Clark Luthor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
a_different_future) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
zanzivata_logs2017-12-06 09:30 am
a_different_future) wrote in zanzivata_logs2017-12-06 09:30 am
Every time I tried /To take the high road... [open!]
WHO: Clark Luthor and Bucky, Clark Luthor and his new pet, Clark Luthor and you!
WHAT: a bit of exploring, a bit of fun out, a bit of old habits, a bit of cute pet shenanigans
WHERE: around the city, the ghost ship, wherever Bucky lives, a back alley, at his home and the grocery store
WHEN: beginning to middle of December
WARNINGS: some minor violence, mentions of sexual assault
[ exploring | open ]
[ Clark's always been a master of his domain. While this isn't his city, while there are many and varied elements out of his control, while he has no delusions that he will be master of anything here, he still needs to know his home, in and out, and that means spending his time in the various sections, poor and rich, the magical and the less, walking among the people and discovering the local idiosyncrasies for himself. He pays special attention to the periodicals he finds, reads each one (usually at a reasonably nice cafe in whatever section of the city he finds it in while enjoying a bite to eat), and he's making a point to check in on some of the stories to see just how accurate these rags happen to be. So far, it's no Daily Planet but... not too bad. ]
[ ghost ship | open ]
[ When the ship comes into harbor, Clark's first inclination is to ignore it. He doesn't see what could be of value on such a vessel and the whole idea of going in there strikes him as a very poor idea indeed.
...but when the Seer asks, he goes. He takes some comfort in the fact that she is smiling as she sends him off.
That doesn't mean he has to like it, though, so he lingers near on the deck for a time before venturing down. ]
[ brunch with a friend | closed to bucky ]
[ He'd promised Bucky brunch, and brunch he certainly delivers; it's enough of a spread that he almost looks ridiculous, floating down outside of the other man's door with a very large container held in his hands, that in turn holding a number of covered plates and a bottle of champagne and orange juice. Just because neither of them really need to drink or can be effected by it doesn't mean mimosas are to be skipped. It's brunch, after all. ]
[ old habits die hard | open | warnings for mentions of extreme violence and references to sexual assault]
[ Before he'd come here, after he'd been transported back to his world by Kent, he'd spent a decent amount of time in the Fortress, learning and listening to Jor-El. He'd pointed out some of the mistakes he'd made, some of the ways he'd been foolish and misguided, how he'd let his human-raised emotions cloud the purity of his Kryptonian logic. And yet, Jor-El was still nothing more than a music box in many ways, an AI left to him by a dead father only nominally more interested in his own ambitions than the one who'd actually raised him, and by that fact, had no idea what it was to live the way he did.
Live with the world in his ears, with suffering and horror and awfulness the constant soundtrack to his life. To so many of them, so many, choosing to follow their basest desires. It doesn't even feel like a decision, how he leaves the cafe he'd been enjoying his lunch at. It feels like a reflex, like the most natural thing.
It feels normal again, to have blood on his hands, a beating heart clenched between his fingers. The woman skitters away, now that the bastard's no longer holding onto her, and starts shoving her clothing back into place. She says 'thank you' like a gasp, steps back and back again, and she's more terrified of Clark than the man whose heart he's holding. Squeezing.
That's fine.
She runs. That's fine too.
He pulls his hand out of the rapist's chest, enjoys the slick pop of it, and drops the liquified remains of the organ from between his fingers, shaking to make sure he removes all of it. They both drop at roughly the same rate, one next to the other, and he's glad that he'd had his sleeves rolled up for lunch because he really does like this shirt. ]
[ learning about his new friend | middle of dec | open ]
[ The middle of December gives him the finest gift: the green egg he's been incubating near the fire finally cracks, and the delightful little creature who stumbles her way out imprints on him almost as hard as he on her.
He'll dote on her for a week, much to the Seer's amusement; she sends him only on a couple of missions, knowing how much it bothers him to be away. Eventually, she sends him to the shops with Kirjev (as he has decided to call her) so that he can figure out exactly what sort of food she likes. She gets some attention (and much like her master, preens to it as he strokes her spine and frills) but largely, the two of them go about their business letting her sniff at various things and piling a few items in the cart to bring home. ]
WHAT: a bit of exploring, a bit of fun out, a bit of old habits, a bit of cute pet shenanigans
WHERE: around the city, the ghost ship, wherever Bucky lives, a back alley, at his home and the grocery store
WHEN: beginning to middle of December
WARNINGS: some minor violence, mentions of sexual assault
[ exploring | open ]
[ Clark's always been a master of his domain. While this isn't his city, while there are many and varied elements out of his control, while he has no delusions that he will be master of anything here, he still needs to know his home, in and out, and that means spending his time in the various sections, poor and rich, the magical and the less, walking among the people and discovering the local idiosyncrasies for himself. He pays special attention to the periodicals he finds, reads each one (usually at a reasonably nice cafe in whatever section of the city he finds it in while enjoying a bite to eat), and he's making a point to check in on some of the stories to see just how accurate these rags happen to be. So far, it's no Daily Planet but... not too bad. ]
[ ghost ship | open ]
[ When the ship comes into harbor, Clark's first inclination is to ignore it. He doesn't see what could be of value on such a vessel and the whole idea of going in there strikes him as a very poor idea indeed.
...but when the Seer asks, he goes. He takes some comfort in the fact that she is smiling as she sends him off.
That doesn't mean he has to like it, though, so he lingers near on the deck for a time before venturing down. ]
[ brunch with a friend | closed to bucky ]
[ He'd promised Bucky brunch, and brunch he certainly delivers; it's enough of a spread that he almost looks ridiculous, floating down outside of the other man's door with a very large container held in his hands, that in turn holding a number of covered plates and a bottle of champagne and orange juice. Just because neither of them really need to drink or can be effected by it doesn't mean mimosas are to be skipped. It's brunch, after all. ]
[ old habits die hard | open | warnings for mentions of extreme violence and references to sexual assault]
[ Before he'd come here, after he'd been transported back to his world by Kent, he'd spent a decent amount of time in the Fortress, learning and listening to Jor-El. He'd pointed out some of the mistakes he'd made, some of the ways he'd been foolish and misguided, how he'd let his human-raised emotions cloud the purity of his Kryptonian logic. And yet, Jor-El was still nothing more than a music box in many ways, an AI left to him by a dead father only nominally more interested in his own ambitions than the one who'd actually raised him, and by that fact, had no idea what it was to live the way he did.
Live with the world in his ears, with suffering and horror and awfulness the constant soundtrack to his life. To so many of them, so many, choosing to follow their basest desires. It doesn't even feel like a decision, how he leaves the cafe he'd been enjoying his lunch at. It feels like a reflex, like the most natural thing.
It feels normal again, to have blood on his hands, a beating heart clenched between his fingers. The woman skitters away, now that the bastard's no longer holding onto her, and starts shoving her clothing back into place. She says 'thank you' like a gasp, steps back and back again, and she's more terrified of Clark than the man whose heart he's holding. Squeezing.
That's fine.
She runs. That's fine too.
He pulls his hand out of the rapist's chest, enjoys the slick pop of it, and drops the liquified remains of the organ from between his fingers, shaking to make sure he removes all of it. They both drop at roughly the same rate, one next to the other, and he's glad that he'd had his sleeves rolled up for lunch because he really does like this shirt. ]
[ learning about his new friend | middle of dec | open ]
[ The middle of December gives him the finest gift: the green egg he's been incubating near the fire finally cracks, and the delightful little creature who stumbles her way out imprints on him almost as hard as he on her.
He'll dote on her for a week, much to the Seer's amusement; she sends him only on a couple of missions, knowing how much it bothers him to be away. Eventually, she sends him to the shops with Kirjev (as he has decided to call her) so that he can figure out exactly what sort of food she likes. She gets some attention (and much like her master, preens to it as he strokes her spine and frills) but largely, the two of them go about their business letting her sniff at various things and piling a few items in the cart to bring home. ]