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[onewhoisall]

Her fingertips press against her face, sliding and scraping over tired skin as she stares at too bright sun through the gap in her curtain. Rolling over her legs twist and tangle within the blankets, burrowing briefly for a moment before she shifts, irritated and hot and, onto her back. Her body was still sore, still aching, she should rest... staring at the ceiling, Cassandra remained still for another moment before moving suddenly.

She would rest later. Train now. Do... something.

Padding quietly across the floor, Cass grabbed the hem of an overly large shirt as she padded into the hall. Stretching up onto her toes as she shifted her bare arms over her head, Cass walked through the living area nose twitching slightly at the familiar sight. Dropping the shirt onto the counter, she bent down for a carton of juice before reaching up for a glass. Eyes glancing to the edge of her vision, she grabbed another glass before placing it on the counter.

"How love have you been here?" Cass murmured quietly, fingertips reaching behind her for his t-shirt before dragging it over her naked body. Raising an eyebrow, she pushed the glass across the counter. "Hn, what are you watching?"

Comments

[onewhoisall]

Her eyes move over his shoulders, down the line of muscle learning each breath of his body, each mark and imprint of who he is. His body was a book to read, a new song to learn and study even now as he simply removed his costume and exchanged them for clothes. Her breath sucked in, lips and eyes curious as she looked him over.

"Not with your lips," Cass replied simply, pressing her lips together as she finished looking him over as he pulled the t-shirt over his head. "You came to see me though... why?"

[badtotheclone]

I can feel her looking at me and it's weird. There's nothing inherently sexual about it, but there is something intimate, like I'm suddenly telling her something ably myself that I hadn't intended. Almost reminds me of Aracely and how she cam read my mind.

"Bored," I tell her with a shrug, although what I meant was 'lonely.' No, not exactly lonely, just tired of being alone. I'm going to ignore her other comment though because I don't want to start thinking she can read minds AND there's the aforementioned age problem.

"Why'd you take my shirt?"

[onewhoisall]

Her cheeks flushed a little, eyes dipping low before she turned her attention away from him. Her fingertips slid along her bare arms as she shrugged at the question. Stroking the faded and jagged edge of the old scar, Cass pressed her lips together before looking up at him.

"I don't know. I wanted... you?" Cass paused, brow furrowed before she corrected herself. "Hn, it. I wanted it. I liked it. I like... you."

[badtotheclone]

Well, that was interesting. I would have thought that the flush to her cheeks would have seemed out of place, but it didn't. The thoughtful expression was just plain cute.

"You're not so bad yourself," I tell her, which I figure is essentially saying the same thing, right? "You're... different. In a good way."

[onewhoisall]

Her fingertips pressed against his chest, nudging soft and light and teasing at his words. She parted her lips, allowing herself the gentle smile before she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. Turning her back to him, she tossed him a look over her shoulder before smiling a little warmer.

"Hn, so they say." Cass murmured before pressing her hands against the sofa and leaping over the back of it. Folding her legs beneath her, she tapped the sofa beside her indicating he should sit with her. "But good is... a matter of opinion."

[badtotheclone]

So apparently this girl was very tactile, which is going to be weird because I am not a touchy person. Weirdly enough, I don't mind her touches. Maybe because they're light and brief and don't feel all that intrusive. Sure, that's why. Also that smile didn't hurt.

I hopped over the couch and landed next to her, leaning back and just relaxing for a moment. It's a pretty comfy couch.

"Well, all I can speak for is my opinion," I say and since she hasn't annoyed me yet, I consider her different being good. "I'm Kaine, by the way."

[onewhoisall]

She keeps her fingers light, swift and short. Movement, action, touch was how she spoke and how she learned from others but she knew that not everyone was like her. She knew some flinched away from her, she knew the lightest of touches could say as much as the tightest of embraces.

She watches him even now, relaxed and leaning back against the couch. She watches the muscles in his neck, his shoulder. Her hands wanting to touch and learn but she remains where she is, close but not touching.

"Cassandra. Cass... Cain." She replies at the name. Her head turning slightly as she watches him. She holds her hand out, spreading her fingertips upwards before motioning that he do the same. "Hands like this."

[badtotheclone]

"You are so strange," I say, but there's no judgement in my voice as I hold my hand up next to hers. Her hand is small in comparison, the fingers strong but delicate, like they were equally suited to striking or playing the piano.

I wonder if the name means anything, but I doubt it. It's. Not like Kaine is a family name of anything like that for me.

[onewhoisall]

She smiled, pressing the tips of her fingertips against his before sliding her hand against his. Palm to palm before she curls her fingers beneath, fingernails making crescent moons against her palms before she presses her hand against his. A gentle fist meeting an open palm. Her lips tugged into a warm smile at his words.

"I know," Cass murmured, leaning forward as her knees pressed against his thighs. "But then who is to say what is strange and what isn't?"

[badtotheclone]

I keep feeling like there's more going on here than I realize. If this is some sort of bizarre courting ritual where she's from and I wake up tomorrow hungover and married there is going to be some explaining to do. I could think of worse people to wake up married to though.

"I climb on walls and talk to spiders, I think I'm fairly well qualified to decide," I say, curling my hand around hers. That's not to mention being grown in a lab.

[onewhoisall]

Her lips softened at the way he curls his hand over hers, capturing hers. Her lips part, a soft breath in exhale as she leaned forward examining the way he closes his hands over hers. Learning the way his hand feels against her skin.

"Hn, no. I do not think that qualifies as strange," Cass murmured, looking up at him over his hand. "I speak in movement, I think that makes me more qualified than you."

[badtotheclone]

I'm content to just sit there for a moment and keep her hand in mine if she's not going to take it away. When she talks about speaking in movement, more things start to make sense. It also makes me much, much more aware of all the places she's touching and what my body must be saying to her.

"My body makes and secretes its own webbing. I win."

[onewhoisall]

He doesn't pull his hand away, his skin warm and rough still touching her own. Her lips part gently, looking at him with a curious expression as she turns his hand over before sliding free hand over his exposed wrist. Her fingertips slide down his wrist and arm as she learns his body. The pulse strong beneath her fingertips.

"I was created to become the greatest weapon in the world, I win." Cass replied softly.

[badtotheclone]

Her touch feels good, surprisingly soft and gentle for someone that's supposed to be the world's greatest weapon. The thing is, I've seen her fight and that claim might not be too far off. I'd put odds on her against just about anyone but Wolverine.

"I was grown in a lab to be the clone of someone else, only I was a failure so I was thrown out with the trash and left for dead," I say. I'm sorry, but you can't get more screwed up than that. "Also, I died once and came back."

[onewhoisall]

He doesn't pull away, doesn't flinch when she slides the pads of her fingers against his skin. Her hand brushing across and up to his elbow before curling around his arm. She slides her hand back down to his fingertips before tugging her hand gently out of her grasp. She holds his hand leaning forward and shifting so that his hand is closer to her chest before she tugs his hand to the t-shirt and the scar on her shoulder.

Ragged edges, circular, gunshot wound. For flinching, for reacting, she got the one in her thigh for reacting to the first one. She soon learned not to react to pain.

"My father gave me this to teach me when I was six... it wasn't the only one." Cass murmured softly. "Haven't we all died and been brought back?"

[badtotheclone]

"And I'm sorry, but until you've been ritually tortured and sacrificed... no. We all haven't."

I run my finger along the scar, feeling the smoothness of it and it brings back so many memories of my own scars. You can't see them anymore, but I know they're there, metaphorical as they are each one is a memory carved into my flesh of the monster I am. Somehow, I don't see her scars quite the same way. They don't make her monstrous, just that she's been hurt.

"Then he's monstrous, not you," I say. I could match that story with one of my own. My own "father" shot me as I fled, but I am fucked up and I don't want to make that parallel between us. I know monsters and she isn't one.

"Besides. They look good on you. Suit you."

[onewhoisall]

What else could you call the bruises and broken bones that she and Shiva had caused each other? Some people would call it torture, the way that she had played with her but Cass called it a lesson, a dance. She had been willing to die, she hadn't understood but she understood it now with her own dying breath. She knew what death felt like, not just through others eyes but her own.

"He's..." Her feelings were conflicted on her father. She hated him, she hated everything he was and would always put herself between him and his target but she loved him. She loved him. He was her father, she loved him and she wanted him dead. "He was teaching me how to kill. I'm as much a monster as he is."

She had killed.

Her fingers moved quickly, darting to his face as if to hit before she turned her fingers soft tapping his cheek lightly with perfect control. "You looked."

[badtotheclone]

Like I said, I know monsters and this girl isn't one. Whatever her dad did to her though made her think she was one and that makes me angry. People who have a chance at a normal life should be given it. I never had a chance, I was created a monster, no one who wasn't really like that should have to feel that way.

She makes to hit me but I'm oddly getting used to her quirks, so much so that I don't flinch and I'm not surprised when it's a soft touch.

"Do you kill?" I ask. I know she's a good person, but I think good people can kill and still remain good people. Soldiers and cops do it. Not without a struggle, but I know they do.

"And you knew I would look."

[onewhoisall]

Her eyes dropped down away from his gaze as her eyelashes kissed her cheeks in shame. Her fingertips brushed softly against his cheek before she shook her head. Guilt, shame, fear. Fear of what she could become if she allowed it, if she allowed the anger and the guilt to be all she was. She sought redemption not vengeance. Not like the others, not like Bruce.

"No... not anymore. I don't kill," Cass murmured soft, though it was hard. Killing was as easy as breathing, not killing required thought and concentration and control. "No. People don't look at me."

Not like that. Not since... ashes. It was all ashes and dead bodies.

[badtotheclone]

"Every time I stop a mugging or something I have to force myself not to kill them," I say, not sure why I'm so comfortable sharing that with her. Maybe because she's so quiet I figure she won't blab it to anyone.

"It would make things easier. Most of them deserve it and I spent most of my life killing so easily it just... It comes natural."

And that's the problem. Not killing is hard work, further proof that I'm a monster. Who goes around constantly struggling to not kill people.

I reach down and run my fingers through her hair, brushing it out of her eyes. For someone who's as good as she is, she looks surprisingly vulnerable. It makes me wish I was better at comforting.

"They're stupid not to look."

[onewhoisall]

"As easy as breathing, easier. Muscle memory," Cass murmured, understanding the feeling. She had to be in control because she didn't want to be like her father. She wanted to be good, she wanted to be better than him. She couldn't and she wouldn't kill but she had to teach herself how not to everyday. It was hard and sometimes she did not think Bruce understood. Not really. "It's hard not to kill them, it's hard not to be who I was."

Cass looked up startled by the movement, soft and gentle, through her hair. He brushed it out of her eyes, making her look at him curiously and cautiously. "Maybe you're stupid to look, I'm dangerous."

[badtotheclone]

"Muscle memory," I say, wishing that's all I had to deal with. I have no doubt it's hard on her to have to override their instincts like that, but I'd rather have that than this rage inside of him. I don't just remember killing, I want to do it.

"Is that why you help people? To make up for what you've done" I ask, although that's as good as admitting that's why I do it.

"And you think I'm not dangerous?" I ask as I continue to play with her hair almost absently. It's soft and fine and almost feels like silk against my fingers.

[onewhoisall]

Her lips parted softly, tongue pressing against her bottom lip as she considered his question. Looking up at him, she nodded before pressing her lips together. Was it that simple? No. But it was the truth.

"Yes. I can't- I can't ever make up for what I did. But I can stop others, stop them for making the same mistakes I made." Cass murmured, voice rough as she furrowed her brow watching the way his fingers play with the ends of her hair. Gentle when they were both made of sterner, rougher things. "No, not to me."

She reached out, touching her fingertips against his jaw before sliding down his neck watching him curiously.

[badtotheclone]

"You don't think someone can make up for their past?" I ask.

I don't know if I can ever make up for what I did. Actually, I know I can. I've done too many horrible things to ever right that many wrongs. But I have to believe that I can at least make up for a little bit, otherwise what's the point?

"And I'm dangerous to everyone close to me," I say, releasing her hair and letting it fall back down.

[onewhoisall]

"No, no I can't but that doesn't mean I should stop. Nothing will ever change what I did but I can change what I do." Cassandra murmured. She never spoke, she never spoke more than she had to but when it came to who and what she was there was an elegance in words that could explain how she felt. "I can be better, I can make a difference."

Bruce had taught her that, Barbara had as well. They had shown her that she could be more than what she was created to be.

Cass turned her head, leaning forward as he dropped her hair. Her fingertips brushed down his neck before she shook her head. "I can handle danger."