Emily & Namor | By the Lake
Apr. 22nd, 2024 09:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsEmily spends the afternoon by the lake and makes small talk with Namor, who naturally makes all small talk big.
Emily in her travels had not much braved the lake and its surrounds. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy a good lake as much as the next person, it was that any time she went near a body of water larger than a bath she had a bad habit of falling into it.
Luckily for her Australia was a place almost Draconian in teaching its citizens to swim as early and as well as possible. Something about being surrounded by water probably made it stand large in the National psyche she supposed.
Still, water and she were somewhat old friends, if by friend you referred to someone who liked to try and drown you every time you went near them. It was with this in mind that Emily stayed slightly back from the edge of the dock, peering out at the still waters with an Intensity one usually equated with jewelry merchants or people who really liked staring at people.
“What kind of duck do you think that is? I mean, is that a blue beak? I can’t tell from this far away but it could just be a trick of the light?”
She’d spotted the man lurking in the water almost immediately but it seemed rude to interrupt whatever it was he was doing down there since he’d been here first. She figured if she was nonchalant about it maybe he’d be friendly enough to say hello.
“Did you know that ducks communicate with their siblings before they hatch?”
There was a scoff, deep and dark as the ocean.
"There is nothing as cataclysmic as birth," the figure from the water had not completely surfaced, but there was the hint of dark hair and pointed ears, "The uterus of the nurse shark has no placenta. The fetal sharks growing inside her must feed on each other to survive." There was also derision. "Nothing about birth is a miracle — it is an act of defiance."
Emily let that settle into the silence left behind it. She wasn’t one to reply quickly to much of anything unless it was absolutely needed and such things usually needed to be examined carefully from all sides. Especially when the being? Was that the term? She wasn’t sure. She figured he might just be a mutant, which meant ‘person’ was probably the overall term
“Are you a shark person?”
There was a pause.
The figure slowly turned to consider Emily, and the eyes that met her own were not completely human. "No," he added in a bored voice, "I aim to be far more dangerous of a predator. And," and this wasn't a question, but he did sound amused, "what sort of person are you."
“I don’t know,”
She felt it was always best to be honest when people asked you existential questions. Especially the big ones, like ‘who are you’, ‘what are you doing here?’ and the really important one ‘where did that dog come from?’
The answer to which was always, obviously, what dog, and I think that’s just a really hairy student, Sir.
“What kind of predator do you think would be better? I mean, most are really specialized to their environments so unless you want to be stuck in one place it’s probably better to be something else. Although, if we were only talking about water, you could be a really cool octopus, or maybe a squid.”
One arched eyebrow was raised in response, up and up and it wasn't just the eyebrow anymore. The figure emerged from the water to hang in mid air before Emily. Namor's eyes never left Emily, studying her like a butterfly pinned to a board.
"I am myself," was what the man finally offered with not one drop of doubt, "I am the best man I know, and to seek any comparison would be foolish." He casually shook the water from his hands. "You seem young. I advise you to learn that one should never define themselves through metaphor."
He was very pretty. It was possibly not the most brilliant thought she’d ever had but one didn’t often find oneself confronted by flying men rising out of lakes and so she felt she could be forgiven for any lack of profound internal dialog.
“I’m sixteen,” Emily offered after a moment of staring. “So, youngish. You’re very intimidating. Is that deliberate?”
"We were all sixteen once," Namor said without clear indication that he had ever actually been sixteen. Like the age was something unfortunate. "Who we are is what we decide, not merely what happens to us." It was kind of an answer
“That’s not really true,”
Emily looked away from the man’s intense stare, fixing her eyes slightly to the right at about temple height. It was a skill her therapist had taught her for when she felt eye contact was too uncomfortable.
“I mean, okay, sure that what we decide is always great but what happens to us has to happen before we get to decide anything about it at all. If nothing ever happened, we’d have decided to be a different person then if all the things happened to us all at once, or just a little bit of happening here and there.”
This earned her only a flat stare.
"What an unremarkable remark." His expression shifted, assessing, as he folded his arms. "A word of advice," whether she wanted it or not, "philosophy is never as useful as others might assume. Conviction is far more useful."
“You’re very judgy.”
Emily shrugged and turned her attention back to the lake, wondering if all water based mutants were as judgy.
“Is that a you thing?”
"And you're just a child," the floating man countered. Namor drifted closer to Emily then, barely moving save the frantic, circular beat of wings. "Ask better questions, or be gone from my lake."
“Teenager,” Emily replied, eying the foot wings with fascination. She’d not seen feet wings before, she wondered if it was hard to wear shoes. “I’m pretty sure if we go to war I’m old enough to be drafted, so, teenager is more accurate than child. Although I suppose I’ve not kissed a boy yet so maybe child. Does kissing make the difference, do you think? Because that seems like a very hit or miss thing to base wartime call ups on. Anyway, what would you consider a better question?”
His answer was that same, bored stare.
“That’s not very fair, you know,” Emily stated after a long stretch of silence. She didn’t mind it, honestly. She’d never been particularly upset by it and honestly, there were so many interesting things silence brought up, especially when it came to people. She’d spent the time looking at the lake, then at the man, who she hadn’t actually asked the name of yet, she should do that. Probably. “You said I needed to ask better questions but then you won’t share what you consider a better question. I mean, people are so different that any question could be considered better depending on who the person listening was. You could give me a hint? What sort of things do you find interesting? Also, hi, I’m Emily, what’s your name?”
"Namor of the House Thakorr, the First of His Name. Son of Princess Fen, Prince of the Blood, Master of the Sea and Sky and Emperor of the Deep, Ruler of the Seven Arches and the Jeweled Throne of Bensaylum." He paused if only to take a breath, but more likely for emphasis. "King of Atlantis."
Emily’s eyes widened at the list of titles and she quickly sketched out a curtsy, not an easy thing given she was wearing jeans but she did a relatively good job at it. She’d watched enough historical romance shows to be able to copy.
“Atlantis is real?”
Namor’s eyes narrowed.
"Yes," came quickly, but he said the word with entirely too much meaning behind it for only one or two syllables. A single word laced with complications. He gave a small wave, encouraging the girl to rise.
Emily straightened back up quickly, grateful he hadn’t made her hang out down there for long. Her knees while perfectly capable would probably have protested just through sheer unusualness of activity.
“Do people visit? I mean, could we visit? Would I need to breathe water or could I just wear scuba gear? Or is it just underwater domes? Oh! Oh! Is it like the Disney movie where it’s just all underground and there’s a tunnel you have to go through and a giant fish monster?”
"No," and in a complete break from the form of this conversation, Namor actually continued. "It was lost long ago."
“I’m sorry.”
Emily reached up to pat him on the foot and then stepped back. She wasn’t sure what you did for a person who’d lost their kingdom but a human touch and a condolence seemed the least she could do.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Namor didn't flinch at the touch, but he did withdraw so that her hand only barely touched him. "Do not do that again," came sternly, "This is your only warning." His statement lacked venom, but his eyes danced with a ferocity that had not been there before. He blinked, settling from flight onto the dock, and it was gone.
"Time for another lesson, then — never apologize for what you cannot control," he stated through a clenched jaw.
Not a hugger then.
Emily filed that away under ‘people who have intensely scary reactions to touch’ and determined she wouldn’t risk that again, not unless he suddenly asked for a hug anyway, which he probably wouldn’t. Anyway, he seemed upset, which she hadn’t been going for. This place seemed full of people and things she wasn’t designed to understand.
“Oh, no. I wasn’t saying sorry in an apology way. It was more a ‘You had something happen that was hurtful and there’s no possible way that I, Emily, could ever make that right, even if I had the power to and that makes me feel sad for you’ and so, you say sorry because it’s a quick word but it means all of those things to, you see?”
"I see," he said, not at all convinced. Namor had settled into a formal posture — schooled into polite parade rest, even — as to employ his strongest weapon against this teenage girl: royal indifference, an imperious 'next.'
"Our choices are never that simple, Emily." This was somehow equal parts dismissive and honest. "There is a cost to every decision that no words can change. But tell me," he said with a considerable amount of tonal whiplash, "where is your designated adult."
“Choice isn’t meant to be,” Emily noted with a shrug. “I mean, I guess whether to eat Vegemite toast one more or honey is easy. Especially if you have sensory issues because honey is sticky and so sticky fingers are gross.”
She looked around again for another moment before nodding to herself and giving him a bright smile.
“I should let you get back to whatever it was you were doing. Miss Sefton said something about training in the afternoon and I wouldn’t want to be late.”
He didn't offer her a dismissal or farewell — Namor only stared after her as she left, eyes still appraising.
Emily in her travels had not much braved the lake and its surrounds. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy a good lake as much as the next person, it was that any time she went near a body of water larger than a bath she had a bad habit of falling into it.
Luckily for her Australia was a place almost Draconian in teaching its citizens to swim as early and as well as possible. Something about being surrounded by water probably made it stand large in the National psyche she supposed.
Still, water and she were somewhat old friends, if by friend you referred to someone who liked to try and drown you every time you went near them. It was with this in mind that Emily stayed slightly back from the edge of the dock, peering out at the still waters with an Intensity one usually equated with jewelry merchants or people who really liked staring at people.
“What kind of duck do you think that is? I mean, is that a blue beak? I can’t tell from this far away but it could just be a trick of the light?”
She’d spotted the man lurking in the water almost immediately but it seemed rude to interrupt whatever it was he was doing down there since he’d been here first. She figured if she was nonchalant about it maybe he’d be friendly enough to say hello.
“Did you know that ducks communicate with their siblings before they hatch?”
There was a scoff, deep and dark as the ocean.
"There is nothing as cataclysmic as birth," the figure from the water had not completely surfaced, but there was the hint of dark hair and pointed ears, "The uterus of the nurse shark has no placenta. The fetal sharks growing inside her must feed on each other to survive." There was also derision. "Nothing about birth is a miracle — it is an act of defiance."
Emily let that settle into the silence left behind it. She wasn’t one to reply quickly to much of anything unless it was absolutely needed and such things usually needed to be examined carefully from all sides. Especially when the being? Was that the term? She wasn’t sure. She figured he might just be a mutant, which meant ‘person’ was probably the overall term
“Are you a shark person?”
There was a pause.
The figure slowly turned to consider Emily, and the eyes that met her own were not completely human. "No," he added in a bored voice, "I aim to be far more dangerous of a predator. And," and this wasn't a question, but he did sound amused, "what sort of person are you."
“I don’t know,”
She felt it was always best to be honest when people asked you existential questions. Especially the big ones, like ‘who are you’, ‘what are you doing here?’ and the really important one ‘where did that dog come from?’
The answer to which was always, obviously, what dog, and I think that’s just a really hairy student, Sir.
“What kind of predator do you think would be better? I mean, most are really specialized to their environments so unless you want to be stuck in one place it’s probably better to be something else. Although, if we were only talking about water, you could be a really cool octopus, or maybe a squid.”
One arched eyebrow was raised in response, up and up and it wasn't just the eyebrow anymore. The figure emerged from the water to hang in mid air before Emily. Namor's eyes never left Emily, studying her like a butterfly pinned to a board.
"I am myself," was what the man finally offered with not one drop of doubt, "I am the best man I know, and to seek any comparison would be foolish." He casually shook the water from his hands. "You seem young. I advise you to learn that one should never define themselves through metaphor."
He was very pretty. It was possibly not the most brilliant thought she’d ever had but one didn’t often find oneself confronted by flying men rising out of lakes and so she felt she could be forgiven for any lack of profound internal dialog.
“I’m sixteen,” Emily offered after a moment of staring. “So, youngish. You’re very intimidating. Is that deliberate?”
"We were all sixteen once," Namor said without clear indication that he had ever actually been sixteen. Like the age was something unfortunate. "Who we are is what we decide, not merely what happens to us." It was kind of an answer
“That’s not really true,”
Emily looked away from the man’s intense stare, fixing her eyes slightly to the right at about temple height. It was a skill her therapist had taught her for when she felt eye contact was too uncomfortable.
“I mean, okay, sure that what we decide is always great but what happens to us has to happen before we get to decide anything about it at all. If nothing ever happened, we’d have decided to be a different person then if all the things happened to us all at once, or just a little bit of happening here and there.”
This earned her only a flat stare.
"What an unremarkable remark." His expression shifted, assessing, as he folded his arms. "A word of advice," whether she wanted it or not, "philosophy is never as useful as others might assume. Conviction is far more useful."
“You’re very judgy.”
Emily shrugged and turned her attention back to the lake, wondering if all water based mutants were as judgy.
“Is that a you thing?”
"And you're just a child," the floating man countered. Namor drifted closer to Emily then, barely moving save the frantic, circular beat of wings. "Ask better questions, or be gone from my lake."
“Teenager,” Emily replied, eying the foot wings with fascination. She’d not seen feet wings before, she wondered if it was hard to wear shoes. “I’m pretty sure if we go to war I’m old enough to be drafted, so, teenager is more accurate than child. Although I suppose I’ve not kissed a boy yet so maybe child. Does kissing make the difference, do you think? Because that seems like a very hit or miss thing to base wartime call ups on. Anyway, what would you consider a better question?”
His answer was that same, bored stare.
“That’s not very fair, you know,” Emily stated after a long stretch of silence. She didn’t mind it, honestly. She’d never been particularly upset by it and honestly, there were so many interesting things silence brought up, especially when it came to people. She’d spent the time looking at the lake, then at the man, who she hadn’t actually asked the name of yet, she should do that. Probably. “You said I needed to ask better questions but then you won’t share what you consider a better question. I mean, people are so different that any question could be considered better depending on who the person listening was. You could give me a hint? What sort of things do you find interesting? Also, hi, I’m Emily, what’s your name?”
"Namor of the House Thakorr, the First of His Name. Son of Princess Fen, Prince of the Blood, Master of the Sea and Sky and Emperor of the Deep, Ruler of the Seven Arches and the Jeweled Throne of Bensaylum." He paused if only to take a breath, but more likely for emphasis. "King of Atlantis."
Emily’s eyes widened at the list of titles and she quickly sketched out a curtsy, not an easy thing given she was wearing jeans but she did a relatively good job at it. She’d watched enough historical romance shows to be able to copy.
“Atlantis is real?”
Namor’s eyes narrowed.
"Yes," came quickly, but he said the word with entirely too much meaning behind it for only one or two syllables. A single word laced with complications. He gave a small wave, encouraging the girl to rise.
Emily straightened back up quickly, grateful he hadn’t made her hang out down there for long. Her knees while perfectly capable would probably have protested just through sheer unusualness of activity.
“Do people visit? I mean, could we visit? Would I need to breathe water or could I just wear scuba gear? Or is it just underwater domes? Oh! Oh! Is it like the Disney movie where it’s just all underground and there’s a tunnel you have to go through and a giant fish monster?”
"No," and in a complete break from the form of this conversation, Namor actually continued. "It was lost long ago."
“I’m sorry.”
Emily reached up to pat him on the foot and then stepped back. She wasn’t sure what you did for a person who’d lost their kingdom but a human touch and a condolence seemed the least she could do.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Namor didn't flinch at the touch, but he did withdraw so that her hand only barely touched him. "Do not do that again," came sternly, "This is your only warning." His statement lacked venom, but his eyes danced with a ferocity that had not been there before. He blinked, settling from flight onto the dock, and it was gone.
"Time for another lesson, then — never apologize for what you cannot control," he stated through a clenched jaw.
Not a hugger then.
Emily filed that away under ‘people who have intensely scary reactions to touch’ and determined she wouldn’t risk that again, not unless he suddenly asked for a hug anyway, which he probably wouldn’t. Anyway, he seemed upset, which she hadn’t been going for. This place seemed full of people and things she wasn’t designed to understand.
“Oh, no. I wasn’t saying sorry in an apology way. It was more a ‘You had something happen that was hurtful and there’s no possible way that I, Emily, could ever make that right, even if I had the power to and that makes me feel sad for you’ and so, you say sorry because it’s a quick word but it means all of those things to, you see?”
"I see," he said, not at all convinced. Namor had settled into a formal posture — schooled into polite parade rest, even — as to employ his strongest weapon against this teenage girl: royal indifference, an imperious 'next.'
"Our choices are never that simple, Emily." This was somehow equal parts dismissive and honest. "There is a cost to every decision that no words can change. But tell me," he said with a considerable amount of tonal whiplash, "where is your designated adult."
“Choice isn’t meant to be,” Emily noted with a shrug. “I mean, I guess whether to eat Vegemite toast one more or honey is easy. Especially if you have sensory issues because honey is sticky and so sticky fingers are gross.”
She looked around again for another moment before nodding to herself and giving him a bright smile.
“I should let you get back to whatever it was you were doing. Miss Sefton said something about training in the afternoon and I wouldn’t want to be late.”
He didn't offer her a dismissal or farewell — Namor only stared after her as she left, eyes still appraising.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-23 02:31 pm (UTC)"There is nothing as cataclysmic as birth. The uterus of the nurse shark has no placenta. The fetal sharks growing inside her must feed on each other to survive."
Well this certainly sets the tone, doesn't it.
“You said I needed to ask better questions but then you won’t share what you consider a better question."
Correct. Welcome to Namor, Emily.
Both characters are making an effort here. Unfortunately their respective approaches aren't the most compatible, lol.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-23 02:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-28 08:54 am (UTC)