Jan 18, 2019 9:54 PM
Glam is unexpectedly saddled with a traumatized person made of fire
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The ball of flames goes still when it's grabbed, tries to withdraw smaller, to cool, as if to stop the knight carrying it being burned.

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That's heartbreaking.

The knight gallops for a few minutes through streets and back alleys until it stops at a nondescript one. It looks around a couple of times then dismounts, and the horse promptly disappears. A length of rope falls from the roof and the knight holds onto it, and starts getting pulled up.

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The knight's rescuee is, somehow, trembling against the knight, continuing to try and keep as still as possible. (Be good, be good, be good.)

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They reach the roof where a number of computers and screens showing various views of the ongoing battle (the Protectorate heroes seem to have arrived) surround Glam. The knight deposits the ball of fire on the ground then promptly vanishes.

Glam looks at it and conjures a copy of themself who floats over to the ball. "Shh, shh, you're fine, no one's gonna hurt you," they say, trying to be soothing. They don't get close enough that they could be interpreted as invading their personal space. "You're safe here, you won't hurt anyone -" They conjure a lighter and light it up and put one hand on the fire. "See? Fireproof. It's fine, it's alright."

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It's still shaking, the flames curled in on themselves. It doesn't exactly relax when Glam demonstrates their fireproofness, but it manages to seem slightly less tense. "I-I-"

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"I'm not gonna hurt you," they repeat, and sit cross-legged in the air. "I'm Glam. Do you have a name?"

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"I- I think someone called me- Nova?"

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"And do you want to keep that name or would you rather have a different one?"

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The flames shift in an impression of a shrug. "I- whatever you want s'fine-" There's a pause, like the flames are searching for an appropriate title for Glam.

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...

(Maybe the knights are roughing Malestrom up a bit more than strictly necessary right now.)

"You can just call me Glam," they say. "Do you eat? Sleep?"

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"...need fuel, sometimes." Flinch, hurried: "Can-can do without?"

Pauses. "What's sleep?"

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"- sleep is a thing some people do where they spend several hours unconscious while their bodies and brains do various repair-type things. Most people need that in order to stay alive but some people with powers don't.

"Do you need any particular type of fuel?"

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"O-oh. I- don't think I need to?"

"I- wood? But- f'it burns..."

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"Okay, stuff that burns, I can get that for you. Are you - for lack of a better word - hungry right now, or can it wait 'til we arrest that - person?"

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"C'n wait."

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"Okay. Is there anything else I can do? A cushion, a TV, a book..."

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There's a moment of still, confused, silence. "M'fine, thank you, Glam." And the flames curl a little smaller and just rest.

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"Okay. If you need anything just tell me." That copy disappears and the original resumes paying their full attention to the fight.

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The ball of flames stays where they left it, although does seem to be paying attention to them and what they're doing.

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They seem to be watching the fight from various angles - the various knights, one screen for every two to four of them, and cameras in various corners looking at the fight as a whole, and one camera dedicated to a copy of themself that's hanging by a window and providing commentary. They're not doing anything other than watching, apparently, but every now and then a screen switches to a different view after no apparent action.

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Nova moves a little closer, trying for as much stealth as a ball of fire can. He's fairly sure that Glam is sort-of like Maelstrom now - one of the other people with powers. But not broken like his.

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Glam does not evince having noticed him. The fight seems to be going pretty poorly for Maelstrom - most of his gang has been captured and he's badly outnumbered. It's just a matter of whether he'll want to fight until the end or give up before that. Regardless, his image is pretty much ruined.

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Maelstrom has pride. But he also has a sense of self-preservation. And he knows when the odds are stacked against him. He gives up (for now).

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There's almost palatable confusion from Nova at Maelstrom's surrender.

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Glam visibly relaxes when that happens. The knights vanish one by one and the Glam-copy that's pretending to be the real one floats in from the main door and makes a witty remark.

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