Tous Mes Mêmes Et Y'en A Marre

Over the following weeks, a fragile truce settled between them. Curran continued his awkward dance of kindness, leaving meals at Koriand'r's door, offering her the use of the house, and giving her as much space as he could. She remained distant, her interactions clipped and formal, but there was a subtle shift in her demeanor. The wild fury in her eyes had been replaced by a quiet, watchful wariness. She began to emerge from her room more often, exploring the house and the beach, always keeping Curran in her line of sight. One evening, Curran found her in the living room, staring at his bookshelf.

"Are these... all stories?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Yeah," he said, leaning against the doorway. "Some of them are about you. Your adventures with the Titans."

She reached out, her fingers hovering over a comic book featuring her likeness. "To think my entire life... my struggles, my joys... are just entertainment for you."

"Stories are more than that," he said, walking into the room. "Have you seen Silver Linings Playbook?"

"I was expecting you to say the Godfather." She said dryly.

"Gotta be unique somehow, right?" He said, shrugging. "It's not the most groundbreaking or deep thing ever, it's no Dolemite."

"Dolemite?"

"Incredible movie. Awful in all the right ways." Curran said, holding his arm as he leaned against the wall, awkward and two steps away from rambling.

"So...this playbook?"

"Yeah good movie about two people bonding over their shared mental health struggles and traumas." He said. "They don't fix each other but they...help each other function."

Koriand'r was silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on a comic book anthology. "Perhaps I should watch it."

"I'll make popcorn?"

***

The movie played on the TV screen. Curran sat on one end of the couch, Koriand'r on the other, a bowl of popcorn on her lap. The scent of melted butter filled the air, a strange, domestic comfort in the midst of their tense situation.

As the credits rolled, Koriand'r turned to him. "It was... an adequate film."

"High praise," Curran replied, his voice tremoring.

"Their connection..." she said, her voice trailing off. "It was not built on attraction, but on understanding."

"Yeah," Curran said, clearing the lump in his throat.

Koriand'r looked at him, her green eyes studying him with an intensity that made him want to look away. "This matters to you, this movie."

"It's just a movie," Curran said, looking away. "But yeah, I like it, the relationship feels...possible."

Koriand'r stared at him for a moment. He could feel her gaze, heavy and inquisitive. But she didn't push further. She just turned back to the screen, a small, genuine smile touched her lips.

***

The next morning, Curran found Koriand'r on the beach, standing at the edge of the water. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow over the sand and the sea. She wore her white shirt and jeans, which she'd rolled up to not get wet. Her hair was gently tousled by the wind.

He watched, breathless, as she stood there. The golden sunrise painted her in hues of amber and rose, making her already vibrant orange skin seem to glow from within. Even in the simple white shirt and rolled-up jeans, she was a vision of otherworldly beauty. In that moment, she was more than anything he had ever imagined. Calypso to his Odysseus, a goddess on a deserted shore.

He walked down the sandy path from his house, his bare feet sinking into the cool sand. He kept a careful distance, not wanting to intrude on her moment. She turned her head, her emerald eyes meeting his. There was no anger in them, no wariness. Just a quiet, serene acceptance of his presence.

"It is beautiful here," she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper. "It is difficult to be angry in a place like this."

"Lucky me," Curran said, his voice barely audible.

Her mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile.

"It's not all bad," he offered, a weak attempt at conversation. "If you ignore the soul-crushing ethical implications, it's a pretty nice setup."

"The ethical implications," she said, turning her gaze back to the ocean, "are not something one can simply ignore. But... I know it could be much worse. If the treatment from those who apprehended me is anything to go by."

"Most owners don't try and understand their characters. Why would they?" He admitted. "My friend's dad had a couple of hobbits he used as living garden gnomes. There are online forums for people who specialize in... breaking characters."

"Then why are you different?" she asked, the question hanging in the salty air between them. "You were raised in this world. This is your normal. Why do you care?"

"Some people care a little more, they grew up with characters as a part of their lives, the relationship is different." He said, looking at his feet. "The rest is just...luck. I got lucky." He looked back at her. "And it's not fair. It's not fair you got unlucky."

"You speak of fairness as if it is a universal constant," she said, a bitter edge to her voice. "It is not. It is a privilege."

They stood in silence for a long time, watching the waves roll in and out.

"I'm going to buy another one," Curran said, the words feeling clumsy and loud in the quiet morning.

She stiffened, her shoulders tightening. The fragile peace of the moment was shattered. "Of course you are," she said, her voice once again cold and distant. "A collector must expand his collection."

"It's not... not like that," he stammered, feeling like he'd just stepped on a landmine. "Well, it's a bit like that, but also...I... I've been thinking. You're alone here. You were part of a team. A family. Maybe... maybe it would be better if you weren't alone. If there was someone you could talk to that wasn't...your owner." The last word was heavy on his tongue.

She turned to face him fully, her green eyes searching his face. "You think buying another person to be my... companion... is a solution? You think that will make me feel less like a prisoner? It will just make this prison bigger."

"I know it's a messed up solution to a messed up problem," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I just thought... it would be something. A familiar face."

"And who is this... familiar face you intend to purchase?" she asked, her voice dripping with scorn. "Robin? So you can have the whole set? Cyborg, perhaps, to fix your appliances?"

Curran felt a flush of shame creep up his neck. "No...someone different...a different franchise."

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched, broken only by the cry of a seagull overhead. "I will not be a part of this," she said finally, her voice hard. "And I will not be a friend to your next acquisition. If you bring another prisoner into this house, know that you will only be compounding your crimes."

"I know," he said quietly. "I had to tell you. It felt... dishonest not to."

She just shook her head, and walked back towards the house, leaving him alone on the beach with the rising sun and the crashing waves.