Jason Blood in the Cat-Tales Universe from Lady Dien

"… Have you ever seen lava cooling? Molten rock, comes out of a volcano, very hot. When it hits oxygen it starts to cool. The surface hardens and blackens; covers up the magma inside. This crust has no identity of its own. It’s just a side effect of the lava, a very thin and fragile shell over the internal inferno. A mask, or a shell, if you like. Formed when fire meets air," murmured Jason into the silence that had followed his pronouncement.

Two…

“When I have looked through the records and legends that deal with Arthur and Camelot, something… something that has always disturbed me… is that I can find no reference to myself. There is the occasional mention of Etrigan. But a man named Iason doesn’t appear at all, even in the ledgers of the knights of the Table, even in the driest genealogies. Why?"

One…

“Because he never existed. Because, as one of the most obscure stories relates, Merlin told the Demon to hide himself, and Etrigan did this by making himself a suit of human flesh and naming it Jason Blood. The man is not a man at all, but a person suit, a crust of clay… formed when fire met air,” Jason said bitterly.

That’s it.

"That’s it," Selina sighed, slamming her mug of hot cocoa (lukewarm by this point) down on the coffee table. "I have my limits, and that is quite enough bullshit, Jason."

He had jumped slightly when the mug hit, and was looking at her wide-eyed, his expression that unique combination of two parts surprised, one part incredulous, one part annoyed because he wasn’t being taken as seriously as he thought he should be. She recognized it from seeing it on Batman.

"I beg your pard--"

"Damn right you do. I thought you were more intelligent than this, Jason. Frankly, I’m disappointed you're giving this idea any more of your attention than it would take to kick it out the door. Don’t you get that Disembodied-Voice-Drama-Queens who encase you in mirror rooms are not to be trusted?"

He stared. "I…"

"…am being a schmuck. Plain and simple. Christ, listen to yourself-- all this stuff about reflections and so on-- Jason, if you really were what she said, really just a 'person suit'-- would you care about any of this? No. I doubt you'd have any opinion whatsoever, and I guarantee you wouldn’t be poring over musty old manuscripts looking to see if your name was mentioned. You wouldn’t even be asking, Jason. It’s the flip-side of Catch-22. So pull yourself together and stop scaring my cats."

He blinked, looked away, thoughts warring visibly on his face. "Lyle…"

"Played you like a harp, we'll admit that. Here’s a novel concept: she was lying."

Jason frowned, shaking his head decisively. "No. Lyle-- it’s a long story, but she literally can’t lie. As Lady of Avalon, she is under geas never to tell an untruth. It’s part of who she is."

Selina arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Well maybe she just carefully misled you then-- or maybe that sounds like an awfully convenient rumor to spread around if you want people to take everything you say at face value."

For a moment, his face shifted back into an expression she'd also seen on Batman before: annoyance with someone who didn’t know what they were talking about. For that matter, she'd seen it in the mirror once or twice herself. She smiled internally; that was more like the Jason she knew.

"No. It is not a rumour--" he broke off, sighed, rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "It-- no, whatever. I’m not going to get into an argument about the details of Lyle’s enchantment. Even if-- for the sake of argument only, mind you-- it was somehow possible that she could have lied about this, or misled me… why does the legend exist at all? Where did the idea come from, if it didn’t have some basis in truth?"

Selina couldn’t keep the smile internal; she barely managed to keep from an outright laugh at the surreality of the situation. Debating Jason Blood’s humanity or lack thereof with him at one a.m. and having to answer all his various arguments like a courtroom lawyer…. this, this was definitely a first.

Things seem to get weird when Jason Blood’s involved. It was going to be her mantra for the evening.

"Where do any of the weird stories that get started come from, Jason? People with nothing better to do with their time. The kind of people who work at the Gotham Post, for instance-- have you seen some of the stuff they tell about me?" she said with a smirk.

He smiled ruefully-- gone in the next second, but it was a smile. Selina permitted herself another internal cheer, then sat down gracefully on the floor, tucking her legs under her. Now they were on the same level, and she made sure she had his attention before starting to speak again.

"Let me tell you a story," she started thoughtfully. "A bit of trivia from your friendly neighborhood art thief:

"At the start of this century, scholars of the Italian Renaissance were looking at a group of paintings that seemed to be all very similar in style, close to Sandro Botticelli’s works but not quite the same. They could tell it was all the work of one painter, but who? They didn’t know. So they invented a name: "Amico di Sandro," the 'friend of Sandro,' and ascribed all these paintings to him. The paintings went into auctions and catalogs as the work of Amico di Sandro.

"Then, later, they found out who had done the paintings-- they were early works by Filippino Lippi. So much for Amico.

"See, these critics were confronted with something they didn’t quite know how to explain, so they made up someone to fulfill their expectations. But just because they came to an imperfect conclusion doesn’t change the fact that the paintings are real and the painter existed. Whether you call him Amico or Lippi, it doesn’t change what is."

She smiled at him-- not the seductive cat-smirk, not anything other than Selina Kyle smiling at a friend. "Do you follow me, Jason?"

His answering half-smile was there on cue, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes that still seemed heavy with doubts and unresolved questions. Selina sighed and wondered if it was worth it to get up and make more hot cocoa since hers was only half-gone and he hadn’t touched his.

That was the moment Nutmeg chose to insinuate herself under Jason’s right hand. He blinked and looked down at the cat, who had, in the way of cats, decided that her prior reaction to him had never happened (and if it had, no one would be so tactless as to bring it up). With a throaty purr, Nutmeg butted her skull into his hand, and it took no speaker of Mau-im-dwo to know she wanted attention.

"See," Selina said archly, "Nutmeg agrees with me. So knock it off. You're alive, and human, and just as messed up as all the rest of us poor creatures. You’re sitting here having a breakdown—sorry, but that’s what you’re doing—on my sofa wondering if your life has any validity and meaning? Guess what—that’s sort of a qualification for being a twentieth century human. Congratulations. You’re normal."

Jason gazed at her thoughtfully, then looked back down at Nutmeg, who was purring as he scratched behind her ears. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he murmured, “This amazing wisdom of yours—it comes with the leather catsuit, I presume?”

Selina grinned. “Damn right it does.”

She stood, stretching, and retrieved her cup. “I’m getting more cocoa. Want some?”

“Oh yes. Yes, thank you.”

He was flipping through the book that was their profit from the evening’s work when she returned with the refilled mugs. "Worth the twenty-five-thousand?" she asked, half in jest.

"Mmm. Indeed. I don’t imagine Lyle meant for me to actually get out with the Leabhar. The evening may prove costly to her in more ways than one." The grim tone of his voice, and slightly sadistic smile that was appearing around the corner of his mouth, were dead giveaways. Jason Blood had been on an emotional roller coaster this evening, and obviously intended to get a little of his own back in retribution.

Selina grinned naughtily herself. "Just let me get the mask and gloves back on, pick up the whip, and finish my cocoa," she said, flexing her fingers happily. She hadn’t much appreciated being locked up and exposed to psycho voices, either.

Jason was giving her a Look. She tried placing it in the catalogue of Bat-looks, but nope, this one was distinctly Jason. "Excuse me?" he finally said, after ten seconds of silently staring at her.

She smiled sweetly at him. "I said, just let me get my mask back on and drink my cocoa, then we'll be ready to go. Yours is going to get cold again, you know."

"You are not coming with me."

"No?"

"No."

"Hmm. For some reason, I thought you might say that. What is it with boys and their macho 'I-can-do-this-by-myself-and-no-I-will-not-stop-and-ask-for-directions-mentality'…" she murmured to herself as she sipped the hot chocolate.

He quirked an eyebrow and shook his head. "Catwo-- Selina. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, but Lyle is an extremely powerful witch. Somebody without experience in the supernatural would be out of their leag--"

She cleared her throat and gave him a pointed glare. "Somebody without experience in the supernatural got your ass out of the magical room of demonic mirrors not an hour gone, Jason. You, as the magic expert, were too busy gibbering."

He winced. "…touché. Alright, you… you have a point. But she caught me off guard. This time, I’m going to be dealing with her offensively; things have the potential to get very dangerous. And it’s between Lyle and me; there’s no reason you should have to be involved."

Catwoman rolled her eyes, turned, and found her gloves. As she pulled them on, she said, "'Dangerous' is in my job description; you can still be caught off guard; and I’m doing this because I want to. She pissed me off too, in case you hadn’t noticed. I don’t take kindly to being held prisoner, even in easily broken glass cages."

Jason was silent, though she could feel the stare boring into her back. She turned, smiled mercilessly, and added, "So unless you're going to try and stop me here and now, I’m coming along for the ride. Deal with it."

For one moment, it looked like he was going to argue some more, but then he shook his head and started chuckling to himself. He lifted his cup for a sip of cocoa, muttering around it, "You must drive Batman absolutely insane…"

He sobered and sighed, looking back at her. "Very well. You're a grown woman and I’m hardly going to tell you what to do. By the same token, I wash my hands of any danger or harm you might come to, by accompanying me.

"Now then… do you happen to have any candles I could use? Five of them?"

Selina arched a curious eyebrow and headed off to get five of the teacandles that were somewhere in the kitchen. When she returned, Jason was opening the sliding glass door of the balcony. She thought about mentioning that the terrace was Whiskers' domain, and outsiders trespassed at their own risk; but then, he and Whiskers seemed to have reached an agreement on their own, so she didn’t interfere.

"The wind is from the north. Good," he murmured, sticking his head back in and taking the candles from her. She followed him out onto the terrace and waited for the inevitable annoyed gaze. When it happened, Jason staring at her as if to say, 'And what do you think you're doing?', she pulled out the-naughty-smile-as-a-weapon again.

"Mind if I watch?" she purred, reminding him with a look that it was her apartment. Blood sighed and shook his head minutely, obviously realizing the futility of arguing with her. Selina’s smile grew a pleased fraction. "So what are you doing?"

"Locating Lyle. It shouldn’t be that difficult; I doubt she’s expecting a counter-attack from me so soon, and the north wind aids my type of magic, not hers," Jason explained as he arranged the candles in a small circle. Then, the occultist shrugged out of his suit jacket and took off his shoes, setting them to one side as he sat down in a lotus position before the candles.

Selina watched with interest as he lit the candles one by one with a book of matches he’d taken from his pocket. The flames flickered and wavered slightly in the slight breeze that did indeed come from the north, though Selina thought privately that "wind" was a bit strong of a word for it.

" 'Your' type of magic? That would be, what… male magic as opposed to female magic, or something?" she asked curiously, thinking about what she did know or had heard of mysticism.

He paused, staring at the flames in sober silence for a moment. "No. No… the north wind favours black magic. As opposed to white."

He took her moment of silence as opportunity to begin.

"Thou who art called Boreas, the Devourer
"Thou who dwell in the North
"Thou who bringest death and retribution, winter and the grave--
"Attend this my scrye.

"I summon Fire to serve me
"I summon Fire in the number of five
"I who have taken Fire unto myself
"I who have known the fires of the Pit
"I who am magus--
"I summon Fire to show me the way."

The flames suddenly leapt up, from five teacandles with little dots of flickering light to a three-foot-high fire on her terrace. Selina blinked in the sudden wave of heat and light, hearing the hungry roar; watched as the wax of the candles melted to lavender blotches on the concrete of the terrace.

"I seek Lyle, Witch-Queen of Avalon, who is away from her place of power and unprotected by Water and Earth. Show me the Lady of the Island!"

The flames crackled, leapt and danced, casting a reddish glow over the terrace. Selina gave a moment’s pause to wonder if anyone would see the veritable bonfire and think to call the fire department. She could just see herself explaining to someone at the door, "No, not at all, just a little late-night barbecue that we put too much lighter fluid on…"

Jason was closer to the flames than she thought was safe or comfortable, but didn’t seem to have a problem with it as he stared into the depths of the raging conflagration, now burning without any visible fuel. The heat grew more intense, making a furnace of her normally cool and pleasant terrace, and Catwoman growled under her breath as she gripped the railing with one clawed hand. Next time Jason Blood decided to "borrow some candles" they were damn well going to discuss it a bit more beforehand.

The wind had definitely picked up. It was whipping her hair back behind her and stirring the flames up more than they already were. If this didn’t--

"Cease! I unsummon the flames of Manäche
"Having seen what I wish.
"Boreas, be released unto the firmament
"I end my scrye."

And suddenly things were back to normal. The wind was gone, back to the light pleasant breeze it had been before. The flames were out. Catwoman exhaled and realised she was holding on the railing far more tightly than was necessary. She gritted her teeth in annoyance and let go, glaring at Blood.

"You just had to show off, didn’t you," she growled, tapping her claws on the rail.

Jason opened his eyes at her muttered comment, glancing over at her with a faint smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. "All in a day’s work," he said lightly, though he seemed tired and the humor didn’t reach his eyes.

"So is cleaning up the soot and wax and scorch marks on my terrace. Should I get you a rag?" she retorted as she looked in through the sliding glass door to see if he’d gone and freaked out the cats again.

"I’m sorry. What soot?" he said with entirely too much smugness as he pulled his jacket back on. She turned with a scathing remark ready… to see that the area of the terrace where he’d held his little fireball party was completely unmarred. There was no sign of either the candles or the flame that had been there moments before.

"We go west, to Rochester’s penthouse," Jason said simply as he brushed past her on his way back inside. Selina rolled her eyes and flexed the claws once, indulging in a pleasant mental image of that nice jacket getting shredded.

"So, she’s staying with the man we already know is helping her do her dirty work. And we couldn’t have come to that brilliant and original conclusion without lighting a small brush fire on my patio?" she asked after him as she leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms. Nutmeg and Whiskers were nowhere to be seen. Not that she blamed them, after the fireworks going on on the terrace. Poor Whiskers.

Jason turned with an expression that on another man she would have termed a smirk-- no, it was a smirk, whether it was on him or not. "No. Are you coming, or should I go on without you?"

She shot him a look, then a naughty grin. "Bet I make it to street level first." And with a quick uncoiling of the whip, she turned back to the balcony and started to take her preferred route down.

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