Kara's JamJar Dressing Room Retroactive Resolutions Skips Day One Say What

[iamsupergirl]

[ Hello, Star Labs. Welcome to a new day. A new year.
Plus one bright bubbly smiling Kryptonian face. ]


Good morning everyone, Kara here.

So, Barry and I and Alex were having this conversation last night -- and you know Barry and I are the right ones here, right? About how everyone makes resolutions, and-or should, because new better year, new better you? What with it being the new year and all of us getting to be here, I think we should share our resolutions.

And then we can help each other keep to them, too! And if you don't have some, you can make retroactive resolutions right now, or we can help you find one or two.






(OOSL: Feel free to take this how you like. It's handwavily into everyone being used the being here, getting to come back and forth, know the fourth wall is not a thing. Leave lists. Leave comments. Threadjack at free will. Come have all the fun everywhere. I might not get to be around much until tonight, but have fun.)

Comments

[ Audio ]

[thishouseisbitchin]

Diagnostic functions remain in degradation, no more no less. No atrophy.

Knock, knock, knock.

Action - because no way would he be anywhere else

[detectivewest]

I'm right here son.

We're all here.

[thishouseisbitchin]

[ Still writing on that glass, but somewhere in there he appreciates that, Joe. ]

The beginning before the beginning before the end.

[detectivewest]

You remember those old jazz records I used to play for you and Iris?

[a nostalgic smile as he begins to sing. All the old standards he raised them with. Maybe that'll help reach him somehow.
Even if it doesn't, Joe won't give up trying.]

When youre awake, the things you think
Come from the dream you dream
Thought has wings, and lots of things
Are seldom what they seem

[thishouseisbitchin]

[ He hums along with Joe, so at least there's the possibility that he understands Joe, even if the reverse isn't true. ]

We are where we aren't. She's given us all bad luck.

[detectivewest]

[And there's a surge of hope hearing Barry hum along. Joe doesn't know how else to bridge that gulf between them. So he picks another song before trailing off.]

We're where we're supposed to be.
And I'll be right here when you're ready to come home Barry.

[thishouseisbitchin]

Home? No. Red but not blue. Yellow but not purple. Where are the stars?

[detectivewest]

Home, son. [Joe places his hand flat on the barrier between them.] Home is family Barry. Your family.

The stars are there. In place and safe.
So are you.

We're here Barry. We move you.

[thishouseisbitchin]

[ He moves his hand to the other side of the glass, smiling for a brief moment. Then a frown, and in utter seriousness: ]

They put brains in jars. Bodies in boxes. Deificatio. Making strings with sunshine and starlight. You have to protect the children. They put brains in jars.

[detectivewest]

[And Joe West smiles through his heartbreak, through the ache of watching a brilliant young hero, his son, babble at him in ways that he can't comprehend.

He would give anything, sell his very damned soul if he could just reach Barry again.]

Sunshine and starlight.
I know son.

It's gonna be okay. It will. You have to come home when you're ready though, okay? Come home to me. To Iris. To Cecile. To your family.

[thishouseisbitchin]

I threw you into a tv. Stolen? Did I take it?

[ Well, it's almost coherent. ]

[iamsupergirl]

Barry?

[thishouseisbitchin]

[ A bright smile just for Kara Danvers. ]

Sunshine.

[iamsupergirl]

Sunshine?

Where you are?





Actually, where are you?

[thishouseisbitchin]

Lady of the stars.

There's no frame of reference. Pictures inside boxes.

[ So, maybe somewhere there's a tv set. ]

[iamsupergirl]

Pictures inside --


I don't understand. You don't sound okay.
[ Happy, but not okay. Not himself. Not clear. ]

How do I get to where you are?

[thishouseisbitchin]

[ Perhaps it's sensing that he can't really make himself clear these days, perhaps it's something else. But suddenly, there's speed-lightning barreling towards Kara, and something grabbing her. In a whoosh, she'll find herself suddenly in Star Labs' tv room, and he'll take a seat on one of the couches. The coffee tables is just...covered in symbols he's drawn with a chalk-marker. ]

Pictures inside boxes. [ Pointing at the tv set with his marker. ]

[iamsupergirl]

There might be some widening eyes and something like a squeak at the beginning, but Kara trusts Barry. Implicitly. With her life, with the lives of others, friends and with his city, the world, multiples of them. She doesn't fight it, and she's left blinking at the new room.

Even more at the covered table, eyes lifting slowly to him pointing at a tv. Her eyebrows go up, even as she's crouching down to look at the table. "Pictures in boxes." It's quieter. A little, maybe a lot more worried, because she gets that one now -- the television, but not the word, and not the lab, itself -- but: "Barry, what is this?"

[thishouseisbitchin]

Stars shining, melding, melting. Home, but not home.

[iamsupergirl]

There isn't an answer and Kara looks, the concern evident across her features. "Barry?"

[bringstheheat]

[Mick finds him in the tv room, just about every free surface covered in symbols. They almost, almost look familiar if he squints and tilts his head just right.
But that also might just be his dyslexia.

They don't want to leave the kid alone. Mick opted to look in on him and sit with him.

If anyone understood imprisonment, if anyone understood having your head messed with, it was Mick Rory.] Hey Red.

[thishouseisbitchin]

[ He's had visitors, but none of them have stayed more than an hour or so beyond Joe, and he thinks (somewhere in that temporarily altered brain of his) that he is probably frightening them. There is not, really, a lot that he can do about it.

So he continues to draw, to chat at people in the room. And people not in the room. Eventually something will snap him out of it. Right? ]

Red. Dead. Fred? No. Don't let him turn you into a little wooden doll.

[bringstheheat]

[Mick sits down with his beer, elbows resting on his knees, drink held loosely in one hand between them.] No kid, I ain't nobody's puppet anymore.

[thishouseisbitchin]

[ He frowns, drawing another 4 box-square. Then a starburst. ]

No strings.

[bringstheheat]

[His eyes flick to what he's drawing.] No strings.
Like Lenny used to say.