[ Clark's been a little anxious about leaving the city very often since everything started, but given what happened the last time new arrivals had come to planetside, he'd decided to be on hand. Thankfully, nothing like that had happened, nothing so severe, but even good things require a bit of effort and care. That's why he's in the tent city, helping people cook what they like over the fires, find what they need among the supplies, and whatever else he can think of to help around the little settlement. He can't help it. It's just how he's wired.]
close encounters - we got cows!
[ After the first of the tornadoes springs up, Clark's on the ground and keeping an eye and an ear out for more, any kind of unnatural or harmful weather patterns that people could get caught in. He'll do his best to help like any 'normal' person would, but he's well past he point where he'd ever let anyone come to harm if they're in the way of something truly harmful. Especially, as one might imagine, a tornado. Even if that gives him a bit of a hitch in his breathing when he gets to close to one for reasons that have nothing to do with the danger. ]
forgetting is so long
one [ An older man walks through a corn field, slowing as he finds a small boy sitting on the tailgate of an old pickup truck. The boy looks over at him, blue eyes bright with fear and tension, dark curls wild from the run that'd brought him to that spot. His teeth grit and his arms tense as he looks at the old man. He's the first one to talk.
"I just wanted to help," he says, all defense, all shaking stubbornness.
"I know you did," the older man agrees with an easy nod, "But we talked about this. You HAVE to keep this side of yourself a secret."
The boy looks anguished, lost, caught between a rock and a hard place. The question, when he asks it, is edged with horror. "Was I just supposed to let them die?"
The old man takes that in, watching him, clearly thinking before he answer. The word that comes out is, perhaps, not what the watcher might have expected:
"Maybe."
The boy's clearly just as surprised. He looks like he wants to argue, but the older man continues.
"There's more at stake here than our lives," he starts up, swaying a little with the Kansas winds, moving as easily as the stalks of corn all around them. "Or the lives of those around us. When the world finds out what you can do, it's going to change everything. Our beliefs, our notions of what it means to be human. Everything. You saw how Pete's mom reacted. She was scared, Clark."
Clark, the boy, lets his head sink a little, his eyes dropping in dismay, in frustration and confusion. What can he do? How can-
"Why?"
"People are afraid of what they don't understand," the older man, his father tells him quietly.
There's silence between them for a moment, silence and a trembling tension as the boy takes in his words, as the man hopes that he'll be understood. But after a moment, the boy speaks again.
"But is she right?" he asks, fear shot through his words, "Did God do this to me?"
The older man looks at him, unpleasant truth clear on his features as the memory fades.]
two [ The memory starts with a view of the Arctic, of a white-covered mountain, of a pale sky. A moment later, there are small pebbles slowly rising around a tanned fist, the faint flutter of a red cape in the corner flickering in the wind. After another moment, a heartbeat, the view blasts off, flies up through the mist, through the clouds, and stares around for a moment in pure wonder, pure joy, before bursting forward to keep flying. Over water, over the plains, through the canyons and past the clouds. There's a sense of the most amazing joy before the memory fades. ]
three [ In a desert bunker, a dusty looking place, a red-haired woman is being held captive, held hostage, by a man with a knife. There's a boom, the destruction of a ceiling, and the crumbling of rocks is the only backdrop to a very brief exchange that leaves the red-haired woman smirking just a little as the man with the knife is rocketed away from her and... ooo, possibly through a wall. It's a short memory.]
four [ The memory is short, from a third person point of view, where a little five year old is running around with a puppy. The boy has a red cape tied around his neck and he's bouncing around on a sun-soaked afternoon, a woman waiting on the porch of a farm house watching with a gentle smile on her face. The little boy poses dramatically before giggling himself silly and chasing the puppy. This goes on for a while before the puppy ends up running into a small gaggle of geese, which has both puppy and boy scampering off in the other direction with a cry of dismay. The boy and the dog head for the porch but while the dog runs inside, the boy wraps around the woman with a strangled little squeak of 'Mama!' before she laughs and scoops him up to carry him into the house and cover him with kisses.]
Clark Kent | DCEU
[ An older man walks through a corn field, slowing as he finds a small boy sitting on the tailgate of an old pickup truck. The boy looks over at him, blue eyes bright with fear and tension, dark curls wild from the run that'd brought him to that spot. His teeth grit and his arms tense as he looks at the old man. He's the first one to talk.
"I just wanted to help," he says, all defense, all shaking stubbornness.
"I know you did," the older man agrees with an easy nod, "But we talked about this. You HAVE to keep this side of yourself a secret."
The boy looks anguished, lost, caught between a rock and a hard place. The question, when he asks it, is edged with horror. "Was I just supposed to let them die?"
The old man takes that in, watching him, clearly thinking before he answer. The word that comes out is, perhaps, not what the watcher might have expected:
"Maybe."
The boy's clearly just as surprised. He looks like he wants to argue, but the older man continues.
"There's more at stake here than our lives," he starts up, swaying a little with the Kansas winds, moving as easily as the stalks of corn all around them. "Or the lives of those around us. When the world finds out what you can do, it's going to change everything. Our beliefs, our notions of what it means to be human. Everything. You saw how Pete's mom reacted. She was scared, Clark."
Clark, the boy, lets his head sink a little, his eyes dropping in dismay, in frustration and confusion. What can he do? How can-
"Why?"
"People are afraid of what they don't understand," the older man, his father tells him quietly.
There's silence between them for a moment, silence and a trembling tension as the boy takes in his words, as the man hopes that he'll be understood. But after a moment, the boy speaks again.
"But is she right?" he asks, fear shot through his words, "Did God do this to me?"
The older man looks at him, unpleasant truth clear on his features as the memory fades.]
two
[ The memory starts with a view of the Arctic, of a white-covered mountain, of a pale sky. A moment later, there are small pebbles slowly rising around a tanned fist, the faint flutter of a red cape in the corner flickering in the wind. After another moment, a heartbeat, the view blasts off, flies up through the mist, through the clouds, and stares around for a moment in pure wonder, pure joy, before bursting forward to keep flying. Over water, over the plains, through the canyons and past the clouds. There's a sense of the most amazing joy before the memory fades. ]
three
[ In a desert bunker, a dusty looking place, a red-haired woman is being held captive, held hostage, by a man with a knife. There's a boom, the destruction of a ceiling, and the crumbling of rocks is the only backdrop to a very brief exchange that leaves the red-haired woman smirking just a little as the man with the knife is rocketed away from her and... ooo, possibly through a wall. It's a short memory.]
four
[ The memory is short, from a third person point of view, where a little five year old is running around with a puppy. The boy has a red cape tied around his neck and he's bouncing around on a sun-soaked afternoon, a woman waiting on the porch of a farm house watching with a gentle smile on her face. The little boy poses dramatically before giggling himself silly and chasing the puppy. This goes on for a while before the puppy ends up running into a small gaggle of geese, which has both puppy and boy scampering off in the other direction with a cry of dismay. The boy and the dog head for the porch but while the dog runs inside, the boy wraps around the woman with a strangled little squeak of 'Mama!' before she laughs and scoops him up to carry him into the house and cover him with kisses.]