643/Log

Log
Date of Scene:	28 May 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Superwoman, Superman

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Superwoman has posed:
    Since the "creation" of Superwoman, Faora has been working almost non-stop in the superheroing business. Her uniform of black, silver, and white has become an icon in the city- her own symbol, unlike the S on Superman's chest starting to show on apparel even. The House of Hu-Ul, reborn in its own way.

    Today, though, Faora is in civilian clothing waiting on one Clark Kent. A meeting to get her 'Earth legs' started in earnest. To find somewhere to fit in with the people of Earth- to be a member of the society. A secret identity. She's made some small attempts in her own way, but she clearly needs help.

    She's wearing clothing typical of an Earth female- she's tall for an Earthling, standing at six feet. She's wearing a pair of jeans that cling to her form, a crop-top shirt that shows off the flesh of her stomach just slightly. A pair of sneakers on her feet- she looks fairly human.

Superman has posed:
Looking like just another face in the crowd, Clark makes his way to their pre-arranged meeting place. He's running a few minutes behind. (There was a sudden gas explosion in rural South Dakota.) But he arrives, dressed casually for Clark: button up flannel whose sleeves are rolled and is tucked into jeans, and some sturdy work boots.

"Hi," he says as he makes his way over. "Sorry I'm late.

Superwoman has posed:
    "It is understandable." Faora replies, "Our abilities are in demand." she notes quietly. "You wear those things on your face, why?" she asks, noting his glasses. Eyebrows raised slightly. "Should I be wearing something on my face?" she says, taking a slow inhale. "I require your aid, Clark Kent. I do not know how to... blend in."

Superman has posed:
It looks like habit, the way Clark brings a hand up to press the frames a bit higher on the bridge of his nose. This as his brows rise so that when his hand is gone and his brow drop back toe nomrla the glasses are more or less where they were before.

"Number of reasons. I used to hve a hard time controlling my gaze when I was younger. The lead int he glass helped. Now it's... habit." he says just as softly, lips hardly moving as he falls into step by Faora, hands in his pockets.

"Let's go get coffee" he says to her in a nirmal tone.

Superwoman has posed:
    "Very well. Coffee." Faora says, "You should call me Damaris Duval." she says next as she waits for Clark, "Where is coffee?" she asks next, "Will this coffee be helping us in creating this... identity?"

Superman has posed:
"Usually, we would just call each other by one of the names. WHich one depends on level of familiarity," Clark explains, leading the way to a place he knows. He blames Lois.

"Close friends or family may take your given name, Damaris, and shorten it or change it somehow to show comfort and affection. Most will like just call you Damaris. In formal settings, the surname gets used, Ms. Duval," he does his best to explain something that's as easy as breathing.

Superwoman has posed:
    "I see." Damaris offers quietly. "Very interesting." she offers, "That much I knew, though." she notes, "Your files on human interaction were very complete. I have studied them all." she says next as she lets Clark guide the way. "I will need a more permanent identity, though. Birth certificate. Social security number. License. Can you help with this, Clark?"

Superman has posed:
"I'm pretty sure. Sorry for already talking to you abuout things you knew," he says, holding the door to the coffee shop open for her when they arrive.

Superwoman has posed:
    "Quite alright. You don't know what I know." Faora says with a nod, as she steps into the coffee shop. "How do we set this forward, Clark?" she wonders. "How can you create a person from nothing? I mean, even this world isn't so behind in technology to make that an easy task." she sighs, her English still carries that odd, slightly European accent. A kryptonian Accent- something, perhaps, of her own genetic heritage as a soldier.

Superman has posed:
"I know the concept behind what it takes, but I was going to ask a friend to help. I try not the think about how he does what he does, but he can set it all up," Clark answers, face serious despite the light and airy absolute faith he seems to have in this friend.

Superwoman has posed:
    "I see. So, I imagine, there will be an entire history I will need to memorize." Faora says with a quiet sigh, "How will your friend do this, I wonder. How will my... history be formalized? There would have to be people- childhood friends, family. How does this friend plan to overcome this?" she's talking, perhaps, more to herself. "Its not an easy thing to create a life. I've worked in security, Clark, it'll have to be flawless to get by."

Superman has posed:
"Sometimes the best stories are the simpliest, Damaris," Clark notes softly before smiling at the barista and ordering something with more sugar in it thatn should be considered healthy for anyone.

Superwoman has posed:
    Damaris, on the other hand, orders something else. "Coffee." she says simply, "No sugar. No milk." Just a black coffee. "That is not how people work, Clark. You're a reporter- tell me, would you not dig into something you thought was a little unusual? Its easy for you. You have history. Life. Parents." she notes quietly as she looks to Clark still, quiet. "How well would a simple story work here?"

Superman has posed:
"If there's nothing unusual in the surface story and there's no reason to dig deeper? It'd hold up fairly well. The only reason I know how to spot fakes is because of the times there's something unusual," Clark retorts lightly, softly, as he pays for both coffees.

Superwoman has posed:
    "I don't know very much about humanity, Clark. I won't fit in at first." Faora notes, "There will be reasons to look close. I won't be able to blend in flawlessly, not for a while. Its going to take time. And that initial time is a danger- to me, and to everyone else... I've met at least one of your enemies, and I have no doubt they would use any method to get to you. Including me, or those close to me."

    "Anyways, I don't fit in during social situations. I never have." Faora says with a little smile.

Superman has posed:
Coffee in hand, Clark leads Faora to a small table by the window.

"THat's the great thing about humans, Faora. There are so many different ways for them. A lot of u- humans don't feel like they fit into social situations either. There's plenty of ways to just sit back and watch them interacting with each other, and you can take your cues from that."

Superwoman has posed:
    To the table they go, and Faora sits quietly. "Damaris." she corrects Clark. "I am Damaris." she notes, "Its things like that, Clark, that blow someone's cover in a mission like this. I've infiltrated before." she takes another slow breath, "Although, this is very much a different kind of thing." she notes softly. "Its... a very different kind of thing."

Superman has posed:
"Ah! Sorry." Clark is quick to say, hand coming up. "But that could be one of those nick name sort of things? Which might be a stretch. I'll be better about it. Sorry." He adds, sipping his coffee now and glancing out the window as a far off gunshot... firing range, no trouble. And back to Damaris.

"You know I am willing to do anything, everything I can to help you through this."

Superwoman has posed:
    "Yes, everything you've shown so far supports that you will do exactly that, Clark." Damaris replies with a quiet smile, hiding it with a sip of her coffee. "What about a job?" she wonders next, sitting tall and proud in the location she's in. Her shoulders are straight. She seems military, even now- stiff and disciplined. It really is no wonder she hasn't had much trouble commanding her powers- control is a vital part of her being.

    "You heard the gun. A .357 shooting .38's. Old police revolver." Faora's focus on weapons. "It is a most unusual and primitive form of weaponry. Quite barbaric."

Superman has posed:
There's a warm chuckle from Clark, not hiding it at all.

"Guilty as charged," he quips, taking a sips now.

"Well.. you can go with something as close to what you are used to or.. you can try to find something different, try something different. You'll mess up, no doubt, more than once but... you won't know unless you try." As the talk goe to guns, Clark glances toward the shooting range again, looking over his lenses before looking back at Damaris.

"Effective enough to do with it needs to."

Superwoman has posed:
    "Quite." Damaris notes. "What about my skills, though? What use are my skills for work. I can not survive on your charity alone." she notes, "I can't ask you to do more than you have. I must begin to work. To build a life." she sighs, "I somehow don't think that a soldier like myself would make a good reporter, though."

Superman has posed:
"There are more job opportunities than just reporting. There's private security. There's police force. There's a bouncer at a bar. Or you could try to learn something new, like... go be a waitress. If you want to see how to intereaction, if that's when you want to work on? Anything customer serivce: waitress, cashier... Most are entry level and don't nee past experience."

Superwoman has posed:
    Damaris stares at Clark for a long time. Her face is totally flat- but then a smile breaks and she starts to laugh. Its a musical sound. She laughs, "Me? A waitress? A cashier?" she laughs again, shaking her head, "Oh, Clark. That's just precious, really. The first time some idiot disrespected me, I'd have them mewling in pain. No, that's a pathway to failure here." she shakes her head, still grinning. "Anyways. I'm a graduate of the finest military academy to ever exist. Even things outside its focus were taught- science, of course, over all."

Superman has posed:
Clark meets Faora's gaze and for a long moment, he's worried that she's going to sonic punch him to New Jersery. And then she's laughing. He's not sure he's ever heard her laugh before. It's a beautiful soung and the warmth it gives her face makes him happy.

"So, bounce at a bar, then?" Because it sounded less serious than anythign else.

Superwoman has posed:
    "Perhaps. That has some merit- however, my strength there would be a disadvantage." Damaris replies with a smile. "It would be a sign. Something to bring attention." she takes a slow breath, quiet. "It would be a tactical blunder." she notes. "I have to teach you to think tactically, Kent." she falls to his last name, as if that was more comfortable. "You'll need it." she takes a slow breath. "Security, maybe. I could, I suppose, help with security. Shoring it up in various locations."

Superman has posed:
"That's the idea. Mall cop, maybe?" Clark offers, because suddenly the idea of Faora on a segueway is amusing.

Superwoman has posed:
    "I was thinking something larger, Kent." Damaris replies. "Security for people. Or, perhaps for businesses. Not in person, though. It would represent an error. Dangerous." She tents her fingers, leans back on her chair a bit as she takes a slow breath, quiet. "Its not an easy thing to figure out, Clark." she sighs, still a smile, albeit a sad smile. "I'm not sure what I can do on this planet. I was bred to be a soldier. A fighter."

Superman has posed:
"That's the beauty of this world. You can almost be anyone you want. Is there anything you wish you could have tried, if you didn't have to be a soldier?" Clark asks, leaning a bit over his coffee.

Superwoman has posed:
    Faora stares at Clark. Shaking her head slowly, its like he asked the most confusing of questions. "What?" She begins, "That isn't how things worked, Clark. We, even you, were engineered." she says, her voice low. "I am a soldier. I was born and bred to be a soldier. My father and mother never even had physical relations- their DNA was taken to form me, and then, I was engineered." she gives a little sigh, shaking her head. "I was raised, from birth, to be a soldier. You, Clark, would have been a scientist." she remarks, "Like your Mother and Father."

Superman has posed:
This is what makes Clark so sad, and his shoulders fall slightly, brows pulling together as he regards Faora.

"But I'm not a scientist. I'm knida good at it, sure. But I'm a reporter, and I help people."

Superwoman has posed:
    "You ask me to learn to live here, Clark." Damaris states, "To learn to live in an alien culture....." She sighs, "You don't know what its like. You've read stories, experienced holograms. You've seen so much of what we were, but, you've always had something that none of the rest of us have- you've always had a home. You know this place, and in this place there are very different rules. Very different expectations..." Damaris takes another measured breath, slow. She sips her coffee. "You are one of the finest scientific minds on this planet, like it or not, because you were engineered to be that way. I am engineered to be a soldier. To be a warrior.... and having grown up within certain cultural expectations, I find it difficult to slide into another. It'll be easier for Kara.. she's young. She doesn't have years and years behind her of living within our society. For me, though?" She shakes her head.

Superman has posed:
"YOu're right. I don't know what it's like, but.." Clark pauses, leaning again, hand sliding closer to hers on the taop table.

"The way you laughed? You should laugh like that often. So, I'm not going to give up hope on you...."

Superwoman has posed:
    Faora chuckles quietly, shaking her head still. "I don't have a lot to laugh about, Clark." she finishes her coffee and stands quietly- removing herself from the possibility of physical contact. "I appreciate it, Clark. We'll need to talk again. To.. get things moving. I'm not able to... I can't sit still. And.." she looks off to the distance. "It sounds like Superwoman is needed."