maskormenacelogs | [semi-open] Silence Is Broken

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[semi-open] Silence Is Broken

WHO: Harrison Wells + You
WHERE: Heropa 10, out and about
WHEN: July 7th and beyond
WHAT: Dealing with the aftermath of losing his daughter to the mercurial Porter, and catch-all for other things
WARNINGS: Inefficient ways of dealing with distressing events, mentions of spiraling dark thoughts, will update as needed

It's been a week since he'd gotten up and found the house empty. The first few hours, the first few days after Jesse had disappeared had been nightmarish, a series of flashbacks to her kidnapping and his mounting panic, a few catastrophic thoughts cycling back on themselves until he couldn't get himself out of the spiral. He'd resorted to taking off his sound-dampening tech entirely and losing himself in the ocean of ambient noise that surrounded the house, listening to distant voices, snatches of conversation, focusing on one car driving by and straining to hear it until it finally moved outside his range.

It occurred to him, distantly, that instead of negating this power, maybe he should be training it up, the way he'd been practicing with the other two.

Now it's the beginning of the second week without her. She might still be coming back, but in the meantime, he has to get up again. Find him at Heropa 10, working in the garage lab, or out on the lawn or at the soccer field nearby, doing new and interesting things with gravity. He'll also be out and about the rest of Heropa, trying to get some writing done and finding a new routine, and spending a lot of time thinking about what makes a hero.

After two months together in Heropa, Jesse Wells has been sent home by the Porter and Harrison is finding it difficult to roll with this particular punch. Sympathy, distractions, and alcohol all welcome. PM or hit me up at

voxmyriad for a starter, or to talk about one of your own, brackets or prose.

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It's the first time he's been out of the house for a serious training session since the end of June. Sometimes the front yard is all he needs, but today he's dragged his equipment to a nearby soccer field, currently deserted and the nets taken down. He wants the space. Boundaries have been met already, and it's time to start pushing them.

He already knows he can reduce gravity to almost zero, but how much can he increase it? How far out from himself does the wave reach? Can he direct it in front and not behind? Burying himself in questions that need answering is familiar and something he can do on autopilot to some extent, and that's what he's doing: standing in the middle of a field with three homemade gravimeters several yards away, making things float.

Eobard isn't a man who gets easily restless. Despite having boundless energy stored up, he's learned to cultivate it and focus it onto important endeavors.

Yet his next session of courses don't begin until the 11th. He's already outlined his lesson plan, sent out the syllabus to all students, prepared the materials he'll need for week one. Outside his hidden side work, he doesn't have much left to do for the rest of the week. That leads him to taking a trip to Heropa toward the evening, through porter as opposed to running. He needs to save up some energy again, and that instead means a long walk to clear his head.

And eventually he comes to the soccer field, where he spots scientific equipment and a man in the middle who he looks like.

Eobard isn't going to approach right away. For now he's just watching from the side, quietly making his way to the field bleachers and taking a seat. Seems like a test of power, and he's more than interested in observing.

Without his glasses, it's easy to catch even a soft tread, and the creak of the bleachers as someone climbs into them is as clear as if he was sitting in them himself. It takes concentration to maintain one high-gravity and one low-gravity field at once, even if they're both fairly small, so he doesn't look over. There's a soccer ball drifting gently across the field, through the low-gravity field—he hasn't been able to make it to zero-grav yet, but he's getting close—and his eyes narrow as it crosses the border, enters the high-grav field, and drops like a stone, hitting the grass with an audible thunk.

It should, if he's got his numbers right, weigh more than he does, although that isn't something he can really test without dropping it onto a scale, but he lets both fields go and crosses over and picks it up, and smiles in chilly satisfaction at the sizable divot in the ground from the impact. Then he props the ball against his hip and swings around to see who's joined him, and immediately looks thunderous.

"What?" he calls without going any closer. Ugh, more like why.

The thunk of the ball draws a smile out of Eobard, small but satisfied. If there's one thing that has garnered his interest in this world, it's all the people who enter it with newfound power. Power they never dreamed of having before, and now it's all theirs. Seeing how they use that power fascinates him. Like watching a newborn learn to walk. That's the sort of look he shoots toward Harrison even as the gravity field noticeably breaks apart and disperses.

And even when he's called out in such a booming way, he's still smiling. However he won't answer, not feeling like shouting across the field. Instead he'll wave his hand in a beckoning motion.

Ugh. Why. Harrison rolls his eyes almost hard enough to do himself an injury, but starts across the field, annoyed with himself for indulging Eobard even this much. The ball is still propped on his hip when he reaches the bottom of the bleachers, that's as far as he's coming, good enough?

He doesn't repeat the question aloud, he repeats it with an elaborate shrug. He's busy. He's distracting himself. He's training. All three. Does Eobard want to help, is that why he's here? He'd love to test his powers on a speedster, maybe he shouldn't be so irritated so quickly.

He rests his hand down on his knee as Harrison finally begins to walk over, tapping his foot with restless energy. It gets difficult to stay still sometimes. He put a lot of constant thought into doing so when in that wheelchair, but is no longer bound to it. Eobard waits until Harrison gets closer up before talking.

"I see you're adapting well to your powers. Creating two adjacent fields is impressive considering the short amount of time you've been here."

There's a little incline to Harrison's head that might be a thank-you nod, or it might just be a tilt of his head. "I've had a lot of spare time recently," he says instead, a little short maybe, but it's the truth. Which might be unexpected, but he hasn't been bothering to lie as much lately.

He props the ball on the other hip, observing the little shifts and fidgets. Nervous energy. He's seen that before in Barry, and even in Jay, way back when. "Here as a spectator? Color commentary?" Or do you want to do something more interesting?

In spite of everything, it was fascinating, having these powers. He could hear for what felt like miles, he hadn't tested his range yet, and he was beginning to be able to suppress people's powers from a distance of about twenty feet now, although getting rid of them entirely was still contact-only. But he was learning.

After discovering how rarely the field near his neighborhood was used for soccer, Harrison had taken to using it to train, setting equipment out at certain points and testing himself to see how finely he could control the gravitational fields around him. He focuses on a soccer ball ten feet away and sharply increases the gravity beneath it, then reduces it to almost zero and grins in satisfaction when it bounces up into the air. There's a sound at the edge of the field, a footstep in the grass, and he lets the ball drift until it rolls out of the small area he's influencing and it drops back to the grass.

"Help you?" he calls before turning and frowning slightly. She looks familiar. Had thought he was Thawne, hadn't she? "I didn't expect to see you again," he adds as he starts toward the edge of the field.

Raina watches the ball scamper across the grass after being practically flighted for a small period of time. And then her eyes drift toward him. "We're part of the imPort community. Of course you were going to see me again. Though perhaps you were hoping you wouldn't..."

She says it teasingly, sauntering toward the small row of bleachers closest to Harrison Wells, the real Harrison Wells. Fascinating man as long as he keeps to himself as Eobard had implied. And as far as Raina knew, he hadn't caused any trouble for her colleague. "You're working on your powers..." Sinking down onto the bench, she crosses one leg over the other and smiles invitingly. "Why don't you show me? I'll show you mine in return, if you'd like..."

Somehow the last statement sounds more suggestive than a simple offer to show off powers for one another.

"I wouldn't say that." He reaches the bleachers and folds his arms, not taking a seat yet. He has no idea what she wants, but even during their brief network conversation, it had been clear she's...an opportunist of sorts. He listens, and watches the way she moves, the unspoken words. He needs to move carefully.

Which is. A little fun. If he's honest.

"Like that, huh? All right. I'll bite."

Gravitational fields are one thing, adjusting the relative gravity of objects is something else, and he's been practicing that every damn day. He can lift these bleachers by now. He drops to one knee, sets a hand on the metal, concentrates. It takes him a few seconds to find the right balance, but then he shifts his hand beneath the bench and lifts. Only about six inches, but enough to be felt by someone sitting on it.

Then he sets it all back down and sits back with a faint smile. "Your turn."

Her eyes widen in surprise as the bleachers lift from under her. She grips the bench for stability, looking at him in delight -- particularly after she's already on the ground. "That seems to be an incredibly strong power you have. One that can be trained to be nearly unstoppable." Everything obeys the rules of gravity.

Raina has to admit it's weird to look at him and not think of her colleague. His likeness to Eobard is incredible -- even if logically she knows it's the opposite way around. Eobard had stolen the identity of Harrison Wells. Harrison Wells had always been Harrison Wells.

But she did make a promise to show him hers. And so, she lifts her hand and the grass on the field responds to her command -- growing in length, shrinking, growing even longer and winding together in a braid before it undoing itself and shrinking back to its original size. "The plants themselves listen to me. But it is limited in ways yours does not seem to be. Is it a sort of telekinesis?"

Harrison watches with interest, wondering briefly if the metahumans back home have conversations like this. He's never encountered a plant-based power before and it's a fascinating display, the amount of control is impressive, although he doesn't know how long she's been here or how much she's been able to master what she can do.

"Interesting." He shifts to sit on the bleachers instead, although he keeps his distance. Power suppression isn't something to spring on someone without a little warning, and he prefers it when he can avoid revealing that particular ability. "I don't think it comes under that heading. It's a direct manipulation of gravitational fields, possibly at the quantum level, I'm still running tests." Always running tests, especially now that his daughter has disappeared and he's on his own. "I haven't discovered the mechanism yet, but it feels tangible. What about yours? How long did it take you to find that level of control?"

"It came pretty naturally to me. And that isn't because I housed that power back home. I certainly wish I did, but I can hear them. The plants. I can feel their life, calling out to me. I mean, it's hard to explain. But I reach out and connect to them, and through that connection -- they feed off of my life force and can grow, bend, return to life as I will it. But it also works the opposite way. They can die to feed me their life force." Her head turns toward him, and she's curious about his distance. After all, she would hope she seems pretty inviting and he's merely trying to be polite by keeping away.

"These powers can be beautiful, but there will always be a consequence. Some cost of using them. Even if we aren't aware of it." A tilt of her head. "How far are you willing to go to learn more about your abilities?"

"How far. Hm." Interesting question. And there are a lot of red flags in what she's saying, the way she's saying it, and he should be wary. He needs to tread carefully.

But he's been less interested in treading carefully since Jesse disappeared. Mastering his powers is the priority now. And maybe he is willing to go pretty far to learn about them.

"What did you have in mind?"

Raina shrugs, her eyes drifting toward his hand -- checking for a wedding ring which is the most obvious sign that what she suggests may be something he's not willing to delve into. "I have another ability. One that can enhance your powers for a time. You could test the strength and magnitude of what you can do. Although, it does require a bit of intimacy."

Not as foreboding of a thing as it could be when it comes to Raina. While she would love to explore the depths and darkness inside this true Harrison Wells, such a thing is best done slowly. Like carefully walking down a slope into water.

"Uh huh." He can't help the smile, or the little laugh as he leans back, bracing his hands on either side of himself against the bleachers. "It's not that I'm not flattered, but somehow I think that isn't going to go the way you're picturing."

Although then he pauses. Because if she has a contact-based power enhancement ability—even if it's intimacy-only, which seems somewhat unlikely, it's still contact-based—what would happen if it came up against his contact-based power negation ability?

"...huh. Now this is interesting. You have contact-based power enhancement. I assume that's what you're talking about. Thing is," the smile's a little trace less pleasant now, "I have contact-based power negation." He lifts a hand and flexes his fingers, turning them over, lets his hand drop again and shrugs. "I really can't predict which one would win out, or how they'd interact. I haven't had much chance to explore that one under test conditions. But I bet it wouldn't be pretty."

"It could be catastrophic," she remarks with faint amusement, crossing one leg over the other and bringing his elbow onto the bleacher behind her just so she can rest her chin on her knuckles. "Or it could very well be anticlimactic. You never know with these sorts of things. But I have to admit..."

Her eyebrows flicker suggestively. "The scientist in me is curious to find out. And perhaps it would be something to ponder and play around with in a more controlled environment." She supposes she should also run it by her fiance, even though she's sure she could get away with it as part of scientific experimentation.

[It's not that Harrison has been avoiding Eddie. He's been avoiding everyone. After Jesse disappeared, it had been easy—a little too easy—to slip back into a cycle of constant experimentation and analysis of results and fresh experimentation. His levels of control over his powers have grown exponentially, yes, but he hasn't seen many people outside of the occasional encounter at the soccer field nearby, while he's training.

But Eddie's texts are still on his mind. He'd promised to call when he had the time to meet for a drink, long since overdue now. It's interesting that Eddie hasn't pestered him about it. He must be a more patient man than Harrison had expected.

After a particularly successful training session that's left him more refreshed than exhausted, it's an impulse that has him picking up the phone and calling. He doesn't bother with a greeting when Eddie answers.]

Is that birthday drink offer still on the table?

[Eddie had almost forgotten about his invitation to Harrison for birthday drinks, but he's glad for the text when he gets it. It isn't that it doesn't matter, it's that he doesn't want to push - Harrison is a private man, Eddie knows that, and he isn't inclined to force him to get out of the house if he doesn't want to.

Of course, when Harrison calls him and asks if the offer of a birthday drink is still on the table, he's regretting leaving him space, a little. Because it dawns on him that maybe something was wrong, and that's why he hadn't gotten back to him. So he cheerfully accepts, and arranges a time for him to pick Harrison up at his place.

Eddie is there, right on time, dressed decently in a pair of well-fit black jeans, a white button-up shirt, a vest and tie that's loosened just a little; fixes his hair, splashes on a bit of aftershave even though he leaves a day's worth of stubble on his face. After he rings the bell, he leans against the wall beside the door, waiting for Harrison to answer it.

And when he does, Eddie pushes away from the wall with a bright smile.]

Hey! I'm so glad you called!

Edited 2016-07-27 02:09 (UTC)

[Unusually, the mood hadn't departed once they'd made plans, which in itself makes Harrison a little suspicious, but he goes about the rest of his day and actually reaches for something marginally different to wear. It's still black, because of course it is, but it is in fact a suit, cut to be flattering, with a white dress shirt and no tie, open at the collar. Hair noticeably more tidy. Glasses, the ordinary ones and not the noise-cancelling pair.

If pressed, he wouldn't be able to put into words why he's making an effort on his appearance, he very rarely bothers, but no one is pressing him for an answer he doesn't have. So it doesn't matter.

He's not quite waiting around, he has things to do, but he picks up the scrape of footsteps when they turn into the driveway, and it does take effort not to anticipate the bell. And the enthusiasm is a pretty welcome change from the moods he's been trailing around with him.]

Hi. Does it still count as birthday drinks after this long?

[As he steps out and closes the door securely behind him. He isn't alone in the house since Jesse had gone, but he's been deftly avoiding more than the occasional encounter with his new housemate. It's been better than the house being entirely empty.]

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[semi-open] Silence Is Broken

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