[Brooklyn Heights] Repose (Invite)

There’s something surreal about taking in the daily lives of the ordinary. The ritual of the daily routine, every step taken before, a preferred pace, the favored bench. Even beyond that, every movement betraying a deeper sense of person. A young woman on her daily run, soft hum dancing from her lips. Cautious, but confident, she cut her usual path on the far side of the promenade and away from the innate danger of the expressway below. A man, middle aged, business suit. Rigid, planner. Early meeting, coffee in hand, he had already picked which waste bin to use before half a cup had gone.

A couple in the distance, in love, spontaneous in name only. It was a fair wager the two would have at least ten photos each of themselves and each other by the time they reached this end of the walkway. Young man, boy really, pushing himself on his jog. Something immaterial weighed on his stride. Budding athlete, perhaps, stress of... oh~. A mischievous smirk curled Shiva’s cool guise. Now this was a pleasant surprise. Though two years had passed, the visage of the young al Ghul was unmistakable as the boy paused to check his time. Judging by the weight he had carried in his stride, the boy’s spirit had become shackled by something. That would not do.

First, to test his senses. How long until he noticed her? Shiva quickened her pace to a steady walk, her calm demeanor giving no hint that she had spotted the wayward al Ghul. Businessman, runner, couple, her, a man tying his shoe, back to her. Recognition. A double-take, lingering gaze, sloppy. The boy’s body reacted instinctively, ready to fight, ready to flee, ready to act. At least some of his training took root. A slight bow of the head, acknowledgement. He maintained his composure, good. How were his nerves?

Shiva locked her gaze to his, no emotion crossed her face, a specter of death on the approach. Nearing... passing... ever so closely on the opposite side of the young al Ghul from the safety rail. In an instant a wicked grin flashed across her face, one he was all too familiar with, accompanied by a sudden twist of the body, lunging forth with the arm opposite her passing, fingers curled in claw. But... if his senses were intact and his nerves not frayed, the boy would be able to tell it lacked violent intent, and that she was not striking at him. No, her aim was at the rail just beside him. She would balance upon her palm and use the momentum of her twist to spin her legs around where her thighs would come to rest upon the rail, the tail of her jade coat hanging precariously over the expressway traffic below.

”The Little Demon...”~ Even if the young al Ghul gave her something to react to, Shiva would speak. Her voice laced with ferocious curiosity, the demeanor of lioness toying with a mouse. But this was no ordinary mouse. ”Alone, in the Big Apple...”~ Her head cocked slightly to the side. ”I thought you had taken nest with an old Bat and grew a pair of wings?”~ Shiva asked playfully. To the average passerby her words would make little sense, but to the young al Ghul, they had deeper meaning. ”Fly the nest already?”~

Hmm, frayed. Disappointing. To most the young al Ghul would’ve appeared to keep his composure, but to her the tension of decision paralysis was painted brightly across his form. Shame, regret. For events within Gotham or fleeing the League? - "It has been a while, ma'am," - Polite, demure. A small smile crept across his face, hollow but with purpose, an act for those around. - ”I found wings could not let me fly and bat families are rather small. My home should have stayed in the shadows. Alas, I traded a nest for skyscrapers.” - A shrug, tone of disinterest, insincere. Trying to convince her or himself? - ”Business trip or pleasure?” -

As she took in the young al Ghul’s response, Shiva's demeanor gradually shifted from her previous sinister playfulness to a stern piercing gaze. Cold, unblinking, she studied him intently, as if staring directly into his soul. No, this would not do at all. ”Insincerity disgraces you.” Shiva replied bluntly, her tone severe, after a short but agonizing silence. Ignoring the young al Ghul’s question all together. This was not simply aimed at his response to her, but his lack of sincerity to himself.

”You are lost.” As usual, Shiva’s words had a more cryptic meaning those who were unfamiliar with her would miss. His mind was clouded, his soul adrift. Lethal faults each. ”Why?” Her eyes narrowed, a frigid tone that would send chills down the spine of the boy's father. His experience would tell him that she would only tolerate the sincere truth, as humiliating or painful as it may be, even if he had to admit he simply did not know. Though, she did not expect, or care for, exact details. Only the root of the matter.

His gaze did not shy, he remembers well. Introspection in earnest. - ”I lost myself and my path. I can meet no standards. I fall short of everything. Neither my father nor my mother nor my siblings want anything to do with me. There are too many voices in my head, pushing and pulling in too many directions. I am not a bird nor a shadow.” - There was pain in the boys’ voice, he dug deep. The truth, at least as he understood it. Stuck between the duality of his lineage, a cacophony of influences trying to set his path for him. The source of his previous decision paralysis, the din is too much for the boy to act.

A pause, digging deeper. - ”I couldn’t survive alone either and now I am here.” - Grief, shame, he cannot live with them, he cannot live with himself. Weak. But, he did not have to be. The boy had potential, be it by the grace of his lineage or something all his own, he did not have to be weak. Her gaze unwavering, another brief agonizing silence. But, she relented. Blinking, a slight nod, his answer accepted. Even if his reason was not. ”You are deafened because you have not found your voice.” Shiva spoke, her tone harsh but not dismissive.

”You will never have a clear path until you pave it yourself.” She continued. However, as she spoke, Shiva would lift her bottom from the rail, balancing effortlessly on her hands, smoothly bring her feet to rest on the rail, then stand with confidence. Her balance, perfect. Her gaze, never leaving his. She cared not for the eyes of bystanders. ”I can provide clarity. But there will be no. Going. Back.” Shiva stared down at the young al Ghul with hardened intensity, hands curled tightly into fists for emphasis. Her height upon the rail serving to underscore the sheer gravity of her last three words. Would he flee to wallow in his weakness, or would he choose strength.

During all of this, something would strike the boy as odd. Clarity, his voice, his path. This was not the language he had been used to under her tutelage. Before, she was the trainer of his mother's son, master assassin purposed to give the young demon his fangs, and nothing more. This, this was The Destroyer. This was Shiva. Destruction, responsible for creation.

Bravery, resolve, she could see it in his form as the boy moved to join her on the rail. Time would tell if it held true. He stood with the poise befitting his upbringing and a determined gaze to match. - ”My Lady, I want to find my own voice and to pave my own path through this world. I need clarity and I will pay the price required for it.” - Voice steady, determination in spite of inner turmoil. He more than most understood the potential cost he would have to pay. Whether he realized it or not, the boy had set the first stone on a path that was truly his. - ”When do we start?” -

Eager, good. Though she did not show it, she was satisfied with his response. ”Now.” Shiva responded, tone matter-of-fact, then without hesitation, and much to the surprise of bystanders, hopped backwards over the first tier of traffic below. Her hands returned to her coat pockets mid air, eyes remained fixed on his, face as calm as one who’d just stepped off a curb. With truly eerie grace, Shiva landed on the next rail below, startling a morning driver enough to cause them to swerve into the inner lane. Fortunately for them traffic was light at this time.

However, Shiva did not stay put for long. Only waiting a couple moments before taking another short step back falling onto a large southbound box truck passing on the next tier below, landing with no stagger or so much as a tap to alert the driver. Here she would say, for a ways at least, her eyes never leaving her pupil who should need no instruction to follow. A few hundred meters ahead, just before the white thirteen-story office building in the distance, was an old three-story brick building, the Brooklyn Bridge Park Conservancy. Worn, surrounded in scaffolding, under construction but abandoned for the weekend. This would service them for now.

It wouldn’t take long before her “ride” passed alongside the target building, only then would she stop watching her student. With a turn and leap, hands still in pocket, her feet carried her like a phantom ever so lightly through the crossbars of the scaffolding. Here she would finally free one hand to pull aside and duck through a tarped window. Mostly open floor, having been gutted to the cement support columns for renovation, dimly lit by dusty glasswork. Spread about the floor clusters of thin beams, crossbars, and stacks of plywood. Excess scaffolding material. Here in the center of the room, facing the window she had entered, Shiva would wait. The longer he took the more disappointed she would be, but it wouldn’t harshen the first test. It would be brutal regardless.

Fire, burning bright, determination in the boy's eyes. He would need it to survive the reforging. First leap, a secure landing upon the second rail. Balance, sound. Gaze shifted, searching for a ride of his own, sloppy. Were he chasing a fleeing target of any skill they would be long gone by the time he looked back. Second landing, unsteady, but the driver remained unaware. Possibly distracted by the woman in a jade coat standing atop a truck ahead as if she were enjoying a light stroll.

He was not far behind, she would not wait long. A light breath, steeling himself outside the window, landing silent but presence betrayed. Sloppy. Entry. Alert, prepared, quickly taking note of the surroundings but settling on her last. Sloppy. But still, the flame of determination burned bright. ”Your breath betrays what your step conceals.” Shiva spoke as the boy stood and bowed his head, her tone harsh but instructive.

”Your eyes found your target last. Threats first, arena second.” She continued, gaze cold, hands still in pocket. She needn’t elaborate on the potential consequences of his faults, he’s seen what she can do first hand. Some of it, at least. ”Before we begin in earnest I must see the state of your form. Hold. Nothing. Back.” With the ferocity of tigress ready to pounce, Shiva stared the boy down. The punishment for failing her command was severe, and he knew it. Yet, she did not draw her hands. No, he would have to earn their use.

Self reflection, acceptance, he learns and moves forward. Good, regret will only slow one down. Adapt, overcome. - ”Yes, ma’am.” - Mind calm, form balanced. The boy had matured since his time in the shadows. Stance light, ready to adapt. However... frontal strike towards her ribs. Unwise. With no hesitation Shiva steps forward into the attack, diagonally towards the outside of his lead arm. Her goal, to thread the boy’s fist through the loop of her arm then wrench, twisting her torso so that the inside of his forearm was caught against her elbow and the back of his elbow hyperextended across her upper abdomen.

If successful she would carry this momentum forth, throwing the boy over her hip and towards a low pile of assorted scaffolding bars behind her. A simple judo throw, of sorts, though without the use of ones’ hands. ‘Less he give her something to react to during this, Shiva would remain where she stood, unphased. ”You are outmatched for a frontal assault.” She would say, bluntly. ”Use your environment, make an advantage.” She finished sharply, as much a command as advice. A distraction, a weapon, both. He must adapt.