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Entry tags:
Superfriends
The JLA Watchtower. Hall of Justice.
Or it would be, if it hadn't been destroyed along with the rest of their world. No, this is an uncanny facsimile courtesy of the sensoriums. The room itself is little more than an encircling window that looks out into space, Earth looming below, and an Arthurian table with twelve chairs, seven of which bearing the insignia of its reserved champion.
One of them is already here and sits like he owns this place-- well back in his chair, chin out and arms folded high across his chest.
Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito.
Superman had wanted it engraved on the table, years earlier when they operated out of a cave in Happy Harbor. Batman had scoffed, but then, he generally did anyway. Only now that his old friend isn't here to give him the 'see? I have good ideas too' face does he genuinely consider it. He had been fighting this war like it was Gotham, like it was his turf, and now he sees the error. He's looking for demons in the wrong place.
So here he sits, enjoying a reprieve from glorified tech support work and waits for his pantheon.
[ooc: Meet and greet type deal-- start your own sub-thread and/or comment to others. 'Sup to you.]
Or it would be, if it hadn't been destroyed along with the rest of their world. No, this is an uncanny facsimile courtesy of the sensoriums. The room itself is little more than an encircling window that looks out into space, Earth looming below, and an Arthurian table with twelve chairs, seven of which bearing the insignia of its reserved champion.
One of them is already here and sits like he owns this place-- well back in his chair, chin out and arms folded high across his chest.
Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito.
Superman had wanted it engraved on the table, years earlier when they operated out of a cave in Happy Harbor. Batman had scoffed, but then, he generally did anyway. Only now that his old friend isn't here to give him the 'see? I have good ideas too' face does he genuinely consider it. He had been fighting this war like it was Gotham, like it was his turf, and now he sees the error. He's looking for demons in the wrong place.
So here he sits, enjoying a reprieve from glorified tech support work and waits for his pantheon.
[ooc: Meet and greet type deal-- start your own sub-thread and/or comment to others. 'Sup to you.]
no subject
There's the Downer Girl mood again. Have to watch that. "Sorry. I haven't had enough sucrose, I guess." She takes her cup and takes a little bigger sip of fruit-punch.
"What is/was/is - sorry - your papers title?"
no subject
She leans back in her seat.
"My paper? It's the Daily Planet."