14520/How to Make A Grown Cyclops Cry

How to Make A Grown Cyclops Cry
Date of Scene:	27 March 2023
Location:	Centennial Park - New Troy
Synopsis:	Just stuff happenin'.
Cast of Characters:	Meggan Puceanu, John Constantine

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Meggan Puceanu has posed:
People keep attacking Metropolis. For the most part, it's "people" as in "angry alien race" complaining about how the heroes of the city under Superman's banner stole their sweet roll. Err, sacred relic. They weren't even nice about it, trying to burn things down.

Meggan isn't particularly cool with Metropolis being attacked by its once a month worldwide-threat level invasion, partly because Zatanna technically works in the Halls of Justice. And because it pulls the spring-shod faerie away from Goth.. London... wherever she'd rather be. Probably New York, but the house and the grim stylings of Gotham suit John more, so there he is and there she goes.

"Not really sure what that bloke's problem is," she sighs, the only person except puppers wandering around barefoot through Centennial Park. The weather is barely warm enough to have grass of any sorts... but there's grass everywhere she's gone, a verdant swathe of it, clover and daisies poking their leaves up. 'Tis the season where energy explodes into the art of growth, and her hand resting on her hip, she pets the occasional leafless tree bough leaning her way, encouraging it to bud without really trying. Give it a few days, this section of the park will be further along than the rest. It's an elemental thing. "Why hasn't anyone bothered? Is it all because of President Luthor fussing or some such?" Her golden hair hangs down her back, desperately in need of a proper braiding, all wild tiny curls and strewn with a few bluebells and crocuses. Because flowers like you do. "He's going to come back and try to steal the flame again, I just know it. That big one-eyed bully pushin' everyone around. Mmm, save Superman. I don't think anyone really pushes him, do they? Or is it a consent to be pushed thing? You're so much clearer on the finer points. Anyways, this bloke with a big old eye shows up, makes a whole crowd mesmerized without even waving his hand or saying 'Presto'. He's much less good looking than Zee in fishnets." She sighs dreamily. "I should try a pair of fishnets, shouldn't I? But it won't stop the problem of him comin' round and making us all into slaves with gruel for brains."

John Constantine has posed:
Truth be told, it isn't even that John likes Gotham more than New York City or London. If given the choice, he might move the whole family back across the pond. But the _House_ itself, the _House of Mystery_ like Gotham, and that has more weight than anything else as to where it's going to _stay_. John could force the issue, but why make an enemy out of his own home? No. Best to just live in Gotham. It's not like it limits his scope any, after all. John goes where John goes.

Right now, he goes where Meggan goes. He's walking alongside her, his jacket draped over one of his arms, shoes scuffing along the paved walkway while she takes detours to make the local greenery bloom. His sleeves are rolled up and his red tie is a little crumpled. John has been out all night, and now he's having a stroll with her, while his brain still functions before sleep takes over. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and glances at her.

"You stay away from Despero. His whole mind-whammy thing, you're susceptible to it more'n most. At least, more'n most super-people, anyway. Last thing I need is you kickin' my ass all over town. People'll call CPS on us." He winks at her. "You should get fishnets. though if you do, I request you and Zee model them together. For comparison's sake." He clears his throat and flashes her a grin.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The fact is Gotham is dark, gloomy, and suitable for London things. Like being gloomy and miserable, in the rain 380 days out of the year. It's possible, just ask anyone who lives there. Or has lived there.

Here, though, there is sunshine and abominably charming bright streets and such. No one is going to begrudge the towers for being so shiny.

She trails her fingers and hands wherever she likes, greeting twigs and branches, patting a bush for being able to endure the winter, dog walkers, and mostly the hurrahs of attacks by aliens. The oxygen she exudes as a habit turns the poison of John's smoke into pure air; useful, if he ever wants something to ignite and explode. Might burn her a little, but not by much. "You work too hard, luv, and I'm prone to telling no one else that." A reminder, as she winks at him. "I can't just stay away. They're getting /hurt/ and what am I supposed to do? Stand there and watch from afar?"

Her eyes glimmer, a shade so intensely green, it's the very definition of life and growth. "I wouldn't kick your ass. I don't want to kick anyone's ass," unlike the murderous silence of the winter, "when I can try to be diplomatic but he doesn't seem likely to want to talk."

John Constantine has posed:
"No, I don't expect you to stay silent and far away. I expect you to stay a reasonable distant and lob sharp vibranium spears at his eye from half a mile away or so," John says with a sharp guffaw. He reaches over and wraps his hand around her wrist, pulling her over as he curshes the remainder of his cigarette in his palm and lets it disintegrate in a short, brilliant burst of fire. He wraps his arms around Meggan's waist and brings her close to him, his forehead resting on hers and his brown eyes finding hers. Then he lowers his voice and murmurs, "I only work hard when you're around, luv."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Where am I to find a vibranium spear? I don't see a Panther round about here giving me one," Meggan laughs. "I don't know I could throw a mile off. Maybe that Lantern can? He just makes bits and bobs with light and force. I'm not sure what. I wonder he doesn't make a great big jelly square and plonk it on Despero's head. Seems a right bit easier. Make it so the bother can't see out at all. I mean, pokin' his eye is obviously the way to go. Just a problem of being spotted or caught in his ugly web."

John's whereabouts is a thing she instinctively tracks, be it through the smell of the Silk Cut or the sound of his gait, all of them gathered. "What, you slum it like every other working man when the boss isn't watching? Welcome to life, I think that's how it all goes. You don't miss the gutter life, do you?" The tease of a question follows her wrapping her arm around him. "Not plannin' on descending into Hell without me for a lark?"

John Constantine has posed:
"I'm sure Hal's tried that before. He's not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but he knows how to use that ring better'n anyone I've ever seen, side's maybe Stewart." John rests his hands on the small of her back and smiles at her. "Hell's got nothing on your heat, luv. If I want to burn, I just need to think of you." Isn't he a charmer? He says the nicest things to his wife. Leaning in to kiss her, he presses in tight and then pulls back a bit. "That said, I can see about maybe getting some vibranium and fashioning it. I'm sure the Avengers will be helpful if we just _ask_."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Hal isn't a wot now? A bright bulb? Why d'you say that?" Meggan sounds curious enough about that, her head tilted slightly as she tries to follow John's pattern of thought. "Is there practically anyone you don't know? You're like a magic heat map of people. And Stewart... I think I saw him once, but I dunno." Her smile turns up again; in this mood, everything is blithe and she's annoyingly perky, maybe. Endearingly sweet? Not prone to acts of wrath, at any rate, not until the summer dawns and the flames in her eyes would rival Apollo's. Still, she wraps her arms around his neck and leans in, smelling of flowers and daydreams. "I don't know the Avengers need to part with all that. I mean, it's more likely Captain America would show up and /that/ would be fine by me. He's real nice, I hear. Total stand-up gent. Absolutely nothing like us."

Her grin widens.

John Constantine has posed:
"It's just a professional ribbin', luv, Hal's a stand-up guy." John lifts a single hand up so push some of her unruly hair behind her ear, smiling at her. "so do you want to stick around here any more, or are we moving to another part of the park, so that you can keep being Poison Ivy but less murderous and beautiful?" He grins at her and leans in, kissing her one more time. "I'm serious about Despero."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"How am I supposed to know?" Oh, right, because the empath has no idea with the world's second best manipulator. Because she's not a telepath, that is indeed possible. Her smile widens and she presses her brow to John's. "I like Ivy. She's a bit much sometimes, but she doesn't mean badly. Usually. I think it hurts her to see how badly everyone mistreats the environment, and it sure does me. That's my /mum/." A sigh ripples out. "Very well, I'll stay from Despero and chuck rocks at him. Are /you/ gonna come kick him? Cos you know full well if you get silly, I can stop you from blowing us all up. I'll just wear bootie shorts and a tie."