3373/Lady in the Lighthouse

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Lady in the Lighthouse
Date of Scene: 15 September 2020
Location: Cape Carmine Lighthouse
Synopsis: No description
Cast of Characters: Meggan Puceanu, Phoebe Beacon




Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The sea fights a war against terrestrial cares without weapons, at least conventional ones. Surf streams against the cement piers and floating wooden wharves coated in barnacles. Waves heave themselves endlessly against the undulating coastline of Gotham's outer strands, where islands fade into broken parcels of land and ultimately to nothing. Cape Carmine represents the confluence of city and nature, within reach of the major shipping lanes to warrant a good deal of traffic, but at a remove.

The ragged woodlands on the cliffs aren't for show and neither is a stony spit reaching out into the Atlantic without purpose. Historically there lies a need for the lighthouse to guard ships headed in and out of the city, to rescue the sailors caught up in treacherous shoals and currents. Very pretty by evening, though, as the darkening sky fades from gold into deepened violet, the last light of the sun long lost. Not that it matters much. The Fresnel lenses of the great beacon burn miles out to sea, already swiveling and flashing their storied, mute song about security and safety.

And so there is Meggan, sitting upon a great block used to anchor the lighthouse's isle to the mainland. No seaweed there, though one appraising sea otter lies on its back munching on a tasty oyster. She has her hair streaming free, and there is a metric ton of it, gold and silver threads raging on the sea breezes Galadriel-style. In terms of being hard to find, well.

She literally has a flashing light overhead.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe hadn't been able to shake the feeling that she had when she had briefly changed meeting the girl. She had recognized her face (her own blog in fact was on the aggregate of articles championed by an activist like Meggan), and so out here, in the cold Gotham night, the young woman made her way along the road on foot. She came without any sort of armoring (Tim would be so disappointed, she knew, that and she struck out on her own again!), but the impatient, impetuous 16-year-old Gothamite lifted her dark eyes to the towering light overhead.

    "One Beacon to another, huh?" she asks of the lighthouse, and she makes her way down to the massive blocks that stoicly stand against the sea, searching for Meggan.

    ... who is sitting by the sea, hair catching in the breeze. Phoebe, her hair still up in its bantu knots, takes a deep breath.

    ... so hard to approach new people when you have a question you don't know how to pose.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Easy to recognize the high-boned face, the unusual distillation of hair colour that's as much Meggan's calling card as getting in the face of Roxxon and countless other corporate interests. She isn't wearing boots or shoes, her feet dangling in the water that heaves up to meet the breakwater and slips away in an emerald wrack turned to bleak obsidian by night. Silvery banners chase around her feet, and the fading summer night hardly confines her much to humming and splashing a handful of water back at the opportunistic sea otter.

"You can't tell me that tastes so good. I don't believe it. Oysters Rockefeller? Not a chance." Her English tone is low and affectionate, anyway, hardly concerning. Withdrawn from the task of watching that delightful creature have his breakfast (dinner?), she turns her head.

Somewhere up the way, perhaps.

How do you explain yourself? How indeed. "Hello!" she waves.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Sea otters are larger than you imagine when you encounter one the first time. Friendly looking, though.

    Phoebe gives a slight, surprised wave, and realizes that her flashlight was on. She gives a huff, and then turning it off, and zipping her jacket up (showing the Gotham U Rogues insignia!), the dark young woman calls back down. "If I'm interrupting something, it's totally fine to tell me to buzz off. I won't be the least bit offended!"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Sea otters can be large as a person, surprisingly enough. All that fur makes them extra buoyant, too. Pretty things, understandably charismatic and hunting almost to ruin. Well, as that may be, this one munches on tasty raw shellfish while chortling to itself.

No explanation, really, except that it floats there on the surface on its back, bobbed around. Webbed feet can keep it from colliding with the big blocks. Looking back to the side, Meggan watches the path in silvery lines of pale gravel and stones show up. She offers a curve of a smile even deeper. "I hope I didn't startle you!" chimes in the blonde, her hands coming together. Leaning back a little off the stones, she isn't rising quite yet. "Oh, interrupting? Never, we like having company out here. Birds and otters and fish aren't much for deeper conversation, you know?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I wouldn't know. I didn't think Sea Otters lived in Jersey..." Phoebe states, and she makes her way down, and then, taking a deep breath she tilts her head back, and then inquires:

    "This is going to sound absolutely bonkers, but, you were at the Cobblepot gala last night, right? With Dick Grayson?" she asks, and she just seats herself down, giving a respectful amount of distance, her watch torn between the Elvish woman and the otter.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Aye, not so much but they come down now and then if the water is right," explains Meg, gesturing out to the sea. "Everything out there is so jumbled up they have trouble finding food or their way around. Unfortunate state of things to have it burning in the summer and thunderstorming in the middle of November." But holding back from winding up to a rather complex creed, she takes in a breath and releases it for a long, low moment. "Sorry, I get passionate about such things and then gab on more than I should."

With that self-effacing smile bright as the lighthouse flashing its steady beams over the seconds, she pulls her feet out from the water but hasn't come to stand yet. Phoebe has the height advantage. This hardly bothers the English rose. "Oh! Were you there too? Yes, I helped carry that unfortunate woman with the poorly chosen dress out to her car. Rather sorry blip in the evening, but I was also there with Mr. Grayson and Mr. Wayne. Quite a number of others but they're not so well-known to me. Not in the same way."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Oh no, I'm totally with it. You can dredge the rivers in Gotham and come up with the most extraordinarily disgusting refuse, the cosmetics and chemical companies lobby harder and harder every year to relax environmental protections and really, all it does it make people made enough to do desperate things and not that you would do anything like Poison Ivy, I mean I repost your stuff all the time on my Hash-tag Gotham Hope blo--" she begins, stammering a moment as she looks to Meggan again, and then she rubs the back of her head.

    "Yeah... Rose is a bit... intense, but sounds like things sorted themselves out. Probably won't be able to crash their party next time with my being seen in the offending lady's company." she jokes, rubbing the back of her head.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Let's not," agrees Meggan with a firm nod. "The chemicals and debris down there is nothing short of horrendous. Imagine what you could get with a geiger counter or a proper sort of chemical study. No, not at all. There was a cosmetics baron there, wasn't there? Roman?" She looks to Phoebe for some kind of confirmation on the matter, sliding her fingers around her bare knees and locking into place. "Oh, I've met Ivy. Rather different young woman, though she was perfecftly pleasant to me and truth be told, I have hardly a notion why other than perhaps we both dislike the state of things around here."

A bit of a smile brightens higher and she waves off any discomforted stammer, encouraging Phoebe to continue. "I know all about your hashtag! Happy news, /good/ news, comes out from your keyboard. How wonderful to have a brihter view of things. Not nearly enough do."

That said, she cocks her head slightly and brandishes that delighted tip of a smile like a weapon. Fire, really, not knowing better. "Rose? Was that the woman who she was insulting? I hope that wasn't the case!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I've not had the pleasure, I don't think she and I would see eye to eye on some things--" Phoebe trails off a moment, and she leans back against a rock.

    "-- you... you know about my blog? Well, I mean it's tough, but Gotham's my city, it's the only home I've ever known. It's nice to be able to feel good about some of the things being done, and to put some charities out there, too." she smiles, and then she realizes what she said.

    "Oh, yeah, she introduced herself. I'm loosely associated with Tim from mutual charity work. " she explains, and then she gives a huff a moment, and then rubs the back of her head.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan considers thoughtfully for a moment, her brows rising in a golden arc. "You mean Ivy or Rose? I suppose the two of them both have a daunting quality about them." It's the polite thing to say at least though she tries to manage the appropriate blend of words for the situation.

But enthuse? She can do that with a genuine delight. "Yes! I hardly forget to follow things online. Gotham is my home -- my adopted home, of course. You help to present a resident's view of the place. Yes, and not only that, but the stories that will not always come to the fore, you know? Not everyone shares that insight."

Crossing her heels slightly, she gives a brighter smile. "Oh, that's wonderful!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "YEah... but.. look Meggan... I came out here because..." she rubs the back of her head a moment, then purses her lips, and looks up.

    "... I really appreciate all the volunteer work and organization you bring out, getting people to care about the Big Picture, as it were." she states. A half truth, but not the whole reason she came out.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan's wide gaze reflects that warmth of a balefire, greener than green, though much diminished by the inevitable darkness. Except when the lighthouse's beam oscillates around, they are cast in the ephemeral night, lit to moonbeam brightness and then thrown down into the deepest ultramarine bordering on coal black. She pulls her bare feet up from the stone, putting both palms down to the blocky stone to push herself up.

Two moments and she bounces up on to the balls of her feet, unconcerned about the water-speckled t-shirt buffeted flat to her body by the endless breeze. "In your own time," she encourages without any rush, pushing her tangled golden hair off her brow. "Volunteering is important. Finding your cause and the one that interests you, that has a lot of power. It's satisfying."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The dark-haired young woman leans back a moment, peering out to the gray Atlantic. She takes a deep breath, and then rubs the back of her neck.

    She grips her left hand a moment, and from between her fingers just the glimmer of sunlight, brilliant blue-white light seeps through.

    "I had seen you standing with the Waynes. There was just... the oddest feeling, like cold water running the wrong way. Does that make any sense to you?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The blonde tilts her head. Empathy has its powerful beacon but she keeps it mostly pinned down, a dull roar in the ocean other than the sea otter out there bobbing in the darkness for his occasional dinner.

"Oh, I don't make any claims on the Waynes. Not on someone of that social class or money, considering the likes of me would... not improve it," Meggan changes the words at the last minute, but her smile is a soft, rueful thing. She may just be transparent as the shallows lapping at the white beach beyond.

Phoebe playing with the light does catch her gaze, the neon glow splitting the night and touching the quiet behind the eyes. Something older. In registers, of course.

Can they speak without talking, shape words without tones? Her mouth lifts higher at the corner. Gaze out to the water for a moment, she holds up her own hand. Fingers turn transparent, ebbing like the tumble of the sea, and the fine structure of her nails is still there, if completely translucent. "I have an idea of it, yes."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe shakes her head "I didn't mean it that way, I mean I met Dick once, but Tim's a friend--" she trails off a moment, looking on as Meggan turns her fingers transparent.

    Phoebe stops, her voice dying in her throat a moment, before she gives a gasp, then leans forward with her head on her knees.

    "Oh, thank goodness. Otherwise this was going to be a really awkward conversation."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Looks like water, acts like a flesh extremity, probably is wet and might smell like water if tested. Meggan wiggles her nose slightly in amusement and her skin returns in its alabaster cadence. "I thought it might be easier to answer obviously. Sometimes words are complicated and I'm not quite as good with them as others."

The warm shades slide back into place and she dips her head, looking at Phoebe. "Please don't think you were being upstaged. I promise, it's not like that at all."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "No, no, I mean, I felt just... something and I didn't want to try and explain 'oh hey bee-tee-dubs, by any chance did you feel like your limbs were falling asleep when I passed you by outta curiosity? Oooh no reason." Phoebe states, and she lets out a small bark of laughter.

    "I... don't know the first thing that I want to ask, but I suppose it's appropriate to first ask: do you wanna talk about it? If not--" she states, and gives a wince. "I'll go."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The articulated movements of her fingers being perfectly normal, Meggan pushes her hair back in a casual effort to resist the wind blowing it around. "Oh, the prickling needle sensation? Is that how it feels?" Lips rounded in definite curiosity mark the upticked brightness cast in a phosphorescent green shade. Then she breaks into a laugh. "I don't imagine you get to ask that sort of thing often. But it hardly bothers me any for you to ask your questions. Imagine both of us sitting here like cats on an uncomfortable sofa! Never."

A wave of her hand follows, kind as ever. "You can ask what you like. I am not likely as smart or good at discussing it as some people are. They're rightful wizards and such."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "So, are you a magic user, or like.. a magical person? Being? type... thing?" she ventures, drawing her legs up and setting her chin on her knees. Phoebe watches Meggan with interest, the two of them nearly opposite. Phoebe's cottony hair was dark, and carefully bound into those many knots, her eyes dark and curious. She draws her hoodie a little further around herself against the chill of the wind.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meg looks out to the sea for a moment, the thrashed waves roiling around the breakwater in currents of white lace. Churning shadows turn greyish in the wracked shallows, and the sea otter dives to find its bounties elsewhere as the young women talk. Hugging her midsection, she smiles. "I honestly don't quite know. Not a classical sort of wizard with a pointy blue hat and a magnificent robe. I don't own any spellbooks or have a wand, and I never took a train to a special school in the Highlands." A slow sigh has too much drama to be really all that troubled, too much television watching giving her the exact sort of flutter of Regency romances on the Beeb. "So it's all me, but a lot I could always do. Maybe that's a sort of power found innately in me. So many stories come out about how students get bullied or have an accident, and it all flares up in their school years."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... look, if it took taking a train to a school in the highlands, as long as the ridiculous kid with the vendetta didn't cause too much trouble, almost worth it." the other young woman replies with a wry smile.
    Phoebe leans back against a rock, and looks out to sea as she rubs the back of her head. "Is that how it is for you then? Just one day you had a bad day, and bam? Suddenly, powers?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan nods with distinct enthusiasm about that. "Almost worth it. That train's real, you know, very impressive and quite pretty. None of the train platforms look nearly so nice, though. I assure you, they run slow and frequently show up late. Nothing like Europe, or even the hyperloop here. Now if they could turn the hyperloop into a train looking that good..."

She trails off with a keen smile turning her lips up, sharing the moment with Phoebe. Then she gives a little laugh, unbothered by her hair waving like a Noldor banner on the wind. "Oh, nothing like that. I always have been this way, as I was saying. Never a time when I wasn't able to do something. Children and teens coming into the moment was always odd to me because I had always been able to. Not so well as now, but that's practice for you."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Oh -- oh I'm sorry, I misunderstood." Phoebe gives a small, embarrassed laugh, and she rubs the back of her head, shifting her weight.

    "... I've only been able to do this for the last couple of years... I'm still trying to figure things out. So any pointers you can give me would be great. There's only so much the 'self help magic' books can do."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
With a shake of her head, Meggan says, "Don't you apologize at all. You have nothing to worry about." A soothing grin joins that. "Everyone comes into it differently, don't they? I fear people don't want to speak of their abilities partly out of fear or being called out. The world might be a little better if we could avoid that." Thoughts left for others to parse through.

Nodding to Phoebe, the blonde listens intently and bubbles with delight. "You see, even that much is good. What exactly... oh, I never know how to broach this. Sometimes just plunging in comes out easier. What do you do?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Ah... I can summon a stick of solid light and heal recent injuries to myself and others? I mean, I've got this --" Phoebe looks awkward a moment, and she leans her head back.

    "I have like this aura. It makes people feel better. I'm a ray of sunshine, but it makes it hard to guess who's around me because they like me, or who's around me because they like the feeling I give off. Honestly, that part's a bit of a pain. But this?" she inquires, and she holds her hand out, palm up, and she lets a little ball of light blossom there, unfolding out of nothing, illuminating the two beneath the lighthouse.

    "... I saved someone's life with this. I can ease pain."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"That's wonderful." From anyone else it might just sound mealy-mouthed, but in Meg's case, it actually represents a certain modicum of delight. She clasps her hands together, the light clap being lost in the noise of the sea. It's never quiet this far into the water. "Healing and having your own stick. Is it a wand-like stick or something more olivy? Or maybe you hit people with it if you need? I can noly imagine. But that sense of goodness, the brightness, -that- makes sense to me."

She blows out air through her rounded lips and the bursting globes of light earn a laugh. "Beautiful, just beautiful. Something like that is precious, and you should hold it warmly to your heart. I feel a lot of light, though mine never heals. Sometimes I can calm someone upset or help them feel hope when all is lost. The other way applies too; maybe taking the same. Have you ever tried that?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Ah... mostly... hitting people with it. It comes about -- five and a half feet long? Ah -- not quite a meter and a half?" she states, and she blushes, before hiding her face. "That sounds so awful. I occasionally fight crime. I mean, Gotham." she states, as if the city's name explained it all. She gives a wry smile though.

    "So you can turn yourself watery-like and calm people down? That's pretty cool. Goes with the whole aetherial activist thing." she compliments, trying to stay conversational. "I've never tried to calm someone down with my powers, typically I have to warn them that it feels like your body's going numb and warm."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The appreciative nod indicates thanks for the metric system coming into play. Why Britain still uses bizarre weights and measures along with metric, no one knows. Meg shakes her head softly. "Hitting people with a bar of light is no different than shocking them with beams from their eyes or using a burning rope to catch them. Does it burn them?"

Going around Gotham as a crime-fighter gets a laugh. "I do something like that. Or I try to help. It's not my city by birth but I live here. Why not be helpful when others don't have the same means? The sea monsters that came up from Atlantis would not be the sort of issue as a criminal or a drug dealer, even if their motives feel the same. Take advantage of what's around, no regard for anyone else."

Combing her fingers through her golden hair, she throws her shoulders back and stretches to her full present height. "I turn myself to things, yes. Thus teaching you how to do such things might be harder because the light out there is always there. Like the colour blue. It's something I can see. Do you find it helpful to, ah, squint and try to pull into greater focus? Or do you push the light around?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "No, no there's no heat to it, though wouldn't that make morning toast easier?" Phoebe replies in a friendly tone, and she stretches her legs out, looking out to the sea, as if searching for those aforementioned sea monsters.

    "... no, sometimes the monsters in Gotham do it for spite. Or because they think it's funny. I've never met an animal that acts out of -- well, other than cats. But cats are weird." she comments thoughtfully, and then purses her lips again as she gives a slight grin.

    "I'm... not expecting a teacher. I mean, you say you've been able to do what you do since you were a kid. Me? Who knows." she gives a shrug, and then she tilts her head back.

    "It's more like... opening a door. Or a window. Or an apperature. It's there, it's always there."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
No sea monsters out there, but there may be reason for that. Anger of their king, perhaps, and an influence of a dreadfully violent battle possibly has something to do with it.

The petite tilt of her head throws her bangs down her face. "That's sometimes the way of it. Humans hurt one another. Monsters hurt us. Differences between the two may be considerably fewer than meets the eye, as much as it pains me to say." The faded glimmer of light in her eyes won't brighten much. Meggan strokes her cheekbone and fades off to a muted smile.

"Cats aren't that weird when you get to know them. Wasps, though? I am not convinced wasps are anything but terrible." Her huffed breath comes out as a light laugh. "They have a place in the ecosystem, but better fewer of them and more ladybirds and worms. Oh, the poor worms. Collapsing insect populations are just another thing to worry about, and not one I can do much about. Maybe here, but I doubt Mayor March is going to do anything about that no matter how many nicely worded letters end up in his inbox. And no, not presuming to tell you how to do anything, but you mentioned self-help guides. I know of a few things about, or rather /people/, and they sometimes talk about what they can do."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Pretty sure unless your last name shows up on his top ten donors, the mayor doesn't listen to you regardless." Phoebe gives a rueful smile, and then takes a breath as she hops back to her feet.

    "And anyone who can maybe point me in the right direction would be great. Ah -- here." she pauses, and goes tapping around her body, and pulls out a little wallet that's been duct taped so many times that the leather is hardly able to be seen. She extracts a business card, and holds it out to Meggan.

    It contains: 'Phoebe Beacon - Gotham Hope Blog' @GothamHope - and a regular ol' Email address. No actual address information.

    It /is/ Gotham, after all.

    "I should be getting back. I have a late shift tonight."