prodigaljaybird: (Comics - Burn.)
A day later, Jason's learned enough of his new power to keep control, at least to the point that he won't hurt anyone by accident. Gone is the fear of yesterday, and in its place is a delirious kind of purpose, the power in Jason so raw, so unchecked, and as of yet unwielded against an appropriately worthy foe.

He could bring down buildings if he wanted to, and not by blowing himself through him. He could pull down trees, scream holes in the fucking mountainside. He can shout so loud he can lift himself from the ground and keep going, but it's not to the neighborhoods Jason goes, or to mountain peaks, or to freedom on the winds. He plunges himself into the deeper parts of the forest, climbing towards the water tower and to the monstrosity that lies within its shadow.

The enormous golden horn, shining dimly in the dappled sun, beautiful and terrible, dented by steel and arrows and desperate hands. Katniss' Cornucopia. Jason hates it almost as much as she does.

He stares at it, reaching for old staples, for the anger inside him that's always raging so near to the surface. Rarely has he had the opportunity to let it out, and even more rarely on so worthy a goal. So intent is he on the horn, on its golden bow and hateful arch, that Jason hardly notices when he's no longer alone.
prodigaljaybird: (Comics - Break.)
Jason hasn't slept a night through since he was fourteen years old. It's nothing new, half his nightmares so familiar they happen almost by rote, though there's a few that still manage to terrify. He goes to bed in tired expectation, feels his body sleep and his brain light up. The fighter in him smiles and welcomes the chance to meet each falling crowbar with something better than child-sized fists, meet them with guns and blades and bombs, and in his dream Jason doesn't start screaming until the shadows grow long and bat-shaped.

He falls asleep in silence.

Jason wakes to his own gasping breaths in bed and the earth shifting beneath him.

"What the f - " he starts, but the world only shakes harder, something in the movement focused, personal. It's shaking his bed harder than anything, and Jason reaches out against the attack, seizes the gauntlet beneath his pillow and wishes it was a gun.

"You'll fucking wish - " he bellows, but as soon as the words leave him he feels himself forced violently back, propelled from his sheets and right into the air. His heart races - his bed's so close to the wall, he's gonna hit and there's no time to twist, nothing to grab, nothing to stop him and it's too fucking late to -

Jason's body flies through the bamboo with a mighty crack and is caught by the ground, coming to rest a dozen yards away with great rivets of earth in his wake.

There's a million things he should be doing. Lying there stunned feels like the best start.

[ooc: open to all in game, posted privately for preplay~ Jason just blew out the side of his hut, still in the boxers and tank top he went to bed in. His power is the sonic scream.]

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Jason Todd

September 2014

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