‘Cause a Halloween party’s a rad excuse To put your body through mad abuse | OPEN

[heatmetal]

Who: The Stranger Things cast
What: A Housewarming Party hosted by the gang & Settling in to their new haunted home
When: Late October - Early November
Where: Private Housing, Sunset Falls
Content Warnings: probably drugs, drinking

Moving In.

[ It's not quite the joyous occasion they were hoping it would be. The disappearance of one of their own has left a heavy air over the group, but they're determined to try to make something of the situation. And so they proceed with the move, their belongings loaded up in the back of a teleporting truck.

Neighbors are welcome to spy the new arrivals. A perfect collection of unlikely friends that look like they belong in a horror movie cast. You'll get a drink for your trouble - or something a little less legal (or more legal, if you aren't) if you offer to lend a hand. Evidentially, some among their number are not terribly well equipped to do heavy lifting. Damn sticky nerd arms. ]

HOUSEWARMING PARTY is written in slanted block print on a piece of cardboard, staked just outside the newly purchased manor seated near the edge of town. It is a utterly ridiculous piece of architecture, and the gathered teens have more space than they know what to do with.

So how better than to fill it with a house party?
There's a stunning indoor pool just begging to be cannonballed into. A classy lounge for enjoying a little existential angst and ennui. There’s enough guest bedrooms for anyone who wants to crash, though be warned: few are furnished. Some rooms are off limits, for your own sanity rather than theirs.

The music pumping through the place alternates between 80s metal and pop, with some newer tunes sprinkled in there for flavor.

There’s food, a legion of kegs and, well, that less than legal stuff is making the rounds too. ]

Comments

[eggplanting]

[It wouldn't have bothered her to be the only one in the water, but it's nice to have Cass joining her. It isn't the sort of environment they find themselves together in often, and it's always a treat to watch how Cass moves.]

I miss it, too. Even if I puked there a bunch.

[That one's on Cass for training her to the point of exhaustion.]

If we both have stable jobs, maybe we can look into making our own?

[It should feel presumptuous, to say our when Cass is talking about her own Batcave, but it doesn't occur to Steph that it wouldn't be the two of them.]

[louder_than_words]

[Cass nods enthusiastically. Spreads her limbs in the water. Floats on her back. Looks at the sky.]

A new Cave. Maybe... a Clock Tower? [Or something like it. Tim would like that. Everything is easier with someone watching. Cass hasn't had Oracle to help her since she left Gotham the first time. She makes it work. But it's all... slower.

There are so many stars. She forgets, sometimes, what they look like. There aren't many in Gotham. More in Central City, but not a lot. Cass spent so long in places with open air. Low pop-you-lay-shon. Places no one would look for her. There were always stars.

She thinks of stargazing with her father. She thinks of being alone in the open desert. She thinks of sitting on top of skyscrapers. Something fills her chest. A not-sad, not-happy feeling. She isn't sure how to name it.]

[eggplanting]

Oooh, a Clock Tower.

[There's a smile in her voice, since they're getting fancy now, moving up from caves to towers. She doesn't have the attachment to either that Cass does, but the Clock Tower was always a place of safety, whenever she was welcome.

Like Cass, she moves onto her back, letting the water support her with only a few corrections from Steph, so that she can drift towards Cass.]

Penny for your thoughts?

[Sometimes quiet is quiet, with Cass, but sometimes it's something else. It never hurts to ask.]

[louder_than_words]

I don't have any. [Aren't pennies the small ones?

The waters ripples when she shrugs.]

I see stars. [She frowns. That's not what she meant.

She tries again.]

I miss not-seeing stars. [That's close. But not right. It's not about the stars. Or the lack of stars. It's... the associating.]

I miss Gotham. [Yes. Yes that's it. She misses Gotham. She's been gone for... a time. Before the magic-thing brought her here. She misses Gotham and the people in Gotham and the things she did in Gotham and the person she was in Gotham.]

[eggplanting]

[Steph doesn't bother to explain that's not exactly what the saying means, because she knows Cass understands what she's asking. All she has to do is wait for the answer to come, giving Cass time to figure out what she wants to say.

It doesn't quite make sense, at first, missing not seeing the stars, but it does make sense when she ties it into Gotham.]

Me too. [It's a simple thing, to reach out and find Cass's hand where it floats in the water, entwining their fingers.] We'll get back there, I promise. And you can come home.

[She doesn't have to stay in Hong Kong, not if she doesn't want to.]

[louder_than_words]

[Their fingers touch. Wrap together. The water is... cool. It feels like all heat comes from Steph's skin against hers.

At Stephanie's words, Cass' grip loosens. She almost pulls away. Stops herself. She doesn't want to stop holding hands. She wants to run away.]

I... [She wants to say yes. To take Steph's hand and make a promise. But she can't. She can't.

Because Steph doesn't know. Why Cassandra left. Why she gave her Batgirl. She thinks it was because Bruce was gone. That Cass needed to leave.

She didn't. She just... couldn't stay.

Bruce asked her to give Batgirl to Steph. And Steph deserved it-- she deserves all that and more. Batgirl is trust and freedom and hope. Steph deserves that.

She can't... blame Bruce for not giving her those things. For thinking she's not-deserving. After everything, she had hoped she had proved herself. That she had done enough. But...

She didn't. Bruce didn't think she could be Batgirl and Bruce not-died and then Bruce came back and Cass was gone and he never asked her to come back. So he doesn't want her there. And that's fine. Being a Bat it's... important. And you have to the right person.

Cassandra just... isn't the right person. Not anymore. If she ever was. And that hurts. It hurts but she understands. It was... wrong. To hope. That she would be enough.

Even in her head... words get hard.]

[eggplanting]

[The loosened grip worries her for the wrong reason, at first. She thinks she might have said something wrong, made Cass thinks she blames her for leaving, or didn't sound genuine enough, or any number of things. But Cass doesn't leave, like she would if she was mad at Steph.

But she does choke on her words.

Steph stops floating, shifting her weight until her legs drop down into the water and she can stand on the bottom of the pool, grateful it's shallow enough that she can. She doesn't let go of Cass, but she wants to be looking at her, not floating beside her.]

Do you want to tell me you're thinking? Or do you want me to just be here?

[It's careful phrasing, trying to let Cass know that if she wants to try explaining what's going on, Steph will be patient until she can, but she doesn't want her to feel pressured to find words, if she doesn't want to.

They can just be here.]

[louder_than_words]

[Cass shakes her head. The words aren't there. Won't happen. But she grips Steph's hand. Tight. She wants her here. To stay.

She always... wants Steph. To stay.

She floats in the water.

There were times Steph helped her float. Fly away. But that was when Steph was... not-dead. And Cass was dead. And Cass was drowning-burning.

This is real-Steph. And she holds Cass. Her hand is an... anchor. And the water is cool. And the air is fresh. And they're both alive.

She wants to tell Steph. That when Cass dies, she sees Steph. Welcomes her. She wants to tell Steph they're both alive. But the words... float away. So she clenches her fingers.]

[eggplanting]

[It's enough of an answer for Steph.]

I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.

[If the death grip on her hand is any indication, Cass is a little concerned about the idea of her leaving, so she'll offer the extra reassurance to be safe.

She'd like to know what's wrong, so she can help and try to fix it, but it isn't worth trying to pressure Cass into explaining when she's not ready. The best she can do is close her other hand around Cass's, sandwiching her palm between her own, reinforcing the grip on her.

It's a repetition. I'm not going anywhere.]