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indie low activity multimuse feat. alina starkov from the grisha trilogy, diana prince from both dcau/comic mixed canon and the dceu, circe from madeline miller’s circe, pcs from the dragon age franchise  &  more !

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i’ll put this in the rules tomorrow but those blockquotes in my last reply are by creationcolor !

𝖳𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖦𝖴𝖨𝖣𝖤 *

china.  𝙿𝙾𝙿𝚄𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽:    over a billion.  𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽:    the other side of the world  &  just about as far from her problems as she can possibly get.

or, that was the plan.

months ago she’d cheerily crossed off the days on her calendar with glitter gel pen, counting down until the one she’d board that plane  &  get away from it all.  while not exactly malibu, or cancun, it makes up for the lack of sun  &  beaches in anonymity, in the fact that no one will think to look for her there.

at o’hare international, weighed down by a year stuffed into suitcases, packed for any eventuality (which, for once, actually seems like a plausible notion),  &  the stresses of grabbing last minute snacks for the long flight, finding her gate (it was so much easier to travel with the x-jet), all of the million  &  one little things kept her occupied until landing.  until she could properly second-guess the impulse that dragged her there.

it had taken hours to find her apartment; the airport was a haven but just outside the gleaming glass front doors, no one spoke english,  &  her own chinese began  &  ended with the handful of phrases from her guidebook on the plane.  wo jiao kitty.  ni ne?  not exactly useful for inquiring about which overcrowded bus she needed to take to the city.  

once she finally arrived to her new home away from home, set down her bags, kitty broke  &  called her mom in tears.  she’s traveled, hell, she’s traversed the endless void of space, literally been out of this world, but there surrounded by the bare walls of her new room, rusted bars on the window, sitting cross-legged on a bed as hard as plywood  &  breathing in the musty air, she's suddenly twelve again, shipped off to summer camp, ecstatic until the sun sets  &  she’s in her cabin, in overwhelming, unfamiliar surroundings feeling dwarfed by everything around her.  small.

worse, she’s alone.  totally alone with her grief.  living with the x-men was the greatest thing that ever happened to her... &  the worst; her parents are ill-equipped to talk her through her problems.  like what’s she going to say?  “i still wake up screaming to mystique masking herself as any one of my friends in scenarios both real  &  imagined, like her stranding me somewhere to watch me squirm like she’s done countless times to us, to scott in mexico...”  well, good news:  apparently she doesn’t need mystique for any of that, she’s got it covered.  still, it’s scary knowing she’s beyond mom  &  dad’s ability to help, separated by a distance that’s now as literal as it is metaphorical,  &  that’s lonelier than being just one soul in a billion, adrift.

at least school gives her something to focus on, the familiar pace of class  &  homework  &  quizzes  &  projects.  trying to find her way to her tour guide, however, takes her back, to the first day she transferred to bayville high, to being out of sync with the language of a school that everyone intrinsically knew.  everyone mills about with purpose, no one looks lost, except for her,  &  they all have their groups of friends.  she had her own circle from day one at high school, the rest of the x-men to show her the ropes  &  eat lunch with,  &  here again she’s just the broken cog that doesn’t quite fit in the machine.   &  it’s so stupid; starting a new school is so....so inconsequential now, but the acid gnawing through her stomach clearly didn’t get the memo,  &  only intensifies as she approaches the modern, curated campus.  china was supposed to be about running away, not worrying about new friends or missing a tour or wondering whether she’s been stood up. 

thankfully, it’s not long before her guide shows, asking after her.  unfortunately, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.  me too, bub.  still, she buries all of the uncertainties hastily beneath a polite smile, like those times as a kid when cleaning meant stuffing everything unsightly under the bed, in the closet, out of sight. 

❛❛     yep, that’s me:  kitty pryde.  or kate, whichever.  nice to meet you.     ❜❜  she adjusts her bag, her notebook  &  pen  &  morning coffee so she can offer a hand to shake.   ❛❛     are you in the computer science department too?     ❜❜ 

𝖪𝖠𝖳𝖠𝖱𝖠 *

she probably shouldn’t be antagonising the one person who could pummel her to bits in a flash of light, calling on lifetimes of prowess, but this victory is too good not to bask in.  &  so bask she does.  ❛❛     what’s the matter ?   it’s okay to be wrong sometimes, even the avatar.     ❜❜

τнε κιllεг σғ λ κιllεг *

FROM    BOOTCAMP    TO    EMBASSY,     from    battlefield    to    UN    court .

soldiers    in    identical    uniform    finalise    the    paperwork    to    transfer    the    criminal    into    her    custody .      in    a    corner    of    the    room    he    mutters    under    his    breath,    praying    for    mercy    where    he    gave    none .      the    people    are    different,    but   the    place.....    brings    a    wash    of    memory .      a    different    time,    a    different    war .      diana    turns    away    from    it,    familiarises    herself    with    the    official    charges,    the    information    he’s    promised    for    amnesty,    the    questions    they    hope    to    ask;    the    file    weighs    heavy    in    her    hands,    soaked    in    so    much    blood...

it    runs    over    each    word,    devouring .      bright    red    speckles    her    arm,    her    lariat,    comes    away    on    her    trembling    hand .      she    notices    the    silence;    everyone    in    the    compound    has    lost    their    voice,    their    ability    to    move .      then    he    slumps,    as    though    resting,    a    dark    pit    dug    through    the    marrow    of    his    skull .      so    many    lives    taken    by    him    and    his    colleagues,    and    now    one    more    to    add    to    the    tally  :     his .

and    beyond    roams    his    killer    still,    and    he    may    yet    walk    free    of    this .

that    is    enough    to    rouse    her    to    action;    she    drops    the    file    and    takes    stock    of    what   is    known .      the    killer    is    a    skilled    marksman,    but    an    old    bunker    squat    low    and    with    few    openings,    coupled    with    the    slight    tilt    of    the    entry    wound,    points    the    way .      ❛❛   i’m    going    to    find    who    did    this,   ❜❜    she    says    by    way    of    departure,    before    tearing    through    the    door,    wind - swift,    an    owl    on    the    heels    of    prey .

she    soars,    combs    the    undergrowth    below    for    a    cowardly    worm,    wriggling    on    its    sleek    belly .      he    camouflages    well,    but    her    blue - bright    gaze    catches    the    slight    mismatch    of    green,    the    shine    of    steel .      her    landing    shakes    the    earth    and    she    stretches    her    golden,    bloodied    truth,    trips    &    tangles    him    up    in    it .  

❛❛   not    so    fast .   ❜❜ 

me, like a week ago: i’ll never write comics diana again also me: ......but what if