.
I also find this...fascinating pic of Dad and Arthur. The workmanship is excellent. As for content? There isn't a way to "un-see" something like that. It leaves a mark on your brain like a ink pen going through the wash.
Current Mood: amused
June 23rd, 2006
As I was taking a break from Slater, I checked e-mail. Master Jansen sent me a story he had found, probably knowing how I'd view it.
"The Sheriff of Nottingham captured Little John and Robin Hood and imprisoned them in his maximum-security dungeon. Maid Marion begged the Sheriff for their release, pleading her love for Robin. The Sheriff agreed to release them only if Maid Marion spent the night with him. To this she agreed. The next morning the Sheriff released his prisoners. Robin at once demanded that Marion tell him how she persuaded the Sheriff to let them go free. Marion confessed the truth, and was bewildered when Robin abused her, called her a slut, and said that he never wanted to see her again. At this Little John defended her, inviting her to leave Sherwood with him and promising lifelong devotion. She accepted and they rode away together."
It's supposed to be an assessment of values, a puzzle with no right or wrong, just one's point of view of a "who's more in the right or in the wrong" sliding scale that assesses the listener.
As for what many would joke are the modern-day incarnations...
1) Dad lost all rights to an objection several years ago and many times over.
2) Dinah doesn't cut deals like that. Argument's sake, though? If the rogue's unlucky enough to survive, he'll have multiple fractures and permanant deafness.
3) Roy probably wouldn't make offers like that. Pieter, I can see. Not Roy.
4) If anything remotely resembling this comes down the pike, I will be praying for the Enlightened One's wisdom - and a HUGE bottle of asprin.
Current Mood: amused
June 22nd, 2006
Jack Slater is at the Watchtower.
Should I cheer? Dad's a lot happier than I am about it.
Almost two years ago...
Connor woke up in a dingy cell, trying to put together what happened. He had been chasing some drug dealers down by the harbor, and got them in a warehouse. He'd only seen movement out the corner of his eye before the tranq dart hit, dropping him before he could duck.
The door swung open and there was the man in black.
"You're in the House. There isn't reason to say 'welcome.' As soon as that tranq dart wears off, Roulette's going to want to inspect you."
Connor kept his mouth shut. Any questions he had - "Why did you trick me?," or "Where the hell am I?" - weren't going to be answered. This guy wasn't dealing in answers.
"You check out, you fight in the arena. Fights are to the death. People want to see the Green Arrow fall. Some of them have waited all their life."
"Guess I'll have to disappoint them," Connor said. Unlike Dad and Roy, he's no expert in snark.
"If it's anything," the man admitted. "I've bet on you. You have what it takes to live..."
Current Mood: cold
Current Music: "In the Air Tonight," Phil Collins
February 27th, 2006
Never eat some of Dad's cooking as a post-patrol dinner when visiting Star City.
I feel like I haven't slept at all.
Onomatopoeia rampaging through the family...that one again. Only more vivid. I could feel it all.
I had to get up and patrol the house. Make sure the alarms and security was in place. Make sure Dad's head was attached to his neck (while trying not to wake him - he is not a morning person). Make sure Mia was okay.
I saw her stretched out on the bed in a tank top and sweatpants. She fell asleep with some of her music playing, headphones on.
Best sight ever. I almost dropped to my knees in a fashion that would have had me hauling water for weeks at the Ashram, and given some harsh words about "tending to my practice" and "all things pass."
Fuck that. Just, for now, fuck that.
Just for today, the family is alive and okay. Can't make any bets on tonight, tomorrow...but today, we're fine.
January 31st, 2006
At least it wasn't my left hand. While can write with my off-hand, it does take longer than I'd like.
Tara's not happy, neither is Mia. Can't blame them, but at least they're alive and I'll face down Deathstroke some other day (hopefully somewhere that isn't about to explode). He left a note in my glove with a threat to come back and hunt us down if I let it get known he "went easy" on us.
How redundant. He'll cross paths with us another time, and he'll be out to kill that time. It's inevitable in this kind of life. He and Shiva both have a sense of honor about their mercenary work, even though both of them have the empathy of bricks and scum for clients.
We didn't have the time for a proacted battle, and when I realized he was just there to slow us down, I knew something was up. His usual tactics are lethal. If he wanted us dead, someone would have been dead - probably Mia or Roy. I was the one he was concerened about - it's flattering and pisses me off at the same time.
He wanted us roughed up, but able to recover - just enough to prove himself the alpha dog. I know that second clip he had wasn't rubber bullets. He NEEDED that point proved. Needed it enough to get hired by someone who was willing to blow herself, her father, and everything in a kilometer radius sky-high. He's not someone who risks his neck for a cause. He's in it for the money, and you can't spend that dead. Whatever Slade's trying to handle, it's gone very badly. His ragtag band of rogues is probably falling apart at the seams. Part of me says "serves him right" and part of me knows that the rogues are upping the stakes and getting wilder with their tactics since word about Light got out.
While desperate people make plenty of mistakes, the man with nothing to lose is dangerous indeed.
December 12th, 2005
|08:50 am - You can quit pounding at any time|
I should be getting used to the confusion by now, but it's frankly getting me angry.
Tried to meditate, tried katas, even fired up the "practice room" at the Tower and cranked it to the highest setting I had access to. Well, it's made me tired physically, but has done next to nothing for my brain.
Damn everything, I went on this road trip in order to sort out the confusion, to get to know Donna (and Roy) better, and to reconnect with the simple things you lose track of when you're "in the life." Instead, I drag Roy out of a meth lab, find out Dinah had been kidnapped by a known rapist (please tell me she was not attempting to spare me details when she said the scum hadn't touched her) and breaks up with Dad (for the hundreth-plus time), and get Donna swapped out with Cheshire while Mia gets replaced by that lowlife that probably gave her HIV in the first place.
Mia's a good person, and she's been through so much. Koans and meditations on the nature of suffering are one thing - but seeing the old man, the dying man, and the corpse are quite another. Makes the ashram seem...cloistered and out of touch with reality, even though it gave me a lot of the skills I needed to cope with reality. Her relieved hug was about the only part of it that seems real. Most of the rest is like a really bad dream.
Call Dad. Get Mia down here for archery practice. Check in on the college. In that order.
November 18th, 2005
|11:12 am - Praying for peace, preparing for war.|
I'm not blind, not near as much as Roy likes to joke I am.
I've heard Donna crying out in her sleep. Whenever I attempt to ask her discreetly, Lian or Roy seems to come into the room, and Donna clams up. Damn it. Dad was not kidding. The resemblances between her and Dinah are impressive. Both of them will deny to every Chinese hell and back that they are just fine when you know they aren't.
And Dad and Roy both are so used to this that they shrug it off until it's one shrug too many and it explodes into either arguments that rattle the walls or go into a bedroom and rattle the walls another way.
*Sighs* And people wonder why I'd rather approach Brickwell than get set up on a date.
There's a lot of peace here, much like the ashram. Desert nights are quiet things, and the view of the stars is perfect. You don't see them so much in the city, where the street lamps blot out the view.
I wonder if Mia's even been stargazing, or if it's one of those experiences that she never had because of demands I'm not going to talk about.
No incense here, but a sage bundle will do. I'm meditating outside the trailer.
No. Praying. Big difference, Connor. Praying for Dinah, praying for Donna, praying for some guidance that makes sense.
October 23rd, 2005
|07:32 am - Road trip|
Good job, Connor.
So far, you've managed to tell Lian just enough information about what happened in Greece to suspect what really went on. Your brother and his girlfriend are highly annoyed with you for leaking said information (never mind that I wasn't about to lie - but I did edit what I could).
Top that off with the two of them speculating about Dad and some alleged "girlfriend." We found a supermarket tabloid at the last truck stop with a picture of this "Professor Reyes" and my father shot through the window of our home. Normally, I'm not a violent man, but that reporter was lucky I wasn't home or that Mia didn't bust him. He would have ended up with a broadhead through the lens of that high-dollar camera.
I defended Dad, but I hope I'm not proven wrong. With how I've been stuffing my foot in my mouth lately...
Deep breath. I breathe in, I breathe out. All starts this way.