1669/Green is the New Black

Green is the New Black
Date of Scene:	26 July 2017
Location:	Gotham City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Poison Ivy, Nightwing

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Poison Ivy has posed:
It was a bit nightmarish, if one was entirely honest.

For about twenty two hours of the day, Ivy was kept in complete darkness. Many people at Arkham had no idea how to handle someone with powers like Ivy had - and 'vaguely plant-based powers' meant they tried to deprive her, as much as possible, of her connection and strength to plants.

Which meant... darkness, not sun. No windows. Metal chairs - metal tables - cushions stuffed with synthetic, non-plant fibers, and no possibility for cracks or anything to give her access to even mold.

Which meant that Ivy couldn't dress herself the way she liked. Which meant that... for now, Ivy was wearing the orange jumpsuit, Arkham Asylum written on the back, basking in the glow of a television screen embedded in the wall. And she looked miserable. A beat, and she pauses, attuned to the hum of the sunlamps powering up.

A long breath leaves her, and she lifts her chin, ready for them to flicker on as days drone into weeks, and weeks into... years, it felt like. Male doctors would access her through her TV screen, and she was getting sick of the female orderlies and doctors both. Who had absolutely no sympathy for her.

Nightwing has posed:
    The arrival of one of the Bat family is rare in Arkham. To them, in some ways, it was a gauntlet. The stares from the employees, the orderlies, the guards. He's a creature beyond the norm for them, technically not existing as a law enforcement individual. The cameras will record him, but no log entries are made. And then walking down the gauntlet of the cells, hearing the growls, the hoots, the calls, the snide comments, the laughter. It's all endured and ignored for the most part by the erstwhile Robin. His footsteps carry him down the lane until he stops there... before her cell.
    He had played no small part in her arrest and capture, had been there when she was brought in this time and perhaps had even aided in talking down the situation at least to a degree. Then again perhaps he just likes to think that he helped in that way for Dick... he does try to see the person behind the masks, behind the vines, behind the makeup and the curses.
    So it is perhaps a small surprise when he appears with that sliding view panel drawn open. A line carefully marked on the ground for him to go no further. Then he lifts his voice as he says loud enough to be heard, "Hello, Pamela."

Poison Ivy has posed:
    There was a button by the door. Lights, it read - and what Ivy was exposed to was not her precious sunlamps, but the glaring fluorescent lighting of the room - which pinged ever so wonderfully off of the smooth metal surfaces of her cell. Great. She had a visitor.

    One of the female guards - Sophia, who was oh so electric prod happy, and if she /ever/ got out of this cell, that animal would be one of the first to...

    So Ivy rises quickly to a stand to face the door - the door that had a sign - a laminated sheet of computer printer paper that said 'one female guard must accompany all male personnel at this cell at all times'. There were scratches at the laminate. As if someone had managed to get their hand out of the window at one point in history, and tried to claw it down.

    Ivy often could be talked down. For many of the rogues in Gotham's gallery - she was still, at least, somewhat sane. And somewhat reasonable - if one had a twisted sense of reason. It was a small surprise when that panel draws open.

    Ivy manages a little smirk. She had no vines now. No flowers, no blossoms - but her skin - usually more vibrantly green, was far more pale with the deprivation of her precious sun. "Have you come to visit me, Robin?" she asks, her tone of voice cooing low, under her breath. Taking a step forward, that little smirk blossoms into a wider smile. "They keep me in this horrible horrible light, or the darkness. Rarely do I get to see the sunlight, or the green. It's terrible, Robin... look... I'm wilting."

    Going to the maximum that her cell allows, she sticks her hand out towards Robin plainatively, showing him her wrist. It would look like a usual wrist, of course - but it didn't have the vines wrapped around it.

Nightwing has posed:
    A small smile is there and he gives her a small nod of commiseration, "I know. It's hard, Pamela. Perhaps in time things will be better." The vigilante lifts a hand towards the female guard, accepting her presence and tacitly thanking her for it, then he turns his gaze back on her. His eyes have always been hidden behind that domino mask to her, no hint of their colour, nor what window they might provide to the man behind them. But he has, at the least, always tried to do right by her. Since really, what are a few punches and foiled plans between friends?
    "You just need to focus on the good the doctors are trying to do for you. If you stick with it... who knows what the future will bring?" He offers that with that small guarded smile. He clears his throat and then adds, "I wanted you to know I'll stop by when I can to visit. Was there anything you need that I could bring by?"
    A pause, then he adds with a small twist of his lip, "Anything that the staff will allow."

Poison Ivy has posed:
    Poison Ivy was dangerous to touch, dangerous to hang around, of course. When she smiled, it was as if the smile was meant just for the person she was looking at with those vividly green eyes. And in this case that person was, of course, Nightwing. Even though she couldn't see his eyes, she keeps her eyes upon his own.

    "Yes, hope for the future. Things will get better because, as you know - this place cannot keep me, Robin," says Ivy. The smile is released, and she releases a long, quiet sound - pulling her arm back to herself to fluff her hair, her eyes flickering towards the guard, then up towards the camera at the upper corner of the wall. "But it's good to let the cattle have their fantasies, isn't it?" she says, giving Robin one of those too-warm smiles afterward.

    "But I really, really appreciate your visits, Robin - it gets so lonely here in this dark, quiet cell. And your little visits - they make my heart beat faster. Tick-tick-tick," she says, miming a faster-beating heart as the edges of her lips lifting up in a smile, as her eyes hood. "Won't you come back and visit me more often? And you'll bring me things?" Again, eyes flicker from Nightwing to the guard. "They won't let me have many things, especially that one. But... psuedophedrine? It's a nasal decongestant, entirely harmless - they don't have it in the infirmary - it's a precursor to methamphetamines with the appropriate lab. But I don't have that. Simply a stuffy nose. Won't you get some for me?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.

    "It's a pity they won't let you bring my favorite things - harmless little flowers, hmm?"

Nightwing has posed:
    She'll see his features twist slightly, a subtle pained look upon them as he says quietly. "I know it probably can't contain you, Pamela. And it's likely down the line you'll have the chance." He takes a step closer, the guards-woman clears her throat and looks pointedly at the costumed vigilante. He reassures her with a nod and for now it's allowed.
    "But if you do this the right way, there may be a time, down the line when you can reconcile things. Can come to grips with all of this, and who you are, and there might be peace. And if not isn't that worth the risk?"
    "You once asked me to just spend some time with you. Well. I'm asking you to do the same. Just spend this time."
    A pause as he listens to her words about his visits, then he shakes his head. "I doubt they'd let me bring you anything chemically inclined... or plant-wise." He gets a small smile, folding his arms over his chest and then that smile seems to come a touch more to life. "I was thinking audio books. But that's just me."

Poison Ivy has posed:
    Ivy leans against the side of the door, near the open window, her eyes forever locked on that domino mask. "And when that day comes, I'd imagine it would be best not to have been so free with the electric prod, Sophia," says Ivy, her eyes flickering towards the blond, no-nonsense woman that accompanies Nightwing.

    But Nightwing steps closer, and he is rewarded with a smile - wider and lingering.

    A smile just for him. Only for him. "Of course peace is worth the risk, my darling," she says, her tone of voice drawing just a little bit lower. "Just spend this time?" she asks, the little sultry edge to her voice wavering. "They tell me such terrible things. The life, safety and security of a plant - a creature that has existed long before animals have stomped through this world, and will exist long after - is not worth as much as your own. That this collision course humanity and technology have with oblivion is worth more than the peaceful serenity of the natural order. Of the Green."

    A little note in her voice, playful disappointment. "You'd say these things too, my darling Robin?" she says, laying her hand, palm-side up, on the little shelf of the open window. An invitation to touch. Her eyelids droop low to shade her gaze.

    "If you won't bring me cures for my stuffy nose, or plants to soothe my heart - I suppose I can listen to these books. It does get so lonely in here, after all," she says, heaving a long sigh - a wistful sound with her eyes unfocusing, and looking somewhere beyond Nightwing.

Nightwing has posed:
    With his eyebrows lifting behind that mask she can see him offer a sad smile, it's one of the few hints of the man behind the mask, just those small turns of lips and the faint expressions. He'd been told this was a fool's errand, and perhaps it is considering what may come to pass. But if he had made no attempt then he would feel he was less a person. Or perhaps as bad as certain elements in Gotham would consider the vigilantes.
    "You know what I think, Pamela. I think there can be co-existence, and that people have taken steps and gone a long way to living in peace wit the world. It's going to take time. But really in the lifespan of the Earth you have given us what? A single blink of Mother Nature's eyes, to try and affect such an equilibrium."
    He rests his hands at his sides and shifts his weight to the other boot, the leather of his suit creaking faintly. He gives her a small nod, "Just give yourself, and the world, time. I've tried to say what I could for you..." He looks to her hand and on some level he does wish he could take it, but he cannot. Not now, "Give my voice to help as I can. But if you do something. If you hurt someone... then you take my voice away."

Poison Ivy has posed:
    It was Nightwing's gaze that informs Sophia of the hand, and her eyes turn from him down to the hand, and her lips twist. Bringing up the prod, she keeps the charge off, but pushes it at the hand, and Ivy returns it to herself, a moment of utter hate and contempt entering her eyes, directed towards Sophia. Sophia, who smirks a little bit at Ivy's withdrawl, and returns her hand down.

    Assuming Nightwing didn't mess with that, that is.

    Regardless of what happens, Poison Ivy's next words would be the same.

    "There may be coexistence for you, or others worthy enough of it, but certainly you can't think that the destruction of life, and the Green, is worth your cities spreading like tombs across the Earth?" A pause further, and she sighs, disappointedly.

    "I suppose not," she says, bringing up her hand to the thick collar of her orange jumpsuit. "So it's your voice, my darling Robin - your voice that stops them from... sending me to Blackgate? Executing me?" she says, her voice tight as she cants her head to one side.

Nightwing has posed:
    "It is not my voice alone, Pamela. But I do speak for you. As do others." He lifts a hand and nervously pushes fingers through those dark locks, trying to make some order out of it and almost always failing. At the least the way it falls is often at least somewhat flattering. He smiles back to her, gently. "I can only... ask you to be open the the possibility that there is a middle ground."
    That said he looks towards the guards-woman and quirks an eyebrow.
    Sophia takes the moment to lightly tap her wrist, as if she had a watch and it was showing a late hour.
    Nightwing looks back to Pamela and nods to her, "I'll check back in soon. Please try to give it a chance, Pamela. Alright?"
    As he says this he awaits some acknowledgement and then will begin to turn away.

Poison Ivy has posed:
    Ivy takes a moment, her lips pursing - and then she offers a smile. "Of course, Nightwing. For you..." And the implication there was 'only you', as absurd as that may be to anyone thinking rightly... "I'll keep an open mind, hmm?"

    She sounded earnest, at any rate. But Ivy always did. And she wouldn't turn away. Nightwing would feel those eyes on him as he both turned and walked away - perhaps even after Sophia reaches over to slam the viewing window shut, twisting the light dial from 'fluorescent' to 'sun' lamps. Full spectrum light that mimicked sunlight, that so soothed Ivy.

    Even after the window shuts, Ivy steps back towards her bunk, the ignored TV screen in the background still blaring on inconsequential things about the news.

    But Ivy remains pointed towards the door, bringing up a hand to wrap a lock of her hair around a fingertip - and she smiles, wickedly.

    At nothing in particular.