Owner	Pose
Thaal Sinestro	It is not so uncommon for Sinestro to utilize the Justice League's comms in his semi-unique way: now and then, he checks in for available assistance in managing the sorts of threats that tend to blur together into a loud, absurd haze in between the bigger crises; sometimes, he even reaches out to see if other members are in need of assistance, due to his own patrol being light. But when motes of Oan energy crackle out of the human-visible range, becoming digitized information flowing into a comm unit-- "I would like to meet, at your earliest convenience. I wish to give you a gift." -- ought to be the ''last'' thing anyone who's met Thaal Sinestro ought to expect, even someone as optimistic as Clark. Rather than somewhere in Metropolis, his chosen rendezvous is in Lunar orbit-- and whenever the Man of Steel arrives, he'll find the Lantern waiting in a solid sphere of emerald light, seated in a captain's chair and surrounded by enough monitors and mechanisms to approximate a functional two-person travel pod. Ripples shudder along its surface momentarily, then a hatch draws itself open on radiant hydraulics, inviting his fellow alien in. "I'm afraid that we've some ways to travel, Superman... but I shall endeavour to make the journey a swift one," flows through the comm, as toneless as ever.
Clark Kent	It's not weird! Sinestro's a swell guy! It's a little weird. And Clark's a little jumpy around Lanterns, even ones he likes like Hal and Thaal. But Superman considers that ultimately this is a fellow hero reaching out, not unlike Batman's occasional eccentric shows of affection, and it'd be cruel not to play along. The other option is to allow fear and pain to dictate his actions and Superman scowls at the fact that he even gave such an option consideration. Besides, free stuff. Superman almost, almost laughs at just how serious Sinestro's little travel pod is. Oh gosh he even has leather padding for the captain's chair that is adorable. "Sinestro." Clark says, instead, using Super Ventriloquism to get around the vacuum of space. "I have to say this is a surprise! I didn't know you had it in you." Clark winks, and hops into the green travel pod. "Good news is, I can fit an ipod in this belt. You like Ayraon, Thaal?"
Thaal Sinestro	"I am unfamiliar," the Lantern says as the pod seals itself shut. A beat later, the surface of the vessel shimmers, its makeup adapting on the fly to render it impenetrable to Kryptonian vision. The monitors flare to life, but for anyone who ''isn't'' currently wearing a device that runs on pure imagination, it's nothing but vibrant, solid-green screens. Clearly, he is a man who takes the art of surprise seriously. An aux port whirs into existence in the console set between their chairs; there's even a glowing cable, if by some chance Clark's belt had ''exactly'' enough room for the iPod. "But:" he continues as the craft glides into motion, "it is your birthday, several days removed; you may play what you wish." For the first few seconds, it's a smooth transition from zero on up-- and then, as if they've not only hit, but crashed straight through some wall holding their speed to reasonable limits, they '''explode''' into hyperlight speeds. Emerald safety straps weave themselves into being around Sinestro and Superman's chests, offering some protection against the hellacious forces that -- -- if one thinks about it -- -- he subjects them to entirely by choice. (Which might explain the small, taut smile that settles into place once the craft comes up to speed.) "It has been some time since we've last had an opportunity to speak like this!" he observes not long after that.
Clark Kent	Clark Kent says, "'it's a song about MAGIC dad you dont understand you just farm soybeans'"
Clark Kent	Superman smirks a little, and puts his music on. Not too loud for conversation, but he has no idea how loud this thing is going to be. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FEWUVQOs_s plays, which is just trippy enough for Superman to handle whatever space weirdness this is going to be. He's looking forward to it. It's been a while since this job was fun. G-forces. God, he's showing off. Superman nearly barks a laugh, but also: it's a fun ride. Honestly this could be the present; Clark so rarely gets to just enjoy flying, especially as a passenger. Usually there's some idiot in a power suit trying to set him on fire. The bond with Hal makes sense, now, all of a sudden, and the Man of Steel barks a laugh at the thought. "It's been busy." Superman agrees, "The usual stuff, and I've been trying to improve the League's working relationship with the Avengers. I had a beer with Captain America, apparently there's some space tyrant everyone's in a huff about." Superman considers asking but decides this isn't a work trip. "Has everything calmed down on your end?"
Thaal Sinestro	"I have learned that there is no such thing as 'calm' on your world; there are merely ebbs and flows," Sinestro evenly states. "Another unauthorized ring has found its way to Earth, this time to a telemarketer; I have taken it upon myself to train her, as best as I can. Advanced Idea Mechanics has piqued my interest, but I've yet to home in on anything of real interest. Jordan and Wonder Woman's attempts at locating your missing Doctor Fate continue apace, per the briefings-- but I have not had an opportunity to assist in their efforts since it was first determined that Fate had been compromised." For a moment, Sinestro reclines in his G-force embrace, gloved hands tightening around the control wheel. Even for a man as given to long, dour faces as he is, the creases that stretch across his brow are notable. "There was a man," he eventually begins, lower than before, "who the pretender Fate that had been leading Jordan and the Princess by their noses summoned to assist him, once his ruse was discovered. Hair as black as midnight; blue eyes seething with unchecked madness; a symphony of muscles rippling beneath a field of red and blue." Radiant, green eyes have, by now, found a sidelong angle on the Man of Steel. "'Ultraman', he called himself. A fool, through and through-- a rampaging bull that thought himself a man. A pretender in his own right." Once his eyes have returned to the monitor, Sinestro continues: "Since my arrival on your world, I have found you to be an anomaly, Superman-- even beyond what lies in your genetic makeup. There are few alive - on Earth, or abroad - who possess the sheer wealth, the /range/ of power that you do, yet make wielding it selflessly appear effortless." The alien Lantern takes a beat to flip a switch here, and graze a button there; soon afterwards, the capsule draws towards a halt. "It is laudable," he then says, before looking towards Clark once again. "Tell me of your space tyrant," follows right afterwards, without a moment's wait to let sentiment breathe.
Clark Kent	Superman pauses for a long, murderous second. "We've met." Clark says, softly, "Ultraman and me." "He had a hard life. Not that mine was soft, there were cold days and hungry days, but I think. I really think, Thaal, love is food. Nourishment. When you aren't loved, when you don't have at least someone, it hardens you before you're ready. You become mean, and brittle, like an over baked clay pot." "I might have to kill him some day. I'm glad you made it out of there." Superman looks out of the window and thrills in the depths of space, taking in the sights and colors and sensations unique to his superior senses. He can see time, and depth, and the yawning fifth dimension rapping against the window. He can see a flow of souls flying to some alien heaven. It gives him hope. "We'll save Fate. Every failure gets us a little closer. Just need to keep at it. Get through the hungry days." Superman says, smiling a little sadly. "And hope he'll be alright at the end of it. That's what the League is for, Thaal. Not just a strike force, but a place that we can be safe until we're alright facing the world again. Without its support...who knows what we all'd be." "Man's name is Thanos. Captain Marvel seemed afraid of him, which is new for Carol. Some kind of death cultist, wipes out planets to free up resources. Can't say I agree with his math, but I'm a jock by Kryptonian standards." Superman crosses his arms. "Suppose I'll have to stop him, too."
Thaal Sinestro	"We will," Sinestro flatly corrects as the universe outside settles into something like coherent form, thanks to shedding velocity. "I have heard the name once, in passing; I know nothing more about him, save that he will, in time, be dealt with." Ripples undulate through the capsule once again, this time in two places:     The top of the console, which ever so slowly pulls itself up and away from the rest on pistons, releasing a hiss of frigid air;     And straight ahead, where a broad section of emerald light simply slides up and into the rest of the hull, revealing that they're sitting front row to watch a vast, waning red sun while away what time it has left. "The next time you encounter your howling ape of a duplicate, do tell him that I appreciated the experience. Without it, I wouldn't be ''nearly'' as comfortable as I have since become with modulating the rate of solar decay in Kryptonian cells," Sinestro matter-of-factly states-- and indeed, even though the vessel isn't shielded against power-sapping radiation... it's a slow, sustained loss that couldn't have been so finely tuned towards easing Clark into it without planning. Within the console, there are six different beers from six different breweries, culled from ratings collected from automated webscraping. "In truth, Superman... it has been /years/ since I've allowed myself the leeway of love; the last time I did, the cost was ''severe''," he quietly admits, drawing a bottle from the console and popping it with a quick flick of a glowing, tethered opener. "I have learned to find satisfaction elsewhere, wherever I may."
Clark Kent	Superman just sort of looks at that almost a threat and actually laughs this time, slapping his knee. "Man you are something else." Clark says, sounding the country boy for once. "All of this work just for a beer? I'll tell him exactly that, then, and see if he parses it." "Amazing view, though." Superman says, taking one and popping the top off despite any alteration the ring's done to Clark's powers. It's not the first time, and it's been years since he's really felt naked without his superpowers. There's always a way out. Clark listens. This is, he thinks, the first time this man's opened up about anything not work related. "I'm sorry." Superman says, and the damned thing is he means it. "That must have hurt awfully, if you feel like it's a luxury. I wasn't really talking about romantic love, to be honest. Though I suppose you might not have been either." Clark takes a pull of beer and decides to play it calm, and see if Sinestro can bare to expand on this.
Thaal Sinestro	"The beer is not your gift, Superman." Sinestro's ring isn't doing ''anything'' to Clark's powers; instead, it's carefully controlling the rate at which red solar radiation is allowed to permeate the capsule and plunder the Man of Steel's cellular makeup. "... she was my wife," he then states, one long moment of silence later. "Killed by insurgents; as I have mentioned, Korugar has a long, ''long'' history of civil strife. Receiving my ring naturally placed me - and those I care for - directly in the thick of danger. My daughter is... ... '''elsewhere''', now. Safe; happy, I can only hope." Sinking back simulated green leather, Sinestro draws one knee up until his boot's resting against the edge of the console. All the while, the blunt end of the bottle tips ever higher. "But:" he quietly allows after lowering the bottle, "loss does have a way of galvanizing-- of focusing one's energies keenly on that which ''must'' be done. I am not ''grateful'' for it... but I accept that I cannot change it; only adapt. And for all that I find your world to be ''frustrating'' in its absurdity, dangerous in its utter lack of cohesion... I cannot help but find inspiration in the League's continued ability to prevent it all from crumbling beneath its own weight. It teems with possibilities that challenge the imagination, and -- for ''now'' -- it would seem that many are not unconscionable; it is a ''fascinating'' exercise in restraint as executed by living, feeling nuclear arms." "And I wish to count myself as a member of this project in earnest," he softly concludes as his eyes set squarely on Superman's, "rather than a mere observer."
Clark Kent	"It's good beer." Superman protests, kicking back a little, perhaps because he imagined these seats to have. "Reminds me a bit of the stuff they used to brew back home. They're trying to turn beer into wine with these notes and oak barrels and everything, but on the other hand how can I say no to drinking chocolate?" Sinestro tells his sad story. Superman thinks of-someone. Several someones, really. How close it all has come over the years. "I can't say I haven't wondered what I'd do in a similar situation. The secret identity helps, but it's like lead in my gut, sometimes. It's hard, seeing people become so desperate that all they can think to do is hurt other, desperate people. It makes you want to do more." "But there's got to be a line." Or Luthor's right. He's just an invader with good PR. "That's a really roundabout way of saying that." Superman observes, smiling a little. "But thanks, I think. Glad to know we aren't totally doomed." Clark listens more. And he nods, smiling. "That's good to hear. Of course we'll have you, Thaal."
Thaal Sinestro	"You are welcome, Superman." The last of his bottle's emptied and thrown at a wall. The capsule ripples in reply, its surface simultaneously maintaining rough coherence while allowing the bottle to spiral beyond it, tipping over and over and over into the sun's gravity well. "And I thank you in turn. It is comforting, in its way, to know that your world has both guardians willing to maintain it, and a structure built on something more solid than the sand of my home... if, perhaps, only MARGINALLY. Borders '''help''', for all that they also hinder. Even if the question of how far one can -- '''SHOULD''' -- carry the mission of protection remains an open one; as you say, there ought to be a line. A limit to what is accepted... but determining where that line must fall remains the challenge; civilizations have fallen into the gap between what must be done, and what is right to do." Long, magenta fingers gently drum against the cooler built into their pod. "We are looking at Ay'amilla, the principle star of this system," he then reveals once the drumming stops. "Twenty years ago, its sun was tight and golden-- as young and vibrant as any star could be." "In ten more, it will have swelled large enough to consume its inner ring of worlds, already since chilled in its waning light." "In another ten, Superman... Ay'amilla will undergo a catastrophic failure. A meltdown." His eyes tick towards his pod-partner. "An explosion great enough to exterminate all who still cling to life in this system." His fingers curl and lift; the ring and pod shimmer as one and the space between them and the forward viewshield fills with sparkling emerald smoke billowing inevitably from the core of a waning emerald star, wrapping itself around the dying sphere until there's nothing BUT it. Nothing but suffocation. Nothing but consumption-- "This system lies outside of Oan space, by virtue of ancient compacts defining where the Guardians of the Universe may, or may not carry out its projects. Twenty-one years ago, the Senate government overseeing Ay'amilla-II, V, and XI refused to recognize the peacekeeping authority of another signing member of the compact, the Controllers, during a long-simmering internecine conflict-- a conflict deemed a threat to sentient life well beyond the system's boundaries, should either side unleash the full and terrible weight of Ay'amillan dimensional science upon one another," Sinestro intones, measured and low. "And so, to end the conflict, the Controllers deployed one of their favorite tools-- this time, as a way to unite warring factions around a common cause:" His hand lifts from the cooler, sweeping demonstratively towards the sparkling haze devouring ever more space within the pod until he and Clark are eye to eye with it. "Do you know what a Sun Eater is, Superman?"
Clark Kent	Superman finishes his beer. Space beer's pretty great. It's extra fizzy. He should get a six pack for Lois, just to see her be upset about it. He listens. It's a super-power. This is obviously a moment of intense pain for Sinestro, and trying to figure it out before it's fully explained would be a mistake. The galactic politics give Clark a little pause, but he manages to just about keep up. "Controllers don't sound great." Clark says, and pauses as some math works in his head. "A sun dying in thirty years? Great Scott, how on Earth is that happening? There has to be a way..." There is a way. The Controllers don't sound great. Sinestro can feel Clark's growing distaste with the situation, his fury over innocent lives being used as pawns between galactic powers. The disappointment that space is as barbaric as Earthbound nations. "No. I mean, the name sort of gives it away, but describe it to me anyway." Superman says, his voice tight with restraint.
Thaal Sinestro	"Imagine a weapon that lives," Sinestro intones, low and similarly tight. "Imagine a weapon that feels-- that THINKS, in rudimentary terms, and has been cultivated purely to serve its biological imperative." "Imagine a weapon that could murder a star, Superman," he softly adds, "and imagine the kind of intelligence necessary to create such a thing." '''Now''' he pops the cooler. One beer's plucked free and flicked towards Clark in a smooth motion; another's taken for Sinestro himself. He holds his bottle towards Clark for uncapping without looking over; his attention is focused on Ay'amilla through the fading hologram. "As part of its natural life cycle, it grows to the point of consuming the star it was planted in. It then travels via hyperspace, sending out spores which leech heat from lesser stars, which ultimately birth lesser versions of itself. Sometimes, a mature Sun Eater loses its cohesion as it consumes its internal energies, and spends the rest of its existence as a living region space; others find suns vital enough to nourish them, furthering the cycle. The beer was not your present, Superman; the beer is but a token of my personal appreciation for you, and the world you so tirelessly seek to protect. No:" Sinestro stands and the pod expands with him, growing ''just'' enough to accommodate him at full height. "Your present awaits out '''there'''."
Clark Kent	"And these Controllers used this thing to get favorable terms on a treaty?" Superman says, visibly horrified. He supposes it's not the animal's fault it eats starlight, but to weaponize it and turn it against a populated system. Superman can't help but think of Dr. Richards, his old friend and sometimes mentor. What would he do when exposed to such a threat? He's one of the only humans Clark knows who can relate. Sinestro offers him a strange present. "I don't understand." Clark finally admits, looking confused, "Are we going to stop the Controllers? Can we? Don't they have some kind of treaty with your bosses? And how do I pluck a living thing out of a sun? Maybe an evacuation, but to where?"
Thaal Sinestro	"Oh, yes," Sinestro says of the Controllers and the Guardians. Of course there's a treaty between ancient species of fascists; the knowing edge in his smile's hard to contain. "It would be wildly out of bounds for a member of the Green Lantern Corps to encroach upon the Controllers' right to oversee their territories as they will. Nevermind that such a conflict would be wildly out of either of our depth; no. To 'stop the Controllers' would be unthinkable; saving this system from becoming a grave monument to their cruelty, however..." Sinestro looks sidelong towards Clark. He gestures, ever so slightly, with the beer. "A little assistance with the cap, if you don't mind; I will need every remaining erg of power and drop of beer for what comes next," he remarks with the slightest hint of ashen gallows humor. "I'm going to reverse the Sun Eater's effect upon Ay'amilla," follows. It is ''not'', in the least, a joke. "It will not hold; the Ring's power is not infinite, and when it fades, nature will reassert itself. However: during the window in which Ay'amilla glows gold and true, her rays will no longer steal your strength." His eyes -- his ''head'' -- turn ever more towards Clark until he's looking his fellow alien dead-on. "My '''theory''' is that in close enough proximity, your bioelectric fields will mingle," he explains, deliberate and soft, "and you will be able to communicate with it; once you DO... it is simply a matter of coaxing it from a core sun to a safer roost. A lifeless system; an artificial star," comes with slow, sweeping hand-gestures which invite Clark to iterate whatever possibilities he likes. "'Close enough' being 'within Ay'amilla', of course."
Clark Kent	Clark twists the beer cap off. He was too horrified by the Controllers's evil to catch the cue, and is a little embarrassed. And then he's intrigued. Superman frowns, rubbing his chin, and looks out into the system. It's a bold desperate idea, and Superman sees the logic behind it. Sinestro's seeing if hard good works in the face of ruthless, pitiless law. "Alright." Superman says, eyes gleaming. "I see a star already; that one over there should be nice and harmless. And hey, if it eats me, you can tell Lois." Superman winks. "Ready when you are, buddy!"
Thaal Sinestro	"I will tell her that you were brave, and impeccably coiffed." Sinestro slugs an entire bottle of beer in record time and just lets go, allowing it to-- float. There is no gravity in the pod. For a terrible moment, Clark feels the full force of red sun radiation assault his cells, squeezing lifegiving sunlight through his pores; there's no shielding. Two more beers - two last beers - float freely in space. There is no pod.         "In brightest day, in blackest night..." There are two aliens and a dying sun.         "... No evil shall escape my sight..." Emerald light warbles gently around Sinestro's left ring finger. His eyes are closed, but flecks of that same light filter past his lids; the aura that forever clings to his body in uniform's crackling at its lowest, life-preserving ebb.         "... Let those who worship evil's might..." His eyes slit open while he cups empty space before him in both hands. His perception slides along the spectrum; his thoughts slip backwards, towards a distant world full of survivors. To yet another war in a neverending chain stretching beyond the histories of a thousand victors. To beautiful eyes incandescent with rage-- with DISGUST. For HIM-- for what the dream of a world without war made of him. He remembers what it was to wonder if his beloved could ever look at him the way she once did; And he remembers the hole that burned through his heart once he got his answer in smoke and fire.         "Behold my power: GREEN LANTERN'S LIGHT!" As his thoughts turn towards a system full of lives which may yet be spared from destroying themselves with choices of terrible necessity, he slowly caresses out and up, molding the void. Cradling Ay'amilla in vast, luminous palms-- stroking her rubescent surface while he whispers encouragement. Red light softens in the wake of his strokes, and gold creeps in where the red grows lightest. Ay'amilla pulses wildly in his gentle grasp; Ay'amilla draws in on itself, growing dense and strong and '''new'''. As the ruby haze is lifted, Clark can make out the great darkness swirling in Ay'amilla's heart, embryonic and terrible. "And now," he exhales, slow and distant, "all that remains is a job for Superman."