glam, meet your new best friend

[mrglam]

With Armsmaster's death, Miss Militia is promoted to team captain. Even with the losses, however, the Protectorate ENE doesn't get new capes - all teams got hit hard by the last Endbringer attack, and even though it was by all accounts a major victory, it did not cause capes to start lining up to join.

Days pass, and winter hits Brockton Bay. It's pretty mild, as winters go, but it's enough to drastically reduce criminal activity. The heroes have an altercation with white supremacists the following week, but nothing much comes of it, as cape muscle seems to prefer to remain comfortable inside. Capes nationwide are somewhat subdued, perhaps as the aftermath of the victory against Behemoth. Nothing much seems to change, however - the Simurgh continues to fly around in her unpredictable pattern, Leviathan continues to be impossible to locate, lurking in the depths of the ocean. The public gets hopelessly contradictory information about what really happened during the fight from unofficial sources, secretly fed from official ones to make sure people don't jump to the right conclusions, and the topic loses its momentum.

And all of this completely fails to distract Sadde, who seems to not be getting better from the post-battle funk. Or, at least, not straightforwardly better. The depression and fatalism turn - maybe not completely, but at least a bit - into unease and anxiety, or perhaps stir craziness. It is, after all, true that, other than for class, Sadde doesn't really leave HQ a whole lot, not since they reached the comfortable position of being able to patrol from the comfort of the console - of, in fact, being more effective when doing that, for the average uneventful patrol.

Fatalism, depression, anxiety, and unease, all combined into a Sadde-shaped ball, are currently floating upside down in Lorica's workshop, failing to read a book while she fugues.

Comments

[thinkering]

"Love you too."

[msglam]

"Did you write about me on your notebooks?" she wonders.

[thinkering]

"Yeah, of course."

[msglam]

"I'm weirdly pleased about this even though it occurs to me you probably write about everyone."

[thinkering]

"I mean, I spend more time thinking about you than most people."

[msglam]

"Well, yeah, but like you said, thoughts are slippery, and it feels all warm and fuzzy that there's physical evidence to them somewhere."

[thinkering]

"Yes, there is."

[msglam]

"So I will never fall into the abyss of forgetfulness, left to rot and be picked at by the vultures of memory."

[thinkering]

"What an odd mental image."

[msglam]

She giggles. "Somewhat, yes."

[thinkering]

"But yeah, ciphered notebooks, computer records."

[msglam]

"Of course you cipher your notebooks."

[thinkering]

"Started when I found out who Dad was."

[msglam]

"Ah, yeah, makes sense. Is it a constant cipher?"

[thinkering]

"I do not make a habit of sharing my cipher's traits. With anyone, ever."

[msglam]

"...right, sorry."

[thinkering]

"It's okay."

[msglam]

...and she has quite run out of things to say, and is feeling awkward, and why is she feeling awkward, it shouldn't feel awkward to not have things to say sometimes, it almost never does.

[thinkering]

Lorica ruffles her hair. "I think I'll go get some work done."

[msglam]

"And I'll read stuff," she says, waving her phone.

[thinkering]

Pat pat.

Off goes Lorica.

[msglam]

So she goes flop on her bed and unlocks her phone and-

-texts Chelsea. 'Morning.

[hold_dear]

A moment's delay, a moment's anxiety about whether she'll answer -

Good morning!

[msglam]

Yes, good, okay. Everything's fine.

How're you today?

[hold_dear]

I'm okay, kind of at a loose end though. You?