9356/karen

karen
Date of Scene:	30 December 2021
Location:	The Moon
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Thaal Sinestro, Karen Starr

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Thaal Sinestro has posed:
Sometimes, space cops need time to rest and reflect, even when they're as driven as Thaal Sinestro.

Of course, it's only recently - within the last month or so - that the alien Lantern has taken to doing so in such close proximity to the planet he's spent nearly two years tethered to. Sometimes, he explores the myriad caverns hidden across, within the Moon; occasionally, he dares the ruined structures dotting the strange, airy region on other side of the Watchtower. Today, however, he's opted for simplicity: a jagged outcropping reaching several dozen feet above the lunar surface and plaintive, emerald eyes locked unerringly upon the Earth. A small green dome beside him keeps a plain, white, neatly folded bedsheet spread with simple - human - picnic fare from floating or freezing in the void.

Obviously, he's not the kind to drop pins or send out invitations to his alone time-- not that that would stop other part-time lunar denizens from clocking a glowing, uniformed extraterrestrial fixated on Earth, should any happen to be on-planetoid.

/Especially/ if said denizens happen to have particularly Powerful senses.

Karen Starr has posed:
    Karen Starr has stifled the low priority alert about six times now. The League monitors activity on the lunar surface, and Sinestro's presence is tripping one of their sensors. He's IDed, so the computer isn't labelling it as a threat, just something to take note of... Repeatedly.

    Eventually, it was going to get the better of her, and seeing as Monitor duty is detestably boring beyond all recognition... Well, instead of just using the communicator, Power Girl pulls up out of the chair in the room and is off, storming to the air lock and cutting a quick path on the surface of the Moon. It isn't any longer than a split second before she's floating in the air before Sinestro.

    Pointing at her comm for a moment, she starts speaking over it once she knows she has his attention. "I'm not sure if this isn't the saddest thing I've ever seen, but even so, it's pretty close. You're tripping an alarm out here, making Monitor duty insufferable /and/ boring."

Thaal Sinestro has posed:
It isn't any longer than a split second before six feet and seven inches of lean muscle bristles taut just beneath precisely patterned, ever-glowing green and black.

The closest he comes to indicating his attention at first is a brief, side-long glance. It is closely followed by a bite of brown mustard-spiked egg salad on white. Seated at the edge of the outcropping's flattened top, he's got one leg dangling and the other drawing towards his chest, ring hand casually draped across the knee.

"Seven billion people live on Earth," emanates through the comm unit while the ring pulses rhythmically. "How many of them do you imagine are... exceptional," falls from Sinestro's lips and into the comm frequency like he's struggling with the taste of it, "in some way? A hundred thousand? Two? Three?"

Without waiting for an answer, the alien Lantern finally turns his head and his radiant gaze towards the alien Leaguer so that he can ask one more question:

"How many do you imagine live among the populations of other worlds?"

Turning away once more, Sinestro takes another bite, chews, and swallows.

"Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous in assuming that you've expended much, if any energy towards considering such matters; given that the idea of turning the alarm off never occurred to you, I am willing to believe that imagination is in fact of minimal interest to you."

Once his eyes are back on Karen, he concludes, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your personal attention, Power Girl?"

At no point does his tone waver from sounding as if he's already exhausted with this conversation-- AKA, his default.

Karen Starr has posed:
    Arms folded, Karen has been done with this conversation before it started. This is typical. Her expression remains deeply stony, and doesn't seem to perk up at all during Sinestro's rhetoric.

    She takes a moment to look at the Earth itself, the gaze of her baby-blue eyes lingering on the pale sphere for a time. "All of them." she responds, after a moment. "Sure, some of them are incredibly poor in one or more respects, but they are /all/ exceptional in some way. That's one of the reasons we help them. Ordinary is a myth." she notes, before raising a brow at the second question. "Answer stands for those worlds, too. We just don't get the time."

    That raised brow remains, but with all the rest of her entire demeanor, it's not looking friendly. She's already not fond of Lanterns- and that's the kind of questioning that she's heard before. "I'll forgive what I feel like forgiving, thanks. I have something of a thing for holding grudges against particularly pompous displays of feigned superiority, so I would cut it, if I were you." She lets that linger for just a moment.

    "The alert doesn't /turn/ off. You just suppress them for a bit. I did so several times, before coming out to your little pity party here. I came personally because otherwise there's nothing to /do/ on Monitor duty. To ask if this..." she waves a hand, gesturing to the whole of Sinestro's pensive setup, "Is going to last much longer."

Thaal Sinestro has posed:
"I think you'll find that I am not particularly interested in who does or does not wish to hold grudges with me, so long as they do not impede my duties."

(Hopefully, Karen's willing to forgive the small smile that briefly touches his lips.)

"Perhaps your ire would be better saved for whomever thought it wise to program the Monitor Womb's alarms to respond persistently post-friendly IFF verification," Sinestro offers with a conspicuously roving eye to study the Kryptonian. Despite Karen's distinctly unfriendly demeanor, the alien Lantern's frame begins to slacken as tense muscles unwind. It's just a conversation, after all.

They're on the same side, after all.

"I have served Monitor duty. My ring can easily sync with the Watchtower from this distance," Thaal lists off, almost as if trying to get a headstart on the World's Weirdest Flex '22 ballot--

"You may sit in the Monitor Womb if you wish, bored and meditating on the question of just how long that cursed alarm will vex you;"

As his eyes turn back towards the planet, his picnic dome glides along the rocky surface until there's enough space beside him for a broad, sweeping gesture.

"or you may join me," he concludes, "so that I might interrogate your stubborn, saccharine refusal to engage with the obvious premise of my question."

It probably doesn't take Super Hearing to catch the dip in his volume, the gradual rounding of his voice as if it's being wrapped -- for now -- in silk to soften its edge... but it certainly doesn't hurt.

"Perhaps you'll even manage to speed your durance along, by taking your fate in hand," he suggests with a brief, sideways glance and an arched brow while his own hand falls across his knee once more.

Karen Starr has posed:
    "Oh yeah, your duties, as in the things you're not doing, right now." she notes, looking around at the empty surface of the moon for a few moments. "Certainly, I'll be getting after them as well, but they're not really available to fix the problem of you. It'd be great if a Lantern could be mildly useful, for once, and fix that problem yourself."

    Hostile as always, Karen isn't exactly trying to be witty. Instead, she's just abrasive. "I don't really /care/ for the premise of your question. It's dripping with superiority. Not the kind of attitude that I want to engage with- and definitely not the kind of attitude that belongs in the League."

    That said and done, she floats slowly to take a position nearer to the moonbase of the Justice League itself. "Frankly, I'd rather engage with the alarm." Her tone hasn't softened at all. Hell, it's almost like when Sinestro softened the edge of his voice, Power Girl's got altogether more uptight. She's not fond of Lanterns at all- that much is pretty obvious.

    It's hard to tell, but Sinestro's losing a popularity battle with Hal Jordan. Luckily, it's well known that all of the Kryptonians met with the Guardians themselves. So, you know, he's still got a ways down the list to go and some stiff competition on the way.

Thaal Sinestro has posed:
"Ah," Sinestro exhales once Power Girl's floating towards the Watchtower. "Then you didn't understand it; of course."

And while he says this in the plain, matter of fact fashion in which one might state the color of the sky, it's entirely devoid of judgment.

"Or perhaps you're simply unwilling to try." For his part, Sinestro takes a slow, deep breath before standing -- floating -- and drifting slightly towards the Kryptonian. "To be 'exceptional' is to be burdened with great and terrible purpose, whether one desires it or not. It is being cursed to leave deep marks upon one's surroundings, no matter how lightly one treads-- and blessed with the opportunity to shape one's fate in ways that few are ever privileged to. On a world like mine, like countless others... such individuals are exceedingly rare; they are generational occurrences at best. On others, they are their worlds, for all intents -- and so the universe itself is made to reckon with great and terrible purpose writ large."

Here, Sinestro pauses long enough to level a pointed look and arched brow upon Karen while his hands loosely clasp behind his back.

"One of the many things that I find fascinating about Earth is that it finds itself between these extremes in a way that few -- if any -- worlds ever do," he evenly continues while pulling up beside Karen. "By all rights, your world -- a world of deeply, arbitrarily drawn tribal lines and ancient conflicts -- should be a maelstrom of violence and chaos at best; smoking nothing at worst. And yet, despite a distinct lack of stewards willing to steer this fractious ship with clear-eyed, iron-fisted order, it remains whole. Safe, more or less; teeming with extraordinary potential."

The magenta man exhales, slowly; takes a beat to catch his breath while keeping an eye turned towards Karen. The sandwich floats a few feet behind him, bound to the ring by a sinewy green tether; the rest of the picnic lies abandoned, for the moment. Probably, it'll be safe out here on the Moon; the Justice League's on the scene, after all.

"I find it laudable," he concludes, soft and sincere -- and no less loud and clear, thanks to Oan light translating itself into comm signals. "Enough to give my time to the League, when I can spare it -- enough to steal what precious moments I can find to breathe between disasters for marveling at the sheer, absurd wonder of what Earth is-- what it can be."

Another breath, once that's said -- less because he's run himself out through sheer volume of speech (this time), more because this close to a million exploding suns with a chip on her shoulder, his next thought is a heavy one indeed:

"The Guardians of the Universe believed Krypton to be an existential threat to order, and still mistrust its survivors terribly; I have always found their orthodoxy in the matter to be deeply flawed-- a stubborn, arrogant refusal to consider the extraordinary, even amongst the chronically exceptional. Superman alone is proof of the fallacy, much less..."

Another pointed look. Another arching brow.

"The others."

A compliment, after a fashion.