3535/Log 3535

Log 3535
Date of Scene:	01 January 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Raven, Miss America

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Raven has posed:
    Raven has been a bit difficult to get in touch with as of late. She's an abnormally reclusive individual by nature, of course, but it seems that the removal of her tether location has made her even more elusive. Not that she doesn't want to talk to certain people. This is evidenced by how she gets in touch with America.

    It happens late at night- because of course it does, Raven seems to operate solely in the twilight hours, as if she'll turn into a pumpkin if she dares let herself be conscious during American daytime hours. As well, it happens rather abruptly. One moment, 'Meri is doing her own thing, the average, day to day happenings that almost blend together.

    Then, almost as if she was there the entire time, Raven is, simply, present. However, despite that she seems to be able to involve herself in America's life with all the flair and style of a Hollywood killer... She doesn't quite carry that into the proposal.

    "Hey, uh. Did you... Did you want to do the thing in Times Square?" It's pretty obvious she means 'Watch the ball drop, ringing in the new year, like basically a normal couple would do' but it's unclear what idea causes her so much hesitation.

Miss America has posed:
    So, what does America Chavez do on the New Year?

    She finds a food truck and buys herself a burrito, eats it, and then sets about looking into things she can help prevent and situations she can keep from escalating. Like very other day.

    It's, perhaps, a boring answer. But the simple fact is, America has seen more New Years than most people have probably seen their entire life. She has attachments to this world, now -- things she knows she shouldn't have, that she doesn't like to admit she has -- but all the same, those celebrations all sort of blend in for her, at a certain point. One world's 2026 is another's 3036. She's seen many of them, many in the same flavors.

    What makes today different, however, is the unexpected appearance of one of those attachments she's grown so, well, attached to. She's mid-bite of her freshly-bought burrito, situated comfortably at a bench in Central Park, when Raven arrives. Her sudden appearance doesn't make America start; the only obvious reaction is the subtle curling of her fist as she feels the bend of space and time, as if preparing for the potential of violence...

    ... a reaction that dims and then dies when she sees just who it is and what she's saying. Dark chocolate eyes close in a blink; America Chavez's hand relaxes. She looks up, mid-biting burrito, at Raven's awkward question. And then she bites a chunk off of her food, chews, and squints with a slow, scrutinizing frown. Raven's been remarkably difficult to get in touch with. One might expect America to be upset. Maybe even tell her off, considering that legendary temper. Or--

"The New Years ball thing?" she asks instead, like someone who isn't really in tune with the local traditions. She chews on her burrito. And then she stands, facing Raven. And offering the woman her hand.

    "Yeah. Sure. Lead the way, chica." And for whatever hesitation Raven might have, for whatever reason? For as casual as America is, she sounds more sure of this than anything else in her life.

Raven has posed:
    Raven understands, partly, that asking someone else in their particular line of... Work? Hobby? Duty, really, to do something else on New Year's is basically like asking 'Hey, let's both let some crime happen, because there's a thing that people watch over in Times Square and watching things is pretty neato.'

    Yet, here she is, asking America to do just that. Maybe she feels guilty, maybe she feels lonely- or maybe she's just spent the past few days within her soul-self, basically not existing, before realizing that she probably ought not to get lost in that. There's a... Danger, she perceives, in getting lost not just within her emotions, but within her self. There are hazards there, after all.

    She once again looks at the hand, as if it was one that she had not ever touched before, yet with a lack of hesitation that might almost be touching, she slips one of her own delicate limbs out of the thick garment she wears... Basically constantly. Her flesh is warm, uncharacteristically for someone in New York this time of year. America can feel it as Raven takes hold.

    "This is going to be unpleasant."

    Raven's teleportation always is, after all, but this time she's actually warning America that it won't be particularly tolerable.

    With that, the darkness of the night seems to sweep across them, and within an instant, somewhat more favorable to the fabric of space and time than punching- but probably a lot less cool looking- the two are in a different part of New York.

    They are overlooking the Square itself, and immediately Raven begins to speak. Apparently, she'd chosen one of the screens around the square for them to perch on- very close, but not within the throng of people. If nothing else, it might tickle America's fancy that they're technically not supposed to be there.

    "I'm sorry, I don't think I can get much closer. There are a lot of people feeling a lot of things, and it's a little difficult to work through it all." The first thing she does is apologize, perhaps setting the tone from her side of the date, as it were.

Miss America has posed:
    This is going to be unpleasant.

    "Yeah?" wonders America Chavez as her hand slips into Raven's, wondering, mildly, at the warmth of it against her hand. Her own is warm as well, as if the elements simply weren't strong enough to affect her body chemistry or core temperature.

    But all that is at least partially irrelevant as she gives her answer via lacing her fingers into Raven's and squeezing, wordlessly. And when she finally speaks:

"Bring it on, chica," she speaks fearlessly. As always, as ever.

    Seconds later, the darkness takes them, a swath of shadow engulfing them within its inky tidal wave. She feels the familiar bend of spacetime -- so similar, yet so different, from her own, more direct and forceful method of transportation -- and within a sliver of seconds, she finds herself somewhere entirely else.

    Perched upon a massive screen in Times Square as the large ball slowly sinks towards the New Year beyond them.

    Unpleasant is away to describe that jaunt. Cold and isolated, perhaps. But America hardly looks deterred, or put upon, or anything else as Raven speaks so hesitatingly, explaining the circumstances that she knows well. And as Raven sets her tone of the date...

    America sets -hers-, by casually leaning towards her side and pressing a warm, lingering kiss to the corner of Raven's lips, undaunted and unflinching.

    "Don't apologize," she says simply, the words murmured against the fringes of Raven's lips before America slowly starts to pull away. "This is perfect, Rae." Because they're not supposed to be there. Because they're sitting above all of that commotion, where Raven can enjoy the New Year in (relative) peace. Because she's here with Raven.

    "Good choice."

Raven has posed:
    Raven is... Seemingly hollow, for a while, following the small peck at the side of her face. She's trying to figure out the words to something. She's not as touchy-feely as other people might be. Perhaps not as much as she feels she -should- be, but that's just the way she is. She wanders the world, perhaps more, in so much bulk that it's kind of difficult to tell what her body even looks like under it, at least above the waist.

    Still, when she takes her seat, she makes sure that there really isn't any distance between herself and America- they are side by side. "I uh... I know I've been hard to reach. Turns out a cellular connection isn't possible when you're in a demiplane that resides outside of existence, made out of the fabric of your own essence. I've been... Spending a lot of time there, lately. Figuring stuff out, and basically using it to... Rest and sleep, when I need to. It's made me... Very distant, and I wasn't thinking, really."

    There's a pause, then, "But it is... Very comforting, that you were willing to go, tonight. I know that there is... Always a lot to do. Sometimes I cannot expect to be one of those things." Here is where America has a decision to make: Be soft, and comforting, or take advantage of the wording.

    It's hard to tell which Raven would appreciate more.

Miss America has posed:
    From so close, America can feel the warmth of the other woman through those voluminous layers of clothes that encase her and protect her against the elements. She lingers close even after the kiss to Raven's cheek, her thumb brushing itself idly against the inside of Raven's wrist as she listens.

    "Is it something you had t'do?" she asks, simply, her tone straightforward and questioning -- not wondering about the why, or the how, or demanding explanations. America seems content with the barest of answers, or whatever Raven might give her -- as if she's content, comfortable, with whatever her date might provide her. After all... "If it was, then you dont gotta worry about it, chica. Really."

    After all. Raven offers those words, that sign of comfort. And America responds by lifting her hand to wordlessly turn the other woman's head. She has a decision to make... and she makes it fearlessly as she leans in, uttering a simple, "You're always a priority, Rae," before her lips seek Raven's in a slow but firm kiss. Directly, fearlessly. To take her sweet, slow time to enjoy it.

Raven has posed:
    Raven had wanted to answer her, really. There were questions presented, after all, and she wasn't about to let them linger if she could help it. That's when America takes advantage, the cad. There's a hand on America's shoulder- it grips, lightly, as she's taken by surprise.

    She even lets out this little noise, lighter and, well, girlier than she's ever really made before. Raven doesn't do anything, though, to call it into question- to break the contact. As they sit there, one connected being, the sphere they'd come here to watch reaches the floor, and there is an explosion of noise from the crowd below, heralding in the new year.

    It's only after that- and not quickly, either- that Raven breaks the kiss. She spends a moment in silence- her unnaturally hued pupils just staring into the other woman's eyes. After one long, protracted moment, she eventually brings herself to speech: "I did, sort of. I don't live in the tower, anymore. So I don't have any... Solitude. To balance myself. Nowhere that's... That's -mine,- really."

Miss America has posed:
    The terrible cad. She doesn't even bat an eye at so terribly taking advantage; the feel of a hand squeezing at her strong shoulder just encourages her to wrap a powerful arm at Raven's waist to draw her closer within their precarious perch, as if wholly unconcerned with the potential they might just topple over the edge. And, considering who they both are, that lack of concern is probably well-founded.

    So, for now, America Chavez just heralds the new year with a kiss, deepening it with a quiet intensity just as that ball reaches ground level, her free hand departing from Rachel's to press to her cheek and slide it silently into the mess of her dark hair, scratching at her scalp until the moment those eyes open and their lips part. In silence, those dark chocolate eyes watch Raven's, unblinking, quietly considering. Content.

    "Left the tower?" she wonders, brows furrowed. "Did you leave the team?" It's a pressing question, but one that doesn't quiet seem to demand an answer, immediately. She considers Raven for the longest time, thumb brushing her cheek quietly. "You need a place to stay, chica? Someplace you can just have your thoughts, yeah?"

Raven has posed:
    Pressed together like this, America can get a feel for the physicality of the person she's sitting so close to. Not everything is as it seems, though, under the sweater. It probably warrants investigation.

    Raven doesn't have the sense of mind to do something as amazing as run her hands through America's hair, but admittedly, there's a... Level of perfection to Raven's body. Her hair is smooth as silk, nothing so unseemly as sweat or even a matter of split ends, as if there isn't a moment that she hasn't taken an amazing degree of care of herself.

    After a moment, she just sort of... Swallows, and offers a series of nods. It takes her a while to answer. She likes to prepare what she says, apparently, with a high degree of scrutiny. "Yeah, I did. On both accounts. Figured it'd probably be easier if I was on my own for a bit, at least in the... Going around and stopping bad things from happening field."

Miss America has posed:
    Warrants investigation. That is a good way to put it. For now, America just feels the softness of Raven's body against the relative hardness of her own, feeling the silken shift of her locks between those rough fingers as she sifts them towards the back of Raven's scalp, pressing them quietly but firmly against the point where her neck begins. Appreciating her without word, but with action.

    Action that eventually brings her to wordlessly dip her head as Raven struggles to find her words between her nods. At the last one, America's lips find the pale, former Titan's throat, feeling her pulse against the plush softness of her mouth. She kisses there even as Raven speaks, winding her way down whatever stretch of Raven's neck might be exposed to the elements, arm squeezing securely around the goth girl's waist.

    But when Raven speaks, America is content to respond, lips uttering warm syllables against that pale neck for the briefest moments. "Nothing wrong with that. S'how I do things. Easier that way, sometimes." She considers, before pulling back just enough -- enough to let her forehead bump lightly against Raven's own, dark, intense eyes on Raven's. "Wouldn't mind pairing up, though. Not much for a permanent residence, either... but finding a place wouldn't be so bad. For us. If you wanted."

Raven has posed:
    Raven is trying to keep herself calm and collected, but it is getting more and more difficult. However, she's rising to the challenge, trying to play foil to America's overt affection with unresponsiveness. It is a dynamic that she considers cute, and to an outsider, it might even look like Raven is in control.

    After a moment of silence, forehead pressed to America's, Raven can only really consider it for so long before she simply answers in the only way she was ever really going to answer. Her consideration was less Yes versus No, but rather would it be appropriate- would it be okay- to say yes.

    "I think... I think it wouldn't be be bad at all. I'd... Like to do that."

Miss America has posed:
    It -is- cute; or at least, America seems to think so, if that faint smile that drifts across her lips is any indication. Small, but rare in its sincerity and lack of wry amusement. Maybe even affectionate, in that subdued way of hers, as she patiently waits for the other girl's answer.

    And when it comes? America takes it all in stride, as one might expect. No yelling in joy, and yet no disinterest, either; her smile just grows, edging at the corner of her lips as she quietly tilts Raven's head. Happy. Genuinely happy.

    "Good," she murmurs, voice scarcely a whisper that still carries across the roar of cheering crowds beneath them. "I would, too." And as she speaks, she slowly presses herself into Raven, gradually laying them both out on the flat edge of that screen -- unseen and unnoticed by the countless people below as her lips seek out Raven's anew.

    "Happy New Year, Rae."