desert places

[ladyfirestarter]

Charlie steps through into the second-floor corridor and stands aside, holding the door wide for Olivia to follow her. The air on the other side is dry and cool, with the slight brittle chill that only comes with air conditioning.

"Welcome to Taos," Charlie says, lightly.

Comments

[ladyfirestarter]

(What she wants to ask right now is did you at least get the bastard later? -- but that isn't the subject at hand.)

"Yeah," she says instead. "I don't think we want to try and recreate a similar state of pressure here."

[flip_the_lights]

Another crooked smile. "Exactly."

Olivia glances down at some of the pebbles near her feet, sizing them up.

"Any other suggestions for how to find the switch?"

[ladyfirestarter]

She considers it.

"What about ... instead of recreating the situation, what about trying to relive it? Call up the memory of what you were thinking and how you were feeling, as vividly as you can?"

[flip_the_lights]

Like the fear she latched onto the first time she triggered the glimmer. It makes sense: maybe the key is assigning different emotions to different abilities.

Because while she was afraid in that skyscraper, it wasn't the gut-wrenching fear of glimmer. It was steel; it was determination; it was the nerves of one bullet left in her gun and a fast-approaching target.

So. You can do this. You have to do this.

Do it.

Olivia spreads her fingers, the emotion heavy and rock-solid against her stomach. Another breeze whispers across the ground.

And this time, it starts to grow.

[ladyfirestarter]

A quick glance around confirms it: the "breeze" isn't stirring anything else around them, not the brush a few yards away, not the ends of Charlie's own hair. It's localized entirely around Olivia.

You've got it. Keep going --

[flip_the_lights]

The force wavers, as if Olivia's adjusting her grip on a slippery object; it dies to nothing, returns with a shove, settles back into something approaching steadiness. The pebbles around her feet rattle.

One by one, they begin to lift off the ground. Not very far -- not more than an inch or two, as visible strain starts to etch itself along Olivia's face -- but they're entirely under her control.

[ladyfirestarter]

"Yes!"

Charlie's grinning fiercely.

[flip_the_lights]

At Charlie's exclamation, Olivia opens her eyes -- and soon she's grinning just as bright, the pebbles swirling another inch higher as if buoyed by her fierce pride.

It only lasts another five seconds before the stones clatter to the ground, but, breathless, she keeps smiling.

[ladyfirestarter]

"You got it." Charlie's beaming. "Excellent."

[flip_the_lights]

"It's a start," she manages, still grinning as she braces her hands on her knees. "Just have to refine it."

But now she knows what to do. How to find the switches, and label them, and -- eventually, she hopes -- hit them as quickly as drawing her service weapon.

[ladyfirestarter]

"So that worked? Reliving the memory of the last time you did it?"

[flip_the_lights]

She nods, taking an extra moment to finish catching her breath before she straightens.

"The emotions I experienced when I went through it," she explains. "I learned to get a better handle on the glimmer like that, but...I thought I could only access the abilities through fear."

[ladyfirestarter]

"... yeah," she says, sobering a little, "that sounds familiar. But this time it wasn't fear?"

[flip_the_lights]

"No," she says. "I wasn't...it wasn't exactly fear. I just knew the stakes were too high to fail."

[ladyfirestarter]

Charlie nods.

(She's thinking of a row of stalls in a burning stable; she's thinking of a cracked black orb.)

"Determination, maybe," she suggests.

[flip_the_lights]

"Exactly." A little softer.

Absently, Olivia rubs her forehead. There's a tension lurking at her temples; not a headache yet, but had she gone on much longer, odds are good it would've blossomed into one.

[ladyfirestarter]

Charlie notices that gesture, though, oh yes, and a little furrow of concern forms between her brows.

"Headache?"

[flip_the_lights]

"Not really," she's quick to say. Olivia drops her hands. "It took a lot of focus."

[ladyfirestarter]

"Let me know if you get one," she says. "I've got painkillers in my handbag."

The look on her face is complicated: a blend of memory and loss so old as to have had nearly all the pain leached out by now.

"My dad used to get crippling migraines if he had to use his power too much in a short time."

[flip_the_lights]

"It seems pretty common across universes."

Olivia's gone quieter at the look on Charlie's face.

"Is that something you have to deal with, too?"

[ladyfirestarter]

She shakes her head. "Never did. Funny thing is I used to envy him for it; his power hurt him sometimes, but it never got away from him."

[flip_the_lights]

She nods, more soberly.

"I remember you telling me about some of that," she murmurs.

[ladyfirestarter]

Charlie looks out across the landscape.

(This memory's a lot closer.)

"Did I ever tell you," a touch distantly, "about why I don't risk burning myself anymore?"

[flip_the_lights]

"No." Olivia moves a few steps closer, now that the blast radius of her own abilities isn't a factor. "I don't think you did."

[ladyfirestarter]

"Because -- for most of my life I was vulnerable to it. My dad told me about one time when I was a baby and I set my own hair on fire. Burned myself pretty badly. When my control got better that wasn't so much of a risk, but still ... I knew I could hurt myself if I wasn't careful. Or lucky."

She's still looking into the distance instead of at Olivia.

"And then I met someone. At Milliways."